Subject: New Story: Her Favorite Uncle (M/f, teen schoolgirl, nc, no sex)
From: Kent Stoneking <kentls001@worldnet.att.net>
Date: 27 Mar 1999 23:45:21 GMT
Guess this is what you call "Variations on a theme" ... a while back, Mija posted a story called "The Marks She Earned" about a student who falsifies the death of a close relative to avoid failing classes and gets found out. Then Tasha posted a r/l account of a roleplay using the same theme. Now here I come with my take on the subject!
So, a double thank-you to Mija: first for inspiring the story in the first place, and secondly for giving her permission for me to post it.
* * *
In the quiet classroom, twenty identically dressed teenage girls worked diligently, scribbling at essays based on the question scrawled on the chalkboard. A teacher paced the room, tapping a ruler against one open palm, vigilant against straying eyes or passed notes.
A sharp knock sounded on the classroom door, opened by the teacher to reveal another pupil, on office duty for the day. She handed the teacher a folded slip of paper, curtseyed, then strode determinedly off down the hall.
Unfolding and hastily scanning the note, the teacher made an announcement. "Roberta Callahan?" A dark-haired, dark-eyed girl looked up. "Please report to Mr. Bonham's office immediately. You have a visitor."
"But my essay -" she protested, a frown wrinkling her brow.
"See me after class. I'll give you additional time to finish."
The girl stood quickly, straightening her navy-blue sweater and smoothing her pleated plaid skirt, and left the classroom. She heard some titters behind her, silenced by the teacher remarking "Only Ms. Callahan may turn her essay in late, so I suggest the rest of you tend to business."
Roberta - or, Robbie, as her friends called her - felt vaguely apprehensive as she walked quickly through the quiet halls toward the principal's office. Visitors were rare - especially at midterm. Who could it be? She had no idea.
Entering the office, she attracted the attention of the receptionist. "Excuse me? Roberta Callahan. I have a visitor?"
"He's waiting in Mr. Bonham's office," came the reply. "They're expecting you."
Visitors usually waited in the reception area. Why was Mr. Bonham interested in this one? Robbie's apprehension grew as she faced the massive wooden door of the principal's office. She gave the requisite single knock, waited for the familiar "Enter!" from within, opened the door, and went in.
The small inner office was dominated by a massive mahogany desk, behind which sat the rotund form of Mr. Bonham. A taller, much slenderer man, wearing a slate gray sportcoat and slacks, occupied one of the visitor's chairs. He stood and faced the girl as she came in. For a moment, Robbie couldn't place the visitor; then recognition dawned. "Uncle Rob!" she shouted, rushing to embrace him.
Uncle Rob! Her father's older brother, for whom she'd been named. She'd always been his favorite niece, and he, her favorite uncle. Never mind that they were each other's only uncle and niece. Last she'd heard, he was on the opposite coast. She flung her arms around his waist, nestling her head on his shoulder. "Uncle Rob, it's so good to see you!" she gushed.
Strangely, he didn't return her hug. His body felt rigid, tense. After a few seconds, he said, "Guess I look pretty good for a corpse, eh?"
A corpse? She looked up at him, her confusion evident. "What do you mean, Uncle Rob?"
Mr. Bonham spoke up. "I believe what he means, Ms. Callahan, is that, very recently, you told your instructors you were unable to complete several term papers on time because you were distraught over the untimely and tragic death of your favorite uncle." His voice dripped sarcasm.
Now Robbie remembered. Last term, she'd procrastinated too much in a few of her less-interesting subjects and found herself unable to complete the required work. Faced with several failing grades, she concocted the story of Uncle Rob's demise. Her instructors, sympathetic to her plight, all granted extensions. She'd asked them to keep her grief private, but, inevitably, the word got back to Mr. Bonham.
Of course, when Robbie invented that excuse, she never dreamed Uncle Rob would show up some day ...
Mr. Bonham rose from behind his desk. "I imagine the two of you have a few things to discuss, so I'll leave you alone for a bit. And, Mr. Callahan? You might find what's in here to be of assistance," he said, a sardonic grin on his lips, indicating a small cupboard in one corner of the office. Robbie blushed as Mr. Bonham left the room. She knew, all too well, the contents of that particular cupboard.
Uncle Rob stood regarding his niece for a few moments. Robbie felt uncomfortable under his gaze. Finally, he said, "Would you like to sit down?"
She shook her head. "Maybe you'd better, while you still can." She swallowed hard at this pronouncement; favorite niece or not, Uncle Rob never hesitated to discipline her when he felt she needed it. She'd hoped she was too old for his usual method; evidently he felt otherwise.
Robbie sat in one of the chairs across from Mr. Bonham's desk. Uncle Rob pulled the other one around to face her. She couldn't meet his gaze. Instead, she played with the pleats on her skirt, reached down to straighten one of her navy blue knee socks. The room felt suddenly hot, her school tie tighter than usual around her neck; she could barely breath.
Uncle Rob broke the silence. "Robbie ... what's going on?"
She couldn't answer him.
"Robbie, please. Talk to me."
