(Author's note: This quasi-fictional story was conceived during my visit to Australia with relatives.)
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Christmas came early for the Jephcotts but the work had not been easy.
A single parent for two years, Neva Jephcott knew she was losing in her power struggle with her two children. Kylie was fourteen now, and growing in rebellion besides immense self-knowledge and attractive _s_e_x_uality. In the wake of her vanity were her neglected housework, schoolwork and manners. Yesterday, Kylie had shown Neva her report card from school. Kylie had a singular C for Art amid a scoreboard of Ds and Es for everything else. In the report, the schoolmasters had also remarked about her incorrigible rudeness and unwillingness to be corrected.
Neva had lost her temper and control. She had also been ashamed to lose them, for it was so unlike her, but it had not been a good week what with the late alimony and Christmas around the corner. However, the real turn of the screw was provided by those gossips being minted in the neighborhood grapevine that her ex-husband had been seen about town with a new sheila in his arms. She was starting to wish she had taken her parents' advice to return to Louisiana with her children as soon as her divorce became final.
"You're capable of much better," she had scolded Kylie. "If you're not going to pull up your frilly socks and improve on these grades in the next exams, I'll take off your skirt and pull down your panty, drag you out before all the neighbors and then spank your bare bottom till it's black and blue. Then we'll see just how you'll ever again face young Shane Papadopoulos from the Milk Bar down the street."
Kylie had called her mother's bluff, screamed out a string of profanities and accused her of being a brutal pig, and then run upstairs to her room, leaving her mother to panic and sigh exasperatedly after her.
Just the same, handling Kylie required, in colloquial parlance, a fair dinkum smaller dose of intelligence than the measures Neva must essay to coerce her son to toe the line. A year older than his sister, Stacy was at an age when he clearly needed a male role model and father figure, both of which were absent in his life. Also absent was the smorgasbord of nourishment requisite to a teenaged boy's development: a healthy self-image, confidence and direction, among others. Stacy was simply his sister's antithesis. If Kylie was loud and a show-off, Stacy was a bit of a pushover and scaredy cat. If Kylie made friends easily, Stacy lost all he ever made trailing in his self-styled unfriendly tracks.
All things considered, Neva, in her simple-minded ignorance, assumed that her daughter's attitude problems were less cryptic than coping with the demands of her son's self-image complex. She felt that dealing with Stacy required more delicate negotiation. But all that psychological mumbo jumbo she tried to devour of the textbook pedants had ended up lost on her. In any case, Neva was flummoxed by the fact that her child-rearing methods were being sabotaged at all quarters, and was desperate for someone to remove the spanner in her domestic toils.
Which seemed timely that she should get a letter from an older brother of her ex-husband's, apprising that he was moving to her neighborhood. Not exactly her neighborhood, but close enough. Malcolm was being relocated by the district's welfare board, he had said in the letter, to be the new principal of a reform school that was situated some distance from Neva's suburban home. He was to expect his uprooting to remain until his retirement, unless he himself chose to resign before that.
Neva was excited. Seeing her brother-in-law again always excited her, for they had been close from the very first time they had become acquainted when she was just engaged to Morrow. So fond were they of each other that they continued to consider themselves related despite Neva's divorce from Morrow.
But she also felt that perhaps her prayers were being answered in Malcolm. Malcolm's father had been a decorated marine at Gallipoli, and Malcolm had been raised on his father's stable of military strictures. Mal himself was a schoolmaster for many years before he became the principal of a special school for boys, all the homeless, abandoned and delinquent ones that society had rejected. There he earned a reputation for his righteous ire as well as his balanced sense of preferences and practicalities. He would be such a good attitude arbiter for Kylie and role model of authority for Stacy.
