I've always known my sister and only sibling Susan was a bit crazy, but it wasn't until she split up with her husband of many years that it became a clinical fact. And I, the responsible, perhaps noble adult that I am, offered to take care of her thirteen year old son Julian, a first class brat, while she was undergoing treatment. I say brat without qualification. The child is spoiled, overmothered and underdisciplined, and has been fed a diet of flattering half truths. Cute as he is, I already felt I knew him too well from our occasional family get togethers.
Once my nephew arrived in my small bachelor domain I had no peace or privacy. I had to deal with loud music, sulking, tantrums, and his curious mind and fingers were into everything save what I had under lock and key. My whole lifestyle had to be constrained for his sake.
My patience however, has its limits. Towards the end of his first week with me I discovered that my petty cash stash was empty, and Julian not only lacked his usual appetite at dinner but also seemed to have a number of new tapes for his ghetto blaster. I questioned him about it. At first he acted as if was none of my business and would admit nothing, then he folded his arms and pretended to ignore me. Finally with my temper and voice rising he blurted, "So what if I did?" I told him I would not tolerate stealing. Impertinently he replied, "What are you going to do about it?" I hadn't thought about that, any other guest I could simply throw out - but not Julian.
"You will have to be punished." I stated firmly.
He looked at me insolently, "Well, what are you going to do? Ground me? No TV for a week?" He must have known these were impractical options given my small pad and busy life. "Or spank me?" he added with a smirk. I told him quite truthfully that I didn't believe in corporal punishment, although I could see changing my mind. "Well," he went on knowingly, "how come you have a strap?"
"I assure you it's not for punishing naughty boys." He was a more thorough snoop than I realized, I thought the toy I occasionally use in adult games with other men had been cleverly concealed. Then my thoughts took an inspired, cruel twist. "You're going to give me an hour's peace." I told him. There was a brief struggle but I soon had him seated in the large armchair with wide duct tape tying his ankles to its legs and his wrists to its arms with another piece over his eyes. He didn't like it one little bit. "If you make any noise, or say one word, I'll put tape over your mouth as well." I was very pleased with my solution, sensory deprivation, boredom is such an insidious torture for boisterous boys. I looked forward to some uninterrupted reading.
Less than seven minutes later he asked if the hour was up yet. I ignored him. Two minutes later he repeated the question and I told him to shut up or else. After another couple of minutes he protested it wasn't fair and called me a "mean old man". I resisted the temptation to smack him and told him he was lucky it was only for an hour. I was delighted with the apparent effectiveness of the punishment. He sulked for a while and then grumbled, "I never heard of kids having this done to them before." I unwound more tape for his mouth and I'm sure he heard. "Like I thought if you found out that maybe I'd get spanked."
"Aha!" I thought, and things gelled in my mind. He must have known I'd find out. I decided to play it for what it was worth and asked Julian, "Well, would you sooner be spanked, spanked good and hard til you're red and sore?"
"No, no.... It's just...." The boy was silent for a moment. "Like one time me and another boy took turns belting each other on the bum to see who'd get the last piece of cake."
"Did you enjoy it? the cake I mean." I inquired sarcastically. I could see him blushing.
"Well it's just that I don't like....nothing."
"Well," I told him smugly, "I don't like interruptions. It's only been fifteen minutes. I'm going to tape your mouth shut, and we'll start the hour All over again."
"No. Please. Don't. I'll do any...."
Pity overcame me. "Look, I know you've suffered already, perhaps not enough, but if you promise to never steal from me again I'm prepared to forgive you. That would be the end of it."
"Sure, I promise." He didn't sound particularly sincere.
I carefully removed the tape from his eyes. "And if you wish," I informed him, "you can bring me the strap and I'll give you a spanking, a good one, just for 'fun' let us say, but not as punishment for what you did." Julian looked at me uncertainly and I could tell he was excited as I unbound him. For the first time ever he hugged me. "Well?" I exclaimed, "It's up to you." A smile flickered on his lips, then he bounded over to the closet where beneath some heavy boxes of books he retrieved my black leather strap and trembling noticeably presented it to me. I told him it should be oiled first to make it more pliable so it would sting more. I wanted him to know the strap intimately. I kept him at it almost five minutes diligently rubbing it with his small dextrous fingers, and he kept glancing up at me in nervous expectation. His tension built up. When I was satisfied I had him try it out on an upholstered chair until with coaching he'd achieved a certain smartness with his strokes and knew the power of its blows. "Works pretty good eh?" I said affectionately ruffling his hair and taking the strap. "You still want it?"
Julian looked at me hesitantly. I shrugged. "OK," he nodded and bent over the upholstered chair. "D'you want me to pull them down?" he mumbled fumbling with his jeans.
"No." I replied. "I want you to stand facing me and hold out your hand.
"But I thought...." I looked at him sternly and after a second he held out a hand. I made a point of examining it briefly before laying on four hard stinging blows into his palm. They hurt but didn't really faze him.
"Let's see the other hand." I insisted and watching Julian's reactions closely I laid on four more hard ones. The hand strapping had begun to push him, his eyes were moist, but he still had fortitude in reserve, and I suspect, felt a bit cheated. "Now if you wish," I continued, "you can bend over the chair, pull everything down, and we'll make it an even sixteen."
"Another eight? And on the bare ass?" Julian looked at his red pain seared palms. Anger whelmed through his tears, "You're a fucking bastard."
"You're free to quit anytime." I said matter of factly.
He understood it was not "just for 'fun'", it was a test. A determined look came over his face; he bared his slender buttocks and bent over the chair. I decided to space the blows so he could savour his anguish better. His bum began to blossom with crimson welts but he took the first few blows in stride. Then his grit began to erode, he began to whimper after the sixth and the last took him to his limit. He sobbed openly. But knowing he'd made it, he was soon more or less composed, and when I told him how proud of him I was, he hugged me uninhibitedly and I kissed him on the cheek. We celebrated with pizza and Pepsis and watched the late movie, a John Wayne western he enjoyed.
His mother soon recovered but my nephew visits me most weekends, impertinent still but not a brat. On rare occasions he oils the strap to hint he wants a spanking, there usually milder now except when he wields it on me.