Great Aunt Harriet

It was the third time Great Aunt Harriet spanked me when I realised the truth, both about her and about me. Why I called her Great Aunt Harriet was not clear, but I had been brought up to call her that and now I was all too obviously quite grown up myself the habit had continued. She was not even a relative but with all the family troubles I had been sent to live with her and she had been put in charge of my “moral welfare.” If only they could have realised. Barely middle aged and with the figure of a young girl she was still dangerously attractive and had a patina of glamour and experience about her that made both young and older men alike lasciviously eyeing her in the street as she went about her business.

The first time she spanked me it was fairly uneventful than for the fact that by any normal standards I was way too old to be spanked. She put a certain amount of energy into it but as she didn’t even raise my skirt I was well protected and pain was hardly in the equation.

What did register was the weird idea that here I was on the verge of full adulthood and now with my first proper boyfriend and I was across my aunt’s knee like a naughty chid having my bottom smacked. It was strange and undignified yet comforting as well because the entire time she was beating a rhythm on my bottom she was constantly stressing that it was for my own good.

It was the fact that I now had a boyfriend with all that implied that was the reason for this punishment. I was deeply fond of Harriet and never hidden anything from her and that was what led to her spanking me like this. Apparently I was at a dangerous age and if I wasn’t spanked regularly I could easily turn into a slut like my mother. The fact that from what knew of her history, Harriet could out slut any woman on the planet she was clearly putting to one side.

The second spanking was more memorable and came close on the heels of the first.

“I suppose you let him touch your breasts?” She said taking me over her knee with what can only be described as relish.

“I suppose I do.” I answered, determined to be straight forward and honest.

“And does it feel nice?” She continued and I told her that it felt wonderful, which could have been a mistake as this time she pulled my skirt all the way up.

For one terrifying moment I thought she was going to pull my knickers down as well, but after fingering the waistband for a second, her hand part way inside she decided against it, but for all the protection they were she might just as well have. With nothing but the thin cotton of my panties to protect me I discovered that being spanked isn’t merely humiliating, it hurts as well. With quiet forensic thoroughness she spanked every inch of my upturned bottom as I squirmed and wriggled and protested . Strangely though it never once occurred to me to actually resist or deny her right to deal with me this way. She was in charge of me, and if she felt I deserved to be spanked than presumably I did. And as just as with the last time it was strangely exciting I gave myself up to it till she stopped and took time to sooth and feel my burning cheeks.

“Does your boyfriend spank you?” She asked, and such a thrill shot through me at the thought of John doing so it was like a surge of electricity. “Of course not!” I protested. “Why on earth would he?”

“Yes! Why on earth would he?” She answered, then letting me up she hugged and kissed me and told me how fond of me she was, and as always I responded with equal affection kissing her on her still very desirable mouth and feeling very warm and close to her. She had spanked me for my own good and I was glowing with a strange warmth I could not understand but which echoed how I felt when John feverishly explored my new lush breasts.

And then there was the third spanking when everything became clear. Having come back from an evening with John flushed and dishevelled, Harriet announced that what ever it was I had been doing, I clearly had to be punished for it. Still glowing from my time with John and with a few glasses of wine inside me I realised that I actually wanted her to, that somehow the pain and the humiliation of it would heighten whatever it was churning round inside me even further. I was convinced that this time she would pull my knickers down and I knew I wanted her to very badly, but things went even further than that. She said that to get the message across it would be best that when she spanked me I should be naked.

“Naked?” I gasped, my heart pounding. “ Completely naked?”

“Yes, I think that would be best. Why don’t I help you undress?” And that’s what she did, hook by hook, button by button she eased every one of my garments from me while I stood there and let her, my heart racing in my rib cage. When I was standing there in front without a stitch to cover my young nakedness she met my eye, a flash of understanding passing between us.

“Are you ready to be spanked?” She asked me, and breathless with an arousal I could still not understand I answered that I was. It was all so clear that only my inexperience had hidden it from me. Fantasising about the sex I was having with John while she spanked me for it made her sexually aroused which was just as well because it had exactly the same effect on me.