When the appointed day arrived to receive her brother-in-law, Neva had insisted that Kylie wore her pink Country Road frock and Stacy his Sunday best. However as soon as she had called her children down to meet their Uncle Malcolm, she would discover and fume that both her children had disobeyed her once again. Much to Neva's humiliation, Kylie had put on black spandex bustier and low-slung spandex shorts, exposing all her midriff, instead of that nice Christmas frock of last year she had instructed her to wear. What must her Episcopalian brother-in-law think, Neva wondered, feeling ashamed of her daughter. And Stacy, always eager to please his sister, for he had such inadequate social skills that no one liked being his friend so he only had Kylie to play with, had pandered to her eyewashing him to disregard his Sunday best in favor of jeans and T-shirt. These kids were impossible!
But Neva weathered the storm brewing in her and, with a Victorian calm and patience, kept everything in her heart for now. The Southern belle in her reminded her that there was a time and place for everything and besides, she did not want to spoil the mood of supper for everybody.
Later in the evening, after a sumptuous meal of Neva's flawless Chicken Pot Pie, a secret family recipe that had been an oral bequest from Miss Lilimae, her aunt from her home country, and the children had been sent to their rooms to finish their homework, the adults got to talking about old times and new plans. Before long the conversation veered in the direction of Neva's dilemma of her children. Malcolm could see there was a problem but it wasn't something that couldn't be nipped by good old-fashioned corporal punishment.
"Do you mean spanking?" Neva replied. "I got this a lot growing up but I didn't think it was the done thing in this part of the world?"
"Discipline is an individual decision the world over," Mal explained. "Some parents, the ones who argue against corporal punishment due to a health prejudice, believe in taking the hard route - sound advice, counseling, withdrawal of privileges. Others use the easier, foolproof way - through spanking the naked bottom with the hand or some other instrument for more serious offenses. But here let me preface this by clarifying that I use 'spanking' merely as a generic term, you understand. I could mean caning, paddling, using the switch, whatever.
"Neve, I grew up with a man's hand on my bottom, and that had seen to my discipline needs. Kylie needs this. Getting knuckled under a spanking hand had also provided the impetus I needed to get on with I had to do. All Stacy needs is a push, and a hand, cane or switch on his naked bottom is just the thing to give him this push."
"You mentioned naked bottom twice, Mal," Neva said. "Do you suggest that Kylie and Stacy be spanked naked?"
Malcolm nodded and then explained: "See, Neve, I'm convinced that being spanked with no clothes on, particularly below the waist, works better and faster. We're trying to make the point that these kids are being spanked because they're behaving like children. And all children are subject to having their underpants yanked down by adults as and when. If these kids want to avoid this, they must start to display responsible behavior, otherwise their clothes come off and their bottoms get spanked."
And so as the discussion took its course, Neva was to convince Malcolm to move into the guestroom until such time when her teenagers were seen soundly grounded in the mores of acceptable behavior and manners. This, Malcolm had also been convinced to take charge of, since he had been the one generous enough to offer. Indeed, Neva had no choice but to agree to turn over her adolescents' discipline to Malcolm. She could no longer sit still and knowingly allow them to free fall in sin. Her other recourse was to take responsibility for the kids' growth retrogression and relinquish custody of them to the welfare office; but she loved them too much to take this course and watch them be handed over to their drunken and abusive father.
And so when Kylie and Stacy returned home from school the following evening, their mother broke the news to them and at the same time set them some new ground rules for living with their uncle and her. Of course, quite predictably, Kylie had decried the adults' decision in a windy and expletive-laced statement of rebellion. Stacy had only stared in his usual way, his mouth gaping open. But as soon as he saw how tormented all this was making his sister feel, he supported her show of defiance.
Poor Neva would have broken down under all her teenagers' emotional blackmailing had Malcolm not intervened at the right time. It was incredible. As soon as Mal stood up from the couch on which he had been ensconced throughout the time the frustrated mother was giving the teenagers their new rules for living, the children quieted. It had as much to do with Mal's stature - he was a big man at 6 feet 5 inches and 230 pounds - as his dour implacability.
