The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Monday, October 27, 2014

The View Over His Lap by Ashlynn Kenzie

Today I have romance author Ashlynn Kenzie in the house to talk about her brand new novel, "The View Over His Lap," a spanking romance.
This novel has been published in the Amazon Kindle store and is a Kindle Unlimited selection for those of you that have that. The link is HERE.

A little bit about the book:



Andee Carlisle, a 26-year-old party girl college student is struggling to complete the final course she needs for graduation before her long-suffering father cuts off financial support. She has a problem — the loss of her vision (temporarily, she hopes) to a nasty eye infection. Completing her review of Hamlet seems impossible under the circumstances, until her best friend, Leila, contacts Buckley Resources and arranges for a reader to spend time with Andee and help her prepare for the test.

Retired Coast Guard officer Nick Benjamin is the best Buckley’s has to offer and Shakespeare’s tale is his favorite. Unfortunately for the state of Miss Carlisle’s virgin backside, but propitiously for her future, he is also an experienced domestic disciplinarian who accepts her not only as a student in need of a teacher, but also as a headstrong and misguided young woman in need of direction.

Andee’s frustrations, fears and growing emotional attachment to Nick have erupted in a painful alcohol-related accident and Nick has tried to soothe her physical and emotional feelings. But Andee, in her usual perverse frame of mind, is determined to push him into an encounter that is certain to make her even more uncomfortable.



This is a very poignant romance, the type romance readers love, with a well-crafted domestic discipline subtext.

I'm here with Ashlynn and I had a few questions.



What made you choose a blind girl as the heroine and how does her blindness work into the story?


The idea for the story actually came about because a writer friend got a job reading exam questions for someone who had difficulty interpreting written material within the time limit allowed. I had never thought about anyone having such a job, but once he mentioned the experience, I started thinking of others who might require such services.


Another friend who was going through terrible vision problems with an eye infection came to mind right away. I thought about the difficulty she was facing in every day life and how bravely she was meeting the challenge and just began to wonder how someone who was already dealing with some daunting emotional issues might handle a physical challenge to top it all off.

I wondered, too, how the loss of vision would affect someone’s other senses and, in particular, what it would be like to experience the discipline of a spanking, or corner time, without being able to see what was going to happen. The idea intrigued me, and I hoped it would others.


What is the essence of the romantic conflict between hero and heroine?



They have some difficulty communicating -- partly because Andee, not yet accustomed to fully utilizing her other senses, is hindered by an inability to pick up on the visual signals we depend on without even realizing it to figure out what someone is really trying to tell us, and partly because they are both so sure they will be rejected if their “true” selves are revealed. Andee’s tumultuous relationship with her father also complicates the picture.


Which character is more captured by the notion of spanking as a disciplinary or erotic practice?


That’s a difficult one to answer, because both Andee and Nick know what they want. Nick has the advantage of age and experience, however, while Andee has only imagined what her role might be like.


How does the other one process that?


Nick knows, both intuitively and from Andee’s reactions to their first disciplinary encounter, what she is asking for by her behavior. He is willing to provide what she needs, but he is reluctant to assume the paternal role in her life that he knows she also yearns to have filled.

Andee is feeling her way through the emotional mine field that many of us who are bottoms find ourselves facing as we try to figure out why we so desperately need what we can no longer deny we have to have.

Why have you written the story as two books in one volume?



Initially, I only planned one book. Two problems emerged as soon as I finished it though: I missed my characters terribly and was not ready to let them go, and my unofficial editor told me there had to be more to their story and I must write a sequel that let readers know what happened beyond the surprise ending.

The idea of combining the two books I ended up with came in the form of advice from potential publishers. They assured me their readers did not like sequels. Easy enough to fix.



 Here is an excerpt from the book:
 



