Warren’s awakening

used slipper carpet (5)

 

Warren Hunter looked out the bedroom window anxiously. Any moment now his uncle would call him down to the sitting room. It would be a spanking for sure. He couldn’t complain. He knew he deserved everything that was coming to him.

Warren was in turmoil. He was so ashamed. How had things come to this?

He had been sent to stay at Uncle Alfred’s by his mother. She said it would be temporary; a “cooling off” period. But, he knew his uncle’s reputation; his arse would get a “warming up” first.

The row and the tears had been the final straw. He had been giving his mum a hard time for years. He was nineteen years old, there was no way she could control him. He didn’t have the words to explain what was going on in his head. Warren knew there was something wrong with him; but he didn’t know what. He had a crappy job in a supermarket; at home he rowed with everyone; his mum, his two older brothers and even the neighbours. Dad had walked out years ago leaving mum to cope with the kids on her own.

“Warren! Get down here!” Uncle Alfred was at the foot of the stairs. The teenager hesitated. He knew what would happen now. What choice did he have? Take a spanking or not; those were his options. If he did he could stay at his uncle’s place and try to sort out his life. If he didn’t; he’d be sleeping on the streets.

Warren was no philosopher; he wasn’t a deep thinker. If someone told him he was a “pragmatist” he wouldn’t know what they meant. He just knew he had to go through with this. He’d never been spanked before. Hell, he thought, a spanking, how bad could it be?

Slowly he padded down the stairs to find Uncle Alfred in the front room.

A dining room chair had already been placed in the centre of the room. Taking the teenager by the arm, Uncle Alfred led him to the chair and sat down, leaving Warren to stand as his uncle pushed up the sleeves of his own shirt. Then Uncle Alfred leaned forward and removed the bedroom slipper from his right foot.

A shiver went through Warren. His resolve to accept the spanking was evaporating. He wanted suddenly to hang back, to plead for mercy, promise to do better, to do anything if Uncle Alfred would just not spank him.

His uncle was not a pretty sight. He was in his forties and had a large belly that in his present sitting position flopped across his lap. His legs were fat and when his uncle parted them slightly he provided an ample platform for his nephew to drape himself over.

This might be Warren’s first-ever spanking but his uncle was a veteran. He had developed a ritual over many years. Quietly, he spoke, “Take down your jeans.” And when his nephew stared back with alarm, he added reasonably, “You won’t feel a thing with them on.”

Uncle Alfred squeezed the bedroom slipper in his fist and watched the nineteen-year-old fumble with the waistband of his jeans. He didn’t seem able to get his fingers to work. Slowly the fly buttons were opened and the denims slithered down his thighs and rested at his knees.

“Please God,” he prayed silently, “Don’t make me take down my underpants too.”

Uncle Alfred shifted his vast buttocks on the hard chair and straightened his back. He was almost ready to get on with the job.

“OK, over here,” Uncle Alfred slapped his knee to indicate Warren should bend over. It was a simple command, but one his uncle expected to be obeyed. Warren stood his ground, unable to move. Then he took a half step back, as if he intended to run away.

“Doh!” his uncle wheezed. Then, he took hold of the teenager’s arm and forcibly pulled him down across his knees. To break his fall, Warren placed both hands on the carpet in front of him. His legs were left dangling behind him.

Uncle Alfred wrapped his arm around his nephew’s waist. “Keep your legs straight, raise your bottom higher.”

Warren twisted and turned until he was positioned to his uncle’s satisfaction: head low, bottom high. He could see his uncle’s feet and the ugly yellow-and-cream carpet. Dust tickled the back of the teenager’s throat

“Spread your legs more.”

Warren gasped as he felt Uncle Alfred grip the elasticated waist of his pants. The thought, “Oh, no! He’s going to pull them down!” flashed through his mind. But instead his uncle smoothed out the cotton of the boy’s underpants, eliminating all creases. Soon, the tight mauve-and-yellow-patterned pants fitted the buttocks like a second skin.

“Give me your hand,” it was a final instruction. Uncle Alfred took hold of his nephew’s wrist and turned the boy’s arm up his back. No matter how hard Uncle Alfred spanked him and how much it hurt, Warren was trapped across his uncle’s knee. He wasn’t about to go anywhere until Uncle Alfred said so.

“Right young man this is going to teach you a lesson.”

Then, Uncle Alfred gripped the slipper tightly and put it to work, smacking Warren’s bum soundly and briskly. The teenager winced the moment the first slap hit home. Uncle kept up a momentum. Slap! Slap! Slap! Three on the left cheek: Slap! Slap! Slap! three on the right. With great expertise, he concentrated on the very tender spot where the bottom joins the thighs, dealing out crisp smacks.