More silence. Sighing heavily, he continued. "Mr. Bonham told me that you'd gotten three incompletes last term, and that you told your instructors you couldn't do the work because you were upset over my death. Is that true?" A long pause, then she nodded.
"You know I didn't die, Robbie. So you made that up to avoid failing the classes?" Another nod.
"Why didn't you do the papers, Robbie?" No answer. "Were the classes too hard? Were you carrying too heavy of a load? Weren't you able to keep up -"
The words erupted before she could stop them. "I just didn't do them, okay? I got lazy and I didn't have time to finish everything! Is that what you want to hear? I just didn't do them!" She leapt out of her chair and walked over to the window, fighting back her tears.
She was so upset, she didn't realize he'd moved up behind her until she felt his hands on her shoulders. "Robbie, please. I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here. I don't want to punish you unless you really deserve it -"
"Well, I do, okay?" She pulled away from him. "I'm a rotten, terrible person, and you hate me, so just spank me and get it over with."
The room was quiet for several moments after her outburst. Turning back, she saw him staring out the window. Feeling her gaze on him, he said quietly, "I don't hate you, Robbie. But as for being a rotten, terrible person ... I don't know. I feel like ... like I don't know you at all, anymore."
That wasn't the response she was expecting. "What - what makes you say that, Uncle Rob?"
"You always used to be so happy to see me. But, we barely spent any time together when you were home last Christmas. You didn't answer my last two letters. And then I come here and find ... this." He faced her again. "I knew things would change between us as you got older, but I hoped I'd always be part of your life." He turned back to the window. "Other than an excuse for not doing your homework, that is."
For the first time, Robbie saw how deeply wounded her uncle was. Her anger dissipated instantly. She ran to embrace him again. "I'm s-sorry, Uncle R-rob, I'm s-so sorry!" she choked out, losing control of her tear ducts. This time, he returned her hug. His arms held her close as he stood silently, rocking from foot to foot, letting her cry against his shoulder, for several minutes. When her sobs quieted, he asked, "Feeling better?"
She nodded. "Ready to talk now?"
Another nod. He guided her back to the chairs, giving her his handkerchief as they went. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then started to hand it back; he declined, saying "You better hang onto that. You're probably going to need it again soon." Robbie swallowed hard, reminded of the punishment still facing her.
When they were seated again, Uncle Rob inquired, "Now. The truth: are you or are you not having problems keeping up with your classwork?"
"No, Uncle Rob, I'm not."
"Then why the incompletes?"
"Well ... the classes were just so boring. I couldn't get motivated to do the term papers. Then, before I knew it, the term was over, and I couldn't get all the papers done on time."
"So: do you have them all done now?"
She shook her head.
"Do you have any of them done?"
"No ... but I'm caught up in all my classes now, Uncle Rob! Honestly, I am!"
"And just when were you going to finish the papers?"
"Well ... I was going to start next weekend ..." she said weakly.
He snorted and didn't reply. She took advantage of the momentary lull in the conversation. "Uncle Rob ... what are you doing here?"
"I was at a meeting in Hillsdale," he answered. "I decided to drive over here and surprise you. I thought maybe I could take you shopping, and we could have dinner, or something. I certainly didn't expect this."
She managed a rueful smile. "I was surprised, all right."
"So was I." He pushed himself to his feet. "Let's see what Mr. Bonham thinks might be so helpful," heading for the previously indicated cupboard. Robbie winced. The principal had attended a conference in England the previous summer and brought back a few "items" to supplement enforcement of the school's disciplinary policy.
Uncle Rob opened the cupboard and took out a thin rod, about three feet long, with a crooked handle at one end. "What in the world is this thing?" he asked, swishing it around experimentally.
"That's a rattan cane," Robbie replied. "It stings dreadfully and leaves these awful welts which last for days."
He looked at her quizzically, one eyebrow raised. "Or so I've heard," she hastily added.
Replacing the cane in the cupboard, he took out a thin strip of leather, one end split into two tails. "And this?"
"That's a tawse. The welts aren't as bad as the cane leaves, but the sting is deeper and lasts longer. Or so I've heard."
"Well, at least I know what this is," he said, putting the tawse away and taking out the large oaken paddle which, before the past summer, had been the school's only implement of punishment. Uncle Rob contemplated the paddle for a few moments before placing it back in the cupboard and shutting the door. "Well, I've never needed anything like that before, and I don't see any reason to start now."
Robbie let out a huge sigh of relief. That meant he'd only be using his hand.
"Don't think this means you're getting off easy, young lady. I assure you, you won't be."
"Yes, Uncle Rob," the girl whispered. His hand could be quite formidable - as she and her bottom were about to find out, again (as if they'd ever forgotten!).
He pulled one of the visitor's chairs into the center of the room, leaving plenty of open space on all sides, and sat down. "I suppose you remember the drill," he remarked dryly.
Robbie did; but she also knew she had to at least try. "Uncle Rob ... do you really have to do this?"
"I know this place's reputation. If I don't do it, he" (inclining his head toward Mr. Bonham's desk) "will."
