Friday 4 September 2015

Aunt Mildred (F/f)


A rare story for me. Female disciplinarian dealing with a young girl rather than a boy. My excuse is that it is different to write, and for some of you different to read. My only excuse, fantasy wise, is that all my girl's bottoms are boyish. A Sequel to The Games Club  to come next month so those who liked mature males beating young male bottoms will get their compensation. Alfred Roy

Aunt Mildred

Aunt Mildred pulled the anonymous girl towards her. She had been looking forward to this moment all evening. She was definitely a most attractive niece. Small, short blonde hair, slim and boyish. And mischievously teasing. Just the sort of niece every aunt should have. For two hours the pert and friendly girl had goaded Aunt Mildred, made oblique comments and issued subtle and provocative challenges. It was clear that this young lady, and she was decidedly young at no more than nineteen, desperately desired to be spanked. Even if she herself did not know it. But Aunt Mildred, experienced practitioner of the disciplinary arts, recognised all the obvious signs. She had been around a long time. So she pulled the girl towards her, lifting the short skirt and placing long fingers in the waistband of the hidden panties, and told her she was about to get her desired desserts. With consummate expertise the panties, a pleasing plain white with a blue edged trim, were pulled down to the knees and the young girl expertly bent across the sitting form of a stern and determined lady. Simultaneously the skirt was raised to the waist and a delightfully creamy white bottom was both revealed and spanked. Aunt Mildred’s hand did what it had done many times before. It connected with the soft and enticing flesh of a beautiful little bottom and, gradually and lovingly, turned the two twisting cheeks into gentle shades of autumn’s fading colours. But this was no ordinary aunt and the squirming girl was no ordinary niece. They were not even related. And nor, it has to be said, were any of the fourteen people watching. And one of those fourteen, transfixed and enthralled, was Cassie.

 

Aunt Mildred, as she liked to call herself, had first met Cassie at the local book club. It was the usual format. Someone chose a book and all read it and commented on it. Aunt Mildred was a regular contributor and had thoroughly enjoyed the meetings and, equally, thoroughly enjoyed R F Delderfield’s Avenue stories. A much neglected writer, a modern Dickens some had called him; his books had not survived his early death. But for those who liked to immerse themselves in the minutiae of ordinary lives his rich tapestries and meticulous detail entranced. ‘The Dreaming Suburb’, a tale of suburban folks coping with the turmoil of a second world war was Delderfield at his best. His characters lived and breathed. Commenting on the story produced heated debate on that living and breathing. Cassie had been to three of the meetings and it was at the third meeting that Aunt Mildred particularly noticed her. An especially obnoxious young girl in the book got a serious but comical come-uppance from the buxom wife of a man she had entrapped. Descriptive passages described a thorough and well deserved bare bottom hairbrush spanking. Common in the 1940’s but alien to most modern minds. That passage, more than any other, produced heated debate on both sides. More fiercely defensive than most of the aggrieved woman’s right to dish out her own form of salutary punishment was Cassie. And Aunt Mildred, a perceptive Aunt Mildred, noted it.

 

‘You were quite vociferous in your defence of that spanking?’

 

‘She deserved it, horrible little cow.’

 

‘But with her pants down, on her bare bottom. Was that not a little extreme?’

 

‘No. It would not have made sense otherwise. Delderfield knew that.’

 

‘Humiliation coupled with pain, is that what you mean?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

The girl blushed and Aunt Mildred smiled. She and Cassie were having a morning coffee. A chance encounter in town a couple of days after the last Book Club meeting. Clearly they gelled, Mildred’s acute antennae gleaned that, and after a few preliminaries the offer of a coffee. Aunt Mildred was not predatory but she knew a natural submissive when she met one and turning their conversations back to Delderfield was both inevitable and desired.

 

‘If one is to be spanked, then it is best to go all the way? Is that what you are saying?’

 

‘All the way?’

 

‘Nothing to impede the hand, or the implement, of the chastiser. No false modesty?’

 

‘No false modesty?’

