Friday, April 26, 2013

The Punishment Bench

A Most Unhappy Young Lady

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It’s seven o’clock on a Friday evening, and Tatiana Ivanov is a very unhappy young lady.

She is nineteen years old, and as naked as the day she was born. She’s in her Papa’s workshop, secured to the punishment bench he finished building recently. As homemade disciplinary inventions go, it’s a rather diabolical affair. Her wrists are secured beneath her, and her ankles are similarly attached above and behind her. Her bottom is the uppermost part of her anatomy, and the way the ankle restraints are placed spreads said anatomical part quite effectively. Her shaved sex is well-displayed, causing Tatiana's face to burn with embarrassment. That's not all that burns: buried deep inside her well-spread behind is a piece of hand-whittled ginger root that stings with a steadily-building intensity. When Papa inserted the dreadful thing, Tatiana thought she might faint from the embarrassment. (She'd heard Mama talk about how Grandmother used to use the herb on her for discipline, but she never thought she would experience it herself.) She’s been in this position for ten minutes, and can look forward to about twenty minutes more before the main part of her punishment begins.

She has endured the singular discomfort of Papa’s big carpentry project once before, for another serious transgression of the family rules. An old-fashioned Ukrainian couple and recent immigrants to the States, Mr. and Mrs. Ivanov believe in the efficacy of bare-bottom spankings and corner time for all of their children, and that includes Tatiana and her eighteen-year-old cousin Gregor who lives with them. More serious misbehavior--especially anything that shames the family through the involvement of teachers, law enforcement officials, or other authorities--is dealt with harshly.

Hence Tatiana’s naked suffering upon the punishment bench.

Tatiana’s parents have a zero-tolerance policy for drinking and driving, of course, and the girl just received a citation for same. At the moment, the citation itself is the least of her worries. She knows that, in less than a half hour, Papa will be along with a small, handcrafted wooden paddle that packs an astonishing sting. This she knows from frequent, hard experience-- experience she shares with her brother, sister, and cousin.

As she hangs in this humiliating position--her pendulous breasts hanging beneath her and her bottom well-spread, she rues her decision to drive home after an evening at the club. Her girlfriend suggested she try a drink called Long Island Iced Tea, which turned out to be a surprisingly potent libation considering its tame-sounding name. She drank two of them, and was in no condition to drive home by the end of the evening. Unfortunately, she was equally incapable of making wise decisions. She was stopped at a speed trap through which she’d been cruising at fifteen miles per hour over the limit while weaving erratically. The cop let her off with a $150 ticket and a stern warning that a second offense could result in her imprisonment. Without sufficient cash to pay for a cab, Tatiana was forced to call home for a ride. Both her her parents arrived, one to drive the girl home and the other to retrieve her car.

Thus was her fate sealed. 

A full-time college student without a job, Tatiana is in no position to pay the hefty fine. Since her parents will be paying it for her, they will see justice served by taking in out on their eldest daughter's rear end.

Mrs. Ivanov, horrified that one of her children has dishonored on the family name by being cited by an officer of the law, has added a new wrinkle to Tatiana’s predicament tonight. Once the girl was secure on the bench, Mrs. Ivanov shocked her by slapping each of her breasts smartly, then attaching a wooden clothespin to each of her nipples. The pain was also a shock, and added considerably to her shame. Her nipples are starting to become numb now; what she doesn’t know is that, when the clothespins are removed, the pain will come rushing back twofold.

Tatiana is also facing 150 swats with Papa’s awful paddle--one for each dollar of her DUI citation. After this grueling spanking, she knows her punishment will continue. She will feel the ginger root being removed, only to be replaced by a large plug slathered with a cayenne pepper paste. On fire both within and without, she will spend the rest of the evening naked in the living room corner, her hands folded behind her back. She will maintain this humiliating posture, the plug holding in the sting of the cayenne pepper, while her family watches a two-and-a-half-hour movie.

