Auntie Margaret's Hangover Cure free porn video

I had been living at Auntie Margaret’s house for nearly a year before I really fell foul of her strict rules. Living in her impressive house had only been intended to be a short-term thing for me. I wanted to find my own flat in town but, due to the high rents and the fact that I got on so well with Melanie and her friends, I had stopped looking for my own place to live. My mother’s friend never mentioned me moving out either. She liked the idea of having people in her house, seeing as her husband worked abroad and never came home for months on end.

Although I was still subject to my monthly discipline sessions from Bethany, I soon grew to accept them and, to be fair, they hadn’t been too severe. I had managed to avoid doing anything so serious that I would get an additional punishment from Auntie Margaret and then extra punishment from Bethany. Melanie, on the other hand, had taken at least two prolonged punishments from her disciplinarian, Jade. I sometimes thought that she enjoyed being punished and that was why she openly answered back to Auntie Margaret, arrived home late or refused to do her share of the household chores.

I had done so well to avoid extra punishment, but that was all about to change.

It was early April and I was at work, watching the local ice hockey team in their playoff game. As I was busily writing my report on the match for my paper my mobile phone beeped loudly and, although I wanted to ignore it, on seeing that the message was from Bethany, I picked it up immediately. I still hadn’t given up on the dream of the lovely twenty-two-year-old becoming my girlfriend, despite her spanking and caning my bottom every month. I smiled as I read her message.

“We’re all at the Beer Keller in town for Stacey’s birthday. Wondering if you wanted to join us after you finish work? Bethany xx”

The two kisses made me smile. Maybe I did have a chance of Bethany becoming my girlfriend, despite Melanie’s insistence that she wasn’t interested in me at all. I went back to watching the game for a few moments before returning my attention to my phone and replying to Bethany’s text.

“Won’t be finished until after 10pm. Who else is there? I have been a good boy this week since Sunday xx”

I sent the message and then cringed at what I had written. It had only been a week since my last Sunday discipline session with the lovely Bethany. I usually was well behaved in that first week after a punishment from her. It was only in the remaining weeks of the month that Auntie Margaret would start noting down the minor things I had done to displease her. I went back to watching the game, which was nearing its conclusion when Bethany’s reply came.

“Everyone. Melanie is here and wants you to walk her home rather than having to get a cab. We’ll be here until late. Glad you’ve been good – means that I don’t have to put you over my knee in front of everyone here doesn’t it!”

Despite her initial reluctance to become my disciplinarian, Bethany Coleman had soon taken to the role with enthusiasm. Although she looked so sweet and innocent with her long brown hair and stylish glasses, she had soon learned how to hand spank me extremely hard and to show no mercy to me during a punishment no matter how much I pleaded with her or sobbed and cried. It only attracted me to her even more. I smiled as I replied to her.

“Okay. Just need to check my report and email it. Then drop my things off at the office. Should be with you by about 10.30pm. Get me a beer ready Miss Coleman.”

Bethany’s reply came almost instantly.

“Ha ha! That’s going in your Auntie’s punishment book for the end of the month. Going to look forward to this month’s session so much!”

I smiled. Hopefully, Bethany was joking. Even if she wasn’t, I didn’t mind. I had come to quite enjoy being hand spanked over her knee and even didn’t mind a hard dose of the hairbrush and the cane too much either.

Once the game was over and the local ice arena went quiet as the thousands of spectators left, I quickly completed my report, checked it through carefully and emailed it to the sports editor at my newspaper. I packed my laptop away, gathered up my things and hurried down the steps, through the foyer of the arena and out of the doors. It was cold outside and so I hurried to the office which was a ten-minute walk. I wasted no time in hurrying inside the office, up the stairs to my office where I placed my laptop and bag under my desk. I didn’t check if I had any messages or if I had appointments and simply turned and headed straight back into the cold evening.

The Beer Keller was a huge, German-themed pub in the centre of town. It was fitted out with just one long bar area and rows of long benches. It was packed out most nights but especially on weekends. Being a Friday night, it was crammed with people having a good time and it took me a few moments to adjust from coming in off the cold street outside into the heat of the bar. Once I had sorted myself out I began looking for Bethany and soon found her, sitting with the others, on a bench near the bar. Melanie noticed me too and got to her feet. She had obviously been there all night and had been trying to drink as much as she could. She threw her arms around my neck and smiled.

