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Two Aunts
Part 4

by Graham

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 15 Nov 2017

No sooner had Halloween passed than the Thanksgiving holiday weekend was forthcoming. The two Aunts discussed having an extended family gathering, in order to let Garret know he was a part of the Henderson-Doyle families’ heritages.

They invited their brother, Thomas Doyle, his wife, Fiona, and their two sons, Garret’s cousins, Timothy and Sean. They also invited Garret’s Uncle and Aunt, Robert and Virginia, on his late Father’s side, together with their three daughters, also Garret’s cousins, Sara, Elizabeth, and Rachel.

Garret’s paternal Grandparents had passed, but his maternal Grandfather, a widower, was brought along with his son, Thomas and Fiona. The Hendersons declined because they had other plans to which they had committed earlier.

The Doyles arrived on Wednesday night. Thomas and Fiona occupied one of the two, remaining guest rooms, Grandpa Doyle taking the other. Aunt Violet instructed Garret to make room for his cousins, Tim and Sean, to share his bedroom.

All 3 boys would share the large bed that was Garret’s. Tim was 16, and Sean was 14. They had not seen Garret since they all were small boys, so getting together as teenagers was much more exciting and fun.

As all eight of them dined together for supper on Friday night, Aunt Violet told Garret they would get up early and take him, and Thomas, and Grandpa Doyle, to visit Garret’s Mom at the nursing home where she resided. Thomas said his boys, Tim and Sean, would go too.

Thanksgiving Day, the two Aunts, with Garret, and Grandpa Doyle, Thomas and Mabel, along with Tim and Sean, all drove to the Oaklawn Nursing Center to visit Garret’s Mom. When they arrived, they were surprised and saddened to see her show no real recognition of them.

She had a gastric tube because she had lost the ability to swallow as a result of the traumatic brain injury she had sustained. Seeing his Mom in her condition upset Garret, and he sat next to her, crying.

Grandpa Doyle also sat next to his daughter, weeping quietly as well. Thomas pulled a chair up to his sister’s wheel chair and tried to talk with or at her. Spending over an hour and a half with Garret’s Mom, everyone was upset and sad to see her in such a state.

Garret cried aloud, with no self-consciousness about being emotional in front of his relatives. Mom, Momma, I’m sorry. I love you, Momma. I love you, and miss you.

It broke him up that she was unable to reflect any awareness or response to his expression of his feelings about her. Finally, Aunt Iris suggested they would come back again over the weekend to see how she was going. They all left sorrowing over their daughter, sister, aunt.

Returning back to the big house, Violet told the 3 boys to go outside and play while they finished getting the dinner ready. Mabel and Iris set the table with china and silver.

Grandpa Doyle sat outside watching the boys and Thomas play touch football. It was good, fun exercise in the brisk, late November weather. They played, Sean and his Dad against Garret and Tim.

The score was tied, 12-12 when Tim tossed a deep pass to Garret, who grabbed the ball and turned to run to the end zone. At that moment, Sean reached out with his arms and touched Garret before he could break away.

Garret did not stop, however, but continued on into the end zone where he raised both arms to signal a touchdown.

Sean called out, That’s not a touch down! I touched him! He’s tackled!

You didn’t touch me! Garret yelled in retort.

Tim and his Father were down field and could not see whether Sean had truly touched Garret, who continued to insist he had not been downed. You’re cheating, Garret! Sean shouted at his cousin.

I am not! Garret responded. You’re lying, Sean.

No I’m not! You are, Garret. You’re lying, because you know I touched you, you felt it, Sean insisted.

18 to 12! Garret shouted, ignoring his youngest cousin.

No fair, Garret! You’re lying, and cheating! Sean declared.

Everyone stood still, at an impasse for a moment or two. That was when Grandpa Doyle spoke up.

I think you need to own up to the truth, Garret. Your cousin touched your hips before you spun around to run to the end zone. I saw him with my own eyes. Tell the truth now, son, he urged.

Noooo, Grandpa! That’s not what happened, Garret persisted.

