The following story depicts non-consensual physical discipline between adult and teenaged participants. Those offended by graphic descriptions of corporal punishment should read no further. This is entirely a work of fantasy, and does not advocate the abuse of minors in any way, shape or form. All characters and events represented herein are completely fictional.
OLD FAITHFUL
1.
“Hold it right there young lady!!”
Allison Fairfield froze in shock, eyes swiveling towards the kitchen door. A cold finger ran the length of her spine. She knew that tone, recognized the naked anger in her Aunt's voice. It was a tone she had come to fear over the past three years, one she'd learnt to treat with the utmost respect. Her pulse leapt into overdrive as the adrenalin hit her bloodstream. She’d been caught sneaking in through the back door, and now she was in trouble.
Literally breathless with surprise, Allison turned to face the tall, blond virago looming in the doorway. Julia Conway stood with her hands straddling her wide hips, face simmering with rage and relief. Relief because her wayward niece had finally arrived home; rage because it was two-thirty in the morning. She loomed in the doorway, staring down at her niece in slow burning contempt.
"Where have you been?" Julia demanded, her words slicing the air like a razor. Allison flinched like a frightened child, her mind whirling with panic. Aunt Julia wasn't just angry. She was utterly furious. Her eyes glittered with emerald fire, her mouth was a taunt red line. Allison could almost feel the heat radiating off her in blistering waves. She wavered before that scalding gaze, frantically searching for an excuse, an escape route; some pretext by which she could evade imminent justice.
Nothing much came to mind.
She'd been caught red-handed, after all. All her lies and schemes and covert little deceptions had come to nothing: Julia had snared her with an almost dismissive ease, laying the trap with the confidence of long experience. What had she been thinking, creeping through the kitchen like some rank amateur? Julia Conway was a predator, patrolling her territory like a hungry barracuda. Allie had seriously under-estimated her Aunt's considerable intellect, and now the mistake was going to cost her.
Dearly.
"I assume you realize what time it is," Julia said, striding into the kitchen with a menacing, determined step, "I've had the police out looking for you since midnight, Allie!"
"The police?!" Allison cried, her voice high and thin, "Aunt Julie, you didn't -"
"Yes I did. They weren't terribly impressed - and neither was I. I've warned you before about your curfew. Ten-thirty by the latest - no exceptions." She halted two paces from the girl, her lean, pantherish figure framed in a rectangle of fluorescent light. Her glare could have felled a Minnesota Bull. Allison wilted in open dread, knowing what was coming next.
"B-but it w-wasn't my fault, Aunt Julie", she stammered, falling back from that livid, unforgiving gaze, "I just d-didn't -"
“I don’t care what your story is, young lady!” Jules cut her off, voice rising by at least two decibels, “if you're late, you call home! That's the rule, Allie - and you know it!!” Which was true. She had drummed this precept into the girl's head every week for the last ten years, ever since she'd first moved in. There was no room for misunderstanding under Julia Conway's roof. Lower lip wobbling in dismay, Allison found herself reduced to the status of a pleading child.
"Please Aunt J-J-Julie," she began, desperate to avoid the punishment she could feel hanging over her head, I'm ruh-really s-sorry -"
"Not as sorry as you're going to be!" Julia interrupted, dismissing the girl's apologies with an impatient wave of her hand, "I think it's time you were reminded who sets the rules in this house. Now - go to your room and change out of those clothes. I'll be along to deal with you in ten minutes."
Allie's mouth flopped open. The verdict had been reached, her worst fears confirmed.
"No, no, PLEASE Aunt Julie," she wailed at the top of her lungs, "I don't want a SPANKING!!"
"Well, a spanking is exactly what you deserve," Julia replied, her expression literally blazing with threat, "Now get to your room."
"Aunt Julie -"
"This INSTANT!!" Julia yelled.
Bursting into a squall of frightened tears, Allison fled the kitchen, wailing in misery as she bolted down the hallway. Julia watched her from the kitchen door, her face lined with maternal displeasure. She'd had it up to here with the girl’s willful disobedience; her dishonesty; her malicious, lying deceit. Here she was, skulking around the house at two-thirty in the morning, crying innocent and reeking of Jim Beam. Did she think she was an idiot? Came down in the last shower?
By God, she was going to teach that girl a lesson she would never forget!! Allie’s bottom was long overdue for a spanking, and Julie was determined that the debt would be paid in full. As for the method of payment … well, this required far more than a few glancing slaps to the rear. It was time for a good, healthy dose of Old Faithful. It was, after all, a long established family tradition, one which never failed to achieve the desired results. Allison’s cheeks would be smarting for weeks to come; she’d see to that personally. She’d already paid a visit to the girl’s bedroom in preparation for the main event. She could well imagine the look on Allie’s face when she realized precisely what she was in for.
