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| "Time for cake and birthday spankies, sweetie!" |
A big thank-you to all who took the time to send in an entry; I appreciated and enjoyed every single one.
With Emily's permission, I have posted her entry below. As I said, I enjoyed every contribution I was sent, however Emily's "extra mile" of effort and evil creativity is what made her the winner.
As for her requested prize (a custom artwork by me)? Well, I received an additional 'gift' from Emily the other day on notifying her of her win... an unexpected (but admittedly well-deserved) ear-burning scolding and telling-off for being so lapse in my blog updates of late!
Thus, she has told me that her prize should be an artwork made to her specifications... depicting me receiving a severe punishment spanking from her! Gulp!!! She made it clear that this was not to be a "sexy" spanking... no, this was a punishment for my procrastination and laziness!
Emily also wanted to make it clear that this 'virtual' spanking was for letting you all down and not posting more often. She's right, of course. While I genuinely appreciate all my fans and friends here who post comments, send emails, and support what I do, I don't always show that appreciation by keeping in touch or posting updates. For that, I'm sorry.
Though if Emily had her way, I'd be much more sorry, it seems!
For now, though, I'm honored to present Emily's short story. I hope you all enjoy reading it, and trust you will agree with me on how hot and absolutely awesome it is!
Banjo's Birthday Spanking
By Emily
Banjo had lived with his Aunt Emily for twelve years and thirteen birthdays now, having first joined her in her square little postwar tract house in a blustery late September just before his twelfth birthday. He knew, intellectually, that it was shameful for a man his age to still be living "at home" with the only stable parent figure he'd ever known, but considering the economy and… certain other matters, it was perhaps the least shameful aspect of his lifestyle.
Now, as the morning of his fourteenth birthday in her house broke, he knew all too well what was coming. His birthday spankings were the most predictable aspect of the regimen of corporal punishment with which he had been raised since turning twelve. Those he could see coming a year in advance, whereas the vagaries of his own behavior and his aunt's peculiar tastes were less subject to augury.
As his eyes opened and he looked up at the gray light of an overcast morning filtering into his bedroom, he knew exactly what he could expect in a couple of hours. When she got up, his aunt would make a big fuss over cooking him a big breakfast, which was part of the good bit. Her hash browns were legitimately excellent, and she had a knack for cooking bacon in the oven rather than a frying pan, so it came out with the perfect balance of chewy and crisp.
He would undoubtedly be receiving presents, which were less reliably pleasant. His aunt had enough money to buy quality, and had, in and of herself, excellent taste, but she tended to buy gifts less for his taste than for her own. When she bought him clothing, it was because she liked how he looked in it, and most of the books she bought him were ones she felt would improve him in some way, not ones he would have picked to read for pleasure. A lot of those turned out to be pretty good books anyway, but the principle remained.
Later, for lunch or dinner as the day's schedule dictated, there would be cake. Aunt Emily had acknowledged years ago that her pastry skills were not the equal of her gift for breakfasts, so the cake would be ordered from one of a few local bakeries, and would have twenty-five (twenty-five!) candles neatly arranged on it. It would be rich and chocolaty and, by the time he got to eat any of it, salty with tears, as they ran down his cheeks and into his mouth as he ate. Fortunately, a little salt usually went well with chocolate.
The cake would be brought out, candles blazing, and he would blow them out and make a wish. Before the cake would be cut, though, and before any presents would be opened, there would be the birthday spanking. Always and without exception, there would be the spanking.
The first one, when he was new to her house, had been over his pants, but all of them since then had been on the bare. As she pointed out, it would feel a bit silly to spank him bare three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year (and sometimes it came darn close to that total) and then pretend to blushingly spare his modesty just because it happened to be October 2nd.
The pretense that this was merely an amusing birthday ritual had been long abandoned; the audience meant to laugh at the comically childish display was never present, the spanking taking place only when the two of them were alone. It would have been disturbingly odd, regardless, for Banjo to be spanked on his bare bottom before such an audience, and Aunt Emily was all too punctilious about offering no reason for any outside observer to doubt the nature of the relationship between the kindly aunt and the rather vaguely-defined nephew she had taken in.
