The worst part of being paddled by my uncle Dan was the waiting. He would always perform the paddling of either me or my cousin Billy -- or us both -- on a Sunday afternoon after he, my Aunt Barb, Billy and I got back from chirch. But let me backup and start from the begining...
I spent 10 months of the year between my 15th and 16th birthdays living with my dad's brother, Uncle Dan, my Aunt Barb and my cousin Billy. My dad was a petroleum engineer and he and my mom spent those ten months in Saudi Arabia. Like my dad, Uncle Dan believed in spanking boys younger than 12 and paddling boys older, although I was to find out that the methods used by Uncle Dan and my dad were otherwise somewhat different. I already knew from my cousin Billy that Uncle Dan paddled more often -- either that or Billy was an especially naughty kid, which I don't think was the case. You see, according to Billy, he got paddled at least once a month whereas it was a bad year if I suffered a paddling more than three or four times.
I also learned from Billy -- a couple of years before I went to live with him for those 10 months -- that his dad, my Uncle Dan, spanked and later paddled him on his bare butt -- something my dad never did; I always got it with my underpants up.
"Don't you get it on your bare ass," Billy said to me one day when we were both about 13 years old and I was visiting his house at Thanksgiving time. "I *always* do," he said.
"No," I said, "my dad just makes me pull my pants down, but not my underpants!" I was amazed -- and somewhat intrigued -- that Billy had to suffer the embarrassment of displaying his bare butt to his dad. For several weeks after this revelation of Billy's, I tried to imagine what it would feel like having to stand and then bend over with my bare hind end in full view. I wondered if a bare-ass paddling would hurt more. I rather imagined that it wouldn't. I knew, however, it would definately be more embarrassing. I thought about this a lot and even found myself visualizing what my cousin Billy's ass might look like as he was made to take his swats without the doubtful benefit of underpants. At the age of 13, I had just learned to masturbate and I must confess that, under the covers, late at night, I jerked-off more than once with a vision of Billy getting paddled on his bare butt racing through my head.
Billy apparently thought a lot about paddling too -- and understandably so since he, by his own report, got it so often. One of our first private conversations after I had settled-in with him and his parents that year centered on paddling. I had wanted to bring the subject up but was reluctant; Billy saved me the trouble.
"I figure my dad will paddle you while you're here," he said. "What do you figure?"
"Yeah, I guess so -- if I need it. Is that what you mean?"
"You think you *won't* need it?" Billy asked. Such a possibility was foreign to his way of thinking, apparently.
"Maybe not. I sure don't intend on needing a paddling, that's for sure," I said.
"What you 'intend' has nothing to do with it, Karl," he said. "And if you think my dad is going to show any favoritism because he's not your dad, I'd say forget it. He's not like that. He'd as soon paddle your butt as mine, I'll bet."
And if there was any doubt as to what Billy had said, Uncle Dan called us both into his office that very night for a chat. Uncle Dan was an ordained minister at the local Presbyterian church and did a lot of work from his office at home. As we walked into the room, Billy and I both took a chair in front of Uncle Dan's large office desk.
"Okay, boys," he started, "let's get started off on the right foot." Both Billy and I guessed that this was not going to be a 'fun' talk. "Karl, you're going to be for the next 10 months, maybe a bit longer. Your Aunt Barb and I are glad to have you and that's the truth. We've got a big house, plenty of room and plenty of things for a couple of boys like you and Billy to do." I thought that maybe this little talk wasn't going to be as bad as I thought.
"Come this summer," he continued, "we are all going to spend 4 weeks at a cabin I'm renting at Lake Wennebee. It should be a lot of fun. Right, Billy," he said turning to Billy.
"Yes, sir." Billy said. "It was last summer."
"Right. And, as I said, there's lots to do around here too. But," he paused for effect, "...there's also lots of trouble you two can get into." He looked at me again. "Karl, your dad and I agree on matters of discipline, as you may know. He and I had a talk the other day and I think he has also had a talk with you as well." (He had, in fact.) "What I'm saying to both of you, but to you, Karl, in particular, is this: I'm going to treat you both evenly...equally. Karl, if you misbehave, you'll get whatever Billy would get for the same behavior. If the two of you meet me halfway, we'll do fine -- otherwise we'll have a problem." Uncle Dan stopped for a moment. Billy and I exchanged a quick glance at each other.
"Billy," he continued, reaching down and opening a drawer in his big desk, "how do I carry out discipline around here?"
"With a paddle, sir," Billy said as Uncle Dan placed a paddle on top of the desk.
