Holidays in Woop Woop (3) 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".
The day had only just started and I had already been handspanked by Ian and two more strokes of the cane had been added to the five he told me I was going to get for wanking the night before. To be fair, he didn't argue when I told him he'd also earned five for the same 'offence'. Things were looking up and so was my little mate much of the time, in anticipation.
We were very careful, not to step out of line during the day, did our jobs promptly without talking back, so Uncle Luke didn't get the idea our backsides needed to feel his cane. We had our own plans for that. Once we'd done the dishes after dinner and Uncle and Auntie were settled in front of the idiot box, we looked at each other and Ian said "let's go."
A few more "reasons" had cropped up during the day adding some extra cane strokes to our "accounts". Ian started it when he wrestled me to the ground, just before lunch, saying "loser gets three with the cane." I protested that wasn't fair, because he was older and stronger and I always lost. He said I'd just have to try harder to save my bum. I lost again, and so had three more added to my seven, while Ian was still on five.
I was really annoyed about the unfairness of that, but then I used a bit of cunning and said, "ok., let's make that a general rule for tennis and footy practice as well." I knew I could beat him at tennis most of the time, and we were pretty much equal in our ability to kick a football precisely to a prescribed point in the paddock, or marking one that came full blast at us. That's what we called footy practice, pretending we were some big ace in the League. Unfortunately, that first day, there was no opportunity to do either of those things, and I was beginning to wonder if our new "game" was such a good idea, after all.
Ian's list grew by three more, when he didn't shut a gate properly and I was quick enough to race back to shut it, before a whole mob of sheep got out. So I said he'd earned another three for that little effort, which was probably a lot less than Uncle would have given him if the sheep had got out. Ian said he would have asked for that himself if I hadn't got in first. It must have given him a real shock, as he kept saying how stupid he felt about it, and he'd never done that before in his life. Apart from the realisation he would have got a very sore bum from Uncle Luke, I think he was really embarrassed because he used to tease me as being a "city slicker" who couldn't hold a candle to a country boy like him.
So, by the time we got to the creek, Ian had earned eight and I ten strokes. Ian said I should be punished first, because I was younger. I went along with that because I've always tended to follow a good leader if he was strong and _s_e_x_y. Ian was both. He more and more replaced his big brother Peter who joined the navy, in my adoration. It wouldn't have made much difference if I had protested anyway. He was bigger and stronger. I'd been looking forward to this all day but, as often happens, now that the moment of truth was approaching, I wasn't so sure any more. My little mate had been up in arms every time I thought about getting the cane from Ian, but my backside said 'are you serious about this?' I knew I had to go through with it, if only to show I wasn't a wimp but tough and fearless. And there was, of course, also the not unpleasant prospect of giving Ian his just deserts on his bare bum afterwards. Ian started stripping off and I followed suit, and in no time we were both buck naked and our little mates were well and truly at attention.
Ian found the cane he had used on me for those first two, the day before. He told me to bend over and grab my ankles like last time. But then he kept readjusting my position, first I had to spread my legs wider, then he told me to put my hands on my knees and raise my head and look straight ahead. I didn't know what that was all about, but he said later he wanted to have my backside presented in the best position. Needless to say, I made him do exactly the same when we reversed the rôles.
And then the cane whistled and before I fully registered the noise, it cut into my backside with incredible speed and the impact brought forth an almighty yell, "_s_h_i_t_, mate, I can't take ten of those." But I stayed in position.
Ian came closer and inspected the damage. I could feel his finger travelling over the stripe that he had just created. "Mhm, that looks a bit angry, mate," he said, "stand up and rub it." I did, and I could feel a big welt rising from both my cheeks, and it felt very sore.
"You're right, ten like that would be murder," Ian said, "you wanna pike out?"
I was very tempted to say "yes, please," but there was a bit of a sneer in his voice and I didn't want to look weak in his eyes. So, I acted very brave and said, "no way, mate."
"I guess, we'll have to modify the punishment," he said, "bend down again." The next stroke hit my sore bum with less force but it still was a stinger, and I jumped. Ian gave it another inspection and I gave it a good rub. I could tell, the latest welt was nowhere near as bad as the first one. "Tell you what," Ian said, "I'll give you three more and then you can give me my eight, and after that we'll see about your other five."
