This story concerns the physical disciplining of a teenage girl. It is not a 'spanking' story in the literal sense (in fact buttocks don't even have a leading role), but I hope that it is faithful to a certain kinks related to spanking -discipline, punishment, humiliation, bared body parts, etc.
This story is fiction for the purposes of sexual fantasy only. I do NOT endorse the actions of any of the characters as things that ought to take place in the real world.
'Letter From A Strict Mom, Part 1' introduced young Nancy and detailed her first taste of physical discipline and of the birch twigs. Her adventures continue...OK I know sequels are shameless hacks churned out to maximize profits. In fact I hate sequels so much I refused to see Henry V. I admit that I'm getting fabulously wealthy with this series. Those who have scruples should proceed no farther...
You may remember having received a letter from me approximately six months back wherein I related the story of how my husband Dave and I, as well as our 13 year old son Timmy, made use of your wonderful advice on disciplining teens in order to set our unruly daughter Nancy back to being a well behaved 16 year old. In case you don't remember, I'll just summarize by saying that we gave her a very well birched behind which kept her standing for meals for a good week afterward and which made an impression on her mind that will probably last a lot longer than a week. We took your advice on a systematic birching method and added one or two innovations of our own, such as the specially adapted sawhorse that was so useful in keeping Nancy's bare bottom properly positioned, as well as the technique of rotating Nancy's body forward a bit to make the birching of the area between her buttocks more convenient. Both of these were inventions of Dave's.
I did provide the innovation of having Dave and I birch Nancy at the same time, each of us gradually moving from the outside of her buttocks toward the central divide. This seemed to provide an especially intense experience for Nancy, as did our decision to go against your precept that any birching of the genitals was to be avoided.
Well, that was a night that none of us will forget for awhile, although Nancy's experience was quite a bit different from the rest of ours. Dave, Timmy, and I enjoyed ourselves quite a lot, I must say, and I think that all of us secretly wished that Nancy would mess up again. No such luck. The difference in Nancy has been like night and day. The slightest hint of rebellion in the teenager can be quelled with the threat of "another visit to daddy's workshop". I swear her face turns pale on hearing this!
In spite of Nancy's good behavior, there was another problem -her grades. We had hoped that along with her improvement in general deportment that there would be an improvement in schoolwork but this hope was not gratified. Nevertheless we were sure that Nancy was an intelligent girl and could do much better in school than she was doing. We tried various methods, counseling, talking with her, tutoring. Nothing seemed to help. Then, about 2 months ago Dave told me that he had an idea and that I was to trust him. He then started to spend all of his free time in his workshop.
I had no idea what he was up to but I was fairly excited by it, based on the results of the last time he had spent time in his workshop and developed the birching horse that was used so effectively to cure Nancy's behavior problems. I felt hopeful for the first time about Nancy's future and I must admit I also felt a secret thrill of anticipation about what type of uncomfortable experience Nancy might be in for and what type of entertainment the rest of us might expect! Perhaps it may not seem proper for a parent to look forward to and to enjoy the disciplining of a child, but we are of the opinion that this enjoyment is a useful tool that helps to ensure that any discipline is performed thoroughly and enthusiastically.
Just about a week ago Dave invited me into his workshop, which he had been keeping locked. I have to say that he had outdone himself. Not only had he come up with a plan that was sure to spur Nancy on to be the best she could be, but he had created a very clever device with which the plan could be implemented. I think it is best to leave the description of the device to the point at which I describe Nancy's introduction to it.
About a week after I was invited into the workshop, one Friday after Nancy had come home from school, Dave and I asked Nancy into the living room to have a talk. We once again expressed our concerns over her grades. She once again explained that she was trying as hard as she could and that the material was just too hard for her. We once again assured her that we were convinced that she was perfectly capable of getting better grades. We explained to her that we believed she was sincere in that she truly believed she was trying as hard as she could, but that we felt she just wasn't sufficiently motivated to really give it her all.
Nancy was looking her usual cute self, by the way, wearing her school uniform of white blouse (which she was filling out very nicely!), brown plaid skirt, black patent leather shoes and white knee socks. An attractive little package, she was, with her blond hair pulled back into a pony tail, and her pouty lips touched up with a bright shade of red.
"So we are going to try something new, Nancy, a new plan." Dave explained, as Nancy got a funny expression on her pretty face, as if she had a feeling she wasn't going to like this new plan very much.
He continued as the full-figured, blond headed teenager fidgeted nervously, "I guess the best way to describe it, Nancy, is to say that it's a way of motivating you, a way to spur you to really exert yourself in your studies and to get the good grades that we know you're capable of. At times what will be happening may seem very strange or improper to you, and you may be a bit uncomfortable every now and then. Just remember that it is all for your own good, for your future. If you'll just recall how effective our last treatment was for you, you'll probably have greater confidence in this one."
Nancy blushed a fiery red at this reference to her painful and shameful encounter with the birch a few months previous. "Ohhhh, you're not going to... to do *that* to me again?" she asked.
"No, no, my dear, the birch is only for when you're bad, and you haven't been bad." answered Dave, "But do remember this, Nancy. For the next couple of hours you may consider yourself to be in a special disciplinary situation. Therefore you will obey every instruction from your mother or me without hesitation, or your bottom will be very very sore."
Again Nancy's blush ignited.
"Understood?" Dave asked.
"Now, for starters, we'll have your clothes off." he said calmly, as if he were commenting on the weather, then he called out, "Oh Timmy, would you join us in the living room, please?"
These two sentences in tandem just about gave our cute little thing a stroke. Her jaw dropped in amazed horror, "What! Oh no, Daddy, please! Please let me have my clothes on? And please don't let Timmy see me?" she pleaded.