“I’ll get you a drink, you gorgeous man!” she shouted over the noise in the bar and disappeared, joining the queue for a drink.

In a few moments, Melanie returned holding a couple of large, German-style beer steins and handed one over to me. I thanked her, and she went and sat back down next to Jade Coleman, who was chatting to Aria and Laura. I went and squeezed in between Bethany and Stacey and took a long, satisfying pull on my beer.

We all remained in the bar until after two in the morning. I had drunk quickly to catch up to the girls but also because I really was in a drinking mood. The beer was always good in the Beer Keller and seemed to slip down so easily. Once we had decided to go home, Melanie and I saw the others to taxis before giving up on walking and getting in one ourselves. It was only a short walk to Auntie Margaret’s house, but it was a cold night and Melanie was only wearing a thin, red satin dress that was extremely short.

Once we had arrived home, I paid the taxi driver and followed Melanie through the front door, locking it behind me. She walked into the living room and over to the cupboard, where Auntie Margaret kept her canes and hairbrushes. It was also where Margaret and her husband kept their bottles of wine and spirits. I shook my head as Melanie pulled out a full bottle of vodka and two glasses, which she brought over and placed on the coffee table. I sat down and laughed.

“Haven’t you had enough?” I asked her

Melanie sat down on the sofa and struggled to unscrew the cap on the bottle. She laughed loudly as it finally clicked, and she removed it.

“No way. I want to get really pissed!” she said far too loudly.

“Shut up, Mel – Margaret will hear, and she’ll have us both over her knee,” I said in a panic.

Melanie Pearson poured two very large vodkas into the glasses in front of her and placed the bottle on the table. She took a large gulp of the clear liquid and winced as it burned its way down her throat.

“She’s staying at her friend Lisa’s tonight and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.” She took another mouthful of vodka and drained her glass.

“Uncle Andrew is home but once he’s asleep a nuclear explosion wouldn’t wake him. You can hear him snoring upstairs right now.” She laughed as she reached for the bottle again and refilled her glass.

I picked up my glass and drank slowly. I had already had more alcohol than I usually drank that night and knew it would give me a seriously bad headache the next day.

“I’ve got work tomorrow, Mel!” I tried to explain.

“Don’t sweat it. Just phone in sick – they’ll never know!” She smiled and drained the glass once more.

We continued drinking until about 3.30am until there was just a little left in the vodka bottle. I remembered to set the alarm on my phone for 7.30am and then I would call in sick and go back to sleep. I went up to my bedroom, took off my clothes, which I left in a mess on the floor before crawling under the bedclothes and falling into an unconscious, drunken sleep. Melanie Pearson noisily made her way up to her bedroom, slamming her bedroom door behind her before she collapsed onto her bed.

At 7.30am my alarm went off loudly and after the initial shock of being abruptly awoken, I turned it off before calling work. Like Melanie had predicted, it was very easily done. I spoke to the weekend receptionist, Liz, who simply said that she would pass my message on and wished me a speedy recovery. I failed to realise that this would have been difficult had Melanie’s friend Rebecca been working on reception as she would know exactly why I was unable to work that day. Thankfully, Rebecca had been with us in the bar and was probably sleeping off the effects. I threw my mobile phone on the floor, turned over and was soon asleep once more.

Neither Melanie or I heard Aunt Margaret arrive home shortly before midday. It did not take her long to discover what we had been up to that previous evening as, on entering the living room, she saw the almost empty bottle of vodka and the glasses which we had forgotten to tidy away. She sighed heavily and decided to tidy up before confronting both of us. Once she had cleared the glasses away and replaced the bottle in the cupboard, she went to her bedroom. As she expected, her husband Andrew wasn’t there as he was meeting friends to play golf that day and wouldn’t be back until later that evening.

Margaret Donnelly took a deep breath and stood outside her niece Melanie’s bedroom. She turned the door handle slowly, opening the door quietly, peering around it to find Melanie Pearson slumped unconscious, fully clothed, face down on her double bed. She walked over to the girl and sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking her long red hair gently.

“Get up, Melanie,” she said sternly and waited as her niece slowly came around, not really knowing what was going on.