 “I got in touch with Leila and told her she had the night off,” he said. “It’s a little after four now. We’ll work until six or so, and then I’ll get us some supper. We should be able to finish up by nine, if you work hard.”
 “You are such a slave driver.”
“And you are such a whiner. Now that we’ve settled our roles in life, let’s talk about Hamlet.
 “But I’m hungry.”
 “Good. Have an apple. I’ll even spread it with peanut butter for you. Trust me. You’ll love it,” he said when she grimaced and recoiled as he pushed the piece he had hastily prepared into her hand.
 “I have bread and jelly. That’s what you do with peanut butter.”
 “Apple is what you do if you want to eat healthy. And next time, buy a brand with less sugar in it.”
 Before she could protest, he began reading, but he noticed from the corner of his eye that she went from tentatively licking to eagerly consuming the apple and its swirl of Jiffy. He could do a lot with her, he thought, given time. Then he stumbled over a simple four-letter word at the very idea.
 Two hours later he finished his fourth glass of water and cleared his throat.
 “Why don’t you find your cap and sunglasses? We’ll walk over to the Sand Castle and get some grilled fish. My treat.”
 “Fried shrimp. And we’re eating outside. Not near anybody either.”
 “Did anyone ever compliment you on your splendid manners and pleasant demeanor?”
 She tossed her head and pointedly refused to answer.
 “Well, there’s a reason why not, missy. Now hustle up.”
 She flounced, grumbling, back to her bedside and, bending down to reach for the purse she apparently expected to be there, got out her sunglasses and put them on, then marched, straight-backed and still fussing, to her bureau and pulled open the drawer to get out her concealing cap.
 Dinner out was not the pleasant diversion he had hoped for. He finally gave up attempts at conversation. They were home again, enveloped in a strained silence of Andee’s design, in less than an hour.
 They put in another two back at the kitchen table, but Nick was uncertain how much she was absorbing of the lesson. Even her posture said her frame of mind was combative.
 “Go ahead and tell me what you’re upset about,” he said finally, “but let me warn you, I won’t tolerate disrespectful behavior or another tantrum. There have been quite enough of those today.”
 “Oh, really.” There was barely concealed rage in her voice. “Well, you’re not the one with glue holding your hand together or patches over your eyes. You’re not the one that got treated like a baby in some stupid doctor’s office with some idiot nurse jabbing at your bum. It’s not you that --” Her voice was rising in pitch and volume and she was half out of her chair, balancing on the table with her good hand and leaning toward him.
 “You’re quite right. But I am the one who is holding you responsible for your outrageous behavior over the last twenty-four hours or so. And I’m about half an inch away from teaching you a lesson you won’t forget anytime soon, young lady. So I suggest you modify your tone and control your actions.”
 She slapped the table half a foot in front of him and then twisted away with a decidedly unattractive sneer on her face to flounce off. “And I suggest you kiss my –”
 Before she could complete the thought or take a first step, he had come to his feet and grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides in the process and forcing her over with the weight of his upper body against her shoulder.
 “I’m. Having. None. Of. That,” he said, emphasizing each word with a firm swat to her bottom that had her yelping and struggling in his hold. He hauled her upright then and, grasping her shoulders, made her face him while he went on in the low, weighted tone she had already come to associate with serious menace. “In fact, little girl, I’m about to show you exactly what happens when you deliberately behave like a spoiled brat. And you can’t say I haven’t already warned you. So don’t bother pretending you don’t know you had this coming.”
 It took her a moment to realize that while he was lecturing her, Mr. Benjamin had also been unsnapping her jeans and shoving them down to her knees. Then he wheeled her around and marched her the few steps toward her sleeping area, a journey she made on stumbling tiptoe while he grasped her waist with both hands and steadied her, lest she take a tumble. She had just formulated the words of outrage she wanted to utter and found the breath to screech them when he sat down and tumbled her across his lap, her arms flying out to catch the weight of her upper body as she landed on the futon, while her legs jackknifed up toward her back.

 He pushed her feet back in the direction of the floor and she tried to lever her upper body upright, but he laid his arm firmly across her back and pinned her to his lap.
 “The more you fight me, the harder this is going to be. You know you deserve this spanking, so it’s in your best interest to take it like a good girl and thank me nicely when I decide you’ve learned your lesson.”
 “Like hell I –”
 “Yes, you certainly will. Especially after that,” he said and set to work, focusing all her attention on her practically virgin bottom, where his broad, hard palm was lighting a fire.
 He peppered her powder blue sheer panties with two dozen sharp, well-spaced and carefully placed smacks before he interrupted her outraged howls with additional lecture.
 “I did not take this job to babysit a spoiled brat. I’ve warned you repeatedly about your behavior and already given you a taste of the medicine that you apparently need to get over being a pain in the rear end. But that spoonful clearly wasn’t enough to cure you, so you’re going to get a bigger dose now, and I can promise you it will be a major pain in your little rear end.”
 With that, he hooked a finger in the elastic around her waist and tugged down the nylon concealing her well-rounded charms. Andee bucked wildly on his lap and struggled to gain her feet, protesting with squeals and shrieks, but he simply shifted her forward a bit, eased his right leg out from under her weight, and then locked it in place over her calves to help frame the recently bared area bounded at the other end by his left arm.
 Then he clamped his jaw and went to work, putting real sting into the effort. The round, pinkened hillocks jiggled enticingly as his palm made repeated contact. He threw preference for pattern aside and spanked randomly, sometimes concentrating on the crown of one cheek, sometimes the outside of the other, sometimes taking both tempting targets into account with solid smacks across the great divide. Finally he moved on to his favorite area and put all his determination into shifting each cheek upwards by turn with well-placed smacks whose purpose was no longer to flatten the target but to make it rise and then tremble alluringly back into place at the top of her white, contrasting thigh. His effort won him outraged howls and then pleas and then – finally – a wail of surrender. When he stopped, it was to swipe his forearm across his glistening brow and, then, to cup the cheeks he had just painted bright pink.