"This paddle, Karl," Uncle Dan said, holding it up for me too see. It was made of a dark wood, about 18 inches long, maybe 3 inches wide with a round handle wrapped in what appeared to be black electrical tape. It didn't appear to be more than a half inch thick, probably less. It looked much more sinister than the ping-pong paddle my dad used on me. "This paddle hurts a lot, doesn't it Billy?"
"Yes, sir." Billy said and I could tell he was embarrassed at me seeing the instrument that -- until now -- had been his 'private' paddle. Uncle Dan lay the paddle down on the desk top again.
"Let's hope, Karl, that you don't find out how much it hurts. I know you are well behaved. But, then, so is Billy -- most of the time." He again paused for effect. "I've never had two boys to contend with but I've decided this: If either of you is to get a paddling, the other will witness it. I hope that this will serve as an extra deterrent, since -- putting myself in your places -- I sure wouldn't want to have someone observing me receive a paddling. So keep that in mind. And," he continued picking up the paddle again, "if by chance you both are scheduled for a paddling, they will take place one after the other with each of you observing the other's punishment. As I said, I hope that this 'public' paddling policy adds just enough extra embarrassment to keep the paddlings to a bare minimum. That is my hope. Questions, so far?"
Billy looked at me and I at him. "No, sir," we both said.
"Good." He turned and looked directly at Billy again. "Billy, what's the one thing that will guarantee you a long, hard paddling?"
"Talking back, sir." Billy said without pause. This was apparently one of his frequent transgressions.
"And is that likely to happen?" He looked quickly at both of us.
"No, sir," we both said in unison.
"Good." Uncle Dan took the paddle and replaced it in the drawer. "Billy, I want you to more or less explain the house rules to Karl over the next few days. Karl, I'm willing to cut you a bit a slack but not much and not for long. Don't test me; you'll find yourself bent over getting your behind warmed. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"And one final point for your benefit, Karl," Uncle Dan said. "Paddlings are always given on Sunday afternoon in this house as Billy will tell you -- if he hasn't already. Sundays after church. Right, Billy?"
"Yes, sir," Billy said.
"I do this for three reasons, Karl," he continued. "First of all, I don't want to administer punishment while I'm angry or upset. Having any paddlings scheduled for after church on Sunday gives me a chance to cool down and consider your punishment unemotionally -- assuming neither of you misbehave on a Sunday morning. Second, waiting until a Sunday afternoon gives Bill's mother -- your Aunt Barb -- a chance to arrange to be out of the house; she doesn't like to hear the actual paddling taking place. And third," he paused for a moment and looked at us both intently, "third, I think that having to wait for a paddling is part of the punishment; gives you a chance to think about what you did to put yourselves in such a predicament in the first place. Now, any questions from either of you?"
Both Billy and I looked at each other and answered: "No, sir."
"Good. Now let's end this little talk on a bright note. Karl, as I said before, your Aunt Barb and I are glad to have you in our house for the next ten months or so. Your aunt is especially glad since she has thought the world of you since you were in diapers. I like you too. Fortunately, we have a big, comfortable house, room for all, although your parents and I agree that you and Billy should share a bedroom. This should be a fun year. That's all."
Billy and I ran upstairs to our bedroom. I still hadn't completed unpacking my clothes and Billy and I still had to finish rearranging the bedroom furniture to accommodate the extra bed and study desk. We were both excited about our "living together." Aunt Barb had wanted to buy bunk beds but Billy and I talked her out of the idea and we had twin beds.
"Well?," I said as Billy helped me unpack.
"Well what?" Billy said.
"You know what I mean, Billy," I said a little pissed. "What do you think about us watching each other getting paddled?"
"I think it stinks, that's what I think." Billy said.
"Maybe you could talk him out of it -- I mean talk him into paddling us separately or something." I was secretly looking forward to having the opportunity of seeing Billy paddled. Not that I disliked Billy; actually he and I got along real well. I just had this desire to see him getting paddled even if it meant he could watch me getting it too.
"Don't make me laugh, Karl," Billy said. "You don't know my dad very well; I'm not likely to talk him out of anything -- especially anything involving a paddling. He's fair about it but real strict, you know."
I pretended to drop my interest in the subject but I was thinking hard about our first "communal" paddling as we continued rearranging the room to accommodate the beds and the extra desk. I kept thinking about how it would be, how and where Uncle Dan would have us stand or bend over or whatever position he would use. I caught myself looking at Billy's plump ass under his jeans as we worked. I tried to imagine what his bare butt would look like as the paddle landed hard across both cheeks. Would he yell? Would he gasp for breath? Would his face turn red knowing I was watching? And what about me? How would I take it? I suddenly realized that all of this fantasizing was giving me a hard-on.
"Does he paddle you here in the room," I casually asked a few minutes later.
