Suit-ably Tailored (Patreon)

Here's the next instalment of the Suit-ably series! This one focuses on Dean as he has an office mishap and heads to the tailors! 

Dean was the eye candy of the whole office. He was just too jaw-dropping not to be. He had the build of a rugby player, but he was tall with it and had the thick, muscled thighs and big bubble butt that made everyone turn their heads as he walked past.

For the last five years, Dean had worked in a legal office in the middle of Manhattan. He’d made a name for himself for being fantastic with the clients, but a little too arrogant with his colleagues.

One fateful Wednesday, Dean arrived at the office with a Starbucks in hand, wearing a beautifully tailored navy-blue suit, a white shirt, bright blue and white striped silk tie and custom made leather dress shoes. His dark hair was styled to perfection and as he winked at the receptionist on his way to the elevator, she practically melted into her seat.

Dean spent the morning making various phone calls, but one in particular was to his tailor. Mr Goldman was a sweet, Jewish guy in his early fifties and had been a tailor his entire life. He ran his own shop that was just around the corner from Dean’s office and he had been tailoring his clothes ever since Dean had started raking in the big bucks.

Unfortunately, Dean was a little too accident prone for his own good. He was always catching his jacket on a door handle or tripping up the stairs, but his good fortune always seemed to make such incidents happen when he was alone.

Mr Goldman had grown accustomed to Dean’s clumsy nature and was more than used to doing repairs on his many torn suits. However, recently, Dean had been more accident prone than normal and Mr Goldman was growing more than a little irritated with Dean’s inability to look after the beautiful suits that he made for him.

Dean called Mr Goldman and asked him if he could repair a pair of trousers for him. He’d caught them on a railing and torn the side seam on one of the legs. Mr Goldman cursed in his head before agreeing to mend them and promptly hanging up.

The day passed fairly speedily with a rush of meetings and at 4pm, Dean decided to head downstairs to get himself a coffee from the small coffee shop just across the street from his building. As he walked across the street, weaving in and out of cabs, a couple of girls wolf whistled and he turned and gave them a smile.

With coffee in hand, Dean headed back to the office, but whilst he stood in the atrium waiting for the elevator, he noticed that the laces on one of his pristine dress shoes was undone and flapping around. After placing his coffee on one of the tables next to the elevators, he bent over to retie his laces. As he bent over, the navy-blue material on his tailored dress pants stretched over his sizeable bubble butt until they tore straight down the centre seam, exposing the tight white briefs he wore underneath.

Dean jumped up and clasped his hands to his bottom, inspecting the damage and feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment. With the terror of potentially being caught in such a compromising position, he abandoned his coffee and ran out of the building, deciding to go and visit Mr Goldman.

As Dean ran down the street with his hands clasped over his bottom, he trod on the laces of his dress shoe that he had yet to re-tie and stumbled forwards. Throwing his hands out in front of him to break his fall, Dean fell to his hands and knees, landing hard on the concrete. Relieved that no one was around to see him, Dean pulled his feet underneath him and rolled backwards slightly into a squat. As he did so, the crotch of his dress pants split with a loud snap and his briefs were on full view from the rear, his bubble butt straining against the white material.

Choking back a sob of embarrassment, Dean tied his shoe lace and ran the rest of the short distance to Mr Goldman’s store.

‘Mr Goldman, I need you to repair these trousers now,’ he said in an arrogant tone as he threw open the door and stumbled into the store.

Mr Goldman looked up at the thirty-five year old over his half-moon glasses and shook his head.

‘I am not doing anymore repairs for you, Dean. You will need to find a new tailor.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Dean gasped and turned around to show Mr Goldman his unfortunate predicament.

Mr Goldman rose from the small desk where he was sat and came to inspect the damage to the beautiful suit pants that he’d crafted himself.

‘You have ruined these,’ he practically spat in disgust. ‘You are so careless with your suits. This is exactly why I won’t do any more for you.’

‘Please, Mr Goldman, I’ll do anything. I can’t walk around like this for the rest of the day.’

Mr Goldman appraised Dean over the frames of his spectacles and sighed. ‘You’re a nice boy, Dean, but you won’t take care of the clothes that I spend hours creating. I will not help you. Now please leave.’

Dean hopped from foot to foot in a blind panic. ‘I promise to be more careful. Please fix my pants.’

Mr Goldman wandered back to his desk when an idea suddenly popped into his mind. ‘Perhaps if you allowed me to teach you a lesson, you may be more careful in the future?’

Dean cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. ‘What do you mean?’

‘When I was a young putz like yourself, I’d be spanked to put me right. I think that’s exactly what you need.’

Dean shook his head. ‘You can’t spank me.’