"Actually, Nancy, please forgive me." Dad replied, "I'll explain. You see, it's only this first time that you'll have to remove your clothes. In the future we expect that won't be necessary. You see, we want this first session to be especially memorable for you, that is, uncomfortable for you, so you'll be even more motivated to improve in your school work. Also, it will be easier for us to monitor the effects of the treatment this first time without your clothes in the way. And, by the way, we're including Timmy in this both because he's a family member and deserves to observe any family discipline that goes on, but also because we know that you especially hate being naked in front of him. So don't worry, for future sessions you'll be keeping almost all of your clothes on, unless you backslide."
I chipped in, "Don't make such a fuss, Nancy. Remember that we've all seen you in your birthday suit before, Timmy included. So come on, hurry up, or, I'm not kidding, your bottom will suffer. And you'll be naked for that anyway, so you won't have gained a thing."
Timmy walked in, looking quite happy and expectant.
Dave glared at Nancy, "Nancy, you have two seconds to start removing your clothes, and no dilly dallying."
It was too much for her. She burst into tears as she started distractedly to unbutton her blouse. Tears were streaming down her pretty, pouty face as her quite large breasts, partially covered by a lacy cream colored bra, came more and more into view. Timmy had a seat on the couch and watched carefully as Nancy ruefully tugged the tail of the blouse loose from the waistband of the skirt, then removed it completely and stood there holding it in front of her - her sobs becoming a bit quieter now.
"Lay it on the back of the couch, Nancy" I suggested. She obeyed meekly. As she leaned over her breasts appeared to want to spill out of the cups of her bra. Several tear streaks could be seen glistening on the upper surfaces, which swelled and receded in time to her now softened sobbing.
"Now the skirt." ordered Dave. She might have taken off her shoes next, I don't know, but I do know that Dave enjoys seeing girls in their underwear with their shoes still on. The rascal!
Another despairing moan and then Nancy was unbuttoning the waist band of her skirt. "D-dad?" she peeped hopefully, pausing in her embarrassing task. He said nothing, but narrowed his eyes a bit. She got the message, removed the skirt, and displayed to us her lovely young figure in nothing but cream colored bra and skimpy panties, along with, of course, her knee socks and black shoes. She certainly looked fetching as she mournfully laid the skirt to rest on top of the blouse.
I had a sudden idea, and whispered in Dave's ear, "You know, dear, there's really no reason for her to remove her shoes and socks. In fact it might be even more amusing for us and more humiliating, that is, instructive, for her."
He nodded and his eyes sparkled. "Now the bra, Nancy, and be quick about it." he commanded the sniffling youngster.
Nancy hung her blond head as she reached behind herself and unhooked her bra. "P-please, daddy...?" she ventured one tearful plea, but, seeing by the glint in Dave's eye that no mercy would be forthcoming, she pulled the bra away from her ruby-tipped swelling breasts.
Nancy was blushing all the way down to her nipples and she couldn't resist the impulse to attempt to cover a portion of those massive mounds with one arm, the other still dangling by her side and holding on to the bra.
"Don't cover up, Nancy." Dave ordered, "And stand up straight. Today's session is to help you improve your grades, and a very important part of that is learning discipline"
Nancy complied, and her breasts appeared to be standing at attention as she straightened her back, although they did quiver a bit and sway slightly from side to side.. I made a mental note to suggest to Dave that he use his native inventiveness to come up with some ways of including Nancy's breasts in future discipline sessions. It seemed such a shame to let them go to waste. Nancy's sobbing had pretty much subsided for the time being, but her pouty lips were quivering along with her breasts. She was clearly waiting for the dreaded next command. It came.
"And now the panties, Nancy."
"Daddy, please! I can't - not in front of Timmy. You just can't make me..."
"The panties, Nancy..."
"No! I won't!"
Nancy's desperate defiance was certainly understandable. She was a modest girl, and she knew how much her hated brother was enjoying her humiliation and how much more he would enjoy her complete nakedness. She knew very well that there might be severe consequences for her defiance, and I'm sure she didn't want to incur them, but she was just too embarrassed to remove her panties in front of us. As I'm sure you, professor, and many of your readers know, moments like this are most delicious to true disciplinary enthusiasts, when the victim's fears of physical pain are about equaled by his/her sense of shame and humiliation.
As you must know by now, I am a firm believer that obedience during a discipline session must be complete and instantaneous. Anything less and the authority of the parent is compromised. Thus the consequences for any failure on the part of the culprit must be serious. I am also one who does not like to be unprepared. I had with me, in a pocket of my dress, an 18 inch long rubber dog whip, an instrument which can sting like fury without doing too much serious damage.
In one swift motion I rose to my feet and brought the whip smartly across Nancy's pretty white belly. There was a satisfying snap and a scream, and Nancy was suddenly bent double holding her smarting midriff. As your readers will no doubt be very aware, a pretty teenager clad only in panties who happens to be bent over double is in a classic posture wherein her bottom is almost begging for, nay, demanding, attention.
But I was forced to hesitate for a second because I couldn't help noticing the also very tempting targets presented by her unprotected, hanging breasts. I was sure that the dog whip would not be too harsh or heavy an instrument to apply to one or the other of these firm ripe morsels and I was extremely curious as to what the results might be. However, I quickly decided that "the heat of the moment" was not the time to venture into uncharted territory. I reset my sights to the jutting, panty clad, rear end. I took a quick step around Nancy to gain a better position and raised my arm.
Just before bringing the whip whistling down, I noticed that Nancy's legs were slightly parted and that the white bulge of her panty covered cunt was peeping out from beneath her bottom cheeks. A slight adjustment on the downswing was all it would take to assure that the body of the whip swept down diagonally across Nancy's left bottom cheek while the tip made sharp contact with the aforementioned naughty bulge.
I decided against this as well. As you will soon see, Nancy's cunt was to receive its full share of attention as part of the educational training system that she was going to be introduced to this evening, so I thought I would spare it for the moment. Instead I readjusted my aim a touch higher so that the whip would fall right across the ripest curves of Nancy's so nicely presented bottom. In order to make up for my disappointment in having to give up snapping Nancy's little pussy I made sure to put extra force into the blow to her bottom. Unfortunately for Nancy, it seems that, while the body of the whip caught her full on the left cheek, the tip just happened to whistle into the shady groove between. It's true that Nancy was wearing panties, but they were very shear and my guess was they weren't providing much protection for their contents.
