Aunt Vanna's Visit free porn video

AUNT VANNA'S VISIT by Throne Meryl had been increasingly frustrated with her husband Lane. He was irresponsible with money, ate too much snack food, watched too much TV, and generally irritated her. She had tried talking to him but he always justified his behavior with the argument that he was the man of the house. Not that he was very manly. Lane was short and slightly built, with smooth features and so little facial hair that he could go for days without shaving. Meryl was at her wit's end when she had a sudden inspiration. While Lane was growing up his parents had often left him with his Aunt Vanna. Sometimes for a weekend while they were busy. Other times for a week or two when they went on vacation. When he was eighteen there was even an entire summer, during which his mother and father lived in France. Meryl knew that after time with his aunt he was always better behaved. Maybe it would still work now. Lane's wife was desperate enough to try anything, so she had invited Vanna to come for a ten day visit, coinciding with Lane's vacation . Meryl dressed for company, in a fashionable loose blouse and stylish fitted slacks, along with slingback shoes with three inch, block heels. But she didn't tell her husband anything about the impending arrival. So when Aunt Vanna arrived on a Friday after dinnertime, Lane was surprised to say the least. He looked at his relative with a mix of awe and discomfort. She was middle-aged, tall and imposing, with an hourglass figure and a mature but attractive face. Vanna had on a skirt suit and her long auburn hair was pinned up under a pillbox hat with a net veil. Lane stood there in a T-shirt and sweatpants, his collar- length, pale blond hair uncombed, with a can of soda in one hand and a bag of cheese popcorn in the other. The aristocratic woman held him with her gaze, as if daring him to object to her presence. His shoulders slowly sagged in surrender. The guest told him, "My bags are in the trunk of the car, Laney. Be a good boy and go fetch them." She held out her keys. He hesitated only for a moment before setting his edibles on an end table, brushing his hands together, and hurrying to accept the key ring. As he rushed outside, the two women eyed each other. Without preamble, Vanna stated, "You said on the phone that you were willing to let me do anything to get your indolent selfish husband back in line. I assume you haven't changed your mind about that." Meryl immediately assured her, "Not at all. Whatever it takes for him to stop acting like the king of the house. Please, knock him off his throne." "Oh," Vanna said with a sly smile. "I won't just dethrone him. I'll put you in his place. And if you're open to being the queen of the house, and don't hold back, I know you'll enjoy it every day from now on." "That would be perfect," Meryl said. "But I don't know how you can change him without a lot of time and effort." "But dear," Vanna reminded her. "I had a lot of time and devoted a certain amount of effort to dealing with his annoying ways when he was growing up. And that entire summer when he was eighteen. I'm confident that his previous training will automatically go into effect once I've put him into the same frame of mind he was in back then. Please pay attention, so you'll be able to carry on my work when I leave." "Thank you, dear," Meryl said with sincere hope. "I can't wait." A moment later Lane reappeared, lugging two large suitcases. They were vintage style, with handles on top instead of wheels and a pull bar. His wife told Vanna she would be staying in the guest bedroom, and the older women imperiously told Lane to put the bags there. He came back and sheepishly asked the full figured woman, "Did you want me to bring in the... um... other bag. The plaid one?" "Most definitely." Vanna snapped her fingers. "And please don't dawdle, Laney." As he shooed him out the door, Meryl watched appreciatively. Once he was gone she said, "Whatever you have planned, he seems to sense it. And he isn't happy." "Not surprisingly. I'm sure you're curious but it will be easier to show you than explain it. I'll be taking him into my room for a talking to. And some, let's call it, dress-therapy attitude adjustment. I'm sure it will do the trick, Meryl." Lane returned, struggling with the weight and bulk of a huge suitcase. He had both hand on the handle and was straining to prevent it from dragging. Vanna gave him a critical look as he passed her and his expression made Meryl think of a scolded puppy. Vanna followed him into the room and closed the door. Meryl heard voices, first hers and then his, exchanging words several times. The aunt spoke levelly but with confident force. Her nephew started out uncertainly and grew more so each time, until his volume was barely above a