(Usual disclaimers apply)
I felt a firm hand push my shirt up. A cool breeze caressed my naked bottom. My big, masculine uncle unlooped his thick leather belt and doubled it with a snap! He surveyed his 'target'.
"Close your legs. I don't need to see THAT thing blinking at me", he grumbled.
I shuffled my feet until the cheeks of my bottom concealed the pulsating round eye that was my anal dot. Fortunately, the shirt-tail at the front covered my erection.
"That's better" he said.
The belt leathered my defenceless buttocks. It did not hurt. Instead, a warm glowing sensation enveloped the nether regions until my swollen member erupted ...
The wet dream woke me up. Daylight flooded the small bedroom. I cleaned myself as best I could and pondered the reason why that particular recurring fantasy occupied my dreams. It was a puzzle. The year was 2003 and I was 16 years old. I had never received corporal punishment. I thought there might be sites about CP on the internet but had never bothered to look them up.
My interest had been aroused by a line I had read in an old book. There was a one-sentence description of a youth bending over a bed and receiving 'a belting on his bare buttocks'.
It was dry, pedantic reading, not the least bit erotic. Yet it was enough to seed my dreams.
That my Uncle Cliff was the gentle chastiser did not surprise me. He was tall and manly, not yet 30, and I loved him. I happened to be staying with him for the holidays and had been kept awake by the sounds of noisy lovemaking from his bedroom next door. He had many lady friends. 'Bed 'em, don't wed 'em' could have been Uncle Cliff's motto.
I knew early on that I was gay. A school friend had deposited a good few loads of thick adolescent spunk inside my bum-crack but that was all we'd ever done. I sighed, got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
That night after we'd stacked the dishwasher, Uncle Cliff checked the TV Guide.
'Nothing I want to watch' he said. "OK if we look at some of Gramp's old films?"
"OK", I replied.
Gramps had been an enthusiastic amateur movie maker. There were cartons full of 8mm film reels. I enjoyed seeing Uncle Cliff as a boy and, of course, his older brother, my late father. There were scenes filmed at Agricultural Shows and also right here at the family farm.
I helped Uncle Cliff set up the projector. As he adjusted the screen on its stand I could see muscles rippling under his thin shirt.
"Tell you what", he said in his deep voice, "There are some movies I bought at a clearing sale a couple of years ago. We might just have a squint at those".
He climbed the stairs to the attic and I heard him walking around up there. When he came down he had a box of films in his hands. He threaded one into the projector and flicked the switch. I turned out the lights.
The film started flashing '8 - 7 - 6' which meant it had a leader on the front, indicating it was a silent commercial film and not one made by an amateur.
A caption appeared: "Bad Boy Barry". The film opened with a grumpy looking man wearing an academic gown who seemed to be reprimanding a younger looking male, dressed in school uniform. The man placed a chair in the middle of the room. The 'boy' reluctantly dropped his trousers and underpants revealing his pink buttocks. He bent submissively over the chair.
The headmaster selected a thin, whippy cane from a cupboard and then slashed it across Barry's plump mounds. His head jerked up. A closeup of his bottom showed the thick purplish-red weal the cane had left in its wake.
I could not believe my eyes. I glanced at Uncle Cliff. He was watching the screen intently.
Meanwhile, the headmaster was busy giving Barry a good thrashing. There were a dozen stripes across his buttocks before the headmaster put his cane back in the cupboard. Poor Barry looked like he was in agony.
Then the last of the film disappeared through the gate of the projector and a square of bright light flooded the screen.
Mindful of hiding my raging hard-on, I got up and flicked the light switch. My uncle turned the projector off. I sat down, not daring to look at my uncle.
"Well, I never", he said. "What did you think of that?"
I had this unfortunate habit of speaking without thinking. "Wish it had been me instead of Barry".
There was a pause.
"You want me to be the headmaster? Is that what you're saying?".
"More than anything", I replied.
"You get off on that sort of thing?"
"I guess so".
"Well, maybe .. "
"You really mean it?" I asked.
