“Mother! What is your problem? I’m eighteen, for heavens sakes. Just get off my case, will you?” Almost in tears, Sara stormed from the living room and raced up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving her mother stunned and bewildered.
There was nothing new about this latest confrontation, although it had gone on for fully forty minutes, which was much longer than usual. Sara and her mother had them pretty much every day. The cause varied. Sometimes it was because Sara had stayed out far too late, even on school days. She drank too much alcohol, she smoked cannabis, and her mother was never sure what other illegal substances her daughter consumed. Her so-called friends had certainly played their part in leading her astray. Her two school friends she’d known for years were not part of that group. Mrs Perkins never understood why Sara couldn’t stick with them and steer well clear of the bad lot, as she called them.
Sara, sniffing back fresh tears, took her cellphone and called one of the few friends she still had that her mother approved of.
“Hey, Sara. What’s up?”
“Hey, Emily. Just had yet another row with my mother.”
“Oh no. About what?”
“I got home late last night. I was, like, you know, out with the boys, and that.”
“Yes, you looked tired; at school, I mean.”
“Well, they’d managed to get good hash, know what I mean? It was an invitation I just couldn’t refuse.”
“Not really, I just don’t want to know about such things. What about your mother, though? Surely she must be pretty upset with all your arguing.”
“She is. I mean, I don’t mean to be rude to her or upset her, but she just won’t let me do my own thing.”
“Are you surprised, when you consider some of the things you’ve been getting up to?”
“I suppose not, really. It’s just the way she puts things, like I’m a child or something.”
“Well, you are still eighteen, Sara, and still at school.”
“God! That’s another thing. The school have been on to her complaining about my attendance, the standard of my work, my behaviour towards staff, and just about anything else they can think to complain about.”
“I can kind of understand that, Sara. You have been pretty rude to some teachers. I’ve seen that myself. And to some of the other girls too.”
“I know. I don’t mean to be. It’s just that they get under my skin and then I say things I don’t really mean but, like, it’s letting off steam, kind of.”
“I think that’s why they make us dress in little skirts and run around a hockey pitch with a stick in our hands, to let off steam.”
“Yes, well, that doesn’t seem to work with me. I hate hockey, and all the other silly games.”
“Actually, I don’t ever recall you giving it a fair trial, Sara.”
“Maybe not.” Sara sighed. “Hey, do you want to come out for a drink this evening?”
“No, I have homework to do.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“No. I have to hand it in tomorrow.”
“It won’t matter.”
“Yes, it will. Besides my mother wouldn’t let me out without knowing where I’m going, with whom and for what reason. Going for a drink with my mate Sara really wouldn’t go down at all well.”
“But what can she do about it?”
“I don’t know. Probably tan my bum for me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Emily! You’re far too old for that sort of thing.”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t want to bet money on it. Anyway, I want to get this work done for me. I need to get good grades if I’m to stand a chance of getting to the university I want.”
<>“You’re brainy; you’re bound to get there. But all work and no play makes for a very dull Emily. Can’t I tempt you with low lights, good music and great alcohol?”“Sorry, no. I just don’t like your other friends, Sara. They’re just low-lifes who don’t like work of any kind and don’t care if they mess their lives up.”
“Oh come on, Em. They’re fun. They like music and getting out of their heads for a bit.”
“They’re not fun, Sara. They’re stupid and I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
“Okay, well, if I can’t tempt you?”
“Bye, Sara.”
Sara turned over and lay on her back, rather miffed at how Emily had ended the call so abruptly. She’d known Emily ever since they were four years old and had always been close friends, but now it seemed schoolwork and ambition were far more important to her than friendship. Deep down, Sara knew she should be more like Emily; quiet, hard working, respectful. She envied Emily, who always seemed much happier than she ever was. It wasn’t that Emily was more intelligent than Sara; Sara had, until the past eight months or so, been a pretty good student herself. It was just that, now she was more mature, petty rules and hard work had to compete with fun and having a good time.
Noisy clattering sounds from the kitchen reminded Sara that her mother was extremely upset about the latest row, not that Sara was that happy about it either. She thought about putting on some music, but that could so easily be the source of yet another row that she decided against it. She laid back, hands cupped at the back of her head, and thought again about Emily. She did envy her long time friend in some respects. Her life seemed so placid and well organised, whereas Sara’s seemed of the moment and lacking direction. Maybe these out of school friendships that isolated her from friends like Emily did have their downside.