 

‘The bottom being spanked should be bare?’

 

The girl remained silent, considering her options. It was as if both she and Aunt Mildred knew that her response would dictate where their conversations would lead.

 

‘Don’t be shy, Cassie. I am interested.’

 

‘If one is to be spanked’, the words were carefully measured, ‘Then yes, it should be on the bare bottom.’ She paused and then added, unnecessarily in Mildred’s opinion, ‘But it must be deserved.’

 

‘Like the girl in Delderfield’s book?’

 

‘Like the girl in the book, yes. It must be real, painful, humiliating. More than you want, more than you expect.’

 

‘Not a game.’

 

‘No. It should make you cry. Otherwise there is no point.’

 

‘So it should hurt, Cassie. To be a true spanking it should hurt, painfully so, and it should make the bottom sting and the tears flow? Is that about right, how you see it?’

 

‘Yes, Mildred. It is. And it should be on the bare. The bottom should always be bare.’

 

A silence fell between them and Aunt Mildred studied the girl’s face. The cheeks were flushed and the eyes were intensely staring. Eyes that seemed to beg for an appropriate response. One that offered both a special promise and a certainty that it would be fulfilled. Their conversations had induced a strange desperation in the girl’s manner. Fidgety and nervous her breathing had become shallow, her attention distracted. In such inner turmoil a delicate dance around preliminaries was unnecessary. All her instincts told Mildred that this was a young girl ripe for the direct approach. All other options seemed as spent as their finished coffees.

 

‘And can I take it that is what you would like me to do to you?’

 

The girl said nothing, merely diverted her eyes.

 

‘Spank you on your bottom. Your bare bottom.’

 

Cassie’s look signalled that there was nothing more to say.

 

They arrived at Aunt Mildred’s impressive house an hour or so later. An imposing detached property, full of old world charm, in the most expensive part of town. A large and well maintained garden was full of flowers of all shades and sizes and many bedecked the long hall and spacious lounge of Aunt Mildred’s house. Cassie sat nervously on a plush, light green, sofa and absorbed her surroundings. The woman was clearly rich, or at least financially comfortable. Everything from the heavy, satiny, curtains to the delightful bric a brac and classic walnut furniture oozed wealth. Cassie had formed the impression that Mildred, or Aunt Mildred as she preferred to be addressed, was a classy lady when she first met her at the book club. All she now viewed merely confirmed it. It was as she was studying the detail of a splendid ormolu clock that Aunt Mildred, outer coat removed, re-entered the lounge and sat opposite Cassie in the nearer of two, equally light green, armchairs. She opened a gold plated cigarette case and, not offering one to Cassie, took out and lit a colourful Balkan Sobranie. Its light green colour almost matched the plush furniture. Cassie noticed this small inconsequential detail as Aunt Mildred looked carefully at her, smiled, and spoke.

 

‘How old are you Cassie?’

 

‘Nineteen, nearly twenty.’

 

‘And you have never been spanked?’

 

This was merely a re-iteration of a detail from their earlier conversations. Cassie had never been spanked, never received as much as a slap throughout her life. But she clearly desired it, avidly reading on the subject, trying to come to terms with her alien need.

 

‘No.’

 

‘And you think it is time you were?’

 

‘Yes. But only because I deserve it. I have done many wrong things in my life and have never been punished for it. I can’t explain....but...’

 

The girl was becoming fidgety again, blushing and breathing heavily, disturbed by the words she was saying and the proximity of the woman opposite. And now they were in a private place, not a public cafe, and each word took on extra significance.

 

‘Go on.’

 

‘I have this desire, this need, to go over someone’s knee, a woman’s knee and be spanked until I cry. I can’t explain it but it is there.’

 

‘It has always been there.’

 

Mildred said this, not as a question but a statement of fact.

 

‘It has always been there Cassie.’

 

‘Yes. And when I met you, at the book club, I thought I might at last have met the woman who might do it.’

 

Cassie paused, took a deep breath, and continued.

