Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 06 May 2010
I awoke with a huge erection the next morning, thinking of, and longing for, the unbelievable – and unforgettable – pleasure of relieving it with Kristin. Instead, Uncle Bill burst into my bedroom, pulled my sheet and blanket off me, spying my naked body with sprouting, morning wood.
Well, well, boy! What have we got here?! he loudly voiced his question.
Before I could think or try to say anything, he continued.
We’ll take care of that soon enough, young man. Now up with you, run into the bathroom and pee, and then back here for your morning, start-up spanking.
He was serious, and intended to carry through with what he’d said last night. I was shocked and instantly felt sick. When I didn’t spring right up out of bed, he pulled me up off the bed by my thin upper arm, smacked me 8 times on my raw, red bottom, and directed me out of the room, across the hall, to the bathroom. He pushed me down to sit on the toilet and urinate.
Afterward, he pulled me up, flushed, put down the seat, sat down, and pulled me down and over his legs. Picking up the same, mahogany brush, he immediately began branding my excruciatingly sore buttocks and thighs, but this time concentrating more on the inner buttocks and inner thighs. I shrieked, cried out short-lived protests, and collapsed into child-like sobbing and weeping. Bucking and thrashing was met with his hand grasping me by my private member, to settle me down and hold me in place.
Once again, I protested, telling him
Noooooo, Uncle Bill! Not thaaaat! Nooooo! Doooon’t doooo thaaaat!
He paid no heed, but continued blistering my already tanned fanny with that brush until, once more, the shame and pain of being spanked was eclipsed by the demanding need and drive for release. I squealed and cried out, blasting stream after stream of ejaculate onto myself, his leg, and the floor.
After that subsided, I began wailing and bawling as the intense pain from the licking I was getting overwhelmed my ability to focus, to concentrate, to think, and to speak. When he found no more resistance from me, he applied even more, then stopped. I lay hanging upside down over his legs, choking and gasping with sobs, until he figured he’d allowed me long enough.
Now that we’ve got your thinking adjusted, boy, let’s get you cleaned up for the day. Hop in that tub and sit down, lean back, and keep your hands and casts up out of the water, he directed.
Shuddering with pain, misery, and tears, I obeyed. I sat down in the tub and he filled it with warm water up over my legs. He shampooed my short, dark hair, then began scrubbing me with a soapy wash cloth all over, starting with my ears, face, and neck. It was not comfortable to be resting my agonizing butt on the tub, but I had no choice and Uncle Bill ignored my shifting squirms when I tried to ease the discomfort.
He washed my smooth, nude underarms, then proceeded down my arms and hands, my chest and stomach, to my also denuded pubic area. Instead of washing my penis and scrotum, however, he stopped and lifted up my feet and legs, dumping me backward to rest my head on the back of the tub. Holding my feet and legs up against my chest, he began washing my wounded bottom and the backs of my thighs.
I tried to sit quietly and unmoving, even though my butt was throbbing with pain. When he began washing my inner buttocks, however, pushing down and circling against my tight, puckering little hole, I gasped and returned to squirming.
Hold still, Jason Webster, while we get you good and clean, he admonished, and sunk a long, strong finger of his hand deep into my anal canal.
I gasped again, but sucked in sharp inhaling as he twisted his finger around inside me. Then, keeping that finger inserted and moving inside me, he let my legs drop back down onto the bottom of the tub. Taking the soapy wash cloth, he began scrubbing, and rubbing, and sliding, and swirling, and pulling and pumping my engorging penis in his other hand. With his embedded finger igniting the fires of arousal in my organ, it didn’t take long for him to wring out another eruption of ejaculate into the tub.
I was exhausted from the mixed emotions, and the shame, of what I had been through in the past +12 hours since arriving at my Uncle’s ranch. He finished washing me, then shaved my face, afterward pulling me up out of the tub where he dried me thoroughly, and applied deodorant to my smooth underarms. I felt so diminished and belittled by everything that my Uncle had done, and was doing, to me.
He wrapped the towel around me and told me to follow him out and down the hall to the kitchen. There he cooked up eggs and potatoes for breakfast, and fed me a larger portion than I wanted to eat on my own. He gave me a tall glass of milk to empty, and when I had done so, he left me sitting in the kitchen with him while he cleaned up.
Once you’re arms and hands are better, Jason, this’ll be one of your chores, he promised.