“W-what?" Melanie Pearson struggled to realise what was going on.

“Time to get up, young lady. Have you been drinking?” Margaret Donnelly asked, already knowing the answer.

Melanie knew she would be in serious trouble with her auntie. Margaret did not like her drinking heavily at home and she knew that she was in such a state that it was obvious what she had been up to.

“No, Auntie,” Melanie Pearson lied.

“I feel sick. I had a headache last night and must have just collapsed.” She looked away from the older woman.

“Sick?” Why didn’t you call me?” Ms. Donnelly got up from the bed and walked to the door.

“Didn’t want to spoil your night out, Auntie,” Melanie said, exhaling loudly and closing her eyes.

“Very well.” Margaret Donnelly opened the door and left the room, walking the short distance along the landing to my bedroom.

Again, she opened the door slowly and peered inside the room, finding me under the bedclothes. She walked into the room until she was standing over me and pulled the covers back. The shock made me wake and I swallowed hard as I eventually realised who had woken me.

“Aren’t you working today, young man?” Margaret snapped.

I exhaled heavily and sat up in bed, trying to think of an excuse.

“I feel sick, Auntie. Think I’ve eaten something that disagreed with me at work last night.” I tried to put on my best sick look.

“Really?” Margaret sat on the edge of my bed and began playing with her long, brown hair.

“That’s a coincidence, seeing as Melanie is unwell too,” she said softly.

Ms. Donnelly reached across and placed her cool hand on my forehead. I was sweating but this was due to the vast amount of alcohol I’d had the previous night rather than having a fever. She removed her hand and got to her feet.

“I’ll go and fetch you a drink and some paracetamol.” Margaret turned and left the room and I heard her walking down the stairs.

I smiled as I lay in my bed. Melanie was clever and could play Auntie Margaret well. She had said that I would get away with phoning in sick which had been so easy. She had also said that pretending to be sick to hide our hangovers would be the best tactic.

Five minutes later, Auntie Margaret returned and handed me two tablets and a glass of water which I emptied in one go. She then went next door and gave Melanie some tablets too. Through the wall, I could hear Margaret Donnelly talking to Melanie.

“I’m going to call Dr. Kaminsky and see if she can come over and take a look at both of you.”

“No, Auntie, it’s okay. I think I just need to sleep it off. I don’t need a doctor,” Melanie said.

“I’m just going to make sure, seeing as both of you seem to have the same thing wrong with you. Maybe it's something going around and I don’t want to catch it,” Ms. Donnelly replied.

With that, I heard her close Melanie’s bedroom door and walk downstairs. I buried my head in my pillows and thought about this. The family doctor, Dr. Hannah Kaminsky, was one of Auntie Margaret’s best friends and they had known one another since they had been at school. Thirty-nine-year-old Hannah had even stayed with Margaret after her divorce six years ago and had been like a second mother to Melanie, even spanking her in her auntie’s absence. She had a daughter, Jessica, who was younger than Melanie, but the girls were good friends after staying in the house together. She would be sure to discover that our “sickness” was just a hangover and then we really would be in for it. I could hear Auntie Margaret talking to her friend on the phone in the living room below my bedroom.

“Hi, Hannah. It’s Margaret. I wonder if you would come over and look at Melanie and Peter,” Margaret said.

“They’re both sick – with a temperature and headaches,” she continued.

“That’s great. I’ll see you soon. Thanks, Hannah.” Margaret Donnelly finished the call and placed her mobile on the coffee table.

Half an hour later, I heard a car driving down our gravel driveway. Dr. Hannah Kaminsky had arrived. We would both be in serious trouble once she diagnosed our “sickness” as a hangover. The doorbell chimed loudly and shortly afterwards I could hear the two ladies chatting in the hallway. It seemed like an age before they made their way upstairs and stood outside my bedroom. As my room was closer to the stairs it would be me who got examined and got found out first. I shook my head as my bedroom door opened and Auntie Margaret entered, followed by Hannah Kaminsky, who carried her doctor’s bag in her right hand.

“Right, Peter. Hannah is going to have a look at you, so sit up,” Auntie Margaret smiled.

I watched Hannah carefully as she laid her black case on the bottom of my bed and opened the two locks with a loud “click!” She stared at me as she removed a small thermometer, her stethoscope, and sphygmomanometer to measure my blood pressure. Dr. Kaminsky moved around to the right-hand side of my bed and bent down, placing her left hand on my forehead.

