From Roué 38
Distraught she looks, and distraught she is entitled to look; for Sonia has just spent a rather distressing ten minutes over her Uncle Jack’s knee. Such events are fairly common on her much-hated weekly visits to her father’s widowed brother. Things as seemingly trivial as taking an opposing stance in a conversation is likely to be enough to prompt the man into action. Of course, a spanking for something as petty as that would result in the girl getting no more than half-a-dozen or so smart slaps to the backs of her legs. More serious faults — such as swearing or any sort of impoliteness — would mean a dozen or more crisp smacks to the seat of her knickers. Anything more grave than that — such as today’s little transgression (having a nip of the man’s gin when she thought he wasn’t looking) — called for far sterner measures.
Sonia knew that these ‘sterner measures’ would be resorted to the very moment she’d been caught. ‘You know what to do,’ he’d said, and, indeed, she did. Nonetheless, she hesitated, hoping against hope that it wasn’t to be ‘the ultimate’. His face took on a grim appearance as he eyed the wavering girl, and she knew for certain what was expected of her.
She kicked off her sandals — this untidy act being greeted with a disapproving look from the man — then began to unbutton her tight faded denims. These she wriggled out of and folded them up nice and neatly. Her eyes rose to meet his, and she inserted her hands under her tights. These came down, and were followed by her skimpy bikini-briefs, and the garments were put on top of her jeans.
She stood before him, head bowed and hands crossed in front of her. He had by now seated himself in his favourite chair (the one with no arms, and which, he said, was ‘made for spanking’), and beckoned the girl to go to him.
Awkwardly, she laid herself over his lap, her bottom being positioned by the man so that it was at its most prominent. Her blouse — as always happened when her uncle got her into just the right posture — had fluttered down towards her shoulders, making her breasts in front as naked as her bum at the back. It was inevitable that her pert young titties would get an airing, as the unavoidable wriggling about on his lap never failed to unhook each button from its buttonhole. In any case, Sonia mused, if she was bare of bottom — and who knows where else? — she might as well be bare of bosom. He’d seen it all before, anyway.
The spanking was an exceptionally hard one. Sonia’s Uncle Jack only ever used his hand, but, boy! he didn’t need to employ any implement. His bare palm could — and on many occasions did — hurt more than her mum’s hairbrush or her dad’s army belt.
She had no idea how many he gave her. She attempted to keep count, but as was always the case lost her adding-up after a mere minute or so. He would spank away in a steady rhythm only to suddenly speed up and land four or five with barely a pause between them.
He, too, was unaware how many smacks he’d administered to his niece’s naked bottom. His intention was to make it a ten minute hiding, and he stuck to his design; keeping an eye on his fob-watch every now and then.
After nine minutes he set about attending to the untouched areas of her pretty rear, the entire teenage bottom being covered in a pinkish, blotchy hue by the time that final minute was over.Sonia fell from her perch and knelt on the carpet, sobbing and contorting her face. Her legs, too, twisted first this way then that, as she tried to rid herself of the sting in her bottom. These movements made her little breasts wobble, her bottom-cheeks part, and put on display other — more private — areas. Uncle Jack was, however, too much of a gentleman to notice any of this. He was taking a large draught of what little gin the girl had left him.