Now, Garret. The truth is more important than the score. Being honest is more important than winning, son. Just admit it, and learn a lesson, and we’ll all just go on playing, Grandpa Doyle exhorted.

Instead, in a pique of angry frustration, Garret spiked the ball, shouted Not Fair!, and took off running to the house. The game was over. When Thomas and Tim joined Sean and Grandpa Doyle, Tom asked his Dad. Are you sure, Dad?

Absolutely. I had a straight shot view of Garret as he caught the ball. Sean was less than a foot away from him, and leaned toward him, swatting Garret’s hip.

Grandpa’s telling it right, Dad, Sean confirmed. That’s exactly what happened.

Okay, well, unfortunately, the game is over. Let’s go inside. I’ll let Violet and Iris know what happened, Thomas said.

Walking back inside, the house was filled with wonderfully delicious aromas wafting around every room. Where’s Garret? Thomas asked.

He ran inside and up to his room. Said something about the game was no fun. I haven’t had time to check on him, with getting the turkey and stuffing ready, and Iris is putting out the squash and pies, Violet responded.

Is there something wrong? Violet inquired.

Well, it looks like Garret lied, and cheated, to try to win the football game. He got a pass from Tim, here, but Sean immediately touched his hips, so he was down. Instead, he ran the ball into the end zone for a touchdown, which he insisted was genuine.

Neither Tim, who pass the ball to Garret, nor I, saw what happened. Grandpa Doyle was sitting on the sidelines and said he saw everything that happened, that it was as Sean said. Garret caught the pass, and Sean immediately downed Garret by touching him.

Garret refuse to apologize and tell the truth, and ran off into the house, Tom completed the account.

Violet stopped what she was doing. Mabel, could you please takeover for a minute and put all this turnkey on the big platter here, and the stuffing in these two, large bowls? I’ve got to take care of something for a few minutes.

Mabel came into the kitchen and took over. That boy has got a very serious and important lesson to learn, she said as he dried her hands.

Dad always told us, telling the truth overrides everything else, no matter what. She looked at Grandpa Doyle, paying tribute to him with her words and eyes.

She hurriedly trudged of the stairs to Garret’s bedroom. Tim and Sean followed along. Inside, she found Garret lying on his bed, on his face and stomach, angry.

Garret, what’s going on, young man? Grandpa Doyle says you lied and cheated. You know that’s wrong, Garret!

You need to get up off that bed, come downstairs, and apologize to Grandpa Doyle, Uncle Thomas, and Tim and Sean. If you do that, I know they will all forgive you, and you will have learned a very humbling lesson, young man.

Garret did not speak or move. Garret! I’m talking to you, youngster. Do you want a spanking? Do you need a spanking? Aunt Violet asked

No, do I don’t! But I don’t want to talk to anybody! Garret declared.

Well, young man, you are definitely going to do what I mentioned, which is what you should do. Only, now, you’re going to do it after getting a very sore, spanked bottom. Come with me now, young man!

Violet reached down, grabbed Garret’s left ear, and dragged him up off the bed, towing him out of the bedroom, down the stairs, to the main parlour where Grandpa was seated. Once again, Tim and Sean hurriedly followed Garret with Violet down the stairs.

Grandpa Doyle, what does a young man need who refuses to tell the truth, admit he was wrong, and apologize? Violet asked.

Why, that’s a boy who’s just begging for a darn good, hard spanking to straighten him out, and teach him a lesson he won’t forget, Grandpa Doyle answered, pronouncing Garret’s sentence.

All right, then, everybody else sit down, Thomas, Tim, Sean. You are all going to see what happens to a boy in this house when he lies, won’t admit it, and refuses to apologize.

She sat down on the bench by the bay window of the parlour, pulling Garret along with her. She grabbed the waistband of the Garret’s jeans, pulling him close, then unsnapping and unzipping them so quickly, Garret was stunned at feeling them instantly dropping down his legs to his feet, and feeling the cooler air on his bare legs.

Face crimson, his eyes downward, he glanced up, eyes pleading with his Aunt to be allowed to keep his briefs on. Those too, young man, Aunt Violet directed.