Despite the severity of the pain and discomfort she feels (with more to come), her imminent shameful corner time is perhaps the part of the punishment Tatiana dreads the most. Her younger siblings and cousin--Alina, sixteen, Victor, fourteen, and eighteen-year-old Gregor--will be there along with her parents. As the eldest daughter and cousin, Tatiana is expected to model good behavior for the others; since she has failed so spectacularly, they will see the consequences of her poor choices up close. Her well-reddened behind will glow brightly next to the entertainment center, the presence of the oversized black plug testifying to her great discomfort. Tatiana’s face will burn nonstop from the embarrassment--especially the fact that Gregor will see her naked shame. Mama and Papa are certain the three younger ones will be thoroughly dissuaded from drinking by their vicarious experience of Tatiana’s punishment. She is a particularly modest young woman; her nakedness, bright-red plugged behind, and enforced juvenile posture will guarantee an interminable and breathlessly humiliating period of reflection in the corner.

As the fire within her grows, Tatiana hangs miserably on the homemade bench, feeling very sorry for herself indeed. All too soon, she knows Papa will be along with that dreadful wooden paddle to ignite a matching fire without. There are two upsides to all this unpleasantness: that she will never again risk her life behind the wheel in an inebriated state, and that she will feel assuaged of her guilt. Of course, this is cold comfort to Tatiana just now. Waiting to be spanked, plugged, and cornered, she wishes Papa weren’t such an excellent carpenter, and that Mama had never gained first-hand knowledge of the disciplinary potential of household spices.

It’s going to be a long night indeed.


Copyright 2013 by Aunt Carla
All rights reserved

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Jan and Sofia at the Disciplinary Studio

Part One

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“Well ladies, it’s a delight to see you both again after so long. Although I’m sure it's safe to say you'd both rather it were under different circumstances.”

Aunt Carla regarded Jan, a woman in her late 40s, and her 20-something daughter Sofia. It had been 18 months since Mr. Allan, husband of the one and stepfather of the other, first sent them to the Disciplinary Studio for Adults. At that time, they had endured very strict spankings over the professional disciplinarian’s knee, and had served bare-bottomed corner time in the reception area for multiple infractions. Aunt Carla’s young assistant Amelia Chance had thoroughly enjoyed having the two well-reddened backsides just six feet away from her desk for a period of reflection. (As it happened, she enjoyed it a little too much for her own good, but that’s another story.) Now they were back, and knew what to expect: strict, no-holds-barred discipline and a temporary revocation of their sitting privileges.

“So tell me, ladies, why did Mr. Allan send you to see me today?”

“You already know,” said Sofia sullenly, looking out the window.

“Indeed I do, young lady, but I would like to hear it from you.”

Jan spoke up, her face flaring. “There was issue regarding, um...some speeding tickets.”

“You know the proper terms of address at the Studio, Little Miss Jannie.”

The woman bristled for a moment at the humiliating diminutive, then caught herself.

“There was an issue regarding some speeding tickets, Ma’am.”

Aunt Carla smiled. Mr. Allan was right: it really had been far too long for both these ladies; they had slipped back into their old, cheeky ways.

“Unless I see a major transformation in attitude from both of you ladies immediately, I promise you you will both be serving your corner time in reception today.”

“This is ridiculous.” This from the sullen Sofia. "I'm 27 years old!"

Aunt Carla pressed the button on her intercom.


“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Could you come in here for a moment, dear? And please bring the paperwork these two clients signed.”

“Yes Ma’am, right away, Ma’am.”

The door opened almost immediately, and Aunt Carla’s attractive, 24-year-old niece and receptionist came in with the documents in hand. Both of the ladies standing before the disciplinarian blushed deeply.

“Amelia, would you please read aloud the bottom paragraph of the release forms?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I have come to the Studio of my own free will, mindful of the fact that I am an adult in need of discipline. I agree to hold blameless Aunt Carla, the Disciplinary Studio, and its employees for any and all pain and embarrassment associated with said discipline.”

“Thank you, dear. Would you please show the forms to each of our young ladies here, and confirm that it is her signature at the bottom of the form?”

“Certainly, Ma’am.” Amelia walked right up to Jan first, who was looking very uneasy indeed.

“Little Jannie, is this your signature?”

Aunt Carla smiled at the deep blush on Jan’s cheeks. Being addressed thus by a woman young enough to be her daughter was having its intended effect.