Her birthday spankings were as punctiliously authoritative as her public persona, but with a complex and ever-shifting set of rules. Officially, of course, his spanking would just be his age (twenty-bloody-five!) in strokes plus one to grow on. More than that would be unfair, and Aunt Emily was never unfair.
Of course, there were conditions.
If he were hard when she took down his underwear, that was an extra thirty strokes for being such a dirty boy as to be aroused by his loving aunt. If he weren't hard, that was an extra ten strokes for not thinking she was beautiful. If he failed to become hard when she took his cock in hand and stroked it, that was an extra fifty strokes for insulting her. If he failed to express his utter and abject gratitude at every stage of the proceedings, failed to tell her how thankful he was that she should discipline him so well and show him such fun on his birthday, well, that would lead to much more severe punishment. If he failed to ejaculate when ordered to, inside her mouth or her other regions, that could lead to a week or more of remedial obedience training. Between all of the complex conditions Aunt Emily set, Banjo had never once received his actual age, or his age plus one, in spanks on his birthday. Not once since he was twelve years old.
Now, thinking about what was to come, he found his penis an iron bar against his lower belly, his regular morning wood stiffened beyond belief by his reflection on the spanking he knew was coming at his aunt's hands. Lying there in the gray morning light, he carefully calculated odds. If he ejaculated now, that would reduce the chances that he would be hard in front of her, which would save him thirty strokes. If, however, she detected signs of masturbation on his underwear, that would mean many more than thirty strokes in punishment. If, god forbid, both happened and he both got hard and she saw he had been playing with himself, it would mean regulated punishment spankings for days, each of which would leave him in tears and begging forgiveness.
Carefully and with full knowledge aforethought, Banjo took himself in hand and proceeded to reconfirm his status as a naughty, disobedient little boy.
By Emily
Banjo had lived with his Aunt Emily for twelve years and thirteen birthdays now, having first joined her in her square little postwar tract house in a blustery late September just before his twelfth birthday. He knew, intellectually, that it was shameful for a man his age to still be living "at home" with the only stable parent figure he'd ever known, but considering the economy and… certain other matters, it was perhaps the least shameful aspect of his lifestyle.
Now, as the morning of his fourteenth birthday in her house broke, he knew all too well what was coming. His birthday spankings were the most predictable aspect of the regimen of corporal punishment with which he had been raised since turning twelve. Those he could see coming a year in advance, whereas the vagaries of his own behavior and his aunt's peculiar tastes were less subject to augury.
As his eyes opened and he looked up at the gray light of an overcast morning filtering into his bedroom, he knew exactly what he could expect in a couple of hours. When she got up, his aunt would make a big fuss over cooking him a big breakfast, which was part of the good bit. Her hash browns were legitimately excellent, and she had a knack for cooking bacon in the oven rather than a frying pan, so it came out with the perfect balance of chewy and crisp.
He would undoubtedly be receiving presents, which were less reliably pleasant. His aunt had enough money to buy quality, and had, in and of herself, excellent taste, but she tended to buy gifts less for his taste than for her own. When she bought him clothing, it was because she liked how he looked in it, and most of the books she bought him were ones she felt would improve him in some way, not ones he would have picked to read for pleasure. A lot of those turned out to be pretty good books anyway, but the principle remained.
Later, for lunch or dinner as the day's schedule dictated, there would be cake. Aunt Emily had acknowledged years ago that her pastry skills were not the equal of her gift for breakfasts, so the cake would be ordered from one of a few local bakeries, and would have twenty-five (twenty-five!) candles neatly arranged on it. It would be rich and chocolaty and, by the time he got to eat any of it, salty with tears, as they ran down his cheeks and into his mouth as he ate. Fortunately, a little salt usually went well with chocolate.
The cake would be brought out, candles blazing, and he would blow them out and make a wish. Before the cake would be cut, though, and before any presents would be opened, there would be the birthday spanking. Always and without exception, there would be the spanking.
The first one, when he was new to her house, had been over his pants, but all of them since then had been on the bare. As she pointed out, it would feel a bit silly to spank him bare three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year (and sometimes it came darn close to that total) and then pretend to blushingly spare his modesty just because it happened to be October 2nd.