Yes, Julia thought to herself, hitching up her jeans an inch or two, Old Faithful will do nicely on this occasion.
2.
Allison sprinted down the corridor, choking back her tears like a little girl. Her head was spinning with apprehension; she simply couldn’t believe this was happening again. She was going to be spanked. She knew from prior excursions over Julia’s knee that the pain would be excruciating. Julia Conway was a world-class spanker, having had close on a decade to perfect her technique on Allie's defenseless hynie. The knowledge of her impending punishment had her weeping with terror. Could there be anything worse than a hot, throbbing bottom?
Aunt Julie was a most formidable woman: strict, uncompromising, and self-assured. Undisputed mistress of her domain, her decisions were both ruthless and intractable, particularly where matters of discipline were concerned. She had established a strict regimen of conduct governing her ward's behavior, under which the slightest transgression would be met with the most humiliating of penalties.
No, there was nothing worse than a well-smacked fanny. It was something Allie detested from the very core of her being. Her Aunt's spankings were absolutely degrading; an embarrassing, juvenile form of correction that she sought to avoid at all costs. Of course, evading justice was no longer an issue; judgment had been passed, the sentence handed down. Allie was way past the point of no return.
And she knew it.
Sobbing with apprehension, Allison burst into her room and made straight for the bed. What was she going to do; how was she going to escape? Her heart was literally pounding in her chest. Warm tears spilled down her cheeks. Biting hard on her lower lip, she willed herself to stay calm. She had to pull herself together, think straight, form a plan. Outright acquittal was obviously out of the question, but plea-bargaining might be a possibility, even at this late stage.
Maybe she could talk her Aunt down to five minutes rather than the usual ten. They were both adults, both rational human beings. Surely there would be room for negotiation. She'd only been a little late (well, four hours actually), it wasn't as if she'd come home reeling drunk (not this time, anyway). There had to be some loophole, some technicality, some mutually satisfying agreement they could reach with a little judicious discourse.
Unfortunately, Allison was out of ideas. She’d never had much success arguing the case for the defense, and the present situation seemed little short of hopeless. There were no mitigating circumstances, no alibis, no grounds for appeal. She couldn’t claim ignorance of the law, couldn’t plead the Fourth. The sentence had been passed and justice would be served to the fullest extent of the law.
She was trembling on the verge of hysteria; the fear of an imminent spanking was overwhelming. She was literally seconds away from discipline, and nothing short of divine intervention would divert Julie’s palm from her bottom. Unfortunately, her prayers were most unlikely to be answered, considering the recent omens. If she’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, then she was very sadly mistaken. Hesitantly crossing the room, Allison began to understand the full extent of her predicament:
Pausing in front of her bed, she stared down at the special gift Aunt Julia had left for her.
Her jaw dropped in mute shock, her knees buckled with sudden panic.
Lying on the coverlet was a polished cedar hand-paddle.
Old Faithful.
Nooooooo, Allie moaned under her breath, not the paddle, not the paddle, PLEASE God, not the paddle again!! A moist flush engulfed Allison’s belly. She should have known what to expect, should have seen this coming. She knew her Aunt well enough to have second-guessed her, at least in this regard. She backed slowly away from the bed, head reeling with adolescent misery. Old Faithful was a personal message from her doting aunt, an unmistakable sign that her penalty would be painful beyond conception.
Aunt Julie believed that a red hot derriere was the best deterrent to future misconduct. It wasn't enough to turn Allie over her knee like a naughty five-year old, not by a long shot. Subsequently, her spankings were an epic of punishment; an ordeal few girls her age could even imagine. Vigorous though her Aunt's hand could be, it was nothing compared to the paddle. That glistening brown surface could raise blisters the size of dinner plates on her tender young buttocks, and the afterburn often lasted for days!
It was so unfair, so unjust. So wrong. She hated being treated like a little girl, hated dropping her knickers and presenting her nude, white buttocks for inspection. She loathed the wailing, tremulous tone of her voice when punishment was imminent. Going over Julia’s knee was the ultimate act of submission, a complete surrender of her most basic, human rights. If only she had the courage to stand up to her Aunt's domineering presence; summon up the nerve to defy her commands. She often fantasized about casting off her shackles; facing her nemesis down and emerging triumphant from this incessant battle of wills.
Needless to say, Allison knew that was never going to happen. Refusal was out of the question; she'd spent too many years under Julie's thumb to resist her influence. The mere threat of a hot, throbbing bottie was enough to reduce her to tears. Julia was so much stronger than she was, so confident and self-assured. Allie could barely look her in the eye at the best of times. The spankings were inevitable, unavoidable, a consequence of her own natural timidity. She would simply have to live with them.
