Spankings Enemas Diapers

Emily's Story  en

Online : Jan 5, 2010
Updated : Mar 6, 2010

I had just turned 13 years old the week before my parents died. My sister Anna, then 14 years old, and I became orphans in just three days. I will never forget the day the telegram came, announcing the death of my father, a Marine officer, in the quagmire of 1967 Vietnam. My inconsolable grief over my father's death turned out to be small compared with that of my mother. She had needed my father's strength, even from the other side of the world, more than anyone knew. Her death, an automobile accident we were told at the time, was officially a suicide. She was said to be overcome by the challenge of raising two teenage girls on a officers pension and drove her car over a cliff, landing in the Columbia river after tumbling from the bluff above. Today I know the real truth: she died of a broken heart.

My parents deaths were the reason my sister and I moved to Washington, across the river from the small Oregon town of my birth, to the house of my Aunt and Uncle. Although I moved no more than five miles away, it might as well have been five thousand as I had a new house, a new family, a new school, and I would need to make all new friends.

My uncle, the older brother of my father, was a successful businessman. He was partners in the only insurance agency in this small Washington town, and was quite wealthy as a result. My new home was a large majestic house on a bluff above the river on a big estate with an ample orchard of apple trees and at least one hickory tree. For the first time in my life,I had my own room, as did my sister Anna.

For the first three weeks following my parents death, my Uncle was mostly at home, handling the affairs of my parents. I found him to be warm and gentle, comforting my sister and I at a really difficult time. My aunt, on the other hand, was cold and reserved. She barely talked to us at all, barring a conversation, actually more of a lecture that she gave us the first night in Washington. On this occasion, she said that she and my uncle were not used to having children in the house, much less teenagers; that they had chosen not to have children (I later found out that the reason she remained childless was because she had such a miserable childhood); and although they were willing to take us in, that we would have to "pull our weight". She gave us a written schedule of daily chores and warned us about failure to perform our tasks. She then asked how we were disciplined by our parents. We gave her some examples of punishments we had received, grounding, removal of privileges, extra work. She than asked if we were ever spanked. I could remember two occasions, the last more than five years prior; my sister could only remember one spanking in her life. My aunt asked us to describe the spankings. We told her truthfully that we had been spanked only by my mother, on our bare bottoms, and that it really hadn't been very severe. She had used her open palm and had given us no more than five slaps. My aunt solemnly shook her head, and said that things were going to change for us, and that we would be disciplined "as I was when I was as a child". She didn't elaborate further. I remember this talk vividly since talking about my chastisements excited me, despite the implications of coming physical punishment. At this time, I did not understand my true nature, but I would not have to wait long.

My uncle returned to work after the first three weeks at our new home. On the day he left for work, my aunt entered my sister's room, closed the door, and started talking in a loud voice. I was laying on my bed, and could only hear snippets of the lecture, but it was apparent that my sister had failed to do all her morning chores. I went out in the hall to hear more clearly. At that moment my aunt emerged from Anna's room and went to her own bedroom. Anna, crying softly, followed her out of her room, and headed downstairs. I quickly followed to find out what had happened between my sister and my aunt. "She wants me to cut a switch", said Anna miserably as she went outside. I followed her outside, my excitement growing. This was to be the first of many spankings at my new home. "She told me to cut a hickory branch and make sure its at least 2 feet long and 1/4 inch thick", said Anna through muffled tears. "What will she do to you if the switch is smaller?", I wanted to know. "She didn't say, but I don't think I want to find out. I'm really scared Emily!", said my older sister. I watched in amazement as my sister selected the element of her coming chastisement and walked upstairs to my aunts bedroom. My aunt closed her door after Anna entered, glaring at me as the door closed.