The pretense that this was merely an amusing birthday ritual had been long abandoned; the audience meant to laugh at the comically childish display was never present, the spanking taking place only when the two of them were alone. It would have been disturbingly odd, regardless, for Banjo to be spanked on his bare bottom before such an audience, and Aunt Emily was all too punctilious about offering no reason for any outside observer to doubt the nature of the relationship between the kindly aunt and the rather vaguely-defined nephew she had taken in.
Her birthday spankings were as punctiliously authoritative as her public persona, but with a complex and ever-shifting set of rules. Officially, of course, his spanking would just be his age (twenty-bloody-five!) in strokes plus one to grow on. More than that would be unfair, and Aunt Emily was never unfair.
Of course, there were conditions.
If he were hard when she took down his underwear, that was an extra thirty strokes for being such a dirty boy as to be aroused by his loving aunt. If he weren't hard, that was an extra ten strokes for not thinking she was beautiful. If he failed to become hard when she took his cock in hand and stroked it, that was an extra fifty strokes for insulting her. If he failed to express his utter and abject gratitude at every stage of the proceedings, failed to tell her how thankful he was that she should discipline him so well and show him such fun on his birthday, well, that would lead to much more severe punishment. If he failed to ejaculate when ordered to, inside her mouth or her other regions, that could lead to a week or more of remedial obedience training. Between all of the complex conditions Aunt Emily set, Banjo had never once received his actual age, or his age plus one, in spanks on his birthday. Not once since he was twelve years old.
Now, thinking about what was to come, he found his penis an iron bar against his lower belly, his regular morning wood stiffened beyond belief by his reflection on the spanking he knew was coming at his aunt's hands. Lying there in the gray morning light, he carefully calculated odds. If he ejaculated now, that would reduce the chances that he would be hard in front of her, which would save him thirty strokes. If, however, she detected signs of masturbation on his underwear, that would mean many more than thirty strokes in punishment. If, god forbid, both happened and he both got hard and she saw he had been playing with himself, it would mean regulated punishment spankings for days, each of which would leave him in tears and begging forgiveness.
Carefully and with full knowledge aforethought, Banjo took himself in hand and proceeded to reconfirm his status as a naughty, disobedient little boy.
Phew! I'm sure you can see why I selected Emily's entry as the winner of the competition!
Thanks again to everyone who entered the competition and sent me such fun, inventive entries. I will be posting some (those the senders gave me permission) of them here on the blog, for everyone to enjoy.
Right now, I need to get to work on Emily's prize... there's a spanking with my name on it!
I'm touched and honored to have won, thank you.
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm looking forward to seeing my prize sometime before your NEXT birthday, so get on it, young man. Two months gone already. ;)
Congratulations Emily. You are a worthy winner.
ReplyDeleteJoerg
Hmmmm... Good start so far. Can't wait to see the artwork. ;-)
ReplyDeletesmuccatelli
Congratulations to the winner! 'Aunt Emily's' prose has muscle - as strong, no doubt, as her spanking arm. Poor Banjo is indeed in evil hands, here!
ReplyDeleteCongratulations Emily. You are obviously a women after my own heart.
ReplyDeleteHaving read Emily's comments in this blog I knew even before reading her story you had made the right choice. After reading the story all I can say is...I'm going to back and read it again :)
ReplyDeleteVery well done Ms Emily Ma'am.
marrk
Hmmmm, this certainly is an interesting and unusual 'aunt-nephew' relationship, and it's obviously not only financial issues that have kept Banjo living with Aunt Emily into his young adulthood.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like the birthday spanking could easily end up being three or four times as long as the nominal twenty-five 'plus one to grow on,' and they won't be playful love-pats either.
Does his birthday cake truly taste better to a guy after he's been soundly bare-bottom paddled to tears by a loving female disciplinarian? IMHO of course it does--but then again so does any other food... --C.K.
I'm late but I'd like to congratulate the winner too. Are there any more stories by Emily available somewhere?
ReplyDeleteCongrats Emily and can't wait to see your "punishment spanking" from Emily Banjo and I do hope it is done before your birthday next year *glares*
ReplyDelete"his aunt's peculiar tastes were less subject to augury."
ReplyDeletewow, if Ms. Emily scolds as well as she writes...
congratulations on a well-deserved win!
John S. MacLeod