Punishment in My Family

A Short Story

Punishment

Today I'd like to tackle a different topic. It touches on the subject of incest. I'm not writing about it in a graphic way, but simply as it might have happened--or might still be happening--in some families.

If you'd like, you can email me about your own experiences or any unique, imaginative thoughts you might have.

Punishment is Necessary

I grew up in a strict household. I was punished for every transgression, no matter how small. My parents explained to me that this was part of a sensible upbringing and good for my future.

From a young age, my punishment was always the same. I was spanked on my bottom. I had to lie across my father's or mother's lap, and endure the spanking without complaining. And they really hurt.

This kind of strict upbringing followed me all those years. Even when I was older, nothing had changed. The only difference was that, starting when I turned 18 I had to take off my underwear and was no longer supposed to lie across my parents' knees. I had become too heavy for them.

Instead, I had to step up to the kitchen table and bend over. After the punishment, my bottom burned like fire every time. Over time, my parents demanded that I stand with my legs a little wider apart, supposedly so I'd have a more stable footing.

From then on, the blows landed not only on my bottom but also on my thighs--especially when my father punished me. Occasionally, his hands even touched my vagina. He acted as if he hadn't noticed. I believed, however, that he was touching me there on purpose, since the blows weren't as hard there.

My mother also included this intimate area when my father wasn't present. But her blows were more of a light pat than a slap. I could handle that just fine.

Over the time, my punishment became a real ritual that was part of our daily life, just like praying together before every meal.

Even as I got older, nothing changed. Except that I had grown taller and taken on the figure of a young woman. My butt had become firm and perky, despite--or perhaps because of--the intense treatment. My breasts had developed a respectable size and shape. Only my self-confidence hadn't grown along with me. I did everything my parents asked of me. Without asking why I should do something or refrain from doing it. Too much defiance led to punishment again.

Over time, I realized something else that stood out. When my father approached me to punish me and I stood bent over the kitchen table as instructed, I could see out of the corner of my eye that a huge bulge had formed in his pants.

I could see very clearly that my father had a pronounced erection. I'd never noticed that before--he'd probably been better at hiding it until then.

"Look straight ahead," he instructed me. "Spread your legs wider," came the next order. Of course, I knew that he now had a clear view of my pussy. Just as he wanted!

He stood next to me, one hand in his pocket, the other landing firmly on my butt. I flinched, leaned forward even further, and tried to peek to the side under my arm. I was already aware that my butt was pointing even higher now and my vulva was fully exposed.

But that's how I could see his hand moving back and forth in his pants pocket. His breathing was getting faster and faster, and the rhythm of the slaps was becoming increasingly uncontrolled. Most likely, his eyes were fixed on my slit, which was presenting itself so invitingly before him.

His hand in his pants pocket moved faster and faster until a stifled groan signaled to me that he had just jerked off into his underwear.

A short time later, my father told me in a hoarse voice to get dressed and quickly left the kitchen.

This experience left its mark on me, too. My secret observation gave me a special tingling sensation and a rising warmth between my legs. I brought a hand to my slightly parted slit and realized I was completely wet.

That summer, I'd celebrated my 19th birthday--well, "celebrated" is an exaggeration; I wasn't allowed to invite anyone. Not even my classmate, with whom I was occasionally allowed to study for upcoming exams. No one really knew exactly what family life was like in our household.

A few days later, my aunt--my mother's sister--came to visit and help my mother out. My father was away on business in another city for an extended period. I got along pretty well with my aunt; I could talk to her about all sorts of things and felt comfortable around her.

Still, her basic approach to parenting was much the same as my parents'. Physical punishment was part of it.

One Wednesday, while my mother was still at work, we were setting the coffee table. We were going to have some delicious crumb cake. The table was set--all that was missing was one plate.

Just as I was about to place the last plate on the table, I tripped over a small crease in the carpet, lost my balance, and dropped the plate. It crashed to the floor and shattered.

My aunt looked at me reproachfully.