I needed to use the bathroom to evacuate my bowels, and Uncle Bill took me, sat me down, and afterward wiped me clean. Then, we were back in my bedroom where he began getting me dressed. He tugged a t-shirt down over my head and arms, and grabbed a baggy pair of khaki shorts, putting them down by my feet to step into.
What about my boxers? I asked.
I told you last night, you’re not going to be wearing boxers any more. They don’t fit a naughty, bad, bratty boy like you, Jason.
I started to interrupt by denying what he said, but he held up the spread fingers of his hand in my face, warning me non-verbally. He tapped my legs and I stuck my bare feet into the legs of the shorts, which he then pulled up my naked legs, to cover my naked pubes and buttocks, while he fastened the button, zipped up the zipper, and tightened the thin belt around my skinny waist.
He pulled out a pair of gray, argyle knee socks and put them alternating on each foot, pulling them up my legs.
Now you can put on those shoes, he directed me, as I stepped into my deck shoes. Glancing at the mirror across the room, I felt a wave of embarrassed shame as I viewed a very, young, child-like looking boy standing there, and I hated what I saw.
We’re going to drive to St. George to stock up on groceries, and while we’re there we’ll buy you some proper underwear, boy, my Uncle advised. He led me out of the house, to his truck. I stood watching as he placed several large coolers in the back of the truck, and then opened the door for me to climb in and ease my battered backside down on the seat. Not knowing where I was, I had no idea how long a drive we were about to embark on.
The trip was almost 7 hours. We drove on US 160, going south into Arizona, and then on US 89 to St. George. When we stopped for gas, he took me to the bathroom, unzipped my shorts, took out my pecker and let me empty my bladder. We drove into St. George, and my Uncle found his way to a Penney’s store. Once we were inside, I whispered I needed to use the bathroom, and he took me again.
After that, we headed to the men’s department, where he found the underwear.
We need some new underpants for my nephew, here, Uncle Bill announced. The salesman immediately began showing us boxers and boxer briefs, but Uncle Bill waved his hand and head.
No, no, no. We want a few pair of white briefs, he explained.
The surprised, dumbfounded smirk on the salesman’s face caused a sinking, mortified feeling inside me.
What size, sir? the salesman asked Uncle Bill, not me.
Well, he’s pretty skinny, Uncle Bill replied,
so, I’d say small.
Not small, Uncle Bill. I’m bigger than that, I spoke up.
He shot me a warning look, then announced,
the boy has no idea how thin he is. We’ll take four packages of white briefs, size small.
I glanced over at the salesman whose face reflected a slight grin. But I dropped my eyes away from his stare as my face blushed crimson when I heard my Uncle ask,
can we use a changing room to put a pair on this poor boy, and get him dressed proper?
Why didn’t he just go ahead and tell the sales clerk I had no underwear on, I thought angrily to myself.
Oh, okay, this way. Follow me. The salesman turned and led the way, with my Uncle pushing me forward ahead of him with occasional, prodding swats to the thin seat of my shorts against my skinny, bare behind under them.
When he had led us to a changing room, the salesman did not leave, however. Instead, he picked up one of the bags of briefs and began tearing it open.
Step out of your shoes, Jason, and let’s get these shorts down, so you can pull on your underpants and be properly dressed, Uncle Bill uttered with explicit detail.
I balked at doing that right there – especially with the salesman – a stranger – standing there, watching. Uncle Bill, whose temperament must be 180º opposite of his sister, my Mom, had no patience with my reluctance. He reached down, pulled up first one foot, then the other, pulling off my shoes.
Standing there in just my knee-sock feet, I tried to turn and back out of reach of him. The little cubicle was cramped, and the salesman stood blocking the door with the opened package of
tighty-whities in his hand.
Uncle Bill reached out and grabbed me, jerking me forward off my stocking feet, and then sat down on the little bench. He opened my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my khakis, yanked them down my hips to fall on the floor at my feet.
He quickly wrenched me, naked from my waist to the socks at my knees, upside down across his legs. The deep, dark, red-purple marks from the hair brush and the strap were glaring on my butt cheeks and thighs as I lay sprawled across his lap.
Trying to twist away, I shouted a hapless objection as that same, large, strong, right hand began smacking my bottom hot and hard, stinging and hurting a rump that was already bruised and well-punished. He launched a long, swift volley of smacks to my inner and upper thighs, my sit spots, and each of my buttocks.
