by Frank Martinet
Charlie's aunt was a schoolteacher. That always made him nervous, because as far as he knew, teachers were the stern sort who scolded him and made him study and read and had long wooden rulers they used to rap his knuckles and backside when he didn't obey.
This image was as far from Aunt Grace as he could imagine. She was slender and blond, very pretty, with a huge smile that went from ear to ear. She was always giggling and laughing. Her eyes were large and blue and full of mischief. She seemed young, like a girl herself, and if Charlie had seen correctly, she wasn't too old for a swat on the behind herself.
It had only happened a few times, but he swore that Uncle Henry had given his aunt something harder than a pat on the rump. The first time had been sort of friendly-like, a little encouragement to go into the kitchen and make dinner. Charlie hadn't thought much about other than to notice Aunt Grace's butt for the first time. She was wearing slacks that were snug and shapely, showing off what seemed to him a large and very round ass.
After that, he paid more attention to that part of his aunt's anatomy, and he soon concluded that she had a fine figure, just about the finest he'd ever seen. She had graceful curves that were just right, not too fat, not too skinny. He compared her to all his teachers and knew that she was the prettiest of all.
Then one evening, during dinner, as Grace was clearing the table, she made some comment that Charlie didn't understand. He was barely paying attention for it was boring adult conversation about taxes and politics, but he gathered that Uncle Henry didn't like Grace's impertinent words. Charlie knew impertinent - he was reprimanded at school all the time for that - though he didn't quite understand why it was bad.
Uncle Henry had grabbed Aunt Grace as she was near him and delivered a sharp smack on her behind. This wasn't friendly like the last time. It was more serious, and Grace's mouth formed a large 'O' of surprise as she gasped at the sting. Charlie knew how that felt, getting a smack when you weren't expecting it, but he was stunned it could happen to a grown woman like Aunt Grace.
The third time Charlie saw his aunt spanked was in the kitchen. He didn't really see it as her lower half was hidden behind the counter, but he heard it and he saw her reaction. Uncle Henry had sidled up behind Grace and whacked her butt good. Charlie could see no reason behind it, but what was strange was that though the whack was a good hard one, hard enough to make Charlie tear up, it only made Aunt Grace giggle and turn around and playfully scold her husband with a hissed, "Not now! We have company!"
These mysteries puzzled the boy, but he didn't dwell on them. He was curious, not obsessed. The idea that Aunt Grace, as grownup and pretty as she was, and a teacher to boot, could still be rebuked with a spank, made him feel closer to her. She seemed eons older than him, though clearly she was much younger than Uncle Henry, who had graying hair and a hard grizzled look, and he wondered just how old she was.
He asked his mom, once, and she told him that was none of his business and that good little boys should never ask a woman her age. It was impolite.
That made no sense, of course, but he didn't argue. One didn't argue with a woman holding a wooden spoon, even if that spoon was covered with cookie dough you might be allowed to lick off if you weren't impertinent.
Then one weekend his parents went away. It was all very strange, the two of them giggling and acting childish. His mother said something about an anniversary, but Charlie didn't understand what that had to do with going away and why he couldn't come along, especially since the remote cabin in the mountains sounded like fun.
But Charlie got to go stay with Aunt Grace, so he didn't care. His aunt picked him up on Friday after school, and Monday was a holiday, so he would be at his relatives' place for three whole days. His mother had given him a long lecture on behaving himself, which had been embarrassing. She'd even gone to the trouble of pointing out that Aunt Grace had full permission to put Charlie over her knee if needed, which was even worse.
"I've told her if you disobey or make a mess or do anything wrong, she can pull down your pants and soundly spank your bare bottom," added his mother at breakfast that morning before school. "So you'd better be a good little boy."
Charlie blushed hot enough to start a fire. He was so glad Aunt Grace wasn't there to hear that, but later in the day he realized that his mother must have told his aunt those exact instructions. He couldn't believe Aunt Grace knew about his spankings on the bare bottom, or that she might give him one. Or even more than one: after all, he was going to be at her house for three whole days. A boy could get a lot of spankings in three days.
But Aunt Grace was nothing but smiles and laughter when she picked him up. She took him out for ice cream, rolling her eyes when he asked if it wouldn't spoil his dinner.
"You eat like a horse," she said. "You're a growing boy and I've never seen a boy turn down my famous spaghetti and meatballs. Besides, dinner isn't for hours, so enjoy your Rocky Road."
Charlie did, and he loved being with his aunt, walking down the sidewalk of town with her, and through the park where he got to see squirrels and ducks in the pond. And lots of dogs, who liked to chase those ducks and squirrels.