Closing here eyes, Sara tried to calm herself down. Her brain was still racing from the row with her mother, not helped by the fairly blunt rebuttal from Emily. Forcing herself to breathe slowly and deeply, something Emily had said stuck in her mind. Surely, Emily’s mother would never actually tan Emily’s bottom, like actually spank her! No, not at age eighteen, not in this day and age.
Sara’s mother had always tried to be there for her, but it was as though she was a friend, albeit an older friend, rather than a mentor, educator, counsellor and parent. Her father had left her mother when she was still a baby and she didn’t remember him. Her mother had tried hard to compensate; too hard, Sara felt. She just didn’t see her mother as someone to respect, someone who had the right to set rules and boundaries and to ensure they were enforced. There had never been any thought about Sara’s mother applying a firm hand to her daughter’s bottom.
Uncle Mike was her mother’s older brother by some six years. He owned a farm about fifty miles away, although ‘farm’ was a rather grand term for what was actually four fields, a house, two old metal barns and several derelict sheds. He grew apples, although the trees were old and neglected and they rarely produced any sort of real harvest. Uncle Mike tinkered with old cars, sold a few parts here and there and had somehow managed to keep a wife, Auntie Jane, and bring up three children, all now grown up and left home.
Auntie Jane was lovely. She loved cooking and baking, needlework and knitting, and always seemed to have plenty of time. She served meals at set times; eight o’clock was breakfast, twelve-thirty was lunch, three-thirty was afternoon tea and eight o’clock was dinner. Sara’s favourite was chicken and rice which Auntie Jane could make so delicious that Sara looked forward to it every time they visited.
Sadly for the eighteen-year-old, Sara’s mother wasn’t fond of her older brother, so visits were far rarer than Sara would have wished. She considered herself lucky if they visited twice a year. The trouble was, Uncle Mike had a reputation in the family for liking women and being somewhat over-friendly with wandering hands. Indeed, every time they visited Sara could expect several pats on her bottom and Uncle Mike would always ask her if she’d been caned at school, even though such a thing was virtually unheard of at her school, at least for girls. She didn’t mind, even if her mother disapproved and Auntie Jane would tut under her breath if she saw him.
Sara loved Uncle Mike. He’d hold her tight and plant a sloppy kiss on her face whenever they met, put his hand round her shoulders and lead her off for some treat from the larder. He taught her things too. Sometimes they’d clamber aboard an ancient Land Rover and go down to the coast to fish off the beach, or they’d disappear into one of the barns or sheds and work on an old car he was restoring. Or they’d wander around the farm with Uncle Mike pointing out things, like once he showed her a tiny mouse asleep on a blade of overgrown grass that she’d never have spotted on her own. Another time, he showed her some wild strawberries and picked some for her. Although they were tiny, they tasted delicious and much sweeter than the shop-bought variety.
Maybe at the next school holidays she could go and stay with Uncle Mike and Auntie Jane. She had spent the occasional week with them when she was younger and her cousins James, Elizabeth and Helen were still at home. Sara knew she would, for at least a week or two, be free from the rows she was having with her mother. It would be calming and peaceful, and she could really relax. Could she stand being away from her drink and drug loving friends though?
Her uncle and aunt’s house was always a friendly house; the steady ticking of a grandfather clock in the hall, the wood fires in winter and several cats around the place made it a real home. Her three cousins had always seemed so happy and content too, much like her friend Emily. But Uncle Mike was a disciplinarian. Sara had once heard her cousin, Elizabeth, getting some kind of a spanking as she had passed by the closed door to the small front room Uncle Mike used as an office. Sara had waited around the corner in the hallway and seen Elizabeth emerge with a red face and rubbing the seat of her blue and yellow gingham dress.
Uncle Mike would never have allowed Sara to get into this mess. He’d have talked to her and explained things to her, and pointed out the benefits of working hard and getting a good education. He’d have reminded her of the good things in life that didn’t need alcohol or drugs to enhance her view of them. Would he have spanked her too? Sara thought he probably would.