"Yeah, why?" Billy said.
"Just curious," I said. "I always get it in my room too."
"Well, if I know my dad we'll both get one before long. He'll be looking for the slightest reason to do it so that we'll both know he means what he says. You just watch, Karl ol' buddy, he'll introduce you to that bleeping paddle within a week. Count on it."
I didn't say anything but thought to myself: "Good, I can't wait to see you getting your butt smacked." As I thought this I also hoped that Billy couldn't see the evidence of my hard-on through my jeans.
I again waited a few minutes then I said as casually as I could, "So, didn't you once tell me you got paddled on you bare butt?"
"Jeeez!, Karl," Billy said, you got a one track mind don't you? It's going to happen soon enough, why talk about it so much?" Billy was right about the one track mind part.
"I'm just curious, Billy, that's all. You can't blame me can you? I've never been paddled by anyone other than my dad after all. I just want to know, that's all."
"Okay, okay," Billy said. "I take it that you don't get it on you bare butt, is that it?"
"Right." I said still walking and standing so as not to have my, by now, huge hard-on obvious. "My dad just has me drop my jeans, bend over and then he starts paddling. I'm just curious, Billy," I said for the third time in the last half-hour.
"Well, all right, Karl, here's the way it goes, okay? First he sends me up here to my room to wait. I have to take my shoes off and lie down on my bed, face down. Okay so far?"
"Yeah. Then what?" I said trying not to act too interested in the details.
"Well, then I wait. And wait. Maybe 30 minutes, maybe less. It seems like a long time though, I can tell you that." Seeing my interest, Billy decided to put on a show. To illustrate his description, Billy lay on his bed, face down and turned his head toward me. "Finally I hear him coming down the hall. He comes in with the paddle in his hand. He stands there for a while, then he says something like (Billy dropped his voice low, imitating his dad) 'Stand up, son.'" Billy got up and turned to face me. "Then he starts talking about what I have done, you know, the reason for the paddling and stuff like that; how disappointed he is with me and all; that kind of stuff. This goes on for a couple of minutes. I'm just standing there, looking straight ahead at the wall."
"Then...?" I said.
"Well, then he says somethin' like 'pants down, Billy'."
"Without you turning around?" I asked.
"Yeah. Right. Well, I sort-of know to do that. So I just do it." Billy turned with his back to me. "So, I just undo my jeans and drop them. Then my underpants."
"Do you take them off?" I asked.
"What, my jeans?"
"Yeah, your jeans and your underpants." I said.
"Jeeez, Karl, what difference does it make? But, yeah, I just drop the jeans, you know, down around my feet and slide my underpants down and then step out of them, okay?" Billy unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped his fly. He started to let the jeans fall down around his hips then suddenly stopped, "you want to see exactly what I got to do?"
"No, that's okay." I said. What I wanted to say was: "Yes! Yes! drop them and drop your underpants too!" But, of course, I didn't say that.
"Good," Billy said, "'cause I'm not about to strip just for you, you know."
"Okay, okay." I said. "But you don't actually strip, do you? I mean, you still got your shirt on, right? So then what?"
"Well," Billy said looking back over his shoulder at me, "so now I'm standing here with my pants and underpants off and my butt exposed, right? I mean T-shirts aren't that big that they cover your butt, right?"
"Right."
"Then I get on the bed, on my knees, and bend down on my elbows." Billy got up on the bed and assumed the position. His jeans were pulled tightly across his butt. I attempted to imagine what Billy would look like without jeans and underpants. My erection was full now and felt like it extended halfway down my freaking leg. Biggest bonner I ever had, honest.
"Somewhere during the paddling he tells me to spread my legs apart," Billy said as he moved his knees wide apart. "That's so he can paddle here." He reached back between his spread legs and rubbed his hand on the inside of his leg. "It really hurts here -- or do you already know that?"
"My dad never paddles me there. For one thing the paddles he uses is to wide," I said as I watched Billy's butt raise upward.
"Yeah? Well, this one isn't. You saw it. It can smack you good on your legs -- on the inside here." He rubbed the inside of his leg again, up right next to where his butt ended. "Hurts like a son of a gun, that's for sure." Billy held this position.
"So," I said, "how many do you get?"
"Depends. Usually a dozen -- some straight across my butt, some lower down and, like I said, some on the inside of my legs. Whack, whack, whack!" Billy was trying to slap his butt with his hand but it was kind-of awkward for him. I got the idea, though. "To tell you the truth, he doesn't have to hit real hard with that paddle for it to sting real bad." Billy still remained in position as though there was more to explain.
"So, then what," I said. Billy hesitated for a second or two.
