The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Saturday, October 25, 2014

F/M Spanking Sunday---Summer at the Beach

 I have a folder in my library called "Aunts." Its origin is lost in the mists of time, but it's loaded with nothing but F/M stories collected over the years in which someone's aunt is a no-nonsense disciplinarian. Why aunts? I think for two reasons. First they are in natural positions of authority for visiting nephews, but more importantly it's easier to sexualize spankings when they are dished out by aunts. Teachers are also popular disciplinarians but the setting is more formal and less susceptible to sexual escalation. These accounts are always first person accounts. Someday I'll have to really try and find one that isn't. This one is fairly typical, but it's better written than most. The author is someone named "Oscar."

When I turned 11 I thought I had been spanked; not by my parents, they never spanked, but by a teacher or two.  Perhaps the fact that my own parents didn’t spank had something to do with my fascination for spankings.  A spanking in school, no matter who was getting it, drew my full attention.  And they played major roles in my fantasies.  This was back in the 60s when paddles were in common use in schools, and I had gotten 3 licks from a couple of my teachers.  At the time I was convinced those were real spankings.  They did sting my but pretty good, for a little while.

The summer after I turned 11 I got a better idea of what a real spanking was.  That was the first summer I got to spend a few weeks at the beach with my aunt Emily.  She was my father’s older sister.  Aunt Emily was in her mid 40s or so at the time.  She had grown up with two younger brothers, and I had been told that she spanked them when they were kids.  She was about 9 years older than my father, her youngest brother, and 5 years older than Uncle Edward.

Aunt Emily’s husband had died a number of years earlier.  I didn’t even have any vivid memories of him.  They had both been teachers and Emily had, for as long as I could remember, taught at a private school near the coast.  It was a co-ed school by day with boys boarding there.  Emily and her two children lived on the grounds and Aunt Emily was housemother to a dorm of 30 boys ranging in age from 10 through 13.  I was aware that she spanked them when the need arose.  About this is had plenty of fantasies as well, always envisioning myself being the recipient of one of her over the knee, bare bottomed, paddlings.

My cousin Nancy, Emily’s daughter 8 years my senior, told me about her mom’s spanking the boys.  Nancy probably realized I had a fascination for spankings – at least for her mom’s spankings – from the fact that I quizzed her about them in great detail.

I thought Aunt Emily was a very pretty woman.  Older than my own mother by several years, but I thought she was built like Wonder Woman.  She had an effervescent personality that always brought out a big smile from me.  I was the youngest of her nieces and nephews and always felt extra special.  She probably had all her nieces and nephews feeling extra special.

I thought she must be the kind of teacher any kid would love to have.  I was always learning from her; cool stuff, interesting stuff.  I learned about art, how neat good poetry sounded when read aloud, how good it felt to say speeches from Shakespeare aloud.  I also learned about world geography, exotic and faraway places, history.  Even neat stuff that happened with numbers and relationships; angles, geometry, and trigonometry.  She taught me how to shoot pool – what an absolutely COOL thing for an aunt to do.

It was also from her that I learned what a real spanking was.

Emily’s two children, Nancy who was 19 when I was 11 and Robert who was 16, had both been on the receiving end of their mother’s paddle when growing up, as had many of the boys in her dorm over the years.  I never quizzed them about any specific spanking they had gotten, but did want to hear all I could about her ritual for spanking the boys in her charge.  I had a crush on Nancy, as I did on her mother.

Aunt Emily had bought a house on the beach back before property prices there started going up.  Since she and her kids lived on campus where she worked, she was able to buy a pretty nice beach house.  She kept it furnished and rented out a good part of the year so that it more than paid for itself.  But during summer break from school she moved in there with Nancy and Robert, her kids.  When we got old enough, we (her nieces and nephews, could come stay too.  This became a great treat, spending several weeks with Aunt Emily and my cousins at the beach.  It was something we all looked forward to.  I was the last to become old enough to go there.  I had gone with my parents many times, but only once I turned 11 were my parents and Aunt Emily in agreement that I was old enough to go ‘alone’.  And I was the last to become old enough.

