Author's Note. Thank you to those few people who have praised my work, and encouraged me to carry on. It is much appreciated. New readers are advised to read the story from the beginning. For old hands, here is a quick summary.
Colin, a retired civil servant, has inherited a guest house in Margate, Kent, England. Colin likes running the business and meeting guests, but finds their children are unruly. After a few months he buys some disciplinary tools, and puts them in the rooms so that guests are encouraged to control their offspring. The result is dramatic, business booms, the kids are much better behaved, and Colin is worked off his feet. Most week's, the guests not only beat their own kids, but grant spanking privileges to each other. This ensures that no mischief goes unpunished.
Then Colin's 16 year old nephew (Mark) arrives, having been thrown out by his mum. Colin agrees to employ the boy on condition he attends private lessons, and accepts corporal punishment. Mark is spanked by Colin within an hour of arrival, then caned by one of the guests after dinner.
Now, on with the next
The nearest shower was one floor down, on a landing with three guest bedrooms. The guests were all fast asleep, Mark crept quietly into the shower and washed as thoroughly as he could. The hot water was so relaxing, Mark felt totally refreshed. He tended to the rest of his ablutions, and dressed cheerfully in the clean clothes which had been bought for him. Colin had insisted upon clean clothes every day, and had bought enough sets to allow for laundering. For general duties he had a red t-shirt and bermuda length shorts, with grey ankle socks and brown leather sandals.
As he dressed, Mark studied the schoolboy uniform which was next in his wardrobe. He knew that later today he was to meet the tutor, and have his first lesson. Mark had not enjoyed school much, but then school was not at all like what he was expecting. None of those teachers had made him wear short trousers, or used a cane on him. Mark felt as apprehensive as a five year old, going to school for his first day. But that was later, first he had to pass inspection.
Colin was waiting in the kitchen when Mark entered at 6:58am.
"Good Morning, Mark" he smiled.
"Good Morning, Uncle" Mark replied. He wanted to hug his uncle, but did not know how Colin might react. Instead, he stood smartly at attention.
"Very good" Colin praised as he walked round the boy in red. "Hold your hands out"
Mark raised his hand, palms up.
"Good, turn them over"
"Excellent" Colin announced. "Now, drop your shorts, please"
"What, Why?" Colin was astounded.
"I need to check your underwear is clean"
Mark did as he was told. His red shorts fell to his knees, and then Colin lifted up his red t-shirt to armpit height. Mark was wearing white briefs, clean on, and his white vest was tucked in neatly. Colin slapped the left buttock, sharply but not hard.
"OK, get dressed." Colin smiled. "You'll do"
Mark retrieved his shorts with some relief.
Colin had briefed the boy on his morning duties, and Mark found the work enjoyable. He quickly moved tables to suit the number of guests, putting the appropriate number of chairs and place settings to match family units. Each table had the guest's room number, and a small floral display, and condiments in the centre. Mark put out cereals, milk, fruit juices, and fresh fruit on the self-serve table, then went into the kitchen for his own breakfast.
"Finished, Sir" Mark proudly announced. He was at work now, and 'Uncle' was not permitted.
"OK, let's check it" Colin swept into the dining room, and his experienced eyes scanned the room.
"Table 4, chairs not straight" "Table 6, one spoon missing" "Table 7, flowers not in the centre" "Table 9, set for 3, but there are 4 guests" "Quite good, but it needs to be perfect, put them items correct, and then report to me in the alcove"
"Yes, sir" Mark was a little disappointed that he had made some mistakes, but was looking forward to his own breakfast, the smell of which was filling the kitchen.
"All done, Sir" Mark bounced into the alcove, ready to eat.
"Good, but there are four errors to address, let down your shorts"
"Oh, Sir, it was quite good, for my first day."
"True, and if I let you off, it will only ever be quite good, not drop them or I'll double the dose."
Mark let his shorts down, and stood once more in his underpants in the kitchen.