 “That was for the stunt you pulled last night with the whiskey and your little fling this morning.”
 He felt her go still, her body tense with expectation, and her voice silent, for once. His tone and his words had adequately conveyed the message that there was more to come, he felt sure from her response. He let her wonder for a moment, then he unlocked her legs and tugged her upright, watching her pull the hem of her T-shirt down to cover the front juncture of her round little thighs before she shifted her attention to her scalded skin. Standing, he grasped her wrists and anchored them at her sides.
 “No rubbing. Certainly not before we’re through. And not for a while after that. You need to feel every single twinge until you’re determined not to ever need to feel it again. Now, little girl, we’re going to deal with your attitude the rest of the day. Would you like to describe it for me?”
 She sniffed and shook her head, eyes toward the floor, hands fisted where he held them so close and yet so far away from offering relief.
 “Then I’ll do the honors from my perspective. You may certainly tell me if I’m in error, but I warn you to do it respectfully, and I suspect you may pay a bit more heed to that warning now than when your little rosy bare bottom was lily white and protected. You have been deliberately rude. You have operated on the level of a six-year-old, rather than a grown woman. Plus, you have done your best to twist every effort to assist you into some kind of assault against you. In short, you have behaved abominably, and even your sore hand is not sufficient cause for that. Especially not when the injury was your fault. Agreed?”
 “I guess,” she whispered in a tiny voice, wincing as she considered just how her self-pitying attitude had played out.
 “Then I’m sure you’ll agree that you deserve what’s coming. So let’s get it over with.” He let go her arms and grasped her shoulders again, moving her forward in a half circle until she was standing behind the chair. “Bend over,” he said ominously. “Hands on the seat, and don’t make the mistake of reaching back or standing up until I tell you to.”

 She turned to him and opened her mouth to protest, but then she snapped her chin upward and hid her face between her outstretched arms. She moaned at the sound of his wide leather belt schwicking out of the loops and bent her knees in a vain effort to protect what she knew would be his target.
 “Straighten your legs and get your heinie up,” he ordered, calmly doubling the length of supple leather and grasping the buckle and tongue in his right palm. “It’s up to you how many licks this takes. Penitence wins you good girl points. Resistance runs up your naughty tab. Do you understand me?”
 Her voice held a sob when she answered, “Yes,” and then added a quivery, “sir.”
 He stretched the doubled length of leather with a menacing little pop, considering whether she was ready for this next step, and then rested his right hand against the small of her back where it curved over the low chair. Her back tensed when the strip of cool leather caressed her stinging nether cheeks. The dark divide narrowed as she tried to draw into herself, but then, little by little, she not only relaxed beneath his hand but managed to dip her abdomen more into the cushioned back of the furniture so that her bottom reached toward his belt. It was a reaction he knew would not last when she tasted the leather’s hot flavor, but it confirmed that he had judged her needs accurately.
 He smiled and withdrew his hand, taking with it the tender touch of the belt. In its place, he ran a warm palm across the summit of each cheek and then placed his left hand, fingers splayed, across her bent spine, tightened his jaw again, and swept his arm back and up, and then down and across, to kiss her deserving flesh.
 Her knees buckled as she gasped and jerked her head up, but she held her place. He stroked her again with the strap's lashing length.
 He had painted six scarlet stripes across an already deep pink landscape before she began to cry, ten before she begged him to stop. An even dozen brought on short, sharp expressions of her agony and impressive twists of the area he was targeting, accented with knee bends and the lifting of first one foot and then the other.

