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When I went to live with my Uncle John and Aunt Carol I was seventeen years old. My parents had gone to Europe on an extended job and vacation schedule in conjunction with my father's work. As a young man in high school, very active in athletic and social functions at school, I was reluctant to take the trip to Europe with my parents. My aunt and uncle agreed to let me stay with them since they lived in the same city and would allow me to participate in all the school activities provided that I kept my marks up and behaved myself appropriate to my age and gentlemanly manner.
My parents gave Uncle John and Aunt Carol full parental authority as my legal guardians in their absence, including the right to discipline me in their capacity as guardians in the manner that they saw fit as it related to my behaviour and respect for authority. My parents were very well aware of the disciplinary methods of Uncle John and Aunt Carol since they had raised two sons who were now adults and out on their own. I was not aware of these methods but I soon found out.
I had just settled into my bedroom at my new home, having unpacked and put away my clothes and other personal items in my dresser and closet, when Uncle John and Aunt Carol entered the room. They made it clear that they expected exemplary behaviour from me and that any display of misbehaviour or disrespect, including disobedience or back-talk would result in immediate disciplinary action on their part. I stood red-faced with embarrassment when they further explained that such disciplinary action would consist of a sound bare-bottom spanking. When it was felt that a discipline session was necessary I would be sent to the punishment room where I was to go immediately, no hesitation and no questioning that direction. In the room I was to completely disrobe and wait for Uncle John or Aunt Carol to join me. They invited me to follow them to the third floor bedroom that they referred to as the punishment room. The room was sparsely furnished with a bed, a sturdy armless straight-chair, and a couple of small tables. On one of the tables near the straight-chair two punishment implements were in plain view – a large wooden-back hairbrush and a short, thick leather strap. Uncle John explained that when punishment was deserved I was to remove my clothes and leave them neatly on the bed. I was then to go to a corner that he pointed out and stand there, facing the wall, until he or Aunt Carol arrived to administer my punishment. I would be called over to the chair and would then be taken over the knee of the disciplinarian. Although they could understand my reluctance to comply it was imperative that I respond to their command without hesitation and without argument. They would not tolerate foolish delay or cowardice in accepting my punishment. Once in position I would be offered an opportunity to explain the behaviour that had provided the need for discipline as they did not wish to punish me unjustly. However, if there was not a satisfactory explanation for my behaviour, I would receive a sound and thorough application of the hairbrush and strap not only to teach me a lesson but to act as a deterrent to future misbehaviour. In every instance I would be well aware of the reason for my punishment and I would be welcome to apologize for my behaviour before, during or after the punishment session, and such apology would be very much appreciated, but unfortunately would not affect the severity of the actual spanking administered.
They asked if I had any questions and, of course, I immediately asked if they would consider other punishments instead of spankings. Both Uncle John and Aunt Carol laughed. They assured me that in raising their own sons they found spankings were by far the most effective punishments and that after I had felt the hairbrush and/or strap a few times they expected they would find them very effective with me as well. I tried to explain that I thought I was too old for bare-bottom spankings, especially from Aunt Carol, but they assured me that when behaviour warranted it you were never too old for a sound spanking and that after Aunt Carol started wielding the hairbrush and setting my bottom on fire I would soon forget that she was a woman and be only concerned with my stinging bottom. They advised me that Uncle John would be administering most of my spankings but there would be times that Aunt Carol would find it necessary for immediate retribution and would deal with me herself. I stood there, still red-faced with embarrassment, and wondered what I could do to get out of this predicament.
We returned to my room where we had a discussion of the rules of the house and the conduct that was expected of me. They welcomed input from me in setting up the rules but I was cautioned that any and all violations would result in discplinary action that I was now aware of. We discussed a curfew time that we could mutually agree on, chores that I was expected to do, the need for them to know my whereabouts at all times which included the need for me to phone if I was going to be late for any reason, and that I should be obedient to them at all times without questioning or arguing their authority. Uncle John assured me as long as I behaved myself I had nothing to fear but, on the other hand, should a discipline session become necessary I would have no one to blame but myself for the inappropriate behaviour that needed correcting. Since I had a hand in deciding the house rules, chores, and behaviour requirements it should be no surprise to me if they take disciplinary action when they are violated. He assured me that he had every confidence that I would be a well-behaved and respectful young man and that he would be very surprised if it became necessary to spank me at all. I looked at Uncle John and Aunt Carol and told them I had every intention of behaving for them but surely there were other punishments that could be considered. Both shook their heads. All I had to do to avoid a spanking, I was told, was to obey the rules.