"Bend over your chair, and stay there for four strokes."
The boy leaned over the back, and put his head onto the seat of the chair.
Whap! Ouch! Colin used a narrow leather strap to heat the boy's seat.
Whap! Ouch! It sure stung.
Whap! Ouch! But it didn't hurt as much as the cane.
Whap! Ouch! Mark was glad it was over. He rose quickly.
"OK, get dressed." Colin grinned as the boy furiously rubbed his hot bum.
Mark retrieved his shorts with some relief.
Breakfast tasted good, and Mark quickly forgot the stinging in his buttocks. That was the beauty of the narrow strap, although it hurts at the time, it quickly fades. Colin had chosen it for just that reason, he didn't want the boy brooding all day for a minor mistake in the morning, and he might have to apply it again soon.
By the time Mark commenced work in the dining room, his bottom was no longer stinging. He actually felt good about his strapping, he accepted that Colin was right, he should have been more careful, and now that he had a reason – he would be.
Breakfast passed off quite peacefully, there were nine families in residence, each with two or three children, though some were mere babies. Mark saw the little boy who had had his leg slapped the night before, the leg was covered in blue bruising, but the boy was not bothered either by the soreness or the display.
The girl who had been caned for taking toast to her room was also there. She sat smartly at the table and announced that she had finished; being sure to tuck the chair under before walking out, this time empty-handed.
None of the children spoke much, and they all walked calmly to and from the self-serve table, taking extra care not to spill any milk from their cereal bowls. Despite this, there was an atmosphere of anticipation. Mark guessed, correctly, that breakfast had been the scene of many spankings on the previous two mornings. In fact, every child had been on the receiving end of a good smacking whilst in this room, on at least one of the days since they had arrived. Some had had it every day. William from table 6, aged nine, had been spanked by Mr Winston (table 4) on Sunday, Mrs Valiant (table 7) on Monday, and by his mum yesterday. On each occasion the spanker had moved a chair to the centre of the room, pulled down his shorts and underpants, then put him over their knee. Mr Winston had used his hand to slap William ten times across both cheeks, for knocking his seat when he went by to get cereal, which had caused the man to spill milk from his spoon. Mrs Valiant had used a small wooden paddle from her handbag to roast his bum because he was talking too loudly. And his mum had applied a leather paddle to his rump because he was taking too long to choose his cereal, holding up the queue of others. William had not counted how many slaps he had received, but the other kids had observed 20 from Mrs Valiant, her standard dose, and 25 from his mum. They didn't know if this was her regular quantity yet, as she had only spanked William. Mrs Valiant, however, had administered a spanking to every boy aged over seven, and to three of the eligible girls. Babies under 2 were not to be spanked.
William was, understandably, being very careful this morning. All of the children had left the dining room, and gone to the playroom, leaving only the adults. The eighteen assembled guests were enjoying an extra cup of coffee, reading the newspapers, and watching Mark's every step as he collected the used dishes. Mark stacked the dishwasher, aware that he was being observed. He had been introduced to them all last night, Colin had stated that he was to be treated like any of the other children, and Mark had been caned by one of the guests already. This, however, had not been witnessed by any other adults. The predators were studying their fresh meat. Who was going to take first bite?
Eventually Mark had removed all of the plates and bowls. He started on the empty cups.
"You stupid boy, I haven't finished with that" Mrs Valiant called after him.
"But it's empty ma'am" Mark looked into the cup.
"No it wasn't" she snapped "there is at least one more mouthful"
"It's cold" Mark stared at her.
"Don't be impertinent boy. I like my coffee cool."
"Sorry, Ma'am" Mark went to put the cup back.
"Put your hands on your head"
"So that I can let down your shorts"
"So that I can spank you"
"Taking my cup before I had finished, and arguing with me"
Mark looked at Colin, who had come to the kitchen door.
"Go on, lad, it will do you good" He condemned the boy. "Think of it as penance for all the grief you have caused your Mum over the past couple of years."