“Uh, yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes...Ma’am.” The woman’s face was red as a beet, and she was studying her shoes.

“Excellent. Little Miss Sofie, same question.”

“This is bullshit,” Sofia said under her breath.

“Young lady, we do not use that kind of language at the Studio,” Aunt Carla said sharply. “One more outburst of that sort, and I promise you shall serve your corner time with a bar of soap in your mouth.”

Sofia looked truly alarmed for the first time that day.

“No! I mean, don’t...come on, you don’t have to do that.”

“Terms of address,” said Amelia firmly.

The girl’s face went very bright red indeed; she studied her toes in her sandals.

“Please don’t do that, Ma’am.”

“We shall see,” Aunt Carla replied. Now kindly answer Miss Amelia’s question.”

The girl’s inward struggle was palpable, and clearly visible on her face. Finally, though, self-preservation won out over foolish pride.

“It’s my signature, Miss.”

“Good girl,” Amelia said, enjoying the way the young woman squirmed at being addressed that way.

“Very good then,” Aunt Carla said briskly. “In the interest of time, I shall dispense with the process of extracting confessions in pieces, and simply tell you what little Sofie has correctly intuited I know. You ladies can either concur if I’ve got it right, or correct me if I’m wrong.

“Little Sofia, a quite brilliant young nursing student, had made a habit of staying up too late at night and getting up too late in the morning. As a result, she was issued multiple citations for exceeding the speed limit, putting herself and others in jeopardy. Rather than tell the head of the household about this situation plainly, Jannie conspired with her daughter to hide it from him. He happened upon an opened letter regarding overdue fines for these citations; when questioned, the two young ladies foolishly denied any knowledge of them. He showed them the letter, and phoned me that evening to make an appointment for the two of them at the Disciplinary Studio.

“So, have I stated the facts accurately, ladies?”

Both women looked distinctly uncomfortable. Their faces aflame, with downcast eyes, they nodded their assent.

“Please use your words, girls.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” they said in halfhearted near-unison.

“Very well then. We have several issues to deal with today. One is your lack of self-discipline, Sofia, which is making you unable to get to bed at a decent hour and rise early enough to get to school without speeding. The second is the speeding itself-- a major safety issue. Finally, there  is the issue of dishonesty and collusion--again--between you two ladies, in a campaign to keep the head of the household in the dark about these matters. I thought we had put an end to this sort of thing at your last appointment, but I see I was mistaken. We shall have to step things up today, won’t we?

“Finally, we have the matters of your sullen and disrespectful attitudes toward my assistant and myself today, and little Sofia’s foul language. Really, ladies, these are all things one expects from ill-bred children and bratty adolescents-- not women of your age and stature.”

Aunt Carla let the scolding hang in the air for a moment. The two ladies squirmed appreciably.

“So, have I got it quite right, or is there anything either of you wishes to clarify? Sofie?”

“ mean, yeah, you got it right I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

Sofia sighed dramatically. “I know, okay? You’re gonna spank us no matter what we say, right? So just get it over with, already!”

Aunt Carla’s eyes narrowed. “Your persistent poor attitude is duly noted. Miss Jannie?”

“Nothing to add, Miss,” she said in a nearly-inaudible voice.

“Right!” Aunt Carla said brightly, clapping her hands once. “You both brought the proper punishment clothing, I presume?”

By way of answer, Sofia kicked the duffel bag at her feet. Aunt Carla smiled; she was going to thoroughly enjoy frying the hams of this little brat. Or perhaps, to drive home the lesson further, she just might “outsource” Sofia’s spanking to Amelia. That would certainly get the young lady's attention.

“We brought it, Miss,” Jan said, looking at her daughter with alarm. She seemed to realize what a deep hole Sofia was digging for herself this afternoon.

“Excellent. You shall both go to the changing room, use the facilities if necessary, put on the required clothing, and return here in less than five minutes’ time. Any time beyond five minutes shall be added to your corner time on both sides of your spankings. When you return properly outfitted, you will both proceed to the reception room to serve ten minutes of reflection time, each facing a corner of that room with your hands upon your heads.”