 

‘I think I noticed you long before you noticed me. I thought, hoped, that is the woman I would like to spank me. And then the Delderfield book came up and you seemed so much in favour of that girl being spanked I could have cried.’

 

‘You did get a little heated, if I remember.’

 

‘I saw you looking at me when they were discussing it. What you said fired me up, gave me courage. You said, and you seemed quite annoyed by the way the debate was going, you said....’

 

‘Go on.’

 

‘You said, and I can remember it almost exactly, I have played it so many times in my mind. You said, spanking a girl’s bottom, or a boy’s for that matter, is not violence it is an act of caring. If deserved. And taking down their pants and doing it on the bare behind, or something like that, emphasised they were still a child.’

 

‘You have a good memory Cassie.’

 

‘You were so right. You still are.’

 

Mildred put out her cigarette, rose and walked over to her lounge window. She stood looking out on her garden for a few moments and then slowly and deliberately drew the curtains together. For a moment the lounge, devoid of sunlight, was cast in a greying gloom. As she turned on a gentle orange light she spoke, and her words were measured and clear. Cassie could be in no doubt as to what was about to happen.

 

‘I want you to stand up and remove your knickers. You are suitably attired otherwise. Then go over to that drawer in the far corner, the top one, and bring me the hairbrush. I shall then give you the spanking you both deserve and want. I shall not go too hard on you but it will be unpleasant. It will hurt, especially when I use the hairbrush. But if you are the girl I think you are, you will thank me afterwards. If your tears allow. So, let us not waste any more time. Take off your knickers.’

 

A surge of desire swept through Cassie’s being. Words she had so longed to hear in a situation she had long prayed for. ‘Take off your knickers. You are going to be spanked.’ She did so, slowly and thrillingly, conscious already of wetness she could not understand.

 

This first session, and it was a first of many, lasted just over half an hour. Cassie did as instructed and stood in front of Aunt Mildred, now seated on the plush sofa, and meekly handed her the hairbrush. The situation was enhanced for Cassie by the freedom she felt at removing her knickers. Her thin floral skirt brushed against her bare skin and hinted at what was to come. Never did her bottom feel so vulnerable, but it was a vulnerability she had both conspired and fervently wished for. She was going to be spanked. As if in response to the thought her Aunt Mildred, for that is what she was even if for only a heavenly half an hour, pulled her towards her and placed her over a firm and full knee. Looking at the lounge window Cassie registered that the firm hand that would chastise was the right one. In all senses. She lay, breathlessly, waiting for that first sensation long imagined. Hands brushed the skirt. Measuring, assessing, evaluating the contours and strength of the only area of one’s body that should suffer pain. Humiliating, ecstatic, pain. Or so she hoped. The hands seemed to explore every inch of her buttocks, imagining the target that both women desired revealing. And when they were, when the skirt was slowly lifted and turned back, when all of Cassie was exposed, neither was disappointed. Cassie almost wept at the feeling of freedom and submission that the sensations engendered. Her naked bottom, turned over a formidable knee, upturned, pointing, beckoning, inviting. Sensing the cooling air, drinking in the exploring fingers. Waiting to be spanked. Waiting, helplessly, to cry. And for Mildred the sight fulfilled the promise of the touch. As the floral skirt rose two firm young buttocks, pale and inviting and small for a girl, signalled their own special welcome. Smooth as silk and trembling in anticipation the twin cheeks of Cassie begged to be kissed as much as chastised. They were as two shiny orbs, a slightly creamy off white, with enhanced curves at their peak that literally screamed smack me, spank me. Mildred thought that if Cassie must be blessed with her own special and strange desires then it was an equal blessing that she had a bottom, a behind, which invited fulfilment and satisfaction. She could not resist running her hands over the cold and virgin skin. However many times she had done this, to boys as well as girls, and there were many, the sensory anticipation was always sublime. Almost reluctantly, not wishing to violate such perfection, she raised her hand, hovered, froze, and then swooped it down on the first and left of those cheeks. And then, quickly, repeated the action on the second and right. Reluctance defied by the eager instinct of a true female disciplinarian sighting a willing bottom. Two crimson marks rose and Cassie, an almost swooning Cassie, thought again on that wetness in her being that she did not understand. Aunt Mildred, warming to her task and delivering six more stinging hand smacks to each of the twin naked cheeks, understood only too well.