“He does have a temperature, Margaret,” she said softly.

I now understood why Melanie liked our family doctor. She was very attractive. Hannah was thirty-nine years old, had shoulder-length brown hair, piercing green eyes, was very slim and stood at about five feet four inches tall. She was very softly spoken, but both Melanie and I knew that she regularly spanked her own daughter Jessica if she misbehaved or displeased her mother in any way. I shuffled around under the sheets as I realised that I was getting an erection as the doctor sat down on my bed. She was wearing a short black skirt and black long-sleeved satin blouse of which, she had the top two buttons undone. I tried to ignore the urge to look at her perfectly formed breasts which stood out proudly under her blouse.

“I’m just going to take your temperature, Peter. Lie on your stomach for me, please.” She smiled as she saw the confused look on my face.

“Why? Can’t you just put it in my mouth?” I asked.

She smiled but was cut off immediately by my Auntie Margaret who stepped into view from behind Hannah.

“Do as you are told, young man, or I’ll cane you right here, right now!” she snapped.

Hannah got to her feet as I pushed the sheets off me and laid on my stomach, my bare bottom sticking proudly in the air.

“It gives me a better idea of your temperature to put it in your bottom, dear,” she said gently as she slowly pushed the thin glass-covered thermometer into my bottom, the cold glass making me wince as she pushed it in as far as she wanted.

After a couple of minutes, she removed the thermometer and shook it in her right hand before looking at what it showed.

“His temperature is up slightly but it's nothing extreme.” She placed it on my bedside table and bent over my bed for her stethoscope.

“Lie on your back for me while I listen to your chest, lovely.” Hannah placed the instrument in her ears and held the other end out to me as I did as instructed.

She placed the cold metal end of her stethoscope on my chest and listened. I remained silent, listening to Dr. Kaminsky’s quiet breathing.

“Breathe in,” she instructed

“Breathe out,” she continued.

Auntie Margaret did not take her eyes off me during this time, remaining silent with her arms folded across her chest. The doctor then took my right arm and wrapped her sphygmomanometer around it, securing it tightly with the Velcro fastening. She pumped it up until she was satisfied and nodded once she had taken the reading. She undid the Velcro and placed it back on my bed.

“His breathing and blood pressure are normal, so I don’t think there is anything to worry about Margaret.” Hannah looked down at me and saw that my penis had gone hard. She smiled.

“So, what do you think it is, Hannah?” Margaret Donnelly uncrossed her arms and watched as the doctor gathered up her things and walked to my door.

“Oh, most likely a hangover, but I’m sure we have some medicine for that, don’t we?” Hannah Kaminsky laughed and walked out onto the landing.

Margaret shook her head at me and inhaled deeply. She was absolutely fuming at what we had done that previous evening, and Melanie and I were going to pay for our behaviour. She walked to the door and turned back to look at me lying on my bed, covered by my bed sheets.

“Get yourself up and go and stand in the corner of the living room. No clothes. You know what is coming your way, you naughty boy,” she said quietly before leaving my bedroom.

I lay there for a few moments, hearing the ladies entering Melanie’s room next door. I could hear them talking to her but finally got up from my bed and slowly made my way downstairs and into the living room. I walked over to the far corner of the room and placed my nose against the wall, placing my hands on my head. I could hear a muffled conversation coming from Melanie’s bedroom upstairs but a short while later heard the ladies come downstairs. I could see that Melanie was also with them, catching her out of the corner of my eye taking up her position in the corner of the room.

Margaret Donnelly walked over to the cupboard and opened it, reaching inside for her clothes brushes and canes. She removed them and closed the cabinet quietly, walking back to where Hannah Kaminsky stood. Out of our sight, she handed one of the clothes brushes to her and placed the canes on the coffee table.

“Well, Hannah. I think we can treat this illness with a good dose of corporal punishment, can’t we?” Margaret laughed.

“Oh, definitely. It should relieve the symptoms.” She tapped the ebony-backed hairbrush loudly against the palm of her right hand.

Melanie and I remained as still as we could and awaited our punishment. Margaret and Hannah sat down and waited for a few moments, not saying a word. Eventually, it was Ms. Donnelly who spoke.