That sounded reasonable. I agreed and bent over again for the next three, each of which made me yell, but I stayed down and didn't move until it was over.
Ian seemed really worried about the damage to my 'poor little bottom', which I found quite a turn-on. He assured me no skin was broken, but I wasn't too worried about that. I was more concerned he mightn't want to continue this great new game. So, I played it as cool as I could.
It was now Ian's turn to bend over, and he said he wanted at least three as hard as I possibly could because they were punishment for the gate and not really part of our game. And then, being the tough macho man, he said I ought to make the rest just as hard. I said I'd go along with the first three, but there was no way I was going to blister his bum so we can't play the game any more. He argued, but for once I asserted my position and told him I was in charge now and I make the decisions, just as he does when he holds the cane.
"You better get into the same position you had me in," I said, and Ian bent down, hands on his knees, head up, looking straight forward, without a murmur. I let the cane fly as hard as I could and hit his bum with an almighty crack.
"_s_h_i_t_, mate, that hurts," he hissed through his teeth, followed by several, "_s_h_i_t_s!" and "_f_u_c_k_s!" as I delivered the next one and the third, but he stayed in position.
I told him to straighten up and inspected his cute buns in great detail. I noticed his little mate had dived into the air raid shelter. My own, having subsided during my own caning, rose to full alert as my hands travelled over his delicious bare cheeks. There were three double lines raised across his bum, but none of them as fat as the first one he'd given me.
"OK, mate, get back in position, you're fit enough to take the rest of your punishment," I decreed, and Ian complied without a word. I was on a real power trip, and my little mate was just about beside himself, completely forgetting what was still in store for my own backside. I reduced the power of the remaining five a bit, as Ian had done for me before, but from his yelps I could tell he still found them painful enough. He was really docile and even waited till I told him to stand up, although he knew his punishment was finished after eight strokes.
Ian's eyes were very moist and I felt sorry for him. I just put my arms around him and patted his sore behind, and he did the same for me. It was a wonderful moment with our little mates saying hello to each other down below. I think that must have spooked him because he disengaged himself somewhat suddenly, much to my regret. I said I'd go and sit in the creek like I used to on the bush trips with Dad, and we both ended up sitting in it.
"So, what are we going to do about your remaining five?" he wanted to know.
"Why d'you ask?"
"Well, do you want to put it off till tomorrow?"
"No way, mate. You've taken yours, I'll take mine.
"Let's have another look, mate." I lay flat on the ground and he inspected my sore bum. His fingers travelling all over my two globes, even the tingle as he pressed on the three stripes, felt extremely _s_e_x_y. "OK, mate. Back in the old position, come on!" That was Ian's 'sergeant' voice again and I quickly did as I was told, to receive the remaining five strokes I had earned that day. They came in quick succession at reduced force, and I had hardly time to take a breath between them. But my bum was on fire again.
I had tears in my eyes as I stood up. Ian gave me a big hug and patted my behind. Our not so little mates touched and he didn't seem to notice. "You're a crazy kid," he said, "but you got guts." I felt so very close to him, I wanted to kiss him, but I was too afraid he'd freak out. So, I just clung to him. Finally he said, "let's go and sit in the creek again, eh?" and we did.
After a while we got out, sat on the grass and talked about what had happened and that we needed to re-think our new game if it was to be fun. Ian declared we should have a break for a day or two, and when our bums recovered, we'd be less vigorous in applying the cane, forceful enough for it to sting, but not as brutal as what we had just done to each other. Also, each "demerit" would be worth one stroke only, instead of the multiples we had "awarded" each other. So, if he floored me wrestling that meant one stroke, the same if I beat him at tennis, and so on. I thought at first, Ian was wimping out, but he was being sensible, and it really became much more fun after that.
While we were sitting there, talking, each happily comforting our not-so-little mates, I said to Ian, "I reckon wanking should be taken off the list of offences." He made some rude remark about me being so randy I'd end up with half a dozen strokes a day just for that, which was quite an overstatement. I'll admit, my hands were often busy down there, but I think four full wanks in one day was about the most I ever did. Still, he agreed, much to my surprise.