whisper. After that the only voice belonged to Vanna. It continued to be level and firm, except for a few times when she spoke her nephew's name with special emphasis. She was doing what she had done since her arrival -- instead of Lane she was calling him Laney. Meryl told herself that maybe it was just a pet name. After ten minutes the wife took the liberty of opening a bottle of unoaked chardonnay. She set out three stemmed glasses but then thought again and returned one to the cabinet. Filling a single glass, she took a sip. Back in the living room she sat on the sofa and placed her drink on a coaster on the end table. After a total time of about twenty minutes, Vanna reappeared, calm and self- contained as before. Putting herself in the middle of the room she looked back down the hall. "Laney, dear," she called without raising her voice. "Come along, girl. There's someone here who wants to see you." Meryl took a sip of her wine and held onto the glass, just to have something to do with her hand. She was full of nervous anticipation. What had Vanna said to Lane? And why did she address him as 'girl'? As Meryl's husband entered the room, his wife gasped. Lane's hair had been gathered to the sides and put into two ponytails, held that way with yarn ties that had trailing ends. His face was lightly made up with touches of rouge on his cheeks and pink lipstick on his mouth. He was wearing a short sleeve, gingham blouse, the tails of which had been knotted in front, leaving his tummy bare, along with a very brief red skirt with a white plastic belt. On his feet he had yellow sandals with narrow straps. He stood there with a fixed stare, quivering slightly. "Laney," Vanna said and clapped her hands once. "Pay attention, girl. This is Miss Meryl. You will address her that way and not speak unless spoken to. Understood?" "Yes, Aunt Vanna." His wife couldn't miss how he was keeping his voice soft and high. Even though he was standing still his body language was subtly altered. Lane was resting his weight more on his left foot and had the right shoulder fractionally elevated. He had his head cocked the tiniest bit. His gaze shifted from blank to focused, first on Vanna, then Meryl, and finally back to Vanna, where it obediently stayed. "All right, Laney," the commanding woman said. "Time for a pantie check. Let's see them." Lane blushed. His wife couldn't keep from smirking. It was so gratifying to witness him humbled like this. He took the hem of his short skirt between thumbs and forefingers, to raise it high, completely exposing what was underneath. Meryl saw bright yellow, cotton panties. They weren't sexy, but the type a girl in her early teens might wear. Lane's genitals, not that impressive to begin with, must have been tucked down and back, held that way by some clever method. There was no visible bulge between his legs. Vanna raised her hand, pointed downward, and executed a tight circle with her forefinger. Lane understood and began to turn. He shuffled his feet with tiny movements, apparently something he had been previously taught to do. Moving that way made him appear even sillier than just being made to look like a girl. As he reached the halfway point he stopped and switched his hands around back to elevate the other side of his brief skirt. When he leaned forward and wagged is bottom, Meryl snickered. Lowering the garment, he continued his slow rotation until he was back in his starting position. Vanna went to him and said, "Now do your sissy inventory." His hands curled into fists and he pressed his upper arms against his sides. Then he extended his lower arms and knocked his knuckles together. Obviously Lane was distressed, but the way he expressed it made him appear juvenile and helpless. He took a breath, forced himself to lower his arms to his sides, hands now opened. As his wife took a sip of wine, he touched his hair and toyed with his ponytails. "My hair is so pretty." Then he held his face between his palms. "My face is so cute." He stroked his hands over his chest. "I love my goody-goody top." Lane patted his flat belly with both hands. "My tummy is pink and smooth." He took the sides of his skirt and held them out, swiveling his hips at the same time. "And my skirt is the best." Reaching under it, one hand in the front and the other in the rear, to rub his panties with small circular motions. "Plus, my panties are so soft. Yay!" Next he squatted so he could run his hands all over his legs, drawing attention to his natural lack of body hair. "My legs are just yummy." Finally, sinking lower, he plucked at the straps of his colorful sandals. "And my shoe-shoes are just..." His lips puckered as he strained to find the right word. "they're scrumptious. Double yay!" Vanna told him, "Very good, Sissy Laney. You didn't miss anything. Now what