Holidays in Woop Woop (2) by Tim Anders (Revised)
Copyright Tim Anders © 1998, 2001
NOTE FOR NON-AUSSIE READERS: Woop Woop is a tiny remote place in the Middle of Nowhere, almost beyond the Black Stump, somewhere between Bullamakanka and Oodnagalahbi. Got it, mate?
Based on events during the summer holidays in 1990/91, the year following "My Mate Dave".
Uncle Luke had warned me that we'd be having a 'painful but cleansing serious talk' later, leaving me in no doubt what kind of talk he had in mind. In the meantime, he said, I should go and 'enjoy myself'. Even my cousin Ian who'd only just been at the receiving end of the stick, thought that was a bit 'below the belt' - pun intended.
We went out and kicked a footy for a while, then Ian showed me the car he was working on, which raised him even higher in my esteem. I didn't know much about cars at all and was really impressed by boys my age who knew their engines almost as well as their dicks.
There was a makeshift tennis court out the back, and we had a bit of a hit there, carefully avoiding any mention of what was hanging over me, or what Ian had already behind him.
I was keen to show off my newly acquired swimming skills and needed lots of practice. So I asked Ian if any of the dams had water in them. "No," he said, "the summer's been too dry, there isn't much left in any of them. They're off-limits anyway - too dangerous."
"That hasn't stopped you in the past," I teased, remembering those rare occasions when he got belted for swimming in a dam and I was spared because I couldn't swim then.
"Look, I told ya, there's no bloody water in dams. Why do you want to know anyway? You're such a wimp about water, always keeping your distance in case someone pushes you in."
"That's exactly what happened," I said, "someone didlast summer," and I told him the story, including Dave's swimming lessons, but I left out what we did in the dunes.
"You're kidding," said Ian, "I'd have taught you ages ago, but you wouldn't go near the bloody water, let alone in it."
"Dave was terrific, school champion, real cool and patient, and a good mate. He fished me out in the first place, probably wanted to make sure he didn't have to do it again, so he taught me.- And," I added, sticking my neck out a bit, "he was very strict. If I stuffed around or didn't do as he told me, I was in for it."
"How d'you mean, strict? Did he bash ya?"
"Switched."
"What?"
"He hit my bum with a switch."
"You're kidding."
"Scout's honour."
"You call that a mate?" Ian still didn't quite believe me.
"One of the best, mate. I'm really grateful for what he did."
"What, thrash your arse?"
"No, teach me to swim. He didn't have much time, you know, but I can really do it now."
Ian looked a bit dubious about what I'd just told him, while I quietly congratulated myself on having steered our chat in a direction that interested me. At least I'd got him to talk about the subject. "I still don't understand how you can let a mate do that to you," he said.
"Better a mate than someone you hate," I quipped, "I mean if it has to be done, I'd rather someone I respect does it, wouldn't you?" That should get him going!
"What d'you mean 'has to be done'?" he said defensively.
"When I've earned it," I said.
"Says who?"
"I know when I've earned a hiding, don't you?"
He evaded that one. "So what do you do about it?"
"Dad used to do something about it. He used to say I had an itchy bum again. He was usually right."
"D'you still get itchy bums?"
"Why d'you think I've been sent up here to the penitentiary? Uncle Luke told Mum he'll do what Dad should have done ages ago."
"Well you've hit the jackpot, mate. He's in the right mood for it. I got the stick twice in one day today, that doesn't happen very often." Ian was beginning to open up.
"Yeah, I heard," I said. "I don't know what you got before, mate, but I heard a lot of whacks the second time. How many did you get?"
"I lost count. More than a dozen, I reckon. You mean you could hear it out in the dining room?"
"Mate, I heard not just the whacks. You were singing, the whole town must've heard you"
"_s_h_i_t_, mate, he was so furious, he made me take my jeans off and my briefs, and you heard what he said. He reckons it's bare bum from now on."
"Must have hurt like hell."