Perhaps Sara’s mother could be persuaded into taking them to visit Uncle Mike and Auntie Jane. They hadn’t been for over a year, so the idea wouldn’t be out of place. What if Sara was able to convince her mother? No doubt Sara could go off alone with Uncle Mike and leave her mother chatting to Auntie Jane. That, she was sure, wouldn’t be a problem. But, what then? She could talk to Uncle Mike and tell him about the rows she was having with her mother, and explain how she hated upsetting her mother yet couldn’t ever find a way of avoiding yet another argument. Would Uncle Mike have some idea about how she could mend her relationship with her mother? Would he even spank her?
What if Uncle Mike listened to her and then simply pulled Sara over his knee and applied his firm hand to her backside? Would she resist? Would she complain she was too old to be treated that way? Sara wasn’t sure, but something inside her told her Uncle Mike was in some way the solution.
“Mum, I’m so sorry.” Sara found her mother sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee untouched, elbows propping up her head that was cradled in her hands.
“So am I,” Mrs Perkins whispered, as though she didn’t care whether Sara heard the answer or not.
Sara gently felt the mug of coffee; it was cold.
“Do you want another coffee? I’m having one. I’ll make it.”
Mrs Perkins shrugged her shoulders, but then pushed her mug forward.
Five minutes later, Sara sat opposite her mother, fresh coffee in front of both of them.
“I was thinking,” Sara broke the uncomfortable silence. “Could we go and visit Uncle Mike and Auntie Jane? We haven’t seen them for a while and, well, it would be a day out for both of us.”
Mrs Perkins raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t at all unusual for Sara to be asking a favour, usually wanting more money, but suggesting a family outing certainly was something new.
“I suppose. When did you have in mind?”
“This weekend, perhaps?”
“You’re not thinking of asking Uncle Mike for money, are you? It would be a waste of breath. He doesn’t make much from that place of theirs he laughingly calls a farm, you know.”
“No!” Sara paused and bit her tongue. “But I might ask his advice about something.”
“Advice? What advice?”
“Oh, just a little problem I’ve been having. I think he’d know the answer, or at least could steer me in the right direction.”
Mrs Perkins sipped her coffee thoughtfully. While she might not approve of her older brother’s ways, especially when it came to holding her daughter in a tight embrace and patting her bottom at every opportunity, he certainly wouldn’t in any way countenance her drinking, drug taking and general bad behaviour; quite the reverse, in fact.
“Okay. Yes, it would be good to get a change of scenery. If we went early on Saturday morning and stayed overnight, it would be a nice little weekend away. Or wouldn’t that suit your other arrangements?”
Sara swallowed hard at that obviously sarcastic remark, struggling not to offer some offensive comment in return.
“No, I’d like that. Will you phone and see if they’re free?”
The following Saturday, Sara and her mother, Mary, set off just after ten o’clock, heading for Uncle Mike’s farm. The atmosphere in the car was already tense due to several rows, the first over Sara’s refusal of a cooked breakfast, the second over Sara’s choice of clothing for the trip; navy blue tracksuit bottoms and a white T-shirt.
“Wouldn’t jeans be a better option? Especially if you’re thinking of wandering around that dirty old farm with Uncle Mike.” Her mother had suggested, trying to be genuinely helpful.
“These clothes will wash just as easily as jeans. Anyway, I’ve brought jeans in my suitcase, so I can change if I need to.”
“They’re also a bit thin, Sara. That place is covered in nettles, brambles and goodness knows what else.”
“Mother! Just leave it, will you? I’m eighteen, for goodness sakes, and quite capable of putting together a few things for a weekend away!”
And so things had continued. At least once they were in the car and on their way, silence took over from the constant bickering and Mary Perkins concentrated on her driving while Sara stared stony-faced out of the passenger window. It was a relief to both when Mary steered the car up the rough driveway leading to the farm house.
“Good to see you both!” Uncle Mike bellowed out as the two females began to emerge from the car.
“Hello Uncle Mike!” Sara met her Uncle halfway between the front door and the car, and threw her arms around him.
“Hello, favourite niece.” Uncle Mike held Sara in a tight embrace and planted slobbery kisses on both cheeks.
“Er, I’m your only niece, Uncle Mike.” Sara managed to say as she struggled to draw breath in the tight clinch.