do you say to me?" For an instant it seemed like Lane was himself again. He opened and closed his mouth twice before he seemed to visibly swallow what might remain of his pride. Sounding slightly choked he said, with a strained smile, "Thank you Aunt Vanna. I'm always so happy when you make me so lovely." "You're welcome. Now sit like an obedient girl while we have some grown-up talk." He sat on the carpet, pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around them, and rested his chin on his knees. Vanna asked him, "Do you like my shoes?" He looked at the square-toed, black footwear, with its blocky two inch heels and said, "Yes, Ma'am. They're very nice." "And how about Miss Meryl's shoes?" "Miss Meryl's shoes are so pretty." He eyed the clean lines and shiny mint green surfaces, as well as the slim straps. "I like them a lot." "Would you like to wear a pair like that?" He hesitated, as if sensing he was being tested. His eyes widened and he declared, his voice wispy but excited, "I would, but they're too old for me. I mean, you know..." "Too mature for a girl like you?" "Yes. What you said. Thank you, Aunt Vanna." "You're welcome, dear." The older female looked at the young woman on the sofa. Meryl relaxed noticeably, as if she had been holding her breath. Clearly, Vanna had reasserted whatever control she had established over Lane in the past. Shaking off her fascination, Meryl offered, "Would you like some wine, Vanna? It's a delicious chardonnay." "That would be delightful." Meryl got up and headed for the kitchen, her own glass in hand. She needed to top it off after everything she had just seen and heard. Vanna told Lane to stay just as he was and then followed her hostess. In the kitchen Vanna asked, not loudly enough for Lane to hear, "What do you think?" "Amazing. You're a miracle worker." She gave a diminutive modest shrug. "So much of it is attitude. When your Laney was a boy, he was left with me partly because his parents were so busy, but also because he could be a handful. I started him off with slightly less-than-masculine clothes. Shirts that were a bit too bright. Pants that were a size too tight. The other boys noticed, although it was probably unconscious. Over time I graduated him to more and more effeminate looks." "And he accepted all that?" "Probably he wouldn't have, but at the same time I was replacing his aggravating boisterousness, his annoying bad attitudes, with something less aggressive. At every opportunity I criticized, corrected and, frankly, belittled. Of course it all had to be subtle. But as time passed he became more docile. So, with the two techniques, the fashion choices and the undermining of confidence, the physical and psychological, he gradually became putty in my hands. So, when he was given to me for a full summer, at age eighteen, he was ready for the next big step." "That was when you... introduced him to girly clothes?" "Exactly. And to the correct posture, gestures, speech, and even facial expressions. I already had him well conditioned to refer to me as Aunt Vanna. And, as you've seen, I'm able to extend the servile respect to others like yourself -- Miss Meryl." The wife grinned. "I particularly enjoyed that. But all your good work was lost after he married me." "Not all of it. During that long summer I kept him dressed constantly. He was in my home which is, as you know, rather expansive, the entire time. The lifestyle I imposed and that environment, along with the force of my personality, became his entire world for over three months. I was able to introduce so many ideas. The cumulative effect was stupendous. And as you've seen, it wasn't lost. Just submerged." "And now it has resurfaced. But I don't know if I can carry it on." "I'm confident that you can, dear. Since I got here I've been working on him, but simultaneously reading you. Not once have you been upset by what I'm doing, or let your excitement control you. Those are very good signs. We have until a week from this Sunday to cement his sissy personality, which will give you total control over him. So let's get busy and have a good time while we're doing it." A lot happened in the ensuing days. There were conversations out of Lane's hearing, while he was doing household chores. For instance, there was this exchange. "It's good to keep him off balance," Vanna advised. "How do you mean?" "For instance, give him regular spankings and then suddenly, without telling him why, just stop them." "And then?" "Well, first he'll be on edge, wondering why they ended, if they'll start again, when that might be, and if he can do anything to prevent it. A secondary benefit is that he'll try to avoid them by doing whatever he can to please you. Laney will overcompensate, do more than he needs to, and even attempt to anticipate your wishes. It