Aunties Slippers ~ Slippers,Slipperings,Full collar,Half collar,Fluffy mules,traditional slippers

Spanked to Tears
A Mario story by Mario F/M hand, slipper and Hair Brush

Just over a week ago I received an email from my aunt asking me to come visit her. The tone of the email left me in no doubt I was in serious trouble. Ever since moving to the UK 12 years ago I for the first time had free reign to do as I pleased without answering to my mom for everything I did. I suppose I really should be ashamed to admit that, I, a middle aged man was subject to maternal discipline in the form of a bare assed bum burning spanking from my mom.
For those new readers let me tell you about my mom. Her name is Marta Van Rensburg and she is beautiful. Her red hair now going grey is long and well kept. Her figure would put a thirty year old to shame and unashamedly I love her.
I met mom for the first time when I was 14 years old, my birth parents moved to the coast and my mother knowing that they would no longer be able to look after me basically left me with mom who at first looked after me as my guardian. The following year mom became my foster mother and at the age of 18 my mom legally adopted me.
Over the years mom has loved me and disciplined me. She instinctively knew my needs for regular loving maternal discipline. My two brothers David and Grant outgrew this need but I for some reason have needed this type of care. I know mom would not hesitate to spank either or both my brothers if she felt the need.
The last spanking I got from mom was a doozy, I had screwed up my car insurance and got pulled over by the police, my car was impounded and both my wife and I along with my mom had to find alternate means of getting home. Not only did it cost me about £300 but I got a bare assed blistering like I had not had in many a year. The story of that spanking is found in “The Drive Home”.
Now as to how I found myself being summoned by my aunt, it is quite a story; my wife was extremely reluctant to take over the mantle and after trying a few times gave up spanking me. For a long time I searched for someone to take over my discipline needs to no avail. To compound matters my general behaviour without the regular discipline began to slip. Then I met my “aunt” and my rear has paid the price ever since.
I have to see her every month and about two weeks before I see aunty she enquires as to my general behaviour and although she herself has not let on I suspect she has insider information as aunty finds out things I desperately try to keep quiet about. I have thought that somehow aunty has made contact with mom in South Africa.
This last email clinched it for me, about 6 weeks ago I had told mom I was finding it difficult to eat more than once a day as I was simply too full after a meal to want anything in a couple of hours. This has not helped my sugar levels any. As a type 2 diabetic I lost the battle to control the sugar levels in my blood and for the last 6 years have been on medication. It is a real struggle to manage the medication and after much struggle I simply neglected the regime.
Aunty got wind of this and promised me I would regret not taking my medication properly, she exacted a promise from me the very first time I went over her knees that I would at all times tell her the truth. So when she innocently asked how many days I had not had my tablets this last month I told her; “Four days aunty, but...” She cut me off and asked me, “Do you remember what I said the last time we had this conversation?”
“ Yes Ma’am I do” I replied, knowing in my heart I was in deep trouble.
I tried to explain that those days; I had only one meal as I felt too bloated to eat.
“ Mario” she told me, “I do not want to hear any excuses, now what did I tell you would happen to you if we had this conversation again?”
“ I would get a hairbrush spanking with your ebony brush Ma’am” I replied.
“ I will see you on Monday morning then, do not try cancel or be late, do you understand?”
I tried pleading with her only to be told that I was in enough trouble as it is and that I should concentrate my efforts on thinking why I was in so much trouble and not trying to wheedle my way out of a deserved spanking.
Monday morning dawned cold and miserable, it was raining and dull and grey. I took mama to work and on returning home tried to prepare for the coming ordeal. Eventually long before the allotted time I turned into the driveway and parked my car. I rang the door bell and waited my mind thinking “...and the condemned man ate a hearty meal...”
Aunty opened the door and ushered me into the hall way, I followed her into the kitchen where she made me a cup of tea. Aunty had a pair of knee high suede boots on. The two inch heels click clacking on the tile floor. Mom always put high heels on when she spanked me and I used to listen to her footsteps while I stood hands on my head my nose buried in the corner contemplating my sins.