Today more than ever.
Whimpering in despair, she took off her denim jacket and started unbuttoning her blouse. She had maybe ten minutes to get ready, and she couldn't afford to delay a moment longer. There was a rigid protocol she had to follow, a ritual she had observed for the last ten years. Julia insisted that she submit to her spankings wearing nothing but her bra and panties (as a little girl, she’d often been smacked in her underwear; immediately before bed so that she’d spend the night with a hot, stinging bottom) If she wasn't ready by the time Julie arrived, she’d be certain to suffer an extra minute or two under the paddle.
Hastily shrugging off the blouse, Allison reached back to loosen her scanty red mini, groping for the zipper with trembling fingers. The enormity of her punishment filled her mind; she could already see herself spread over Aunt Julie's lap with her cheeks raised and her underpants banded 'round her knees. The image literally dominated her consciousness. Allison could think of nothing else: she was going to be spanked - extremely hard - on her naked behind. And there was absolutely nothing she could about it.
It's not fair, she wept silently. Stepping out of the mini skirt, she stood up in her fresh white lingerie and walked quickly over to her dressing table. She was running out of time; she had to move her antique highback chair over by the bed. Tall, awkward and somewhat cumbersome, it took all her strength to drag it across the floor. Julie referred to it as the Seat of Learning, but Allison had always considered it the bane of her life. There was something vaguely sadistic about the Ritual of the Chair. Not only did she have to go passively over Aunt Julie’s lap; she had to find her a comfortable seat for the performance. It was all so horribly demeaning.
She can't do this to me! Allie cried to herself. She was eighteen years old; a mature, sophisticated woman. She'd started university last fall. Julia had no right to humiliate her this way. She wasn't a minor, wasn't some truant schoolgirl who had to bare her bottom because she skipped her morning classes. It just wasn't right: she was too old for a spanking!! She’d been subject to her aunt’s authority since her before her ninth birthday. When was Julie finally going to start treating her like an adult?
Before Allison could pursue this chain of thought any further, her reveries were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Stern, unrelenting footsteps echoing ominously up the hall. Allison's eyes widened in terror, a bolt of panic tore through her system. Her time was up, Aunt Julie was marching up the corridor like the crack of doom, coming to pull her pants down and paddle her impudent young bottom!!
"No!!" Allie sobbed, still struggling with the Seat of Learning, "no, no, no NO!!"
Things were happening too fast, she hadn’t been able to finish all her preparations. Julie would have the perfect excuse to add another three minutes to her spanking (not that she needed much provocation; Allie had given her all the incentive she needed, let’s face it). Blubbering in misery, Allie hauled the spanking chair to the foot of the bed and turned to face the door. She could hear Julia’s footsteps clacking loudly on the hallway’s timber floorboards. The sound set her teeth on edge; her tummy began clenching in tight little knots. Her eyes darted between the open doorway and the implement lying on her bed.
I don’t WANT a spanking, Allison simpered to herself, protectively covering her bottom with both hands. It was a wholly unconscious gesture she’d used since early childhood, back in the days when Auntie Jules used to whack her tail at least once a week (employing her open hand for minor offences and the brush for the more serious variety. Old Faithful didn’t make its first sensational appearance until Allie was well into junior high school).
Just at that second, those menacing, ominous footsteps came clocking into her bedroom. Aunt Julia stood just inside the doorframe glaring down at her niece, arms folded in a kind of cool, patient rage. She’d been waiting all night for this moment, and she intended to relish the occasion as long as possible. This would be a spanking to remember; the stuff of legend and urban myth. She could already feel the paddle descending on her niece’s naked buttocks. God, she was going to whale some butt tonight!
Seeing the look on her Aunt’s face, Allison threw herself on the mercy of the court. Eyes sparkling with liquid fear, she lapsed into a catechism of remorse; wailing apologies and begging for one last chance: please, Auntie Julia, I’m really sorry I came home so late, I’ll never do it again, I promise I won’t, don’t spank me Aunt Julie, please don’t, it really hurts, I can’t stand it –
Julia shook her head in vague amusement, savoring Allie’s evident consternation. She knew how much this was going to hurt; knew she had no one to blame but herself. Her desperate pleas added considerable spice to the experience; the girl had been testing the limits for weeks now, moping around the house and pouting like a brat whenever she couldn’t have her own way. Her little escapade tonight was just the latest in a long line of furtive acts of rebellion. Well, Julia Conway had very little respect for passive resistance, as her whimpering young ward was about to discover.
“OK, that’s quite enough!” Julie snapped, striding grimly towards the Seat of Learning, “you know what you’ve done to deserve this. You’re going to be spanked, Allison – long and hard on that naughty little bottom of yours. By the time I’m finished, you’ll rue the day you ever crossed swords with me.”