Also there, along with Nancy who was 19 that summer and Robert who was 16, were Uncle Edward’s kids Phyllis who was also 16 and Andy who was 13.  Nancy had a summer job in a bookstore in town nearby.

Back then there were a few hotels and motels along the beach, but none of the high rises that there are now.  In the area where Aunt Emily’s house was there were mostly other houses like it, spaced 20 to 30 yards apart or so.  It wasn’t crowded at all but was populated.  Traffic was so mild that we cold ride our bikes into town except on weekends.  Even then weekends did tend to fill up and traffic got heavy, or so it seemed at the time.  Town was about a half mile from the house.

The first thing on my mind when we all arrived was to go swimming.  I wasn’t alone.  We all quickly changed into our swimsuits and went in the ocean for several hours.  There was a shower outside the house for rinsing off the salt water and rinsing out our swimsuits before hanging them out to dry.  The enclosure around the shower was not real substantial and easily gotten around were someone so inclined.  It was presumed, of course, that everyone’s privacy would be respected.

The second thing on my mind was to see Aunt Emily’s paddle.  Andy, then 13, was all too happy to show it to me when we had a chance to slip away from the others.  It was kept, as he showed me, handing on the inside door or Aunt Emily’s closet.  When I saw it hanging there it nearly took my breath away.  I froze in awe as I looked at the piece of oak, its working end about 10 inches long and a quarter inch thick by about 3 inches wide, with handle  Full of tiny holes, drilled at random.  I asked Andy why the holes.  He said it mad the paddle hurt worse, but couldn’t tell me why only that it did.

I worked up the courage to give myself one mild swat on my butt and was surprised as how much just a slight but sharp tap did sting, even over my shorts.  Andy told me that Aunt Emily wouldn’t go so easy on my but if she ever took that paddle to me.  I asked him if she’d ever spanked him with it and he told me that she had once.  The previous summer he and one of the neighbor boys had been playing with firecrackers, unsafely as it turned out.  They’d set one off in a mailbox.

As a result he found himself over Aunt Emily’s lap that evening, pajamas down, and her working on his bottom long after he was bawling like a baby.  He told me that all the begging and pleading and promising to be good didn’t have any effect on Aunt Emily once she’d decided to spank.  “Cry all you want.” he said.  “All the crying in the world won’t make her stop or even lighten up just a little bit.”

Leaning down to make his point clear to me, Andy told me, “She will paddle you so bad you’ll think you’ll never be able to sit down again.”  Then he added, “And Everybody’ll be listening.”

“You…you mean she does it in front of everybody?” I asked, starting to tremble.

“No, not in front of everybody.” Andy said.  “But all the windows are open all summer and everybody’ll be out on the front porch, listening.  And since she waits till after supper to do the spanking,” he pointed out, “all the neighbors and everybody knows you’re gonna get it.  So they all come to listen.”

Pointing his finger in my face Andy made his final point clear.  “And everybody will get to hear You bawling like a baby, begging and crying and promising to be good forever, and still she’ll keep on paddling your butt and we’ll all be listening to every lick she plants and every squall you make.”

Andy clearly enjoyed the fact that he was scaring the living daylights out of me.  Part of me was terrified at the thought of a spanking like that from Aunt Emily.  Part of me delighted in the idea of getting it really good from her like that, with Nancy and Phyllis and the neighbor kids all listening.

But I didn’t really want that to happen to me enough to go out of my way to try to make it happen.  The fantasy was enough . . . for now I guess.

As much as Andy was enjoying scaring his younger cousin, the truth was that he would be feeling Aunt Emily’s paddle on his naked bottom again before I ever felt it.

I liked all my cousins.  But Robert (then 16) preferred to hang with friends his own age, and Phyllis.  Phyllis, being 16 as well, thought Andy and I were far too immature for her to hang with much.  Nancy, on the other hand (19 at the time) had outgrown needing to prove she was more mature than her 11-year-old cousin and I could talk with her often.  In my eyes at the time she was fully grown, as much as was Aunt Emily.