“So, you must be my favourite one, then, mustn’t you?” Uncle Mike joked in his strangely soothing country accent. “Here, let me help you with your bags,” he added as he noticed his sister, Mary, had taken their bags from the car and was already nearing the front door.
“Hello, Sara, come on in. Would you like a cup of coffee? It’s all ready.”
Sara looked through the open doorway into the back of the house and saw her Auntie Jane drying her hands on a towel as she emerged from the kitchen.
“Ooh, yes please,” Sara went through and kissed the middle-aged woman on both cheeks.
“Sit yourself down, then. Hello, Mary. Did you have a good journey down? You sit next to Sara and I’ll get the coffee.”
“Morning, Jane. Yes, it’s not a bad little drive really. I could murder a cup of coffee, though.”
Auntie Jane paused just long enough to note the strained atmosphere as Sara and her mother sat together on one side of the big old kitchen table but didn’t speak to each other. Uncle Mike joined them, sitting on one of two chairs on the opposite side of the table.
“So, what you been up to, young Sara?” Uncle Mike either didn’t notice or simply took no heed of the strained relations across the table. “Been a good girl, I hope?”
“Of course, Uncle Mike. I’m always a good girl,” Sara answered with a smile.
Her mother took a sideways glance at her but said nothing.
“Not had the cane at school then?” Uncle Mike continued.
“No, of course not, Uncle.” She was tempted to add that girls at her school virtually never got the cane, but then she’d told him that so many times before.
“Ah, coffee!” Uncle Mike took his own favourite mug and passed the others around. Finally, Auntie Jane sat next to her husband.
“So, anything you want to do today?” She asked.
Mary Perkins looked at her daughter, leaving her to reply.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Sara answered. “Perhaps take a look around and see what you’ve been doing on the farm? You were restoring an old Jaguar, the last time we were here.”
“And he’s still restoring an old Jaguar!” Auntie Jane laughed. “And it’s probably the same one!”
“You can’t rush these things,” Uncle Mike smiled.
“And you don’t.”
“Shall we have a spot of lunch first, then, and we’ll have a look around. How about that?”
“Sounds good, Uncle Mike.” Sara replied.
After a salad lunch, which Auntie Jane managed to make tastier and more delicious than most people could, Mary Perkins helped her sister-in-law with the washing up, leaving Uncle Mike and Sara sitting alone at the kitchen table.
“So, young Sara, do you want to see what I’ve been getting up to in the workshop?”
“Yes, please.”
“Come on then,” Uncle Mike grinned as he stood up.
“Don’t you go getting your clothes dirty,” warned Auntie Jane.
“I won’t,” Sara replied and followed her uncle towards the front door.
Uncle Mike held the front door open for Sara to go out into the yard, and gave her a gentle pat on the seat of her navy blue tracksuit trousers as she passed through. She grinned.
“So, how’s school going then?” Her uncle asked as they went through one of the two large doors that led into the old barn he used as a general storeroom and workshop.
“Okay,” she replied unconvincingly.
“And your mother? How’s things with her?”
“Well,” Sara shrugged her shoulders.
“Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
The sudden look of surprise instantly confirmed he’d hit the nail on the head. “Was it that obvious?” She asked.
“Pretty much. Let’s sit down and you can tell me all about it.” Uncle Mike dusted off two old wooden chairs. “So, what’s been happening?”
“I was, um, sort of, needing a little advice?” Sara made it sound like a question as they sat down opposite each other. “It’s difficult.”
“It’s difficult, is it? Now, I can still put two and two together and come up with something approaching the right answer; most times, at least. I’m thinking you and your mum aren’t getting on too well. Am I getting close to the mark?”
“Well, it’s not that I mean to upset her,” Sara began.
“But you do?”
“Yes. I mean, she keeps criticising my friends, she doesn’t like me staying out late, I drink too much. Everything I do is wrong in her eyes.”
“At least you’re keeping away from any of these drugs you see mentioned every time you switch the television on, aren’t you?”
Sara went very red in the face.
“How about your school friends?”
“Well, I sort of feel I’ve outgrown them.”
“So, you’ve got some new friends? Are they older than you? More mature, in your eyes?”
“Something like that. Yes, Uncle Mike.”