"Ahhhhhggg!" came the desperate yell as Nancy shot bolt upright, overbalanced herself, and fell backwards heavily on her bottom on the floor. Crying and moaning loudly, she grabbed her bottom, rolling on the floor in pain. I couldn't help smiling at the amusing sight, and I noticed that Timmy and Dave were grinning broadly. "Good shot, Mom!" commented Timmy appreciatively.
"Nancy, I believe your father gave you an order. Now get up and obey him - or else." I ordered, raising the dogwhip again.
"No, no!" Nancy raised one arm in self defense, and then scrambled to her feet as best she could, but once standing, she was unable to keep from reaching both hands behind her to attempt to console her stinging bottom.
"Stand up straight, Nancy" ordered Dave.
"Ooooh!" the poor girl sobbed, but obeyed, standing again at attention. She had a bit of an altered appearance now. Her ponytail was coming undone and her belly was sporting a fine red stripe. Her panties of course covered whatever the effects were of the second blow.
"I'm sorry, Nancy, but obedience during discipline is very important in this household." I said, "Please do keep in mind, dear, that the purpose of this all is to help you do better in school, and that the more you cooperate, the easier it will be for all of us."
"The panties, Nancy - now!" came Dave's command.
Awkwardly, and with the most embarrassed blushes, she complied. The panties went down, past her kneesocks, to her ankles, over her black school shoes, and then off completely. Remembering her manners, Nancy returned to an upright "at attention" position, with her shoulders back, her breasts poking out, her hands at her sides, and tears streaming down her blushing cheeks. Nancy's pretty white bottom, lower belly, and heavily furred cunt were now presented to our entranced gaze. I took a moment to admire her lovely curves.
Across one cheek of her large but gracefully curved bottom there was a pretty, delicate red stripe, the end of which disappeared into hidden territory - into the crack of Nancy's butt. The red stripe on her belly had a delicate curve of its own, and together they created an effect like a Japanese brush painting.
The end of the stripe on Nancy's belly also disappeared - into the dense growth of curly blond hair just below it. Nancy had the thickest and widest ranging crop of pubic hair that I had ever seen. It was lovely and luxuriant. And even though it was very dense, it was blond and fine and allowed the underlying colors of her pussy to come through, the reddish brown of the wrinkled outer lips, the pinker, slightly protruding, labia minora and what appeared to be a rather luscious clitoris could be dimly glimpsed. I also happened to know, as a mother who could remember a time before the hair came in, that Nancy possessed an especially plump vulva underneath it, so that the combined effect was a very pominent, protruding, pubic area. It was a very erotic sight. And of course the knowledge that she was horribly shamed at having to show it and the rest of her naked body in front of me, her father, and Timmy her younger brother added a wonderfully thrilling twist to the experience.
"Thank you, Nancy." Dave said, "Now, the motivational equipment is in my workshop at the moment, as well as some other stuff we'll be needing. Nancy, would lead the way, please?"
Nancy seemed as though she were about to collapse. "Nooooo, Daddy! You said I haven't been bad!" she blanched in horror at the thought that she was doomed to another session over the saw horse. The poor thing! It seemed that every time she was about to get a hold on herself something new would come up and start her bawling again.
"No, no, Nancy." Dave chuckled, "Don't worry, that little bottom of yours isn't going to get scorched. Unless, of course, you indicate that you want it to, for instance by not obeying us promptly. Now get going, girl."
In despair, the teenager turned her naked self and led us toward the workshop, her black school shoes clomping on the hardwood floor. Timmy managed to get himself second in line in order to enjoy the natural rotations of Nancy's bum as she walked. Nancy, by the way, has an extremely cute, if rather large, bum, and the red stripe that I gave her added a nice extra bit of color. Nancy walked slowly, weeping all the way. She was in quite a state! I myself walked with a light step, anticipating the immediate future with gusto.
Nancy opened the door into the workshop and entered. As the rest of us filed into the room, Nancy stood awkwardly to the side. She was self-consciously attempting to cover up again - her right hand over her pussy and her left arm covering her nipples and a portion of her firm, large breasts. It was a bit cool in the workshop. Nancy was getting goosepimples and shivering a bit, I noticed. I liked to think that it was more than the cold that was causing her to shiver. She may have been wondering about the two large sheet-covered items sitting next to the wall.
"Nancy, you seem a bit cold." I said, on impulse, "Why don't you start doing some jumping jacks? Now!"
"Oooooh" the poor girl said as she began a halfhearted attempt at jumpingjacks. She didn't really want to spread her arms out fully instead of keeping them folded over her. And she clearly didn't want to jump too vigorously and thus cause her boobs to bounce around a lot.
"None of this loligagging!" I snapped. "Put some energy into it or it's the sawhorse, young lady."
This did the trick and got Nancy as well as her bosom bouncing energetically up and down - putting on quite a show for all of us. Her shoes were making quite a clatter on the floor and the tears and sniffling returned. I am of the opinion that a teenager under discipline should be kept either in tears or almost at the point of tears as continuously as possible.
While Nancy was busy warming herself up, Dave pulled the blanket off of one of the secret items, which was sitting unobtrusively off against the wall. It was a gynecologist's examination table, with one or two modifications made by the ever inventive hubby, which I will get to.
Timmy said, "Wow, what's that for, Dad?"
Nancy stopped jumping and had a look. She gasped and stared at the familiar device. It was something that held enough terror for her when seen in the expected surroundings of the gynecologist's office. When seen in Dad's workshop it took on a whole new level of ominousness. I think you and your readers will have to agree, if you want to embarrass a teenage girl as a part of a discipline program, a gynecologist's examination table is a wonderful tool, especially when combined with the presence of a hated and very curious little brother.