My mind awash with memories and sensations as I listened to the sound of aunties heels reverberating on the tiled floor.
Handing me a steaming cup of tea aunty invited me to sit down, commenting on the fact I would not be able to sit soon and I should do so while I could.
Finally I was ordered to stand next to her right knee and the dreaded interrogation began. I think aunty knew how much I hated this as she began to illicit answers from me, questions designed to force me to answer, knowing there was only one correct answer.
In my mind I began to think; “come on just stop these questions, do you have to drag this out I know I’m in the shit, just start spanking me....”
Finally aunty gave me the order I had been waiting for; “come over my knee, let‘s get comfortable”.
Once I was draped over the maternal knee aunty began to spank, hard!
Even through my denims I could feel them, until aunty said, “You are not feeling this, these clothes are shielding your bottom too much, let’s have them down. In fact take them off completely, your shoes as well. Come on be quick now.”
I took off the offending clothing and once again found myself sunny side up as aunty began again, this time the spanks stung more and again I was amazed at how hard my aunty could spank using just her hand. This went on for about a minute then aunty proceeded to bare the field of fire commenting on how pink the area was. “It is not red though and I want it red”, this said while her strong right hand lit a small fire that quickly turned into a raging bushfire.
Again she stopped and then she told me to fetch the red slipper on the other couch along with 4 hair brushes. After positioning me over her knee aunty began to sear my bottom like never before, by the fifth spank my right hand tried to stop the onslaught but was quickly captured and held where it could not interfere. My gasps and ouches quickly changed to real cries of distress as aunty painted a picture of bright hues of red with smudges of indigo and light purples. Then she stopped, told me to get up and gave me permission to rub my very sore butt.
As she sat back down on her favourite stool, instead of the couch she asked me if I knew why there were four hair brushes on the couch.
“ Yes aunty, there are four brushes because you are going to spank me with them, a different brush for each day I did not take my tablets”
“ Good boy now stop rubbing and get over my knee again”.
I hastily complied and soon found myself looking at the carpet as once again aunty started spanking me. At first aunty laid in a salvo of very rapid, very hard hand spanks, As soon as she got a reaction on a particular area she immediately concentrated on this area for a while. When she began to concentrate on my sit spots I started howling and soon real tears began to pool on the carpet. After about two or three minutes of this intense hand spanking I had to hand aunty the first of the four brushes. The brush was a bit small and to be truthful did not have an effect. I know aunty realised this because she quickly upgraded to a bigger, heavier brush. This one stung quite a lot but it wasn’t until the third brush came into play that I began to suffer real pain. Of my own accord I began to kick my legs and stamp my feet on the carpet. Aunty stopped spanking, giving my aching bottom a breather.
“ Why are you stamping your feet, does it alleviate the pain in your red bottom?” She began to rub my bottom and then realized that she had not finished spanking me. WHACK; CRACK the hardest spanks of the morning landed, low down near my sit spot. I arched my back and cried out in pain as this fresh salvo re-lit the fire in my bottom.
By now pleas for mercy and promises of obedience issued forth from my mouth in a continual stream. Aunty stopped spanking me and then told me to hand her the final brush. Paddle shaped, about 3” wide, the business end about 4” long and about 3/8” thick, this brush is a weapon of ass destruction. The first spank with this fearsome brush sent me straight to spankland, that place where mommies and aunties sent little boys to show them that it does not pay to be naughty. For me I was no longer aware of my surroundings, the centre of my world was my sore bottom and the brush that so effectively punished it.
I was not aware that my ass was no longer being spanked. When I entered spankland I submitted fully to auntie’s punishment, she kept me there long enough to make me believe I would never leave then she stopped the blows and it was over. I had been forgiven; the hugs and the love given afterwards confirmed that fact.
“ Mario before you go home, know this, if I hear you have not taken your medicine again this month you will get a spanking that will make this one seem like nothing.” Brandishing her ebony brush in front of me aunty continued, “This brush will make sure you never disobey me again.”