Somewhere, deep down, Mark knew that he deserved a good hiding. He had been very bad company, and now with Colin's regime, he saw the error of his old ways. But Mark was not comfortable with a public thrashing by a stranger. He wished Colin was giving him his cleansing ordeal. Finally, he determined, perhaps he did need to be spanked by a woman, a mother-figure.
Mark reluctantly raised his hands out of the way. Mrs Valiant had swung her chair round, and was seated in a little clearing in the centre of the room. The remaining adults shuffled round to get a good view.
She unclipped and lowered his new red shorts. For the third time that morning the garment was hanging about his knees. But this time things went further. Mrs Valiant hooked her thumbs into his white briefs. Mark's reaction was instant.
"No way. You can't." He grabbed the elastic of his underpants.
"Mark, let go" Colin boomed.
The boy looked at his uncle, tears already in his eyes.
"You'll soon get used to it, now let go, or I will pull them down, and cane you afterwards." Colin spoke more softly, but Mark knew that he would do it.
Mark moved his hands away from his sides. The pants were rolled down his thighs to his knees. Mark felt so humiliated. Standing there with his bottom and genitals exposed to nineteen adults. Mark's penis, never really large when limp, shrunk even smaller. His pubic hairs, quite scarce, did not help at all, he looked more like a twelve year old than sixteen. The watching audience noted with glee the six vivid lines from last night's caning, they were complimented by the deep bruising from yesterday's spanking, and highlighted by the red glow from this morning's strap. Mark's legs also showed slight traces of the wooden spoon which had been applied with such stinging effect.
Mrs Valiant, however, was still not content with the preparations. She took hold of Mark's white vest, and folded it up over his T-shirt to his armpits. His upper garments were now gathered like a spare tyre around his chest, the boy was naked from belly-button to knees. The wicked woman turned the boy round so that she could tuck his shirt into the inverted vest at the rear. It had the effect of ensuring that the whole room had a clear view of his most private parts. Mark thought he could never look anybody in the face again. Totally humiliated, he just stood, compliantly holding his arms away from his sides, staring at the floor, on the verge of tears.
After a few moments, when the crowd had had it's fill, Mrs Valiant turned the boy again, so that now he stood between her thighs, facing her left leg. She tipped the boy over her left knee, then crossed her ankles and squeezed her thighs together. The wooden paddle swiftly appeared, from under a newspaper on the table.
WHAP. It stung.
"Ouch" Mark yelped. He cried at once, tears flowed in constant stream down both cheeks.
WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP. Mrs Valiant set a brisk pace. She raised the paddle to about shoulder height and brought it down on alternate cheeks, not particularly forcefully, but rapid spanks on the same patch of skin. Mark found it a very effective method of punishment.
"Storrp" he wailed, and reached back with his right hand to try to cover his already delicate buttocks.
Mrs Valiant, an experienced spanker, was expecting this. She caught the arm by the wrist and twisted it suddenly up Mark's back. Pressing down on the twisted arm, Mark was pinned. His legs were caught in the grip of this woman's thigh's, his right arm painfully trapped behind his back, and his left arm uselessly flapping around the woman's waist.
WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP. On she went, relentless, applying smack after smack onto Mark's poor bottom.
"For God's sake, please" Mark gasped, hardly coherent. The heat in his bottom was like nothing he had experienced ever before. Mark tensed, wriggled, squirmed, and wept.
WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP, WHAP. Finally the boy was broken, he lay limp, sobbing uncontrollably, his face a mess of saliva, snot, tears, sweat.
Finally Mrs Valiant stopped. She put down the paddle, and rubbed her hand over the crimson buttocks on her lap. The heat was intense, she was quite surprised at how hot the boy's bottom felt. For a moment she felt guilty, but quickly recovered.
"There, there," she soothed. "It's all over now".