All went well for the first three weeks at my new home. We got along well and I was happy to find they provided a warm and loving environment in the home. However, it was less than a week later that I experienced my first spanking. I came home three-quarters of an hour after curfew on a Friday night and was sent directly to the punishment room. I nervously removed my clothes, eyeing the hairbrush and strap on the table, and went to the corner. I had never been spanked in my life and had no idea what to expect. I was very worried and ashamed and deeply regretted missing my curfew. I stood for thirty minutes shivering in anticipation of the spanking before I heard Uncle John come up the stairs. He entered the room, sat on the chair and called me to him. I slowly and very reluctantly moved to his side and he immediately upended me across his lap, my bottom jutting over his right thigh and my head and feet dangling on each side of his lap. He held me firmly in position and asked me for an explanation for my lateness. I had to admit I had a lame excuse – I had merely lost track of the time. If I had realized how late it was I would have phoned but I didn't. Uncle John asked where I was, wanted to know who I was with, and wondered why I didn't phone when I finally realized how late it was. I answered his questions honestly, still shivering nervously across his lap in anticipation of the spanking, but I had no answer as to why I hadn't phoned. I apologized profusely and assured him it wouldn't happen again.
Uncle John then explained why he intended to punish me. First it was necessary because I had failed to meet my curfew time, a time that I had personally agreed to, knowing the penalty for violating it, secondly because I had not phoned as I knew I was required to, and thirdly to impress upon me the importance of obeying my curfew and not forgetting the time so that I would be much more careful in the future. When Uncle John finally asked if I was ready for my punishment, I nodded and answered "Yes, sir".
I knew I had no other choice. Embarrassing as it was to be stark naked and turned over his knee like a little boy. my bottom twitching and squirming throughout the inquisition, and realizing how vulnerable my bare bottom was turned up higher than the rest of my body and very much unprotected from the assault that was about to occur, I knew my spanking was inevitable.
Uncle John immediately began applying his hand to my bare bottom and thighs. Loud, sharp slaps rang out and I squirmed and twisted in discomfort. The continuous rise and fall of his stinging palm soon built up a heat in my bottom and thighs that had me whimpering and swinging my legs as my bottom continued to bounce about on his lap. There was a slight pause, then I felt the first loud smack of the sturdy wooden hairbrush as it visited my right bottom cheek. This was followed by an equally loud smack as the hairbrush visited my left bottom cheek. I gasped in surprise with each one. Not in my wildest imagination could I have forsaw the stinging sensation that permeated my two bottom cheeks. My bottom heaved and tossed and jumped about on Uncle John's lap trying to deal with the scorching that the hairbrush produced on my bare flesh. Uncle John then applied the hairbrush soundly and thoroughly to my bare bottom and thighs with horrible effectiveness while I screeched and kicked with each burning impact. I struggled helplessly in Uncle John's grasp while my defenceless bottom and thighs felt the relentless sting of the sturdy brush as it rose and fell in a smooth cadence, visiting every part of my twisting, squirming bottom cheeks and dancing thighs. Uncle John never once missed his target as the hairbrush attacked my unprotected flesh with unimpeded accuracy. I was crying and bawling quite openly and my bottom felt on fire as Uncle John pu
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t aside the hairbrush and reached for the strap.
The thick black leather strap was applied directly to the fleshiest part of both bottom cheeks with a loud CRACK!! that burned like a hot poker. I yelled loudly and both legs kicked out with the shock of the impact. Uncle John administered the strapping with a thoroughness that probably comes from his years of experience. My tender bottom cheeks and thighs were no match for the harsh leather as it burned across bare flesh with desvastating results. The strap was applied mostly to my lower bottom cheeks and upper thighs, although the upper cheeks and lower thighs did not escape attention. The stinging impact of the harsh leather was indescribable. I yelled, I howled, I kicked, I jumped, I heaved about over Uncle John's lap, all to no avail. I screamed my apologies. I pleaded with him to stop. Also to no avail. He strapped my bare bottom. He strapped my bare thighs. Over and over again. Even with all my kicking and struggling I was unable to avoid a single stroke of the strap as it landed on target, burning deeper and deeper into my flesh. I realized that Uncle John was a strict disciplinarian and I was paying the price for my foolishness.
When Uncle John finally stopped applying the strap he held me in position across his lap while my burning bottom and dancing legs continued to react to the sting. When at last he let me up from his lap I immediately began rubbing my bottom frantically with both hands and danced around the room on the tips of my toes in a desperate attempt to relieve the burning pain. Tears were running down my face and I was sobbing and bawling and sniffling uncontrollably. I was indeed a well-punished young man. Uncle John escorted me back to my room, my bottom and thighs displaying their firey red color, as I carried my clothes in my arms. He left me with the suggestion that I think about my behaviour and the lesson I had been taught tonight.
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