Mr Goldman nodded wisely. ‘You are right. My hands are too delicate to give a suitable thrashing, but my assistant would be more than capable. Now, will you consent to your punishment? If you do, I will mend your pants whilst my assistant deals with you.’

Dean contemplated his options and deciding that whatever Mr Goldman’s assistant could do wouldn’t be as bad as the embarrassment of showing his tighty whities to the world, he agreed and Mr Goldman yelled for his assistant.

A man in his late twenties entered the store from a staircase. He was over six foot tall with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He had short styled brown hair and a light tan with a handsome face.

‘This is my assistant, Marcus.’

Dean merely nodded, his buttocks clenching at the fear of being given a spanking by this muscled hulk of a man.

‘Marcus, would you kindly take Dean here upstairs and give him a thorough spanking. He needs to be taught to respect his clothes, but mind that you don’t go too far. He’s still a customer.’

Mr Goldman gave Marcus a firm look and Marcus nodded before heading back up the stairs. Dean went to follow him, but Mr Goldman stopped him.

‘You need to give me your pants first.’

Dean nodded and clumsily took his pants down. He didn’t bother to remove his dress shoes and caught the heel on the crotch of his pants ripping them even further.

‘Get upstairs’ Mr Goldman yelled at him.

Dean practically ran up the wooden staircase, the heels of his dress shoes thudding on the steps.

He found Marcus in a small room that was filled with rolls of fabric. Marcus had removed his suit jacket and had rolled up his shirt sleeves.

‘Lean over here,’ he said with a grin.

Marcus gestured to a small set of shelves that were waist height. Dean obediently walked over to them and bent forwards slightly, placing his hands on the splintered wood.

‘Spread your legs,’ Marcus instructed. ‘And push that big ass in the air.’

Dean grudgingly complied and felt his hands shake as the fear began to overwhelm him. He hoped for some sort of warning, but Marcus’s large hand slapped down hard on his right cheek making the fleshy mound bounce with the force of the slap.

Dean yelped and tried to move, but Marcus laid a firm hand on his lower back and ordered him to remain still.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

Marcus’ hands were merciless as they pounded on to Dean’s large posterior. The burning fire that spread across his bubble butt to the tops of his thighs was unbearable and he whimpered with every blow.

‘Please, stop!’ Dean begged.

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

‘I can’t take anymore. Please!’

Marcus’ hand stilled before gently massaging Dean’s right cheek before moving on to massage the left. The burning sensation remained but the firm grip of Marcus’ hand aroused him and he felt himself harden against the tight material of briefs.

Marcus ran his hand down over Dean’s backside to the crotch of his briefs. Marcus grabbed what material he could and with a sharp tug, there was a loud rip and Marcus tore off the white material, leaving Dean naked from the waist down, except for his shoes and socks.

‘What the hell did you do?’ Dean gasped as he tried to stand up.

‘Teaching you a lesson. Now be quiet,’ Marcus instructed.

Dean settled himself back against the shelves, flinching at the prospect of a bare assed spanking, but instead he felt Marcus’ hand begin to slowly massage his cheeks once more. The sensation was even more arousing on his bare ass and he started to groan softly as his cock pulsed with arousal.

‘You like that, don’t you?’ Marcus said in a quiet voice.

Dean nodded and groaned again as Marcus traced his finger down the smooth valley between Dean’s cheeks.

‘Mr Goldman wants me to punish you, but if you promise to keep this between us, I can make it more fun.’

‘How?’ Dean said in a whisper.

Marcus ran his hand between Dean’s muscled thighs and grasped his cock in his hand. Dean moaned out loud and started to thrust himself into Marcus’ palm.

‘Shhhhhhh,’ Marcus said as he moved behind Dean and started to grope his big bubble butt with one hand, whilst he slowly jacked him off with the other.

Dean felt the arousal overwhelm him. The combination of the embarrassment, the spanking and the sexy man behind him were too much.

‘I’m going to cum,’ he gasped out loud.

‘Oh yeah,’ Marcus whispered behind him, increasing his grip on Dean’s throbbing cock.

‘Ahhhhh,’ Dean yelled as he shot his load on to the shelves in front of him; jet after jet of hot cum flying over the rolls of fabric on to the shelves. ‘Oh wow.’

Dean sank forward against the shelves as Marcus continued to stroke his large backside.

‘What is going on? Look what you’ve done to my fabric!’

Dean jumped up and turned around to see Mr Goldman with a face that was puce in colour with rage. Marcus had a tent in his pants and a small damp patch of pre-cum on the material.

‘Clearly you both need to be taught a lesson. Wait here!’

Mr Goldman stormed off leaving Dean and Marcus to look at each other wondering what on earth was going to happen next?