James and His Auntie Cara

My son James suffered another lengthy and embarrassing spanking here at home the other night. My sister Cara is in town, staying with us for a couple weeks, and she has always loved spending time with James and my daughter Kylie. Well, one evening, I was putting Kylie to bed, and Cara offered to help with James, which I thought was very nice of her. Shortly after I had gotten Kylie tucked in, I was walking down the hallway when I heard the commotion coming from my son's room. Concerned, like any mother would be, I peeked into his bedroom and found a most familiar and reassuring sight. James was getting spanked by his Auntie Cara.

Apparently, James had fought with Cara when she tried to dress him in his pajamas. I suppose she shouldn't have been surprised by this, since he is nineteen years old now (a very bratty nineteen-year-old), and he probably thinks it's insulting to have his Auntie dressing him like he's still a little boy. But nevertheless, he should have known better than to argue with Cara. I admit, my sister has a bit of a temper, and she has no tolerance for misbehavior. So the instant that James put up a struggle, she sat down on the edge of his bed, yanked his underpants down to his ankles, and laid him across her lap for a long and serious bare-bottom spanking from her strong hand.

This was how I found them, already halfway into the spanking. While James sobbed and pleaded to be released, Cara continued to chide him for his disobedience, her practiced hand steadily and methodically painting his bouncing hind-cheeks with red hand-prints. Cara can be a rather angry spanker, but she also exerts a lot of self-control, so I wasn't worried. I had no doubt that my son needed and deserved every swat that he was getting and would get from her.

After a few minutes, my sister paused the spanking and pulled James to his feet, so that she could look him in the eye and shake her mad finger in his tear-stained face while she scolded him further. Because of this, I had a clear view of my son's naked frontal region, and I could see that he had a full-on erection, his young penis practically the size of a banana at this point (which it usually is whenever I spank him too), though Cara paid it no mind. She just kept barking questions at him about whether he was going to argue with her anymore, and if he was going to obey her when she told him to do something, and so on. I couldn't quite make out all his answers through his blubbering, but they obviously weren't very satisfactory for Cara.

"Oh, that does it!" she declared, having lost all patience with him. "Go bring me the leather strap from your closet right now!"

I was somewhat amazed that James didn't beg her to not use the strap on him, but I guess he at least understood that when his Aunt Cara makes up her mind about something (especially where spankings are concerned), there is no getting out of it. So he quickly waddled over to his closet and retrieved the short, thick leather strap that I often use to discipline him, and he gave it to Cara. Taking the strap from him, Cara appeared to notice, as if for the first time, his large erection still standing at complete attention, yet she didn't say anything about it, not even to reprimand him for it (which I usually do when I spank him). She simply shook her finger one more time at him, and told him how she was going to thrash his bare bottom good and hard over her knees until she was sure that he had learned his lesson.

Without further ado, Cara hauled James across her lap again and immediately started spanking his red, sore bottom with my strap. Each precise swing fell right where she wanted it, one after another after another, never neglecting a single square-inch of his plump posterior. Cara brought that wide strap down vehemently across both his unclothed cheeks together, engulfing the majority of his rump with every stroke and letting the whole weight of the blow fully settle into his bottom with a powerful CRACK!!! before she would lift the strap up off his buttocks again. Those loud snaps of hot leather licking across nude skin echoed off the walls, and every such bite into his rebounding derriere made my son squeal and howl through his flowing teardrops, as he squirmed in relentless agony on his Auntie's thighs.

It was then that I realized just how much his big stiff penis was rubbing against her legs. Normally I wear an apron or protective stockings whenever I spank my son over my knees, but my sister Cara was only wearing a tank-top and a denim miniskirt on this particularly hot summer day. And her provocative skirt covered nothing more than her pelvic area, leaving her thighs totally exposed to James's naughty pulsating penis. I considered interrupting the spanking, to warn Cara about what my son was likely about to do on her lap, but then I reminded myself that she knows as well as I do what happens to James when he gets spanked over a woman's knees. And I decided not to bother her with such a minor issue.