Aunt Grace did scold him once for getting his shoes muddy, but unlike his mother, who would have been furious, his aunt only chided him gently and suggested he stay on the footpaths from then on and not go near the water.
The boy breathed a sigh of relief, his mind filled with images of his bare bottom across Aunt Grace's lap as her hand reddened his naked cheeks. He wondered if she had a hairbrush in that purse of hers - that was a truly terrifying thought, and he was as perfect as a robot boy the rest of the afternoon.
Dinner was as wonderful as Aunt Grace had promised, though she did get red sauce on her white blouse and reprimanded herself. "I always forget to never wear white when I'm cooking stuff that stains," she moaned.
"Maybe you need a reminder," Uncle Henry said in a tone that sounded faintly ominous to Charlie. His aunt blushed and looked away rapidly, her ears going red. Charlie didn't understand why she was so flustered. She knocked over her water glass as she was gathering up her dishes. Fortunately it was empty, but she looked at Uncle Henry as though terrified he might put her over his knee.
Once that idea had occurred to Charlie, he couldn't help but think it every time he saw his aunt and uncle. Uncle Henry was the gruff sort, with a dry sense of humor that confused Charlie and made him feel awkward, and he seemed like just the type to put an impertinent person across his lap and spank their bare bottom until it glowed. The boy wasn't crazy about imagining that happening to him, but if Aunt Grace was so treated he wouldn't mind at all!
It intrigued him to think that a grown woman and a teacher, an aunt with the power to take down his pants and paddle his bare bottom, could have her own pants taken down and her bare bottom spanked. Of course, this was just fantasy, but it was fun to imagine!
Yet that whole weekend Charlie kept noticing things that gave credence to this concept. He saw that Uncle Henry frequently reprimanded his wife. Sometimes it was teasing, telling her she'd put too much salt on his egg or burned the toast, but other times it was more serious. Like on Saturday when he couldn't find his favorite golf shirt, he was irritated that Grace hadn't washed it as she'd promised.
"Put yourself down for a mark," he said sternly, and Charlie wondered what that meant. It sounded almost like the demerits the nuns at school handed out, except that Aunt Grace wasn't a student and Uncle Henry wasn't a teacher.
Aunt Grace certainly reacted as though she was due punishment. She gave a tiny gasp, flushed pink, and chewed her lower lip worriedly. She didn't look at Charlie, but a few minutes later he saw her writing on a calendar in the kitchen. He studied it after she'd gone to the bathroom and saw it was covered with little black marks. Every day or two there'd be one or more marks.
The most interesting thing was that Sundays there was a number in a circle, like six or nine. Math was tedious, but Charlie was good at counting, and he soon figured out that the circled number always matched the number of marks for the previous week. He didn't know what any of it meant, except it was similar to school, where if you got five demerits in a week you were sent to the principal for a paddling. That had never happened to Charlie, but he was terrified of the large wooden board he'd seen in the principal's office. Was Aunt Grace in for a paddling?
Naturally, this prospect made Sunday an intriguing day for Charlie. He kept his eyes and ears open, alert for any more information on this exciting topic.
He had to be careful, for Sundays were notoriously dangerous. He wasn't sure if his aunt was as strict as his mother, but he didn't want to take any chances. The slightest wrong step, scuff on his shoes, an untucked shirt, a forgotten Bible, or an impertinent word, might earn him a trip across Aunt Grace's lap. He didn't want that.
Or did he? Strangely, he wasn't sure. The thought of his aunt spanking him made him sweat and babble nervously, but that was more because of the foreignness of the experience. A part of him thought that since Aunt Grace was always so chipper and happy, perhaps she'd make a spanking fun. He had no idea how that could work, but if anyone could, it would be her.
Fortunately, he got through church without incident, though there were a few close calls, like when he nodded off during the sermon. At home that would have been a guaranteed appointment with the hairbrush, but Aunt Grace just nudged him and gave him a winking grin.
They went out to a restaurant for Sunday dinner, a treat for Charlie, who got the chicken fingers and ice cream for dessert. There was even a cherry on top, and gobs of whipped cream and hot fudge. He got some on his white shirt, which made Aunt Grace cross, but then she'd left her purse unattended while using the restroom and Uncle Henry had lectured her on that, so it seemed like they were both in the doghouse.
That afternoon Aunt Grace suggested he take a nap. Charlie didn't want a nap, but he didn't want to disobey Aunt Grace, and the suggestion felt strangely like a command, so he obeyed. He'd just gotten himself settled when he realized he was thirsty
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