Dave answered his son, "Well, Timmy, why don't we just demonstrate? Up you go, Nancy. Up on the table and on your back, please."
Nancy was in shock, apparently unable to move or speak. She stared pleadingly, unbelievingly at her father, and then back at the table.
"Oh, Dad, n-not t-that!" she managed to whimper.
"Nancy, are you refusing to obey me?"
"Ooooh! I-I-I c-can't...at least, please, make Timmy go away...and anyway what are you going to...to...?"
I raised my trusty little dog whip in front on Nancy. With a tiny whimper, realizing she had no choice, Nancy pulled her cute little body up on the table and lay on her back, carefully keeping a hand over her crotch and a forearm over her boobs.
"Hands at your side." ordered Dave. With another whimper, Nancy obeyed, giving us an unobstructed view of the front of her body stretched out on the table, looking very cute in nothing but her shiny black shoes and white socks. She was crying loudly now and her face was red, as were her large nipples that crowned her breasts that were being pulled by gravity down onto her chest, and as was the tip of her clitoris, which was just peeping above the dense growth of bond pubic hair.
"And now, feet in the stirrups. Come on, girl, you heard me." Up went her legs, with the black school shoes and white socks looking so odd, given Nancy's current situation, and Dave and I helped Nancy rest her shoes in the stirrups.
The view was becoming more interesting. The slight pull from her spread thighs caused both the outer and inner lips of Nancy's fat cunt to come into view. Timmy made sure and got himself into position so he wouldn't miss a thing. I was so glad that Timmy was able to get educational opportunities such as this, which many a young teenage boy would be very happy to get and they just can't get in the boy scouts. I'm sure many of your readers would agree!
Nancy's eyes were squinched shut, so she couldn't see Dave reach a curious hand down toward her unprotected treasure, but she sure felt it when his fingers made rude contact. She jerked, screamed loudly, brought her hands in front of her pussy, pulled her feet out of the stirrups and closed her legs.
"Daddy!" was all she could manage to say to articulate her teenage outrage.
Dave chuckled, Timmy laughed. I motioned to Dave and Timmy and together we wrestled the poor girl's feet back into the stirrups and strapped them in. Then we secured her wrists to the table legs (having the pleasing effect of causing her boobs to jut up a bit). Dave took the trouble of fixing one of Nancy's socks, which had gotten wrinkled in the struggle, and was somewhat unsightly.
Timmy said, "Now that she's tied up, we can do anything we want to her."
Dave and I both laughed indulgently while Nancy helplessly moaned her humiliation. Dave said, "Now, Timmy, remember we're doing this for Nancy's sake, not our own." Turning to me, he said, "Honey, why don't you get the shaving equipment?"
Timmy asked, "Shaving equipment?"
As I left the workshop on my errand, I heard Nancy saying softly and redundantly, through her sobs, "S-s-shaving equipment?" When I returned, with scissors, shaving soap, and safety razor, Dave was just finishing up his explanation to Nancy as to why she was going to be sporting the bald look for a while. He later told me that all he really told her was that it was necessary in order that she get the most good out of her training. He didn't give her any definite information about the details of that training.
"P-please don't shave me! Oh! It'll hurt! Oh, make Timmy stay away from me! Make him go away, p-please!" Nancy was babbling.
She was reacting partly to the fact that Timmy had a pair of tweezers in his hand and was playfully playacting at pulling out some of Nancy's pubic hairs. It was rather amusing to watch Nancy flinch at each pretend yank. Timmy was smart enough to avoid *actually* pulling any hairs without permission from Dave or me.
Since Timmy was so obviously interested in the process, I said, "Timmy, why don't you give Nancy a really close trim with these scissors?"
"Ohhhhhhh, Mom!" wailed Nancy.
"Sure, Mom! With pleasure." said Timmy, taking the scissors eagerly. Timmy started, systematic boy that he is, just under Nancy's belly button, where the dense growth began. Nancy flinched at his first touch and whimpered. Timmy proceeded by grabbing small tufts of hair and pulling upwards rather roughly, so that a mound of skin was pulled up with the hair, before snipping of the tuft as near to the skin as he could get. At first Nancy yelped a bit with each tug, but gradually she calmed down to more or less continuous fearful moaning. As Timmy got nearer to the holy of holies (no pun intended), however, Nancy flinched with each touch and appeared to be feeling the tugs a bit more; some yelping began to return.
The yelping didn't slow Timmy down a bit and he continued on with vigor, perhaps treating Nancy's tender pussy skin a little rougher than was absolutely necessary, but in any case doing a thorough job. Finally Nancy had a crewcut, all the way from her belly button to the bottom of her vulva. It was apparent that there was more hair further on down that couldn't be reached just now. Timmy seemed to be pondering this.
"Hmmm" said Dave, running an inquisitive finger along the inner lips of Nancy's prickly pussy, "I think I detect a little telltale moisture here. You aren't getting turned on by this, are you, Nancy?" Dave held the glistening tip of his index finger up to Nancy's face. Then he sniffed it. "Yep, I think you are. I wonder if that deserves extra punishment."
Nancy was even more mortified than she had been up to now. She could only stare in horror at her father.
Dave said, "Well, we'll worry about that later. Lets see, there's still some hair we can't get to at the moment, but let's do a complete job on what we can see. We need some hot towels, don't we?"
"Oops!" I responded, "I forgot. I'll be right back!"
I was back immediately holding two hot towels. Dave took one of them gingerly and flopped in down onto Nancy's two day shadow.
"Yeeeooowwwww!" was Nancy's comment. She bucked with all her might and succeeded in bouncing the towel off of her suddenly very warm pussy with a series of sexy hip thrusts. I grabbed the towel and put it back, this time holding it down with my fingers. I had to admit, it *was* pretty darn hot.
