by Quentin Quillis
Hi, my name is Megan. I was working on my Masters degree and didn't have a lot of money so I readily accepted Aunt Eva and Uncle Fred's invitation to live with them. Their son Tommy, who's about six months older than I was doing his post-graduate study at another university and wasn't at home so it was just the three of us in the house. I should probably mention that Aunt Eva and Uncle Fred weren't actually related to me. They had been my folks' best friends for years until they moved away and we still considered them 'family'. As far as I was concerned they were my aunt and uncle and during my stay they were wonderful hosts. They let me come and go as I pleased and never asked questions other than when I expected to be home. I think I was a good boarder. I helped with the chores and fitted right into their family. They said they always wanted to have a daughter and, in some aspects, they spoiled me by buying clothes and other presents.
My academic program was fairly intense and I was glad I didn't have to work at a part time job so I could focus on my studies. I was pretty wild in my undergraduate days but now was the time to settle down so the last thing I needed was a steady boyfriend to distract me. However, as a normal heterosexual female I did enjoy male companionship from time to time but I limited my dates to about once a month and never with the same guy more than twice. Those dates invariably ended up in some young man's bed and Aunt Eva and Uncle Fred knew I wouldn't be home until the next morning. Like the rest of my out-of-house activities, they were noncommittal about my periodic sexual liaisons.
Sounds like the perfect arrangement doesn't it? Actually it was except for their unusual idiosyncrasies. And in retrospect, even they were. Never mind, I'll tell you how I felt about them later but suffice it to say that I was directly involved. I guess the best way to explain it is to tell you about the first of my ventures into their special world.
When I wasn't out screwing some young man I usually stayed home with Aunt Eva and Uncle Fred and we'd play cards or watch movies on TV. The Saturday evening I'm going to tell you about seemed quite normal until Aunt Eva asked if I would mind putting on some special clothes she had made for me. I should mention that she's a very good seamstress and had already made me some beautiful dresses. I eagerly agreed to wear whatever she had made. She led me upstairs and showed me her latest creation. It was not at all what I expected. It was a frilly dress such as a little girl would wear to a party. In fact, it was a larger version of one of my favorite outfits when I was much younger - even down to the fluffy petticoats I used to wear. It struck me as a bit weird but it seemed to mean something special to her so I thanked her and headed towards my room. Before I could leave she said, "Oh, and don't forget these. I'd like you to wear them also."
She was holding out equally frilly socks and patent leather pumps. They were the perfect addition to the dress but what struck me as odd was the underwear. I don't know if she'd bought them or made them but the panties were trimmed in lace and adorned with the cutest little cartoon characters. I had to laugh and said, "I can't wait to see the bra that goes with them."
Aunt Eva did not find my remark amusing and said, "The little girl who wears that dress would have no need for a bra." She sounded a bit more stern as she added, "Dinner will be in a little while and I expect to see you dressed in the clothes I just gave you and nothing else."
It was the first time that she'd spoken to me in such a voice and I started my journey back in time as I quietly answered, "Yes Ma'am."
My mood lightened after I looked at myself in a mirror. It was like dressing up for a costume party and she was right, a bra would've spoiled the line of the dress. I'm not overly endowed up there and while there was a barely noticeable swell above the waist, the smocking on the front of the dress hid any tell-tale signs that I had matured past puberty.
They greeted my arrival with smiles and gushed all over me. Actually, it was kind of fun. They asked how things were at school and I replied with all the eagerness of youth. I even clapped my hands when they said we would watch a G-rated movie on TV. Uncle Fred left the room and the two womenfolk (or in this case, one woman and one little girl) cleaned up after the meal. We chatted about this and that and were having a good time together, but I froze in my tracks when she asked if I remembered the time they had come to my real home for a visit. Specifically, the time when Tommy and I acted up in church.
I remembered that occasion all too well. Acting up was a good way to describe our actions. During the sermon we were poking and kicking each other and giggling uncontrollably. All the memories of that day came flooding back with Aunt Eva's seemingly innocuous question and I quietly answered in the affirmative.