"Well....," he hesitated ...."I don't know if he'll do it to you but he usually gives me a couple of hard slaps with his hand too -- at the very end. They don't hurt all that much but...".
"What?" I asked.
"Well, I got to reach back and really pull my butt open, you know, with my hands." Billy raised up off his elbows, reached back and dug his fingers into the jeans and his buttocks. Then he flopped down with his shoulders and head on the bed. He made the motions of pulling his butt cheeks apart. "Then he slaps with his hand down across my...you know...my 'you-know-what' real hard a couple of times."
"Across your 'you-know-what'?" I said, teasing him a little. Billy hopped up off the bed and turned to face me. He was slightly embarrassed, I think.
"Yeah," Billy said. "Do you want to hear me say it?" He looked me straight in the eyes, walked up to me and with his face not three inches from mine he whispered loudly in my ear. "Across my butt-hole, okay? You know, my asshole. You know, where I _s_h_i_t_. Is that what you want to hear me say? You knew what I meant, Karl. What do you call *your* asshole, anyway?" Billy seemed a little pissed.
"Sorry," I said taken by surprised at his reaction.
"So," he said, " just what *do* you call that place back there where you _s_h_i_t_, Karl? Go ahead, tell me," he whispered, still talking into my ear. His manner was a bit overbearing. He was bullying me.
"Ahh...ummm," I stammered. "My asshole, I guess."
"Right." Billy said with a sound of satisfaction at having forced me to say it. "Your asshole, your anus, your butt hole, your _s_h_i_t_ hole, your poop-hole. Terry McCauber, who moved here from England a couple of years ago, calls it his 'bum hole' or his 'arse hole'. Whatever. Anyway, Karl, that's where he slaps me, okay?"
"Sorry," I said. "I'll bet it hurts, though --- getting slapped there, I mean."
"Not really," Billy said now stepping away from me and smiling slightly. "Not as much as the paddle on your butt cheeks does. Of course you can't really paddle a guy on his butt hole can you?"
"I guess not. But it would probably hurt like hell if you could." I said.
"Don't worry; the paddling on your butt and legs will hurt plenty enough. Doesn't sting long though. An hour later all you feel is the tingle, sort-of."
"I know, Billy," I said, a little pissed myself now. "I've been paddled before, you know, just never been paddled on my bare butt," I said.
"I don't think that having a pair of bleaping underpants on would offer much protection, really." Billy said. "But, come to think of it, Dad may still have you keep your underpants up since that's the way your dad does it. He said he wanted to be fair. And so maybe I'll get to keep my underpants up too. It wouldn't be fair for me to have to let you see my bare ass and I not get to see yours."
My heart sank. I hadn't thought about that possibility! _d_a_m_n_!, I thought to myself. Maybe I won't get to see Billy's bare butt after all and after all of my fantasies! Bummer. But I sure as hell couldn't suggest that I be made to pull my pants down too just to be like Billy. But that's what I was thinking. "Gee, Uncle Dan," I thought to myself, "since you paddle Billy on his bare butt I think it would be only fair to do the same to me." And now, after Billy's demonstration and detailed description I was really looking forward to seeing his 'you-know-what', his asshole!! Please, God, make Uncle Dan have me pull my underpants down; I don't mind spreading my butt and having my asshole exposed and smacked as long as I can watch you do the same to Billy!
I can hardly explain the state of excitement I now found myself in. All I can say is that after Billy's graphic description, I excused myself, walked across the hall to the bathroom, closed the door, lowered my jeans and underpants, sat on the pot, wet my hand with saliva and quickly jerked-off. I ejaculated into the bowl after only about 20 seconds of blissful rubbing. I could hardly wait until Uncle Dan had Billy and I scheduled for our first paddling together.
Later that night, lying under the covers in my new bed and thinking that Billy was asleep, I again reached down, slid my underpants down around my legs and began to slowly masturbate yet again with visions of Billy bent over getting the paddle. I proceeded slowly to make the most of my fantasy, stopping to wet my hand several times. Then finally as I released one of the most voluminous ejaculations of my young 15 year life and lay there breathing deeply, I heard Billy turn in his bed.
"What are you doing, Karl?" He said softly. I had no idea how long he had been awake, listening. Had he heard my soft cry as my semen shot into my cupped hand? Had he been listening all along?
"Nothing," I said after recovering from the shock of hearing his voice.
"Yeah, right," Billy said in a knowing tone of voice. "Let me know the next time you're going to do that, okay?" I said nothing, not knowing exactly what to say. A few moments later I heard Billy pound his pillow lightly and tug at his covers. Then nothing. I feel fast asleep.
This all happened on a Monday. Little did I know that Billy and I would be paddled the following Sunday.