Aunt Sarah's Slippering
and other short stories
by
Stanlegh Meresith
All rights reserved
Copyright © January 2016 by Stanlegh Meresith
Published by LSF Publications
http://www.lsfpublications.com/
Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.
Cover image kindly provided by Janus:
http://www.janusworldwide.com/
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. It includes adult spanking and some sexual scenes. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events are purely coincidental.
David's beloved grandfather, George Atwell, has just died and the entire family have been summoned to the reading of his Last Will and Testament. David and his cousin Robert are left £10,000 each, the remaining assets being split equally between David's father, his Uncle Ted and his Aunt Sarah. However Aunt Sarah's bequest comes with a rather unusual condition. Generally regarded by everyone in the family as being selfish, greedy, opinionated and spoilt, it nevertheless comes as a huge surprise when the lawyer reads from the Will, stating how insufferable and ungrateful Susan has become over the years - and if she wishes to claim her bequest, she must submit to a bare bottom spanking from her brothers, in front of all the assembled relatives. The lawyer then produces a big brown slipper from his desk drawer while Sarah stares in outrage and shock.
However, the lure of £250,000 is certainly motivational, and red-faced, she gets into position over the desk. The whacks descend thick and fast, and very soon an unusually contrite Sarah is reduced to wailing and blubbering as she receives her very long overdue punishment.
This volume also contains the following short stories: Obedience; The Grit in the Oyster; Mary's Brush with the Law; Spanking Gazette, Mrs JGC, May 1989; The Master and Margaret; Vanilla Surprise; The Sound of One Hand Clapping; and Something for the American Market.
Contents
Aunt Sarah's Slippering
Obedience
The Grit in the Oyster
Mary's Brush with the Law
Spanking Gazette, Mrs JGC, May 1989
The Master and Margaret
Vanilla Surprise
The Sound of One Hand Clapping
Something for the American Market
Also from LSF Publications...
Aunt Sarah's Slippering
People sometimes ask me how I became a spanko - when did I first realise I was crazy about the idea of spanked bottoms?
We spankos like to compare notes on the origin of our obsession, and I know quite a few who swear they were born with it, almost as if it were in their genes or something. But it wasn't like that for me. I know exactly when it began. It was the day I went to the reading of my grandfather's will ...
I suppose I should have felt sorry for Aunt Sarah, but I didn't! Not until after, anyway. To my mind, she deserved it, and I'm pretty sure everyone else thought so too, everyone except Uncle Bernard of course, but I think even he was secretly rather pleased - just that, it being his wife, he couldn't show it. Poor Uncle Bernard. I may only have been twelve then, but even I could see who the boss was in their household!
I loved Gramps very much, and I cried after I left the hospital on that last visit with Dad, and I cried bitterly the following week, when they told me that he'd died.
Gramps was good fun; he always gave me sweets, and his Christmas presents were great. Not like Aunt Sarah. She gave me things meant for boys half my age, and her presents were always cheap - made in China, guaranteed to fall apart after ten minutes. The Christmas before Gramps died, I heard Dad telling Mum, "She loves money too much, that sister of mine. Fancy giving David a 10-piece plastic jigsaw puzzle of Tienanmen Square! I mean, really! And it says, quite clearly, 'For ages 3 to 5'! Can't she read? I wouldn't be surprised if she got it in one of those '99 Pence' shops. It's a damn shame."
And yet Uncle Bernard was rich - they lived in a big mansion in Dulwich, and Aunt Sarah was always boasting about how much her new carpet cost, or how her new outfit was made especially for her by the same designer as Princess So-and-so. Dad told us she'd paid two thousand pounds once for some curtain fittings! Two thousand quid - just for the fittings! Mum said she was just selfish and spoilt - she couldn't stand Aunt Sarah, but she tried to be nice when they came round, for Dad's sake.
