AUNT GABRIELLE Demo

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"Katherine? Katherine Nowak?" A young woman with her straight brown hair in a ponytail, wearing pencil skirt and a yellow sweater that hugs her bust, stands from the seat closest to the door. She keeps her eyes fixed on the green carpet as she approaches the receptionist desk. "That's me," she says in a small voice, handing a slip to the woman behind the desk. "Do you go by Katherine or Kate?" The woman behind the counter adjusts her glasses as she looks up. "Kate." "Mm. Alright, //Kate N.// -- they're ready for you now," the receptionist says simply, placing the slip on a few other forms, which she pins on a clipboard before handing them back. "Take your things with you, please -- the exit is through the other end of the facility." Liv watches //Kate N.// in fascination as she crosses the room back to her chair to recover her purse. The young woman's face is drawn, tight-lipped with anticipation...and Liv doesn't look any more relaxed than she does. She's still chewing her pinky nail, wide-eyed. It gives her the look of a high school girl sent to the principal's office, when in reality she just turned 25. Beside her, her mother, Camelia, sucks her teeth in disapproval. "Olivia, don't bite your nails," she says, pulling her daughter's wrist away from her face gently. "And you just had a manicure, too! Ugh! You're too //old// to be doing that that!" "Apparently not too old for //some// things," Liv says darkly. And Camelia, suddenly looking very anxious herself, says nothing in reply. When Liv's hand goes back to her mouth, Camelia doesn't say anything. Instead, she starts to bite her nails too. [[Continue|INTRO 2]]

**Of course you do. After all, you've lived in 88 Fortward Lane for the past three years. How many //behavior reviews// is that, Jack?...more than //thirty//? And how many times did you wind up over one of the professionals knee?** Yes, Jack definitely knows the sting of a good maintenance spanking...and the disciplinarians //definitely// know Jack! Jack is a handsome young man with dark hair and a nervous gleam in his eye. He has a keen fashion sense and always keeps in the latest style...although, right now he's wearing nothing more than a pair of blue boxers. He's wishing he'd at least worn a longer //undershirt//, like some of the other boys in line...his button-down had been too long, so Kimberly had told him to take it off. The tee he has on is barely long enough to cover the small of his back, much less his broad derriere. But before anyone even //notices// his clothes or his well-kempt hair or bright blue eyes or his handsome face, everyone's eye goes to //one thing//: his enormous, juicy, busting-out-of-the-seat-of-his-pants //tushy//. Of all the boys in the 88 Fortward Lane house standing in line right now, Jack has the biggest ass -- he probably has the biggest ass the University has ever seen! His round rear cheeks are like two juicy Christmas hams pressed together, and wherever he goes he draws comments... **...much to your chagrin. Isn't that right, Jack?** Sometimes, the girls will whistle at him when they see him stand up. Friends who pass him in the hallway like to give his bottom a playful //smack//, just to watch it jiggle as his face lights up bright red. Once, the manager of an athletic equipment store made him take his pants down to prove he wasn't shoplifting. "Oh, //wow//," she said as he lowered his jeans, humiliated. "I could have sworn you were trying to sneak out with a couple of soccer balls under there..." His friends didn't let Jack live that down for //weeks//. Everywhere he goes, his round bottom attracts attention...and Aunty Gabrielle's spankshop is no exception. At this point, each one of the disciplinarians has had a turn spanking poor Jack, and none of them have missed the opportunity to comment on his heinie. //M-Maybe today...I won't get my boxers pulled down,// he thinks nervously, biting his lip. //I just have to answer the questions right...r-right?// **Good luck, Jack -- you're gonna need it!** [[Continue|DEMO END]](set:$questions=(a:"A","B","C","D","E","F"))(set:$questioner=0)(set:$demerits=0)(set:$number=0)(set:$bared=0)(set:$passage=0)

