London Mistress Sapphire – Aunt Story 2 – written by Mistress Sapphire
You knew from the start that it was a big mistake to include the new kid from down the road in your game of dare. But the other members of your little gang persuaded you that it would not hurt to let him join in. Would not hurt? That was the easy for them to say. You were the one standing in the corner with your hands on your head and your bare backside on fire. And you knew that putting your hands down to rub your hot and glowing globes would only result in another good spanking from your aunt.
She had sent you to the corner to reflect on your behaviour. You were reflecting all right, on how you would get that little sneak for grassing you up about your games stealing ladies underwear. You and your friends were only borrowing the knickers from the washing lines in the neighhbourhood for a laugh. Once you had counted to see who had managed to nick the most pairs in a given time, they were all going to be put back – put back on the washing line of that old witch who kept telling you off for playing football on the green outside her house. Let that old busybody sort them out and get them back to their rightful owners.
You could feel your aunts’ eyes upon you, admiring her handiwork. You just hoped that she was in a benevolent mood and would not use the hairbrush on you to accompany the usual post-spanking lecture. You’d heard it all before; ‘error of ways… spare the rod… getting away with too much for too long… blah, blah, blah…’ In your trancelike state you did not know she had come up behind you until you felt her fingers brush gently across your buttocks. It made you jump. ‘If that made you jump,’ she whispered softly in your ear, ‘wait until I take my slipper to you.’
She sat down on the chair and motioned for you to position yourself over her lap. She had already taken off one of her slippers and held it aloft, poised and ready for action. Well at least it wasn’t the dreaded hairbrush. You just wished she’d start wearing those light and spongey modern slippers instead of those awful old fashioned things with the thick rubber sole. Stretched across her firm thighs, your eyes down examining the carpet, you made a mental note that when you were next asked to put out the rubbish bin it would contain a certain pair of well worn slippers. Then you could think of nothing else but your burning buttocks. Whack after whack ensued, her strong right arm seeming never to tire, even though you protested over and over again how sorry you were for your actions and that they most certainly would never happen again.
At last your punishment ended, and as always Aunty took you in her arms and gave you a comforting cuddle just to show that she loved you and it was for your own good. It was a strange feeling enveloped in her arms, your tear-stained face pressed into her ample bosom. It almost made all the pain worthwhile. Especially when she then made you lie on your tummy on her bed and gently rubbed soothing cream into your burning bottom cheeks. It felt wonderful, and you were lost in a lovely, dreamy world of well-being you never wanted to end, when you were suddenly catapulted back into the real world as she patted your bottom saying, ‘Now get dressed quickly my little one, we are going shopping. I think I need some new slippers…’