(Usual disclaimers apply).
I was that rare breed - a 14-year-old schoolboy of the 1950s who had escaped corporal punishment. The cane was intended as a deterrent and, in my case, it worked. In changing rooms, the other lads proudly showed off their taut, firm buttocks, wearing their stripes like badges of honour. I shivered with fear and vowed never to be beaten like they had.
I trudged home after school. My mother made her usual fuss when I walked in the door. Dad had been killed in the battle for Crete and I was all she had to remind her of him.
"Son", she said, "Your Uncle Danny is coming to stay for a few days". She sounded excited, almost girlish. I noticed she was wearing fresh lipstick.
"So"? I queried, not bothering to look up from my homework.
"Well, he IS I mean WAS your father's only brother. It'll only be for a few days. Danny will be nice company for .. you".
"You mean .."
"Can't have him sleeping in the bath, can we?" Mum looked at me. "Not when there's a double bed in your room".
So that was it! I was going to have to give up half my bed for some stranger I'd never met.
"Now be a good boy and don't make a fuss".
"Yes, Mum".
An hour later we stood together on the platform at the railway station. The steam engine arrived with a hiss and a roar. I stood well back, scared of the noise. A few people got out of the carriages.
"Danny!" Mum shouted.
A tall, well-built man, not yet 30, came over to us.
"Maisie?"
Mum nodded, her eyes sparking. My uncle threw his arms around Mum and gave her a big sloppy kiss. Grown-ups!
"And this must be Alexander?" Uncle Danny turned his attentions to me. I held out my hand and he held it in a vise-like grip. We shook hands like gentlemen.
I had never seen Mum so excited. She simpered over Uncle Danny all the way home. I guess my nose was out of joint because I was usually the centre of Mum's attention. That night, when I announced that I was going to bed Mum just said: "That's nice, dear".
Uncle Danny looked at me through his smouldering blue eyes. "Yes, son. Get the bed nice and warm. I'll be there in a minute". Mum giggled.
I took myself off to the bedroom and got undressed. I pulled on my cotton pyjamas and slid into bed. My uncle didn't wake me coming to bed which was considerate of him.
The next morning I woke with a start. Uncle Danny, propped up on one elbow, was looking at me.
"Good morning, son".
"M-morning", I stammered, still half asleep.
"Something smells good".
I was aware of the smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen.
"Yes. We'd better get up".
My uncle got out of bed and stretched. All he had on was a pair of underpants. He casually slipped them off and started looking in his suitcase. I looked at his hairy, masculine buttocks. He half turned and I saw his slack, uncut penis with its big bush of curly pubic hair. I gulped.
"What's the matter, son?"
"Nothing".
"Not used to seeing your uncle parading around the bedroom in the nuddy?"
I mumbled something.
"Well, shake a leg. Your breakfast will be getting cold".
So, I crawled out of bed and quickly got out of my pyjamas and into my day clothes. He finished dressing and we went to breakfast.
It was a Saturday. Now I have to be honest and admit that all weekend I behaved like a spoilt little brat. I was jealous of the attention my mother was giving Uncle Danny. Things came to a head when I threw a tantrum over setting the table for dinner which we had at midday on Sunday. Mum burst into tears and rushed from the room.
"What did you do that for?" my uncle said, angrily.
Eventually, Mum came back into the kitchen. She still looked upset. My uncle had set the table.
"If my brother or I had pulled a stunt like that when we were Alexander's age, we'd have had trouble sitting down for a week". He glared at me. "Now, apologise to your mother".
Mutinously I shook my head.
"That boy needs a good hiding".
We sat down and Mum put the hot food on the table.
"I think you're right", Mum said, sadly. "It is difficult bringing a boy up on your own. Teach him right from wrong. Difficult". She sniffed.
"There's nothing 'difficult' about giving a boy a sore backside - one he'd not forget in a while".
I helped myself to a big helping of casserole.
"Guests, first", Mum said reproachfully. I ignored her.
"Danny, I'd be grateful if you'd p-punish Alexander", Mum said.
Traitor! Suddenly, I wasn't hungry any more.
In the early afternoon my uncle decided he wanted to walk off the effects of the dinner and asked me to accompany him. I obeyed with a bad grace. As we walked along the familiar street he told me something of himself. He was very knowledgeable about everyday things and encouraged me to talk about them. I felt my resentment disappear only to be replaced by a hot flush of shame at the trouble I had caused.
"Is that your school?" he asked.
"Yes", I replied.
He spotted a caretaker working in the grounds and called out to him. The drains were blocked and the caretaker was hot and bothered.
"I'm a drain-layer", my uncle shouted. "Might be able to help".
We walked through the gates and went over to the caretaker. My uncle removed his jacket and got to work. He certainly knew a thing or two about drains and soon had them unblocked. The caretaker was most grateful.
"Think nothing of it", Uncle Danny told him. "You might be able to do me a favour in return. I have promised my nephew a beating and the school seems to be the perfect place for it." He tapped his nose. "No women".
The caretaker chuckled his understanding. "Very true. Women don't understand about boys and what needs to be done to their backsides. I'll let you in the front door. Close it behind you when you leave".
I followed my uncle into the school and he took me into a classroom. My stomach turned to ice when I saw him lift a cane off the blackboard ledge and flick it through the air.
"Shorts and underpants down, son. Then bend over a desk".
I obeyed him. When I was in position, Uncle Danny pushed my shirt-tails clear, exposing my small buttocks.
"This is the penalty for being abominably rude to your mother", he said softly. "When it is done the slate will be wiped clean".
There was a rush of air and the stick whacked meatily into my quivering mounds. I shuddered and yelled as a burning brand was imprinted into my rump. Just as the hurt was reaching its peak the next stroke landed. I yelled again and tears flooded my face.
Time had no meaning. All I could think about was the fierce hurt my uncle was deliberately inflicting on my bare bottom. I yelled after each hard cut. The beating seemed to last forever but probably took less than a minute to execute.
"That's it, son", said my uncle. "Now you've got six fat sausages on your bum. Don't upset your mother again".
Slowly I stood upright and got dressed.
My bottom was in flames as we let ourselves out of the school buildings and returned home. I apologised to my mother and made a point of being nice to Uncle Danny. The tension and upset I had caused, vanished.
I slept on my tummy that night.
The next day at school, while we were changing for P. T., I showed off the six fat sausages on my bottom. The other boys were mightily impressed and I felt like I had been accepted into an exclusive club.
My uncle soon found work with a plumbing firm in our town. He courted Mum and they eventually married. So, I gained a step-father who was not afraid to thrash my backside whenever I deserved it. Oh, and I got to sleep on my own again.