I was in my study when I heard a crash.
It was a large pane of glass in the conservatory window. Inside the conservatory, there was a football. Outside it, stood a boy I had never seen before, frozen, like a still life.
He was 13. Black, straight glossy hair. Black, long cords. Black sports shoes. Black open-neck shirt. White T-vest showing beneath - and white socks. A gold necklet. A gold bracelet. Brown eyes. Smooth brown skin. Medium height for his age. Shapely.
"You'll have to pay for this," I said.
He nodded, dumbly.
"Where do you live?"
"Next door. With grandad."
I understood now. Bob had lived next door for a long time. Recently he had agreed to take on his grandson, a bundle of trouble, for a month. Steven's parents were away abroad.
"I think we'd better go see grandad," I said, picking up the ball.
Steven just looked stunned. He followed me obediently to Bob's front door.
I explained to Bob what had happened, handing him the ball.
"I think you'd better come in, David," Bob said grimly.
Bob led myself and Steven into his front parlour.
It was a winter's day - a log fire was burning in the cast iron stove. Bob turned on the lights and, to my surprise, drew the curtains, gesturing me to an armchair and seating himself, leaving the boy standing.
"I warned you, Steven," he said quietly. "What did I warn you?"
"Not to play with the football," Steven said miserably.
"Yes - and what did I say I would do if you did?"
"Spank me." Steven almost mumbled it.
"I think I said a little more than that. How did I say I would spank you?"
Steven was silent and hung his head.
"How Steven? Answer me."
"You said you'd take my clothes off and spank me." Steven almost whispered it.
"You're right Steven. I said I'd take off ALL your clothes and spank your bottom, hard," Bob said. "Isn't that exactly what I said?"
"Yes grandad, but grandad...?"
"Yes?"
"If I promise to be good, can't you..."
"No Steven. I will do what I promised you I would do - go over what I promised, getting it all right this time. Go on."
"You promised you would take off all my clothes..." Steven halted uncertainly.
"And spank you hard on your bare bottom."
"And spank me hard on my bare bottom."
"That's correct. And you know I have your mum and dad's agreement? You remember they signed?" Bob reached to a small table and showed me a typed consent slip. It read, 'We Steven's parents agree that his grandad may spank Steven, with or without clothes, on the bottom, with his hand or any other implement, as much as he needs, as often as he needs." It had been a document signed in desperation by parents who had lost the battle to avoid corporal punishment, but could not bring themselves to do the deed. Steven had never been spanked in his life before, not clothed, not bare bottom, not naked. Never.
"So I am going to undress you and spank you, in front of David."
"In front of...? But....! " Steven looked completely horrified. Bob gave me a wicked wink. He and I had talked before about how we thought naughty boys should be dealt with, but I had never dreamt that we would end up initiating his grandson, even though we had talked about the boy.
"How do you think we should begin, David?" Bob asked.
"I think Steven should take off his shoes," I said.
"Good idea," Bob agreed. "Take off your shoes, Steven."
Dumbstruck, seemingly, Steven unlaced his sports shoes and kicked them off.
"I think we should have a first look at our target," Bob said, getting to his feet. He led Steven to a dining table in the window bay, had him spread his stockinged feet and lean across it, arms wide, holding the other side of the table. "Join me," Bob said.
I joined him behind Steven's bottom, which was muscular and well rounded. Bob put his hand on the tight seat of Steven's cords, fingers pointing downwards, middle finger on the line of the seam. Steven flinched nervously as Bob slid the finger up and down the seam. "This will be good for spanking," he said, sliding his hand down to the top of the back of Steven's right thigh. "Look," he said, "his trousers are so tight you can even see the line of back of his briefs."
"What kind of briefs is he wearing?" I asked.
"White Y-fronts," Bob said, absently patting the boy's buttocks. "Hmm. Let's resume our seats, David. Come back where you were, Steven."
We sat down again and Steven stood before us, looking flushed and hot.
"He looks hot," Bob said.
"Too many clothes," I said.
"True enough," Bob said. "What shall we take off?"
"His shirt?" I hazarded.
"Excellent," Bob said. "Take your shirt out of your trousers, Steven."
Nervously fumbling in his fearful haste, Steven pulled his shirt from his trousers.
"Now go to David and kneel down, hands by your sides."