"Oh, go on then", he said. "I don't have a cane but my belt will tickle your bum, right enough". He looked at me. "Are you sure you're up for it?"
"Yes", I blurted out.
"Well, it's your backside". He thought for a moment. "Go and have a shower and get into your jammies. Wait for me".
He started putting the projector back in its box.
I went upstairs and used the toilet. Then I had a shower. It was like a dream. I dried myself and then went into the bedroom. As I was changing into pyjamas I heard Uncle Cliff flush the toilet. Then he came into the room.
"Leave your jammies up", he said. "That way I won't have to see you in your birthday suit". His handsome face grimaced with distaste just thinking about it.
I gulped. This was not part of my fantasy.
"Right, son. Get down on the bed". He flung some pillows in the middle and I settled on top of them, my clothed bottom sticking up in the air.
"I can't believe I'm doing this", he muttered.
"Neither can I".
My uncle unlooped his thick, heavy work belt while I lay there feeling both apprehension and exhilaration. He moved to the side of the bed and brought the belt down with a crack! onto my compliant buttocks. A broad stream of fire snaked around my mounds soon to be followed by another. Nothing else had ever hurt so bad.
"Is this what you need ?", he said.
Dazed, I nodded my head. Big mistake !
Another crack! and I let out a yell.
"Good boy", he said, panting a little with the exertion.
The leather rose and fell. My buttocks felt like they were swelling up. This was not the gentle, sensual stuff of my dreams but a real, old-fashioned hiding. I wriggled, trying to evade the flying belt but he just held me down with his spare hand.
"I suppose you're thinking about a time when you escaped punishment" ?
Suddenly, I remembered the day I'd stolen a dollar coin from Mum's purse. Now I was paying a price for thieving. So, I stopped trying to avoid the punishing leather and just lay there accepting the awful hurt, hoping it would clear my guilt. He removed his hand from my back.
Leather snapped against the tight fabric, pummelling already sore flesh. That noise, with my cries and his grunts were the only sounds to be heard. I surrendered totally and even managed to push my ill-used bottom back up, ready for the next hard lick.
Uncle Cliff misinterpreted my actions. "You really DO like getting your botty smacked, don't you lad?"
Without waiting for an answer he carried on exercising his powerful right arm. The hurt was frightful. How I longed for it to be over!
"I've heard about guys like you who are into spanking", my uncle said, conversationally. "I'm only too glad to help".
The leather thudded against my severely punished orbs with even more force than before. How I wished I'd faint from the pain my uncle was cheerfully inflicting, but I'd never felt more alive in my life !
There was a brief reprieve when his cell phone rang.
"Hi, babe", my uncle said. "No, I'm just .. um .. helping the nephew with his .. um .. hobby". He listened to the caller. "Come over when you finish work uh, Huh. 'Bye sweetheart". He flipped the cell phone shut.
"Sorry about that", he said, looking at me.
Then he picked up that wicked leather belt and got stuck into my scorched backside again. The hiding went on and on. I thought my red-hot flesh would have gone numb but, instead, each fresh lick hurt just as much as the first one had. I lay there taking them, probably in shock.
Finally, Uncle Cliff said: "Haven't you had enough, yet?"
"Yes!"
"Let's go back downstairs".
Later, when we were seated again in the living room, one of us was sitting much more comfortably than the other. My bum, tightly encased in its jammies, felt like two pain-filled balloons ready to burst.
"My neighbour Charles is a retired headmaster", Uncle Cliff said. "I bet he knows all about rattan canes. I'll ask him to give you a proper school thrashing. Then there's Danny. He worked at the old borstal and birched one or two lads in his time. Oh, and Seth who raised five boys with the aid of a razor strop".
Speechless, I looked at him.
"Must admit I was worried how I was going to keep you entertained, all through the holidays. Now I know how much you like getting your botty smacked I promise you'll get a good one every day". An affectionate smile lit up his devastatingly handsome face.
"This will be your best farm holiday, ever!"