Portrait of a Disciplinarian by Aishling Morgan

Lettice’s voice from directly behind her.
    A bony hand closed on Stephanie’s wrist even before she could turn around. One sharp jerk, and her arm was twisted into the small of her back; another, and she was pulled down across her aunt’s knee on the chair she had vacated before, bottom up, then bottom bare as the blue summer dress and the light, silk drawers she had changed into before lunch were flipped up and down respectively.
    Stephanie was facing Hermione and caught her sister’s expression of shock and pity a moment before the spanking began, so hard and fast that she immediately lost control, thrashing in her aunt’s grip and kicking her legs wildly about in her half-dropped drawers as the slaps rained down on her defenceless cheeks. It never even occurred to her to protest or try and beg off the punishment, because she knew it was hopeless. At first Aunt Lettice seemed to be too angry even to speak, and she did not find her voice until Stephanie’s bottom was hot and pink all over.
    ‘Disgusting!’ she snapped. ‘To use gutter language, and in front of your little sister! Disgusting! Disgusting! Disgusting!’
    With each word she planted a fresh smack on Stephanie’s glowing bottom, delivered full across both cheeks, a hard, methodical punishment that quickly turned to faster smacks as her temper overcame her once more. Stephanie burst into tears, blubbering uncontrollably across her aunt’s knee with her hair in wild disarray and snot running from her nose. The stinging pain in her bottom was so severe that she could not keep her thighs together and avoid showing off her quim from behind.
    ‘Disgusting little brat,’ Aunt Lettice raved, still belabouring Stephanie’s bottom with every ounce of her strength. ‘To think that you could say such words … that you could even know such words! And as for …’
    Her words were lost in another barrage of furious smacks that sent Stephanie into a full-blown, helpless tantrum. Her thighs pumped furiously in her pain and her bottom bucked up and down, showing off not just her quim but her bottom hole too. The display only served to encourage her aunt, who began to smack the backs of Stephanie’s thighs, which hurt even more. Then she stopped, as suddenly as she had begun.
    Stephanie collapsed across her aunt’s lap, panting, her head down, snot hanging from the tip of her nose, her legs spread as far as her drawers would permit, her exposed quim and bottom slit strangely cool between her blazing cheeks and heated thighs. Relief that it was over began to well up, until her aunt spoke.
    ‘I do beg your pardon, Gertrude, Mr Attwater, but I have had to spank Stephanie and she is being rather noisy about it.’
    Twisting violently round, Stephanie gaped in horror. In the doorway was her Aunt Gertrude, and she was not alone. A man stood beside her, a tall, solidly built man, who managed to project an air of pompous superiority even as he stared in open astonishment at her exposed rear. Aunt Lettice released Stephanie’s wrist. Taken by surprise, she tumbled on to the floor, to lie for a moment with her legs splayed and any detail of her quim that the spectators might have missed while she was bottom up now available for inspection between her open thighs.
    Immediately she jumped up, clutching her drawers, but tripped over them and sprawled forwards, straight into the arms of the man. He caught her, ducking down as he did so, and for an instant his hand cupped one hot bottom cheek before he hauled her up and set her on her feet.
    ‘Go straight to your bedroom, Stephanie,’ Aunt Lettice ordered.
    Stephanie didn’t need to be told. She ran, clutching her hot bottom, tears streaming down her face, her drawers flapping around one ankle, only to come off completely halfway up the stairs. She didn’t bother to retrieve them, too full of embarrassment and self-pity to care. Once she was safely inside the Blue Room she slammed the door behind her and was about to