Both women gasped. The possibility of being seen by other clients in the reception area was great, and their punishment outfits were dreadfully embarrassing. The only saving grace was that those who saw them would be there for spankings of their own. Both ladies silently considered that advantage and found it negligible; their faces became even brighter shades of red. Then Sofia did something surprising, even for a young lady whom Mr. Allan had once described as “Impertinence personified.”

No...frickin’...way.” She stamped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest. She clearly meant it as a gesture of adult defiance, but she succeeded only in making herself look more childish and bratty.

“And Little Miss Sofie, thanks to her out-of-control tongue this afternoon, shall have the honor of doing so with a bar of soap in her mouth.” As she spoke, Aunt Carla reached inside her desk drawer and withdrew a new, paper-wrapped bar of Ivory soap and held it up. Sofia gaped at it as if it were a poisonous snake, and Amelia suppressed a grin.

“The clock is ticking, ladies,” said the strict disciplinarian. “I suggest you make haste.”

With heavy sighs of resignation, each woman picked up her duffel bag and shuffled off mournfully toward the changing area.

{End of Part One}

Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla
All rights reserved

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Early to Bed

Part One

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Maura has done it again. Gotten a little tipsy at dinner and said something thoughtless and downright offensive to one of their guests. The look on David’s face says it all: she’s in deep trouble indeed. Maura’s stomach flips over and seems to drop to the floor at his summary, matter-of-fact pronouncement of sentence and his command to go change into her pajamas. Oh no... It’s another early-bedtime punishment for her, and this time with guests to witness it! Rachel is Maura’s best friend and has heard all about these semi-consensual punishments she endures at David’s hands: being sent to change into childish pajamas, coming back out to go over David’s knee for an equally childish spanking. Sent to the corner for ten minutes with her hot-pink bare bottom on display, then off to bed early. But Rachel’s knowing about it is one thing; seeing it happen is something else entirely...and Rachel’s husband Richard is here, too! He’s the one Maura managed to insult with her foolish, out-of-line comment.

Well aware that whining and delaying tactics will serve only to deepen the hole she’s already dug for herself, she scurries off to change, her face turning Fifty Shades of Red. She’s slightly put out to see a slight smirk on Rachel’s face as she goes-- thanks for the support, girlfriend! Richard, on the other hand, looks a bit conflicted. He’s clearly glad that his surprisingly-rude hostess is being held to account; still, he seems a bit embarrassed to be suddenly thrust into the role of voyeur.

In the bedroom, Maura strips to the skin and silently rues her lack of impulse control. Ordinarily, while she may not exactly enjoy being punished, she’s grateful to have a man who loves her enough to take her firmly in hand. But these are hardly ordinary circumstances, and gratitude is quite far from her mind just now. In its place, red-hot embarrassment blooms and steadily increases.

From her chest of drawers Maura pulls one of two pairs of pajamas David bought her for Valentine’s Day. One is a sexy, Victoria’s Secret-type affair, all white lace and ultra-soft red fabric meant to accentuate her attractive womanly curves. This is decidedly not the pair in which David will be expecting to see her return. Naked, she holds up her juvenile, blue drop-seat pjs, the ones David calls her other kind of naughty pajamas.

In a fleeting moment of panic, Maura considers the path of outright rebellion. I’m sorry, but I simply refuse to allow myself to be demeaned in this way in front of our guests! Riiiight...that’s sure to fly. She imagines David replying in his calm, reasonable manner, reminding her that she agreed to this disciplinary arrangement, promising to trust him with the what, when and where of her punishments. She does, in fact, see the justice in being disciplined in front of the individual she offended.

But she doesn’t have to like it.

Maura pulls the juvenile-looking pajamas on, once again cursing her impulsivity, not to mention her undeniable need of regular discipline from David. Until now, her discipline has been a strictly private affair between the two of them. Maura reflects, though, that David has time and time again proven that he knows what she needs even better than she does herself. If he decides she’s earned a spanking in front of her best friend and her husband, that’s simply how it’s going to be.

Butterflies fluttering like mad in the pit of her stomach, Maura forces herself to walk out the bedroom door and report to her disciplinarian...and her waiting audience.

