STUART’S SHAME

Stuart walked faster, he knew that he couldn't slack. He passed a couple of guys he'd gone to elementary and high school with, working on a car. They saw him, and snickered. "He has to be home or his uncle will spank him!" one guy, Roddy, said to the other. "No, not now, man...he's an adult, it can't still be that way...remember when the uncle showed up that time and made them strip to their skivvies?" Stuart walked faster, feeling embarrassed, as he always had. His mind flashed to Eli's pants being dragged down in front of the other kids, and Uncle John's razor strop landing again and again on Eli's defenseless buttocks.

 

Stu could remember, as kids, just after coming to live with Uncle John and Uncle Piet, he and Eli would test their boundaries by hanging around after school, just to hang around with the kids...ten minutes late was serious welts at home. But an hour or more, and Uncle John would get in his old Ford and go out looking for them! And swift, sure punishment would follow--if it hadn't been for the highschool sports teams--which the uncles approved of, as it resulted in college scholarships, Stu would never have played at all, just chores and studies.

 

The cell phone vibrated in Stu's pocket as he finally reached his block, still walking swiftly. "Hello?" "Hi Stu, it's Brandi!" Oh, that hottie from the seminar, the Entrepreneurship Project Management girl who wears the denim miniskirts. "Hey, how did you get my number...I mean thanks for calling!" Stu babbled. She is such a hottie!" "The T.A. gave me your number, he said you weren't supposed to give it out, but I seduced it out of him...you said you'd help me with my graphs...and I thought I could make you dinner or somethin' you know?...You're such a mysterio...but Dawn Hendrix from my Managerial Accounting class went to undergrad with you...she told me stuff!"

Was Dawn on the Tufts campus the day that Uncle Piet took my pants down and whipped me with his wooden hairbrush? God I hope not. He remembered kneeling with blazing buttocks, his trousers around his knees, as the other students gaped at him, while Piet's hands lambasted him in American Sign Language for forgetting the dishes that morning. Nineteen years old. Wow!

 

Stuart opened the door, listening to Brandi’s adorable velvety tones coming through the cell phone. “Can we get together? Normally I don’t have to ask guys twice. I have these economics questions to ask you—and other things.” Her voice tinkled in his ear. “You never come out at night, Stu…and you rush home after classes.” Stu gulped involuntarily.

 

He thought of Uncle Pietro’s schedule. Piet had a large sign-in sheet that they’d kept for him since elementary school. Stu had to sign in as soon as he got home from school…Piet and John had gauged the time it took for their nephew to walk home from every school he’d ever been in, and currently it was a twenty minute walk from the Harvard campus…and woe to Stu if he signed in later than half an hour after classes!

 

“I mean—“the girl’s voice persisted, “You’re an adult, Stu. You should be able to hang out a little, in the afternoons, at night.  Dawn told me about your uncles, but strict as they may be—“ Stuart was glad the girl couldn’t see him blush in humiliation. “—you’re a straight A student. I know Dawn was exaggerating about you having an eight-thirty bedtime…right? Couldn’t your uncles cut you a little slack, since you’re like…in your twenties?”

 

As the young man penciled “4:54 pm” on the chart near the door, he sighed,stalling for time.

 

Stu thought of Uncle John’s maxims on slovenliness…Stu writing 5,000 times “I will not be idle to shame my family” Oh, that clipboard, and all the paper!  Five thousand times, one letter in pencil, one in ink—which meant switching from pencil to pen TWENTY-NINE times per sentence—while standing on two iron chairs with the cinderblock hanging from his testicles. But he’d learned. They did it because they loved him.

 

“Yes, yes,” Stu tried to laugh. “I’m an adult in grad school, but my uncles are a bit weird.” Stu looked up in horror as he entered the kitchen, and there was Uncle John, glowering at him.

 

Fortunately, Uncle Pietro was still at work, as librarian at the State School for the Deaf. He started late, and had already had time that morning to mousetrap Stu’s nipples for half an hour as punishment for leaving scum on the inside of the toilet during the a.m. bathroom chores. (Piet was the permissive one. Uncle John would have mousetrapped the nipples and tied Stu’s head into the toilet bowl for an hour before letting him go to class.)

