First Birthday Spanking – 6
By Jonathan Quincy Graves
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Part 6
Vera smiled with delight and satisfaction as she watched petite but busty Marge hop up and down while trying to rub the flame out of her burning bottom. She’d rucked her little yellow sundress up to her waist in the back as her hands tried to soothe the pain. Escaping strands from her blond ponytail were pasted across her tear-stained cheeks, and her mouth was open, emitting little mewling sounds of distress.
Vera had allowed Marge up off her lap after quite an extensive and effective little spanking, the first spanking Marge had received in her 35 years. This explained her current actions and appearance, but Vera’s visage clouded as she thought Marge was overdoing it some. She had not employed her paddle or her strap, just her capable bare hand.
“That’s enough of your histrionics,” Marge declared. “Get your nose into that corner and use your hands to hold up the hem of your dress in back. No talking, no rubbing, and no fidgeting. I want to enjoy the view of that colorful pink and scarlet portrait we created while I fix myself another cup of tea.”
Marge scampered to the indicated corner in her little white socks, holding up her dress in the back and doing her best to stand completely still. She’d found the bare-bottomed spanking of Vickie’s husband Bill to be very erotic, especially when she applied her hand to his hot bottom. Even the fantasy that raised of being spanked herself had been stimulating, but the reality washed all of that excitement away, replacing it with burning discomfort and distress. Reality was not at all like the fantasy she’d imagined. Now, however, as she thought about what she just endured—the display she afforded her older neighbor as she was spanked, her post spanking antics, her current trembling in the corner—the erotic content returned. She was aware of her juices seeping and hoped they would not run down her legs in the clear view of her disciplinarian.
Vera spent the next fifteen minutes preparing and enjoying a second cup of tea, then washing and drying the few dishes she and Marge dirtied. She liked a clean and well-ordered kitchen, and its owner was occupied at the moment. She smiled again at the thought as her gaze fixed on the younger woman’s delightful bottom.
When she finished the cleanup to her satisfaction, Vera dried her hands and turned to Marge. “Come here, girl,” she ordered.
Marge turned from the corner and walked up to Vera, eyes downcast, dropping her hands to her sides.
“Have you learned your lesson, young lady?” Vera asked, scrutinizing Marge closely.
“Oh yes, Aunty Vera, I will never be so naughty again.”
While she was speaking, Vera caught site of what appeared to be a hard, impertinent nipple poking against Marge’s thin white bra and even thinner yellow sundress.
“I’m not so sure,” Vera stated, reaching out to stroke the front of Marge’s breast with her palm. “Lower your dress, and remove your brazier,” she commanded.
“But Vera…” Marge began, her high cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
“Is a reminder of the importance of obedience needed so soon?” Vera asked, raising her left eyebrow.
“No, no, I’ll do it,” Marge said, reaching back to unbutton her dress. After shrugging it off her shoulders so that the top hung down from her waist, Marge unsnapped her bra fastening in the front between her proud breasts. As she opened it to the sides, her breasts were pulled wide clinging to the deep cups, then swung back together and sagged, just a little—remarkably little, given Marge was heavily endowed and now in her mid-thirties. It was obvious at a glance, that Marge’s exposed nipples were jutting forth, fully erect.
“What is the meaning of this display, young lady?” Vera demanded, reaching out and pinching Marge’s rock-hard left nipple between her thumb and forefinger.
“I’m sorry, Aunty Vera,” Marge said, reverting to the little girl, “I couldn’t help it.”
“It’s as I thought; sterner measures are required. Pick up your panties,” Vera directed, pointing to where they had been kicked off during Marge’s earlier spanking. “Remove your bra, place them both, neatly folded, on the table, then refasten your dress. You and I are going across the alley to my house. This impertinent nipple earns the strap.”
“Please don’t, Aunty Vera,” Marge pleaded, while doing what she’d been told, “I’ll be good, I promise I will.”
“I know you will, my dear, after the lesson has been completed.”
In a few short minutes, Vera led Marge out of her kitchen door, across the yard, out the garden gate and across the alley to Vera’s house. Marge felt almost naked in her short little sundress, wearing neither bra nor panties underneath. It was a warm day, but the breeze of their passage pasted the thin yellow fabric against her breasts, revealing their still tumescent condition. Marge was in a near panic, fearing that an errant gust might raise the hem of her dress in back. That would reveal the glowing state of her well-spanked bottom to anyone who might be watching. The combination of these emotions was doing nothing to dampen her erotic excitement—dampen might be an accurate choice of words in this context, as the betraying moisture welled between her legs.
Once indoors, Vera led Marge down to her basement rec room. The room was without windows, softly but dimly lit, with a large screen TV against one wall and several comfortable overstuffed chairs arranged in an arc facing it. Vera stopped with Marge next to the largest of these, which was also the one with the greatest amount of open space around it.
“Remove that dress, young lady,” Vera commanded, “fold it neatly and place it on the coffee table in front of this chair. Then place yourself over the arm, face down in the cushion. I am going to get my strap. When I return, I want you naked with that pertinent little bottom up and ready for the discipline it deserves.”
“Yes, Aunty Vera,” Marge managed, her big blue eyes welling with soon to be shed tears.
Vera strode over to the steps, pausing half way up to see that Marge was following her instructions. She took her time, visiting the bathroom and pouring herself a shot of Glenmorangie before going into her small office to collect her strap. With years of practical experience, she knew the tension and anticipation building in the penitent’s mind was worth at least ten additional kisses of its supple leather.
Meanwhile, Marge positioned herself as instructed. She was lying naked over the high, soft arm of the overstuffed chair, her forehead on the seat cushion, her still pink bottom well up, and her toes just reaching the floor behind her. It was a humiliating posture for the woman who had never been spanked before today; a woman who had been this naked in front of very few people her entire lifetime. None, in fact, outside of her mother, a handful of doctors and nurses over the years, a boyfriend in high school (although he had never seen her completely naked), and her ex-husband Jim. And, for none of those, would she ever have struck such a revealing and humiliating pose. If not for the uncompromising nature of the hand spanking Vera already delivered, she would not be doing it now. But she had learned what receiving a spanking meant, and she feared and dreaded the strap.
After about twenty minutes, Vera decided Marge was probably in the proper headspace to proceed. She checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror, adjusted her hair and her dress and proceeded to the basement stairs.
Marge did an involuntary jump when she heard the basement door open and Vera’s heels coming back down the stairs. She squeezed her eyes shut, imagining the scene she presented as she came into Vera’s line of sight.
“I’m glad to see you can at least follow simple instructions,” Vera said as she reached out to caress Marge’s delightful pink bottom. “I think given a few sessions with my strap, there is hope for you yet. Is there anything you would like to say before we begin?”
“I’m so sorry for being naughty, Aunty Vera, please don’t spank me again. Please don’t,” Marge wailed.
“There, there, girl,” Vera said. She had to admit this younger woman touched her. She was also getting turned on by this, the apex of a very stimulating afternoon. “Be brave,” she counseled Marge while squeezing and kneading her warm pliant bottom with her right hand while her left stroked her back. “It will all be over soon, and all of your naughtiness will be forgiven.” For a little while, Vera thought, and smiled. My, what a rewarding turn this friendship has taken.
Vera removed her hands from Marge’s now trembling body and stepped back a little to allow room for a full swing. With all preparations complete, the strapping began.
END of Part 6
Revised July 2022.
The story continues with Part 7.