Anyway, a few days after the funeral, Dad said we were going to the reading of the will. He said they didn't usually bother with a reading of the will because you don't have to under English law, but Gramps had stated quite clearly that he wanted his lawyer, Mr Snape, to read it out anyway - and not just that: Gramps had said everyone in the family had to be there, otherwise he'd leave all his money to charity, which seemed a bit weird. But Dad said Gramps was sure to have left me a bequest, so it'd be fun and I'd have something to look forward to. I was pleased. And as it turned out, Dad was right about the fun part, just not quite in the way he'd imagined!
We had to drive nearly two hours to get to Mr Snape's office in the City, and when we were shown into this stuffy room with wood-panelled walls and fancy upright chairs in rows facing a big desk, I was beginning to wish I hadn't come after all.
Dad's brother, Uncle Ted, was already there with Aunt Matilda and my cousin Robert, and there were a few other people I didn't remember - distant relatives of Grandma's apparently, who Dad said he hadn't seen since her passing, two years earlier.
Mr Snape was a tall, thin chap; he wore glasses with no rims. He stood behind his desk looking worried, shuffling papers around. We sat down and waited. There was a big grandfather clock in the corner behind the desk which chimed when the hands reached two o'clock; it made me think of Gramps.
The reading was supposed to start then, but by ten past Aunt Sarah and Uncle Bernard still hadn't arrived and Mr Snape was getting even more fidgety. Dad was just whispering to Mum about how typical it was of Aunt Sarah to arrive late so she could make a grand entrance, when that's exactly what she did.
She flounced in and announced, "We are soooo sorry, everyone," in that loud, false voice she'd put on whenever she thought there was anyone to show off to. "Bernard had trouble parking the Bentley. Some ghastly little man told him he couldn't leave it outside." Uncle Bernard followed, looking annoyed.
She was wearing a bright pink outfit of jacket and skirt, which I'm sure must have been terribly expensive, of course. She sat down right at the front, even though everyone else had chosen the second or third rows, and then she waved impatiently at Uncle Bernard to join her. He sat down, and then Mr Snape cleared his throat and picked up some papers. He looked rather embarrassed.
"I have here the last will and testament of George Albert Atwell, and in a moment I shall read out the deceased's instructions, which are ... ahem ... very clearly and precisely expressed. However ..." He looked even more embarrassed, "... I wish to state that there are ... ahem ... certain aspects which ... well, let's just say they are highly unusual and erm ..." He stopped speaking, though his mouth continued to open and close, and then he just shrugged. Adjusting his spectacles, he looked down at the papers in his hands and started to read:
"I, George Albert Atwell, being of sound mind, do hereby make the following bequests: to my eldest son Henry (that was my Dad) I leave my house in Beckenham, and the sum of 50,000 pounds."
Dad let out a happy sigh.
"To my youngest son, Edward, I leave the house in Deal, and the sum of 110,000 pounds."
Dad looked over at Uncle Ted and smiled. Uncle Ted looked pleased as well.
"To my grandchildren, David and Robert, I leave the sum of 10,000 pounds each, to be held in trust until they are twenty-one; and to each of my late wife's relatives invited here today, I leave the sum of 5,000 pounds."
There were some grateful murmurs from the Grandma group. I was happy too, though I didn't know what 'in trust' meant.
There was a long pause then, and gradually everyone turned to look at Aunt Sarah, because she hadn't been mentioned yet. She was sitting very upright and stiff. She'd gone bright red. Finally, Mr Snape went on:
"And to my daughter, Sarah, I make the bequest of 250,000 pounds, subject to the following conditions, the reasons for which I shall now explain."
Mr Snape paused and cleared his throat again, keeping his head down, staring at the paper as if he didn't want to look at Aunt Sarah. Aunt Sarah herself had smiled broadly at the mention of the money, but at the word 'conditions' she'd started, and her blush deepened - her ears became so red I wanted to laugh. She edged forward in her seat.