can be amusing to watch." And there were tactics that got demonstrated. This one is interesting. Lane's hair was in a single ponytail, but it was at the top of his head, which was eye catching. He had on more make-up than usual, heavy on the eye shadow and mascara, with blazing red lipstick. His outfit included a hot pink belly shirt with a big pair of lips on the chest in silver, along with a shiny gold thong that made plain how small his genitals were, and black stockings. He had to step into a pair of gold shoes with high stiletto heels. The combined effect was to make him look slutty. He was already confused because normally they kept him looking like a teen girl. While he was still trying to puzzle out why they had changed his appearance, Vanna asked him a question. She announced, "I'm going to give you a hard spanking, Laney. Do you know what you did to deserve it?" He was immediately wary. What had he done wrong? He tried to think. She was waiting for an answer. Rather than remain silent and risk making her angry, he responded. "Was it... because I was too slow to obey before?" She raised one eyebrow. "Or because I kept fidgeting when you put on my make-up?" Vanna crossed her arms under her considerable bust. "And I kept making those whiny noises while you watched me get dressed. Was that it?" She had gotten him to blame himself for three different misbehaviors. Not that she had any of those in mind. Or anything else. She was simply playing with his head. And she made a mental note to tell Meryl another advantage of this technique, beyond upsetting him and making him feel guilty. Sometimes he might confess to something you could never be aware of otherwise, like impure thoughts, which you could use against him. "Really," his Aunt said, "you just need to think about those infractions... and any others you might have committed. Keep all that in mind while you're being given the spanking you brought on yourself." "Yes, Ma'am," he said contritely, though he was less sure then ever now about what he had done to deserve corporeal punishment. "To show you I can be reasonable," she went on, "I'm going to allow you to choose what I should use on your bottom, Laney. I brought my sorority paddle from home. You remember that, don't you?" Lane looked suddenly queasy. He gave a slight nod. "I remember." "Or I'm sure there are some appropriate implements in the kitchen. Like a nice spatula. Or a wooden kitchen spoon. Hmm?" His mind was racing. He said, "If I could just have a second." Vanna gave him a suggestion of a scowl. Lane was afraid a delay might make her lose her temper. Meryl said, assuming a helpful tone, "I have some wire hangers that I don't use anymore. Or those sturdy ones made of that plastic that are hard but you can still bend them a little. There are even some wooden ones in the laundry room." With both of them watching him, his wife now holding out her hands, palms up, to let him know she was waiting, he had to do something fast. He nervously tugged down on the bottom of his belly shirt. His considered that his Aunt had taken the time to bring the paddle along with her. Lane blurted out, "The paddle. Use the paddle on me." "No need to raise your voice, young lady," Vanna cautioned him. "You're not going to be unruly now, are you?" "I won't. I'm sorry." He swallowed hard. "No, Ma'am." Evaluating him skeptically, she said, "I hope not. I don't want to see you turning into a problem child." He wanted to correct her when she called him a child, but was too worried about getting himself deeper into trouble. So Lane just put his hands together and tried to project his willingness to cooperate. A moment later he noticed that he was wringing his hands and shifting his hips. Vanna had spotted it also. Too late, he stopped what he'd been doing. "Really, Laney, we can't have you squirming around like that." She rolled her eyes, a picture of thinning patience. "Don't you think that, when you do that, you're being difficult?" He didn't think any such thing, but was beyond standing up to her. Lane lied and said, "I was. Being difficult. Being..." He remembered a term she had used a few years back, when he was eighteen and under her care. "... being undisciplined." "Exactly. Which is why I'm now going to give you some discipline. Do you understand how you're making me have to do that?" "I do," he said, defeated. "Then please go and fetch my paddle. You find it in the big case with all your clothes. It's in the bottom, under all your fun fashions. And Laney?" "Yes, Ma'am?" "Don't make a mess of your things. I wouldn't want to have to correct you for that, too. Now go and get the paddle. Hurry up, dear." How could he hurry up yet not disarrange all the clothes packed neatly in the oversized suitcase? He rushed off, guessing they were noticing his pale bottom