Sure enough, after hardly three more minutes of strapping his bare behind, James began orgasming immensely on his Auntie's lap, drowning her naked thighs in his teenage boy-cream, and it seemed like every subsequent thwack of the strap across his bottom only made my son spurt another thick dollop of cum onto Cara's lap.

"Oh, you're such a naughty, naughty boy, James!" my sister continued scolding him, while his climax persisted.

A minute later, his orgasm was done, and he was left weeping with shame and anguish and remorse on his Aunt Cara's knees, while she proceeded to give him his concluding, mandatory, extra-hard licks with the strap, to punish him for cumming during his spanking. He accepted this final and most severe part of his punishment with a heavier abundance of crying, though he no longer tried to wriggle away or appeal for mercy, because he knows he deserves a much worse spanking for making such an enormous, naughty mess on his spanker's lap.

At last, his spanking was over, and Cara quietly laid the strap beside her on the bed. She kept him sprawled over her knees for a moment, until his bawling started to diminish. When she felt that he had regained enough control of himself, she stood him up again and hugged him tightly, telling him how much she loves him, and that she only spanks him because she loves him, and that he needs to be a good, well-behaved young man so that she won't have to spank him again.

I kind of chuckled to myself at that. Since the onset of puberty, it seems like I've had to spank my son every week (more or less) for some reason or another. But for his sake, I hope that he'll at least learn to mind his Auntie Cara. She's not as patient a woman as I am.

After another several seconds of this maternal affection, Cara informed James that it was his bedtime, and he didn't show any signs of resistance whatsoever as she put him into bed. She did not permit him to pull his underwear back on, though (and he probably couldn't have with his erection still frozen upright). She only allowed him to wear a t-shirt and his socks, and he had to lie face-down on his bed, without the covers (which he didn't need anyway, since it was still so warm in the house). After wiping all of his profuse cum off her thighs with a few tissues, Cara turned on the small lamp on his desk and waved at me to turn off the ceiling lights. I was slightly stunned that she even knew I was there, but I realized she had probably been aware of my presence the entire time. So I turned off the ceiling lights, thus darkening the room, and Cara sat down beside James on his bed and gently began rubbing his achy, bright-red bottom, while singing a sweet lullaby to soothe him into sleep.

I sometimes put my son to sleep like this too after spanking him, just so I can make sure he doesn't masturbate as soon as I leave the room. He knows that masturbation is a very spankable offense, and it earns him not only the strap but also the hairbrush.

Unfortunately, it appeared that James was still too worked up from his spanking and strapping, and from my place in the doorway, I could see that he was subtly humping his mattress while his Auntie Cara tenderly massaged his stinging bottom. And she noticed this too.

"You stop that right now, James!" she rebuked him very sternly, giving his nude crimson cheeks several brisk slaps from her hand to accentuate her threat. "Lie still and go to sleep."

He complied, at first, becoming almost motionless where he lay, while my sister restarted her lullaby and caressed his cute round buttocks. But a moment later, he resumed his sly humping of the bed, and Cara did not miss it.

"Oh, James, really! You're impossible!" she exclaimed, as she set one hand on the small of his back, to hold him in position, and her other hand began firmly spanking his defenseless bare bottom.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Ow! Ow! I'm sorry, Auntie!" my son wailed. "I'll go to sleep; honest, I will! Ow! Owww! Please don't spank me anymore! It really hurts! Owieee!!!"

But Cara was scarcely listening. She just kept on slapping his jiggling red hind-cheeks, turning him into a truly penitent little boy. Yet neither she nor I overlooked the fact that every whack of her palm on James's bottom just made him hump his bed harder and faster, which likewise incited his Aunt Cara to spank him harder and faster. If he was going to ejaculate a second time, he had to be punished for it.

Suddenly, she paused his spanking, and her hand (that had been pinning him down) reached underneath him and grabbed a stout hold of his erection, making him squeak like a captured mouse.