Resigned to her fate, Robbie shuffled over to her uncle's right side and laid down across his lap, balancing herself on her hands and toes. She felt her skirt raised up and draped neatly over her back; then Uncle Rob's fingers insinuated themselves beneath the waistband of her navy blue cotton panties and smoothly pulled them down to just below the curvature of her buttocks. No sense in arguing here; Uncle Rob only let her keep her panties up for birthday spankings and the like. Whenever he punished her, he never let anything come between his hand and her naked flesh.
She felt his palm resting lightly atop her backside. "When was the last time I had to spank you?" he asked.
You've never had to spank me, she thought, but wisely didn't say it. "When I was thirteen, and swore at that waitress who spilled my drink," she answered.
"That's right. I'd hoped that was the last time."
Robbie had time for a brief mental agreement before Uncle Rob raised his hand and brought it down sharply on her left cheek. SMACK! "OWWW!" She bucked upwards, kicking her legs reflexively. The sting barely had time to register before the second blow landed on the opposite side. SMACK! "OWWW!" Tears leapt unbidden into the girl's eyes as the all-too familiar warmth began spreading in her rump.
Uncle Rob kept up a brisk pace, bringing his punishing hand down repeatedly on his niece's hindquarters. After a dozen or so swats, she thrust a hand behind herself; he quickly grabbed her wrist with his free hand and pinned it to the small of her back. With Mr. Bonham, that would have earned her extra swats; Uncle Rob, however, seemed to take it as a given that, some time during the spanking, she'd try to protect herself. Besides, he and Robbie both knew she couldn't do anything to stop him; he, and he alone, would decide when she'd be spanked enough.
This particular spanking seemed to call for multiple coverage of every single square inch of her nates. Just when she figured she'd gone completely numb, Uncle Rob would find some vulnerable area to punish. Although she knew it would do no good, she tried begging and pleading for her release: "Please, Uncle Rob!" SMACK! "Please, that's enough!" SMACK! SMACK! "I'm sorry!" SMACK! "I won't ever do it again!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "Please, no more, pleeeeeese!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
At least Uncle Rob didn't lecture while he spanked, unlike her father and Mr. Bonham. He let his hand do the talking for him; and quite a long-winded orator it was. Finally, when Robbie laid limp over his lap, weak from struggling and tears, she sensed his patented closing phase: a rapid-fire flurry of spanks directly to her delicate undercheeks. Although she squealed and squirmed from the renewed pain, she knew her spanking was just about over.
Then, it did end. The room felt strangely quiet after her noisy ordeal. Uncle Rob quickly pulled Robbie's panties back up and her skirt down. Although the fabric felt rough against her abused skin, she knew he was trying to minimize her exposure and her embarrassment.
Robbie laid still over her uncle's knees for several minutes, crying steadily, her bottom throbbing and burning. Uncle Rob gently rubbed her back and shoulders, but didn't touch her rump. When her wails quieted, he helped her back to her feet, then stood himself and took her into his arms again. Held tight against his chest, she sobbed out the rest of her emotions while rubbing her burning behind with both hands.
After she'd quieted down to the point where rational thought was again possible, and again put her uncle's handkerchief to good use, the office door opened and Mr. Bonham strolled in. "I trust you had a fruitful discussion?" he asked, eyeing Robbie's red, tear-stained face.
"Quite," Uncle Rob replied. "Robbie assures me she won't fall behind in her school work again, and that she'll get those incompletes made up right away. Isn't that right, Robbie?"
The girl felt her face turn redder still as she nodded. "Well, Ms. Callahan and I will have our own 'discussion' about her behavior later," the principal stated.
"I already punished her enough. Don't you teach your students anything about double jeopardy here?" The harshness in her uncle's voice startled Robbie.
Mr. Bonham smirked. "Mr. Callahan, you may feel the punishment was sufficient, but we have certain standards for discipline here that we must apply objectively -"
Without another word, Uncle Rob spun Robbie around so her back was to Mr. Bonham, lifted her skirt, and yanked down her panties, exposing her scarlet backside again.
"I see," commented the principal, impressed in spite of himself. "Very well. There will be no further corporal punishment for Ms. Callahan." Uncle Rob released his niece, who pulled up her panties and gave him a grateful smile. She knew she would have gotten the tawse, if not the cane, from Mr. Bonham.
"However," the corpulent man continued, "she will be on afternoon detention until she has all her work from last term completed."
Robbie and Uncle Rob exchanged dismayed glances. For him to have come all this way, and then have her land in detention!
"Starting tomorrow. She'll be allowed a visitor's pass for the rest of today."
Robbie found herself able to breath again; so did Uncle Rob. "Thank you, Mr. Bonham," he replied. "Yes, thank you, sir," Robbie echoed.
Uncle Rob escorted his niece from the office, one arm around her waist. As they headed for the parking lot, and his rental, she laid her head on his shoulder again and asked, "Uncle Rob? Am I still your favorite niece?"
"You'll always be my favorite niece, Robbie. So, tell me: do you still like banana splits?"