{ }Liv is still wearing her pajamas as she quick-steps down the stairs at her parent's house. Without the support of a snug pair of jeans or even panties, her bottom bounces with each step, her fabulously round butt-cheeks clapping together like muted applause. As she sweeps her hand through her bedhead, she yawns, wishing she could spend another hour -- //or maybe two// -- tucked up in bed. But //laziness// was one of the reasons her dad sent her to Aunty Gabrielle, and her rear end is //still// stinging. Her face reddens as she absently rubs her hand across one round cheek of her jiggling behind. The flannel clings to her shapely bottom, which //still// bears the marks from the hairbrush, even though it's been a few days since...//I-I don't even want to **think** about...**that**...// So she set her alarm early, and she's making sure she can be //seen// around the house this morning, because...//Well, I'm not about to give dad more reasons to think I need extra "motivation"//, she thinks grimly, biting her lip as she comes into the living area, trying not to think of how her bottom jiggled beneath the spanks just like how it jiggles as she hurries down the stairs -- As she rounds the corner into the kitchen, her mother's voice interrupts her thoughts. She speaking urgently into the receiver of their landline phone, which only one person ever uses to call them anymore: Liv's grandmother. <span style="font-size: 70%">"But //mom!// That's not -- you don't...//mooooom//, please! --" </span> [[Continue|INTRO 4]]

{ }"Oh, hey, mom," Liv says as she realizes she's not alone in kitchen. Camelia is sitting at the table in front of a breakfast spread in her bathrobe, talking with the phone pressed to her cheek. Actually, she's not //talking// -- she's //whispering//. Liv sits in the chair across from her and takes a piece of crispy bacon from the plate. "Is that granny? Camelia looks up at her like a deer in the headlights. "U-Um," she stammers. "Y-yes...uh, hang on, mom, I'm going to go to the living room." Stumbling slightly in her rush, Camelia stands up, sweeps her bathrobe tightly around her, and leaves. Liv watches her go with her eyebrows raised. She turns back to the spread, confused. "...//that// was weird," she says softly to herself. //I wonder what that's all about...// [[Continue|DEMO END]]

"//So// unfair." Eileen's muttering is almost (but not quite) drowned out by the squeak of their sneakers as they're led down the hall. "//Shhh!//" Abigail exclaims. "Weren't you //listening?!//" She winces and her hands flutter to and fro, unsure whether to cover her reddening face or her rear end. "But it's //true//," Eileen snaps back. "Coach Forbes has it in for me. That's the //only// reason we're here." "That's not what it says in //here//" Minnie says, leafing through forms on Eileen's clipboard. "Here we go: //laziness, unwillingness to train, back-sass --//" Eileen slaps the forms from Minnie's hand. "//Back-sass?!// I just asked a question!" she says, flushing quite pink. "I don't get why we have to run so many suicides when I'm the setter -- I basically stand in the same place the whole game!" "She probably just wants to see your butt jiggle," Minnie says with a shrug. "//What?//" "Isn't that what she's always saying?" Minnie goes on. "//C'mon, ladies -- let's see those butts **jiggle**!//" "She //does// say that...plus, during spiking drills...." Abigail says. She groans. "Oh, and during //jumping jacks.//" "See?! Coach Forbes is just a big perv -- and now she's sending us to get spanked for //no// --" "This way, please," their guide says, opening a door marked "TRIPLE-USE." The room inside is large, modestly furnished with an oak desk, a coat rack, and a light blue carpet. On the back wall are two framed posters from an old Aunty Gabrielle add campain: the first one says, "WHY ARE WE OLD-FASHIONED?" and the second one replies, "BECAUSE OLD-FASHIONED //WORKS//" in bold white font. The background is dominated by a close-up of a //mean// looking wooden hairbrush, held by an expert hand with painted fingernails. "...//reason//..." Eileen finishes miserably as all three sets of eyes land on an identical wooden hairbrush resting on the desk... [[Continue|INTRO 7]]

