Original Spanking Art — Darcy 48: Uncle Cyril

A story with an illustration from Darcy

The weekends were always Cyril's favourite time of the weekend. Unsurprisingly, Violet, his young niece, felt differently. Since she’d come to stay with her uncle while her mother ‘got better’, which was how the family referred to her occasional visits to the rehab clinic, she had grown to dread the end of the week. On school nights she would receive the occasional spanking. But, on Friday, Cyril cleared the evening so that he might properly administer the corrective discipline a wayward young girl like Violet needed.

After dinner at 6.30 she would be sent to shower and make herself presentable, before meeting in the lounge at 7.30, hair neatly brushed, a modicum of makeup permitted and in her school uniform. Cyril would lecture her as to the dangers of drink and drugs. The lecherous desires of young men. The temptations that a girl’s own physical cravings created. All this while she squirmed and wriggled over his lap as he spanked her tender young bottom. Sometimes it would be a light spanking. At other times, like this evening, he would hit the target hard and fast. The crying and blubbering and snorting this produced, the tears and the promises from Violet, were all ignored. She hated Cyril! She hated her mother for putting her in this position. And at times she hated herself for giving in to such temptations knowing there would always be a price to pay. But how did he know? How he Uncle Cyril always know all the naughty, silly things she’d been up to?

When Cyril had worked her bottom into a state of crimson soreness, he would pause and order Violet to take her knickers down. Then while he caressed the stinging cheeks, he would remind her of the golden rule. Honesty is the best policy.

‘I know what you have been up to. I know what you have done. I know all the little secrets you think you can hold onto. I have totted them all up and arrived at a figure. The number of strokes that you should receive from Mr Whippy to clear your conscience. But as always I will offer you the chance to reduce that number if you can find it in yourself to be a good and honest young lady.’

His fingers traced the outline of the purple bruises blooming nicely in the sea of red that her flaming bottom had become. ‘So do you want the full amount, you naughty naughty thing, or do you want to come clean and make amends? Honesty leads to forgiveness and forgiveness means I will amend the punishment accordingly.’

What had she done? What was he talking about? Did he know about the cigarettes she shared with Lucy and Caroline behind the sports building? Did he know about the lipstick she had ‘lifted’ from Boots in the High Street? Did he somehow know about her letting Tim in the year above kiss her and put his fingers in her pants? She knew it was wrong but it had felt so nice? Had he heard her playing with herself while she remembered the feeling of his finger slipping inside while his tongue darted in and out of her mouth? Even now, despite the shame of being exposed and the pain from the beating, she felt herself getting turned on.

And then… ‘Oh! Uncle Cyril! D-d-don’t!’ His stroking hands had slipped from her cheeks into the cleft below, His stubby old fingers were tracing the line of her private parts. ‘Feels to me like you’ve been doing things a girl your age shouldn’t have. You’ll make a mess of my trousers you dirty little thing.’

After a few minutes of rubbing and stroking that made her even more flustered and embarrassed and wet, he pushed her off his knees onto the floor.

‘Fetch Mr Whippy and kneel.’

Violet did as she was told, and holding his preferred instrument of discipline — more like torture, she thought — she knelt in front of him.

‘Well Violet, do you have anything to say?’

‘I… I smoked cigarettes.’

‘So I believe,’ he said.

‘And I… I let a boy kiss me.’

‘Tsk tsk. You’re turning into quite the little slut aren’t you? Just like your mother. Was it just a kiss though Violet? Hmmmm?’

He knew! How could he know?

‘Well I… that’s to say he… put his hand in my… my knickers…’ Blushing furiously she looked down to the floor.

‘Eyes up Violet. Look at me. Tell me what he did exactly.’

‘He… he rubbed it and he put his fingers in me…’ She was crying again. Why had she let him! Why was she so stupid.

‘Did you like it Violet. Did it make you wet down there?’

‘I didn’t want to do it. I tried to stop him.’

‘Nonsense!’ He replied. ‘I felt you myself a minute ago and you seemed to be quite used to the experience. So that’s six extra strokes for lying.’

‘Oh Uncle. Please. I’m sorry. Yes, I liked it. I won’t let him do it again though. I p-p-promise.’

‘And what about at home, my dear. Have you anything to tell me?’

He must know! Violet was blushing so hard that the cheeks on her face very nearly matched her glowing bottom.

‘I — I played with myself.’

‘Speak up girl! Stop mumbling.’

‘I played with myself. In bed.’

‘Disgusting! How many times?’

Violet didn’t know. It was at least three or four times. Probably every evening. Terrified that he knew and that a mistake would earn her even more strokes she tried to be honest.

‘I don't know Uncle. I think every night.’

‘Every night! You have been busy. I had in mind to give you 12 strokes. But you lied about the boy. So that’s 18.’

Violet was sobbing now. Why had she lied! He always knew. He knew everything

‘And I stole! I stole a lipstick!’

‘I wondered when you’d get to that. A most serious offence. That alone would earn you 12 hard strokes. But seeing as you were honest I shall only add another 6. So that’s 24 in total. You may stand. Take off everything except your knickers, shoes and socks and kneel on the chair. This will hurt me more that it does you young lady, but it is for your own good.’

As she disrobed, Cyril congratulated himself on his methods. He had known nothing about her misdemeanours, although he had guessed the masturbation was a regular occurrence. But she always confessed and he always got to give her exactly what he wanted. A hard and merciless caning.

‘We shall begin. And afterwards I might allow you to pleasure yourself to relieve the pain. Now, spread those legs wide Violet…’

Cyril did so love the weekend.