"You ever got it bare bum?"
"Yeah, that's how Dave did it with the switch."
"Your best mate? No _s_h_i_t_?"
"Fair dinkum."
"Then you know all about it, mate. Worst hiding I've ever had."
"What sort of stick is he using? I mean if I'm in line for it, I may as well know."
"We call it a cane, but isn't really. I'll show ya later. There's a whole lot of pussy willows down by the creek. That's where he cuts them. Except he says I'll be cutting them myself now."
"Last time I was here, we used to get the bloody strap most of the time," I said.
"He started with the cane soon after. Said I needed stronger medicine. Hasn't used the strap more than once or twice since. It's hanging in the shed for all to see. 'Just in case,' he says."
"How many d'you think I'll get?" I asked Ian.
"No idea, mate, he was pretty aggro after that phone call."
"Did Mum ring him?"
"Nah, he rang her. Wanted to find out if she'd heard from your dad. Some business or other."
"Did she ask him to invite me up here?"
"Look, mate, I really don't know. I think he asked how things were down there, and your mum must have just told him what a little bastard you've been."
"Hey watch it, mate!" I shouted, as I launched myself onto him, and we ended up on the ground again, with Ian pinning me down. I knew I always lost against him, but I enjoyed the struggle and the body contact.
Ian let go of me and we got up. "Dad was really browned off. 'I'll show that young larrikin,' he said - "
"Is that what he called me?"
"That's what he said."
I quite liked being called a larrikin, but I probably should have been ashamed.
We raided the drinks fridge in the laundry and went inside. As the screen door slammed, Uncle Luke called out "is that you Ian?
"Who the _f_u_c_k_ does he think it is, the bloody tooth fairy?" Ian muttered under his breath. "Yeah, it's us, dad."
"Young Tim with you?" The question was clearly rhetorical because it was immediately followed by "come in here, both of you."
In spite of my itchy bum, I suddenly panicked. The moment of reckoning was getting closer. "I think I need a piss," I said, "you go in, I'll be there in a tick."
"Cool, mate, I'll tell him." Was that a smirk on Ian's face? The bastard was looking forward to my comeuppance, and I thought we were mates! Still, in all fairness, I'd enjoyed him getting it, too. At least my little mate did.
I couldn't drag out my 'comfort stop' any longer, so I took a deep breath and wandered into the sitting room. Uncle and Auntie were in their usual arm chairs, Ian was slumped into another one, looking disgustingly relaxed, and I wasn't sure what to do.
"Hi," I said, trying to sound bright and cheery, "how was the program?" Diversion tactic.
"Fine," said Uncle, "it's a good series, that, isn't it?" The last bit was directed at Auntie who just nodded and looked like she was about to nod off altogether.
"Sit yourself down," he said to me, pointing to the couch, "needed a nervous pee, did you?" Now, there was a definite smirk on his face, and Ian's! - Auntie Alice had mercifully closed her eyes and was either asleep or pretended to be.
"Yeah," I said with an embarrassed grin. "That drink must have gone straight through me."
"Important to keep your fluid levels up in this heat," Uncle lectured.
"Yeah, I know."
"However, that's not what I want to talk to you about."
"Yeah, I know."
"Well, what DID I want to talk to you about, hm?" He was doing it again. First Ian, now me.
"Um - you know - er - what you said before - um -' I was getting quite inarticulate.
"Come on, son, tell us. Your mother says you have an awful lot to say for yourself at home."
"About that n' stuff." I looked over to Ian who kept a fairly straight face, but I knew he was enjoying this. no help was likely to come from him.
"Tim, you said you know what I want to talk about, so what was it?"
_s_h_i_t_! I'm digging my own hole here. "Um- about me being rude to Mum and not doing what I'm supposed to."
"We're getting closer. So tell me, why do you do it? Hasn't your mum got enough worries?"
"I guess so. I don't know why, Uncle Luke. She just gets on my nerves." _d_a_m_n_, I shouldn't have said that. I knew it the moment it was out.