"Aunty Gabrielle will be right with you," the woman informs them in a pleasant monotone. "Please sign and set your clipboards on the desk, then remove your shorts. I'll take them for you." All three women blush brightly, but none of them dare to disagree. They start to undress. As they peel down their short shorts, they each reveal a practical pair of white cotton panties, presumably size XXL. "P-Panties too?" Abigail asks in a quavering voice with her black shorts around her thighs. "No," the professional woman says simply, in a tone no different than if she'd been reporting the weather, "Aunty Gabrielle will take those off for you during your punishment." Abigail looks stricken. Eileen and Minnie step out of the legholes and silently hand their shorts over before turning to set the clipboards on the desk. Abigail is still for another minute -- then, as though coming out of a trance, she bites her lip, (unsuccessfully) fights the scarlet flush rushing into her cheeks, and hands the woman her shorts. "If the three of you would please stand with your bottoms out and your hands on the desk," the woman says politely. But it isn't at all a request. Minnie stands on the left side, arms locked, her huge, moon-white bottom out and her face blushing bright. Eileen takes the right, still pouting: her heinie, unlike her face, is unfreckled and pale as cream. Abigail anxiously flicks a wedgie out of her bottom as she beds over in imitation of the other girls, still biting her bottom lip... The attendant closes the door softly behind her, and the volleyball players hear the sound of her smart high-heels receding as she walks down the hall. //Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...// The three panty-clad bottoms, side by side, are a lovely sight to behold. All three women have thin waists and fairly narrow shoulders, but their hips are so broad they're almost brushing against each other. Each white orb is as round and springy as fresh dough, supported by long, athletic legs and thick thighs. The girls are silent, each staring forward at the wall... ...and //not// looking at the implement just before them. And this is the sight that greets Aunty Gabrielle as she comes in. ------ "Well, aren't //you// three a pretty picture," Aunty Gabrielle says. She strides in and hangs her jacket on the coat hanger, moving swiftly to the other side of the desk. Eileen starts to stand, and Aunty Gabrielle corrects her sharply: "You can stay as you are, //thank// you very much," the disciplinarian says. Eileen flushes deeper pink and resumes her humiliating stance, eyes fixed to the desk, bottom jutted out behind. Aunty Gabrielle is a tall woman, but this isn't what makes her presence so intimidating. Minnie is the same height but, remarkably, Aunty Gabrielle seems to tower over her and the other women enough to look at them through her nose. She flips the forms on the first clipboard over quickly...then stops. The pause is long. Long enough that Abigail's eyes flicker up at her. But just a glimpse of Aunty Gabrielle's broad shoulders and stern expression is enough to make her look back down, her insides fluttering. Aunty Gabrielle pays no mind to her at all. She checks the second clipboard, then the third. After another long pause, she looks up at Eileen. "So, the three of you are on the same volleyball team?" Eileen nods, her mouth feeling rather dry. "And why did you coach send you three to me?" she asks, looking at Minnie. Minnie swallows hard. "B-Because we lost the last two games," she says. Aunty Gabrielle quirks an eyebrow. "You're being spanked for //losing//?" "W-Well," Abigail chimes in with a voice much higher-pitched than usual. "A-Actually, we...we were //lazy//, Aunty Gabrielle." Minnie nods. "That's true. We're being spanked for not training harder." "That's what coach says," Eileen adds -- with the slightest hint of an edge in her voice. Aunty Gabrielle never misses when someone takes a //tone//. She can detect lippiness from a distance measured in nautical miles -- and so, she doesn't miss //tone// of Eileen's remark. //That's what coach says.// Usually, a comment like //that// would earn a few extra //smacks// -- //per cheek//, as Aunty Gabrielle likes to say. And maybe it still will. And yet... "Ladies," she says to the three thirty-year-olds bent over in their underwear, "you'll need to excuse me for a moment." And with that, she sets the form down and //walks out of the room.// [[Continue|INTRO 8]]

"//Now// you've done it," Minnie says, cutting her eyes at Eileen. "//What?!//" "//Omigodshe'ssoscary//," Abigail whispers, knees trembling. "I didn't //say// anything," Eileen insists, feeling the heat rise in her face. "I-all I said was --" "You said //enough//," Minnie says, rolling her eyes. Then a silence falls over the three volleyball players as each one hopes...//prays//, in Abigail's case...that they didn't just make things much worse... ---- Aunty Gabrielle steps into the hallway just in time to catch Aunty Maria coming out of a DOUBLE-USE room up the corridor. "Maria, a moment of your time," she says, holding up her hand. Maria turns and beams. A sob echoes from inside the room, followed by a desperate, wet-sounding apology before she closes the door. "Perfect timing," she says. "I //just// finished with the Johnsons." "Good," Aunty Gabrielle says. "I think I'm going to need a hand..." "I've got one right here for ya," Maria quips, holding up the hand that, just moments ago, was spanking a //very// sincere //I'M SORRY// out of Mrs. Johnson. It's still slightly pink and warm from its job, but ready as ever for more. "Tough case?" "Case//s//," Aunty Gabrielle responds a bit distractedly. "I've got three women in the TRIPLE-USE room right now for hand and hairbrush with some of the biggest derrieres I've ever seen.." Aunty Maria chirps a laugh. "Well, is that all? I'd be //happy// to help with three big, naughty bottoms --" Her eyes glimmer. "//More// than happy, in fact. "No, no, that's not it," Aunty Gabrielle replies, waving her hand. "The thing is: //I think there might be a fourth//..." And with that, she pushes through the door into the waiting room. The receptionist looks up from her novel, surprised. The only other person in the waiting room looks up as well. "Coach Forbes?" Aunty Gabrielle says to her in a voice that could cut glass. Beverly Forbes shifts in her seat, a bit taken aback. "Y-Yes, that's me..." "Good," the disciplinarian says forcefully. "//We need you to come with us.//" [[Continue|DEMO END]]