 

The spanking, woman and girl engaged in an ancient and familiar ritual, increased in both sensuality and intensity with each smack of Aunt Mildred’s palm. Bottom cheeks, initially alabaster white, moved gently from pale pink to a full blushing red and mirrored the rising discomfort of Cassie. Respite came intermittently as the hands chastising the naked bottom rested, unexpectedly, and warm fingers traced the emanating heat. In spite of the pain to which her backside was subject, Cassie never attempted to rise and in these tender interludes her squirming body went limp and she issued sighs of contentment. Pain and pleasure were being combined as both protagonists had fervently hoped when the order to remove knickers had been issued. Just at that moment, that delicious moment, there was nowhere else in the world that Cassie would rather be. But pleasure comes at a price. Gentle spanks, hand on bottom, grateful for the cooling air that contrasted with the rising heat, could not last forever. The surges of desire which flowed through Cassie’s being were enhanced and counterpointed by each resounding smack until her body language attained a level that needed a fitting disciplinary climax. Aunt Mildred was no fool, in such matters she had gained formidable expertise. Gentle pain and subtle pleasure required the ultimate resolution. The reason for all the ritual. Without it this spanking would be meaningless for both of them. What had Cassie said? It had to be real, it had to hurt, and it had to make her cry. It had to be more than she would expect. Aunt Mildred traced her fingers and palms over the burning skin yet again and picked up the hairbrush. As she did so Cassie issued a long and deeply felt sigh.

 

‘That hurt.’

 

‘It was meant to. I could not let you have too much enjoyment.’

 

Cassie smiled, seated again on the sofa and enjoying the warmth of the sensations engulfing her bottom. A bottom that had just suffered, there was no other word; twelve stinging spanks of a vicious hairbrush.

 

‘I am sorry if I screamed, I have never felt such pain.’

 

‘And now?’

 

‘I don’t mind. You said I would thank you afterwards and I do.’ She paused, reflecting on what she would say next. ‘You made me cry, howled more like it, and I am glad you did.’

 

‘And I am glad that you didn’t try to get up. You are a true submissive Cassie.’

 

‘Pleasure followed by pain.’

 

‘The pleasure is in the pain, without that there is no pleasure. Sorry, I sound as if I am lecturing.’

 

‘No, that’s all right. You are right.’

 

Both women fell silent for a moment, as if collecting their thoughts on what had been an instructive half an hour. Familiar to one, but a journey of discovery for the other. Eventually Cassie spoke.

 

‘It makes me feel very warm towards you, and not just in my bottom.’ She laughed, sheepishly. ‘I feel very close to you, do you understand?’

 

‘Oh yes.’

 

‘It is just – amazing. Sitting here with you, after what you have just done. No one has ever done that to me. No one in the world. I feel as if I want to tell the world but, at the same time, tell no one. This woman, you, has just spanked me. On my bare bottom. Has made me cry, has made me ecstatic, has made me feel....wonderful. Special. Has made me complete. Knows me better than anyone else ever will. Do you understand?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘I have never felt so happy, so content.’

 

