Wilf Hepplewhite took his latchkey and opened the door of his house. He stood in the hallway for a moment. His ears pricked. There was a faint, but unmistakable sound coming from the lounge. Someone was in the room. Carefully, so that he could not be heard, he closed the door. He put down his case and hung his coat on a hook, all the time craning his neck towards the sound. It was indeed unmistakable. He knew the room should be in silence. Furtively, he tip-toed towards the room. He stood outside and put his ear to the door. “Damn and blast,” he said to himself as his annoyance rose. He threw open the door.
Jake, his eighteen-year-old nephew, was slumped on a couch, feet on a table, watching television. The boy barely registered him as he entered the room and stood angrily. “What the b…” Mr Hepplewhite stammered, as he gesticulated wildly at Jake.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he found his voice at last.
The teenager merely glanced at his uncle. “Watching television,” he just managed not to add sarcastically, “what does it look like?”
His uncle’s face darkened. “You’re on restrictions. Did I say you were off restriction?”
Jake straightened himself up in the chair.
“And take your feet off the table,” Uncle Wilf growled. Reluctantly, Jake did so, silently glowering.
“And what’s this?” Uncle Wilf spotted what looked like bread crumbs. “What are my rules about eating in this room?”
Jake shrugged his shoulders and twisted his mouth. “I didn’t make a mess.”
“What. Are. My. Rules?” Uncle Wilf did not disguise his irritation. “What did I say?”
Sulkily, Jake replied, “No food.”
“Right. No food in this room.”
Uncle Wilf spotted a glass on the floor near Jake’s chair. “What’s this?” He had a clear suspicion as he swooped and grabbed it and wafted it under his nose. “I don’t believe it!” he stormed. “Whisky, you’ve been drinking my whisky,” he waved the glass in Jake’s face and repeated loudly, “I don’t believe it!”
Jake stayed slouched on the couch, trying to ignore his uncle, still with his eyes set on the television screen. “Doh!” Uncle Wilf was close to exploding. He grabbed the remote from the table and swung round to face the TV. The picture faded. He turned back to his disobedient nephew. “I cannot believe this,” he said again, struggling to find the words to match his anger.
“You’ve been nothing but trouble since I took you in.”
“Snot my fault,” Jake said sullenly. “I didn’t want to come.”
Uncle Wilf’s ire was rising. “I can’t wait until you finish school and you can join your mum and dad in their new home up north.” He paced the room, failing to control his rising temper. “I told you when you came there would be rules. It’s not much to ask to treat me and Aunt Sarah with respect. You are rude to her all the time. You treat this house like a hotel. She is not your chambermaid!”
The boy stared at the blank screen.
Uncle Wilf continued, “Your bedroom is like a pigsty and you leave a mess all over the house,” he waved his arms angrily. “Now, you don’t respect me when I punish you. Only yesterday, I said you weren’t to use the television.”
Jake grimaced, “I thought that was only for yesterday.”
“Did I say it was only for yesterday?” and when Jake remained silent, Uncle Wilf’s voice rose an octave, “Did I!”
“Well, no,” Jake reluctantly conceded.
“No,” Uncle Wilf paced the room, his heartbeat racing. “I’ve had just about all I’m going to take from you, Jake,” he raged as he walked. “What you need is a darn good spanking.”
Jake’s face fell, “A spanking?” he asked incredulously.
“That’s just what you deserve. A good old-fashioned spanking.”
“You’re joking right?”
“Do I look as if I’m joking,” Uncle Wilf stared intently at the teenager, still slumped. Then he began to unbuckle his belt.
Jake blushed, silenced for a moment by the sight of his uncle taking off his wide, thick leather belt and doubling it up. He was getting ready for action. He was not bluffing.
“B… but I’m too old to be spanked,” Jake blustered at a loss for words. “You.. you can’t.”
“Ha!” Uncle Wilf held the belt between both hands and snapped it making a loud crack! “Can’t I. We’ll see about that young man.” He glared at Jake. “Stand up.”
The boy slunk back on the couch. “No. No, you can’t,” he wailed.
“See if I can’t.” Uncle Wilf reached over Jake, gripped him by the wrist and tugged hard. The boy skidded to his feet. “Stop it. You can’t,” he wriggled and then swore hard.
