Glued to the inside cover of the punishment book was a type-written sheet headed "Punishment Rules" which I asumed to be the work of my late grandfather:
1. Ensure your buttocks are clean before reporting to be spanked. 2. Always report naked for your spanking. 3. Bring with you your punishment book and the paddle. 4. Do not apologise or make excuses for your misconduct. 5. Obey instantly all orders connected with your punishment 6. Keep your buttocks still while being spanked. 7. Count the strokes out loud as you receive them, and express proper gratitude.
The first two pages of the book were filled with entries describing youthful misdemeanours in the summer vacation before Uncle Paul's 17th birthday, each entry followed by the number of whacks to be applied to his bare behind, and the note "received with thanks, Paul," and dated, just as if it were really an account book. In a 3 month period he had received ten spankings totalling over 200 whacks. I started a fresh page, wondering how long it would take me to get the same number from him.
I phoned uncle Paul as soon as I got home from school on Friday to tell him I'd got 5 entries in the book and needed to be severely spanked. He said there was no way he was going to dole out that much punishment in one session, and I'd have to tell my mother I'd be staying the weekend. She said she'd be only too delighted to be rid of me, but it wasn't fair to inflict me on my uncle for so long. He said it was no problem, as he had lots of chores for me to do between spankings, and there was "no better slave than a boy with a well tanned backside!" I liked the idea of being uncle Paul's slave-boy for the weekend and said:
"Yes, master! What kit will I need master? I'll get arrested if I cycle over naked, like it says in the rules! "
He laughed, and said he'd stretch a point, and allow me a pair of shorts,"just for the journey." I was ordered to report at 6pm precisely.
Uncle Paul had inherited his father's rather grand house outside town, complete with swimming pool, while the money went to his elder brothers (my mother had been disowned and disinherited when, pregnant with me, she went off with my father against his wishes). Living alone in what seemed to me a mansion, with no money to pay for help, I could understand why my uncle needed a willing slave!
I was more than a little apprehensive as I set off on my bike, freshly showered and clad in my _s_e_x_iest shorts, filled with that strange mixture of erotic excitement and abject fear that always afflicts me on these occasions. I was half way there when I realised I'd left behind my punishment book, and had to go back and fetch it. I eventually arrived, breathless and sweating and convinced I was late, speculating on what sort of flogging a disobedient slave-boy might merit! I removed my shorts at the door, and rang the bell. No answer came, and I began to hope he'd been called out somewhere and my lateness would go unnoticed. Then I heard splashing from the back of the house, and hurried round to find my uncle disporting himself in the pool. Like me, he was stark naked, and I saw for the first time what a splendid bronzed, athletic body he had. "You look hot and bothered," he called out. "Come in and join me!" And for ten minutes we enjoyed ourselves as an uncle and nephew should, as if we had both forgotten the painful purpose of my visit.
Eventually he climbed out of the pool, saying it was time we got down to business. We dried ourselves on the same towel, and he flatteringly commented how good I looked without my clothes. He slapped my rear end and said, "There's no doubt what's your best feature - the perfect partner for my paddle!" I was aware of having an impressive erection - and my uncle even more so!
I rescued the punishment book from the pocket of my discarded shorts, and handed it over. He began to peruse it, and ordered me to go to the study and fetch the paddle. As soon as I saw it lying on the desk, I realised I was going to get more than I'd bargained for. It was made from a reddish hardwood, about a foot long including a stubby handle, four inches wide and, more to the point, about an inch thick. There were four holes drilled in a diamond pattern at its centre. When I picked it up amd felt its substantial weight, I don't mind omitting I was scared witless. All traces of erotic excitement had vanished as I trudged back unwillingly to the poolside to meet my fate.
. . . to be continued