He was in such shock, he continued standing cemented in place, unable to resist. Violet Doyle put her hands on either side of his bony, narrow hips, reached inside the waistband of his briefs, and in one swift motion, had them at the floor, puddled around his feet with his jeans.

Self-consciously, he dropped his hands to cover his raging boner that was protruding upward against his t-shirt. Pull your t-shirt off, too, Garret. We don’t want it getting in the way of your spanking, now, do we? she asked.

The boy’s face grimaced as he groaned silently to himself. He glanced downward, knowing his maturing, young boyhood was tenting up against his t-shirt.

Lifting the shirt up his arms, and over his head, as ordered by Aunt Violet disclosed to the world his raging, young woody. His slim, stiff penis, raised erect, about 5″ long, was a hard, steely smooth phallus emerging from his small bush of brown, pubic hair.

Seeming to ignore it, Aunt Violet grasped the thin boy’s narrow hips and waist with her matronly hands, lifting him up off the floor, stepping up and out of his jeans and briefs, hanging high in her grip, before guiding him upside down over her lap, and in place.

The boy’s testicles were walnut sized and swung between his very erect member as he turned to bend over his Aunt’s lap. Once bending down across Aunt Iris’ lap, his erect member was poking hard down between her legs, and his lean, little legs, spread apart dangling above the floor, furnishing a clear view of his scrotum and anal opening.

Aunt Iris was too strong for him to resist, he knew. She quickly positioned and poised his boyish, bare bottom as a ready target. For a second or two, her hand caressed his bottom, before she began to apply the now-well-known brush to spank him once more.

Nooo-hoooo, Aunt Iris! Noooo, please, I’m sorry. I don’t want a spanking! Please, stop! Auntie, nooo, please! Don’t spaaaaank meeeee! I’m sorry! I mean it! I am! I’ll say it! I’ll tell the truth! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll be good! I’ll do what you saaaay!

He tried to resign himself to this discipline, upside down over his Aunt Violet’s lap, to take his punishment under her strong hands. Instead, he was confounded by his mixed-up, confused feelings pushing into the forefront of his attention by the unmistakable throes of his boner surging forward for orgasm.

So many, repeated experiences forced Garret to come to grips with the troubling reality that he was always hopelessly aroused by the discipline his Aunts administered. Facing that upsetting fact forced him to recognize his feelings, increasingly out in the open; but it also left him with frightening questions and fears.

Would the desires and fantasies plaguing him prove to be his nightmare, compelling him to acknowledge what he shrunk back from admitting? Could he ever recognize, and allow himself to admit, what he needed, wanted?

The hair-brush rose and fell in a syncopated and staccato-like rhythm. Garret’s protesting gasps and objecting cries rapidly diminished, turning into begging pleas and entreaties, escalating to choking, crescendoing, high-pitched squeals and shrieks, the prelude to surrender.

He wrestled and writhed and twisted and wriggled, desperately trying to evade the repeated, peppering tirades of excruciating pain. He squealed and yelped and squirmed and wriggled, but there was no escape from Aunt Violet.

Her strong left arm held this lean, young boy in place, upside down. Her right hand wielded the wooden brush with fiery, devastating accuracy and verve, repeatedly blistering and igniting every small mound, curve, side, inner and outer, of Garret’s narrow, boyish rump and thin thighs, causing his entire, trim body to jolt and arch up with each smack.

Held firmly in the control of Aunt Violet, he intermittently lifted up, as his arms and legs, not reaching the floor, flailed wildly around in the air. He screamed and kicked as his cheeks became inflamed with flashes of searing pain.

He was kicking and flailing his legs frenziedly, struggling valiantly across his Auntie’s lap, trying to twist his suffering rear end away to elude the punishing strokes. Garbled sounds tumbled from his mouth, as increasingly unintelligible outbursts of teary, incoherent emotions.