 “It hurts,” she moaned.
 “Then it’s doing what I meant for it to.”
 “B-but I’m s-sorry.”
 “Good to know.”
 “Stop! Pl-pl-please.” She wailed, trying desperately to turn the target away from him.
 He let the belt lie against her swollen rounds for a moment.
 “If you’re truly sorry, hold your little bottom still and ask me for the rest of what you deserve. One at a time.”
 She considered for a moment, her body trembling with suppressed sobs beneath his left hand.
 “How m-many?” she asked, pitifully.
 “That remains to be seen. Ask until I tell you we’re through.”
 He granted her another full minute of silence before he felt her push her spine a little deeper into the chair, raising her bottom into prime spanking territory once again. 
 “Please spank my b-bottom, sir,” she whimpered.
He grinned, his suspicion confirmed that she had probably run that phrase — a staple punitive exercise in at least three-quarters of the spanking novels ever written — through her imagination with longing dozens of times before, so that she knew precisely what to say. But rehearsing it with no chance of response and repeating it after one experience with reality were two very different things. Andee expressed her surprise at the difference with a very long and pitiful wail when he obliged her.
 He required her vocal cooperation five more times and rewarded her efforts with the sharpest licks yet before he dropped the belt over the arm of the chair, saying quietly as he gently stroked her flaming orbs, “That’s enough, sweet girl. That’s quite enough.”
 She pushed up and flung herself toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head in his chest. “I’m s-sorry. I’m s-so sorry,” she quavered.
 “It’s all right now, sweetheart. Sh-h-h-h, baby. You’re my good girl now, aren’t you? You took your spanking well. I’m proud of you. Here, let’s pull your panties up, but go ahead and kick those jeans off. I don’t think you’ll want to go through what it will take to get them back in place.”
 When he had eased the nylon gently back over her blistered bottom, she managed to free her feet from the confines of the denim and slide the jeans away. Then he picked her up and took the steps necessary to fit her on his lap as he sank down on the futon, her bottom scooted back from direct contact with his thighs. He cradled her head against his shoulder and supported her back with his strong left arm, while he reached across her body and patted her backside soothingly.
 Mr. Benjamin hummed a little song near her ear, and she felt safer and more content than she could ever remember feeling in her life.


Pick this one up, folks. it's a heart-felt romance and very well written. You will not be disappointed. I only hope we'll have much more to come from Ms. Kenzie.

Art by Paula Russell

Sunday, October 26, 2014

F/M Spanking Sunday continues--Beach part 2



Our story from yesterday continues....

After Aunt Emily blistered Andy’s behind, needless to say, we all wanted to see the damage done.  The girls weren’t allowed – by some unspoken rule – but Robert, Jim and I were allowed to see the damage done.  And it was horrendous.  Emily had really done a job on his butt, something Robert assured me was typical and not out of the ordinary for Aunt Emily.

Andy wasn’t particularly happy to be having to show off his blistered behind, but it did seem obligatory for a boy to show the other boys the state of his butt after a really good whalloping like the one Aunt Emily had given him.  I knew if it were ever my turn, I’d have to submit to the same.

Emily had a pillow in Andy’s chair for every meal the next two days.  She didn’t ask.  She never made any statement about it.  She never acted like she had worn his naked behind out.  Everything just went on as if nothing had ever happened.  The only exception was that Aunt Emily did show Andy a bit of more affection and attention for a while.  WE all presumed it was to help him get back acclimated into the group of family and not feel ostracized.

Emily was real good about that. Me, being the youngest, she always took pains to see that I wasn’t left out of things, even if it meant she or Nancy went out of their way to  pay me some attention.  Actually, I liked hers and Nancy’s attention more than the others’.

For a year I couldn’t shake the feelings I had over Andy’s spanking.  During my 6th grade I had a pretty teacher.  She decided to take her paddle to me once; something which I took with mixed feelings – liked it on one hand, didn’t on the other – even though I was well aware at the time that this was no spanking anything like one of Aunt Emily’s.  Still, later that evening I was mixing fantasies about my pretty 6th grade teacher paddling my butt with going over Aunt Emily’s knee or a Real bare bottomed spanking.  The three licks my pretty 6th grade teacher had given me took the place of the spanking Aunt Emily would have given me, leaving me feeling like an Aunt Emily spanking really would be tolerable…even enjoyable after a few hours (since my teacher’s spanking had felt pleasantly warm after a few hours).

Of course all this was severely twisted.  My teacher had only given me a 3 lick warm up reminder; just something to get my attention.  Were Aunt Emily to spank me it would be one of her 100 plus lick, bare bottom, genuine butt blistering ass paddlings.

I hadn’t cried at all when my 6th grade teacher gave me three licks.  In al honesty, I had wanted to.  She spanked Hard, taking a good swing each time.  But she didn’t make me break down bawling.  She could have had she kept paddling me.  There were plenty of fantasies with her taking the place of Aunt Emily as well; with me over my teacher’s knee, pants down, and her wearing my behind out like I’d heard Aunt Emily do to Andy.


As summer approached I became anxious.  Of course I was looking forward to spending several weeks at the beach with Aunt Emily and my cousins.  That was the highlight of my summer.  I couldn’t tell if I was looking forward to or dreading being subject to one of Aunt Emily’s spankings.  But my fantasies increased in frequency.  Almost every night I’d fantasize about being over Aunt Emily’s knee and having her work on my bare behind like I’d heard her do to Andy the previous year.  I could almost feel her thighs beneath my bare hard on, with me driving my hard dick into her with each stinging lick from that paddle of hers.  I’d think of Nancy and Phyllis and Gail outside, listening to me howl under Aunt Emily’s blows and wonder if they’d enjoy it.  I’d envision myself dancing around, holding my butt, still bawling, my pecker on display for Aunt Emily to see and me with no concern for that but only for my behind.

