Paul's Uncle David was unusual.
At least he seemed so to Paul who, at 15, had seen little life outside the big city. Uncle David lived on an island in an inlet from the sea. And he had never met Paul, perhaps because his parents seemed to disapprove of him.
But then one evening he overheard his parents talking.
"I know David is a bit strange but he's our only option," his father was saying.
"I hope you know what you're doing," his mother said.
"David will do him good," his father said. "We've been too soft on him. David was brought up by my grandfather..."
"...who had some very strange ideas.."
"Not so much strange as, well, Victorian. Look, if we're going to get out to Canada for Christmas to spend time with your mother, we'll have to decide."
"Oh well, I suppose Paul's old enough to encounter the real world now."
"So we're agreed?"
"Yes."
The next day, Paul's parents told him that he was to stay with his Uncle David, because his grandmother was ill in Canada. He was told that David was much stricter than his own parents and that it was no good him coming back with complaints about punishments if he misbehaved. "I won't listen," his father said.
In truth Paul was quite excited to escape home for the holiday. He was an only child and found his parents boring. He never really talked to them, so goodness knows why his father said, "I won't listen." He never did anyway.
Two days and a long rail and bus journey later, Paul was being driven across the short tidal causeway between the mainland and his uncle's small island. Only David lived there, alone in the large house on the island, which he had inherited from his grandfather.
Uncle David was 50 years old, nearly six foot tall, big chested and strong. His ginger hair was thinning and he was clean shaven. He was given to tweed suits and brown brogues. He smoked a pipe.
Paul was quite a young fifteen, with fair curly hair, blue eyes set in a smooth pale face - and a curvaceous, almost female body.
David showed him to his room upstairs. It was large almost to the point of being baronial; all the furniture was dark oak and the walls were wood-clad. He had his own bathroom off the bedroom. There was another door and Paul asked where it led. "It's an old secret passage. Don't go down there."
This of course was a trap, though Paul did not know it. He had tea with his uncle, watched some TV and went up to bed at about ten. But instead of undressing for bed, he unbolted the door as quietly as he could.
As he opened the door, there was an inrush of stale, warm air. The corridor behind was in darkness. He had brought a torch with him, so that was no problem. His torchlight showed a set of stone stairs going downwards in a spiral.
After he had decended far enough to take him into what he judged must be the cellar, he came to another door, which opened even though it was stiff.
He did indeed find himself in a cellar. His torch picked out a light switch. He turned on the light and saw that he was in a small, comfortably furnished lounge, with a TV and VCR, a settee, two armchairs and matching footstools and an occasional table.
It was only then that he took in the framed pictures on the walls. They were paintings and prints of boys, all naked, all about 12 or 13 he judged, in some very _s_e_x_y poses. He had never seen anything like them.
At this point, his eye caught a set of bookshelves which he had also missed when he first entered the room. He went over to them and drew out two magazines from a pile. The front cover of the first immediately took his eye. There was a fourteen year old boy being sucked by a man.
Paul became aware that his pulse had increased. Flushing a little and feeling unfamiliar feelings, he sat in an armchair and began to leaf through the first magazine. They were all "suck" pictures, with young teens of different ages; then, towards the end, there were "cum" pictures. By now, without thinking, Paul's _c_o_c_k_ was hard in his denims and he was rubbing it.
"I see you found an early opportunity to disobey me."
Paul nearly jumped out of his skin. His uncle was standing behind him looking over his shoulder.
"You appear to have a taste for the unusual. Put that magazine down and look at the cover of the next."
Paul automatically did as he was told. The front cover of the next magazine showed a young teen boy bending forward and spreading his arsecheeks to show his tight young arsehole. Paul went bright red. He had no erection now.
"These magazines were left here by someone who rented the place for a year whilst I was away abroad. Goodness knows why he left them behind. I've never got round to clearing them up. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished for this. Follow me up and turn off the light as you go."
Paul put down the mags and followed his uncle through a different door and up a single flight of stairs to the ground floor. He was taken into the drawing room, where a log fire burnt.
David sat himself down in an armchair by the fire, drank a little whisky, and told Paul to stand in front of him and slightly to one side. He looked at the young boy in his red woollen sweater, blue jeans, black trainers: not for the first time since they had met, he noted how attractive he looked. A comely young lad. He felt smug pleasure at the power he wielded. "I used to be punished by your grandfather when I was your age," he said. "Has your father told you about your grandfather?"