"Now that's quite enough," their Uncle Mal said in a voice that thundered, "your mother has spoken and you will obey. As long as you're living under this roof and being provided for by your mother, you will honor her word. From now on I will be handling your discipline as your mother has stipulated. You will answer to me whenever you break a rule because your mother has said so. You will also answer to me and come to me for discipline as and when your mother or I feel is necessary, and not question our premises. You will start behaving like decent human beings from hereon and any time your mother or I feel that you're failing, you will be called to me for discipline.
"You will have a taste of the kind of discipline I am talking about in a short moment. But for the next half an hour, go upstairs to your rooms and stay there while you think about everything that we have said to you today. After that we will call you down and ask you if you still disagree. But the consequence of not agreeing is this: leave school and find a job and start paying your own way. Or else live with your father. Now go!"
With this, Kylie and her brother were committed to their rooms. There was no prize for guessing what their decision would be. Kylie was too vain to settle for a menial job that worked her elegant fingers to the bones and Stacy was not confident enough. So a decision contrariwise would be an intellectual leap in the dark.
"Sh*t _d_a_m_n_!" Kylie swore, clawing at her bedcovers. "My life is over!"
Stacy, who had left the door of his room open, had heard his sister's complaint. He kept quiet. He had always liked his big Uncle Mal. The half-hour went by quickly while Kylie continued to rant.
"Okay," Mal said standing his teenaged niece and nephew before him and their mother, "let's begin with you, Kylie. Have you made your decision?"
"Well, I think it sucks big time," Kylie grumbled.
"You'd better watch that mouth of yours if you don't want it washed out with soap," Mal scolded. "Now let's try this again."
"All right," Kylie sobbed, "I agree to live by the new rules."
"And you also agree that you can and will be punished any time you fail," Mal said.
The girl nodded.
"I didn't hear you," Uncle Mal said again.
"I do," Kylie sobbed, "I agree. Okay?"
Turning to his nephew next, Mal posed to Stacy the same questions that would obtain, from his own lips, permission to hand over his discipline and correction to his uncle. The youth nodded his reply and then mumbled, "yea, okay."
"Yea, okay what?" Mal asked.
"Okay," Stacy answered, "I agree with everything. Whatever."
Mal thought his nephew lacking as much civility as his sister, but ignored them both for the time being. Instead he ordered the adolescents to approach him. As soon as they had, standing quite close to their uncle, Mal reached for the boy's uniform and went on to take off all of his tie, shirt, jumper and pants, even his socks and shoes, so that Stacy was soon rather naked in just his singlet and white briefs. Mal had said not a word. Next he reached for Kylie's uniform. Looking stunned, the girl nevertheless submitted to being undressed by her uncle. Her shirt, tie and pleated skirt were removed and then so were her black shoes and socks. The process swiftly left Kylie standing in dismay in just her underwear.
Uncle Mal paid minimal attention to the youths' semi-nudity but ordered them now to return to their rooms and begin making good their word to follow house rules by tidying up their rooms, which, according to their mother, resembled the municipal compost site.
"You have an hour," Mal informed them, "and after that come back down in just your underwear. Your discipline shall continue with your first-ever spanking this evening."
The siblings glared at their uncle and then their mother. Malcolm was expecting some demonstration of defiance once more but he was wrong. Without anymore ado, the youngsters dragged their feet to their rooms. This was remarkable, even for Mal. Nevertheless, he wasn't changing his mind about spanking his niece and nephew. It would be a mistake to show weakness and inconsistency now by changing your mind so soon. Besides, you could never tell, this early on in a teenager's training, what was in the teenager's mind precisely because on the outset he had demonstrated behavior that was unexpected. Perhaps the teen was testing you. Perhaps he was simply too worn down to be disagreeable. You could never trust the adolescent's mercurial moods. But the passage of time would soon ascertain if the adolescent were making good progress; time and the consistent monitoring of the child's own behavioral modes.