“And they drink alcohol and take drugs and stuff, and you think being with them makes you feel more mature, do you?”
“I suppose so,” Sara answered, wondering how her uncle always seemed to know what was in her mind.
“You know, I think deep down you know these so-called new friends aren’t very good friends at all. They’re leading you into places you shouldn’t really go, and taking you away from the people you should really care about, like your old school friends and your mum. Do you really need me to tell you that?”
“Not really, I suppose.”
“I could see from the moment you arrived there was a lot troubling you, Sara. You’re not feeling very happy with things at the moment, are you now?”
Sara shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. Seeing that, her uncle patted her knee.
“Don’t you go worrying your pretty head, young Sara. I’m sure we can find a solution to your problems.”
Sara nodded. “I hope so,” she added tearfully.
Uncle Mike gave his niece a few moments to mop up the tears, then asked: “So, have you any ideas about what to do?”
Sara drew a deep breath. “Well, I know I have to get a grip and ditch these people that really aren’t good people to mix with.”
“Yes, sounds good, but can you do that?”
“I can, and really it won’t be that hard. They treat me like I’m a young child that’s below them anyway. If I don’t contact them, they won’t contact me.”
“And your old friends that you’ve been ignoring?”
“I can work on them. I think they’ll have me back.”
“Sounds like we’re half way there. Which leaves us with your mother. How are you going to settle things with her? I get the feeling you haven’t been treating her too kindly at all, have you?”
“I don’t know. I mean, you’re right, we’ve been having some really serious rows. I’ve been very rude and disrespectful. In fact, I’ve been really nasty at times, but I just find it so hard to have any respect for her.”
Uncle Mike nodded thoughtfully. You know, if any of my kids had behaved the way you’ve been acting, I’d have put them across my knee. I don’t suppose your mum’s done that with you, has she?”
Sara shook her head vigorously. “Uncle, I’m eighteen, I’m too old for that sort of thing.”
“Not in my view, you’re not. But then, you knew how I disciplined your cousins, didn’t you?”
“Sort of. I mean, I heard what sounded like you spanking one of the girls once. That’s all, really.” Sara looked down at the ground, not able to look directly at her uncle.
“Perhaps that’s what you’d like me to do with you?” Uncle Mike continued.
“What?” Sara looked up in surprise. “No, of course not. The idea never crossed my mind,” she lied.
“It would do you a lot of good, though, wouldn’t it? It would take you down a peg or two, let you know you’re not as grown up as you’ve been thinking you are. And when your mum gets to know you’ve had your backside tanned, well, maybe she would feel a little more kindly towards you.”
“God! You wouldn’t tell her, would you?”
“No, not necessarily, although I don’t like the idea of you keeping secrets from your mum. Then again, I don’t see how you’d mend things with your mum if we didn’t tell her.”
Sara nodded slowly as she worked her way through the things that had been said. Uncle Mike gave her all the time she needed.
“So, what happens next?” Sara suddenly asked.
Her uncle leaned forward, his face near to hers. “What do you want to happen?” He asked, very quietly.
“I don’t know.” She played with her dark collar length hair.
“I’m not going to force you, Sara. That’s not my place to do that.”
“No,” Sara conceded. “So, if we were, like, going to spank me, how would we do it?”
Uncle Mike laughed openly. “Oh, that’s the easy bit, my dear. I pull you across my knee, pull down your trousers and tan the seat of your pants!”
His jocular manner annoyed Sara, who considered this whole venture to be extremely difficult and highly embarrassing. She went red in the face.
“Couldn’t it be done on the seat of my trousers?” She suggested, struggling to cope with the humiliation.
“In my experience, that wouldn’t be anywhere near so useful. You can keep a certain dignity if you’ve got your trousers on, not so much when there’s just flimsy knickers between your bottom and the strap that’s making you squeal.”
Sara sat stock still and looking horrified. This wasn’t what she’d envisaged at all.
“Strap? Wouldn’t you just use your hand?” She finally queried.
“No. I’d give you a good hiding.” Uncle Mike looked at her. “I suppose you were thinking you’d just lay across my lap for a few seconds while I gently tapped the seat of your trousers, eh? No, you need a good hiding, young Sara. It’s what you deserve, isn’t it? It’s either a proper tanning or it’s nothing. You have to choose.”