"No, uncle."
"He was a stern, sometimes one might say a cruel man. But I believe he made a man of me in the end and I have to admire his techniques. Your father, who lived with my parents, was rather more spoilt, though he did tangle, memorably, with grandfather on one occasion, when he receved a whipping on the bare bottom in front of the housemaids - he must have been 14 then. But uncle had many methods and techniques. I warned your father that I still believe in grandfather's methods. Did he tell you this?"
"No uncle."
"How very cowardly of him. But then that was always his way. If in doubt, avoid. Your father was told that if I took you in I reserved the right to deal with you as I saw fit. All he said was, 'Not the most extreme of grandad's punishments'. Though actually, he never knew the most extreme. I will certainly not whip or cane you, as I was whipped and caned, naked, indoors and out; nor will I send you out naked but for a pair of wellington boots, into the rain and wind to gather birch twigs for a switch which then was used to cut my little arse so I couldn't sit down for days. None of that. But you are to be punished and you will learn to obey. Do you understand?"
"Yes Uncle," Paul said, though he did not yet fully understand.
"Good. Then take a bath, put on your pajamas, dressing gown and slippers and come back down to me for your punishment. Off you go boy."
Wondering what exactly was to be my fate but being entirely unable to conceive the range of possibilities, Paul had his bath, dried and talcumed himself, put on his nightclothes and returned to his uncle, who had not moved from his chair, where he was reading a novel. Paul stood before him.
For a while he took no notice, just leaving him there to stew. Eventually, he put down his book, sat forward and said, "Very well, let us investigate your prime site for tonight's punishment." He took the cord of his dressing gown, tugged it so the knot undid and said, "Remove your dressing gown and place it over a chair."
Still not knowing what was to come, Paul did as he was told and returned to his uncle's side. "I learnt from grandad, Paul," he said, "that the most effective punishments humiliate a young boy as well as giving him pain. Boys need to squirm with embarrassment, to be utterly revealed, to be totally embarrassed, to feel shame, guilt and fear. Stand here between my legs."
Still uncomprehending, but now more fearful, Paul stood before him, very close to him now. "Pajama trousers," he said, placing his hands on their elasticated waistband, are entirely superfluous to a good spanking, except in the sense that their progressive removal..." he pulled Paul's pajamas to just below his balls as Paul looked down in horror "...by a strange adult causes utter mortification to the mind of a young and immpressionable boy."
David could see everything - the pajama top hid nothing. He could see the boy's tuft of pubic hair, he could see his soft circumcised dick and large balls. He could feel excitement welling up within him. "Stand side on, with your bum towards the fire. That's it. Now pull down your own pajamas, be the instrument of your own downfall, take them off your feet and hand them to me."
These actions caused Paul to bend over, thus providing David with an enticing and entertaining view of the boy's hindquarters from various pleasing angles and elevations. Eventually the pajama bottoms were handed over. "I think I will keep these," David said. "In future, you will just sleep in your pajama jacket and you will wear nothing below it. Come, follow me."
David stood and led Paul to a padded footstool, onto which the placed a large cushion which he had him straddle at one end of the footstool, bending right forward and downward so he gripped the legs of the footstool at the other. This had the alluring effect of raising his arse above the rest of him and flaring his arsecheeks.
Paul was now both deeply embarrassed and quite frightened. All the talk of whips and canes had made him fear the worst. "Please don't hurt me too much, uncle," he begged. "I promise not to go to that room again."
"I will bear in mind what you promise," his uncle said, "and take it into account in what I know do." David knelt on the carpet by his flank, rested one palm firmly pressing down on his shoulders, anbd started to spank, slowly, but very hard.
At first it just smarted. Then Paul felt his arse getting hotter and hotter and more and more sore, to the point where he dreaded the gap between each smack, because it gave him time to imagine the pain to come.
David, meanwhile, was greatly enjoying the gradual transformation in the colour of his nephew's buttocks, from white, to pink and now to scarlet. He did not want to overdo the first spanking, so contented himself with a fusillade of final, fast slaps, which had Paul yelling for mercy and flailing his arms and legs.
"Good," David said, "You may put on your dressing gown and go to your room."
****
[Continued in Part 2]