Neva was about to set the supper table when her children showed up again in the living room at the appointed time. They were in just their underwear as instructed: Kylie still in her white cotton brassiere and panty, and Stacy in his white singlet and briefs. But these were now quite sticky because sweaty, which showed off the youths' flesh under them. And in just this scanty attire, the teenagers looked all the more pasty-complexioned, slender and youthful.
Mal called his sister-in-law over and then directed his niece to stand before her mother while he had his nephew stand in front of him.
"I'll make this short," Mal began, "this is the first of your spanking, now or ever. It's clear your problem is due to neglect in the area of discipline and with a father missing from your lives, you're not entirely to blame. On the other hand, lest mothers be held responsible for the pitfalls of reckless youth, let me say that you yourselves are to blame for your own foibles, for everyone is born with a conscience to know right from wrong. Furthermore your mother has done her best to discipline you but you have not seen it proper to listen to her. So then you are also to blame for that. Make no mistake, all this is going to change now that I'm here and your mother has given me authority over your discipline. And mark my words, this won't be the last time you're getting spanked either. Now, Kylie, place yourself facedown over your mother's lap. You, Stacy, place yourself over mine."
The girl and boy did exactly as their uncle had commanded them.
"We'll begin by spanking you with our hands," Mal told them, not that it was necessary.
Mal nodded to Neva and told her to follow exactly what he was doing. First the adults pulled up the elasticized leg openings of the siblings' underpants, tugging at and stretching them out. Then they nudged as much of the garment as possible into the youngsters' crack to wedge in their underwear. This of course exposed most of their bottom cheeks to be spanked. Thereafter the adults commenced the teenagers' spanking. For almost ten minutes the grownups swatted their bottoms until falsetto screams and sobs were forcibly obtained from their lungs.
SWAT! (Oohh!) SWAT! (Aahh!) SWAT! (Wah!) SWAT! (No, please, stop!) SWAT! (Aahaha!) SWAT! (Aahahahahaha!) SWAT! (Aahahahahah! Ss - stop, ahahaha! Aahaha!) Mal was grateful that the blinds had been drawn shut.
Much later, at Mal's word once more, the children were let up the adults' knees.
"All right," Mal said now, "take off that singlet, Stacy. Kylie, remove your bra. And be quick about it."
Kylie sought her mother, looking in her habitual defiant way but Mal had caught her upper arm and asked: "Would you prefer that I took your undies off for you?"
With tears remaining in their eyes, the siblings lifted their fingers to their undergarments, working nervously to remove them.
Neva and Mal watched the youngsters put Mal's order into action. Before long Kylie's breasts were exposed as were Stacy's narrow torso and his pink nipples that seemed to have hardened. Now their uncle ordered that they remove their underpants. The youths' cheeks were visibly red as they took off their own underpants, once more under the adults' watchful eye. Kylie and Stacy turned to each other, both completely naked and exposing their private parts to each other and the adults before them. Suddenly embarrassed, they let their heads drop to their chests.
"Okay," Mal said, helping himself to Kylie's pubic hair, pinching a wisp between his fingers, "Kylie, it seems part of your attitude problem is pride about your beauty and vanity. The problem, I think, may be your pubic hair. You seem to think because you have that, you're a big girl now and can do whatever you like. Well, you're not a big girl, Kylie, at least you don't behave as if you are. So until you start to act like a mature young woman, your hair down here will have to go."
Turning to the boy next, Mal took hold of his genitals, observed these solemnly and then grasped a tuft of his pubic hair. He said to the boy: "Stacy, your self-loathing and self-destructive fear and anger are incongruous to your appearance like a man. Unless and until you start to behave like a grown up man, you are not allowed to sport hair down here. In a moment your mother and I will shave you of all your hair down here, the both of you. If you want us to allow it to grow back, you will both have to adjust your behavior and manners. Now get your tails into the bathroom. Quick march!"
The youths swallowed their pride, tucked their tails between their legs and, with their nakedness all exposed, meekly led the way to the bathroom.