"Owwwwww!" came Nancy's unimaginative response, "Ah! Ah! It's scalding me!" Please believe me, Professor, I knew very well that the towel was not scalding Nancy, but I didn't question her assertion that it was very uncomfortable.
I removed the towel and Dave proceeded to lather Nancy up. He applied the soap to all surfaces except her clitoris and her inner lips, which caused these items to be rather amusingly and interestingly highlighted. Then he proceeded to give her a very close, careful shave. He used the clitoris and the inner lips as handles to grab onto to stretch out bits of skin for the razor. These particular attentions caused Nancy to breathe in hissingly through her teeth. Like Timmy, Dave was forced to stop after getting just below Nancy's newly smooth pussy.
"Now, lets see if we can get better access to the lower areas. Lets try this." he said, as he pushed a button on the side of the table. "It's one of my modifications." he confided to Timmy and me with a smile. An electric whirr started up and the stirrups began to move backwards, toward Nancy's head, accompanied naturally with plenty of anguished protests from Nancy. As her widespread legs were pulled back, Nancy's hips started to be pulled up and back, until finally her bottom crack and anus were pointing towards the ceiling, revealing that there was a small but significant amount of hair still to be removed.
Also revealed was the answer to an earlier question. I had wondered whether the tip of the dogwhip that I had used on her bottom back in the living room had perhaps caught her in an especially tender spot. Sure enough, the red stripe led right up to Nancy's "rear pucker", where the tip of the whip had clearly made rather painful contact.
"Start snipping, Timmy." said Dave with a grin. But instead of the scissors, Timmy held up the tweezers.
"Could I, please? Just on a couple of hairs?"
How could we refuse, especially after the wonderful trimming job he had done? It's true that no direct practical purpose would be served in allowing Timmy to yank out a couple of hairs from a very sensitive area, but we feel that anything that adds to the "aversive" quality of a discipline session is all to the good. We wanted Nancy to be determined to never go through this experience again.
As it was, we let Timmy pull out ten hairs, I guess as a nod to the decimal system. He picked ten closest to Nancy's wrinkled little bumhole. With each one he teased Nancy playfully by first pulling gently and then giving little pulls that increased in force until the hair came out by its root. It appeared that this experience was fairly distasteful for Nancy as she squealed and whimpered quite a bit with each teasing yank. Then when each hair was pulled out, she gave out a shrill scream and clenched her buttocks as hard as she could, quivering and sighing and begging Timmy to stop.
After that we finished up the shaving job and Nancy's nether regions were as smooth and hairless as the day she was born. Most impressive now was the plumpness of her pussy, and the prominence of her red clitoris. The area was clearly very robust and *did* appear to be showing signs of arousal.
"Well, Nancy, I hope you like your new look as much as we do." teased Dave, drawing a mournful moan from his unfortunate bottom up daughter. "Now, we have something a bit more serious to take up with you. When we began this session I told you that any hesitations or refusals on your part might have dire consequences for your bare bottom."
"No! No! I-I-I'll be good! I promise! Don't birch me!"
"We're not going to birch you, as it turns out. We're going to cane you."
"C-cane me? W-what's that?"
While this conversation was taking place I removed from a cupboard a long rattan cane that I had purchased only recently.
Besides believing very strongly in the effectiveness of corporal punishment for teenagers, Dave and I are big fans of variety in methods and implements. First, the fact that the culprit never knows exactly what his/her fate might be adds to their trepidation. Second, many times a punishment can be extended to a greater number of strokes by varying both implements and the parts of the body that are to be punished. Third, variety adds spice to the experience for the parent.
I had done some practicing with this new cane. I didn't want anything amateurish or awkward to be present in the first stroke that I was going to deliver to Nancy's tush. I wanted her to feel each stroke intensely, from the very first one. During practice sessions I had used a pillow for a target. I invented what I think is a very useful practice technique - perhaps your readers might like to know about it. I borrowed from my husband a container of purple powdered construction chalk - the kind that is used to "throw chalk lines". I coated the cane with the chalk, gave the pillow a good whack, and there was a nice purple line on the pillow. The chalk can be dusted off, by the way.
I practiced until I could produce parallel lines at one half inch spacing while still striking with almost maximum force, making a very pleasing "thock" as the cane struck. I also practiced hitting the same line more than once, figuring that this would probably produce especially interesting results on Nancy.
Dave said, "Timmy, why don't you warm her up with a good spanking?"
"Ohhhhh! No, not Timmy...."
Timmy gave our upended teenager a solid slap on her left bottom cheek.
Slap! "Oww!" Slap! "Owwww!" Slap! "Ouuuch!"
A flurry of very hard but evenly distributed slaps soon had poor Nancy's bottom and thighs turning pink and then red. Then Timmy started to focus on one spot on the inside of Nancy's right thigh. After about ten on this spot the pain seemed to become almost unbearable and Nancy was screaming, begging Timmy to stop.
Timmy didn't seem to have any interest in paying attention to such beseeching, and kept on punishing the same spot. It must have gotten twenty slaps in all before I told him to stop. The attacked area was a dark red and Nancy was writhing around and crying her eyes out.
Timmy backed away and I held up the cane for Nancy to peruse.
"Oh please, Mom, don't!"
"But Nancy, you *didn't* obey us like you should have, did you?" I was swishing the cane through the air, clearly terrifying the youngster.
"N-o, Mom, b-but I will from now on... a-and my bottom and legs already hurt a lot..."
Nancy was so wonderfully presented for the cane that there was really no chance that I would pass up this opportunity. Her new "bare look" made her look so deliciously vulnerable - only a superhuman could resist! Besides, I felt that Nancy really did need to suffer the consequences of her disobedience.
"Yes, I'm sure they do, dear, but I'm afraid I must make them hurt quite a bit more. You have to learn that disobedience during discipline is simply not tolerated."
I whipped the cane down across the lower part of her bottom, near her tailbone. Snap! A white line appeared almost immediately across both cheeks.
