Home for the Holiday

Sara was driving home from school, back to her Aunt’s house in Massachusetts at the end of her first semester at college. Her parents were in living in Europe, her Dad running the multinational division of a U.S. bank from their office in Zurich. Sara wasn’t quite sure what her Dad did, something concerning foreign currency speculation, something very complicated.

When her Dad was transferred to Switzerland, Sara decided to stay in the United States to finish her last six months of high school. She was too young to have her own apartment, so it was decided she would move in with her Aunt Fran, her mother’s younger sister, for the few months before going away to college.

Sara hadn’t been driving a car all that long, especially not on the Interstates, so she was driving very carefully. If you really put your foot to the floor, you could make the trip in eight hours, but it would probably take her ten or eleven.

Sara was driving slowly for another reason. She knew the discussion she would have when she got home; it kept playing over and over again in her head. Why can’t you stick to your allowance? Why are your grades so poor? What are your plans to get a job for the summer?

She had this discussion with Aunt Fran when she came home for Thanksgiving and again at Christmas. This would be the third time. And this time Aunt Fran would be really angry, especially when she got the bill from VISA and then Sara’s transcript.

As I said before, Aunt Fran was Sara’s mother’s younger sister. She was in her mid-30s, tall, slim, very athletic, very pretty with jet black hair and a pale white complexion. She wasn’t married, but for as long as Sara could remember there was always a man in her life, always older, always wealthy. From bits and pieces of family conversations, Sara had concluded that Fran had also been “intimate” with several women when she was in college. It was just something some women did back then, part of the experimentation that was part of college life, part of growing up, part of discovering who you are.

Sara was late getting started for the trip back to Boston. She and her roommate, Nancy, had partied late the night before with two very cute older guys, and there had been too much to drink, too much to smoke, too much sex. She was still kind of sore from the sex, from the workout both guys and her roommate had given to her pussy and asshole.

The fog in her brain started to lift as she crossed from Pennsylvania into New York, but she continued to drive carefully, the cruise control tuned on, just at the posted speed limit. With two rest stops, she made the trip in just under ten hours.

Sara was really tired when she got to Boston, had to drive the last hour in the dark. But dinner was waiting and her room was made up and Aunt Fran was very cheerful. They drank some wine together, something they had never done before, and Aunt Fran didn’t ask about school or her allowance. And so Sara went to bed and slept with the angels.

She got up later the next morning, a Saturday, and Aunt Fran was home from work. She could smell the fresh coffee and her place at the table was set, breakfast already prepared. And propped up against the sugar bowl were two envelopes, both addressed to Ms. Sara Bicknell.

She knew what they were from the return addresses. The first was from the University, the dreaded transcript. The second was the VISA statement for the previous month.

Her Aunt Fran poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Then she made some small talk, asked Sara again about the drive, if she had any problems with the car, did she need to take it in for service before she returned to Gettysburg.

Then the first dreaded question: “How did you do this past semester?”

Sara couldn’t lie and tell her Aunt Fran she didn’t know - the envelop with the transcript was on the table. Bravely she said, “Lets find out.”

The young girl cut open the envelope and read the transcript in horror. Two Bs and three Cs. One of the Cs was in psychology, her major, and another in statistical research methodology. Her GPA of a very sad 2.4, not nearly enough to get into the sophomore honors program she wanted. Sara handed the transcript to her Aunt and watched as she read it in silence.

Aunt Fran didn’t criticize, but Sara knew that would come later. Then the second dreaded question: “Did you stick to your allowance last month?” She knew that answer as well. She hadn’t. All she could hope for was that the Internet purchase had not been processed, or maybe the bank hadn’t posted the last three ATM withdrawals.

With some reservation, trying to keep up her spirits, Sara chirped, “Lets see what this contains?” Again Sara opened the envelope. “No luck at all,” was all she thought as she handed the statement to her Aunt.

Aunt Fran read the bill, frowned as she read some of the purchases, did some quick math in her head, and put down the paper. Then she went on to explain that this was much more serious than she had though, that she though she could depend on Sara, but Sara had let her down. She was going to have to spank her niece twice, once for the poor grades, and a second time for the spending spree. At least her Aunt didn’t specifically mention the $ 93.79 spent for the purchase of an anal probe vibrator and the bondage gear from a very kinky web site.

“But I tried my best, Aunt Fran, and I didn’t mean to spend so much money.”

“There you go again Sara, telling me the same story you told me at Christmas. Do I have to spank you three or four times? Is that what you want? Is that what I have to do to make an impression? I’m going to spank you on your bare bottom twice today, as soon as we finish breakfast. And do I need to spank you every morning for the next two weeks, on your bare bottom, to remind you to be more careful when you go back to school?”

Sara had in fact been spanked only three or four days ago, by her best friend and college roommate Nancy, for coming home without her panties three hours after the school library had closed. But their relationship had involved mostly play spanking, not very hard, before Nancy used first her fingers, and then the new anal vibrator, on Sara’s tight little asshole. That night Nan also used a thicker vibrator on Sara’s shaved pussy, as the sexy freshman told her roommate about the cute guy who picked her up in the library stacks, and took her back to his apartment for a good ass reaming.

