Hi folks, I thought that I may share my last trip to spank land, courtesy of my Aunty Shan.
I had for a few weeks been getting more and more stressed out. The situation with my mama's deteriorating health and lack of mobility coupled with the increased work load and responsibility had become almost too much to bare.
On the Thursday the week before I emailed my Aunty Shan and explained the situation I also related a scene in a story I read in which the principal character gets spanked by his favourite teacher who is also his surrogate mother. Anyway the character basically asks her for a spanking in the hoper it will prevent him going off the rails and ending up hurting himself. I like a child knew a spanking would help me although I knew it would be painful.
Aunty Shan emailed me in reply telling me to present myself on Wednesday morning at 11am.
She made me a cup of tea and we went into the lounge. As I entered the lounge I saw the hairbrush lying on top of the electric fire place and shuddered as I knew Aunty had placed it there before I arrived, Aunty looked at me and smiled as she sat down patting the seat next to her. She told me to sit down adding I may not feel much like sitting later.
We talked and like the friends we are, we caught up on all the news and gossip since we last parted.
Once our tea was finished Aunty asked me to take the cups into the kitchen and put them in the sink. I returned to the lounge to find Aunty picking up a few implements, her favourite red slipper, a leather paddle and of course her ebony hair brush. Armed with these fearsome tools she sat down in her spanking position in the middle of the sofa. Looking at me she sternly commanded me to stand next to her right knee and began to ask me why I had allowed myself to get into the state I was in.
It is strange but faced with a spanking every little boy I know begins to tell the truth and confess all his secrets.
They are not always deep dark secrets that send you straight to hell but little things, the "I wish I hadn't done that..." and small actions, things we say, all which fester within us and if not dealt with begin to take on greater meaning and significance.
I told Aunty about the way I felt having to take a shed load of medication on order to stay healthy, how it had become a chore and a burden. A surprising thing happened because as I spoke, revealing these inner thoughts my eyes began to tear up, my voice began to waver and I found myself beginning to cry. Softly, the only sign the heaving of my shoulders and the slight catch in my voice.
I was told to remove my trousers and lay across Aunty's lap. This was it, about to be spanked and all because I asked for it.
The first spank is always a shock, surprisingly it stung, a few seconds later my right cheek rebounded as Aunty's firm palm struck smack in the middle of my butt, not overly hard but boy how it stung. For the next few minutes the room reverberated with the sound of a firm palm striking my bottom. Unlike the previous times I found myself in this position Aunty was silent, not scolding me allowing her palm to talk to me, to search out those hidden thoughts and feelings. Aunty stopped spanking and began to gently rub my bottom soothing me all the time, telling me I was a good boy for having the courage to actually ask for a spanking and that she was very proud of me.
A few minutes of this gentle stroking and I felt my boxers being turned down and Aunty exclaimed as to how my bottom looked all pink but that the colour she wished to see was red.
As she spoke these words the spanking began again, Aunty stepping up the intensity as well as the scolding, She spoke of how my friends and family would be devastated if I were to get sick and how selfish of me that would be. How hurt people that loved me would feel that by allowing myself to get sick I had deprived them of sharing my life with them. These word coupled with the spanking which by now had graduated to Aunty's favourite red slipper, quickly brought back the tears and almost against my will I began to sob and cry, still silent as words were not required. Suddenly the spanking sound changed and the pain suddenly intensified and I knew the hair brush had come out to chat. It spoke to my bottom and the tears flowed faster and the cries grew louder until great racking sobs issued forth from my lips.
Again the sting changed and I knew Aunty had reverted to a hand spanking, however I knew this to be the finale as both the tempo as well as the intensity changed. Not only was Aunty spanking harder but faster, harder and faster.
At last blows stopped stinging my sore red bottom and Aunty started stroking my bottom, gently soothing me as she calmed me down, all the while telling me I was her good little boy and the punishment was over.
I lay supine over her lap for a further 5 minutes slowly coming out from spank land, no longer sobbing but gently crying as I calmed down. Aunty allowed me to lie there, my tears wetting her sofa and then she told me to rise, allowing me to rub my bottom and drew me into her arms, telling me she loved me.
It was the most traumatic spanking I had endured in a long time. Yes it hurt and would for hours afterwards but I felt a release and a calmness over me like never before. the whole experience cathartic and cleansing
Aunty had sensed my need perfectly, the need for a maternal hand spanking which has made me a stronger person, able to face what ever life chooses to throw at me, until the next time when once again I will face the fire of a spanking from my Aunty Shan