Uncle Mathew P1

Author: Writer8322@aol.com

When Russell came to live with his Uncle Matthew he didn't know that his uncle was a gay man nor would he have cared.   He was an eight year old boy who had lost his mother and whose father (Matthew's brother) had passed away when he was only a baby.

Uncle Matthew lived in a Victorian-style house with a man that Russel called Uncle James.  The two men were very kind to the little boy when he arrived and had gone to some trouble to make him feel secure.  They had outfitted a round in their house for a child complete with a selection of books and toys.  The toys were extremely traditional: a rocking horse, large blocks, a number of jigsaw puzzles and some standard board games.  This was Russell¹s first indication that his Uncle Matthew and Uncle James were old-fashioned in their values.

Russell grew to love Uncle James but he was very much less comfortable with Uncle Matthew.  Uncle James loved to horse around with the little boy, giving him rides on his back, or cooking pancakes with him or gardening with him.  Uncle Matthew sometimes played board games with Russell but more often he liked to supervise the boy¹s schoolwork.  He also read to him at night, sitting in a big armchair by the side of the boy¹s bed reading from the classics while he puffed on his favorite pipe.  What kept Russell from developing a warm, emotional tie with Uncle Matthew was the man¹s overwhelming sternness.  Uncle Matthew did not approve of loud or wild behavior and was angry and critical when James playing with his nephew made the boy rambunctious.   Russell had heard Uncle Matthew saying to Uncle James, "Boys are naturally rambunctious and need a firm hand.   The trouble with you James is that you are too damn soft.   If Russell gets out of hand, it won't be you that brings him back in line."

"He's only a little boy, Matthew", James said piteously.  Russell noticed that Uncle James always seemed to whine when Uncle Matthew was angry at him.   Russell sometimes thought that he sounded just like Uncle James.

Russell also disliked the way Uncle Matthew held his hand, so firmly, as if he owned it, whenever they went for a walk.  Uncle Matthew also liked Russell to walk close by his side, "For safety," he always said.  Whenever they went for a walk, Uncle Matthew walked slowly and methodically, which was torture for the little boy.  When he would look up at his tall, bearded Uncle, he would see that he was always ramrod straight with his pipe smoking in his mouth. "You have to walk like a gentleman, Russell," Uncle Matthew always said, "I don't want to ever see you acting like some of the other hooligans around here."

Russell didn't have any friends outside of school, because no one came to his house and Uncle Matthew didn't approve of the boys in the neighborhood.   Once or twice Uncle Matthew's friend, Clarice Campbell came by with her son Peter.   Russell disliked Peter, because the boy was a tale-teller and spoke in a phony sweet way around the grown-ups.  When Russell and Peter were alone, however, it was another matter.  Peter was a year older than Russell and always liked to boss him around.  Once, when they were playing with Russell's blocks, and some British soldiers that Uncle James had given Russell, they argued over who was going to be the general.  Peter had gotten up off the floor and stood over Russell with his hands on his hips.  "I have a good mind to smack your bottom," Peter said.  "My mom smacks my bottom when I give her a hard time, so I think that I should smack your bottom now."

Russell stood up and braced himself for a fight, but Uncle James came in at that moment to say that Peter's mother was ready to leave.  Russell hoped that Peter and his mother would never come back.
It was hard for Russell to do all the things that Uncle Matthew expected of him.  In fact, each day it got harder.   Russell walked around as though he had cramps.   Every part of his spirit felt compressed and restrained. 

When Uncle Matthew came home from work and sat in his leather armchair to smoke his pipe and read the paper, Russell sat on the floor doing a puzzle and stared at him. Russell felt angry at Uncle Matthew.  Uncle James would have let Russell play with other boys and run around a lot more, if only Uncle Matthew would let him.  Russell watched Uncle Matthew puff on his pipe and frown  he was always so serious.  Suddenly, Russell felt as though he were going to explode.   He heard Uncle Matthew crinkle the newspaper as he turned the page and hated the sound of the crinkling paper.  He saw Uncle Matthew tamp the tobacco in his pipe before relighting it and he hated Uncle Matthew's pipe.

All at once, and without even thinking about it, Russell hit his puzzle box with the flat of his hand and sent it flying across the room.  The box's contents sailed about the room and the box itself hit one of the thin, antique tables that ornamented the living room.  A picture frame that sat on the table crashed to the floor and the glass, in the frame, shattered.

Uncle Matthew rose from his seat and pulled his pipe from his mouth.   "Why did you do that?" he demanded.
 
Russell¹s heart was pounding, but he was still too busy exploding inside to be frightened. 

"Because I felt like it," the little boy said defiantly. 

Uncle James came out of the kitchen and stood in the doorway wiping his hands with a towel.  "What was that sound?" he asked.

"That," Uncle Matthew said deliberately, "was the sound of a very naughty little boy.  A little boy who needs a lesson."

"Russell," said Uncle James, "What did you do?  Say you're sorry to your Uncle."

"No," said Russell, tears starting into his eyes, "I won't say it.   I won't say it no matter what."

"We shall see about that," said Uncle Matthew.   He strode over to his nephew and took him firmly by the hand.  "You and I will go upstairs now, Russell."

James moved forward, "Don¹t Matt...."  But he never finished.  Uncle Matthew held up his forefinger in such a threatening way, the Uncle James stopped speak, dropped his head and turned back to the kitchen.

Russell was jerked forward as Uncle Matthew began to walk him up the stairs. 