At the same time I didn’t think I really Wanted to get such a spanking.  The 3 lick spanking my teacher had given me on the seat of my pants had stung enough.  I was ready for her to stop after the first lick.  Another lick or two and I’d have been crying, much to my embarrassment.  I was sure at the time she didn’t realize how close she had brought me to tears, but I’m sure now she did.  After all, she had plenty of years’ experience spanking boys too.

I really had no idea how bad one of Aunt Emily’s spankings would hurt, but I had no doubt they hurt a lot.  Andy had given me plenty of proof of that.  He, after all, was two years older than me and he had been bawling like a little baby under her arms.  And Nancy has assured me that every boy Aunt Emily ever spanked acted in the same way.  No boy was Ever a Big Boy once Aunt Emily started spanking him.


Yet a part of me craved that more than anything, and it was almost as if I was determined to work up the courage to get myself one of those spankings before the summer was out.

To this day I don’t know why I did it.  I had never smoked before.  I had never stolen anything before.  But after we’d been at Aunt Emily’s house for a bit over a week, when Robert (then 17) and Andy (14) and I (now 12) rode our bikes into town to get drinks and snacks, I decided to pocket a pack of cigarettes.

Neither of the other two boys saw me.  I was good about watching closely, and would have gotten away with it had it not been at just the time Nancy was taking her break from her job at the book store.  Just as I was pocketing the pack of cigarettes I felt a feminine hand on my shoulder and my heart turned cold.  It was Nancy and she was not a bit amused.

She quietly took me outside, not arousing the attention of the store owner or the other two boys.  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“I was going to pay for them.” I protested.

“Don’t lie to me!” she snapped.  “And even if you were, what do you think you’re doing getting cigarettes?  You are in big trouble, mister.” she informed me.  Already my butt started tingling, and already I was wishing I hadn’t done that.  But it was too late now.

“Please don’t’ tell Aunt Emily.” I begged Nancy, already almost in tears.

“I won’t.” she said.  Then after a pause, “You will.”

“Noooo!” I begged.

“You’re going straight home and tell Mama that you tried to steal a pack of cigarettes.” Nancy told me.  “And when I get home for lunch, you’d Better have told her…because I will.  And if she finds out from me, that’ll only make it worse on you.”

“Nancy no!” I pleaded, but her only response was to turn me around and plant 5 hard swats with her hand on my bottom.  And they Hurt.  They brought tears to my eyes.  They hurt enough to let me know that what Aunt Emily was going to do to me was going to be horrible by comparison.

Looking at Nancy, the love of my life, holding my butt there on the little main street of the little town, everyone watching who wanted to having just seen me get a spanking right there in public, I had the most dejectedly sinking feeling of my life.  I knew what Aunt Emily was going to do to me was going to be the most traumatic experience I had ever gone through in my entire life.  The spanking I had heard her give to Andy last year was going to be repeated…on Me.  And there was nothing I could do to make it any better.  But if I didn’t go straight home and fess up to Aunt Emily right now, it was going to be worse.

It hurt to sit on my bike and ride home.  I could only imagine how much it was going to hurt later.

My butt was still plenty warm from Nancy’s hand spanking when I stood in front of Aunt Emily as she made lunch.  She could tell something was wrong.  “What’s the matter, dear?” she asked in a voice she had never addressed me with before.

“Uh…” I really didn’t want to tell her.  “I…uh…tried to steal a pack of cigarettes.” I blurted out, as if saying it fast would make it go away quick.

Emily stopped what she was doing and turned to me, looking at me with the same look she had given to Andy last year.  “And you decided to tell me this of your own accord?” she asked.

I withered under her gaze.  “Nancy caught me.” I admitted.

Aunt Emily stared at me for several moments in silence.  “You Stole a pack of Cigarettes.” she said.

“I didn’t steal them.” I tried to plead.

“You Tried to.” she corrected herself.

Tears coming to my eyes now, as scared as I’d ever been, “Yes.” I told her.

She looked at me sternly for what seemed like an eternity.  Then the nodded.  “We’ll take care of it after supper.” she told me.

Oh no!  How well I knew what, ‘taking care of it after supper’, meant.  For a year I had dreamed of this.  I’d brought myself of more times than I could count thinking of just what was now really going to happen.  I’d even tried spanking myself with my own hairbrush, imagining it to be Aunt Emily.  But I’d always stop when it really started to hurt.  I knew Aunt Emily wasn’t going to stop when it started to hurt.

I lost all desire to be brave then.  “Aunt Emily please don’t spank me.” I begged her right then and there, tears flowing freely already.

“Harry don’t even try begging your way out of this now.” Aunt Emily told me.  “You told me about it yourself.  That’s to your credit.  I’ll remember that.”