So later that day, while swimming in the ocean, I asked Nancy why it was that a paddle with holes in it hurt worse than one without.  She immediately cautioned me against snooping around in other people’s belongings.  It was clear to her that Andy had shown me her mom’s paddle and it had aroused my curiosity.  I think Nancy already knew I had an interest in spankings since I had asked her often about her mother spanking the boys at school.

She explained about how the holes reduced wind resistance and allowed the paddle to move faster with the same amount of effort, and how the little holes tended to pinch bare flesh when they landed.  My butt tingled as she spoke.  She assured me that I didn’t want to learn first hand how much her mom’s paddle stung, promising me that when her mom spanked she spanked Hard and she spanked a Long time.

“Mama’s been spanking naughty boys for 25 years now.” she said.  “And she’s probably spanked over 100 behinds in that time.  She knows how to spank.  And every boy she spanks is crying like a baby long before she’s finished with them.  No boy is a Big Boy once he goes over Mama’s knee.”

My bottom tingled even more at Nancy’s admonition.  “But she Likes me.  Right?” I asked her.

“Of course she does, Harry.” Nancy told me with a sweet smile.  “She loves you as much as she loves the rest of us.  But that won’t stop her from spanking you.” she said.  “She loves all the boys in her dorm at school too.  But she usually spanks them all at least once in a school year.”

“When she has to spank one of them,” she said, “she has him come to our house after supper.  Mama saves spankings until the last thing of the day.  I think it’s both so that she won’t spank anybody when she’s still mad, and also so that he doesn’t have anything he has to do after that but go to bed.  One of her spankings will take everything out of a boy.”

I must have appeared frightened by her saying that because Nancy continued, “She takes them into her study.  We can’t see it but we can sure hear it.  She has them bawling real quick, and she keeps it up for a long time.  Sometimes Robert and I try to count the licks.  We usually have a different count, but it’s always over 100.”  I’m sure my fear showed at this revelation even though my bottom was throbbing by now.

“They always cry a long time after she’s finished.” she said.  “But Mama will hold them and rock them for as long they want after, so that they can go back to the dorm acting like big boys again.  I think they all try to tell the other boys that they took it ‘Like a Man’.  They never do,” Nancy told me, “but Mama lets them pretend they did to the other boys anyway.  And then she never mentions it again.”

After thinking over all this for a few moments I asked Nancy, “Do you have to get a spanking to get rocked?”  That part sounded real pleasant.

“No.” she smiled sweetly.  “Not at all.”  I think Nancy passed along to Aunt Emily that she thought I might like being held and rocked again, like she used to do when I was much younger because there were several evenings that summer when, after a particularly hard day of swimming and playing, Aunt Emily held me and rocked me until I was nodding off and needed help getting to bed.

That conversation stuck with me.  I didn’t want Aunt Emily mad at me.  But the thought of having her pull my pants down and take me over her lap for a really good spanking was something I couldn’t shake either.  I even toyed with the idea of thinking of something I could do to earn a mild spanking.  But I had been given the distinct impression that Aunt Emily didn’t give ‘mild’ spankings, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be getting a real one from her, especially since I had nothing to reference it by.

That reference came a week or so later.  Poor Andy.  One of the neighbor girls, Gail, was just too much for him to resist.  She was 15 that summer and Andy’s sister Phyllis hung with her quite a bit.  One day Gail and her older brother Jim, who was Robert’s age, were having lunch with us.  They had brought clothes to change into after swimming in the morning.  Aunt Emily didn’t allow us to go back into the water until at least an hour after eating; something about stomach cramps.  And she also didn’t allow wet swim clothes to be worn in the house.  So we’d all shower, rinse out our swimsuits, and change into dry clothes before going inside for lunch and rest after.