Face working with emotion, Allie broke into a fresh storm of tears:
“No, Aunt Julie, don’t, it isn’t fair – I’m not a child, you don’t have the right to treat me like one! I’m eighteen years old, you can’t spank me, you can’t!”
“Don’t you argue with me, young lady,” Julia replied angrily, “you’re going over my knee, and that’s the end of it. I’ve put up with as much of your sulking and insolence as I’m willing to take. I don’t care how old you think you are, Allie – you’ve earned yourself a spanking, and that is precisely what you’re going to get.”
“But Aunt Julie,” Allison bawled, stamping her feet in helpless anxiety, “I don’t want a spanking! It’ll HURT!!”
“Oh, yes, it’s going to hurt, all right,” Julie agreed, eyes flashing with thinly-disguised pleasure, “I can promise you that much. Now – no more arguments, little miss. It’s high time I smacked your buns.”
Allie knew better than to disobey at this point; the consequences of refusal were unthinkable. Tottering forward with halting, uncertain steps, she stood next to the spanking chair awaiting Julia’s next instruction.
“That’s better,” the older woman commented, scrutinizing her niece with a forbidding gaze, “might as well get started right away. You know what comes next, Allie.” Julie paused, allowing her words to sink in, then continued in a tone that brooked no debate:
“Take down your panties.”
“Nooooooo!!” Allison cried, shifting from foot to foot in childish dread, “no, Aunt Julie, don’t make me bare my bottom! Let me keep them up, spank me on my panties!!” She was losing all self-control; her peach was literally inches away from a thrashing, and all her attempts to forestall the inevitable had been fruitless. Dancing about in her flimsy white underthings, she looked no older than twelve (and sounded considerably younger).
Unfortunately, Aunt Julie had reached the end of her patience. Leaning slightly forward, she glared down at her niece in cool, steely wrath.
“I said – take DOWN those PANTIES!”
Weeping with shame, Allison bent over and peeled down her briefs. Her smooth, dimpled cheeks pumped back and forth in anticipation. A thrill of gooseflesh rushed down her inner thighs. Allie shivered as much from embarrassment as from the cold. This was the point at which her punishment became a nightmare. Her tushie was now completely exposed; she was practically nude from the waist down. She’d been spanked this way since her thirteenth birthday; in all that time, she’d never grown used to baring her bottom.
Allison straightened up, crossing her hands in front of herself. Standing before her aunt with her panties stretched around her knees, she could feel her fanny-tops clenching in the chill morning air. Why was this happening to her? She’d been terribly naughty, she knew that, but she didn’t deserve such abject humiliation. She couldn’t conceive of anything worse than this. No one should be forced to display their bottom-cheeks for a spanking, especially at her age.
“All right,” Aunt Julie remarked, then reached down and picked up the hand paddle.
Old Faithful was an authentic 1920s seat-warmer, a quaint reminder of those bygone days when willful daughters were dealt with in the traditional manner. Larger and heavier than the average table-tennis racquet, Old Faithful possessed a flawless ebony surface and a long grip for maximum swing. Julia had found it in a Chamberlain antique store some five years before, divining its purpose immediately. Allison had despised the vicious, black thing from the very start, as the merest touch seemed capable of raising the most painful blisters. Fortunately, her aunt used it more as a deterrent than anything else, and Allie had soon learned to keep her conduct down to an acceptable level.
Not this morning, however.
Julia turned the paddle over in her hands, testing its weigh and balance, then sat down on the Seat of Learning. Making herself comfortable, she squared her knees and motioned her neice forward. There would be no scolding, no lecturing, no further recriminations. Julia had wasted more than enough time in idle chatter: months of discussion had achieved nothing. Old Faithful was poised for action and Allison’s denuded buttocks awaited the summary ruling.
“Bend over my lap,” Julia told her curtly, eyelids narrowed to slits.
“No, Aunt Julie, please,” Allie wept, stumbling forward with her panties constricting her movements, “don’t use the paddle, you don’t know how much it hurts, I’m sorry, PLEASE don’t smack my bottom, please-” She climbed helplessly over Julia’s knee, folding herself into a human jack-knife so that her upraised cheeks were gaping at the ceiling. They twitched and primped with expectation, firm and ripe and alabaster pale. Allison moaned her
final entreaties in soft, hopeless whispers.
“… no, please no, don’t, I’m sorry Aunt Julie, please, no, don’t …”
Taking a deep breath, Julia lifted the paddle up and back over her right shoulder.
Allison welded her eyes shut, straining every muscle in her body –
And Old Faithful whipped down.
TO BE CONTINUED