{End of Part One}

*     *     *

Part Two

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Maura walks out in her pink drop-seat pajamas to find David seated in an armless chair in the living room, Richard and Rachel seated comfortably on the couch opposite him. Maura’s face is on fire; her heart is racing. She notices that Rachel is trying, unsuccessfully, to hide a snicker behind her hand at the sight of her pal in this juvenile get-up. Some “best friend” you are...I’ll get you for this, Rach.

David pats his lap with his left hand and beckons his naughty young wife with the index finger of his right. Maura groans, scratch that; the groan was audible. Her face flares even further at this realization.

She knows she has to walk over to David and stand in front of him for the lecture. That means turning her back on her audience...they will see the flap and realize that it’s headed south soon. As she complies with protocol, her face is burning up. David is saying something about how she’s disgraced herself and him, but she doesn’t really hear all the words. She feels lightheaded enough to faint; given the current circumstances, she thinks that would be a welcome development.

She hears silence, and realizes that the command to turn around went right past her. Quickly, she obeys, keeping her hands in place and facing Richard and Rachel. It’s the hardest thing she’s done in her entire life. She is now face to face with her best friend and her husband, and David is busy unbuttoning the flap in her pajamas behind her. Her enforced hand posture does two embarrassing things: it lifts the fabric of her pajama top off her belly, and makes her breasts jut out in a pronounced fashion. Since she’s not allowed underwear under these pajamas, she realizes that her nipples are standing at attention, quite visible under the fabric. She prays to God and the universe to let the earth swallow her up, but her pleas are ignored. (Apparently, God and the universe are just as eager to see her spanked as her “best friend.” Rachel will get hers.) She feels the evening air on her bare bottom as the flap goes south, and hears the order to go over David’s lap. Although it means putting that bared behind on display, she is almost happy to comply: anything to relieve the embarrassment of looking her audience in the eye!

In a pose more fitting an eight-year-old girl than a 25-year-old woman, Maura hangs her head and allows her long brunette hair to cover her face. That’s better: like this, she can almost pretend there’s no one in the room but David and she.


Her spanking begins, and it stings abominably from the word go. David doesn’t mess around when he spanks; he intends to make each lesson learned over his knee count. Almost immediately, Maura begins kicking her little bare feet. All too aware that the penalty for reaching back with her hand is a second spanking with a wooden hairbrush, she grips the chair leg and holds on for dear life.

David doesn’t scold while he spanks; he prefers to let his right hand do the talking at this stage of the ritual. It talks loudly. Each smack of his palm to her wobbling bare behind reverberates through the living room, and soon she is powerless to prevent herself from crying out. David and Maura are playing The Punishment Duet for their guests, and the chamber music is well-received. 

Rachel is mesmerized--and not a little awed--by the performance. Richard is impressed by the masterful way his friend takes command of his woman; he wonders if his own wife might not benefit from similar treatment from him. He also cannot help but be impressed by the big, thoroughly bared backside thrashing around just several feet from where he sits. Although Maura is unaware of this, while she was changing, David told their guests that young ladies who act like spoiled brats in this household forfeit their privacy rights; he hoped neither of them will be offended by the sight of a bared behind. Now that it's bouncing around and reddening before his eyes, Richard is glad he answered "no;" he feels a predictable reaction inside his pants. As much as he is enjoying Maura’s spanking, though, he’s suddenly very much looking forward to getting Rachel home. And not just for the obvious reason, either: he’s noticed how she’s been giggling and tittering at her friend’s embarrassing plight; that’s no way for a best friend to act! Yes, he decides, when Rachel gets home, she’s going to be shocked to discover that naughty brats who laugh at the misfortunes of others are liable to have the same misfortune befall them.

The spanking is over now, although you wouldn’t know it by watching and listening to Maura. She’s still kicking wildly and white-knuckling the chair leg, howling at the fire raging in her bottom. Said bottom is bright red all over, and the color reaches down to her upper thighs as well. She is coughing, hiccuping, and making mewling noises. David is apparently satisfied that she’s paid the price for her behavior, because now he’s tenderly helping her to her feet and allowing her to rub her inflamed bare butt. He hugs her and makes comforting noises while she continues to stamp her little feet on the hardwood floor and rub in a mad-but-futile attempt to put out the fire in her backside.