I shrieked like a young child, screeching my plea,
Noooo-aaaaa-not-huh-uh-therrrrrre! Even though it was just his hand this time, it was stinging and throbbing my butt like the devil, and I could feel my emotions slipping away from me.
Hanging upside down, I glanced up at the salesman, who stood there fascinated, staring at the helpless, humiliated, and shamed look on my reddened face and streaming eyes, as I shook and heaved with sobs that accompanied the hard-hitting spanks. I looked away, and down at the floor where my tears were dropping.
In record time, Uncle Bill achieved my complete disgrace and defeat: I caved in, sobbing, babbling and broken, crying out rasping cries and pleas in a voice that sounded just like a bad, sorrowful, begging child being spanked.
Thankfully, this time he did not secure me in place by grasping my hard rod. In only a matter of minutes, he had me completely yielding and submissive.
He then hauled me right up off his lap, onto my feet, where I stood, squalling, tears streaking from my eyes, stomping and furiously clutching at my sore, throbbing behind with my clumsy casts, my boner saluting erect. I was oblivious for the trounced moment to the immodest spectacle I was featuring to the salesman – and anyone else within view or hearing.
Uncle Bill lacked any sympathy for me.
Let us have one of those pairs, he spoke to the salesman, who handed him a pair of white briefs. Holding them open down at my feet, he ordered,
get these on right now, Jason. Still bent forward, with my casts spread out over my backside, looking downward I stepped first one foot, then the other, into the briefs.
Immediately, he pulled them up my legs, tucking my engorged member down into the pouch. Instructing me,
move your hands, Jason, he pulled them all the way up, scraping them over my scorched thighs and buttocks, up to my hips and waist. I winced aloud, not yet realizing in those tight, skimpy briefs, so much of my red-marked, spanked buttocks and thighs were evident.
At once I could feel how different wearing briefs was from boxers — and how very tight and snug these briefs were on my currently aroused and ample, private package in front, and how snugly wrapped around the thin, small band of cloth was that ensconced the part of my butt cheeks packed in behind. Gingerly, I returned my casted hands to the thin seat of the briefs, to try to quench the fiery pain back there.
Alright, now, let’s put your shorts back on, son, he added. Holding them for me to step similarly into, he pulled them up, zipped them up, fastened and buckled the belt. I was clothed again, while still standing with my hands on my butt, covering my rump through the seat of my khakis, while I continued heaving sobs.
Get your shoes on, Jason. While we’re here, we’ll ask this man to show us some pajamas for you, so you’re not going to bed and waking up in your birthday suit. I cringed listening to my Uncle spill unnecessary private information to this stranger.
With my feet back in my shoes, I followed the salesman and my Uncle, lifting my t-shirt up high, baring my skinny abdomen and hips, as I tried to wipe the telltale tears off my face and out of my eyes. The sales clerk carried the rest of the packages of briefs to the register counter, set them down, then led us back over to men’s underwear, and showed us pajamas.
Uncle Bill saw a set with cotton shorts, and a pull over, short-sleeve top. There were 5 different colours: brown, green, blue, grey, and orange. In size small, which he picked up, however, were only green, brown, and blue.
He took all 3 and paid for it all himself.
Come on, son, he spoke to me as we were about to depart from the register,
let’s get some solid food, and order something to take back with us that we can eat later on the way.
We left the Penney’s store (none too soon for me), and drove to Denny’s, where we ordered a hardy meal each, and my Uncle practiced feeding me while eating his own meal. Uncle Bill also ordered sandwiches and milk and coffee to go, that we could eat later as we traveled back home.
Then we drove to Lin’s Supermarket where we loaded up 3 carts (I pushed one, while Uncle Bill pulled and pushed 2 others). There was a huge amount of food, but we took it all out to the truck, put all the cold goods in the coolers, packed up the rest and strapped it in, before heading back home to his ranch.
It was after 9 p.m. when we arrived back at my Uncle’s ranch. We were both beat from the long day of driving back and forth – and me from the upsetting events of the early afternoon at Penney’s. We exited the truck and walked into the house, before he turned around and began the long, protracted task of bringing everything in and putting it away.
I was not able to be of much help, and he told me to sit at the table and watch until he was done. It took over an hour, and I was hoping that afterward, he would quickly and simply help me get ready for, and into, bed for the night. That was hope misplaced.
