Guest Fiction 'A Visit to Aunty's' by Naughty Penny

I am honoured to present to you an Aunty Andrea piece written by Naughty Penny, also known as Penelope Hasler, the owner of Naughty Little Writer. This piece is her visit to her Aunty Andrea, I do hope you all enjoy it and show your appreciation by commenting and playing Penny a visit at her own blog as well.

Penny has also provided some images from ABHunnies and Girl Spanks Girl which she feels illustrate the story.

“Young lady, you’ll tell me the truth if we have to stand here all day. Did you or did you not take some biscuits from the biscuit barrel?”

The young lady in question stood in silent contemplation. She was a grown woman, an intelligent one at that, and the preposterousness of the situation she found herself in – being literally caught raiding the proverbial biscuit barrel – was not lost on her. It was just the sort of situation, in fact, that a girl in one of her stories might encounter. And it would ordinarily have made her laugh.

Yet, right there and then, none of those things mattered. Right there and then, she was nothing more than the person she appeared to be: a little girl in a blue sundress blushing bashfully under the questioning gaze of her Aunt. And she did blush, and stare down at her shoes, and hide her face behind her long blonde locks. And there was nothing remotely funny about her plight.

“Penny,” repeated the elegant matriarch who stood over her, a touch more firmness in her voice, “I will ask you one more time. And you know what happens to little girls who fib. Did you go into the biscuit barrel?”

Penny looked hard at her right shoe as she twirled it on the tiled floor. A shiny black buckle shoe; a little girl’s shoe. It contrasted so strikingly with the bright white cotton of her sock. She wished that she wasn’t a silly little girl. She wished that she hadn’t got herself into trouble. But she was, and she had, and, more than anything, she didn’t want to fib to her Aunty.

“Yes, Aunty Andrea,” she whispered, her face still shyly hidden under a mop of golden hair. “I did take some biccies… and… and I eated them.” She had done it now. Butterflies danced in her tummy at the enormity of her confession.

Andrea smiled and shook her head. Penny was such a sweet little thing, but it seemed that her Daddy was right: she simply couldn’t help being naughty sometimes. And of course he had warned, when handing Penny over for the weekend, that she liked to snack and spoil her appetite.

“That’s very naughty, Penny,” Andrea chided, folding her arms in slightly amused displeasure. “You know that you shouldn’t eat snacks before dinner, don’t you?”

“But Aunty!” Penny cried, her hazel eyes suddenly flashing up to meet the gaze of her accuser. “I’m a big girl now and I can eat what I want!”

Andrea’s smile disappeared at this sudden and ugly display of wilfulness, another trait of Penny’s that her Daddy had forewarned her about. But if the frowning little madam had thought her outburst a clever show of her maturity, she would soon have cause to regret it. For, just as Penny felt herself every inch the little girl she was dressed as, at that moment all Andrea saw before her was an insolent child in dire need of a spanking.

“You are anything but a big girl, Penny Hasler,” Andrea scolded, her tone now every bit as severe as her expression, “and I’m going to show you just what you get for disobeying your Aunty and for showing such cheek!”

And with that she took Penny firmly by the wrist and marched her from the kitchen and into the lounge. Penny had a fair suspicion of what lay in store, and she struggled and squirmed in an attempt to escape her fate. But her petulant efforts were in vain, for she was smaller and slighter than her Aunty, and she was dragged along as if she were a tantrum-throwing six-year-old.

Once in the lounge, Andrea released her hold on Penny’s wrist and took a chair from the dining table. Penny rubbed her wrist, pouting resentfully.

Andrea sat down upon the chair and glared at Penny with a stern expectance. The naughty subject of her gaze looked at her Aunty, then at her Aunty’s waiting lap, and the angry frown on her little face softened into a timid look of appeal. She didn’t much like the idea of a spanking, now that the reality of one lay vividly before her.

“Come along, Miss,” Andrea warned, patting her leg in encouragement. “Over my knee, quick smart.”

Penny, ever the silly girl, hesitated with a frown and a petulant little whine. She was rewarded by being taken by the arm once more, and pulled unceremoniously down into position. “Oh!” she gasped, her feet suddenly free of the ground.

“You’re getting a spanking whether you like it or not, my girl!” Andrea cried, a touch of anger in her voice for the first time. Naughty Penny, for her part, was still very much in an uncooperative frame of mind, and she squirmed on her Aunty’s lap as if doing so would somehow help her cause.

“Now,” said Andrea, smoothing her hand over the back of Penny’s dress, “are you going to be a good girl for the first time today and take your punishment well?”

Penny’s silence told her Aunty that she was not. And, though Andrea couldn’t see the scowl on Penny’s face, she knew more than enough about troublesome little girls to picture it exactly.