Garret was crying out at each strike, blubbering wildly by the time the vicious brush was moving up and down between his legs, striking his inner thighs repeatedly. Pleeeeez-aaaa-Auntieeee-aaa-nooo-hooooo-waaaa-aaaa-I’m-aaaa-sarrrr-ah-eeee-aaaa-nooo-ooooo-uh-uh-waaaaa!

His bottom was on fire, and he bawled haplessly broken and mortified, reprimanded with chastening pain. The raging fires soared faster to higher temperatures, and waves of pain surged relentlessly through his behind as he struggled in vain to find a way to endure the searing fury of the hairbrush.

Garret was blubbering wildly and squalling like a little boy as he tried, in vain, to apologize, to promise, and plead for an end to this licking. Howling with shuddering, wracking sobs, he begged, pleaded and promised to do everything his Aunt had said, and anything else he could think of.

The spanking he received was as bad, or worse, than any of the large number he had gotten since coming to live with his two Aunts. The blistering brush effectively caused the boy over her lap to quickly plead and cry for mercy.

Atl at once, he stiffened and arched upward and backward, freezing rigid as a stone statue before letting loose. With equal headlong suddenness, he collapsed, sinking forward and downward to face the floor, accompanied by a lingering, shrill, primordial cry of anguished agony, defeat, and submission.

As he intermittently glanced up at his cousins, Uncle, and Grandpa, observing his spanking, he was mortified, but only fleetingly so, as the primary, almost exclusive, focus of his attention was the excruciating, fire on his young bottom and backs of his thighs.

Almost as quickly as it had started, Aunt Violet had the boy back up on his feet.

Now, Garret, you honestly admit you lied, and apologize for doing so. These folks, your family, you have upset with your very bad behaviour, young man.

Squalling and blubbering like a punished, little child, Garret nodded his head up and down in agreement like a dashboard figure. Humbled and emotionally eviscerated to his soul, he began stammering choppily through his squalling.

Uh-uh-I’m-uh-suh-arrrr-uh-eeee-I-wuz-uh-baaaad, and, uh-uh-lied-uh...ow-ow!

And cheated, Aunt Violet prompted him further with more smiting smacks of the hair brush to his torched fanny, to prod him further.

Aaaa-ow-ow-uh-uh-and-uh-cheeeeeated! he added.

’And needed to get a spanking before you, Violet completed her coaching.

A pause was a mistake, because it evoked Aunt Violet’s command, Say it!, and another volley of swats with the brush against the bawling boy’s sore, singed bottom.


Standing there wailing, mortified, hands plastered on his tortured bottom, his vertically elevated, small pillar pointing outward, his face and head lowered so he could avoid looking at them, he heard voices of his Grandpa and Uncle, exhorting and reassuring him, reassure him, telling him he was forgiven, to be a good boy and behave his Aunts.

With his young missile in ready, lift-off position, his hands securely clasping his bottom, naked, his face, ears, and neck dark crimson, he acceded to his Aunt’s firm, steering direction, placing him face first into a corner of the parlour to stand, hands on he damp head, his red-marked, hot, glowing bottom on display.

About 20 minutes later, his Aunt instructed him he could leave the corner, to find and pull his underpants and jeans, back on into place, and hurry and get himself dressed again and ready for Thanksgiving dinner.

Garret quickly stooped over with discomfort, to pull his underpants and jeans back up around his waist, grimacing while he zipped them back up. He could feel everyone’s eyes locked in on his actions as he turned to walk slowly, morosely, eyes reddened, face streaked with tears, into the dining room, to sit down and join everyone in Thanksgiving dinner.

Grandpa Doyle was requested to say grace, which included gratitude for the abundant and delicious meal, for the beloved family around him, and for the good teaching and direction that was passed on from generation to generation, to the children with them that day.

At first, Garret was silent, and his cousins quiet and reluctant to speak. Having watched their contemporary cousin get spanked reinforced the reality that they, too, would get the same punishment if they too misbehaved.

By the time the plentiful meal was finished, and pies were being cut, the strained emotions from the recent discipline of Garret had diminished, and everyone was happily and warmly talking and sharing the moment together.

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