As I lay there across her knee with all my secret places on display I shivered with excited anticipation of how this one would feel. She took an age exploring my curves and dints with her hands , all the while telling me that she had no choice but to do this and at each touch and caress I let out a moan. When at last she commenced to spank me it was slowly and lovingly yet still making sure that I received its full punitive benefit, pain and pleasure mingling in one strange and joyous sensation centred on my burning buttocks.

When it was all over she kissed me with quiet tenderness and for a moment I though that it was going to go further but it did not, and in my bed later as I pleasured myself to sleep which had now become something of habit , memories of John’s impatient hardness and Harriet’s punitive attentions were all mixed up in one strange erotic cocktail flooding through my imagination.

But this was only the beginning . When I was next with John, the memory of Harriet’s punitive attentions were so much at the top of my thoughts that when we were locked together in one of those exciting pre-sex moments I simply had to tell him. “ You’ll never guess! Harriet spanked me yesterday.” I whispered, and in my hand his hardness took on a new urgency.

Spanked you!” He exclaimed. “Actually spanked you? I mean …”

“Yes,” I went on, telling him exactly what I realised he wanted to know. “Put me over her knee like a naughty girl and spanked me .”

“My God!” His hands were all over me and his mouth hungry for mine in ways it had never been before. “But then I suppose you are naughty girl aren’t you? I mean with all the wicked things you do with me, maybe being spanked is exactly what you need. Did she pull your panties down?"

 “Worse than that! She undressed me completely.”

I had never known him so aroused. He was already inside me, fucking me with a primal intensity, and the two of us were juddering with our excitement when at last he filled me with his seed.

And of course I told Harriet. Other than that this had come about because of my telling John how she spanked me I gave her every detail. With my hands pinned together behind my back and my panties pulled down to mid thigh I narrated every fondle and thrust, and she spanked me for every one of them, carefully and attentively crimsoning my bottom but in between caressing it and whispering that this was only because she cared for me.

My life was now very strange. It seemed that it was only five minutes ago I had lost my virginity, and now I had become the central character in a weird erotic triangle, barely understanding my own responses to all this but knowing that it could well be the most exciting and arousing period in my life. Every night when I told Harriet in lascivious detail what John and I had got up to in his huge bed, turning myself on in the process and knowing that I was having the same effect on her, she spanked me for it in different and more inventive ways, each a little more exciting than he last. Somehow these spankings were the final end game of my sex with John, bringing me dangerously to the brink of the orgasms I gave myself later in bed. And then in turn at John’s flat, as he fucked me I would tell him in precise detail of the last spanking had been given, the two of us fighting to keep back our ever more explosive crisis as we did so till we finally gave in to it, screaming like banshees in our joint release.

 It was all too erotically perfect save for a final squaring of the circle. I desperately wanted John to spank me, but despite his clear arousal when we talked about my sessions over Harriet’s knee, it never seemed to occur to him to do so, and I was still at that stage too inexperienced to know how to get him to do so. And as well as that, I desperately wanted to have sex with Harriet. Being spanked by her, the long slow preparation as she told me what she had to do and the delicious fear as she pulled my knickers down and I wondered just this one would sting and burn, made me so aroused that sometimes I thought I would actually climax there and then. That it was having the same effect on her was beyond doubt, and I was sure that as I arched and mewed in my bed with my fingers busy at my pleasure button that she was doing exactly the same thing with hers, the two of us in our separate rooms joined together in an aria of satisfaction.

And then it happened. The unexpected conclusion that anyone more experienced than me would have expected from the beginning. A change in my day's schedule brought me home three hours earlier than usual and I walked in and found them. On the big couch in the middle of the room Harriet was a across Johns knee, and with a look of intense anticipation on his face he was gently pulling down her silky knickers.

That was the moment when I finally grew up and I’m proud to say I dealt with this cataclysmic discovery in a very grown up way. How? Well that’s another story.