My Uncle Greg
My Uncle, Greg, decided to go
hunting one Saturday and I had the misfortune of going with him.
I hate to hunt and my dissatisfaction with the entire affair was
quite clear as I trudged through the muddy fields disinterested
and half-heartedly holding my gun.
I stumbled, dropped my gun and it went off. Fortunately, no
one was hurt, but the look on my Uncle's face told me that I'd
wish I had been the victim of the blast.
He stopped in front of me, looked me squarely in the eye.
He checked the safety on his own gun and set it against a
tree. He picked mine up and replaced the safety on it and
put it with his own.
He took my arm and pressed me against the nearest tree.
Standing behind me, I heard the slithering of his leather (true
leather) belt as he pulled it from the loops of his pants.
He pulled my hands around, looped the belt and secured me against
the tree.
Fumbling with my jeans, he loosened them and pulled them down
around my ankles, leaving my bare ass exposed.
He ran a hand over my right cheek, something that I thought was
odd, considering his proposed anger. Before I could think
about anything further, I heard the crisp snap of a wood and
almost instantly afterwards felt the first sting of a thin switch
across my naked ass.
I jerked hard against my bonds and bit my lip. I was 23 and
damned if I was going to cry out like a baby. It had all
happened so quickly I was still a bit stunned as to how. My
Uncle Greg was an Army Drill Sgt. and not used to taking
"crap", so as I thought about it, maybe it wasn't so
odd after all.
The thought died in my head as another sharp pain shot through
me...again and again..again...finally as the tenth, eleventh,
fifteenth stripe decorated my ass, I was screaming for him to
stop, rubbing my wrists raw against the belt.
Then, it happened...I shot my hot load all over the tree in front
of me...and I hadn't even noticed how hot the whole thing was or
how turned on I was by the whole thing.
Tears streamed down my face as my tough-as-nails Uncle came up
behind me and pressed a warm hand firmly on my stinging, aching
ass. It was meant to intensify the heat already
there...which it did...to my delight.
He then pressed himself against me and I felt he hardness in his
pants in the crease of my smarting ass.
"That hurt you more than it did me." He said.
Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was smiling. He
turned, gathered the guns and made his way back to the truck. An
hour and a half, he came back, repeated his discipline and took
me home.
I've never hunted with him ever but I find NEW ways to get into
trouble with my Uncle Greg, even at 25 years old, he stripes my
ass every time!