"You know what this means, don't you?" she asked. "Your mother described to me exactly how to handle a situation like this."

I nodded and walked into the kitchen with my head down. There, I stopped in front of the kitchen table and stood motionless.

"Take your clothes off," my aunt ordered with a serious expression.

I took off my short dress and looked at my aunt questioningly.

"Take everything off until you're naked!"

"But I've never had to do that before..."

"You have today," my aunt interrupted me. "You're going to undress now and take your position. Just as is expected of you!"

Obediently, I followed the instruction. Once I'd taken off the few items of clothing I was wearing--it was summer and quite warm--I turned around, bent over, and spread my legs the way I'd been told to do lately.

My aunt stepped up beside me, took a swing, and landed the first slap on my bottom. It wasn't very hard--almost tentative. The second followed, not much harder either. I felt only a slight burning sensation on my skin.

I waited for the next slap, but it didn't come. Instead, I felt my aunt dripping baby oil onto my buttocks. I have no idea where she suddenly got it from. She spread the oil evenly over my bottom, massaging it well into my skin. Then one hand rested on my bottom and gently pulled my butt cheeks apart; I felt her warm breath on my skin. Again, I felt oil running down my bottom, but this time a little more, and directly onto my tender little hole. I flinched.

My aunt's warm hand rested on my butt, spreading the oil again and now focusing more on the area between my butt cheeks. She slowly moved her fingers back and forth, circling my anus and making sure the oil was well distributed.

There was something soothing about this unfamiliar treatment of my butt. I felt more relaxed than anxious. I had to admit to myself that the stimulation in my anal area wasn't unpleasant. It was actually arousing.

With cautious movements, my aunt's hand glided over my buttocks, deeper between my thighs. Instinctively, I spread my legs even wider, allowing her to tenderly reach her goal. She skillfully caressed my labia, which, slightly swollen, were receptive to her touch.

Just as I had done with my father back then, I leaned forward further until my butt was pointing upward almost obscenely and my vulva was exposed, wet and glistening.

But this also allowed me to see how my aunt's other hand made its way under her skirt and finally found what it was looking for between her thighs. I watched her movements, heard her breathing, and felt her fingers at the entrance to my innermost self. Two fingers parted my labia, while her thumb circled my clitoris, coating it with moisture. With light pressure, she stroked the hard bud, giving me sensations I'd never imagined.

Never before had a stranger's hand touched me there and aroused me as much as it did in that moment.

The two fingers slid through my wetness into my vagina. Not too far--she didn't want to break my hymen--but far enough to be able to move her fingers in and out. What a sensation, what an experience!

Suddenly, I felt my aunt's other hand on my breasts. They were damp, slightly sticky, and gave off an unfamiliar scent. She cupped my small breasts, caressing them until my nipples stood up and grew stiff. I didn't know what to focus on--my breasts or what was happening between my thighs. I just felt the tingling inside me growing more intense, and the heat of desire taking over my entire body.

The fingers inside me moved faster and faster, in and out and in again. I could feel it!

My aunt leaned toward me and whispered just one word: "Come!" She pressed herself against me, rubbed her crotch against my bare hip, and moaned in my ear.

And then it happened--the pent-up, lustful arousal unleashed itself inside my body! Amid a loud moan and cry, I experienced an orgasm I could never have imagined. Waves of pleasure coursed through my body--it just wouldn't stop. My wetness gushed out of me and ran down my thighs.

With weak knees, I slowly came to my senses.

With a mischievous smile, my aunt looked at me, "This had better stay between us--our little secret."

I could only nod contentedly. After a while, I grabbed my things and disappeared into the bathroom. My aunt had to change her panties.

Later, when my mother came home, we enjoyed a leisurely cup of coffee, ate our cake, and chatted casually. My mother didn't notice the satisfied look on my face.

What had happened remained our well-kept secret, but it happened again whenever we had the chance.

When I think about it now, years later, a smile spreads across my face and a hand slips between my thighs. That makes the memory even more intense!