“But I Love you, Aunt Emily.” I pleaded.

She broke her stern demeanor when I said that and took me in her arms.  “I love you too, Harry.” she  assured me while holding me close to her.  “I love you as much as if you were my own.”

Then she told me, “That’s why I’m going to have to spank you.”

I broke down crying when she told me that.  “No, please.” I begged, even though I had a raging erection by then and was keeping my mid section a few inches away from her.

Aunt Emily leaned down and kissed me on the forehead and then told me, “We’ll take care of this after supper.  Now enjoy the rest of the day.” as if I could just go out and have a good time with what was now hanging over me.

The first thing I did when I left the kitchen was to go relieve myself of the raging erection I had.  Granted that was one of the best ever, bringing myself off knowing that Aunt Emily was going to tear into my butt later that evening.  But, as I knew I would, as soon as I was done I felt nothing but dread with no excitement over the matter in the lest.  Only now did I feel what Andy had probably felt; absolute dread of his upcoming fate.

I don’t know if it was my imagination or the severity of Nancy’s hand spanking, but my butt was hot for the rest of the day.  And of course, everyone was watching me, knowing what I was in for later that evening.  I could feel their eyes staring at my butt whenever my back was turned, picturing it turned deep red with splotches of purple.

I was afforded the seat of honor at lunch and later at supper, beside Aunt Emily.  Usually I’d have been delighted to be there, but not that day.  I barely ate anything, even though she encouraged me to.  My appetite was gone.

Even though I had spent the year since hearing Andy’s horrendous spanking fantasizing about getting the same myself, I knew that the reality wasn’t going to be nearly as much fun as was the fantasy.  The fantasy of everything Andy had gone through; the begging in advance to be spared, having my pajamas pulled down to my knees and then hoisted over Aunt Emily’s lap, having her hot pepper my behind for what would seem forever and ever, me bawling and begging her to stop and my pleas falling on deaf ears, dancing around naked with my hands grabbing my blistered bottom, and then knowing everyone had heard it all . . . all that was fun to imagine, but I knew it wasn’t going to be a pleasure to experience in the least.

Already the anticipation wasn’t as much fun as I had imagined it would be.  Nancy’s hand spanking earlier that morning had nearly brought me to tears.  Having my gorgeous cousin’s hand on my 12-year-old bottom had seemed like a great idea in my fantasies, but in real life it hurt far more than I had expected.  And I knew Aunt Emily’s paddle was a lot harder than Nancy’s hand, and I’d be feeling it a whole lot more than five times.

Word quickly spread to the neighbor kids that a spanking was on the agenda for tonight.  Gail and Jim, now 16 and 17, were back that summer and were told that afternoon.  Several other kids were in the area that summer as well, and the news of an upcoming Aunt Emily spanking spread quickly.  Phyllis, Andy’s older sister, now 16, was glad to tell me that I would have a sizable listening audience that night.  Aunt Emily spanked in private, she told me, but the windows were always open onto the screened in porch and I already knew it was a gathering place for kids in the area on most evenings anyway.  There being 5 kids there already, more gravitated to the place after supper.



That afternoon seemed to both take forever and go by far to quickly.  The anticipation became torture, especially with Aunt Emily acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary.  And yet I did not want the evening to come either.

There were moments that I found myself aroused at the thought of having Aunt Emily pull my short pajamas down and taking me, bare bottomed, over her lap.  There were plenty of moments when I found myself red faced at the prospect of having 6 or 8 older kids listening to me hollering and bawling, just like the little kid I’m sure they all thought of me being anyway.  And there were times when all I could think about was how much this was going to hurt.

But I don’t the thought of my impending spanking ever left my mind all afternoon.

I barely picked at supper.  Aunt Emily, as she had done at lunch, had me sitting next to her at supper.  She tried to keep the conversation going as if it were a normal supper.  Some of the others tried to join in.  Phyllis and Robert tried to act as though there was nothing out of the ordinary.  They were, I presumed, both beyond the age of being spanked.  Andy, still within range of a paddling, kept quiet and looked toward me often.  Nancy did as well, but not in fear as Andy was doing but with a sympathetic look on her face.

I was trembling inside the whole time.  When it was time to clear the table my fear was obvious to everyone.  I was trembling openly, just as Andy had been the year before when his spanking was imminent.  Aunt Emily didn’t have to tell everyone to leave us alone once the dishes were in the sink.  They all silently exited to the porch, facing the beach, without being told.  Nancy gave me a pat on the shoulder and another look of sympathy before she left.  She was the last to leave.

A breeze was blowing in from the ocean, blowing the curtains inward and giving us inside some view of the porch from moment to moment.  I knew that meant those on the porch had some view of the living room as well, but this didn’t bother Aunt Emily.  She proceeded as if there were a brick wall between us and them.  I could also hear voices outside that I recognized to be neighbors so I knew my audience was going to be more than just my four cousins.  That mattered to me at the moment.  It would matter a lot less in just a few minutes.