"You are a very, very naughty boy!" Cara chided him afresh, while spanking his naked ruby bottom once more, with greater fervor. "You'd better not soil your clean sheets again! And don't you dare squirt your boy-milk on my hand, or else I'll put you back across my lap and paddle your bad bare bottom with your Mommy's hairbrush!"

Cara's tireless hand descended countless times against my son's smarting backside, yet every swat just urged him to thrust all the more against his soft bed and especially against his Auntie's disciplinary stroking hand. He was definitely going to cum again (that much was inevitable, as far as I was concerned), but at least he was getting well spanked for it. Oftentimes this is exactly the kind of punishment a willful boy needs.

For a brief second, I considered suggesting to my sister that she flip James over and give his naughty erect penis a good spanking for a while. But I quickly decided that she knew precisely what she was doing, and she had everything well in hand. So I kept quiet and just watched with admiration.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

"Ow! Ouch! Please, Auntie!" James begged again. "I can't help it! Oh! Owie! I can't stop...! I can't...!"

Even sooner than the first time, my son started cumming dramatically into his bed, but more so into his Aunt Cara's squeezing hand. His pained spasms came virtually in sync with the music of his smacked bottom and his Auntie's livid voice, ceaselessly telling him what a naughty boy he was. I sometimes wonder if that phrase alone excites him, being called a "naughty boy", but Cara and I can never seem to stop ourselves from saying it. It just feels so appropriate during his spankings.

When his convulsions ultimately quit, Cara also stopped spanking him. She pulled her hand out from under him and stared blankly at all the white thick cum dripping from her palm and fingers.

"You've really done it now, young man!" she announced ominously, to the sound of my son's mewling sobs. "I guess you haven't spent enough time across my lap yet, but maybe a visit from the hairbrush will teach you a thing or two."

I pitied the poor boy, to a degree. As a mother, I hate that my son has to be punished so severely, but I also understand that he needed and deserved every bit of what he was getting. If he would just learn to control his lewd impulses, he wouldn't have to be spanked so much. I know this is the only way he'll ever learn to behave, and that's why I never hesitate to do exactly what my sister did, as often as I must.

Cara glanced up at me then, and I simply nodded back at her. I speedily went to my bathroom, retrieved my large wooden hairbrush, and I took it to my sister. By the time I returned to my son's room, he was already over his Auntie's knees once again, his eternally erect penis squished against her undressed thighs and his throbbing red bottom stuck up in the air, waiting submissively for another extensive spanking with my hairbrush. As I handed the brush over to my sister, I noted that my son was very leisurely humping his Aunt Cara's smooth thighs, as if he knew instinctively that he was going to cum even more during this next spanking too, so he might as well hurry the process along. I was about to slap his bottom and scold him for what he was doing, but then I realized that Cara didn't seem at all worried by his thrusting penis and its unavoidable outcome, almost like she expected it. I knew she would punish him for his indecent conduct soon enough; so I decided to let her deal with it her way.

As I stood off to the side, Cara immediately commenced paddling James's sore heinie with the hairbrush, and the whole room reverberated with an unmusical chorus of solid wood contacting adolescent skin, mixed with refrains of boyish yelps and sniveling. My son tensed his hind-cheeks now and then, as well as his legs, and he squirmed habitually throughout his hairbrush spanking, but he knows better than to try to resist or argue his punishment, so he remained fast in position across his Auntie's knees. Just like her method with the strap, my sister made sure every swat with the hairbrush impacted fully into James's quivering buns before she raised the instrument up again. I know that Cara can spank a lot harder than she did this night, yet the loud popping of the hairbrush and my son's constant crying certainly made this punishment seem much harsher than it really was.

I did sympathize with him, honestly. Heaven knows Cara and I were spanked this exact same way across our mama's lap (yet perhaps not quite as frequently) when we were naughty girls, although I didn't orgasm nearly as often during my spankings as my son does at his age. But I learned from my punishments, and James will too, no matter how long it takes.