Mark wept into the carpet. He sobbed and shook, sixteen years of mischief had been erased, and his attitude adjusted. Wave after wave of emotion flowed through his aching body. Meanwhile Mrs Valiant gasped, rested, realised just how exhausted she was. Not only the smacking, but gripping the lad had worn her out.
"Come here" she said softly as she lifted the boy onto her right thigh, and cradled his head into her bosom. Mark flung both arms around the old dragon, and hugged tightly. They sat embraced for a few minutes, and the sobs stopped.
"Thank you, Ma-am" Mark whispered with conviction.
"That's quite all right, Mark" she smiled "Glad to be of help"
Mark raised his head and kissed her lips, a little boy peck.
"Now, Do you remember that I told you to put hands on head, so that I could drop your shorts"
"And did you?"
"Well, now you can. 10 minutes in the corner will finish the matter, don't you think?"
"Yes, Ma-am" Mark stood, wobbled, and hobbled into the corner by the kitchen door.
Mark looked like a Barber's pole, with his red t-shirt, white vest, red bottom, white pants, red shorts, white calves. The dark hair and dark socks mimicking the brackets.
The assembled audience started to drift away. They had seen what they had come for, and were satisfied. A few harboured thoughts of their own turn at that muscular bottom, but all felt that he had had enough for one day.
When there was only Colin and Mrs Valiant left, Colin spoke.
"Would you like some fresh coffee?"
"Yes please," Mrs Valiant smiled "Hot, black, no sugar"
Colin served her coffee and sat down with a cup for himself, They both looked at Mark's glowing buttocks.
"You sure did a thorough job, Mrs Valiant, have you had much practise?"
"Me?, Oh yes. I had four brothers, all younger than me, and my Mum died when I was Twelve. I brought them up, and still keep an eye on the youngest. He's nineteen, but knows what to expect if he steps out of line."
"Oh, he's not with you now, though"
"No, he couldn't get the time off work, but he would have loved to have come with us. He is only allowed one week in the summer."
"Why is that?"
"He's an apprentice jockey, and the flat racing season is at it's peak."
"You're here for a fortnight, aren't you?"
"Yes, that's right"
"A pity, I haven't got any more adult spaces for next week, otherwise he could have come for just next week"
"Oh no, he's not an adult yet. We treat him like a child. Besides, he's only four feet tall."
"Well, there's a rather large cot in the basement, I can have it put in your room if you like."
"Excellent, I'll tell him to come on Saturday. Of course, I'll have to get him some nappies"
They both laughed loudly.
Mark knew it was not a joke.
"Turn round, Mark" Mrs Valiant used his name for the first time. Mark did so, keeping his hands on his head, even though they ached. He had been in the corner for ten minutes by now.
"I think it's time you went about your duties" she continued, and beckoned Mark with a finger. The boy shuffled over to her.
"Let's get you dressed again" Mrs Valiant added as she rolled Mark's vest down, and then pulled up his white underpants. Mark felt like a four year old, having a woman tuck his vest into his pants for him.
"Now you try to be a good boy" she spoke softly as she rolled his red T-shirt down, and pulled up his red shorts.
"Yes Ma-am" Mark felt somehow comforted by this act of motherly forgiveness. Mrs Valiant buckled up his shorts, and then looked at the repentant teenager.
"OK, hands down. Now go and wash your face, then come and show me"
"Thank you Ma-am" Mark was genuinely happy. He felt loved, cleansed, cared for.
When he returned a few minutes later, looking scrubbed, both Mrs Valiant and Colin were impressed. Mark walked smartly into the dining room and stood to attention at the side of the table. He did not speak.
Mrs Valiant stood up and looked into Mark's ear. "Good boy" she muttered and gave him a pat on his bottom. Then she went up to her room.
"Right, Mark" Colin spoke "I'll do the kitchen, you clean the stairs. Be sure to have it all finished by lunch-time. Dismissed."
"Yes, Sir" Mark
said as he headed for the cleaning cupboard.
Back to Issue 26
Back to All the Stories