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)