It had, so far, been a fairly slow day for the receptionist. Earlier that morning, she'd fielded a few phone calls about high school seniors sleeping in late, a typical interaction with an especially nervous housewife, and one //very// interesting request from the owner of a five star restaurant making a professional discipline appointment for her dinner-hour hostess. But other than that, the waiting room had been slow before three women come in, pouting bitterly, and approach the window together. Each of them wears a matching red jersey with a stenciled volleyball above the left breast. //Teammates//, thinks the receptionist, raising her eyebrows. //So...where's coach?// "'Here for a triple appointment with Aunty Gabrielle," says a woman siddling in behind them. She's wearing a zip-up hoodie sweatshirt and a shiny whistle around her neck. //Aha!// the receptionist thinks, suppressing a triumphant grin. //**There** she is!// The coach has her blonde hair in a perm, and her make-up is flawless -- she's in her forties, but she hardly looks much older than the three players, all of whom (the receptionist checks the record for Aunty Gabrielle's 1:00pm) are 30-years-old. "You're Beverly Forbes, then?" the receptionist says, glancing down at the paper before her. //COMMENTS: A GOOD FIRM HAND & HAIRBRUSH SPANKING REQUIRED FOR LOSING US THE LAST 2 MATCHES, AND I WANT THEM TO TELL **YOU** WHAT THEY DID...// The receptionist quirks an eyebrow at the whistle and the jerseys. "Er...//Coach// Forbes?" "That's me," Coach Forbes says with a wink, elbowing the redhead softly. She's chewing bubblegum and barely hiding a huge grin: the type of grin that seems to say, //I **told** you this would happen, and here you are!// The players continue to pout as she spins them roughly around to show the names and numbers written on the backs of their jerseys. NUMBER 61 - HOFSTADER -- the tallest by no more than an inch -- is blonde with heavy eyeshadow and full lips. "This is Minnie," her coach says -- although the receptionist notes nothing //mini// about her rear end straining against her short-shorts. NUMBER 14 - SEVER wears her long brown hair in bangs, and she's chewing her pinky nail. "This is Abigail," coach says, and Abigail glances nervously over her shoulder, and the receptionist sees real fear in her watery blue eyes. Her shorts are overshort too, and they're riding up into her round tushy, giving the receptionist a glimpse of cheek. NUMBER 35 - O'MALLEY is a redhead with a shirt too small for her too large chest. "And //this// is Eileen -- oh, //come on//, Eileen!" she says when her player resists the coach's effort to spin her. "Go on and show the nice lady that big ass you've been //sitting on.//" "This is //so// not //fair!//" Eileen exclaims. Coach Forbes looks at the receptionist and winks again. "Bet you hear that a lot, don't you?" she says, grinning ear to ear. The receptionist nods. "Oh, believe me, I do," she says with a quick smile. With a practiced hand, she snaps papers to their clipboards and passes out each one to the players. "Here -- you'll need to take these to give to Aunty Gabrielle. And remember: you need to do //exactly// what your disciplinarian says." She gazes long and hard into each pretty set of eyes. "No backtalk. No whining. And don't you //dare// say your punishment isn't fair." Here she looks hard at Eileen until the redhead blushes and looks away. "And me?" Coach Forbes says, gesturing behind her to a chair. As she turns, the receptionist sees that Coach Forbes is hardly lacking in the //hindquarters// deparatment, either. //Volleyball must really work your glutes!// "I just wait here?" the coach goes on. The receptionist nods. "Right there will be fine," she says. She turns back to the players just as the door to a long corridor opens and a sharply dressed woman steps out. "Okay girls," she says -- still holding back a smirk because //God, I love this job!// -- "Aunty Gabrielle will see you now." [[Continue|INTRO 6]]{ (set:$bonus=0) (set:$spanking = 0) (set:$Beverly_confession = 0) (set:$Beverly_hand = 0) (set:$Beverly_brush = 0) (set:$Abigail_confession = 0) (set:$Abigail_hand = 0) (set:$Abigail_brush = 0) (set:$Minnie_confession = 0) (set:$Minnie_hand = 0) (set:$Minnie_brush = 0) (set:$Eileen_confession = 0) (set:$Eileen_hand = 0) (set:$Eileen_brush = 0)}