and the way it was shown off by that thong. Soon they would be noticing how thoroughly it was reddened. Once he found the paddle he paused, holding it out before him like a venomous snake. That implement held many deep memories for him. He made one last check of where he'd taken it from, to be sure he hadn't left anything out of place, then started back toward his Aunt. All too soon he was back in the living room. Lane held out the paddle obediently and she took it from him, weighing it in her hand and taking a few practice swings. Then she told him to go and get one of the kitchen chairs. He went and returned, then put the wooden chair where she directed, in the middle of the room. His Aunt Vanna sat down and patted her lap. "Let's go, Laney. I'm sure you want to be cooperative." "Yes, Ma'am." His bottom was already tingling from unpleasant anticipation as he draped himself over her plump yet firm thighs. She took the waist band of his thong and tugged on it, pulling the narrow rear section well up between his buttocks. Vanna rubbed the flat surface of the paddle lightly over the skin of his nether cheeks. When she raised it in the air, Meryl came over, knelt so she could look into Lane's eyes, and took his face between her hands. "Don't worry, Laney," she said soothingly. "I'll be here for you the entire time." Giving him a kiss on the tip of his nose, she asked, "Ready, girl?" His lips quivered as he told her, "Yes." Then, remembering his earlier instructions, he amended that to, "Yes, Miss Meryl." His wife smiled sweetly and, as he gazed at her pretty face, the paddle descended swiftly and cracked him across both halves of his rump. He howled and, before he could even begin to recover, a second, third and forth blow landed in rapid succession. That had him wailing and kicking his feet. It was so mortifying to have his bride getting a close-up view as he yelped repeatedly and his face contorted with each of the next dozen swats. Just as he thought he would break down completely, Aunt Vanna stopped. Lane tried to catch his breath. There were half- formed tears in his eyes, threatening to spill down his flushed cheeks. He struggled to calm himself but only partly succeeded. Meryl said, "Poor baby. Does that paddle hurt your bot-bot? Does it, Laney?" He sniffled and admitted, "It hurts terribly. Miss Meryl." "Well," she considered, sounding reasonable. "Let's try some more and give you another chance to deal with it. Try not to start crying, sweetie. That would be soooo embarrassing." Before he expected it, the paddle landed on his buns again. He squirmed and bleated, with Meryl giving him a sympathetic look all the while. At last the flurry of strokes ended and he was able to catch his breath. Cupping Lane's chin in the palm of her hand, with the fingers of the other toying with his ponytail, Meryl said, "Honestly, Laney, you're not doing at all well. I was thinking of telling Aunt Vanna you'd had enough, but you're not even trying to stay still and contain yourself. I guess she'll simply have to keep going. It's for your own good." She touched the tip of her nose against the end of his and advised, "Get ready, honey bug." He pleaded with his eyes but Vanna was merciless, delivering another two dozen spanks that left him crying profusely, babbling, and displaying a red face and redder backside. His wife murmured a few more words about how weak and disappointing he had been, before telling him to go stand in the corner. He went there and stood with his bottom still exposed and looking as sore as it felt. Vanna approved of everything Meryl had improvised: kneeling, offering insincere consolation, denigrating Lane's efforts to bear the spanking, distorting the reality of the situation. The older woman signaled her approval with a broad wink and thumbs up. Facing the juncture of the walls, Lane didn't see any of that. During the rest of Vanna's stay, the two women discussed how to continue and maintain the destruction of Lane's manhood. The Aunt advised exploiting every opportunity to undermine his confidence. Meryl asked what to do about sex. The advice was to keep him chaste for a while, let him assume he would stay that way, and get him emptied of all expectations. At that point, when his hope was at its nadir, he could be refilled with whatever his spouse wished . Reducing him to an abject sex slave was an appealing option. Vanna also suggested visiting a web site called Fiction Maniacs, with a cornucopia of free stories, so Meryl could explore ideas and see what appealed to her. She happily did that, and discovered lurid passages like these. From BOOT BOY BETTY. As Benny, now known as Betty, crawled across the room on hands and knees, his attention was fully on Davina's boots. They reached her mid- thighs, were of shining black leather, and