I admit I lost track of time during this part of James's spanking. Like me, my sister Cara tends to get carried away with meting out much-needed discipline, and she sometimes keeps an unruly child over her knees a bit longer than the child really deserves. With James, I try not to spank him for more than ten minutes at a time, unless he has done something extremely naughty, like cumming on my lap.

Still, I don't think James had been spanked over his Auntie Cara's lap for even ten minutes (with the hairbrush, I mean) when he ultimately did it again. While she rhythmically delivered swats of the hairbrush's flat-side to his recoiling tushie, and intermittently scolded him for his atrocious behavior this evening, James abruptly went into a fit of seizures, twinging and jerking erratically as he orgasmed for the third time while his Auntie spanked him. He must have spurted his cum on her thighs for thirty seconds, at the least! And as soon as he started, Cara increased the speed and fervency of his paddling, making sure that his every ejaculatory spasm was instantly followed by the hammering of his scarlet and bruised butt-cheeks, plus a more ferocious melody of "Oh, you bad, naughty little boy!" from her. Even after his intense climax passed, James was forced to endure another few minutes of bare-bottom hairbrushing, till we all were certain that he would never forget the consequences of his actions. He sobbed and apologized relentlessly, and he seemed truly pitiful now as he just lied there, strengthless and helpless, across his Auntie's lap, utterly contrite and accepting of his continued punishment.

At last, Cara stopped his spanking, and she sighed with faux-exhaustion as she handed my hairbrush back to me with a silent "thank you". Typically, she would allow James a moment to control his panting and crying before assisting him to his feet, but she and I both recognized that it was going to take much longer than usual for his present tears to dry. So instead, she pulled him up beside her on the bed and hugged him tightly against her bosom, shushing him and telling him that it was all right now, that his naughtiness was forgiven and she still loved him, no matter what.

My sister's gentle, caring, motherly nature never ceases to amaze me.

Eventually, James's crying did subside, as did his big wet erection (although that never seems to stay away for long). Now that his punishment was over, it was well past time for him to be in bed — just not his bed.

"Since he's dirtied his bed-sheets," Cara said, "he'll just have to sleep with me tonight. That way, I can keep an eye on him as well."

I was rather glad that she suggested this, so that I wouldn't have to. I was not in the mood to do laundry at this hour of the night, and also, I figured it would be best if James slept with either myself or his Auntie tonight, so that we could be sure he didn't find a chance to masturbate after such a sexually stimulating spanking session. I think my son wanted to protest having to sleep with his Auntie, like some doted-on little boy, but he didn't dare dispute our decision.

With that issue resolved, Cara took James into the bathroom to get him and herself cleaned up, and I scurried off towards the opposite end of the hallway. It had been a long day, and I was very tired. But before I went to bed, I peeked in on my daughter Kylie, to make sure the commotion of her brother's spankings had not disturbed her. She was deep in dreamland, all snuggled up under her covers, so I gave her another soft kiss goodnight and went to my room. Fortunately, Kylie is a very heavy sleeper like her daddy. My husband was asleep some time before all the ruckus began, since he had to get up very early for the morning shift at work, and even he hadn't been awakened by all the noise.

I quietly got myself ready for bed, yet just as I was about to hop under the blankets next to my hubby, I heard the distinctive sound of smacking coming from the room next to ours — Cara's room. The slapping seemed slightly different from the normal whacking of a bottom, almost lighter and milder. But the sobbing of a penitent bad boy was unmistakable. So I pressed my ear to the wall, and I could hear my son's voice whimpering: "OW! No, Please, Auntie! I'm so sorry! OW! OUCH! Please, Auntie! Don't spank my penis anymore! OWIE! I promise I won't rub my erection against your bottom ever again! OHHH! OWWW!"

Well, it's about time that boy got his naughty penis spanked too, I thought contentedly to myself, with a smile.