 

But now he had to do some damage control. Hurriedly. Stu said “I’ve got to go, Brandi. I’ll talk to you soon.” He clicked off.

 

 “I made it clear, young fellow, that the cell phone was for us to check up on you, not for you to conduct idle chatter to slatterns” came the Marine’s voice. Uncle John had done three tours—two in Korea and one in Vietnam. “Your Uncle Piet wrote me a note that the Verizon bill has been quite high…what are you using those minutes for?” Piet, deaf since birth, had never quite taught John the sign language that he had used quite easily with his nephews. “And why do you use your classmate’s first name? In my day, we called our co-ed classmates MISS. Are you becoming sinfully familiar with her?” Uncle John’s glass eye sparkled as he grilled his nephew.

 

“Sir, I don’t use the cell phone often.  I was just checking up about my studies…we’re in a study group, Miss Dawson and myself.” Would he believe that? Stu hurriedly dropped the cell phone in his pocket. Putting his books down on the counter, the young M.B.A. candidate ran his shaking fingers through his tousled blond hair, and smiled at his uncle.

 

Uncle John scowled. “This cell phone thing is just an example of your disobedience, your wilfullness, just like your sinful older brother.” Oh, no, thought Stu. He’s going to lecture me about Eli again.

 

“This is the trouble that your brother Elihu had…” Uncle John said stolidly. “He couldn’t follow instructions. Willful, that boy was. Ran away, he did, and the authorities would do nothing… And now he’s living a sinful life, there’s no doubt about it. Because he couldn’t live under our loving rules. And you’re willful just as he is.” Well no, Stuart wanted to say. In 2001, the year Eli “ ran away” it could have been understandable. “Come with me, Stu, you’re seventeen, I’m nineteen.”

 

Eli had begged as Stu had assisted him in packing his bag. “Ten years of hell, man. Hell, that’s right, I’ll say it. Eight o’clock bedtimes, not allowed out of the yard outside school and church…and we’re adults! Being whipped with coat hangers and razor wire…” Eli had shaken his head. “And what they do to us at night…that’s real wrong, man. Put in diapers, being corn-holed, having to use our mouths for you-know what…let’s get going!” But Stu had begged off because he was still a minor, and he’d watched his brother jump out of the window and scurry off in the night, with only six dollars to his name. Eli had never been the scholar that Stu was, and had gone to work after high school, and of course he’d turned every paycheck over to the uncles…but he’d saved his carfare for a week, and then he’d gone…off to join the Air Force.

 

Stu decided to change the subject. “So you’re home, Uncle John…I thought you’d be grocery shopping or something, sir.” Uncle John put down his copy of the New Testament and stared straight into his nephew’s eyes. “Why? Do you want me to be out at this time?” Stu looked shocked. “No, Sir I—“

“Is this your time when you like to have the house to yourself, Boy?” Uncle John gritted his teeth. Stu paled. Uncle John, a squat, muscled man an inch or so shorter than his elegant nephew, was bristling under his stiff gray handlebar moustache. “Do you spend your time alone in the house…not doing chores, or  studying, or reading Scripture but..touching yourself…HERE?” Stu’s uncle grabbed his own crotch and then snapped his fingers in Stu’s face. “For the few hours that I’m away, is that what you do?” Uncle John’s voice rose.

 

God, Uncle John has a big dick…Stu thought about it. He could see the bulge in John’s pants. Though Stuart had fellated Uncle John just that morning, as the older man was showering, he was still surprised by Uncle John’s tumescence.

 

Uncle John stalked up to Stu and took the younger man by the ear. “U-uncle John, I’m twenty-two years old.” Stuart tried to be firm. But he had to travel as Uncle John was pulling Stu’s ear down the hall.

 

As Stu walked sideways, he felt his cock hardening swiftly against  the ridiculous courdoroy trousers that his sensible uncle made him wear. “Y-you shouldn’t be taking me by the ear like this, man!” As Stu and his uncle entered Stu’s bedroom—there was no door on the room, as the uncles felt the boy would only misuse privacy—Stu’s uncle let go of Stu’s ear and backhanded him harshly, so he almost fell to the floor.