"Ahhhh! Ah! Ahhhgggg! Oh, stop! Stop!" as Nancy experienced the sharp, swelling pain in her bottom.
Quickly I gave her four more sizzling parallel lines across her well-positioned, well-spread butt, spaced about an inch apart. She yelled, moaned and pleaded in a frenzy, but to no avail. Dave and Timmy seemed fascinated by the frantic motions of Nancy's hindquarters. I paused and we watched as the color of the lines turned to red, and a set of raised welts formed. They looked as if they must be very painful. Nancy apparently thought so too as she had broken out into a sweat and was sighing and quivering between her moans.
"Will you ever be disobedient during discipline again, Nancy?" I asked.
"Ohhhh No! Oh No, No No NO!" Nancy cried.
"Well, just to make sure, I'm going to give you one more - six of the best, you know."
I decided I would try my hand at having the cane land on one of the already established welts. I swished the cane through the air a few times. With each swish, Nancy's butt contracted and twitched nervously. It was rather amusing and Dave and Timmy chuckled. I brought the cane down hard, with a deft snap of the wrist and it collided exactly on top of the middle of the five welts. Thwock!
If Nancy hadn't been fairly well secured, she would have gone through the roof. As it was she let out a terrific bellow and just about turned over the table she was tied to. It was a very satisfying reaction for me to witness, since I had put in some time practicing that stroke, and it was nice to see how effective it could be. It was quite a sight too - Nancy's big bottom writhing about madly. Of course with time I hope to become an even more effective caner. Nancy will be able to testify whether or not that comes true.
"Wow, Mom, her butt looks like it's corrugated!" observed young Timmy. And it was true, those weals were three dimensional!
"Just remember, Nancy, you have only yourself to blame for your sore bottom." I said to the writhing, weeping, red bottomed girl. "That wasn't part of our original program at all." This was technically true, although we had really been fairly confident that Nancy would incur this type of penalty at some point during the proceedings. "I must say, Nancy, you do present an interesting picture - would you like us to snap a photo so you can enjoy it later?" I said cruelly.
This only produced a slight increase in the crying volume.
Nancy was now ready for The Seat Of Learning. We untied Nancy and helped her off the table. She flinched and yelped when her sore bottom unavoidably rubbed against the table. She was pretty woozy and sore and could barely stand. Dave gave her an "affectionate" little smack on the bum, but it didn't seem to cheer her up at all!
Then Dave pulled the sheet off the second device - his pride and joy.
When you first see the Seat of Learning you might think that it is nothing more than a straight backed, armless, sturdy-looking wooden chair with a gaily patterned cloth "skirt" hanging from the seat. Next to the chair, you see what looks like an adjustable book or magazine "reading stand" - the kind that lets you read without using your hands, the "book holder" itself being adjustable up and down and which can swing out of the way or up as close to the reader's eyes as he or she desires.
"You're going to be sitting in this chair for the next fifteen minutes or so, dear." I said to Nancy as Dave and I helped her over to the contraption. Her legs were very wobbly.
"What is it?" she asked through her tears.
"You'll find out soon enough. I'll just say that it's a device to help you improve in your schoolwork." I said.
"I-I can't s-sit down - m-my b-bottom hurts real bad!"
Timmy snickered at this, "It looks pretty bad, too."
"Shut up, Timmy!" Nancy yelled.
Dave broke in, "Nancy, be polite, or else..."
"Now, Nancy," I resumed, "as to your sore bottom. I'm sorry about that, but you'll have to deal with it I'm afraid. Now before you sit down, I believe Dave has one little part that needs to be added."
"Yes." said Dave, and reached into his pocket, from which he drew what looked like a rectal dildo, about four inches long, but which had some kind of metal connectors at the base. Nancy looked at it, not seeming to comprehend, but knowing from bitter experience that it probably bade her ill. He reached down and removed a disk shaped piece from about the middle of the chair seat and inserted the connector of the dildo into the hole. With a twist, it was locked into the chair so that the "business end" was pointing pretty much straight up.
"Wow, cool!" commented Timmy, "Looks like you're gonna get something up your butt, Nancy."
"W-w-hat is....h-how c-can I s-it...?" Nancy was having a hard time forming a complete sentence, and her boobs were bobbing with her rapid, frightened breathing. I could sympathize; it might be fairly disturbing to be told that you are going to sit in a chair that has a four inch long rectal dildo sticking up from the seat. It might make anyone a little concerned.
As if in answer, Dave began to lubricate the dildo with petroleum jelly. Nancy seemed to be turning pale as she watched. Her boobs bobbed even more.
"Don't worry, Nancy." said Dave, helpfully, "This little item is just to keep you from sliding around in the chair too much. You should be glad because it may keep you from bumping or rubbing your sore bottom.. You'll probably find that it's really very comfortable - once you're all the way on it. OK, bend over like a good girl, and I'll lube you up too! Remember, no hesitation, young lady."
All of us except Nancy laughed at this - Nancy was about to get a "lube job".
Nancy had apparently learned that she had to be obedient no matter what. She turned around so that her back was to Dave and bent her waist just a little, probably hoping that that would be far enough.
"Nancy, after the position you were just in, I'm surprised that you'd be at all squeamish about this." I said, "Now bend all the way over and spread your legs. Now, young lady." I ordered.
The poor girl obeyed, presenting her well-caned bottom, as well as her well-shaved cunt and anus, to Dave. I reached over and with both hands pulled Nancy's bum cheeks even further apart. I noticed that she gave a little whimper when my hands grabbed onto her welted flesh. Her bumhole was tiny, pink and wrinkled. Dave extended a well lubricated finger and with very little preamble shoved it up Nancy. She raised up on her toes, drew in a hissing breath, and then let it out with a couple of "Ah!'s" and "Oh's" as Dave rotated his finger inside her bottom, removed it, got another glob of lubricant and shoved it right back in. Finally he made sure that the entrance was also very well lubricated.