Okay, we’ll get you cleaned up for the night, he declared when he had completed putting all of the groceries and supplies away.
Then before we put your new pajamas on, Jason, we’ll take care of that matter of the whipping you have coming tonight.
My heart crashed, and my attitude and outlook turned sour at once. He stripped my clothes off in the bathroom, washed me up thoroughly, brushed my teeth, and then led me, naked, across the hall into my bedroom, while carrying the mahogany brush.
When he sat on my bed and pulled me around to his right, I whined and wheedled,
Noooo, Uncle Bill, pleeeez. Not another onnnne! Pleeeez! You already spanked me – this afternoon, at Penney’s, remember?
True enough, but you brought that one on yourself at that moment – just like I promised you, Jason. This one, however, you earned for yourself – and I promised you – last night. So, let’s not prolong this. You’ve been told you’re getting a spanking, and that’s all there is to it. You’ve got it coming; and I’m going to be good for my word with you, boy – always. That’s always effective with a boy, to get him going, and to learn – and faster – and you’ll be a better boy afterward, you can count on that, son.
With those words, he pulled me once again down, over his lap, shifting my bare, blistered and bruised butt upward, positioned as a target for spanks. I gasped, and let out a liquid-sounding moan,
Oh, pleeeee-aaaa-eeeez, noooooo, aaaaah-ow-ow-Uncle Billllll!
He peppered my unimaginably sore and aching behind and upper legs. In slightly over a minute, I was broken, sobbing, and weeping, while writhing and thrashing about on his lap. Uncle Bill continued the spanking, holding me more firmly as I twisted and bucked about on his leg.
I tried to bring my hand cast around to protect my scalded rearend. He grabbed my arm, pulling it out of the way. He resolutely built up the momentum of the spanking, raining down a rapid successions of sharp smacks, first on one cheek, and then on the other, back and forth, repeated series and repeated series, varying them from time to time with a series of smacks to the sit spots of my rump, until I was sobbing and pleading.
In a few minutes, he released my arm, which immediately moved again to shield my agonizing rear. A smack with the brush on my fingers, poking out of my cast, made me move it out of the way. At the same time, he reached under and grabbed my male organ, which responded to the touch by telescoping in length and engorging in thickness. He spanked my bare butt and thighs while hanging onto the stiff handle extending from between my legs, as I wildly humped his hand and knee.
During a flurry of blistering spanks, I cried out with pain and excitement, depleting both my stamina and energy, and the supply of stored-up sperm. I was sobbing with painful shame, but also excited, sexual relief.
The latter was fast overshadowed by the continuing blistering torching the flesh of my butt and upper legs. Receiving 5 spankings within little more than 24 hours, had already brought me under the dominance and authority of my 45 year-old Uncle. Surrendering quickly, I wanted to assure him unquestionably of my willingness and readiness to behave and obey him, and bring my agonizing punishment to an end as soon as possible.
When he was satisfied that I had been disciplined adequately, he pulled me up off his lap by my arm, marched me unsteady on my feet back to the bathroom. There he washed down my genitals, legs, and stomach, and steered me back to my bedroom without delay.
He opened a package of the new, size small pajamas, pulled the short-sleeve shirt over my head and down my arms, closely fitting around my chest and shoulders. He held the shorts for me to step wobbly-legged into, pulling them up my legs, and over, to fit snugly around, my hips and buttocks. The small, tight-fitting pajamas felt so strange after years of sleeping in just boxers, or bare.
With his powerful strength that I felt – and knew better than to try to resist – he turned me around, lifted me up, and helped place me down into the bed on my face and stomach, patting my little rump under the thin, stretched seat of my pajamas.
I lay, face in the pillow, weeping and whimpering. Uncle Bill did not speak again, but turned off the light, closed the door, and left me to cry myself very quickly to sleep.
Despite 5 orgasms in the past 24 hours, my sleep was occupied by tumultuous, vivid, sexual dreams – mostly with Kristin Kirkenwald; but in one that disturbed me, we were intruded upon by Uncle Bill, who pulled me out of bed and away from Kristin, turned me over his knee, grasped my vibrating rod, and spanked me until I exploded with climax and loud, wailing sobs. I lay trembling as that bizarre dream awakened me, until fatigue suffocated my troubled, drowsy, consciousness.
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