by Mark Hall
Beth swung herself off the bus, feeling the doorway's smooth shiny pole in her hand as she thanked the driver, and smelling the fresh summer air blowing in her face. It had been a good day, and it was good to be back home. She looked affectionately towards Cooper's Avenue. It wasn't the most up-market of places, a small street on the outskirts of a small village, a double row of council-houses, but it was a nice enough place, in Beth's opinion. Beth wasn't the brightest. Nature had given bountifully towards her figure, but been less generous about her brains. But Beth was happy. She didn't have huge aspirations in life, and she was looking forward to going out with Jack to the Victoria later, after she'd done her dad's tea and they'd washed up.
Beth hitched up her bag in her hand, and smoothed down her skirt, which was a tight office skirt, and suited her. It emphasised her slim waist, her hips, and her bottom, which was of generous and curvy design. Beth had long ago decided to complement her hour-glass figure with firmly peroxide-bleached hair. What she lacked in subtlety, she made up for in straightforward hormone-hitting appeal, and she was a kind-hearted girl.
It hadn't always been so easy, Beth remembered, as she strolled along Cooper's Avenue (she lived with her father at the far end). There had been the time after she'd left school. First taste of adult freedom. She'd fallen into bad company, started to hang around in town rather than coming back. Her dad had been worried about her, though he hadn't known what to do, and at the time he'd had his hands full with her little brother, who'd since left home. It had been Mrs Henderson, Aunt Ruby, who'd fixed it. Aunt Ruby lived in the one house in the street that wasn't a council house. It had once been a farmhouse, and now stood a little back from the road, looking slightly embarrassed that it was different to its neighbours. The farm was gone, the farmyard lost under Cooper's Avenue, whose semi-detached houses had shuffled aside to make room for the older building. Its front garden was surrounded by a privet hedge, with a neat gate, which stopped the paper-boy from hopping from one garden to the next, like he did with the messier council-house gardens (including Beth's). Aunt Ruby was in her garden now, with her shears, trimming one of the bushes.
Beth had really gone off the rails. It was one evening that it had happened. She'd been going out, wearing her heels, and a really tight, short red dress. Beth was embarrassed now about that dress. She'd actually cut it up and thrown it in the bin, which was a waste, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything else with it. She'd been tottering along in the heels, off to find Pete and the boys, who were going to take her into town. Of course she had no intention of getting back until the small hours, and the chances were that several of the boys would want to do stuff with her, and one of them had said he'd pay if she did some special things for him, and frankly she could do with the money. Her dad had got her a job after she left the tech (predictably having failed everything), but she'd been sacked earlier that week because she was always late. Well what did that stuffy old boss expect? A girl had to have some fun, didn't she? Beth had already been drinking that evening, to get herself in the mood.
The Beth of today, walking towards home, and watching Aunt Ruby with her shears, felt very different; squirmingly, embarrassingly different to that Beth in the red dress. And it was Aunt Ruby who'd set her straight.
"You, girl!" Beth in her red dress had heard, as she staggered past.
"Yeah?" she'd replied, rudely.
"You and I need to talk."
"You might, I don't." And Beth had turned, to resume tottering along the avenue.
But in this, her heels had been a bad choice, because Mrs Henderson, Aunt Ruby, was much faster in her sensible flat shoes, and with her longer, stronger legs. Aunt Ruby didn't actually ride horses, but she was the sort of lady who looked as though she must have had a horsey youth. Maybe it came with living in an old farmhouse? She was on the tall side, with dark hair that she tied in a pony-tail. Back then she'd have been in her late thirties, now she was mid-forties, and still fit. Perhaps it came from living in an old farmhouse? Beth remembered Mrs Henderson had been wearing corduroy trousers and a big fuzzy pullover, and quite suddenly, tottering along, Beth had felt Mrs Henderson's hand on her shoulder.
"Get off me!" she'd said, rudely, loudly. Beth hardly knew Aunt Ruby, back then. She was just 'Mrs Henderson', the stuffy old bat from the farmhouse, who kept chickens and disapproved of the local youth.
"No, your father's worried sick. We need to talk."
"Don't want to!"
"I'm afraid we're past the point where you get the choice," Mrs Henderson had replied.
And with that, Beth had found herself being drawn, firmly, with no escape, back towards Mrs Henderson's house. She'd been in it many times since then, of course, but that was the first time, and Aunt Ruby hadn't given her long to appreciate her surroundings.
"I would talk, but I don't think you'll listen," Mrs Henderson had said, once they were in the kitchen.
"Too true," Beth had replied.
"So instead, we'll have to do it the hard way," Mrs Henderson had commented. "We can talk afterwards, when you're in the mood."
And Beth had seen Mrs Henderson stoop and pick up a flat sandal that was lying under the kitchen table. This had puzzled her, as she hadn't immediately guessed what it was for. Mrs Henderson turned round one of the kitchen chairs, its legs scraping on the quarry tile floor.