“Right, you two. Turn around and come and stand in front of us,” she said sternly.

Melanie and I obeyed immediately and quickly made our way to where the ladies sat. Auntie Margaret was on the single leather chair and Hannah sat on the leather sofa opposite. Our auntie ironed the creases from her long, pleated light blue skirt and stared at us.

“Right, Melanie, you will bend over Hannah’s lap and be spanked by her.” She smiled as she looked at me.

“You, young man, will come and bend over my lap for your spanking.”

I had hoped to be punished by Hannah Kaminsky but sighed heavily as I saw Melanie walk over to her. I quickly walked the short distance to where my auntie was seated and lowered myself over her knee, placing my hands on the arm of the chair and burying my head in my arms. She placed her large left hand on my lower back and pushed me into her knees. Her right hand was placed on my bottom and she rubbed my cold bottom gently.

Melanie smiled at Hannah, who leaned back on the sofa, raising her hands and inviting the young lady to lie over her lap. She carefully lay over Hannah’s knees and deliberately pushed herself into Dr. Kaminsky’s knees. The older lady moved around until she was comfortable with the girl over her lap and pulled the sleeves of her black satin blouse up before taking her left hand to force Melanie Pearson’s legs apart. She smiled as she saw the small clump of pubic hair between the girl’s legs and began to stroke the inside of her thighs gently.

The younger woman moaned quietly with pleasure as she felt her juices starting to flow. Hannah Kaminsky continued to stroke the backs of Melanie’s legs, the backs of her thighs and between her legs before taking a deep breath. She raised her small right hand in the air and a second later brought it down so that it landed with a loud “smack!” across the centre of the bottom lying before her.

Hannah was extremely experienced in administering corporal punishment, having to discipline her own daughter, Jessica, on a regular basis and slapped Melanie’s bare bottom hard, alternating between her left and right buttock. As I lay over Auntie Margaret’s lap I looked over at them and heard the repeated loud “smack” as Hannah Kaminsky’s hard right hand connected with Melanie’s bottom. I soon began to ignore this as Auntie Margaret brought her own right hand down on my exposed buttocks, intending to teach me a proper lesson this time.

Unlike that first afternoon in her house, where she had given me a short demonstration of what a spanking would be like from her, Margaret Donnelly intended to spank me a lot harder to show me how displeased she was with my behaviour. She said nothing as she brought her hand down at regular intervals, slapping each buttock, then the creases in between buttock and thigh and then most painfully, slapping me extremely hard across the backs of my legs. I tried to escape this by wriggling around on her lap, but she simply held me down with her free left hand and pushed me further into her blue pleated skirt which covered her knees.

Directly opposite from where I was struggling to take an angry spanking from my auntie, Hannah Kaminsky was administering an equally painful and thorough spanking to Melanie’s bottom, which had quickly turned pink and warm. Dr. Kaminsky probably didn’t spank as hard as Auntie Margaret could but expertly covered every inch of Melanie Pearson’s bottom until it was warm and sore. The young lady buried her head deeper in the cushion on the sofa as Hannah slapped her hard and slow and then rapidly for a minute where she tried to smack every part of the bottom lying defenceless in front of her.

Eventually, Margaret Donnelly stopped spanking me and placed her warm right hand on my burning buttocks. She leaned across to the coffee table and picked up her ebony-backed clothes brush, which she ran across my naked back and down to my buttocks. Hannah Kaminsky stopped spanking Melanie too and picked up the other clothes brush from the coffee table. She laid it on Melanie’s back and used her left hand to brush the younger lady’s red hair back.

Melanie turned around and looked at her disciplinarian. She had not begun to cry yet and judging by the heat emanating from her resting over the older lady’s lap, was turned on by the punishment. Soon, the silence was broken by the first loud “thud!” as Auntie Margaret brought her clothes brush down hard across the centre of my already reddened bottom. Dr. Kaminsky smiled as she picked up her brush and began smacking Melanie.

