Part 2
This part of the story has been written in the first person
It seemed as though time stood still when I heard these words that signalled the start of my spanking for disobeying my aunty. I felt the time for being a brat had come and gone. The trepidation and anxiety I had faced ever since receiving aunty Rachel’s email telling me to present myself for a very well deserved spanking evolved into full on dread. The memory of my last hair brushing given me by aunty Rachel and how much it hurt as well as the knowledge I had truly disappointed her and that she meant to teach me never to disobey her ever again caused me to suffer an intense sense of fear the likes of which I last experienced as a young man entering a combat zone for the first time.
Standing to do Aunty Rachel’s bidding knowing full well that when she returned the time for explaining would be over and it would be time to pay the piper. Aunty Rachel used the distraction of my undressing to take the tea mugs into the kitchen leaving me alone for the first time since arriving. Fleeting thoughts of flight swept through my mind, almost to the point of slipping my shoes back on and running for the front door.
Deep in my inner most being I knew one thing, that I deserved every painful spank. Aunty Rachel returned to the lounge and seated herself down on the stool, quietly waiting for me to finish getting ready.
“Fold your trousers neatly Mario, don’t simply dump them. Come on then, leave your boxers on, I will take them down when I am ready.” I quickly did as aunty Rachel instructed and stood next to her right knee waiting for her to tell me to ‘turn over her knee.
“Come on then little boy, you have an appointment with my hair brush and going slowly will not help you at all. You know what to do.” With that, Aunty Rachel parted her thighs and then pulled me over her left leg, leaving her right leg to lock over the back of my thighs effectively pinning me down and thus preventing me from kicking.
“Mario, look at me, child.” Craning my head and looking over my shoulder at my aunty, the tears already pooling in the corner of my eyes I lay and awaited the actual scolding that was still to come.
“We both know why you find yourself in this position, believe me when I say this is hurting me just as much as you, why don’t you save them tears for later.” The scolding was short and to the point. Moments later it began.
The first spank struck smack in the middle of my right cheek, followed by a salvo of about a dozen spanks alternating on both sides of my bottom and all striking home with considerable force. The sting was mind blowing, normally the only sounds emanating from my lips was in answer to a question and then only after having repeated the question and getting no answer my aunty spanked the back of my legs hard. Now cries of pain were wrought from my lips as the spanks struck home with force and an intensity I have never experienced.
A second salvo peppered my bottom, this time aunty Rachel branched out a bit and the burn and sting rapidly built up in the newly spanked flesh. Gasping now interspersed with real tears, as much from the trauma of the hard spanking as from the events leading to this moment. My right hand flew to try protect my bottom from the sting of the spanking as it multiplied exponentially, now it was beginning to hurt, really hurt. Aunty did not miss a beat, she simply changed target; my thighs now bore the brunt of the spanking, Cries of protest followed the fresh burning sensation rapidly building as aunty delivered a series of hard slaps to my legs. Switching target again after disabling my errant hand and locking it up behind my back Aunty fired salvo after salvo at the rapidly reddening sit spots so openly displayed before her. By now the whole of my bottom was as red as a post box. Sobbing replaced the cries for mercy and aunty still spanked on for a further full minute.
Suddenly aunty Rachel stopped spanking, the lull allowed my bum to recover. Slowly she lowered my boxers, her punishing hand now gently rubbing the tenderised cheeks, “ahh a nice shade of pink, but still not red enough, what colour does aunty need to see Mario”?
Struggling to regain some form of composure before replying; “Red ma’am, you want it to be red ma’am, It hurts aunty, it hurts.”
“I know it does my boy, which is why it is called a spanking, you need to understand that the hurt makes all the disobedience go away and teaches my little boy to be good and to listen to what aunty tells him”
With that said Aunty Rachel began slowly spanking, left; right; left; right slowly building up the tempo and intensity until she again was striking at around 60 spanks per minute. Now with my boxers lowered and my bum totally exposed the spanking hurt far more than before in the dozen or so times I found myself upended and bare assed over aunty Rachel’s knee.