"You, young lady, need to learn responsibility," Mrs Henderson had commented. And then Beth found that Mrs Henderson, Aunt Ruby, had seized her by the arm, and pulled her, not roughly, but firmly, towards the chair. Aunt Ruby had sat herself down, her strong legs slightly apart, and drawn Beth to her right side, where Beth found herself bumped up against Aunt Ruby's thigh. And as Aunt Ruby continued to pull her sideways, Beth had overbalanced and found herself falling flat across Aunt Ruby's broad lap. It was at this stage that she'd guessed what might be about to happen.
"You can't spank me!" she'd said. "I've never been spanked!"
"Then it's about time you were," commented Aunt Ruby, dryly. "And for your information, yes, I can."
"I'm way too old," said Beth, scandalised. "And Dad wouldn't let you."
"Probably not, but I don't intend to ask him," replied Aunt Ruby. "And on the contrary, at your age you should know better than to behave like a second-rate slut, and I suspect you are going to find this more educational than the last two years that you've been wasting at tech."
Beth had expected that being spanked wouldn't exactly be fun. She'd seen the pictures in her brother's copy of the Beano. It was embarrassing. But what she hadn't expected was exactly how desperate it would feel. Aunt Ruby hadn't hung around. The first smack had landed almost immediately. Beth heard it before she felt it, but then a burning, sharp, unbearable pain broke out in her right bottom-cheek. Her bum was a lot bigger than the sandal, so it was only in part of her bottom, but it was a sharp, sharp sting, that penetrated to her core. You couldn't tough it out and pretend it wasn't happening. It hurt!
But by the time she'd thought all this, Aunt Ruby had landed a matching smack on the other side, which stung at least as much, and Beth found that she was squealing.
"Stings, doesn't it?" remarked Aunt Ruby, with some malice, Beth thought. And even through her little red dress and the tiny panties underneath, it did sting, a lot. The dress and panties didn't offer much protection. In fact the dress, tight around her bottom, more drew attention to the target than defended it. And Aunt Ruby, seeing the effect of her first two smacks, paused, rolled up her sleeve, and got to it, using her firm arms to smack the girl's bottom thoroughly. And Beth, held inescapably across Aunt Ruby's strong thighs, found she could go nowhere. She swam like a frog, kicking, squirming, as that horrible sandal slapped down on her hindquarters again and again, and she squealed, yelped and swore, and she hated that she had such a big bottom, because Beth was now realising that a big bottom just meant that there were more places for that sandal to visit, and each place it visited broke out into the same appalling, burning sting. And Aunt Ruby was so flipping strong, she'd never have imagined it. Beth struggled as hard as she could, but she just couldn't get free. The awful woman was a bitch. And it hurt.
"You are making your father miserable, the man who's given his life to bring you up, to look after you, who waited for you after school every day," Aunt Ruby commented. And with this, she smacked Beth's bottom harder, on the lower bit on which Beth sat, where it stung even worse, and Beth kicked and squealed.
"He had no money then. I even had to help him out once or twice, but he couldn't work more hours, because he was looking after you, you ungrateful brat," and Aunt Ruby gave her a series of faster, stinging smacks in the middle of each cheek, causing Beth to twist her ankles together and squeal like a banshee. She hadn't known that Aunt Ruby had been giving her dad some financial help. Her dad always looked so harassed, back then.
"And now, he finds you a job, and you lose it," scolded Aunt Ruby," because you can't even be bothered to get out of bed in the morning!" And with that, she concentrated on Beth's left buttock, spanking ever bit of it, hard, unforgiving, until Beth squirmed sideways, trying to get her arm round far enough to stop it. But all that happened was Aunt Ruby took her wrist and pulled it to her waist, holding Beth down.
"And you can't be bothered to get out of bed because you've been playing the cheap prostitute," she smacked her hard, on the other side, "being a little slut. It's time to stop!"
And Beth, held in place, desperate that this should stop, desperately in pain, squirming and yelping under the onslaught of this horrible, hard, unforgiving piece of leather-soled hell, was ashamed to realise that Aunt Ruby was telling the truth. She had been behaving like a prostitute, and not even a very good one. She realised she'd been intending to let the boys have their fun for a few drinks.
Beth wasn't a particularly fast thinker. It took her a while to think about this, and while she was thinking about it, she found that Aunt Ruby had taken hold of the hem of her dress, and was wriggling it up around her plump bottom.
"No, please," she found herself whining.
"No, dear, I'm sorry," Aunt Ruby had said, more softly, more gently. "I'm afraid we need to do this properly, if we're doing it."
And so Aunt Ruby had pulled the girl's dress up round her waist, exposing some of the smallest knickers that she'd ever seen on a bottom of that size, a bottom that was already well on its way to being as red as the dress. And Aunt Ruby had spanked her.
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