Instead, he invented a new game. We'd always wank together, and the contest was who would last longest. So, whoever came first got a demerit point worth one stroke of the cane. Later on I suggested we should wank each other and then see who lasts longest. My main motive was I wanted to get hold of Ian's dick without him getting suspicious. I don't know if he enjoyed it as much as I did, but he went along with it. It is, of course, much harder to control what's happening if someone else is doing the wanking.
Ian being a left-hander made it even possible for us to sit beside each other while we were doing it. This proved to be very handy on a couple of occasions when Uncle and Auntie had gone out for the evening and we were watching TV while playing with each other's little mate at the same time. Interestingly, we both lasted a lot longer than usual on those occasions, maybe because our minds were occupied with the TV show (whatever it was) and the stroking was more a comfort thing than trying to get our rocks off.
We did let our backsides recover for a day, and then started counting demerits again. I don't remember the exact scores, but usually I ended up with about half a dozen or so each night. Ian frequently got less, but I didn't mind that so much, although I knew he manoeuvred me into situations where I had to lose. Wrestling matches, which I always lost, were much more frequent than games of tennis. But I beat him every time we did play tennis.
Even with the wanking, he seemed to have a knack of getting me off much faster than I could manage with him. Maybe he had more self-control, or it was because he had no 'gay' feelings for me as I did for him. The fact alone that I felt his hand wanking my little mate, and I was wanking his, was such a turn-on, it didn't need a lot of action on his part to make me shoot. So, I very often came first, with the inevitable stroke of the cane added to my list, as a result.
It was a bit easier when we each did our own wanking. At least I had some control, but I still had trouble hanging on longer than Ian. Just the sight of that _s_e_x_y bastard sitting or standing there, manipulating his little mate was enough to send me well on the way. I was becoming quite besotted with Ian and had some wonderful dreams about him. My only disappointment was that Ian didn't reciprocate my feelings for him. He was quite fond of me, like big brothers sometimes are when little brothers hero-worship them and generally do as they're told. So, whenever Ian dreamt up a new game or a new twist to an old one, I'd be in it, not just to please him, but because 'it must be good, coming from him.'
We both enjoyed roughhousing, which often ended with Ian pulling my pants down and putting me over his knee for a bare bottomed spanking. It was never really hard but just enough to turn me on, and I loved it. Sometimes in the middle of a delivery run, he'd turn to me and say "follow me". Of course he knew all the little bush tracks and where they led to, if anywhere. I usually knew what that meant, and my little mate took an extra jump with joyful anticipation.
Having stopped and parked our bikes in a convenient spot, Ian would make up some misdeed I had supposedly committed. "I saw what you did on that bike before, mate, and don't try and wriggle out of it." Or, "I can tell you've been having naughty thoughts again, son, don't deny it." Things like that. I would then of course deny everything, and he'd grab me and we'd be rolling around on the ground. It was like wrestling matches, but without the rules and with my pants down and a spanked bottom at the end, and a lot of fun.
Auntie sometimes asked why we looked so dirty when we came back from a delivery, and we always had an explanation, like some idiot driver had covered us in dust or forced us off the gravel road. Sometimes Ian sailed very close to the wind and told her "I had to beat him up, he wouldn't listen to me."
She always laughed about remarks like that, "oh Ian, really!" - dear old auntie, I wonder how much she really knew, because she wasn't silly.
Ian had a very fertile imagination when it came to dreaming up new twists, traps and 'tortures'. He caught me playing with my little mate one morning in bed. That was a definite No-No, ever since we started our wanking competition, a corollary of which was 'no playing with little mates on your own, ever.'
"What do you think you're doing, mate?" he said, as he jumped on me, pinning my hand down where it was.
"I-I'm just checking," was my feeble excuse.
He pulled the bed sheet away, rolled me over and gave my bare buns several hard slaps. "That's for lying," he said, "and you've got your first demerit for today."
"_s_h_i_t_, mate, I'm not even out of bed yet!"
"Well, you better watch out then, mate. Looks like you're having a bad day. Get your arse out in the shower and I'll teach you." I wasn't sure what he meant by that. I mean, what's there to teach? I got up and hurried for the shower, just in case. Before we turned the water on, we had our mutual competitive wank, which I lost by a mile because I was so turned-on before we even started. "That's your second demerit," Ian gloated, and he kept wanking my little mate.