It's a rainy fall morning, and the slick wet parking lot is full of cars. At Aunty Gabrielle's Professional Spanking & Discipline Agency, the reception area is standing room only. That's because it's 9am on the 30th of the month -- which means that the boys living in the 88 Fortward Lane dormitory of St. Bartholomew's Co-Ed University are standing in line -- dressed down to nothing but their underwear -- ready for their //contracted maintenance//. Oh, yes: young men of college-age need careful, rigorous discipline. Even more than the girls, sometimes! That's why 88 Fortward Lane -- an all-male dorm with thirty residents -- keeps a monthly contract with the disciplinarians at Aunty Gabrielle's. On the 30th of every month, all of the boys come in to the agency for a //Behavioral Review.// Aunt Gabby and Aunt Carol handle the questions: each boy is asked, one by one, about his behavior for the month. If the professionals decide that a boy needs disciplining -- usually if he earns (color:red)[**5 demerits**] or more -- his boxers are promptly pulled down to his ankles. He is then sent to the receptionist, Kimberly, who arranges for one of the Aunts to spank him. The university calls it "maintenance." The Aunts call it "dorm discipline day." The boys don't have a name for it -- they try not to think about it for 29 days of the month. They //certainly// don't tell their friends at other dorms about the contract...although, of course, most of them know. They'd rather //not// think about what awaits them in Aunt Gabrielle's at the end of every month...But now the day is here. The entire spankshop schedule has to be kept clear. All three of the top disciplinarians participate. //Many// bottoms are made //very// sore and red. It can be a long process: sometimes, the Behavioral Review alone can take hours! And that's to say nothing of the punishments each wayward young man has to receive as a reminder that //misbehavior has consequences//. **But, of course, you know all of this already...don't you, Jack?** [[Continue|INTRO 10]]

==><== #END OF DEMO <== (color:black)[.....]<img src="https://i.ibb.co/LdTY5kK/1.png" alt="1" border="0"></a>(color:black)[.....] ###(color:yellow)[Play the //full game// by becoming a member on my Patreon //or// downloading it on itch.io for $5!]

(color:black)[......][[<img src="https://i.ibb.co/gVyYCMX/4.png" alt="4" border="0"></a>|INTRO 1]](color:black)[......] ==><== #[[>|START 2]]

A passerby might not know right away that Camelia and Liv are mother and daughter -- not unless they looked closely. For one thing, Camelia is blonde, and she wears her hair at shoulder length. Her daughter has thick, wavy dark locks, practically black (although she still has her mother's fair complexion and light freckles). Her mother has a more upturned nose and higher cheek bones, although both of them are almost startlingly pretty. Finally, Camelia has grass-green eyes (Liv's are icy blue), and although some slight lines have started to show at the edges of them, she hardly looks her 45-years. Liv has been asked on at least a couple of occasions, "Is she your sister?" If they //did// look closely, however, they //would// notice some tell-tale signs. First of all, they have the exact same frown: a slight pout, with a line where their eyebrows draw together. They also have a strikingly similar laugh, and they both have a tendency to wrinkle their noses when being told a bad joke. Neither of them can hide their feelings worth a damn: they both blush as brightly as summer strawberries, and pretty frequently, too. Perhaps the most //notable// similarity between mother and daughter, though, is their large and shapely behinds. It's certainly one of the things Liv's boyfriends have noticed. Camelia's bottom is even bigger, straining her high-waisted jeans. Their //ample// size in this department has led to many embarassing incidents involving chairs with armrests, which have a tendency to lift up with them when they stand -- "Camelia and Olivia Benson?" Luckily, the chairs in the Waiting Room don't have arm rests. Still, when they stand to go to the reception desk, they're //both// blushing brightly, and in exactly the same way... [[Continue|DEMO END]]

(color:black)[......][[<img src="https://i.ibb.co/FY37rFP/AUNTY-GABRIELLE-S-1.png" alt="AUNTY-GABRIELLE-S-1" border="0"></a>|INTRO 3]](color:black)[......] ==><== #[[<|START 1]][[>|START 3]]

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(color:black)[......][[<img src="https://i.ibb.co/JxNLskC/2.png" alt="2" border="0"></a>|INTRO 9]](color:black)[......] ==><== #[[<|START 3]]