She was putting something away and not looking at me as she spoke again. "What happened when we got back to your house?"
I was still unable to move and now I found it impossible to speak. What happened when we got home was what made that incident so memorable. As soon as we left the church I knew I was in trouble and more importantly, I also knew what to expect. Discipline in my house was applied with a firm hand, usually my father's, so I was no stranger to spanking and from the looks on my parents' faces I had no doubt I was about to be reacquainted with the practice. My only hope was that my folks would break with tradition and punish me in private. Their room or mine, it made no difference as long as it wasn't in the living room. No such luck. No sooner were our coats hung in the closet when I was escorted to the dining room to fetch one of the straight back chairs. (They felt that I had to prepare the site of my punishment as a small sign of contrition.) I was mildly surprised to see Tommy following behind with a second chair. It seems Aunt Eva and Uncle Fred had the same ideas regarding child rearing and especially when it came to the child's rear as a consequence of misbehavior. So I guessed my cousin was going to spend some time across someone's knee also.
When both fathers were seated and errant offspring placed across their laps the final preparations were completed. My dress and petticoat were raised and my panties lowered. The two chairs were facing each other and I could see that Tommy's slacks and underpants were bunched around his ankles so at least mine wasn't the only bare bottom in the room. Needless to say, that wasn't much consolation. Then the lectures began. Four adult voices took turns expressing their disappointment and disapproval with our behavior. I was mortified beyond belief. Not only because I was going to get spanked in front of company but I had to lie there with my bare bottom quivering in unenthusiastic anticipation and blatantly displayed for all to see. Well, maybe not all. My view of Tommy was limited and I assumed he didn't see much of me either. I know I wasn't particularly interested in his predicament as much as my own and I have to assume he was likewise more concerned about the upcoming post-lecture activities. Still, it was embarrassing to have Aunt Eva and Uncle Fred see me like that.
My humiliation only lasted a little while. In short order I didn't really care who was watching. All I wanted was for the spanking to stop. My father is a gentle man but one of his parental axioms was that if a punishment doesn't hurt it isn't punishment. He also felt that any job worth doing is worth doing well and those two adages added up to a very sore rear end. My very sore rear end. No amount of apologies or begging brought an end to it. Only when he was satisfied that I was truly sorry for my actions and sufficiently motivated to behave better in the future did he cease. And as with every spanking I ever got from him he made his traditional statement of the obvious. "There's a girl who's been well spanked and has a bright red bottom to prove it."
I hated that trite little phrase even though I longed to hear it every time his hand slapped down on my bottom.
Enough of my reminiscences and back to Aunt Eva. For the second time that evening I heard a sternness in her voice as she faced me and said, "I asked you a question. Are you going to answer me or not?"
I had a funny feeling where we were headed and was scared but I had to reply. I said, "Daddy gave me a long hard spanking and Uncle Fred did the same to Tommy."
In a vain attempt to divert her from her plan I tried to act nonchalant and added, "I guess we both deserved it and it sure taught me a lesson. I never acted up in church like that again."
Aunt Eva smiled. I had a momentary sense of relief which she quickly dashed. "Yes, that's the way I remember it too and I'm glad you benefited from it. I know Tommy did. The funny thing is that even though Fred and I have both had him over our laps on innumerable occasions we've always wondered if spanking a girl is any different from spanking a boy. Now that we have a temporary daughter we decided it was time to find out so we're going to re-enact that Sunday. Your Uncle Fred is waiting in the living room. Take the extra chair out to him. I'll join you soon but tell him not to wait for me. Go along now."
This is where I should laugh and say it was a good joke but it wasn't. She was serious. I wish I could say she was stern in her command so that's why I didn't question it. Instead she had the sweetest smile and it was more powerful than any angry order. I didn't get the feeling they expected this of me as payment for all they'd given me, it was just something that they decided they wanted to do and it never entered their minds that I would object. I don't think I had a deep seated desire to be spanked for no apparent reason but I couldn't disappoint her. I meekly replied as I had upstairs, "Yes, Ma'am."
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