I don't have to tell any uncircumcised reader what that does for, or rather to, a guy who has just shot his load. I really don't know if it's the same if you're circumcised. If it isn't, just believe me. It bloody hurts! I tried to push him away but he kept grabbing hold of my little mate again and again, and - lo and behold! - the little bastard rose to the occasion, don't ask me why or how, because it was agony. - At least at first.
"Right," Ian said, "as a special task for your breach of our rules," and he roughly pulled my foreskin back as far as it would go, "you'll keep the head uncovered all day today."
"What?!? I can't do that! I'll go crazy!"
"No, you won't. I've done it, and I'm not crazy."
"Says who?"
"That's your third demerit.
"Eh, hang on!"
"And I'll check up on you. If I find you're not skinned back, it'll be a demerit every time."
"_s_h_i_t_, mate, you can't do that! It's not fair."
"You broke the rules, mate."
I tried to reason with him. "You know what it feels like just to touch the bloody thing."
"Very nice and _s_e_x_y."
"Yeah in the right situation. But rubbing inside my pants! _f_u_c_k_, I'd be running around with a hard-on all day."
Ian gave me a dirty grin, "so what's different?" A nasty reference to that little problem, well known to teenage boys. It just wasn't fair, specially as he wasn't much better.
"Well, I'm just not going to do it," was my final statement, or so I thought.
"OK, then, let's call the whole thing off!"
That really hit me between the eyes. No more roughhousing and bare bottom spankings? No more trips to the pussy willows by the creek? No more mutual wanks with my hero? Ian was bluffing, of course. He enjoyed "the whole thing" as much as I did. But he knew full well I'd fall for it - and I did, hook line and sinker.
"Well - I'll try, but I don't know if I can stand it all day, mate."
"Tell you what," said Ian in a conciliatory gesture, "you keep him uncovered, and if by the third check I make he's still skinned back, I'll join you."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll keep mine skinned back, too, and you can check as often as you like."
"Big deal!"
"If you find it's not bare as it should be, I get a demerit every time, like you."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you doing this? You trying to trick me into something?" I couldn't understand why he'd volunteer to do something so uncomfortable.
"Just to prove it can be done, and it's not as awful as you think."
"Ha!"
"Well, I can't offer much more than joining you."
"You could join me from the start."
"You're forgetting this is a punishment for breaching our rules."
And so I did as I was told, once again. It was bloody uncomfortable at first, but Ian was right, I did get used to it, and I slipped up (pun intended) only twice during the whole day, earning only two extra strokes. Ian earned more in the afternoon alone, I think it was three or four. I'm still not quite sure whether he contrived that to happen, so his backside didn't miss out on a caning in the evening.
We both enjoyed the challenge, and what had started as a punishment for my breaking the rules, ended up as a highly successful peppering up and soon became an integral part of our daily routine. I loved it because it gave me a 'legitimate' reason to check up on Ian's little mate many times during the day, and his inspections of mine were equally pleasurable. As time went on, our spanking exploits became so much routine that on a number of occasions, we nearly blurted out something at the dinner table, which would have sent Auntie and Uncle into a spin. Luckily we realised in time, and bit our tongue at the last moment.
There's only one other incident to report from that holiday. It relates to Geoff who nearly gave me a belting at the station the day I arrived. If you've read part 1 of this story, you'll know what I'm talking about. He said he wanted to tan my backside because I 'deserved to be punished for having such a provocative arse.' That whole conversation was such a turn-on that I was almost sorry he didn't carry out his threat.
He must have read me completely, because he also said to let him know if I ever needed a hiding and Uncle Luke wasn't available. "Maybe you can mess up one of my deliveries and give me a good reason," was his suggestion. He and Uncle Luke knew each other, and I saw Geoff several times around the shop and the yard, and we casually waved at each other. This whole delivery service ran only during school holidays and seemed designed to keep Ian and myself busy and out of mischief. It wasn't really essential, because the rest of the year Ian was at boarding school, and people just had to come in and get what they needed.