Moments later, she is guided by the elbow toward a corner beside the entertainment center. Without being told, she puts her hands back on her head, although it’s a cinch she’d much rather be using them to continue a much-needed fire extinguishing effort. David offers to refill drinks for Richard and Rachel, and they accept. The three are sitting comfortably (something Maura won’t be doing for a while), visiting and sipping their drinks, while the penitent with the bright red bum stands motionless in the corner. It’s a delightful sight to all, but to Richard in particular. Not so much because of a stray comment aimed at him during dinner; that was something he would have been inclined to overlook as the poor judgment of a young lady who’s yet to fully grow up. No, for him it’s the fact that his own young bride keeps gazing at her friend’s blazing hindquarters with such undisguised relish and such high color in her face. Yes, this young lady is in for the surprise of her life when they get home.

For Maura, one more humiliation remains. At David’s call, she must come out of the corner and apologize to each of her guests in turn, looking them in the eye as she does. (She thought turning around earlier was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but this surpasses it.) Her meek I’m sorry I spoiled your evening, Richard and I’m sorry I spoiled your evening, Rachel leave Richard feeling badly for the thoroughly-embarrassed girl; he wonders whether his bride feels as tenderly for her “best friend.”

With a light swat to her overheated tail, David sends his wife off to bed. It’s 8:30 in the evening and their guests will no doubt be staying for awhile, since there’s a TV show all four of them enjoy watching that starts at 9:00. The effect of being sent to bed early while “the grown-ups” continue to visit is not lost on Maura. Said grown-ups watch a red tail scurry off in the direction of the bedroom, the flap bouncing beneath it.

Richard is more anxious than ever to get Rachel home. First chance he gets, he’s going to ask David where he found those pajamas.

Copyright 2013 by Aunt Carla
All rights reserved

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


Part Two


(Our story began here:

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Maris had glanced through her entire paper, gone inside for a second cup of coffee, and returned. Meanwhile, Allie had been standing with her reddened bare behind on display and her hands on her head. Maris looked up occasionally to admire her work: her beautiful young girlfriend’s ample bottom was still a nice hot shade of pink, even some forty minutes after the spanking. Maris was sure this had already been a thoroughly intense experience for Allie. It was certainly the longest time she had ever been in the corner, and this corner just happened to be on the deck in the open air.

“Imagine the view you’re giving the neighbors,” Maris said, deliberately ratcheting up the intensity. “Standing outside half naked, made to show off your red spanked bottom like the naughty little girl you are...” She stood and walked over to the girl and loudly said, “Don’t mind little Allie, folks; she’s being punished today.” She literally felt the frisson go through Allie’s body as she spoke. Maris was sure she saw a crowd of guests just a few feet away in her mind’s eye. Maris caressed her girlfriend’s bare behind, and it felt as if an electric current went through her, one she felt in her own hand. She sneaked that hand down to lightly touch her between her legs, and the effect was even more electrifying.

“Oh my, so wet down here...what a naughty girl you are, getting all excited when you’re supposed to be learning a lesson!” Maris delivered two well-placed smacks, one to the center of each sore bottom cheek, then immediately explored the increasingly moist region with her other hand.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” she whispered. “I might just have to leave you on display ‘til noon.” Allie was literally vibrating with arousal-- her every nerve seemed stretched to the breaking point. Maris smiled at the sight of Allie’s arm muscles nearly in spasm; her backside was tight and her wetness increasing by the second. Maris started delivering sharp smacks with her left hand, followed by quick caresses of her vagina with her right. Allie appeared to be on the verge of exploding.

SMACK! (stroke)

SMACK! (a deeper stroke)

Allie gasped.

“I’ll bet my naughty girl wants to come, and desperately,” Maris whispered. She was rewarded with a vigorous nod; she giggled as she was reminded of a bobble-headed doll.

“Inside. Lie down on the couch on your back and wait for me.”

Allie dropped her arms gratefully and hurried to obey. She had never been so ready to come in her life. Maris encouraged her through the door into the living room with a powerful double underhand swat across her fiery bottom cheeks; Allie yelped and ran quickly through the doorway and over to the couch. She lay on her back as directed, wincing as her sore behind made contact with the fabric. She wondered if Maris would make her wait. She hoped not with every fiber of her being; it would be pure torture for her. Her hands desperately wanted to reach down and achieve the orgasm that lay so close within reach.