My cries grew louder and trying to escape was out of the question, as much as I tried, I was going nowhere thanks to the leg locked over the back of my thighs. Like a child pleading for mercy, cries like “stop it please”; “no more”; “promise aunty”, that got a reply, no lull in the spanking though, just a “what are you promising Mario?”!I will be good , I promise you aunty I will be good, sorry I was so naughty aunty…”, I howled as each spank lit a fire in my butt and once again my hand tried to cover my bottom. As soon as aunty saw my hand fly towards my bottom she switched target again and really laid into my thighs and the back of my legs. How long this phase of my spanking lasted remains unknown, no more than 4 or 5 minutes. It no longer mattered as all the fight was gone and worrying about it was mute.
Dimly I heard aunty Rachel tell me to get up and fetch the brush from where it had laid since my last spanking a month ago. Fetching the brush and cradling my sore bottom in one hand I gave her the brush and started to plead with her; the thought of the hair brush striking my inflamed and swollen butt filling me with dread.
“Please aunty Rachel, don’t hair brush me please I will never disobey you ever again.”
Aunty Rachel merely reached out for my hand and again drew me over her knee, again locking her leg behind me, pinning me in place.
Then I felt a cool sensation spreading across the cheeks of my bottom as aunty gently spread some cream all over my bottom. Although the immediate effect was cooling and soothing, knowing that the cream tended to increase the sting of the spanking, I cried out “please don’t aunty that makes it hurt more when you spank me with the hair brush.” With that the tears began again and the soft cries became shrieks as aunty began to pepper my poor red bottom using that awful brush. Salvo again followed salvo, sometimes three or four spanks before moving on to a seemly untouched spot. Cries came unabated as the full awful effect of a hairbrushing turned me into a little boy once more. I was no longer the mature man, father and grandfather, screaming and crying there instead, was a 10 year old boy.
“Oh God it hurts, please aunty it hurts so much… Nooooooooo…”
During this time, it seemed as though the spanking would never stop, the fire in my bottom quickly rekindled as that awful brush wrecked havoc. Dark purple spots began to form on my sit spots, just under the crease became a mass of bruises as the brush did its awful work.
It was long after the spanks finally stopped falling that surrounding detail and the soft soothing crooning as my aunty gently soothed me calming my raging fear and allowing me to finally leave “spankland” and return to the reality of time. I jumped to my feet, my ruined bottom cradled in my hands, dancing on the spot, doing what all freshly spanked children do.
Unbeknown to me aunty had risen from the spanking stool and seated herself in the middle of the sofa once again. Beckoning to me, she lovingly drew my broken form across her lap. Thinking the spanking was about to recommence drew plea after plea from my lips, hysteria grew as the thought of even more spanking flooded my brain. I tried to get up to run to escape and aunty had to hold me down in place as she gently said; “Mario my love, I am not going to spank you any more today, it is over sweetheart, all over I promise. Aunty simply wants to apply some cream to your bottom.
With that she allowed me to sit sideways on her lap as she very gently soothed my fears and calmed my cries. Holding her tightly I sobbed and cried my heart out, my remorse and sorrow at having gone though such trauma leaving me totally exhausted and needing reassurance.
I vaguely remember telling aunty that I would never disobey her ever again, promising to always remember to take my medication every day and that above all I would be a very good boy for her.
She chuckled at that and as she gently soothed the arnica cream all over my bottom. Gently spreading the cream she apologised for hurting me as yelping at the pain I flinched when a particularly sore place was touched.
Postscript.
It took nearly three days before I could sit down without wincing from the pain and two weeks later there were still dark blue bruises evident.
Then a summons as a note was posted through the door. It read;
“Mario, can you come across the road, I seem to remember I gave you two weeks to recover from your spanking at aunty Rachel, Well my naughty boy, time is up you still have a spanking due and Mr. Smack is waiting for you.”
It was signed; Aunty Nita!
“Agggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”