Ian and I sometimes delivered things to Geoff, mostly stuff that he rang in for, because he didn't have the time or inclination to come and pick it up himself. Geoff kept giving me those raised-eyebrow looks that said 'how about it?' I was itching to find out if he was going to repeat his 'offer', the memory of which still turned me on, but I didn't want Ian to notice and ask awkward questions. So, I often waited at the gate, while Ian rode his bike down the driveway to the house. As the end of the holidays came nearer, my bum got itchier and itchier for that belt, in spite of all the attention it got from Ian.
Geoff was known as a "star gazer" in the district. He once showed us his impressive telescope, which must have been really something to check out the night sky with. One day we had a parcel that had come in the mail for Geoff, and I told Ian I wanted to take it in because I wanted to ask him something about astronomy. I was genuinely interested in the subject and, from something Ian said after we'd seen the telescope, I knew he wasn't. So I felt fairly safe when I suggested Ian should ride on home because it could take a while.
I took the parcel up to the house. The door was open, so I called and Geoff yelled back to come in. As I entered, he emerged from down the hallway, dressed in a pair of jeans and a singlet. "What happened to young Ian?" he asked. I told him.
"Well, I just came in to get a cuppa, you want one too?" he asked, but I said I'd rather have a cool drink. "Help yourself," he said, pointing to the fridge. "I still got things to do out in the shed, but if you don't take too long, shoot. What do you want to know?"
I had prepared a few questions for this moment, so I asked him about eclipses of the sun and the moon and what was summer and winter solstice, and was my grandpa right when he claimed the northern sky didn't have as many stars as ours. I was, of course waiting for some sign from him, but he seemed very keen to answer all my questions and not much else, and I thought 'well, so much for my itching bum. I can't very well ask him to take his belt to it.' Even my little mate was losing interest.
Then, as I was about to start extricating myself, Geoff walked past behind me and patted my backside. "How's that provocative arse of yours?"
"Fine," I replied, and my little mate was on his way up again.
"Has Lukey been taking good care of it lately?"
"Depends on what you mean by lately. I got a hiding just after I arrived, as you predicted."
"And since?"
"Nothing since. I've been a good boy."
"Is that why you're here?"
"What do you mean?" My little mate was getting really excited now.
"To see if I keep my promise to give you a hiding if you need it."
"What if I am?"
"The answer is no."
"Why?"
"Plenty of reasons."
I dropped the glass I was holding and it shattered on the tiled floor. "Oh dear, I'm dreadfully sorry," I said with a grin.
"OK, mate, if that's what you want, come along," and he took me by the neck, steered me into the sitting room and bent me over the leather arm chair. I could hear him pulling his belt out of his jeans and then he laid into my backside, about ten times. I was wearing my footy shorts and briefs underneath, but I felt the belt as if it was on my naked skin.
"OK, get up," he said in a very strange tone of voice, "you'll clean up the mess now, and then go and don't come back." And with that he stormed out of the house.
I cleaned up and went outside, feeling awfully guilty. For some reason I had the distinct feeling I'd intruded where I shouldn't have. I wanted to apologise and found Geoff in the shed where he was furiously filing away at some piece of metal. I walked up to him and said "I'm sorry, Geoff, I didn't mean to - "
He dropped the file and put his arms around me, "I know, mate, I know. Just don't do it again." And with that he turned me around, slapped my backside and said, "off you go! I mean it!"
I got on my bike and rode back. It was very difficult to appear cheerful when I felt like crying but I couldn't tell anybody what happened. I knew I'd done something wrong without understanding what and why. But I can guess now what went on in Geoff's mind and I'm sorry to have been the cause of it.
By the time dinner was over, I had sufficiently regained my composure to enjoy our usual tricks down by the creek, and by the next morning the whole episode had become history. We started the day with our customary wank and distributed demerits for later 'conversion' down by the creek.
I had a wonderful time in Woop Woop that summer, especially if you consider I was sent there to be 'pulled into line.' Ironically, we were so careful not to step out of line, so as not to give Uncle Luke any reason to make us drop our pants, that both he and Auntie said at the end of my visit what a good influence I had been on Ian. We didn't disillusion them.
Comments are welcome . . .