Warren screwed his eyes closed with pain each time the slipper crashed into his bum. He was a lean lad and didn’t have much padding in the buttocks area.

One smack followed another as Uncle Alfred put the slipper to use. The pain of the whacking took the teenager’s breath away, but he resolved to remain silent. Warren wriggled as the slipper connected time and again with his buttocks. Uncle Alfred spanked him thirty times or more; then paused to get a tighter grip on the slipper in his hand and then let fly again.

Uncle Alfred hadn’t said how many strokes of the slipper Warren was to get and after a dozen or so, the boy was finding it hard going to stick to his resolve and remain silent.

He let out silent yells as the next three slaps fell in rapid succession, all landing on the same sensitive “sit spot” on the right cheek.

Uncle Alfred set about his task with a will, but he too was silent. The only sound in the room was the thud, thud, thud of his slipper as it hit Warren’s bum.

And so it went on, slap after slap. He was making a good job covering all over the target area. Some spanks went high, some low. Now on the left cheek: now on the right. Warren could feel his bum heating up with the punishment. It would be red raw by the time Uncle Alfred had finished.

Then, without warning, he took hold of the top of Warren’s pants and pulled them down, not too far, but enough to expose both cheeks. The boy grunted. Uncle Alfred resumed the slippering, perhaps twice as hard as before.

Warren raised his head and flinched in pain with every blow. He could hardly catch his breath, it hurt so badly, but he bit his lip so did not make a sound.

On and on he went, spanking Warren’s bare arse. His body was making involuntary movements with pain, but his uncle still had the boy’s arm pinned.

Warren’s shoulders and head jerked high as each blow from the slipper struck his bum.

His eyes were watering, but he told himself, “I will not cry, I will not cry.” But, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stand much more without breaking down.

The humiliation was intense. There he was a nineteen-year-old man draped helplessly across Uncle Alfred’s knee, trousers at his feet, bare bum in the air, getting spanked like a little kid. His face was as scarlet as his battered bottom.

To Warren it seemed like an eternity, but the slippering lasted less than three minutes.

“Now, boy, you can stand up.”

In considerable pain, he rose from his uncle’s knees. Instinctively, his hands shot to rub his blistered backside. But, connecting his hands with the raw flesh only increased, the pain, it did not relieve it.

Warren was breathing hard, he was sweating badly and his eyes were full of tears, but he was not crying. His resolve had won through.

He twisted his body to inspect the damage; his buttocks were a deep cherry colour.

Gingerly, he pulled up his underpants. Uncle Alfred remained silent. He had delivered his punishment and as far as he was concerned it was all over. Until the next time.

Warren bent to his ankles and recovered his jeans. His hands were shaking, but he managed to button up the fly and buckle his belt.

“Go to your room.”

Warren took the stairs two at a time and crashed through the door into his bedroom. Within seconds his jeans and pants were back at his ankles. He pointed his bum at the dressing table mirror and traced the contours of his buttocks with his fingertips. The pain had mostly gone, but he found it would return if he pressed into his bony globes. He did and it felt really good. Warren had never looked at his bum before; not closely. Compared to his hairy legs it was almost totally bald; there were some wisps of hair in his crack that he’d never noticed before.

It was quite small. He could cup a cheek in the palm of one hand. There wasn’t much “give” either. Unlike his fat uncle, Warren was lean and wiry.

The teenager leaned forward and thrust his buttocks at the mirror. Without warning his cock stood stiff. Whoops. It always did have a mind of its own. It had embarrassed Warren on numerous occasions.

He lay on the bed and stroked it, reliving in his mind the past ten minutes. He imagined what he must have looked like draped over his uncle’s lap; bum held high. The more he pictured the more his todger ached.

Somehow, he knew this wasn’t the end of it. There’d be more spankings before he could demonstrate he was mature enough to be allowed home. Or would there? Maybe next time it would a more severe punishment.

Warren closed his eyes and saw himself bent over the back of the old worn green settee in the living room. Uncle Alfred stands behind him swishing an old-fashioned school cane. Warren’s trousers are at his feet; his pants at his knees. His bared buttocks are raised high. The teenager’s head is low, he is almost chewing the cushion.

Uncle taps the cane gently across the centre of the cheeks. They vibrate gently in anticipation of the searing pain to come.

Uncle lifts the cane high and brings it crashing down.

Back in the bedroom Warren shot a load all over his tight flat stomach.

 

Other stories you might enjoy

Caught in their underpants

One hot summer afternoon

Dad’s despair

 

More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

 

Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.c

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