"Oh, she does, does she? Well, let me tell you, my boy, your behaviour gets on a lot of people's nerves, including mine, and I have very effective ways of dealing with it. Isn't that right Ian?"
Ian sat up straight in his chair, "yes dad."
"How's your backside? Still feeling it?"
"Yeah, it's OK now."
"So, Tim, I'm afraid yours is going to be just as sore as Ian's was before."
"Yes, Uncle."
"If your father had been at home he would have dealt with this much sooner."
I looked down on my bare feet. "Yes, I'm sorry."
"Well, being sorry is a start at least. So what would your father do in my place. Any idea?"
"Give me a hiding." I mumbled.
"Speak up! - He'd punish you by giving you a hiding. Is that what you were saying?"
"Yes."
Auntie Alice was stirring in her seat but her eyes remained closed, which somehow made it all less embarrassing. I knew Ian's eyes were on me, but he kept a very low profile, just in case.
"So, when was the last time you got a hiding from your dad, Tim?"
"Er - can't remember."
"Well, think! I don't want an exact date."
"Um - well, just before he left."
"That was - what, nearly two years ago??" \
I nodded.
"That's a long time without discipline. I guess we should all be grateful you haven't gone completely feral." Another one of Uncle's feeble attempts at humour. He glanced at Ian, "I dread to think what our son would have been be like in such circumstances." Ian blushed and cast his eyes down, contemplating his feet.
I didn't know what to say to that. Fortunately he didn't expect a response but went on, "I gather your dad was pretty strict, was he?"
"I don't know, he was fair." That stopped him in his tracks for a moment. He looked a bit puzzled.
"Did you get punished a lot?"
"Only when I deserved it."
"Yes, obviously, but was it often?"
"Some weeks were worse than others."
"And then there were those famous bush trips you mentioned."
I raised my voice sharply, "that's only between Dad and me. He always said so!" I quickly added "sorry," when I realised that Ian was looking up and Auntie had opened her eyes.
"No need to shout," said Uncle Luke, "I'll respect your privacy. So, tell me, when he punished you at home, what did he do? Say, the last time he did it."
This was worse than getting a thrashing! "Look, can't you just give me a hiding like I've earned?" - I blurted out, "sorry, I don't mean to - "
He ignored my outburst. "Tim, the reason I'm asking these questions is, I intend to take my brother's place -"
'Oh God,' I thought, 'spare me that sanctimonious _s_h_i_t_, just get on with it.'
" - and punish you the way he would have done for the trouble you have caused your mother. As I told you, she tried to talk me out of it, but I made it a condition of your coming here. So, what did he do."
"He gave me a belting in the sitting room while Mum was out. She used to get upset," I grumbled.
"Listen, Tim, I want you tell me exactly what happened from the moment he told you he was going to punish you. What did he say, what did he punish you with, anything to give me a picture of what happened."
I was squirming in my seat, looking for help to Auntie who had closed her eyes again, Ian was no use anyway, he loved it! So I cleared my throat and said, "well, he used to say it's time, mate, you know what to do and get back here quick smart', something like that."
"This was in the sitting room?"
"Yes."
"So, what did you have to do, come on, don't make me drag it out of you."
"Well. I always got punished on my footy shorts, so I had to go to my room and put them on."
"What else were you wearing?"
"Nothing."
"I see. Go on. What happened next." He was not going to let up.
"I came back and said I was ready for my punishment, and then I had to bend over a chair or the table and Dad used to take his belt out of his jeans and give me a hiding with it." Phew, I was glad that was over.
"How many?" Obviously it wasn't over yet.
"What? - I mean, pardon?" I just remembered my manners (wouldn't hurt in a precarious situation like this).
"How many did you get?"
"I dunno, can't remember."
"Not necessarily on that particular occasion. How many did he give you on average when he tanned your backside? I mean was it five? Or ten? More?"