Well, Andy was hot for Gail.  I didn’t blame him a bit.  To my 11 year old eyes, all these girls were not only grown but also beautiful.  And since most of us wore either swimsuits or skimpy summer clothes the whole time we were at the beach, they all became just too tempting for Andy to resist.  He just couldn’t resist the temptation to try to get a peek at Gail through the flimsy protection around Aunt Emily’s outside shower stall.  It was, after all, just an old shower curtain strung up around the shower.

Nancy was at work during mid day, but Andy’s sister Phyllis spotted him slipping back toward the shower area while the rest of us were hanging out in the front of the house.  She caught him, grabbed him by the arm dragging him away and called for Aunt Emily.  Needless to say, we all knew Andy was in some serious hot water.

Aunt Emily came out from the kitchen where she was finishing lunch to hear what was the ruckus.  Andy was pale as a sheet, and obviously terrified; as much by his sister’s shouting as anything else.  But I think we all knew Andy had just earned himself a spanking.

Aunt Emily grabbed him by the arm, spun him around, and gave him 5 hard smacks on his tight, wet, swimsuit.  Andy had an expression of shock and a silent scream while those licks were landing on his butt and I had no doubt that they hurt…for real.

Aunt Emily then spun him to face her and, with her teeth clenched, told him, “We’ll finish this after supper.” and then lightly shoved him away, still glaring at him.  I’d never seen Aunt Emily so pissed off.  All of the rest of us kids were stone silent.

She then turned and went back into the house with Andy standing there, tears in his eyes, rubbing his butt, fear taking over him as it sunk in that he was going to get another one of Aunt Emily’s for-real behind blisterings after supper that evening.

Phyllis and Gail both looked to Andy with a smug expression, as if gloating over his misfortune.  Robert and Jim had sympathy for him, knowing what he was facing.  I was in shock.  I’d never seen Aunt Emily actually spank anyone before, as she’d just done to Andy.  I felt myself getting hard as my own bottom tingled at the prospect of the really good spanking that Andy was going to be getting later that evening.

During lunch I learned another of Aunt Emily’s rituals.  She had Andy sit next to her during lunch, as she did later at supper.  He didn’t eat much, as expected.  His eyes kept darting to Aunt Emily for any sign of her mood, which remained calm now (once she had calmed down).  In fact, she pleasantly pulled Andy into the conversation more than once at both meals, which I’m sure only served to remind him that she was going to wear his butt out in due time.

When Nancy got home from work I tried to stay near her whenever I could.  Well, I did this all the time since I had a real whopper of a crush on her, but today I did because I was genuinely scared.  I’d never been around one of Aunt Emily’s Real spankings before.  And it was clear that Andy was in a great deal of distress.

Bear in mind that Andy was 2 years older than me.  And he was also the only one of my cousins – with the exception of Nancy, who was gone all day – that would hang with me.  I looked up to him for guidance and advice.  The thought of what he had hanging over his head sent chills through me.  . . .   But it also excited me to no end.  As I’ve said, I’d fantasized many times about going over Aunt Emily’s knee, pants down, and having her blister my 11 year old bottom.  The idea of Gail, Phyllis, and Nancy listening to me squalling while it was going on only got me more aroused.

Part of me would give anything to change places with Andy as he sat next to Aunt Emily at the dinner table.  The other part was terrified at the thought of what was coming.  Andy, in my eyes, was a big buy.  The others were grown, Andy was big.  And it was obvious that he was extremely concerned about the spanking that was coming his way.

Before she left for supper at her own house, Gail had asked Aunt Emily if she and Jim could come back ‘and play’ after supper, to which Emily responded, “You’re welcome here any time, Gail.”  I knew that was her way of telling her that she could come back and listen to Andy being spanked.  It sent a chill into my stomach.

When supper was finished and the dishes were cleared, Aunt Emily said, “Andy, get ready for bed.”  Then she told the rest of us, “The rest of you wait outside, please.”

We went only so far as the screened in front porch.  I’d have gone as far as the beach had the rest of them gone, but they didn’t.  Everyone wanted to be as close to Andy’s spanking as they could get without being a part of it.  Gail and Jim both came by.  They were waiting outside when we all went to the front porch.