"Good girl!" he said, and gave her another "affectionate" slap on her tush, which made her squeal. "Now I think you're ready to have a seat!" Dave seemed quite excited about getting to really see how his invention would work. He eagerly took Nancy by the hand and positioned her so that she was ready to sit down.
"Sit, girl! Sit!" said Timmy.
"Now, Nancy." said Dave, a harder edge creeping into his voice.
Nancy began to squat down toward her new acquaintance, Mr. Dildo. She braced herself by holding on the sides of the chair seat as she sought to get her rear entrance positioned exactly over the dildo. Once she succeeded she started to let herself down, finding that she had to spread her legs pretty far to open things up. It seemed that the first inch was by far the hardest. She winced and squeaked a couple of times, but all in all, the lubrication did its job and Nancy was able to lower herself all the way down. She squeaked again as her sore bottom hit the hard chair seat, then she seemed to be concentrating on coming to terms with the feeling of the dildo inside her bottom, with much sighing and quivering.
"Ohhhhh, w-hat are you going to do to me now? It hurts." the poor thing wailed. She presented such an amusing picture, naked as she was with her shoes and socks still on and still bracing herself with her hands to minimize the pressure of the chair seat on her bottom. Also, she seemed to find it necessary for comfort to keep her legs well spread, probably not a posture she would have willingly chosen, given the unprotected state of her pussy.
For answer, Dave reached to a little control panel that was mounted on the reader pedestal. He flicked a switch. Nancy gave a surprised grunt, although one couldn't tell by looking what was happening to her.
"Owwww! Daddy, it hurts! Oh! Ooooh! Stop it!" Nancy yelled.
"Don't worry, dear, you'll get used to it. It's just to make you more secure." I attempted to console the poor thing.
I knew what had happened. The dildo was designed so that with the flick of a switch the part of it that was just above the sphincter muscle would expand slowly to about an inch and a half in diameter. The purpose was to further secure the hips of the "trainee". Nancy found out about this right away, because she tried to pull herself up off the suddenly quite uncomfortable item inside of her. She appeared horrified to realize how stuck she was and by what part of her body!
Dave now began to strap Nancy's legs to the chair at the thighs and ankles - fixing them so that they were spread even a little further apart than she already had them, while she whimpered and moaned in fearful anticipation. Nancy knew enough to be sure that The Seat Of Learning was going to be at the very least an uncomfortable experience for her. In a couple more minutes her legs, in their cute costume of shiny black shoes an white socks, were secured to the chair legs and her arms to the chair back. Dave seemed to take special care in pulling Nancy's arms back as far as they would go before securing them, so that Nancy's pretty young breasts would stick out.
"Ohhh! What a-a-are you going t-t-to do to me? Please tell me!" came the heartfelt plea.
No answer was forthcoming, except that Dave now knelt between Nancy's legs and fiddled with the front of the chair seat. A catch was loosened and Dave pulled out a rectangular section of the chair seat and set it aside. This left a gap about three inches wide running from the center of the front edge of the seat to well under Nancy's crotch. One effect of this was that her cunt was now hanging over empty space. It was also more clearly seen that this delicate organ was pouting a bit, due to the spread of Nancy's thighs, and exposing some of its pink, glistening inner tissues to whatever ministrations the cruel world chose to subject them to.
Since Nancy's big breasts prevented her from seeing the results of this very clearly, Timmy thoughtfully grabbed each nipple and pulled apart Nancy's breasts. "Here, Nancy, have a look!" he exulted. She gasped as she looked down at her plump hairless pussy and the empty spaces underneath it.
This is probably the best time to tell about how *I* was introduced to the Seat Of Learning about one week previous and how I helped Dave perfect it.
One day, after having spent many evenings in his workshop, Dave said he wanted to show me something and led me into the workshop. First Dave had me look at the seat of the chair. I saw nothing unusual - a fairly flat wooden chair seat with a cloth "skirt". Then he reached down and pulled a rectangular section out of the seat, about three inches wide and running front the middle of the seat-front back to a little past the very center of the seat. I was mystified, but excited at the same time. Clearly if someone were to sit on the chair after this slat had been removed his or her genitals would be hanging over empty space, although I had very little idea of what the implications of this might be.
Dave asked me if I would care to have a seat. I was a bit hesitant, but decided to go along with it and started to sit in the chair. He stopped me, and had me lift up my skirt and then sit down so that my underpants were resting on the chair seat (and my lightly covered pussy was, like I had thought, hanging out over the space left by the removed slat).
Dave gave me my bunched up skirt to hold onto and said, "Spread your legs, dear. A little farther. Good." My legs were spread about as far as they could go, hanging over either edge of the chair. Dave fastened each thigh to the side of the chair with straps that I hadn't noticed before. Then he fastened each ankle to the bottom of each front chair leg. I began to feel a bit nervous.
Then Dave rearranged my skirt so that I looked quite proper again. Only the ankle straps could be seen.
Next, he swung the "book holder" in front of me and raised it so that it was right in front of, and very close to my face. I noticed that it was not really a book holder, but... something else. In front of my eyes was some kind of a multiple choice test on what looked to be about a 2 foot by 2 foot piece of paper that was fitted into sliders. At the top of the test the title read "Biology, Week 6". Each question had five answers to choose from, with a little circle for each answer. However, these circles were actually holes in the page, and they actually fit directly over matching holes in the underlying material of the "holder". I looked into one of these holes, it seem to have metal sides and to be about a quarter of an inch deep.
Dave then pulled both arms behind the chair and attached my wrists to straps that had apparently been lurking there.
"Here's your 'pencil', darling." said Dave, handing me a pencil-like or pen-like object that had a wire coming out of its side. The wire went straight up to a bar I also hadn't noticed which led back into the pedestal holding the "book holder". Instead of a lead or a ball-point, the pen appeared to have a simple metal point. The other end was simply smooth, round plastic. I was clearly meant to take the round end in my mouth, which I did.