"That all depended on what I was getting it for. Could be as little as three or fifteen if it was real bad."
"And you never had to take your shorts off?"
"No way!"
"Well, I now want you to go and get yourself ready as you would for your Dad. The shorts you wore when you arrived will do. After that you and I will go over to the shed. Your punishment will be twenty - " I gasped but didn't say anything, "with the strap that you probably remember from your last visit here."
I got up from the couch. "Now?" I asked with a choked voice.
"No time like the present." I turned to go to the boys' room. "Oh, before you go, Tim, this is only catching up with the past. You heard what I said to Ian at dinner. It goes for you as well. Any future punishments will be with the cane on your bare behind, clear?"
"Yes, Uncle Luke. Can I wear my sneakers, if we're going outside?"
"Sure. Now, off you go and get ready."
I went down to the boys' room, stripped and came back wearing nothing but my footy shorts and sneakers. "I'm ready for my punishment," I said, feeling very embarrassed.
We went over to the big shed where Ian had earlier worked on his car. I had to bend over an old 44-gallon drum and listen to Uncle's sermon how I'd more than earned this and he hoped it'd teach me a lesson and I'd give Mum less trouble when I got home. In between chapter and verse he whacked that strap across my bum, and it hurt like hell.
I yelled out loud after the first one, I had almost forgotten how much it could hurt. After that I tried to control myself, knowing I could probably be heard in the house, but in the end I just let fly and howled and begged him to stop. I'd lost count and had no idea how many more to come, when he suddenly stopped.
He put his hand on my back and said "we'll talk no more about this, Tim. Just make sure I don't have to use the cane on you." With that he slapped my battered backside and walked off. No hug, no comforting, and that's when I really howled.
I picked myself up eventually, wondering how I'd face Auntie and Ian, but it wasn't too bad. I came back into the house. Auntie was in the kitchen, and as I walked in, still rubbing my bottom. She put her arms around me, "I still love you, Timmie," she said, "we all do," and I cried on her shoulder for a moment. "Get yourself some milk," she said.
"Thanks," I got the milk and joined them all in the sitting room, feeling quite naked in just my shorts.
Ian had shifted to the couch and I sat next to him. He put an arm around me "how ya feeling?"
That touched me, and I almost started crying again. Maybe he wasn't a bastard, after all. "Tell you later," I said.
Soon after, as we went to bed, we compared our backsides. Mine was very red all over, but there were no stripes as on Ian's, probably because I got it on my shorts. Ian's bum still had some clear stripes where the cane had landed. He also showed me the two 'cane' switches that resided on top of the bookcase. They were pretty fierce looking implements, quite thin, about 7 mm in diameter, ca. 75 cm long and very flexible.
In spite of my already pretty sore bum, I kept thinking I'd like to try them out. Finally I took heart and asked Ian if he would give me one stroke with each of the two canes, to give me an idea what they're like.
"You're a funny kid," he said. "Yeah, sure, I'll do it, but not now. They'll hear us. We'll do it tomorrow."
"O. K.," I said, "maybe we can go down to the creek where the pussy willows are."
"Good thinking," Ian said, "but I warn you, If you want to know what it's like, I'll give you two of the best."
I was so horny, I went to the bathroom to do the necessary, wishing we could go back to when Ian and I used to wank together. Lying in bed later, I relished the fact it was my hero Peter's bed and I fantasised about Ian whacking my bum tomorrow, which gave me another hard-on. Ian was already asleep, so I could deal with it without embarrassment.
The following day we got up very early. Ian had a number of jobs to do, feeding all the chooks, ducks and geese, cats and dogs, a goat, three horses, a couple of pigs, the list goes on. I went around with him and really enjoyed it all. Then the dairy truck arrived, and we had to help bring in the milk. Uncle Luke had gone off to the market in the nearest town to get fresh vegetables and fruit. There were lots of things going on in and around the shop. Customers posted and collected their mail, bought their supplies and had endless chats with Auntie Alice. Others rang their orders in for later delivery, and in no time the morning was gone.