“Right. That’s it.” Uncle Wilf kept his grip on Jake and sat down on the couch. It took a second to pull the still-protesting boy down so he was spread-eagled across his lap. “Stop that!” Uncle Wilf held the wriggling boy down. “I’m going to blister your backside and you are going to take it. Understand!” It was an instruction, not a question. “If not, you can pack your bags and be out tonight. I don’t care where you go. You’re not staying here.”
He did not wait for a reply. Jake was wearing “leisure pants” with an elasticated waist. Uncle Wilf took a fist full of material and tugged hard. The boy’s trousers and underpants came down together. Jake protested loudly but he was no longer wriggling so hard. Soon, his buttocks were bare. Uncle Wilf gripped the boy around the waist and hauled him so that his chest was laid out along the couch. His legs dangled behind him with his knees straight and toes hovering above the carpet. Like this his bare cheeks were displayed at an angle across Uncle Wilf’s thigh. They were perfectly positioned for the spanking Jake was about to receive.
“You’ve been asking for this for a long time, young man,” Uncle Wilf said as he took up his belt and carefully doubled it. It was wide, thick and heavy and would make a perfect punishment tool. Jake’s bare bottom twitched and the cheeks clenched. They were firm and round and made to be spanked. Uncle Wilf took a firm grip of the boy’s waist so he was pinned down. He raised the belt high and with as much strength as he could find he lashed it across the very centre of his target. He was delighted to be rewarded with two sunset stripes. He whacked again and again and in no time Jake’s bottom resembled a plan of a railway junction.
The boy gasped as the leather lashed him. After a dozen or so more whacks he began to quietly yap.
“Good, you’re feeling that,” Uncle Wilf scoffed. “Am I getting through to you?” he asked. This time he expected an answer and when none came he lashed the belt harder, “I said, am I getting through to you?”
“Yes, yes,” Jake was breathless. “You’re hurting me please stop,” he wailed.
“I’ll stop when I’m ready to stop,” Uncle Wilf responded slashing the belt across the backs of Jake’s thighs.
“Ouch! Ooooh! Please stop. I’ve had enough!”
Uncle Wilf hammered the leather belt across Jake’s naked bottom. “You’ve had enough when I say you’ve had enough,” and he continued the thrashing. By now the whole of Jake’s bottom glowed scarlet. The outline of the belt was embossed across his cheeks and thighs. The boy’s yaps increased in volume to become yelps.
“Are you going to start behaving now?” Uncle Wilf was gasping himself.
“Yes,” Jake answered with alacrity.
“Yes, what?” Uncle Wilf landed an especially hard swipe.
“Yes, I’ll behave.”
“Yes, what?” Another swipe landed on the underside of the cheeks in the most sensitive sit-spot. “Yes, sir!” Uncle Jake roared.
“Yes, sir,” Jake mewed.
“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Have you learnt your lesson?”
“Yes, yes,” Jake almost screamed. “Please stop. Please.”
Uncle Wilf’s heart was racing. His blood pressure was off the scale. If he didn’t stop spanking soon he might have a seizure.
“I’m not so sure,”’ he answered his nephew and laid another six slashes low on the boy’s left cheek. Jake was spent. He lay submissively across his uncle’s lap, stretched across the couch. Entirely at the older man’s mercy.
“If I have to do this again …” Uncle Wilf let the thought trail off and landed six more across the right cheek. The boy’s entire bottom was hot and welted. Later when Jake rubbed the palms of his hands gingerly across his buttocks the surface would feel like leather.
Uncle Wilf slashed two more across each cheek for good measure. “Okay. That’s it. Stand up.”
Jake sprang to his knees, he stumbled and held on to the table to stop himself tumbling to the ground. He hopped from one foot to the other doing the traditional spanking dance. His hair was wet with sweat. His face glowed and was as scarlet as his bottom. His eyes shone. He wriggled as he returned his trousers and pants to their rightful place. He couldn’t bear to look at his uncle.
“Will I have to do this again,” Uncle Wilf asked calmly. Jake was still rubbing his bottom, “No, sir,” he replied meekly.
“Good. Go to your room.”
Jake hobbled across the room and Uncle Wilf heard him take the stairs two at a time before there was the sound of a slamming bedroom door.
Uncle Jake threaded the belt through the loops on his trousers. The front door opened and his wife walked in. Her face fell as she caught sight of him. Then it dawned on her what had happened and she smiled. “You look like you’ve been to hell and back.”
He snorted a laugh. “Make us some tea and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Picture credit: Eitan
Other stories you might like
More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
Also writing school stories as Scholastic here
Charles Hamilton the Second