featured four inch spike heels. She leered down at him, enjoying the sight of his baby doll nightie and matching panties, fishnet stockings, plus sexy shoes with heels and platforms so high he couldn't stand in them. When he looked up at her imploringly, she enjoyed the way he had applied his make-up, giving himself a whorish face. She said, "What's on your mind, Boot Boy? Or should I just call you Betty? You look like you have something you want to say." "I..." He nervously licked his lips. "If you would just permit me to touch your boots, to hug them, worship them with my mouth..." "Truthfully? I thought you said that I could never get you addicted to them. Is your willpower that feeble, Betty?" "Yes, Mistress," he sobbed. "I can't stop thinking about them. You've turned me into a pathetic boot lover." From SMALL WHERE IT COUNTS. "Let's see if this helps you get into the mood," Richard's wife Jemma said to him. "I hate to see you so my husband so upset that he can't get into the mood for sex." Her fingers went to his nipples and nimbly teased them. He moaned and unconsciously thrust out his soft chest for more. She was toying with them through the thin material of his belly shirt. He involuntarily writhed his hips in response. The front of his satin panties began to rise, but not much. "What's this, Rachel?" his wife questioned, using his female name. "It's so small. It's certainly not a cock. Just a little gherkin. A pickle in your panties. That panty pickle could never satisfy any woman. Someone married to you would definitely have to seek physical pleasure with a real man. Like..." He sniffled and said, "Not Bart. No my old bully from school. Anybody but Bart." "Gee," she said with mock pity. "I wish you'd told me that before I invited him over." That was when, as if on cue, a loud masculine knock sounded on the front door. Jemma stopped fingering his nipples and told him he'd better go and see who was there. He started for the door, his laughably small erection still evident under those pretty, peach colored panties. There were more examples from stories with titles like MY WIFE'S PLAN FOR ME, PERMANENT DISGUISE, HORMONES MADE ME A WHORE and PLEASE GIVE ME BACK MY MALE CLOTHES. Meryl came away with so many devilish ideas, and a promise to herself to check that excellent free page regularly. And especially to leave glowing reviews for their fine writers. At last it was time for his Aunt Vanna to depart. The older woman was now wearing a dark pants suit, high-collared white blouse, and tall leather boots with block heels. Her chestnut hair was in a tight bun at the back of her head. Her voluptuous contours were well shown off. Those boots and that hairstyle gave her an air of unquestioned authority. As the women said goodbye to each other, Lane stood off to the side, wearing only a long rainbow-striped scarf around his neck, a matching tube top, and tight yellow slacks covered with outsized red dots, along with orange ankle socks. Meryl said, "I can't thank you enough, Vanna. You've turned my husband from a slothful, uncaring annoyance, to an obedient, attentive asset. It's so nice to have a sissy around the house." "Don't give me all the credit, dear. Right from day one you were a big help. And some of those ideas you told me you want to try out, well..." She rocked her head theatrically. "... he might never recover from them." They both laughed, while Lane cringed and wondered what his bride had in mind to do to him. By then there was no chance he would speak a word without being prompted. "I can't wait to have him wear panties and stockings under his work clothes. And maybe an occasional corset. I'm fully confident I can carry on your good work," Meryl said with a wicked grin. "And I very much doubt that he'll be trying to justify any bad behavior by saying he's the man of the house. Not any more." "I'm sure you can keep him in line, dear. And to help you along, I've left my sorority paddle on the bed, along with a few other toys that I think you'll find especially useful. That includes the certain something we discussed last night." "Oh my," Lane's wife said happily. "I'll be sure to give you a full report." "Please do. Later I'll come back so I can join in on Laney's instruction again. In fact, this has been so rewarding, and brought back so many delightful memories, that I hope you'll consider having me visit regularly." "I insist," Meryl told her. As his Aunt Vanna left, Lane could only stand there in his shameful attire, wringing his hands and pressing his knees together. He knew how he was acting added to his sissy appearance but all that was beginning to feel normal. He wondered what else would soon feel the same way. ********* (For a different take on the theme of the controlling Aunt, please check my story A VISIT TO HIS AUNT from 2016.)