In a trance, I kneeled by the door to hear the sounds that would emerge. "Remove your dress", said my aunt. "Now your panties. Now lay over this bench". My sister was crying harder now. My aunt then gave my sister another lecture about doing her chores, then shamed her for being an older girl and having to get "spanked on the bare bottom". The "bare bottom" was emphasized by my aunt, as if getting spanked on the bare bottom was to be a rare occasion. In fact, we were to find out later, we were never to be spanked any other way. After a brief pause at the end of my aunts lecture, the switch made its first appearance. "Whirrrrrrr, CRACK" My sister Anna screamed in pain. "Whirrrrrr, CRACK" Again, my sister howled and I began to feel this incredible heat between my legs. "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" The blows came mercilessly, intertwined with my sisters screaming, crying and begging. My heat grew. "Whirrrrr, CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" The "spanking" continued for what seemed like an hour, but was actually only a couple minutes after two dozen unbelievable lashes. My female being was on fire at the end and my legs were weak as I hurried away from the door and back to my room.

As I laid on my bed, rubbing myself, I could hear my poor sister crying next door. I waited until she stopped crying, and I could stand it no
longer and went next door to her room. I then begged Anna to show me her bottom. She didn't want to, of course, but I was relentless and she finally showed me when I promised to leave after the viewing. My sisters bottom was incredible. Long red welts covered the entire lower surface of my sisters shapely globes. On the right buttock, and on the right thigh, I saw yellow-purple blisters caused by the end of the switch. Drunk with passion, I returned to my room and masturbated furiously. With my heart pounding and completely breathless, I had my first orgasm. While I had masturbated before, I had never had an orgasm, nor did I know such a thing existed. During the orgasm it was all I could do to avoid screaming aloud.

Over the next few months, my sister and I received many such chastisements. These only occurred when my uncle was not at home, presumably because the kind man would not approve of his brothers children being so soundly spanked. The ritual we followed was the same. We would be lectured about our misbehavior, and told to go cut a switch and come to the room of my aunt. Then we would be told to remove our clothes and underwear, lay over the bench, and lectured again, always with the regret of having to "spank such an old child on the bare bottom". We were never spanked together. On the occasions when we committed a common misdeed, usually a sibling fight, we would be separately lectured, sent off, undressed, lectured again and spanked. My sister was always first, making the wait for me unbelievably tense and exciting.

The first time my aunt spanked me, I could barely breathe. My sister had been spanked twice before I got my first, but I already knew the routine. Handing my aunt the freshly cut switch, I could barely undress myself. My arms and legs twitched with excitement as I laid across the spanking bench for the first time. I am sure my aunt thought my nervousness arose from fear rather than anxious anticipation. "Whirrrrr, CRACK" The first stroke took away what was left of my breath, as a line of fire was drawn across my bare bottom. After five strokes, I was crying and screaming equally as hard as my sister had during her spankings. "Whirrrrr, CRACK". "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" "CRACK" The noise made by the switch as it fell seemed to take an eternity as I waited for the intense pain. "Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrr, CRACK" the last blow, my twenty-fourth, landed, the last scream given, and I found myself crawling off the soft bench. But, it was what I saw in my aunt's face that was most amazing part of this experience. My stern, cold, reserved auntie had a look of passion equal to my own, and was laboring for breath as I was. Overcome, with the heat of the moment, I picked up my clothes, gave my aunt a warm, lingering hug and left the room.

It was at this moment that I realized my true nature, and for the first time, felt great love for my chastiser. I often wondered if as I went to
my room to masturbate after a spanking, or after one of my sisters spankings, if my aunt was doing the same in her room. She certainly
locked the door to her room when we left, and we were always admonished not to disturb her. While I will never know for sure, I felt my aunt and I were alike in our passions, so perhaps we were also alike in how we dealt with them. I returned to my room, locked the door, and looked at my well spanked bottom in the mirror for at least five minutes. Then I laid on my bed and masturbated with one hand while rubbing my bare bottom with the other hand. The orgasm that followed was my most glorious to date. However, my passion was not sated until much later that night, after probably an hour of masturbation, and several more orgasms, when I drifted off to sleep.

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