Whereas Melanie Pearson had taken and enjoyed the hand spanking with no fuss whatsoever, that first smack with the clothes brush made her jump and she tried to get away from it. Hannah pushed her back down into her lap and rapped out another quick-fire half a dozen strokes, smiling as the younger girl grasped the cushion tighter and buried her head into it. Both Auntie Margaret and Hannah Kaminsky continued to spank with their clothes brushes until the bottoms in front of them were a deep red colour and they could hear our sobs and sniffles. Hannah paused first and rubbed Melanie’s bottom and the backs of her legs, watching as Margaret concluded that part of my punishment with half a dozen swipes with her nasty wooden brush on the backs of my legs.

Both ladies looked across at one another and smiled as they dropped their clothes brushes on the coffee table in front of them. They both exhaled deeply and began massaging the sore bottoms that were still draped over their knees.

“I think they are nearly cured, Hannah?” Auntie Margaret laughed as she stroked my head.

Hannah ran her hands over Melanie’s bottom and stroked between her legs. The girl was very wet and obviously aroused by her punishment.

“I most definitely think they are well on the way to recovery,” she smiled.

The ladies continued to soothe our sore bottoms, so much so that I had an erection and could feel it prodding against my auntie’s thighs. She said nothing as she continued stroking my red-hot bottom.

“I think one final treatment should help them, don’t you, Hannah?” Margaret stopped rubbing my bottom and ran her right hand through her shoulder-length dark hair.

Hannah laughed as Melanie began to let out a satisfied moan.

“I think that a course of thirty-six strokes of the cane will cure them of the urge to drink, Margaret.” She adjusted her black satin blouse with her left hand and smiled at her friend.

“Right, you two – Up!” Margaret raised her voice and watched as we both struggled to get to our feet.

Melanie and I looked over at one another and instinctively began to rub our hot and sore bottoms. Margaret and Hannah got to their feet and looked at us.

“Bend over the chair, Peter,” she indicated with her right hand.

“And you, young lady, over the sofa!”

We obeyed as quickly as we could, and I placed my hands on the floor, placing my hips over the soft arm of the chair. Opposite from me, Melanie laid herself over the arm of the sofa and buried her head in the cushions. She had never been caned by Hannah before, but knew from Jessica, Hannah Kaminsky’s daughter, that the older lady knew exactly how to use a cane.

Margaret Donnelly and Hannah Kaminsky picked up the canes from the coffee table and took up their positions behind both Melanie and me. I had never been caned by Auntie Margaret before but shuddered as I heard her swish the cane through the air a couple of times for effect. She then touched my bottom with the thick rattan cane and began tapping my bottom gently with it until she was satisfied where her first stroke would land. She drew it back, above her head, inhaled deeply and a second later, brought it whistling through the air until it landed painfully across the centre of my bottom with a loud “thwack!”

I yelled out but could hear that close by, Hannah had also landed her first stroke on Melanie’s bottom. Neither my Auntie Margaret nor Hannah Kaminsky said a word as they concentrated on landing their thirty-six strokes on our already red and sore bottoms to conclude our punishment. The whole process took a good twenty minutes as both ladies paused between strokes to inspect the bottoms in front of them and to decide where they should land their next stroke. I could hear Melanie sobbing, but I did try to take my punishment without making too much fuss in an act of defiance towards Auntie Margaret.

After the final stroke had hit home, Margaret and Hannah placed their canes on the coffee table and spent a few moments touching and rubbing our very sore and red bottoms. They said nothing, concentrating instead on soothing the glowing buttocks in front of them. Both Melanie and I continued lying face down across the chair and the sofa, not daring to move until instructed to do so.

“I’ve got some special cream we can put on here to cool the sensation,” Hannah announced as she walked out into the hallway.

She returned a few moments later and squirted the cream into the palm of her right hand before handing the tube to Margaret, who did the same. The ladies then spent a few minutes massaging the cold cream into our sore and warm bottoms, which was a lovely sensation. I could hear Melanie moaning quietly with pleasure as Hannah Kaminsky’s hands touched every part of her bottom and her thighs and I also enjoyed the feeling as Margaret Donnelly rubbed the cream into my bottom and backs of legs. I had an erection, but my auntie ignored it.

Once the two ladies were satisfied they went and washed their hands before returning to the living room, where Melanie and I were still lying over the chair and sofa.

“Right. You will be punished by Jade and Bethany for breaking my rules and for lying to me when you have your next discipline session at the end of the month.” Auntie Margaret smiled at Hannah.

