Kit was lying on the double bed playing with his model aircraft, spinning the propellers. I had sent the eight-year old upstairs half an hour ago. Because it was hot in the room and he knew he was going to bed shortly, Kit had undressed down to his underwear, a pair of dark blue cotton briefs. As I came in he was hunched up on his elbows, legs akimbo, a study in concentration, a shock of red hair, close cropped except for a tail that reached down to between his freckled shoulders.
Kit eventually stopped playing with his gameboy once he realised that I was there. The boy had been with me for about five days out of the six weeks he was due to stay whilst his mother, my sister, continued working. He looked up at me, a little angry at my interruption, but also a little apprehensive as he knew he was in trouble for disobeying an order to go to bed.
I was no longer quite so angry with him but I was determined that Kit had to understand the rules.
"When I say go and get ready for bed, I mean it Kit". "I am ready – now". Boy logic at work, now I am ready it is okay isn't it?
I had been a teacher of boys for 15 years now so I knew that accepting that argument would only lead to more misunderstandings. I sat on the bed next to him, I realised that he was lying on my bed, and not his own bed, the one tucked in the corner. "When you asked to stay with me this summer I agreed on condition that you were good and did everything I asked. On your first day here you agreed to that, and that I would punish you if you were naughty, didn't you?"
"Yes Uncle Max, you won't tell mama will you?" I could see fear in his eyes as he realised that I was serious. That hurt me, I did not want my little nephew to be frightened of me like that but I knew that I had to carry out my promise. "No, anything that happens now is between you and me. If you accept my rules then your being punished by me will be the end of it, otherwise, yes I will have to tell your mother and that means that you might not be able to stay here any longer."
"Okay," apprehension in his voice. "Do I get punished now? Like, am I going to get spanked?" "That was the deal we made wasn't it?" "Yes sir." His answer surprisingly clear to show that he understood. I always admired a boy who accepted that he was to be punished. It made it easier, the spanking would be just as vigorous, but it made it easier to forgive the boy.
"Stand up in front of me." Full height, Kit came up to my eye level as I sat on the bed. "Now I am going to have to punish you as I promised, put your hands on your head." I pulled down his briefs as I did when I spanked any boy. His little manhood sprung out and pointed straight at me. "Step out of your underpants." Kit did as he was told. Two weeks Sun had left its mark, a ghost pair of speedos were outlined around his middle. His bottom, trim and quite muscular jutted out firmly.
I took Kit's upper arm with my left and guided him to my right side, my right hand now positioned on his bottom propelling him forward. Standing at my side, I pulled his arm down and Kit obediently went down, helped by my left firmly pushing. Kit bent his legs and his weight went on my right thigh and his body lowered onto my lap, his arms hanging down the other side, resting on the bedside carpet. I shoved him forward a little bit with my right hand between his legs so that his bottom was upper most and then spread his legs so that the inside of his thighs were within reach for the latter part of the spanking.
Because this was to be the first time I had spanked him, I decided that it must be a firm punishment. I used my standard speech for small boys. "I am going to give you a good spanking now, I don't want any fuss and no wriggling, is that understood?" "Yes Uncle Max" came Kit's quiet reply. His bottom tensed and his head went down. I put my left arm across the small of his back and trapped his left arm against my body so it was immobile.
I raised my hand and brought it down with a hard smack on the boy's pale bottom "Ughh" Kit jerked forward and his bottom quivered, a white spot visible. His buttocks clenched. I waited for them to relax and then I smacked him hard again. I set to work smacking in my number two style, about one smack a second, hard on the boy's constantly quivering bottom, it soon started to pinken and then flush red. I concentrated on his right and then his left cheek in turn and then both together,
As I spanked Kit's bottom methodically, left, right, both and then repeat, four strokes apiece, the cries of the spanked boy inevitably started to sound. I held him firmly, catching his right forearm as it came up instinctively to protect his bottom, his left still trapped between the bed and my thigh.
His legs kicked out and his voice got shriller. The ouches and ows became more insistent by 20 strokes, I knew I was giving him a good roasting to make up for all the little misdeeds I had noted earlier. I continued to spank on, to ensure that he was well and truly red raw and suitably punished.
After about a minute of constant hard spanking, I finally decided that it was time for the coup de grace. I paused, Kit, in his sobs and "ows" continued unabated. "I have nearly finished, just so that you can learn your lesson well. I am going to give you 12 more hard ones. Okay?" "Oh, please, please." He whimpered. I didn't wait, I gave him the last 12 smacks, four hard to the left, four hard to the right and four extra hard between his legs to catch his inner cheeks.
The silence was broken by little boy sobs. I kept my hand on his bottom, gently massaging, it was decidedly warm to touch. Kit had a surprisingly muscular bottom for a boy so young. My hand was ringing from spanking that little rump. For a couple of minutes I kept Kit on my lap, holding him firmly whilst I admired my handiwork, both cheeks rash red with crimson spots where my hand had landed hardest. I waited until the sobs subsided a little and then I lifted the boy up and set him on his feet. He was a little shaky so I kept hold of him. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, blew his nose and dried his eyes. They were still moistening so I walked him stiff legged into the bathroom.
In the bathroom I stood him up on the stool and, soaked a flannel in cold water and then wiped his bottom with it to ease the sting. As I did this I pointed out that he should be able to see himself in the mirror. Kit turned his tearstained eyes and looked. "It's all red, Uncle Max." He exclaimed. Nevertheless, I could see him take a keen interest, even touching it a couple of times. "It feels really hot!" I gave him a towel with which he gingerly dried himself and then he stepped off the stool and carefully pulled on his blue briefs over his red raw bottom.
I led him back into the bedroom, pulled back the covers to his bed and he climbed in, lying on his stomach carefully avoiding anything touching his bottom. As I kissed the top of his head through his hair, he turned to me "I promise not to be naughty again, Uncle Max I am sorry for being bad". I kissed him again, this time on his forehead and switched out the light as he settled down, head on the pillow, one underneath and his right hand reaching down inside his briefs gently massaging his tender bottom.
When I came upstairs later that evening to go to bed my self, Kit was sprawled face down on the bed, the covers pushed aside and briefs partly down, no doubt to allow a little air to what was undoubtedly a sore bottom.
I woke briefly in the night to the familiar sensation of Kit climbing into my bed besides me, as he often did. As he snuggled against me and I wrapped my arm around him, I noticed that his bottom was still noticeably warm, even through the cotton of his underwear. The next morning, as we rose to the sun and the sound of the surf, Kit climbed out of bed and stood in front of the mirror where he pulled his briefs off and inspected his still well reddened cheeks before he pulled on his speedos for our early morning swim together.