Feeling sick

I was six and a half years old when my parents went to Florida to visit a sick member of the family. They left me with ‘Aunt Rachel’, a family friend I had never met. She seemed to like kids and was nice enough, and for the first few days we got along well. She made cookies and brownies and always had my favourite fruit drink in the fridge.

However, on the day we were supposed to go to some sort of festival in town, I woke up feeling sick and promptly threw up once I got downstairs –on the expensive living room rug.

Aunt Rachel heard my gagging and bolted into the room, crying out at the sight of the mess on the carpet. I was sprawled on the floor, crying and clutching my stomach, and she stepped over me and crouched down.

“My carpet!” she exclaimed. “My beautiful carpet!” She turned to me, her eyes glowing with anger. “Jenna – why didn’t you run to the bathroom?!”

I couldn’t answer her, just lay there in tears.

“You ruined my brand new…” She trailed off, speechless, then grabbed my wrist and roughly yanked me up. “Go to your room!” she ordered, swatting my behind a few times as she shoved me forward. “Wait for me there!”

I obeyed, flying up the stairs. My bottom hurt when I crawled into bed. I lay there, clutching Aunt Rachel’s scratchy woollen blanket, wishing my mommy was there to hug me and give me a cold compress for my burning forehead.

An eternity later, the door swung open and Aunt Rachel entered the room. I bit my lower lip nervously; she still looked annoyed.

“Jenna,” she said as she sat down at the foot of my bed, “I didn’t mean to get so mad but if you felt like you were going to get sick, you should have gone to the bathroom. Thank goodness for you, the mess is clean. And now…”

And that’s when I saw it. The thin thermometer case. She brought it out from behind her back and slid the thermometer out. “Let’s see just how sick you really are.”

I sat up a little straighter, glad she wasn’t angry anymore, and opened my mouth, waiting for her to slide the thermometer under my tongue. She gave a little laugh. “No, no, on your back, honey…”

Puzzled, I slid down onto my back as she pulled the blanket away and began tugging at my pyjama shorts. I tried to sit up but she pushed me down. “Stop it, Jenna!”

I tried pushing her hands away but she pinned my arms down and proceeded to yank my shorts and panties off. By this time, I was kicking and squirming and she turned me over and gave me a sharp slap on my bottom. I quietened down for a second until she grasped my ankles and lifted my legs in the air as though she were about to change my diaper. I screamed as I felt something cold slide against my cheeks and flailed my legs as hard as I could.

One of my feet connected with Aunt Rachel’s body and she let me go as she cried out in pain. I scrambled off the bed, naked from the waist down, and started towards the door. Within seconds, she had recovered and caught up with me; she lifted me up and plopped down on the bed, draping me over her lap and pinning my legs and arms down.


I remember the pain from that first spank, and I remember I began to cry. She didn’t seem to care as she raised her hand again and brought it down hard. Smack, smack, smack, smack!

“Ow, Auntie Rachel! I’m sorry, please stop!”

Smack, smack, smack, smack!

“Mommee! Ooww!”

Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack!

Then it stopped. I lay there, my bottom on fire, tears streaming. I didn’t bother to try to get up; I was afraid of getting another spanking. I heard Aunt Rachel fumbling with something and suddenly she spread my cheeks and I felt the thermometer go deep inside me. I cried out and tried to struggle but I was still pinned down. She gave me another sharp smack and I quietened down again. I felt her hand on top of the thermometer, holding it down, and I squirmed, my eyes filling.

She kept it there for a full six minutes (I watched the clock) and then slowly took it out. I remained draped over her lap, terrified to move a muscle.

“About 100,” she proclaimed and pushed me up, ordering me to put my panties and shorts on. As I turned to get them, I felt a sharp pinch on my behind and squealed. As she left the room, she said: “We’ll do it again tonight”.

By that, she meant the whole thing. I got the spanking before she took my temperature. I learned not to struggle, however. As the days passed, I felt increasingly tired and sick to my stomach but only I knew it was because I missed mommy and daddy so much. Auntie Rachel took my temperature when I got up and before bed, and I always got a few quick spanks beforehand to remind me to behave.

My ‘stomach sickness’ kept me in bed, and I found myself not even getting up to go to the bathroom. In the middle of one night, I woke up with horrible cramps and tearfully started calling for Aunt Rachel. She hurried into my room and proceeded to feel my stomach.

“Jenna, have you gone to the bathroom these last few days?” I hesitated, then shook my head. She sighed heavily. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

I waited for a few minutes, heard her rummaging in the bathroom, heard water running. When she entered the room again she was holding some things, but the darkness made them impossible to make out. She perched herself on the edge of my bed and motioned for me to get over her knees. I did so, trembling. I hated that thermometer.

When she separated my cheeks and I felt something slowly slide into me, it wasn’t the thermometer. It was longer and thicker – and it hurt. I cried out but she told me to be still unless I wanted a very red bottom. She told me this would help me go to the bathroom. After a second, I felt a stream of something wet flow into me and I began to cry. I felt it fill me up and I started to wiggle around. Aunt Rachel quickly removed the long rod.

Smack, smack, smack, smack! I stopped struggling, my bottom aching.

Once again, she inserted it and the stream of liquid started up again. It filled me up even more and then my stomach hurt. I felt like I had to go to the bathroom and I told her so. “You stay right where you are until I am done!”

Finally, she removed what was in me and I started to get up. My tummy was aching horribly and I felt like I had to go really bad. She pushed me back down and I felt something else in my bottom.

“This will help you keep the medicine in,” she said. She made me lie on my back with this long thing in my bottom and the whole time I was crying and begging her to let me go potty. Finally, she helped me to the bathroom and removed the tushie plug. I immediately began doing number two, all over the place. She let me finish, wiped me off and spanked me.

Contributor: Jenna

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