"Sarah," read Mr Snape, "you have, over the twenty years since you left home, become completely insufferable. You've patronised us all, regaling us with tedious tales of your expensive lifestyle and high society connections, yet not once have you helped a single one of your less fortunate relatives. You've shown not the slightest sign of gratitude for the start in life you were given by your mother and me. Instead, you virtually ignored us. And when you did deign to visit, you made your scorn for our home - your own childhood home - painfully clear." Mr Snape took a deep breath before continuing. "On reflection, I deeply regret the fact that I did not punish you as a child with my slipper as I did your brothers. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that this was the gravest mistake of my life. However, as they say: better late than never."
The silence was eerie. Aunt Sarah's mouth fell open. Mr Snape went on, his voice a bit croaky.
"Sarah, I have no wish to be unfair. I am leaving you a share of my wealth equal to those of your brothers. But in order to lay claim to it, you must submit - right now, before your relatives gathered here - to a slippering from both Henry and Edward. You will bend over the desk, facing the room, and bare your bottom, just as I made them do as children, and you will receive twelve whacks from each of them. They will, no doubt, be extremely embarrassed to be put in this position, but I know that their sense of honour will not allow them to refuse you the opportunity to claim your inheritance, should you choose to accept these conditions. If you do not, then your share will be divided equally between them."
There was a brief silence before Aunt Sarah burst out,
"But ... but ... this is outrageous! It's ... it's ridiculous!" She looked around, red as a beetroot, glaring, daring anyone to say a word. She turned back to the lawyer. "Snape, this cannot be legal! You must declare this will null and void immediately. It's ... it's absurd, and ... and completely unacceptable!"
Fumbling awkwardly with his specs, and still avoiding her eyes, Mr Snape replied,
"I'm sorry, Madam, but the will is entirely in order, and the deceased's wishes are quite clear. At this point, I have been instructed to place this ..." He opened a drawer of the desk and took out a large brown slipper, which, leaning forward, he laid at the front of his desk in plain sight, "... here, and inform you that you have two minutes to make your decision."
There was a long silence then, broken only by the slow, measured ticking of the grandfather clock. All eyes were on Aunt Sarah. She just stared, horrified, at the slipper on the desk. Uncle Bernard sat back (to be out of her line of vision) and folded his arms across his chest - I'm sure I saw a tiny hint of a smile on his face. Then I noticed Dad looking across at Uncle Ted, who also had a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The seconds ticked by. Mr Snape looked at his watch. I was beginning to think Aunt Sarah really was going to turn down quarter of a million quid, when Dad spoke up:
"Well, Sarah, you can't say you haven't had this coming - since you were about five, I'd say." Aunt Sarah lowered her head. "So," Dad continued, "what's it to be?"
Her face as red as a ripe tomato, Aunt Sarah stood up without a word and went round to the other side of the desk. Mr Snape got up and stepped aside, lifting his chair out of the way. He turned to Dad and said,
"Mr Atwell, there is no requirement for me to be present. I shall leave matters in your hands. Please call for me when the spa ... er ... when the conditions have been met. There are papers to sign." Dad stood up and nodded, and Mr Snape left quickly by a side door, closing it very quietly behind him.
Aunt Sarah stood looking down at the desk, her perfectly manicured fingers, with their bright pink nail varnish, stretched straight, poised on its edge. Her breasts rose and fell under her pink jacket, as if she was using her breath to control herself and endure this awful humiliation. It was so embarrassing, but secretly I was delighted; my heart was pounding with an excitement I didn't yet understand.
"All right if I go first, Ted?" asked Dad. I was amazed he could be so casual, and I realised that he was actually enjoying this (as, guiltily, was I). Years of putting up with Aunt Sarah's snootiness were about to be compensated for, and I could see by the steely glint in his eyes that he meant to make the most of it.
"Be my guest, old chap," said Uncle Ted breezily. He'd also got up, and was standing at the far side of the desk. "I'll be on stand-by, just in case you need a hand," he added.
After Dad had overseen Aunt Sarah pulling her skirt up and lowering her knickers (I didn't get to see much, because she bent her knees and was shielded by the desk), he picked up the slipper and smacked it onto his palm.
"I remember you, you old devil," he said, holding it up and addressing it. It made me think of Hamlet with that skull, a scene we'd read at school that term. (Alas, poor Aunt Sarah!) "Eh, Ted?"