 

As John’s hammy fist moved away, a dribble of blood seeped from the boy’s mouth. “What did you say?” Stu said more politely. “Why SIR are you taking me by the ear SIR, please?” Uncle John grunted, not bothering to answer the question. As Stu leaned against the wall, his uncle walked over to Stu’s neatly made bed—it had to be done at six a.m. with hospital corners, or Uncle Pietro, Stu’s other uncle would bounce a quarter, and then tear the sheets off…and THEN Stu’s ass was grass…

 

Uncle John viciously pulled the coverlet off the bed and pointed at the neatly ironed sheets. “W-what’s wrong?” Uncle John stepped over to Stuart and slapped his face again. Dizzily, Stu repeated the question. “SIR, what’s wrong with the bed SIR.” He hadn’t been backhanded this much since Saturday, when Piet had heard Stu use the Lord’s name in vain. Between slapping him, Piet’s hands had made various signs, telling Stu in American Sign Language what a sinful boy he was…and then of course, Piet had turned his thumb towards his crotch, and Stu had dropped to his knees in service…what a Saturday that had been!

 

Uncle John screamed in Stu’s face. “I know what’s been going on in this bedroom, Boy!”

 

How could he tolerate this? But he’d had a chance to escape this life, just last June.

 

 

The year before, Stu had graduated from Tufts University with honors. That, of course was expected, as both his uncles had given him vicious whippings, canings and tortures for getting less than an A minus on any test, quiz or paper. But neither of his uncles had come to the ceremony, and Stu had not made friends with many of his classmates, not ever having been allowed a social life. But as he’d walked off, discarding his mortarboard, a tall man in an Air Force uniform had approached him. Eli!

 

“Stu! Magna cum laude, eh? So good to see you…you didn’t answer my letters!” The brothers hugged. “Well, I knew you sent them.” Stu admitted. “Every time I got one it was intercepted by Uncle Piet, who would then make the sign for ‘Satan’…” Eli laughed “I remember that sign of his!”

 

Stu continued “Yes, and then he’d tear the letter up in front of me, and tie me to a chair, naked and give me the Poker treatment.” Eli had looked very sober. Both brothers remembered the Poker treatment, where Uncle Piet would bind the erring nephew to a chair, naked and burn his foreskin with a white hot fireplace poker.

 

Eli had never suffered from this as much as Stuart, because he didn’t get erect when his uncles stripped him…it was pure torture. But Stu had  that bent. “I’m so sorry, Stu.” Eli had said. “But I wanted to tell you. I have a place to live, and I’m married now…would you like to leave with me and go down to Florida, get away from those sadistic old men?”

 

“I don’t know…” Stu had said, and his brother had gone on “We could leave right now…Gail is dying to meet you, she’s pregnant with twins! You

could have a real life, you know? Girls, dating, keeping the money you make…staying up all night, getting laid. And I know the rules over there haven’t changed, I parked last night and saw the lights go out at the house, and heard you screaming as Piet thrashed you. Let’s get the hell out of here!”

 

But Stu had firmly said no…he had to take care of his uncles. But it hadn’t been that altruistic…the idea of living the “free life” just didn’t …DO it for him. And he’d bade his puzzled brother goodbye forever, and gone home to receive a whipping for being late signing in!

 

“Are you listening to me about these sheets?”

 

Uncle John’s voice brought Stuart back to the bedroom, and the issues today. “What’s wrong, you little slimeball?” John’s bushy eyebrows met. “The sheets are completely clean!”

 

“What’s wrong with my sheets being clean, Sir?” asked Stu feebly. “Isn’t cleanliness next to Go—“ But Uncle John slapped him before continuing his tirade.

 

“There is no semen on these sheets! Unstained! They’ve been that way for eight DAYS.” Uncle John bared his teeth. “One day, two days unstained, perhaps…but EIGHT?”