The boys who were there all slept in the same room.  Short pajamas were all the others wore.  I just wore my under pants, as I always did at home.

It wasn’t long before we heard Aunt Emily talking sweetly to Andy.  I couldn’t understand all she said, but I could understand Andy’s, “I’m sorry, Aunt Emily.  I won’t ever do it again.”  And it was clear that he was crying already.

“I know you won’t, Andy.” I did hear Aunt Emily say, but I couldn’t understand the rest.  I’m sure it was both a lecture and an assurance that this was to assure that he’d remember not to do that again.

Then I distinctly heard, “Please don’t spank me, Aunt Emily.”  But it evidently did the boy no good, for a few seconds later we all heard the loud, sharp, cracks of Aunt Emily’s paddle landing on bare bottom.

She spanked him hard and she spanked him fast.  And she spanked him, and she spanked him, and I didn’t think she’d ever stop spanking him.

Andy managed to take the first few licks in silence.   Then, “No!  Stop!” came from the living room.  And soon, with repeated loud sharp smacks from her paddle, “I’m sorry, Aunt Emily!”

Soon he was bawling and begging and pleading for Aunt Emily to stop spanking him, but she wouldn’t stop.  She wouldn’t even slow down or slack up even just a little bit.  She just kept on spanking Andy’s poor butt for ever and ever and the licks kept coming down on the boy just as hard and just as fast as when she started.  And all Andy’s begging and pleading didn’t do him any good in the least, but he kept begging anyway until all he could do was bawl and blubber.  And still Aunt Emily kept spanking him just as hard and just as fast as when she started, not paying a bit of attention to all his crying and squalling and bawling.

My eyes must have gotten wide as plates hearing the severity of the spanking she was laying on Andy.  Nancy, whom I’d chosen to sit close to on the veranda, put her arm around me and pulled me close to her.  We listened as Andy became less and less coherent and very quickly broke down into  blubbering and bawling like a little boy.

And Aunt Emily kept paddling his butt long after he’d broken down.  Squalls and bawling were all we heard, accompanied by loud swats of Aunt Emily’s paddle on the boy’s bared bottom, for a very long time.

We heard lots of, “I’m sorry.”s and, “I won’t ever do it again.”s and “I’ll be good.”  And soon enough we heard lots of, “Please stop!”  But none of those pleas did Andy the slightest bit of good.  Aunt Emily just kept on working on the poor boy’s naked behind until she thought he had paid for his misdeeds in full.  All the pleas and all the promises in the world never slowed her down.

Soon enough Andy’s pleas became simply bawling and squalling.  Nothing he said, or tried to say, was intelligible.  Only squalling under the hands of Aunt Emily’s paddle.  And she kept working on him as if nothing could slow her down.

Gail and Phyllis seemed very self satisfied listening to this.  Jim and ?Robert weren’t so much, but seemed stern and felt it justified.  Nancy’s concern was with me and how shocked I was to hear sweet Aunt Emily blistering a boy’s behind like she was obviously doing, and hearing my older cousin bawling and squalling like a little baby under her administrations. 

Finally, when the spanking stopped, I could breathe again.  But Andy didn’t stop crying.  He kept bawling for a long time after that, just as Nancy had told me boys always did.

“I counted 117.” Robert said.  After a moment’s thought I realized he was trying to count the licks.

“I counted 122.” Nancy said.

“120.” Said Jim.

“122.” Gail said.

Aunt Emily spanked hard and fast.  It was hard to keep count of her licks.  She didn’t give the boy any time to think about the last one before she planted the next.

I figured 122 must be the number of licks Andy\ got.

I looked up to Nancy, who still had her arm around me, for some sort of word.  She just looked back down to me with an expression that said, “You don’t want her to do that to you.”  I snuggled up closer to her and got harder with every second.