“Well then, madam. We’ll just have to see if we can spank some of that naughtiness out of you, won’t we?”

Andrea lifted the hem of Penny’s dress, then the voluminous, lacy petticoats that lay underneath, and pinned them to her back with a firm hand. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw that Penny was wearing bright pink Cookie Monster panties. Naughty girls and biscuits!

Penny was a petite girl, and she had a pert little rear. Andrea thought, in fact, that the naughty bottom that lay before her might have belonged to a girl of fifteen, rather than a grown woman. It certainly seemed to fit well with the behaviour of its owner. Or at least it did when she was being naughty ‘little Penny’. Ordinarily, Penny, or ‘Penelope’ as she was known when she was in adult mode, was a sensitive, thoughtful young woman. But she had a decidedly mischievous streak that periodically bubbled to the surface, and she really seemed to revel in the role of a naughty preteen. It was a deep-seated part of her; it spoke of a genuine need to regress and be a little girl again. To misbehave and be punished. That was why she had jumped at the chance to pay a visit to her ‘Aunty’ Andrea; to spend a weekend living under her rules in her house. Whether she still thought it a great idea, now that she lay helpless across her Aunty’s lap about to be spanked, perhaps only Penny herself knew. What was certain was that, by the time she had been given what she needed and deserved, the fair skin of her behind would be much deeper in colour than her childish pink panties.

Those panties, to Penny’s impotent chagrin, were the very next moment smartly pulled down to her knees. Andrea often began spankings over knickers, but she had decided that her naughty niece’s behaviour warranted a spanking on the bare from the outset. She smoothed her hand over Penny’s soft skin, cupping her cheeks possessively, and tracing her fingers up and down her thighs. She even gave a feather touch to the smooth bare sex between Penny’s legs, eliciting a little moan from the bobbing blonde mane beside her ankle. She knew that Penny wanted this, and needed it, and she was most certainly going to get it.

“Ready, Penny?” she asked.

“Yes, Aunty,” came the sullen reply.

“Good. Now, this is going to hurt. But you thoroughly deserve it, and it’s for your own good.”

And she raised her hand and brought it down on Penny’s bottom – plumb in the centre of her right cheek – with a smart smack! A second spank quickly followed, right to the sit spot of the same cheek. Then two in quick succession to the other cheek. And then she began the spanking in earnest, alternating between Penny’s bouncing buttocks with rapid, stinging slaps.

SMACK-smack-smack-SMACK-smack-smack-SMACK-smack!

“You’re a VERY naughty girl, Penny Hasler, and I’m VERY cross with you!”

“Ow! Oh! I’m sorry, Aunty!” Penny yelped, the firm smacks to her rear lending a quivering quality to her childlike voice.

“Sorry’s not good enough, young lady! I’ve a good mind to send you straight home!”

Andrea’s reproaches stung Penny deeply. Already ashamed at being turned over her knee for a spanking, the thought that she had been horrid to such a caring woman made her feel like the naughtiest, most ungrateful girl in the whole world. She hadn’t really meant to upset her Aunty, and now she trembled at the crossness in her voice.

“While you’re under my roof you will obey my rules! Is that understood?”

Smack-smack-SMACK-smack!

“Ow! Ow! Yes, Aunty!”

“And that includes NO snacking before dinner!”

The young Miss Hasler was a demonstrative little spankee at the best of times, and she bucked and yelped like a little bronco under her Aunty’s firm hand, kicking her feet and stretching her pink panties between her legs in a most unladylike display. She kept up this undignified performance the whole time she was spanked, which was quite some considerable while. By the time Andrea had smacked the squirming girl’s deserving bottom for the final time, her little cheeks glowed a very sore-looking shade of rose.

But if Penny had thought that her punishment was over, she was mistaken. “Now, young lady,” Andrea said, running her hand over Penny’s warm buns, “that spanking was for taking the biscuits without permission. But you still need to be punished for your tantrum. It was very bad of you to speak to me in the manner you did, and I’m going to make sure you learn that actions have consequences. Because you’ve been so very bad, I’m going to give you the hairbrush.”

“Oh!” Penny squeaked. “B-but! Please, Aunty! I’ll be good!”

“I’m sure you will, darling,” Andrea smiled. “But in my experience naughty little girls always say that when they’re about to get a hiding. And I think you need to be taught a very good lesson; one that you won’t soon forget. Now, my brush is on the sideboard, next to the clock. I want you to go and get it for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Aunty,” Penny whispered, her voice as quietly submissive as it had earlier been spiteful. She clambered off Andrea’s lap and, after giving her bottom a sad little rub, shuffled across the room to retrieve the dreaded implement.