After lunch we made deliveries to some outlying farms on our bikes. Ian's bike had a kind of tray on two wheels attached, like a trailer. It held quite a bit of stuff, but my bike only had a little pack rack. We managed to tie a crate onto that, and it worked OK.
I kept thinking about the promised trip to the pussy willows by the creek, my little mate going up and down like a yo-yo. But at the rate we were going, I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever get there. Ian said "don't worry, we'll do it after dinner, there'll be more time then. I can hardly wait." What did he mean by that? Should I be worried?
We did the washing up after dinner, a always. Auntie settled in the sitting room to watch TV or whatever, Uncle was still doing his books, and Ian said "I'll take Tim over to the old lagoon, see if there are any yabbies."
"Don't be late getting back, tomorrow's going to be a very busy day," said Uncle.
We took our bikes and were off.
I knew where the lagoon was, and I knew also that we had to cross the creek to get there, and suddenly I became a bit nervous. When we got to the creek, we got off our bikes and Ian said, "you sure you want to go through with this?"
I put on a brave face, "of course."
"Well, in that case you better prepare yourself, I'll cut a cane in the meantime."
I took my shorts off, and my briefs, and dropped them on the ground, standing there in just my T-shirt, which, for once, was long enough to cover my little mate if he had been dormant, except he was quite rigid and caused the most absurd looking protrusion, so I put my hands down my front to disguise it a bit.
Ian came back with a stick that looked very similar to the ones in his bedroom. "Allright," he said, "you want to know what it feels like. I'll show you. Take off that T-shirt." I took it off and was now naked except for my sneakers. Looking at the front of Ian's shorts, I could tell, he enjoyed this enormously. "I'm going to hit as hard as the real thing, and it's going to hurt like hell," he said, "but it's only a taste of what a proper caning is like, coz you'll get more."
I was getting a little nervous. "What if I get into trouble tomorrow and have to bare my bum? Won't he see the marks?"
"Probably. You trying to pike out or something?" Ian sounded just a little indignant.
"I'm not piking out, I just wondered what would happen," I meekly observed.
"We'd both be up _s_h_i_t_ creek," said Ian coldly, "and we'd get a few more stripes. OK?"
"OK."
"Bend over and grab your ankles."
I did that, and suddenly there was that awful whistle and a sharp cut over both my buttocks, as if a knife had been drawn across them. I yelled out loud, jumped up and rubbed my bum furiously. "God, that hurts, mate."
"I know," he said, "now, get back in position, you've got another one coming."
The second one was every bit as terrible as the first one, and so was my reaction.
"You wanna go on?" Ian enquired.
"No fear, mate, that'll do me."
"Cool, we can always come back tomorrow." It seemed he had 'tasted blood.'
"Hmm," I said lamely, sensing that we probably would be back sooner rather than later.
We inspected our backsides that night in the shower. Two very angry stripes across my bum cheeks were evident, but not much of the belting I'd got the night before. Even Ian's bottom had recovered greatly from the two canings the previous day. Those pink stripes I'd noticed a day earlier on his backside had faded to being barely noticeable.
The mutual inspection had caused my little mate to spring to attention and I noticed with delight that Ian's was also rising fast. I started stroking myself, hoping he'd join in, but he didn't. I got out, planning a good wank like the night before in bed, after he'd gone to sleep. Ian entered the bedroom splendidly naked, with his constant companion hanging almost limp. The head was already partly covered by the foreskin, but I could still see it was quite red, which meant he must have wanked after I'd gone. I was really pissed off about that but I enjoyed the view. I like the look of a limp dick almost better than a stiff one. It leaves more to the imagination, which I used later, wanking away and imagining getting Ian stiff.
"You want a hand with that?" Ian's voice suddenly asked in the darkness.
"What d'ya mean?" _d_a_m_n_! I thought he was asleep.