The teenager breathed in and sighed. She was fast losing any control over the spanking she’d assumed she would negotiate with ease.
“So, what is this strap like, Uncle Mike?”
“Hanging up over there is an old leather strop that my old dad used to sharpen his razor when he shaved in the morning. I use an electric razor, but that old strop is still useful for smacking naughty girls’ bottoms!”
“Cou-could I see it?” Sara gulped, suddenly feeling a strange tingling feeling run all down her spine.
“Sure you can.” Uncle Mike got up and struggled through a large pile of rubbish until he reached the far wall of the barn. He returned and offered a length of thick leather to Sara. “There you go, young lady.”
She held it in both hands and reckoned it to be around fifteen inches long and three inches wide. It was dark brown in colour, stained from years of use and not very flexible. A small leather loop was attached to it for hanging on a hook.
“It’s heavy,” was her first thought. Foremost in her mind was how much it would hurt, if she decided to proceed.
“It is,” her uncle confirmed. “Just right for smacking a young lady’s bottom, don’t you think?”
Sara blushed. She didn’t answer the question. Perhaps if she changed into jeans, this heavy strap wouldn’t do so much damage. But would her uncle allow that? She had her doubts.
“It seems,” she paused. “It seems quite hard.”
“It had to be, when my old dad sharpened his razor with it. That’s quite useful too for the purpose we have in mind.”
“It’s very dirty,” she commented. “And these tracksuit trousers are nearly new. I don’t want to get them stained by all this dust and dirt.”
“I’ll give it a good wipe, don’t you worry.” Uncle Mike reassured her. “Anyway, you won’t be wearing those trousers, so you don’t have anything to worry about there, do you?” He grinned smugly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’d have those trousers of yours down around your ankles. A good hiding on the seat of your knickers would do you a lot more good rather than two layers of protection.”
Sara blushed yet again, but she still handed the strap back. “So, what do we have to do?”
Uncle Mike looked at her. “Do you want me to fetch your mum over here so she can see you getting your spanking?”
“God, no!”
“You’re sure?”
Getting no answer from his niece, Uncle Mike stood up and found a moderately clean rag which he used to give the leather strap a good wipe. He threw the rag onto the general heap of rubbish, then returned to his chair and repositioned it a little further away from where Sara was sitting. She watched his every movement with great care.
Uncle Mike sat down and made himself comfortable, then he beckoned to Sara.
“Come and stand this side of me, young Sara,” he said, pointing to the floor just to the right of his chair.
She stood up, rubbed her backside through the material of her tracksuit trousers, and went over to where her uncle continued to point with his finger.
“Here?” She asked.
“A little nearer, I’d say,” Uncle Mike replied, helping her move a few inches forward with a hand wrapped round her bottom. “Yes, that’s about right. Now, when you’re ready, slip your trousers down and bend over and get yourself laying face down across my lap.”
Sara avoided looking at him. She thought about fleeing the scene, just running off toward the house. Her uncle wouldn’t be able to stop her, even if he wanted to. He’d probably let her go, and laugh. But this was for her. It was something she needed to do. She hastily inserted her thumbs into the elastic waist of her trousers and pushed them down.
“Sorry,” Sara said instinctively as she placed a hand on Uncle Mike’s thigh and then almost fell across his lap. “Is this okay?” Sara asked as she fidgeted and squirmed to get into position across her uncle’s broad thighs.
She soon felt his hands guiding her a little further back and closer to his thickset body. He felt warm and comfortable to her as she reached down so the tips of her fingers touched the oil-stained dirt that covered the floor of the barn. Similarly, the tips of her shoes also just reached the floor.
“That’s just perfect!” Her uncle confirmed. “Your choice of knickers seems just perfect too,” He chuckled, looking down at Sara’s black thong-like panties that left virtually all her smooth, milky bottom naked.
“At least you can’t accuse me of trying to cheat,” she countered, at the same time trying to keep the atmosphere light-hearted.
It had taken Sara ages to choose underwear for the trip, particularly her choice of panties. Her games knickers that she wore under the short games skirt when she played hockey seemed at first to be a good choice. There was no doubt in her mind that Uncle Mike would spank her on the seat of her knickers. But would he feel the games knickers were too thick? Would he suddenly tug them down before she could stop him and spank her bare bottom? In the end, she decided the thong-like panties would allow him to spank her bare bottom without causing her the extra embarrassment of pulling them down.