“No, Aunt Fran, you don’t have to spank me more then twice,” from Sara in her best little girl submissive voice.

And then Sara realized, Aunt Fran said she was going to spank her on the bare. She hadn’t been spanked by her parents in years, and never by her Aunt Fran, although she had been spanked fairly regularly on her bare bottom for most of the past semester by her older college roommate.

“Please, Aunt Fran, not on the bare.”

“Sara, you have a serious problem, and only a good long bare bottom spanking will cure it.”

“Aunt Fran, please.” G-d, if only Aunt Fran knew how much she enjoyed being spanked on her sexy little bare ass.

“Sara, this is for your own good. Now go to your room and wait. When I get up stairs, I want to see you standing in the corner, with your nosed pressed right up against the wall, and your wrists crossed behind your back.”

“Please, Aunt Fran, please?”

“Missy, get!”

It didn’t do any good to argue, so Sara went up the stairs to her room, and stood in the corner as instructed. Sometimes her roommate Nancy made Sara do corner time after a spanking, and it always made her feel like such a dork, but Nan always made it up to her by licking Sara’s hot little pussy until she came..

Sara guessed that Aunt Fran would hit a lot harder than her roommate, that this wouldn’t be a play spanking, and her Aunt definitely would not go down on her when she finished. No, it wouldn’t be a form of foreplay before she and her best friend climbed into bed. Sara could feel the apprehension building in the pit of her stomach as she stood staring at the wall. Her Aunt came into the room five minutes later. It was a very long five minute wait.

She heard Aunt Fran come into the room, and then she was told to turn around and saw what her Aunt had in her hands. Sara’s heart stopped beating for a moment. In one hand Sara recognized a strap of heavy leather, a belt Aunt Fran only used with her work pants when she was out working in the yard. In the other she saw one of Aunt Fran’s Tai Chi slippers.

“Sara, take off your jeans and your blouse,” her Aunt ordered.

“Aunt Fran, please.”

“Sara, your whining is getting tedious, do as you’re told, IMMEDIATELY!”

She could see Aunt Fran was starting to get really angry, so she did as she was told. Sara was a college freshman, just 18 years old. But she was barely five feet tall and weighed barely 98 pounds. She hadn’t bothered to put on a bra that morning, didn’t really need a bra for her perky little 32-A tits. And her nipples were already hard, both from fear and from arousal at the thought of receiving a bare bottom spanking from her beautiful Aunt Fran.

Sara slowly lowered her jeans and stepped out of them. She started to turn around, to face the wall as she unbuttoned her blouse, but her Aunt stopped her.

“No, don’t turn around. Look at me, Sara, as you finish undressing.”

“Please, Aunt Fran, this is embarrassing.” Sara started to blush. Her nipples were very hard at that moment.

“You should have thought about the embarrassment before you went on your spending spree.”

One by one Sara opened the buttons, and reluctantly slid the blouse off her shoulders. She tossed the blouse on her bed, and then just stood there in her tiny bikini panties.

Sara watched in horror as Aunt Fran put a chair in the center of the room, sat down, and motioned for her niece to come over. The little girl was getting frightened.

“Over my knee.”

It was a long time since had been spanked in that position. Nancy usually spanked her leaning over her desk, so she could play with Sara’s pussy between swats. Now, Sara’s feet touched the floor on one side, and she could reach down with her hands on the other side for support. Sara knew in that position Aunt Fran had a clear view of her sexy little ass. The panties were very tight across her bottom. Everybody had been pretty modest when she was growing up, and it had been years since her Aunt had seen Sara in her underpants. Just now, all she could feel was humiliation. Then her Aunt let her have it with the slipper.

Thwak!

Sara had seen these slippers for years, but had never given them much thought. Her Aunt Fran wore them when she did her Tai Chi exercise. They were made of black cloth on top, with a white cotton lining. The sole was red rubber in a waffle pattern. They were European size 40, made at the Red Dove Factory Number 1.

Over the summer, before they went away to college, one of Sara’s friends told her that she still got spanked by her mom with a leather slipper and that it didn’t hurt that much, certainly not as much as the hair brush her dad used for punishment. And then the Tai Chi slipper landed on her bottom on the other side, very hard.

Thwak!

“Ahhh. Please Aunt Fran, that hurt.”

“Of course it hurt, you silly little fool, it was supposed to,” from Aunt Fran in a very stern voice.

The opposite of Sara, Aunt Fran certainly wasn’t a fool. She had noticed how hard her niece’s perky little nipples were as the young girl undressed. They were such a pretty shade of pink, in contrast to her longer, darker nipples which were equally as hard at that moment.

She gave Sara six or seven more, just as hard, on her bottom, and then started on the backs of her legs. These hurt more than on her bottom, and Aunt Fran knew it, so she hit harder.