He was beside me in a flash. "I know what you're up to," I could feel his hand over mine. "Sure enough, you've been wanking, haven't you?"
"So?"
"Well, it's not very nice," he carried on in this sanctimonious tone, almost sounding like Uncle Luke, while he took over the stroking of my little mate. "Don't you know you'll go blind if you keep doing that?" he continued, and I giggled. "I think I'll have to punish you for playing with yourself, don't you?"
That was all I needed to send me over the edge. Fortunately I had the old wanking rag handy, so it didn't go all over the bedsheets. "Wh- what are you going to do," I asked after I had recovered sufficiently. Ian was still lying there next to me in Peter's bed.
"I think a caning down by the creek tomorrow evening would be appropriate. What d'you reckon?"
I was so excited by that prospect, my 'little mate', although still sensitive from the explosion a moment ago, was beginning to stiffen up again. "Y-you think so?" I stammered.
"I certainly do," said Ian, giving my dick a little squeeze, "and I think he does, too."
"I suppose so," I answered in a shaky voice, as I discovered Ian's tool was rigid. "How many?"
"I'd say five for starters," he said, letting go of my 'little mate' and concentrating on his own.
"What about yourself," I said, "you're wanking yourself, I think I'll have to punish you for that, too. Fair's fair."
"I guess so," said Ian, much to my surprise. I hadn't thought he'd be so willing.
"Well, that'll be five each," I said. "Who's going to be first?"
"Hey, not so fast," said Ian, taking my hand and putting it on his stiffie, as he started working on mine again. "You may get a lot more, depending on how you behave during the day."
This was getting really exciting. "How d'you mean?" I wanted to know, stroking him furiously.
"Slow it down, mate," he said, I'm enjoying this, I want to make it last. "Just do what I'm doing to you." So we lay there, stopping and starting, prolonging the pleasurable anticipation of things to come. I wanted to kiss him like Dave and I had kissed, but didn't have the courage.
I repeated my question, "what d'you mean I may get more?"
"Well it's a long day, you could get yourself into all sorts of strife."
"So could you," I challenged, getting into the spirit of things.
"I could," he said.
"What sort of strife are you talking about. I mean what am I going to be punished for, apart from wanking?"
"I'll think of something," said Ian, increasing the speed of his hand.
I followed suit. "So will I," and we both reached for the wanking rag at the same time, as we shuddered with lustful pleasure.
I would have liked him to stay with me, so I could cuddle up to him, but he went back to his own bed, leaving me to dream about the exciting day ahead of us tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. This was going to be fun, I couldn't wait for the morning.
Waking up in the morning wouldn't be nearly as much fun if it wasn't for my little mate who always stands to attention to greet me. My hand automatically goes down to him to say hello and make sure everything is as it should be. That morning was no different. I was happily playing with him, not really wanking, as Ian came back from his morning shower. I hadn't even realised he'd gone. He had the towel round his waist and looked awfully like my pin-up boy, his big brother Peter.
"Hey, you better get a move on, mate," he said, pulling my bedsheets off and revealing all my nakedness. We never wore anything in bed. "You're not playing with yourself again, are you?" he said in that funny voice.
"N-no-no," I protested, "just checking out he's o. k."
"That's allright then. But why aren't you up yet when I woke you about 15 minutes ago?"
"You didn't!"
"I did so. And you said you'd be out there in the shower straight away."
"You're making that up."
"You calling me a liar? I think I'll have to teach you a bit more respect." And he leaned down, turned me over (I didn't offer too much resistance) and gave me about half a dozen hearty smacks on my bare bum.
We both laughed hysterically, and Ian said. "I see you think that's funny. That'll be two more with the cane tonight." I had got up in the meantime, and he grabbed me and gave me a few more smacks with his hand. My 'little mate' thought it was Christmas, and I don't have to tell you what I did as soon a I hit the shower.
It was going to be an exciting day . . .
to be continued (Comments are welcome)