 

Stu was puzzled, and he shrugged. “Why, SIR is that wrong, Sir?” Uncle John smiled grimly. “You have had no nocturnal emissions, no wet dreams in eight days, boy.” Stu blushed hotly. Uncle John began removing his large leather belt.

 

 

“If you had not been masturbating, you’d be having your sinful dreams…and there would be little messes.” John scowled as the belt left his pants, loop by loop. Oh God…not this, thought Stuart. I’ve been so careful. I burned my magazines so they wouldn’t find them…but on THIS evidence he’s going to whip me? Having been pre-law at Tufts University, Stu felt that the evidence was certainly circumstantial.

“Sir—sir, really, I took your last punishment to heart..” Stu was sweating as Uncle John pulled the belt off the last loop and curled it into his hand. “B-but I’m older now…I don’t have wet dreams anymore.” Would this work? Uncle John was not a stupid man.

 

Uncle John pointed to Stu’s waistband, and, tears welling in the boy’s eyes, the boy shook his head. “You have no evidence—“ Uncle John slapped the belt against his thigh, and Stuart’s cock swelled. “You are a very potent young man, Stuart…usually you soil your sheets after one of those disgusting dreams at least twice a week..or once. But not in eight days this time” John grimaced, and pointed to Stu’s waistband once more, and Stuart unbuttoned the top button his courdoroys, and began unzipping his pants.

 

This could be worse, Stu thought, trembling as his pants were lowered. Remember the time John and Piet burst into the locker room and thrashed me in front of the basketball team? I was the captain, and to be beaten like that in front of the boys—the laughingstock.

 

Mechanically, Stu’s long white thighs in the little pink panties that Piet made him wear, were stepping out of the trousers, the penny loafers already kicked under the bed.

 

Once Stuart was naked, Uncle John viewed him disgustedly. “Look at that sinful thing” he said, pointing to Stu’s rock hard cock. Stu’s uncle swung the belt, slamming it hard against Stu’s erection, and Stu screamed.

 

Uncle John then took the   belt in the middle and flogged Stu’s erection with the heavy steel belt buckle until Stu was completely limp, and the boy was sobbing. “Now then! Jerk your penis! Show me how you do it, you disgusting, blasphemous creature!” Uncle John’s voice was savage.

 

Stu looked at his uncle with puzzled, bleary eyes. “Y-you want me to masturbate, Sir?” “NOW! You’re so good at it!” Stuart began pulling his cock, and soon it became hard again.  “Now, sir! Hands behind your back!” Uncle John screamed at the boy, and quickly Stuart obeyed. WHACK WHACK WHACK! The belt buckle sang against Stu’s tortured glans as Uncle John swung it again and again.

 

Stu sobbed, and fell to his knees as the belt lashed his cock. Finally it was limp yet again, and there was a tiny stream of blood coming from the foreskin. “Masturbate again, Stuart!” Uncle John ordered. “Now!” Stu looked pleadingly at his Uncle John. “P-please Sir…no more!” Uncle John threw the belt on the bed and picked up a long pointer that Stu had been using at school as a Teaching Assistant to freshman Applied Economics majors.

 

“Masturbate immediately, Stuart!” Stu’s cock was already hardening, looking at Uncle John in his black jeans. Stuart began toying with his cock, and then pumping it harder and harder…he was getting closer to cumming. “Hands behind your back!” Stu bit his lip and put his hands behind his back. Uncle John lifted the harsh wooden pointer.

 

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! The pointer rose and fell again and again against Stuart’s cock until it was flagging, and then Uncle John hit once too hard and the pointer broke. Uncle John didn’t even miss a beat, but just took up his belt again and continued operations with the buckle end as Stuart screamed and danced…Finally he fell the floor, and Uncle John kicked him in the stomach.

 “Now” Uncle John said grimly. “It’s time for your thrashing. You are going to get it across your buttocks as you deserve it. Over the bed!”

As Stuart tearfully threw his half-naked body across the bed at Uncle John’s grim, pointing finger, he knew that his uncle loved him, and as  the belt buckle swung against Stu’s shaved balls for the first time, he worried he might soil the sheet again in painful ecstasy.