“No, I can’t,” her uncle conceded. “No, it looks like you’ve come here ready and willing to take your spanking fair and square.”
“Whenever you’re ready, uncle.” Sara just sensed her uncle would be staring at and admiring the soft curves of her exposed bottom. For some moments, she let him have a good eyeful, but now she encouraged him to start the spanking, even though the very thought of the coming pain sent her mind into turmoil.
“Ow!” She shrieked as the leather strap lashed across her effectively bare bottom. “That hurt!”
“Good. That’s what we want, isn’t it?”
“Argh!” She squirmed on his lap when the second stroke whipped her bare buttocks. “Please, uncle, go easy!”
“It’s going easy on you that’s got you here, young Sara!”
When Sara continued to fidget and squirm on his lap as the strokes fell, her uncle took her right arm and folded it behind her back so he could hold her in position.
“Is that really necessary, uncle?” Sara asked, now rather breathless.
“All the better to get good lashes across your bottom, young lady. Easier to make every stroke count. We need to do that, don’t we?”
‘Oh yes, we must do that!’ Sara thought to herself sarcastically.
The sound of the leather strap smacking Sara’s bottom echoed round the old barn, and she began to worry what her Auntie Jane or, worse, her own mother might make of it if they approached. The door was still wide open so anyone would have to realise what was happening.
The strap continued to whip her bottom and Sara felt so very sore as every inch of bare flesh seemed to suffer. Somehow, though, she’d become acclimatised to the sharp pain when the leather met her bottom and it was the mounting soreness that more concerned her.
And then she was no longer being hit. Someone was speaking. What was the voice saying? Get up? Really? Was that the message?
“You alright, girl?”
“Yes, uncle,” Sara replied, having now recognised the voice. She reached back with her right hand, now released from her uncle’s grip, and delicately explored her very sore bottom.
“Up you get, then.”
“Is that it? Is it done?” She asked, with no rush to get off the man’s lap.
“I reckon so. That’s about thirty licks. I don’t think you’ll be sitting down with any great comfort for a few hours, so I think we’re done.”
Finally, Sara did ease herself up off the lap where she stood rubbing her bottom. She felt no urgency to pull up her trousers; alleviating her discomfort was still the priority.
“God! Will I ever sit down again?” She asked, not especially of her uncle.
“Give it ten minutes,” he answered. “Then the worst of the pain will be gone. It’ll still be sore when you sit down though. But that’s all part of it, really, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
Uncle Mike chuckled. He stood up and put the old leather strap back where he’d found it. “Don’t think we’ll be needing this again,” he said, and then added: “At least, not for today.”
Sara glared at him, but then reached down and pulled up her tracksuit trousers. They felt very tight around her bottom.
“Shall we go back to the house? I could do with a cup of tea after that.” Uncle Mike suggested.
Sara nodded and they made their way back to the old farmhouse where they found Auntie Jane and Sara’s mother sitting in the lounge.
“Any tea left in the pot?” Uncle Mike asked.
“I’ll make another pot.” Auntie Jane got up and went out into the kitchen.
“Alright?” Mary Perkins asked of her daughter, clearly suspicious of what her daughter and Uncle Mike had been up to in the old barn.
“Fine, thanks,” Sara replied abruptly as she tried hard not to give away what had actually happened, and hoped her blunt response might deter her mother from asking questions.
The remainder of the visit went well. The four of them enjoyed an evening meal at the local pub. Sara slept surprisingly well, which she put down to the fresh country air, and the time to return home came all too quickly.
“Did you get what you wanted from Uncle Mike?” Mary Perkins asked as they sped along amongst the light Sunday evening traffic. “Whatever it was you wanted.”
“Yes, I think I did.” Sara answered with unusual civility.
Mary didn’t press her daughter for more information for several minutes, but then felt the need to at least hint.
“He’s very good, my brother Mike, with young people. God knows what they see in him, but he does somehow know how to straighten things out. Don’t you find that?”
Sara smiled to herself. “Yes, he does, doesn’t he?”
“You seem happier now.”
“I think I am, mummy.”
The End
© Kenny Walters 2021