Uncle Ted smiled, shaking his head wonderingly. "Oh yes. I don't think I'll ever forget those wallopings, Henry. Dad sure could lay it on, and, gosh, how it stung!"
A kind of squeak emerged from Aunt Sarah, as if she was about to protest, but she kept her head down and remained silent. Her skirt was bunched up at her waist now, and I could see the right side of her bottom, all bare and white. It jutted out so invitingly, and something lurched low down in my stomach, a kind of hollow that filled with a delicious electric buzz. And when she bent forward and reached out with her hands to hold on to the far edge of the desk, and I saw the perfect round curve of her right buttock, I felt as if I was going to explode with excitement. My face was burning red, and I prayed my mother would think I was just embarrassed, which I was, but ... well, you know how it is.
Dad stood behind Aunt Sarah on the other side. Holding the slipper by its heel, he started to swing his arm in slowly, stopping when the flat of the slipper came up next to Aunt Sarah's bottom, then repeating the movement slowly, like a golfer taking a practice stroke.
Aunt Sarah couldn't stand it any longer. "Oh for God's sake, Henry!" she cried, turning her head slightly. "Just get on with it, will you? Isn't it enough that ... that ... I have to suffer this ... indignity?"
Dad paused, the slipper poised in mid-air. His eyes narrowed. Uh oh! I thought. Here it comes!
"Indignity, Sarah?" he shouted. "You have the gall to talk to me about indignity?" He brought the slipper smacking down with a loud crack. Aunt Sarah gave a high-pitched screech and leapt up, clutching her bottom.
"Yeeeoow!! Ow! Ow! Ow!" she cried, her face all scrunched up.
Uncle Ted stepped forward, looking to Dad for instructions. Dad nodded. Uncle Ted reached out and took Aunt Sarah firmly by the shoulders. Forcing her forward again, he said, "Now then, Sarah, this is no more than we had to put up with all those years - and often enough thanks to your sneaky whining and exaggerations - so I suggest you take a deep breath and receive what's due with a good grace."
"Nooo! Please!" begged Aunt Sarah, struggling to rise. But Uncle Ted held her firm.
CRAC
K! came the slipper again, and Aunt Sarah's head flew back, her mouth wide open in a silent scream, before the sound emerged.
"Aaaaaarggh!"
Then Dad gave her another, and another, and the whacks came thick and fast. I watched in awe, gazing one moment at the way her right buttock got squished by the impact of the slipper, and then switching to stare in fascination at her agonised reaction as it whacked her other buttock.
When Dad had finished, he passed the slipper to Uncle Ted and they swapped places. Aunt Sarah was sobbing and moaning, her shoulders shaking and her hair all mussed up and spread around her head on the surface of the desk.
Uncle Ted took a firm hold of the slipper. He, too, held it up before his eyes for a moment, as if admiring it from this angle for the first time. Then he, too, measured it against Aunt Sarah's bottom before swiping it hard and fast to land with another loud crack on her exposed bottom. I could see ovals of reddened flesh on the side of her right buttock, and my heart raced even more as Uncle Ted set about delivering his dozen.
Aunt Sarah squealed and begged after every whack, her bottom writhing from side to side.
"Nooo! Please, Ted! Not so haaaaaard! Pleeeease! Ow! OUCH! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
I didn't want it to end. I counted each whack that Uncle Ted gave - they were just as hard as Dad's, but a bit slower, thankfully, more spaced out. I could see Aunt Sarah's right buttock getting redder and redder until, by the twelfth and last of Uncle Ted's sturdy swings, it was blotchy and almost purple.
There was an awkward pause after that. The two brothers looked at each other. Aunt Sarah was crying and squirming still, bending and stretching her fingers on the edge of the desk. Slowly, Dad lifted his hands away from her shoulders, while Uncle Ted reached down to pull up her knickers. Then he manoeuvred her skirt back down over her bottom, which made her yelp again.
Aunt Sarah's Slippering: and other short stories Page 1
