"So what age boy do you most imagine being punished?"
"11-14."
"Interesting. Which end of that age range?"
"11 or 12."
"I see. How do you imagine, say, an eleven year old being punished?"
"I think embarrassment is quite as important as pain."
"You like them squirming before you?"
"That's certainly what I imagine. Something leisurely and drawn out."
"A tantalising punishment?"
"Yes. Is this getting us anywhere?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, we can share fantasies, but I'm looking for the real thing. Do you know any boys who get punished like that these days?"
"As a matter of plain fact, I do."
"You do?"
"I do indeed. His name is Eric."
"How old is he?"
"Eleven."
"Eleven! You're kidding."
"I kid you not. He comes round each day after school. I am charged by his mother to look after him until she returns home and to administer any necessary discipline."
"So... he'll be round here tomorrow."
"Promptly at four O'Clock."
"I don't suppose...?"
"You would like to watch a punishment... or even participate?"
"Would his mother...?"
"Object? No, I guess not, not that he'd probably tell her, for fear of more punishment. I remember once .. he must have been 9 ... she dragged his pants down at a dinner party with seven guests there. So it's no issue...."
*******
".... This is Eric. This, Eric, is Mr Smiley, a friend of mine."
Eric wears a grey blazer, grey school shorts, a white shirt, a yellow and black school tie, long grey socks, and black lace-up leather shoes. He is fair haired, quite solidly built, with a well-rounded and firm bottom clearly outlined in his shorts.
"Do you have your daily report from school?"
"Yes Uncle." He hands it over. "I'm afraid it's not very good."
"Oh dear, yes. This means a spanking."
"Yes Uncle. Shall I go upstairs?"
"Oh no, I don't think so. I think we'll change the routine and do it here in the kitchen."
"Here! But... well... Mr Smiley...."
"What about Mr Smiley? I thought he could watch - or maybe even assist me."
"But.. uncle... it would be embarrassing..." Eric is already blushing.
"Well yes, Eric. All the better really. Perhaps you'll think twice before being so naughty again."
"But... here in the kitchen ... what if anyone comes to the backdoor?"
"I suppose I'd decide that at the time. You're not the only little boy in town who has his bottom smacked. Come, enough argument..."
Eric's uncle takes him quite gently by the upper arm and propels him to one end of the long kitchen table. "Spread your legs wide and bend forward with your hands holding each side of the table."
Eric does this. His uncle wants his legs a little wider and moves them apart by placing a hand on the inner surface of each of the boy's bare thighs. "Mr Smiley, come stand at the back here and lift the tail of young Eric's school blazer and fold it back upto his shoulders."
Mr Smiley does this - and so reveals the seat of the boy's grey shorts, nicely tight over his young bottom. Eric's uncle places an appreciative hand on the seat of Eric's trousers and rubs it around: "This, Mr Smiley, is what we might call the playing surface. It is commendably solid. Here, have a good feel."
Mr Smiley takes over the exploration of the seat of Eric's shorts, letting no area of cloth go unprobed. Meanwhile, Eric's uncle opens a drawer and takes out a large, flat wooden spoon. "We start with this, Mr Smiley. The spoon, Eric. We begin with what I might call a warm-up, nothing too severe, just enough to start the process of reddening Eric's bottom. Here, let me demonstrate."
Eric's uncle brings the spoon down with a thwack on Eric's buttocks. He does not hit particularly hard, but enough to make a satisfying noise. He repeats the exercize three times then hands the spoon to Mr Smiley and asks him to administer three more. Eric does not move or cry out; there must be some heat generated in his young arse, but not enough to cause severe pain.
"Good Eric." Stand now and remove your blazer."
Eric stands. His face is red. He removes his blazer and carefully places it on the back of a chair.
"And your shoes."
Eric stoops to undo his shoelaces, once again showing the two men the tightness and curvature of his arse. He removes his shoes and places them tidily under the table.
"Come, stand with your bottom against the end of the table here...good... and lean backwards. That's right, support yourself with your arms."
Eric's uncle places his thighs outside Eric's and stands so close to him, face to face, that the fronts of their bodies almost touch. He reaches down and unclasps Eric's grey shorts, then unzips them. He stands back a little. "Stand up, Eric, clear of the table."
Eric stands. His shorts drop to his ankles. "Pick them up and put them on a chair. Fine. Now bend over the table as you did before."
Eric has quite a long white shirt, which fully covers his nether regions, though not for long. "Mr Smiley, could you fold Eric's shirt up and into his shirt collar?"
Mr Smiley folds back the shirt, to reveal white Y-fronts, with a white vest tucked into them. As he folds back the shirt, the front of his trousers, in which there is an item of some solidity, presses briefly against the seat of Eric's underpants. Mr Smiley stands back to survey his handiwork.
Eric's uncle has an American paddle in his hand. He places it gently against the seat of Eric's thin cotton underpants. "The paddle, Eric." He smacks Eric's bottom, firmly but still not with undue severity, six times, and then allows Mr Smiley to do the same. At the twelfth stroke of the paddle, Eric permits himself a little grunt and when he is told to stand, he shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another and rubs his bottom.
Eric's uncle removes Eric's tie and shirt, leaving him just in white vest and pants. Mr Smiley now sees a noticeable semi-erection in Eric's underpants. Eric sees Mr Smiley's eyes looking at this - and Eric blushes some more.
"I think we will have you up here on the table, Eric. That's right. Now kneel at this end. Yes. Head down in your arms and bottom pointing up and outwards." His uncle guides Eric's hips and maneouvres his bottom until he has him with his bottom sticking out and up.
At this moment, there is a knock on the back door. Eric starts and makes to move. But his uncle presses firmly on his back and says, "Stay there. It's only Karl."
"But uncle..."
"But uncle nothing. Do you want the cane, boy? Please let Karl in, Mr Smiley."
Karl is fourteen, black hair, olive complexion, brown eyes. He is in his own school uniform, a light brown blazer, white shirt, brown tie, black long trousers.
"Hello Karl."
"Hello, Sir. Is Eric getting a punishment?"
"He is. Do you want to watch? It has to be a secret."
"I get it like that sometimes, Sir. I wouldn't tell on Eric."
"But you'd like to watch?"
"I would, Sir, if I can." Mr Smiley noticed that Karl's hand had gone to the front of his trousers: he was clearly turned on.
"Very well," Eric's uncle said, "Now, Eric, we shall give your bottom some firm little smacks. Let's say four each to make twelve."
The three of them take it in turns to deliver four smacks. Karl's smacks are particularly hard and cause Eric to yell out. Karl grins maliciously.
"This is turning into hot work," Eric's uncle says. "I have a suggestion. Why don't we strip down to our shorts or underpants? I can draw the kitchen blinds and lock the door."
They all strip. They each look at one another. Three rock-hard erections pressing wetly against the inside of their briefs.
"Right," Eric's uncle said, "Lie on your back flat on the table, Eric."
Eric does this. He is hard too. His uncle stands on one side of the table, Karl and Mr Smiley on the other. "Time to lose your vest, pants and socks, Eric." Eric's face goes very bright red. Karl pulls off his long socks, Mr Smiley removes his vest, and his uncle draws his underpants down and off his ankles. His penis is still hairless.
"Kneel back as you were on the table, but this time spread your legs apart more."
Eric does this, glad to have his head in his hands and not to have to look at his tormentors, who gather behind him and view his spread red arsecheeks, revealing a tight little arsehole.
They begin the final assault, smacking Eric at random all over his buttocks, hard now. Soon he is writhing with pain and his uncle holds him in place then, as the others finish their task....
***** *****