A fantasy come true for myself, Miss Moneypenny and the Girl

She wanted us to behave as if we were her strict British Aunts, she said. She wanted to be humiliated and treated like a little girl, spanked and dressed in frilly ankle socks and cute clothes, then bossed around and taught a lesson. 

Miss Moneypenny was quite excited by the session booking. I was ‘training’ her in the dark arts of spanking and discipline- my friend had a natural disposition for dominance and kinkiness. Other friends had tried to persuade me to train them as spankers, seeing how much I could charge per hour, (and having no concept of the administrative and emotional work, not to mention marketing, training and so on. But when you look at someone you can tell whether they can do this or not. One colleague who expressed an interest I invited round and demonstrated all about spanking, using my nephew as the willing bottom. She talked too much, way too much: chatter chatter, on and on she droned, taking up all the oxygen in the room, meanwhile ignoring him as if he didn’t exist, was merely a haunch of ham to smack repeatedly. In her first ever spanking session she tried to hold court, as if she knew everything about it already. Mind you, she was like that at our vanilla job as well. Another friend has nothing kinky about her, had never even tried spanking, and lived way out of London, where she would be unable to come and work with me, specially at short notice, but she wanted to earn more money, and she was quite insistent she join me in sessions to learn. Nope. Miss Moneypenny, on the other hand, always had a glint in her eye, and though she was petite, she was feisty. So when I offered her training and payment to join me in double spanking sessions, she was keen to learn, and took to it like a duck to water. Splish, splash…

We waited eagerly for the day to come, when our (rare) booking from a woman would take place. A young Arab girl visiting London. She had searched for this back home, and there was nothing like this on offer. She needed it. She really craved discipline, and specifically, to be treated like a girl as part of the immersive role play. She wanted us to ‘babysit’ her, to look after her, but be very stern at the same time. I could see Miss Moneypenny almost licking her paws and purring whenever we spoke about the upcoming visit. 

‘I hope she’s cute.’

‘Look,’ I warned her, ‘She might not be, you just can’t bank on that, but here’s hoping. We’ll enjoy it anyway. What a treat.’

The day arrived. I had laid out some short frilly bloomers, champagne-coloured, high-waisted with frills like burlesque can-can panties. Ankle socks with a lacy trim, a sheer, wispy blouse with a Peter Pan collar. As we waited for the doorbell to ring we paced the study, which we had transformed into a ‘littles’ bedroom, with the single bed, pillows and cushions, teddy bears, girlish props around the room and soft lighting. Stiff and formal in our high-necked blouses, pencil skirts, stockings and heels. Lipsticked mouths, hair set, backs straight. When the buzzer went I peered out of the study window- one of the benefits of my apartment- you can quickly check who is at the gate before you buzz them in, or if you rush back fast enough after buzzing the gate open, you get a glimpse of who is coming across the courtyard. I couldn’t be sure, but she looked tiny, and pretty. When I opened the front door I thought,

She’s like a little dolly. She’s so perfect. She was blushing and scuffing the toes of her shoes with impatience or nerves.

‘Come in. Your Aunt Moneypenny is in the living room. Come with me.’

The girl followed me into the living room, and smiled nervously, and stretched out her hand to shake hands with Miss Moneypenny, whose eyes illuminated like gas lamps flaring, as she took a step forward, smiling wickedly.

‘Hello there.’

We began the session by instructing her to change into the ‘little girl’ clothes we had prepared for her. This is part of your discipline, we informed her. If you insist on behaving like a little girl then we will treat you as one. You will be punished in a special outfit that will be very embarrassing for you. But you must wear it, because we say so, and we are in charge. She nodded and smiled shyly as I handed the clothing over, and Miss Monepypenny and I stood impassively watching, hands clasped in front of us like queens, while she took off her street clothes and pulled on her bloomers and ankle socks. She turned away but she did not ask to leave the room to take off her top or her bra. Of course, little girls don’t wear bras, do they? 

Miss Moneypenny and I glanced at each other as she completed her transformation. This polished young lady, evidently from a wealthy background, was now a young girl with bare legs, in frilly knickers, with her nipples just visible through the fabric of her blouse.

‘I am going to put your hair in bunches.’ I told her, and went to fetch the hair brush, bands and ribbons. When I came back Miss Moneypenny had her sitting on a chair, and was lecturing her quietly. 