“Lose the bra,” Maris ordered as walked over to the couch. Allie whimpered slightly with expectation as she quickly divested herself of the skimpy garment, tossing it on the floor. As she lay on her back in just her g string, Maris straddled her and teased at her clitoris through the tiny panties with one finger. Then she leaned over and took one of her woman’s breasts in her mouth, sucking and flicking her tongue over the hardened nipple several times. Allie moaned and arched her back. Maris repeated the same process with the other breast, and thought the girl might climax right then. She quickly pulled her mouth away, getting a disappointed groan from Allie.

Her disappointment was short-lived, however. Maris went down, took the tiny g string in her teeth, and worked it slowly down the shapely hips while Allie moaned and began making small thrusting movements. Maris took the time to worry the garment very far down with just her teeth; then she suddenly released it, grabbed it with both hands, and literally ripped it off. Allie nearly screamed. She was completely naked beneath her still-fully-dressed lover. With a smile of triumph, Maris went down hard. She found Allie’s magic spot immediately, and started licking up and down steadily.

In less than ten seconds, Allie exploded as she never had before.

She practically sat up in shock as the first great wave of pleasure hit her. Screaming like a banshee, she dropped back onto the couch with a bang, her entire body convulsing in almost unbearable ecstasy. She banged her head so many times (as Maris kept the constant tongue action going), she might have given herself a concussion if not for the soft couch and pillow beneath her. She rode wave after wave of mindbending pleasure. She screamed until she was hoarse. It had simply never been like this-- ever.

Several minutes later, when Maris noted that the final stages of Allie’s ecstasy were approaching, she slowed down her oral ministrations. She finally stopped and slowly disengaged her mouth. Then she pushed down on the girl’s vagina with both hands, sealing in the orgasm with pressure.

Allie was utterly spent: her face was covered with tears and her hair wet with perspiration. This was certainly a first: she had never cried in response to a climax before. She soon stopped gasping and crying out; her breathing  was gradually returning to normal. Maris kept the pressure on to make sure her woman was utterly sated.

It had been quite a workout. Allie was clearly beyond the power of speech, and Maris was utterly satisfied in her complete satisfaction of her. Allie would return the favor later, but right now she needed to rest. Maris very slowly removed her hands and kissed her thoroughly spent woman on the lips. She was smiling dazedly, her eyes unfocused. Maris stood, picked up a light blanket from the adjoining settee, and covered her naked girlfriend from neck to feet. Allie contentedly turned over into a fetal position and was asleep within minutes.

Maris padded to the kitchen, pulled a bottle of Deer Park water out of the refrigerator, and guzzled it. This experiment in boundary-pushing, she mused, had been an unqualified success. She was already imagining how she might succeed in surpassing it.


Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla
All rights reserved

Monday, April 1, 2013


Part One

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Allie was thrilled by the way Maris kept pushing her boundaries. The disciplinary aspect of their relationship kept evolving, reaching new and more exciting levels. Allie’s current condition was a case in point.

She had just endured a very fiery bare bottom spanking over Maris’s knee; her entire butt was red and scalded. She wore nothing but a negligible g string and an equally- skimpy bra that barely contained her ample breasts.

Most significantly of all, she just happened to be serving corner time on the back deck.

This was unprecedented, and its emotional impact on the young woman was extraordinary. True, their house was surrounded by trees and their back yard was, in fact, a forest. Hence the possibility of neighbors actually seeing her in her red-bottomed, scantily-clad state was negligible. Nonetheless, since the first moment Maris had guided her out the back door and into a corner of the deck (with a command to fold her hands behind her back and stand motionless until released), she had been experiencing a wide array of emotions: panic, excitement, embarrassment, arousal.

Allie had no idea how long she was to be out here in her half-naked state; Maris had only said “until I release you.” All her senses were heightened: the slightest snap of a twig in the forest behind her seemed absurdly loud and represented (in her imagination) a witness to her shameful condition. She seemed to see flashes of movement in her peripheral vision that suggested the same; even her sense of smell seemed sharper than usual. Her heart raced.