Just as Nancy had promised, Andy kept crying long and long after Aunt Emily had finally stopped spanking him.  There weren’t any ‘big boys’ once Aunt Emily had them over her knee.  We could hear that he was dancing around the living room, squalling bloody murder, for quite some time when she finished working on his behind.  I pictured the scene inside vividly.  Still a part of me longed to be in Andy’s position.  Still another part of me was terrified at the prospect of being in Andy’s position.

As Andy’s squalling subsided to sobs we could hear  the movement stop and the creaking of Aunt Emily’s rocking chair start.  Her voice, now soothing and sweet again, could be heard, although I couldn’t understand what she was saying.  Andy’s sobs didn’t let up a bit.  He was still crying loudly from the blistering she had given him.

The rocking and cooing, accompanied by Andy’s low bawling, kept up much longer than the spanking itself had.  Finally, gradually, his bawling subsided and after a while we could hear Aunt Emily leading him back to our bedroom.  And then silence reigned.

The whole ordeal may have lasted a half an hour, although to me it seemed like forever.  No doubt it seemed like forever to Andy as well.  Gail and Phyllis took great delight in Andy’s punishment.  Nancy still held me close to her.  I was still rock hard and didn’t want to have to get up for fear of the tent in my shorts.

Eventually Aunt Emily came to join us on the screened in porch.  After she had sat amongst us, all of us in silence, for a few minutes, she said to Gail, “Andy apologizes.”

Nestled safely in Nancy’s arms I gazed at Aunt Emily.  I’d never seen (heard) that side of her before although I knew it existed.  I desperately wanted to go off to myself and bring myself off over what had just transpired, but didn’t dare.  I did bring my knees up to my chest to try to cover my erection, in case anyone noticed.

“Don’t Any of you tease Andy about this.” Aunt Emily told us softly.  “He’s had all the punishment he deserves.  You are all to act as if this never happened.  Is that clear?” she asked.

We all agreed.

“Anyone who thinks this was funny, and wants to tease Andy,” Aunt Emily added, “can get the very same thing he did.  And you can see how funny you think it is then.”

No way was I going to tease Andy about it anyway.  But I expect it hit a note with Phyllis and Gail.

Emily sat down on the glider with me and Nancy.  I stared at her in awe, having never seen anything but sweetness and light from her before today.  I think it was a nod from Nancy that got her attention to the way I was looking at her, but Aunt Emily soon reached out her arm for me to come to her, which I did with a bit of trepidation.

She snuggled me close to her, all the warmth I knew she had in her pouring out to me.  I looked up to her with an awe I’d never had for her before.  Saying nothing she leaned down and kissed me on my forehead and hugged me close to her with both arms, and I practically climbed into her lap as she did.

I almost wanted to beg her to take me inside, pull my pants down, and give me a hand spanking…just a little one.  I sure as hell knew I didn’t want the kind of spanking I’d just heard her give to Andy.  Good Lord a’ Mercy, she forever more tore his ass UP.  My fantasies loved the idea…my reality wasn’t so sure.

But I knew I did love her taking me in her arms and rocking in the glider.  And I ardently Loved it when she’d take me to her rocker after everyone else had gone to bed, after that, and take me in her lap and rock me…and rock me…and rock me.  It was pure heaven.

But I never forgot Andy’s spanking.  Every time Aunt Emily was holding me and rocking me, I was remembering that spanking, and remembering his howls and squalls and bawling, and picturing myself in that same situation over Aunt Emily’s lap.  Being in her arms and In her lap (as opposed to Over it) was a decidedly excellent option.  But still the thought of getting a very real, very severe, bottom blistering from Aunt Emily would not be far from my mind.

The entire time I was in her presence the rest of that summer vacation, and especially when I was in her lap while she was rocking me, the thought that kept going through my mind was, “Good Lord, this beautiful woman will Spank Meeeeee!”  And I did bring myself off more times than I can count to that thought…for the rest of that summer and for the coming year.

It was to be another full year before I learned first hand what an Aunt Emily spanking really felt like.

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