When we were alone Aunt Emily finally told me to go get ready for bed.  That meant brushing my teeth and getting into my pajama bottoms.  She then added, “And when you’re ready, bring me my paddle.  I think you know where it is.”

She finally had a stern look in her face when she told me that, one she had not had all day since she informed me that morning that we would ‘take care of this’ after supper.

As afraid as I was, my fear increased by Aunt Emily’s now stern demeanor (and perhaps increased by that fear), I had as full a hard on as a 12 year old could have by the time I had my underpants off and was putting on my short pajama bottoms (I didn’t sleep in anything else in the warm months).  I hoped it would go down while I was brushing my teeth, but if anything it only got harder.  This brought a fresh source of embarrassment.  I knew she wouldn’t mention it, allowing the older kids to know of it, but I did not want to have a hard on while standing there in front of Aunt Emily awaiting my paddling.  I didn’t want her thinking that I somehow expected to enjoy this.  At the time it never occurred to me that the same thing had probably happened with dozen, if not hundreds, of boys she had spanked over the years.  She was, after all, very pretty; and it’s a safe bet that the majority of boys in her charge developed a crush on her just as strong as mine.  Of course she wouldn’t have spoken to Robert about this, so he wouldn’t have let me know it was ok.  Andy wouldn’t have admitted it to me had he been in the same fix last year.  And, had she spoken to Nancy, her grown daughter, about it Nancy wouldn’t have said anything about it to me to avoid embarrassing me even further.

I had to turn my pajama bottoms a bit sideways to keep my hard pecker from sticking out the front.  The tent was still obvious as I hesitatingly delivered the paddle to Aunt Emily, but I wanted to hide the actual sight of my arousal from her for as long as I could.

I could hear that the conversation outside had subsided to silence.  I knew they were all listening carefully to try to hear every word we said to one another.  I also knew from experience that they wouldn’t have to strain to hear the sound of that paddle on my butt or the sounds of me crying at the top of my lungs, all of which was to be coming in a very short time.  The breeze from the ocean was blowing the curtains open, allowing occasional views on to the porch, and thus of course allowing the big kids out there occasional views in to us.  The thought of all my older cousins and the older neighbor kids hearing, and even seeing, me getting the spanking that was coming turned my face nearly as red as my bottom would soon be.

My hand was trembling when I handed her the paddle.  She took it without ever taking her eyes off mine.  She laid it in her lap, bare since she wore shorts all summer.  Her bare thighs looked so inviting.  I’d spent many hours cuddling in her lap.  This trip to her lap wouldn’t be nearly so pleasant.

With the paddle in her lap and her eyes on mine she gently pulled down my pajamas to my knees.  They fell to my ankles from there on their own.  I was frozen, my hard dick pointed at Aunt Emily.  I was almost hyperventilating and getting a bit light headed.  My hands instinctively went to cover myself, but she took hold of them firmly and held them at my side.


In that position she lectured me on the dangers of smoking.  Frankly, she couldn’t engender in me the fear of smoking that came anywhere near the fear of the spanking I knew I was about to feel.  I probably didn’t catch everything she said since I was so scared at the moment.

I did, however, catch it when she said, “Tonight I’m going to spank you for smoking.  We’ll deal with your stealing later this week.”

Oh no!  I was going to be spanked twice?  I hadn’t expected that.  Why did I ever decide to try to steal cigarettes?  What could have possibly gotten into my mind, unless it was that I subconsciously wanted to do something that would get me such a spanking.  But even then I wasn’t counting on getting TWO spankings in the course of a week.

At this point I was crying.  “I’m sorry, Aunt Emily.” Was all I could say, hoping beyond hope that it would do me some good, knowing it wouldn’t.

“I know you are, Harry.” she said sweetly.  “But you know we’re going to have to do this.  Don’t you?” she asked.

I nodded, as much as I now wanted to think of a good reason why we wouldn’t have to do it.

With that she took me by the waist and hoisted me over her lap, adjusting me so that I was properly balanced, and then raised her right knee, lifting my bottom even higher.  I was breathing heavily, knowing that she had just positioned me so that the most tender part of my young behind – the area where I would be sitting down on the most – was in perfect position to be the target of her paddle.

“Please don’t, Aunt Emily.” I begged softly from my vulnerable position, but of course it was to no avail.


Only seconds later I felt the first lick from her and heard the high pitched ‘Crack’ as her paddle made contact with my untouched bottom for the first time.  Once she started, Aunt Emily didn’t scold or lecture any more, not until she was finished.  And once she started, the licks came hard and fast.  The effects of one lick didn’t have time to sink in before the next one landed and it soon felt like she had turned a blowtorch on to my bare butt, the pain intensifying with each fraction of a second.  I must have been crying out loud by the 4th or 5th lick.  I tried to hold back, trying to be a big boy about this.  But like Nancy had told me, there was no being a big boy when Aunt Emily was spanking you.