He did so. Close up, I could smell the sweetness of his sweat. I sat forward and started to unbutton his shirt, from the top downwards. When it was unbuttoned, I spead it wide and eased it off his shoulders. He wore a white cotton vest. The shirt dropped to the floor.
"Come here and stand before me," Bob said.
Steven got to his feet and stood before his uncle. Bob placed his hand around the boy's trouser belt and pulled him closer, between his thighs. "I expect you would rather I didn't take your trousers off, Steven?" he asked.
Steven nodded, just for a moment hopeful.
"But I must do," Bob said, undoing the belt buckle.
Steven's head dropped. Bob undid his top button and fly, then pulled his cords smoothly to his shins. "Sit across my knees," Bob said, bringing his knees together.
Steven shuffled until he sat across his uncle's lap, Bob's arm around him. "Now take the trousers right off," he commanded.
Steven sat forward and heaved his cords off his ankles.
From a study in black, Steven was now a study in white. Short white cotton socks. White Y-fronts. White cotton vest tucked into his white underpants. Gold bracelet and necklet. Sitting across grandad's lap.
"You know, Steven," Bob said, stroking the boy's back over his vest and letting the other hand stroke the boy's inner thigh, "You don't need to be this naughty, do you?"
"No grandad," Steven said, shifting a little uneasily on his grandad's lap.
"I do believe..." Bob said, "Well good gracious! You're willy's going all hard, Steven."
Steven turned his face away from me and buried it in his grandad's chest. There was indeed a rising dick sliding up the inside of his Y-fronts.
"We all go hard," Bob continued, still stroking the boy's inner thigh, "Even your old grandad sometimes. Let's make you more comfortable. Lift your bum."
Steven lifted his hips, his grandad grasped his Y-fronts between his legs and tugged vigorously, until they were just above his knees, before letting him sit again.
Steven was looking away from me in his embarrassment once more. His penis was nearly five inches, hairless, circcumcised, sitting straight up, completely hard.
"Up you get," Bob said easing the boy to his feet and tugging the underpants to his ankles. "Step out of them."
Steven's penis stuck outwards and upwards just beneath the rim of his white vest, as he stepped out of his briefs. Bob stood and moved a large settee forward until it was nearer the fireside. "Let's have this vest off" he said, pulling the vest over the boy's head, leaving him naked except for his ankle socks.
"Climb up here", Bob said.
The back of the settee was covered in soft velour and was quite wide. He had the boy sit astride it towards one end, then lean right forward, holding on to the end of it. Lifting him briefly at the waist, he inserted a large thick cushion under his genitals, which had the effect of widening his thighs still further and lifting his bottom up above the rest of him.
"Join me," Bob said.
We stood at the back of the settee and surveyed Bob's handiwork. The boy's beautifully muscular and curvaceous bottom stared up at us, his buttocks parted wide, fully revealing not only their inner surfaces but also his small, tight, reddish brown anus, contracting and expanding from time to time.
"I think a wooden spoon", Bob said, his hand on the small of Steven's back. "I've been keeping one in the bureau drawer over there. Could you get it, David?"
I collected a large, smooth, flat wooden spoon from the bureau.
"Good," Bob said, placing the spoon side on between Steven's buttocks and moving to his feet, where he removed the boy's socks. He returned to the spoon and removed it from the boy's cleft, holding it flat on his right bum cheek, pressing it down a little. "Now, Steven, you are going to discover how a spanking feels." He lifted the spoon and brought it down with a satisfying thwack on the top of Steven's right butt cheek. Steven yelped. A slight redness was apparent.
Bob passed the spoon to me and invited me to spank the other buttock. I brought it down hard with an equally pleasing effect.
Bob took back the spoon and started to smack quite regularly, in a pattern, across Steven's buttocks. He was not spanking as hard as at first, just enough to sting each time and build up the heat in Steven's bottom very gradually but also inexorably.
At first, Steven did not yell out, but before long he begin to shift his hips and buttocks as if in discomfort and then to moan, and to writhe and yell and complain, his feet kicking up and down helplessly. By now his bottom was bright red and clearly very sore.
Bob stopped and helped him down, his penis quite soft now. He stood the boy facing the corner for fifteen minutes before letting him put on vest and socks. Then he sent him to make us coffee.