Thwak! Thwak! Thwak!

“Ahhhhh. Please, not so hard,” the little girl begged.

Aunt Fran stopped for a moment, and Sara though she was finished with the spanking. But she only stopped to lower Sara’s panties. They were very tight and Aunt Fran had to work to get them over Sara’s slim hips.

“Please Aunt Fran, not on the bare.”

“Lift up,” she commanded, and smacked her niece again with the slipper.

Fran got her panties down to the middle of her thighs, and now she could see how red Sara’s bottom really was. She resisted the temptation to caress her niece’s beautiful smooth ass cheeks. ‘Maybe next time, when the little fool does something equally stupid, when I have her over my knees again,’ Fran thought to herself.

Then she started all over again, working from side to side, slowly spanking her way down across Sara’s bottom and the backs of her legs. By the time Aunt Fran reached her panties, bunched above her knees, Sara was crying.

“Sara, I didn’t think you were a cry baby.”

“Sniffle, sniffle, this really hurts, Aunt Fran.”

“That’s OK, the first part is over.”

The first part. Sara couldn’t imagine there could be more. Then Aunt Fran made the little girl get up and with her panties still in place, hobble back to the corner. This time, she ordered Sara to put her hands on top of her head. Sara had hated to do corner time when she was a child, hated to stand there in only an undershirt after a bare bottom spanking. But standing there in this ridiculous position was much worse, almost the worse humiliation of all.

Sara’s back side bottom was burning. That was the only thing she could think of - that her ass and legs were on fire. After ten minutes the pain was still as intense.

Then Sara received the next command from Aunt Fran. “Turn around and face me, and then push your panties all the way down and step out of them.”

‘Oh, my G-d, she’s going to see me naked, totally naked,’ Sara thought to herself.

“Turn!”

“Please,” Sara begged.

Her Aunt hit her with the doubled over belt, across the fullest part of Sara’s tight little ass, very hard.

Thwak!!

“Owee! Please, not so hard.”

“Then turn around and do what I tell you!”

Sara didn’t want another one as hard, so she turned around and pushed down her panties. She shaved her pussy regularly, lots of college girls who were ‘sexually active’ did, but she never thought she would have to get naked in front of her mother’s sister. She blushed again, and started to cover her pussy.

“No, don’t do that,” Aunt Fran ordered.

“Please, I’m embarrassed …”

“And you should be. But I can see you’re all ready for the beach this summer, so I guess I saved the cost of your bikini wax job.” That was a low blow.

Then Aunt Fran pointed at the desk. Quickly Sara went to her desk and lean over it, resting her head on her arms, in the very familiar spanking position. She hoped her Aunt would rub her pussy the way Nancy did, but Sara knew that was too much to hope for.

“Sara, I just spanked you for the poor grades this semester.”

“But I tried my best.”

“SARAH!”

“Yes, Aunt Fran?”

“You don’t listen. You don’t pay attention. Do I need to spank you with the slipper again tomorrow in the morning?”

“No, Aunt Fran.”

“I’m going to spank you again, with the strap, to punish you for your spending spree. I won’t ask you to explain some of the things you purchased. You’re almost an adult and you have a right to choose a life style.”

‘That was a relief,’ Sara thought. How do you explain to your mother’s sister that you like to get tied up and fucked in the ass.

The Aunt Fran went on, “In England, a naughty girl like you would be punished the cane across her bare bottom, and in France disobedient daughters are regularly beaten with the martinet. But here we’ll have to settle for the strap. And I’ll give you six, very hard, on your bottom. You have to count the strokes. If you miss a count, it doesn’t count, and you have to take it over. Do you understand?”

It didn’t do any good to try and explain, especially not the anal probe she loved to have buried deep in her rectum.

“Yes, Aunt Fran.”

“Before we begin, I think you should thank me. I’m doing this for your own good.”

This was too humiliating. There was a long silence.

“Sara, do we need to start all over with the slipper?

“No, Aunt Fran. And ‘Thank you.’”

“Count, please.”

Sara could hear the strap as it descended, and then …

Thwak!

“Ahhh.”

“Count.”

“One.”

Thwak! Thwak!

“Two … Three .. Please, Aunt Fran?’

“What is it Sara?”

“It hurts too much, Aunt Fran, I can’t take any more.”

“Of course it hurts, that’s what a spanking is all about.”

Thwak! Thwak!

“Four …. Five ….Please, Aunt Fran, my bottom is on fire.”

“Only one more.”

THWAK!

“Ahhhhhh.”

“I didn’t hear you count. Do I need to repeat?”

“Six, Aunt Fran, please, six., six, I said six.”

Sara slumped forward onto the desk, crying profusely. Her Aunt Fran watched for two or three minutes as her pretty young niece sobbed uncontrollably. She resisted the temptation to take the little girl in her arms, to kiss her on the lips, to help dry her tears. Reluctantly the older woman walked from the room.