Once her hair was in bunches she looked even cuter. She smiled as I tied the ribbons, and pulled and tugged at her bunches, and she shivered with pleasure at being handled and dressed, and turned into our living doll. Her Aunts’ little darling. 

I told her,

‘I want you to curtsey and introduce yourself properly now, and apologise to your aunts for your bad behaviour. Then you will ask us to punish you and discipline you, because it is what you deserve.’

She nodded demurely, and repeated my instructions in a breathy voice, her chest rising and falling in the sheer blouse. She seemed excited- I would even say thrilled. The feeling was mutual. The air in the living room was thick with tension and anticipation- you could have sliced it with a knife, cutting it down the middle like a big sugary, indulgent piece of pie. 

‘We are going to take you into the study now, and we will both smack your bottom, because you have been a very naughty girl. I must insist you do as you are told, and not give either of your Aunts any trouble. I warn you- Miss Moneypenny is as strict as I am, and will not have any nonsense, do you understand me?’

‘Oh yes, Aunt. I promise I’ll be good.’

‘You had better be.’ Miss Moneypenny tipped the girl’s chin with her finger, and looked into the girl’s eyes, which must have been whirling like Kaleidoscope flowers. 

‘Otherwise I will spank you really hard. None of your silliness now. It’s time to learn your lesson.’

I could hear the girl swallow and her breathing quicken. 

‘So, we are going through to the study.’ 

Miss Moneypenny and I took a step toward the door.

‘Ah! Not you-‘ I stopped, and glared at her, ‘little girls who have been naughty must get on their hands and knees and crawl with us. Come along.’

Miss Moneypenny glanced at me, almost concerned that I had gone too far, but the girl sank to her knees gladly, and crawled between us, her hips swaying, her little pert bottom listing from side to side.

I could not describe the body of the session because it was so intense, and such a dreamy, perfect fantasy, that I cannot recall all the details. I remember catching Miss Moneypenny’s eye as the girl obediently lowered her bloomers for us, revealing her perfect bottom. As she touched her toes, and laid herself over the school desk, and as she gazed up at us, eyes brimming with pleasure, giving herself to us, to the experience. I remember her being across my knee on the bed, with her head in Miss Moneypenny’s lap, while I smacked her bottom hard, and my friend held her head still, her hands twisted in her hair. The girl’s fingers clutched my stockinged leg, a fist full of bedsheets, Miss Moneypenny’s tweed skirt. She writhed and moaned, clearly excited, falling deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of submission. 

‘I want you to be my Aunts, I want to stay here and be your good girl for ever!’ She sighed, as she draped herself across our laps, her cheeks glowing hotly.

‘We would love that too.’ Miss M and I agreed, sincerely, though knowing she’d be gone in an hour’s time, thanking our lucky stars we had been granted this delicious experience, while knowing it was transient.

‘We would make you such a good girl. You’d never be naughty again, because now you know what happens when you misbehave.’

‘I want to stay here for ever…’ she whispered again, burying her face in my lap. I felt warm tears, and her soft cheeks against my thigh. She raised her bottom higher, willing Miss M to hit her harder, and I saw my friend bite her lip and raise her eyebrows at the view, as she brought her hand down again and again. 

Afterwards, before she called her driver to come and collect her, we gave her the champagne bloomers to take home with her as a gift- after all, who was going to look so cute in them? But of course the best gift was something no-one could ever take from her, and she could carry with her wherever she went for the rest of her life. The memory of coming to London and meeting her strict aunts. The memory of her first, perfect double discipline session at the hands of two experienced, stern, older women, in a purely domestic setting. Those moments- how it felt when I first opened the door, when she shook Miss Moneypenny’s hand, when we made her undress in front of us, the feeling of pulling on her frilled ankle socks and her babyish bloomers, how she felt when I made her crawl to the study between us, our heels clicking either side of her, how she felt when we made her bend over and count strokes, the first time we took her over our knee, those first spanks, those tender caresses on her flushed forehead as we told her to behave, and rained down smacks on her poor bottom. The feel of our nails sinking into her arm as we held her down and thrashed her. The look in our eyes as we ordered her to apologise, and promise never to be naughty again. The feeling of being taken in hand, guided, indulged, treated exactly the way you want to be treated, with no judgment, only understanding and mutual enjoyment. The feeling that for once, she had fantasised about something, asked for it and she got it, as if delivered from the department store of soft, quality erotic dreams, exactly as she had hoped for. And so did we.