At first I simply cried, “Ow!  Owww!  Owwwwww!”, but I was quickly begging her to stop, promising to be good, promising to never – ever – do that again, all to no avail.


At some point I no longer cared what any of the big kids outside heard or even saw.  All I was concerned about was my now flaming bottom.  My intelligible pleas quickly enough merged into bawling and squalling like a little boy half my age.

And still my butt hurt worse with each lick she landed.  She had her left arm firmly around my waist as she kept working on my young, bare, behind for what seemed like an eternity.  I was frantic, wishing it would just stop getting worse, but as long as she spanked it got worse.  And she spanked a very long time.  I couldn’t see anything.  I could only hear the sound of that paddle working on my ass and the sounds of my own bawling and howling.  I could only think about how bad my butt was hurting and how it was still getting worse with each fresh lick.  My bottom felt the size of a pair of bowling balls long before she was finished.


This was definitely NOT the fun experience I had wanted to make it in my fantasies.  I had never thought it really would be, but this was far worse than even my realistic imagination had thought.  This was the most traumatic experience of my 12 years.

I wasn’t even aware when she finally stopped spanking me.  I still howled and squalled at the top of my lungs for what seemed a very long time after I was are she had stopped.  When she lifted me up off her lap my hands immediately went to cover my butt.  I had at some point, kicked off my pajama bottoms and now danced around in front of Aunt Emily totally naked and completely oblivious to my nakedness.  The possibility that the older kids outside might get a view of this spectacle never crossed my mind.  Only the horrible pain in my butt was on my mind.


I must have gone soft real soon after Aunt Emily started spanking me.  I certainly wasn’t thinking about my dick or about hiding it once the first lick or two had landed, and I wasn’t concerned with hiding it now.  I only had two hands and they were occupied with trying to rub some of the pain out of my butt.  Such an effort was futile.

I was still bawling at the top of my lungs when Aunt Emily reached out and pulled me to her, gently taking me into her arms.  “I’m sorry, Aunt Emily.” I squalled, the first intelligible thing I had managed to say in what seemed like hours.

“I know your are, darling.” she assured me, holding me lovingly.  I kept repeating, “I’m sorry.”, knowing nothing else to say.  And she kept telling me that she knew while holding me and caressing me like a much younger child.

She got up, still holding on to me, and we walked over to her big rocking chair.  There she gingerly eased me up into her lap again, only this time for cuddling and cooing.  She positioned me so that my weight was on the middle of my thighs rather than on my bottom, which I don’t think I could have handled then.  And she rocked me and told me how much she loved me until my howls became sobs and then my sobs subsided to soft crying.  She dried my tears and gave me a tissue to blow my nose.  And then went back to rocking and cuddling me. 


I wasn’t even thinking that I was naked, although the only piece of clothing I was lacking from all the other times in her lap were the short pajama bottoms.

I had one arm around her neck and my other hand was still rubbing my butt, knowing that it was going to hurt for a long time after such a whalloping.  It was going to hurt to sit down for a week.

Once I was calmed down, and Aunt Emily had rocked me for far longer than she had spanked me,  she told me in her gentlest, sweetest, voice, “We’ll deal with the stealing whenever you’re ready.  Ok?  But Saturday night at the latest.”  It was then Monday.

I had forgotten about the stealing.  Now the prospect of another spanking on my already blistered bottom froze me in silence for a few moments again.  Then I managed to ask her, “You’re not going to spank me again.  Are you Aunt Emily?”

“Yes, darling.” she told me.  “And stealing is just as bad, if not worse, than smoking.  But you don’t have to worry about that now.  Whenever you feel ready.”

“No.  Please.” I begged in a whining voice, all the steam and fire long since taken out of me.

Aunt Emily just held me close to her and cuddled my head against her shoulder, stroking my hair.  “Shhhh, darling.” she told me softly.  “Don’t worry about anything right now.”  And she kept on rocking me.

She rocked me until I nearly fell asleep in her arms.  I was, needless to say, completely worn out by my ordeal.  Barely awake she got me up and slowly walked me back to the room I shared with Robert and Andy.  The lights were dim.  I only was reminded that I was naked when she handed me my pajama bottoms.  She helped me get back into them and helped me into bed, lying on my stomach.

Aunt Emily then knelt down beside me and stroked my hair a little more and gave me a kiss, assuring me again of how much she loved me.  She pulled the sheet over me and kissed me again, but I don’t remember her leaving the room.  Neither did I hear the older boys come in later.