"Where are we going?" Russell said.  His explosion had finished and now he was scared.

"We are going to my bedroom," Uncle Matthew said.

"W-why?" the little boy stammered.

"Because I am going to administer a spanking," Uncle Matthew said without looking down at his nephew.

Russell pulled back, "No!" he said tearfully.   He had never been hit in his life.  "No!"
"Oh most certainly," Uncle Matthew said, bringing the boy up to the second floor landing and striding down the hall, the boy struggling a bit now.  "Little boys who lose their temper soon find themselves being smacked on their bottoms."

Uncle Matthew opened his bedroom door, took Russell in and closed the door again.  He moved to a desk at one corner of the room and pulled the chair out.   He turned the chair around and sat down in it holding the little boy in front of him.   Then he picked Russell up and sat him on one of his large knees.  He did not take his pipe from his mouth and smoke filled the little boy's eyes and throat. 

"Your mother was too soft with you, young man, but I am not soft!  When your father was your age, and I was six years older, I often found it necessary to chastise him, and now I will not shrink from chastising you in the same manner.  I know how to handle boys, even if you mother didn't."

"Oh, don't Uncle Matthew," Russell pleaded, tears falling down his cheeks.  "I'll be good.  I'll never lose my temper again."

Uncle Matthew laughed.  "Don't be silly, boy, of course you will.  That¹s just the way it is.   Boys cannot help getting up to mischief and so they have to be spanked by their uncles or other adults who care for them.  A good spanking benefits a boy tremendously and I expect to have to put you in my lap fairly regularly."

Uncle Matthew lifted Russell from his knee and slowly, holding the boy off the ground, lowered him into his lap.  The boy was small and really could have been spanked over one knee.  As it was, his legs stuck straight out at one side and his arms at the other.

Uncle Matthew took hold of the elastic waist band of Russell¹s short pants and pulled them down.   They began to slide over Russell's bottom.  The boy, who had always been very modest, howled in horror, but his Uncle's arm forced him firmly down inot his lap and he could only kick his feet to express his distress.

Inexorably, Russell's brief-covered bottom was laid bare,but Uncle Matthew did not stop at that.  He kept pulling the boy's pants downwards until he had them all the way at Russell's ankles.  Then he took hold of the elastic band of Russell's underpants.

"Oh please, Uncle Matthew, please don't!" Russell begged.

"Next time, you may remember to control your unruly temper," Uncle Matthew scolded, and he took down his nephew's underpants completely exposing the boy's small, round bottom.

Russell was sobbing now and trembling, but his Uncle was very determined to teach the boy a lesson.   "It¹s no use carrying on like that," Uncle Matthew said sternly.  "You will be spanked and you will be spanked many times in the future."

Russell howled and thrashed as much as he was able.  Clouds of pipe tobacco filled the air as Uncle Matthew lifted his large hand over his shoulder and brought it down with a resounding CRACK! across his nephew's backside.

Russell let out an ear-splitting wail of pain and cried out, "Oooow, Uncle Matthew, don't, don't spank me!  Please."

CRACK!  His Uncle leathery hand walloped him again and Russell cried and wriggled under his Uncle's firm grip.

CRACK!  Again the hand descended and Russell's boyish bottom began to turn blotchy, the skin suffused with color.
CRACK!

"Waaaaaah!" Russell wailed, his mouth going round.

Uncle Matthew paused and rolled up the sleeve of the arm he was spanking with.  He seemed to feel that the material was an impediment to task at hand.  When the sleeve was properly rolled up to his bicep, he again raised his open palm.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Lying across his Uncle knees, Russell experienced his first spanking.  The pain was horrible, but even more horrible was the feeling that his body was not his own to control.  Uncle Matthew contolled it.  He held it on his lap and spanked it all he wanted.   It was like the hand-holding when they walked on the street, but much, much worse.

On and on the awful spanking went, until Russell's behind was just a mass of burning pain and he had cried himself almost hoarse.

Then it was over and Uncle Matthew stood him up and sat him again, on his knee.

"Oooow," cried Russell, as his well-spanked bottom came in contact with his Uncle's wool pants.

"None of that," Uncle Matthew threatened.  "Or you will have another trip over Uncle Matthew lap with a hairbrush applied to your naughty fanny this time."
Russell tried not to squirm.

"You have been well-spanked, Russell, but not as well-spanked as you might be, undoubtedly will be, another time.  I hope it has taught you a lesson.   Has it?"

Russell continued blubbering, but retained enough of his mind to blubber, "Yes."  He didn't want to be upended again.

"I'm sure it has for now, but boys will be boys and men must do their duty.  You must resign yourself to the fact that as a boy you are bound to misbehave and I, as your gaurdian, will be bound to punish you.  In this house, punishment is a good spanking on the bare bottom.  I will probably not be the only grown up who must punish you this way.   I will instruct Mrs. Cooper (she was the Housekeeper) that she may spank you when she sees fit, and I will give her a hairbrush for that purpose.  It would not be right for her to use her hand on a boy's bottom, bared for spanking."

Russell wept bitterly.   Was this what his life had come to?

Uncle Matthew lifted the boy from his knee and took off his pants and underpants.  "Come, Russell, I'm going to give you a bath and then you may have your supper."

So saying, he took the boy's hand and lead him bare-bottomed and bare-limbed to the bathroom.  The boy sobbed piteously all the way, but only Uncle Matthew heard him.

(to be continued)