Mildred, Aunt Mildred, said nothing for a little while. And then she stood and told Cassie to do the same. There was a steely look in her eyes and Cassie, nervously, did as she was bid. Mildred turned her sideways and then stepped back, admiring her, assessing her. And then, firmly but gently, told her to lift her skirt as high as it would go. Cassie did so, not reluctantly but not in haste, a slow revealing of the lower half of her body. She gathered the skirt around her just above her waist. Her knickers had not been replaced and she was naked from the waist down. At the angle that she had been placed Aunt Mildred had a good view of both her bottom and her genitals. The bottom was livid red with a hint of bruises from the hairbrush; the genital area glistened with the moisture her experience had provoked. Cassie closed her eyes and remained silent as Aunt Mildred approached her. Her breath almost stilled as hands explored all the warmth and savage ridges that her spanking, hand and hairbrush, had produced. Her twin naked cheeks absorbed the gentle sensations of Aunt Mildred’s hands and she shuddered and breathed heavily again as one of those same hands drifted around her waist and gently caressed the pubic hairs of her sex. As one hand pressed against her burning bottom and the other teased her eagerness she was afraid that she would faint. And then that same hand, the one exploring her bottom, issued a resounding slap to the nearest cheek and pulled down the skirt. ‘Of course I understand Cassie. Now put on your knickers and I will make us a cup of tea and take you home.’ Both women gave a gentle laugh and exchanged smiles. The elder woman with understanding, the younger with slight regret.  Followed, much later, by sobering relief.

 

Cassie and Mildred did not meet again for a couple of weeks. When they did it was at a final season meeting of the book club. The book under discussion was Gillian Flynn’s ‘Gone Girl’ and riveting as it was the subsequent debates inspired neither woman. ‘I preferred the film’ was Mildred’s sole contribution regarding a book that she considered started well and lost its way. Cassie, who had neither read it nor seen it and merely attended to find out what all the fuss was about, remained silent. Content, as she was, with her thoughts of her recent visit to Mildred’s house. It was those, rather than the book, which preoccupied their conversations in a quiet corner of a local public house. Mildred had issued the invitation as the book club meeting broke up and Cassie, fearful that her presence had hardly been noted, was overjoyed.

 

‘I am sorry I have not been in touch Cassie. Pressures of business.’

 

‘That and the fact that you did not have my phone number.’

 

‘Did I not?’ Mildred smiled. ‘I thought you had.....’

 

‘I meant to, you asked for it. But with everything going on I forgot.’

 

‘Not easy to concentrate in such situations.’ She smiled again. ‘How are things, in that area?’

 

Now it was Cassie’s turn to smile. She sipped her tonic water and pulled a rueful face. Her thought, not the drink, evoked the response.’

 

‘Recovered. Eventually. I was a bit sore for a day or so and my bottom patterns, blue and pink hues, increasingly fascinated. But now it is almost as if it never was.’

 

‘You sound regretful.’

 

There was a silence for a moment, Mildred waiting patiently for Cassie to continue.

 

‘I am.’

 

‘Then you should come with me to a party I am going to on Saturday. I only came tonight in the hope I might see you. Are you free?’

 

‘A party?’

 

‘Yes. In Kidderminster. We have them every couple of months or so.’ Mildred paused, selecting her words carefully. ‘For like minded people, Cassie. Very friendly. I will drive.’

 

‘I haven’t said yes yet. What sort of party?’

 

Mildred laughed.

 

‘An Aunt’s party. What else. And we are all free to bring a niece.’

 

It was Cassie’s turn to laugh.

 

‘And would I get....?’

 

‘Yes. As last time. Exactly as last time. The only difference is that other people will be watching. But don’t worry. It is all very civilised.’

 

‘I don’t know.’

 

‘I think you would enjoy it. In fact I know you would. The last girl I took was very dubious to start with and by the end of the evening she had been spanked by four different aunts. She said on the drive home that her knickers went up and down so much that she wouldn’t wear any next time. ’

 

This time they both laughed.

 

‘All right. I’ll come. Providing.......providing the first spanking I get is from you.’

 

‘Of course, Cassie. It would be rude not do.

 

And so they went.

 

 

Aunt Mildred’s hand did what it had done many times before. It connected with the soft and enticing flesh of a beautiful little bottom and, gradually and lovingly, turned the two twisting cheeks into gentle shades of autumn’s fading colours. But this was no ordinary aunt and the squirming girl was no ordinary niece. They were not even related. And nor, it has to be said, were any of the fourteen people watching. And one of those fourteen, transfixed and enthralled, was Cassie. She was going to be next.

 

 

Alfred Roy (2015)