“You will now stand up and go to bed until I come and get you. There will be no supper for you tonight either.” Margaret watched as we both got to our feet awkwardly and first, looked at each other and then at our auntie and the doctor.

“Off you go.” Auntie Margaret indicated with her left hand towards the stairs and we slowly walked out of the living room and made our way up the stairs and to our bedrooms.

Hannah Kaminsky stayed for a while, having a coffee and discussing our punishment and how she disciplined her own daughter Jessica. Margaret Donnelly thanked her for coming over and told her about the punishment she had in store for Andrew, her husband, when he returned from playing golf, later that evening. After all, he should have told her about what Melanie and I had been doing and had made sure that we didn’t have free access to the drinks cabinet. He was going to be in for it when he arrived home that evening.

At about 6 pm that evening, Andrew Donnelly arrived home. As he pulled his Mercedes into the gravel driveway, the front door to the house opened and his wife, Margaret, stood, watching him. She had her arms folded across her chest and looked angry.

“Shit. What now?” he thought to himself as he switched off the engine, opened the door and got out of his car.

He smiled at her as he walked around to the back of his car and opened the boot, taking his golf clubs out before closing it and locking the car.

“Hi. Have a good night? How was Lisa?” he asked, struggling with his golf bag, which he placed inside the hallway, and closed the front door behind him.

Margaret had already disappeared into the living room and was standing, waiting for him when he finally made his way there. She stood with her hands on her hips and when he looked down he could see that the rattan cane was lying on the coffee table in front of him.

“Oh, I had a lovely time,” Margaret said quietly as she walked over to the cabinet where she brought out the near-empty vodka bottle, holding it so that her husband could see it.

“I don’t want a drink, dear,” he smiled.

“Oh, is that because you drank it last night?” She continued to speak quietly, placing the bottle on the coffee table before sitting on the sofa.

“I didn’t touch a drop last night. Got home later than I planned and knew I had an early start today so went straight to bed.” He sat on the leather armchair opposite from where his wife sat.

“So, did you see the mess before you left this morning?” Margaret Donnelly leaned forward on the sofa.

“I did but reckoned that Melanie and Peter would clean up before you got home.” Andrew Donnelly could see where this was leading and sat back in the comfortable leather chair.

“Well, they didn’t, and have been in bed all day with hangovers. I’ve had to get Hannah over to check on them.” She stood up and picked up the cane in her right hand.

“God. Are they okay?” her husband asked with genuine concern in his voice.

Margaret smiled and stared at him, running her fingers up and down the cane.

“They’re hungover but they have been punished for their behaviour and that’s it as far as I’m concerned, for now. I’m sure that Jade and Bethany with give them a further reminder about their behaviour at the end of the month too.” She smiled and walked over to where her husband was sitting.

“You could have told me what they had done, but you think more about going and playing bloody golf with your friends.” She stared at him, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

“I didn’t realise that they’d drank all of that, Margaret. I was running late and just didn’t notice.” He ran his hair through his blonde hair.

“I’m sorry. I’ll have a word with them about it, if you like.” He took a deep breath.

Margaret Donnelly continued to stare at her husband.

“Don’t waste your time. I think a caning from Hannah and myself will have more impact.” She smiled and nodded at him.

“And that’s why you’re going to get caned too – to act as a reminder as to who is in charge in this house.”

Auntie Margaret moved back to the sofa and re-arranged the cushions before returning her attention to her husband, who knew exactly what was coming his way. They had been married fifteen years and he had been disciplined by her on a regular basis to ensure that he did exactly as she instructed.

“Get all your clothes off and lie over the sofa.” Margaret Donnelly watched as her husband got to his feet and sighed heavily.

“Not a word, or I’ll make sure that you get worse than what those two got this afternoon.”

Andrew Donnelly did not argue or say a word. He got to his feet and looked at his wife who tutted loudly at her husband’s reluctance to undress. Eventually, he removed his t-shirt and took off his shoes and socks. He continued staring at his wife as he undid his trousers and slipped out of them, folding them neatly and placing them on the armchair. Margaret continued to watch as he slowly removed his boxer shorts and placed them on top of his trousers on the chair. He had a large cock and it pointed proudly at his wife, who shook her head in disgust.