Allie had fantasized about spanking since she was a child, but until meeting Maris, had never had the chance to explore and indulge her lifelong interest. Maris, a deeply perceptive and empathetic woman, understood that what really fired her lover’s guns was not spanking in and of itself, but the humiliation associated with it. She suspected that, after this display period following a long, hard spanking, Allie would need very little in the way of stimulation to achieve a mindblowing orgasm. She looked forward to seeing how close to the edge she could get her lovely lady through spanking and faux humiliation alone. (Most likely faux humiliation: the possibility of discovery was not completely out of the question. All it would take would be a curious neighbor looking a little too carefully through the foliage of the trees, or a visitor coming around the back yard for some reason.)

Maris stepped out onto the deck with a cup of coffee in one hand and the Sunday paper in the other, comfortable in a t shirt, denim shorts, and bare feet. She smiled as she took in the sight of her well-punished young lady, a natural redhead with fair skin, freckles and a plump, red behind. Her hands were held obediently in their prescribed position and she was standing motionless as directed. Maris sat in one of the deck chairs and put her feet up on another, taking a sip of strong French Roast.

“Wow!” she said to Allie’s attractive back. “That’s one nicely-reddened bare backside, if I do say so myself. Imagine if one of the neighbors were to come around back today-- what a surprise they’d see!”

Allie whimpered slightly in response to this teasing, and her ears acquired a bright red color. Glancing at the woods, Maris thought of their friend Mike, an amateur photographer who lived in one of the houses on the other side of ravine. Grinning, she decided to use him to up the ante.

“And if Mike should turn his telescope this direction, he’d have a bird’s-eye view of one fine, red behind. My guess is that he’d grab his camera with the telephoto lens and take some very memorable shots.”

Allie seemed to go weak in the knees; Maris could have sworn she saw them almost buckle beneath her. This was going very well indeed. Without actually putting her girl on display to anyone (probably), she was achieving precisely the result she’d hoped for.

“Oh my God...” Allie whispered.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak in the corner, young lady.” Maris managed to put enough genuine-sounding sharpness in her voice to cause Allie to stiffen her spine and clench her bottom cheeks in response. Maris smiled and took another long swallow of coffee...this was almost too good!

She noisily opened the newspaper and pretended to be reading. Let the girl think I’m going to peruse the entire paper as usual, she thought; it should have an excellent psychological effect.

And so it did. Allie knew that Maris usually spent a good half hour or more reading the paper on Sunday mornings, and she’d already been out here with her bare butt on display for...well, she realized she had no idea how long it had been. It certainly felt like a very long time. She was exposed on a warm, sunny morning, her big bottom as bare as it could be and her breasts barely covered by the tiny bra Maris had ordered her to wear. She felt her face heat up, and at the same time felt the moisture that had been accumulating between her legs increase. She suddenly felt even more exposed.


Her disciplinarian/lover rolled up her newspaper and swung her legs off the chair. She walked up to Allie (who went rigid again at the sound) and swatted the girl’s inflamed backside twice with the rolled-up paper. Allie yelped like a naughty puppy.

“You know the rule: no talking in the corner. Make another sound, and I swear I’ll take you over my knee again right out here. Do I keep my promises, little girl?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Allie squeaked. As red as a beet, she nodded vigorously. Maris did keep her promises; the thought of shrieking and struggling over her lap out here on the deck was more than enough to ensure her silence.

“Good. Now I’m going back to my paper, and you’re going back to showing off your red bare behind to the world. In silence. And since you’re testing me today, you can do it with your hands on your head.”

Allie almost whimpered aloud, but the threat of a spanking on the deck kept her silent. She had a love/hate relationship with the hands-on-the-head thing; it made her large chest jut out embarrassingly and simultaneously made her feel even more like a naughty little girl. Nonetheless, she quickly obeyed.

Maris smiled at the efficacy of her threat. She probably wouldn’t actually spank Allie out here on the deck-- unless the girl gave her a good reason to. She returned to her chair, took another sip of coffee, and reopened her paper. This was going to be an interesting day indeed.

{End Part One}

Copyright Ⓒ 2013 by Aunt Carla
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