She took it up and stood for a few moments gazing upon it. Her freshly-spanked bottom stung terribly, little pinpricks of painful heat all over it, and she felt very immature and very sorry and very foolish: exactly like the naughty little girl Aunty said she was, in fact. And she held in her hands an object that would be used to intensify those feelings tenfold. Did she really want to experience that? Did she really want to have her bottom walloped until it burned? Did she really want to complete her regression and be made to cry like a naughty little girl?

She did. With her entire being, she did. Shuffling back to her Aunty, her little face bowed in shame, her panties bunched humiliatingly round her ankles, she felt the most wonderful sense of belonging.

“Here you are, Aunty,” she said, timidly handing the hairbrush to its owner.

“Good girl,” Andrea smiled. She was pleased to see that she didn’t need to tell Penny to resume her position across her knee, for the previously disobedient girl lowered herself there promptly and willingly.

“Now, Penny darling,” she began, lifting her niece’s dress and petticoats up once more and revealing her trembling, bare bottom, “I know you don’t like the hairbrush. I know that it stings. But if you’re going to grow up into a good Penny, you need to be punished when you’re naughty. You need to be made sorry for it. You know I’m only doing this because I love you, don’t you?”

“Yes, Aunty,” Penny replied, with all the simple truthfulness of a child. “I love you too.”

Andrea smoothed the cool back of the hairbrush over Penny’s sore cheeks for a few moments, then raised it without a word and brought it down in a flurry of hard swats.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“No answering back to your Aunty!” she scolded. “BAD girl! I’ve never heard such rudeness!”

“Ooh-oo-ooh!” Penny squealed, her distress at the scorching sensation making her buck and jolt in a new bout of frenzied futility. The hairbrush stung so terribly she couldn’t bear it! Her blonde locks grew ever more dishevelled as she tossed her head; her little bare legs flailed and scissored abjectly. But no matter what she did that horrid hairbrush just kept stinging her.

She had resisted tears up to that moment, but a sudden sequence of smacks to the backs of her thighs brought them out with a vengeance. She bawled as if she were a little girl lost at the mall, convinced that she would never see her loved ones again, and each pained yelp that the hairbrush provoked now had a pitiful tearfulness to it. “I’m suh-sor-ry, Aunty! I-I’m sorry!” she blubbed.

“I know you are, darling,” smiled Andrea, whopping Penny’s little red cheeks with the same loving firmness that she had started the spanking with. “But we’re not finished quite yet.”

And she applied her trusty hairbrush to Penny’s glowing rear for a good thirty or so more swats, then calmly dropped it onto the floor. Penny lay limp across her lap, sobbing. Her bottom was just as red as a cherry, and it must have burned dreadfully, but Aunty knew that her little niece would feel wonderful inside, having been rightly punished for her misbehaviour. For a good long while the loving guardian smoothed her hand over Penny’s smouldering curves, savouring the little whimpers that her touch brought forth.

“All right, sweetheart,” she said at last. “You can get up now.”

Penny obediently climbed off her Aunty’s lap and stood before her, tears streaking down her face, her hands sorrowfully rubbing her blistered cheeks, her pink panties lying forgotten atop her black buckle shoes. And then, without a word, she threw herself at her Aunty and hugged her tight, burying her head in her welcoming bosom.

“I’m s-sorry I was bad, Aunty,” she sobbed, every word meant as earnestly as any she had ever uttered. “I’m sorry…”

Andrea smiled and cradled the tearful girl. “There, there,” she cooed, tenderly petting the little cherub at her chest. “You have a good cry, darling. It’s all over now. Aunty forgives you.”

*****

Penny was as good as gold for the rest of the weekend, and she cheerfully helped her Aunty with her tasks around the house. Like a little ray of sunshine in her pretty yellow dress, she helped her in the garden (though she hid when she saw a wriggly worm), in the laundry room (singing songs as they folded bedsheets), and in the kitchen, and she smiled as happily as any girl ever had when they made fairy cakes. And, when her Daddy came on Sunday evening to collect her and take her home, she hugged her Aunty as if she never wanted to let her go.

“Now, Penny,” Andrea said, softly stroking the affectionate girl’s hair, “you be a good girl and go home with your Daddy. He will have missed you a great deal, remember. And don’t worry, sweetheart – you can come and visit your Aunty Andrea any time you like.”

Penny, suitably reassured, nodded in timid acquiescence, though she did not relinquish her grip for another minute or two. She waved as she was led to her Daddy’s car; as she was strapped into her seat; as the car made its way down the drive. And she didn’t stop until her Aunty had disappeared completely from view.

When she was halfway home, Penny picked up the little paper bag that sat on her lap; it had been a parting gift from Aunty. She opened it. Inside lay a pair of chocolate chip biscuits.