“Over the sofa and not another word.” She pointed with the cane and watched as her tall husband slowly placed himself face down on the sofa, hips over the arm of the leather sofa, bottom pointing in the air.

Margaret walked around to the left side of her husband and gave her rattan cane three practice swings. She smiled to herself as she heard her older husband exhale deeply. He had been caned many times before, but she knew that he really hated it. She began tapping the cane against his muscular bottom and took a deep breath.

“Thirty-six strokes and not a word. Any trouble and you’ll get more. Do you understand, you useless man?” She paused to check that her stance was correct and waited.

“Yes, Margaret. I’m sorry,” came the muffled reply.

My auntie took a deep breath and tapped the cane against the bottom lying helpless in front of her once more. She drew it back, raising it high in the air, and seconds later sent it swishing through the air before it landed with a loud, and painful, “thwack!” right across the centre of her husband’s bottom.

Andrew Donnelly grasped the cushion tighter and buried his face deep into it. He knew that if he made a fuss, shouted out or tried to move, then his no-nonsense wife would simply give him more strokes of the cane.

“Thwack!” The cane connected once more with the centre of his buttocks.

“Thwack!” The same spot in the centre of his bottom got kissed once more.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

Margaret Donnelly paused and ran her cool hands across the increasingly red and sore bottom lying over the arm of the sofa, at her mercy. She took a deep breath before resuming her position to her husband’s left-hand side. Within seconds, she had resumed her assault on his rapidly reddening bottom.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

The next six strokes were delivered a little lower down from the first set and had truly ignited the inferno now burning painfully in Andrew Donnelly’s bottom.

Again, Margaret paused and touched the red-hot bottom lying helplessly in front of her. She could see neat cane marks starting to appear and smiled. Her husband was breathing heavily and was sniffing and snivelling into the cushion which he held to his face for dear life. After a moment, she resumed her stance to his left-hand side and raised the cane above her head.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

The next batch left a lasting impression low down just above the buttock and thighs.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

The next set of strokes were delivered to the tops of her husband’s legs and she smiled as she watched him struggling to take them. She resisted the urge to rub the bottom and thighs lying there in front of her, opting instead to just wait until he had settled himself in anticipation of the final dozen strokes.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

Margaret whipped the strokes out quickly across the centre of the bottom and then paused for a second to re-gather her composure.

“Now. The last six will be given hard so that you remember to do as I tell you and to make sure that you pull your weight regarding Melanie and Peter. Is that clear?” She waited for a reply.

“Yes, Margaret. I’m sorry.” Her husband was snivelling and pushed his head back into the cushion, anticipating the pain from the last six strokes.

Ms. Donnelly adjusted her white top and took up her position once more, left foot about twelve inches in front of her right and her left hand on her left hip. She raised the cane in the air once more and in a second brought it whistling through the air once again.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

Margaret wasted no time in rapping out the final strokes and waited for a moment before replacing the cane on the coffee table. She smiled as she listened to her husband’s sobs and snivels and his heavy breathing. She bent down and ran her hands over his red and sore bottom. It had a series of neat cane marks across both buttocks and on the tops of his thighs. She debated whether to soothe him and soon found herself heading to the bathroom to fetch some cream, which she rubbed into his bottom and thighs for a while until he had calmed himself and was breathing normally.

“Now. Get up and look at me,” she commanded sternly and smiled as her husband struggled to his feet to face her.

“In the future, you will check on Melanie and Peter and tell me if they are doing things I do not like. Is that clear?” She stared at him.

“Yes, Margaret. I’m sorry.” Andrew Donnelly rubbed his red-hot bottom with his hands.

“Well. I’m so angry with you all today that you will go straight to bed and stay there until I come and get you. Is that clear?” she said quietly.

“Yes, Margaret.” He turned immediately and picked up his clothes before heading upstairs to their bedroom.

My Auntie Margaret spent the next hour cleaning her implements that had been used that day before replacing them in the cabinet. She poured herself a glass of white wine and smiled to herself. She reached for her handbag and brought out her notepad and pen. She found the pages that she was looking for and in her neat handwriting wrote the same entry on the first two pages.

“Drinking without permission. Thirty-six strokes of the cane.”

That was the beginning of the punishment that would be administered at the end of the month by our disciplinarians, Jade and Bethany. She snapped her notepad shut and returned the book and pen to her bag.