"Now, dear, the test is about to begin. When I start it, with this little switch, a little light will turn on by the first question. You will then have 30 seconds to read the question and push your pen into the hole next to the correct answer. If you miss that, there will be a penalty, and you'll then have ten seconds to try again. If you miss that, there will be another penalty, a bit stronger one. You'll then have ten more seconds for one more try, which, if you miss it, will result in a quite stronger penalty. As soon as you either answer a question correctly or exhaust your three tries, the focus will shift to the next question, and you will start again with thirty seconds. Good luck."
I wanted to say, "But wait, I'm not ready!" but I couldn't because of the pen in my mouth. Dave flipped the switch, and the "holder" adjusted itself so that the first question was right in front of my eyes and the five answer holes were within easy reach of the pen in my mouth. I read the question.
"The author of "On the Origin of Species" was: a) Isaac Newton b) Gregor Mendel c) Charles Darwin d) Michael Jackson e) Madame Curie
My mind went blank. I guessed and pushed the pen-point into the hole by letter "a". I felt something smack into my pussy, causing an intense, sharp, sting. I screamed in surprise and the pen fell out of my mouth. Apparently, Dave had thought this out, because the pen was hanging from the wire just below my chin. I was able to grab it with my teeth in a couple of seconds. I knew I had little time left and in a panic I picked "d".
Splat! Again my pussy felt something smack into it, but this time it was much harder. It hurt like the dickens! I yelled through my teeth, but somehow managed to hold onto the pen. The burning pain in my cunt made it hard for me to focus my eyes, but I managed to poke randomly - with a stroke of luck, I picked "c". My relief when I realized I was not going to get another "penalty" was deep and heartfelt.
I thought to myself, "My God! What would the next one have been like?" Then I noticed that the "holder" was moving the next question into place. I dropped the pen and begged, "Dave, please, stop! I've had enough!"
Dave reached behind the holder and flipped the switch. The lights went dim. I was shaking and my poor pussy was throbbing!
Dave began undoing my straps. He said, "Well, what do you think, my dear."
Through a haze, I managed to say, "It's very... effective."
"What do you think of the calibration? That is, are the strokes too hard, or too soft for maximum educational benefit?"
"I-I think... I think they're... well, maybe a little on the hard side, darling." I managed to say as the throbbing in my pussy continued, "Certainly we don't want to err on the side of laxness..., but we d-don't want to b-bruise Nancy's poor thing too badly." Gradually I was coming back to normal as the pain subsided to a dull throb. I began to get excited about the thought of Nancy sitting in the same spot I had been sitting in.
Dave seemed thoughtful. "Hmm, yes, you're right..."
"Let me see what was whacking me!" I requested as I rose awkwardly from the torture chair.
Dave pulled the cloth skirt from the chair - it was held on by velcro! Underneath the seat of the chair, bolted to the legs, was what appeared to be a light leather strap attached to a short metal arm on an electric motor. The strap was about 2 inches wide. So that was the object to which I owed my smarting puss!
"It has three speeds..." Dave began.
"That, I figured."
"They can be calibrated - I'll need your help to get it right."
"That's asking a lot, but I-I'll do it for the sake of Nancy's future."
Dave expanded a bit more on his concept. The "subject" could be completely clothed - as I was - so the "sessions" could take place in a "normal" family setting, in the den for example. Dad could be reading the New York Times in his arm chair. Timmy could be playing "Doom" on the computer. I could be reading the latest Danielle Steele novel. The "subject" would look like a normal schoolgirl doing her studies. OK, I admit that the fact that her hands would be tied behind her back and that she would be holding a pen with her teeth might look a bit odd, but other than that everything would appear normal.
Of course if the "subject" wasn't doing very well on the test, the *sounds* in the room would be anything but normal - a lot of snapping and a lot of squealing, along with perhaps some weeping and some pleading. Hopefully all of that would die down over a few weeks as the "subject" became more adept in her studies.
It took a few days - the calibration that is. I could only take a little bit at a time. We mostly used the slowest of the three speeds -varying it up and down - to save wear and tear on my little honey box. Dave had what I thought was a very useful suggestion. He noted that our goal was "maximum aversion" with "minimum injury". He noted that a stroke that causes "x" amount of pain through fabric and other impediments must be at a faster speed than if the impediments weren't there. For example, compare a stroke (stroke A)given to a target covered with 1) cotton panties and 2) a luxuriant growth of curly hair with a stroke (stroke B) given to an uncovered, completely bald target. If the strokes are set so that they cause an "equivalent" amount of pain, then stroke A must be stronger, or at a faster speed, than stroke B. But there will be another difference - the type of effect on the target. Stroke A, being harder and not hitting naked skin, will tend to have a "deeper", more bruising effect than stroke B, which will do more of its work on the surface of the target - producing more of a sting, but less likelihood of any long lasting effect. We agreed that the latter effect was what we were after.
The result of these meditations? We decided that Nancy would not be wearing either panties or hair on her pussy when she was in one of her "educational sessions". She could of course be dressed completely normally otherwise. This decision was made completely for Nancy's benefit of course, as were all of our efforts in this project!
All of these factors were included in doing our calibrations, including the fact that Nancy had an unusually plump and springy cunt, which was thus less susceptible to injury than mine. This fact allowed us to calibrate the speed upward a touch or two. Factoring in the fact that Nancy was younger and in general more robust than me allowed another notch upward. In addition, once we had come to what we thought was the optimal set of speeds, we notched them up a little bit more - so that we could be as sure as possible of the effectiveness of the treatment. We figured that we could always keep a close eye on the target area during Nancy's initial session to make sure that things weren't going too far.
This last requirement - being able to keep an eye on the "target area" - was what led us to decide that Nancy's first session would be in the nude. Yes, it's true that, strictly speaking, she only had to be naked from the waist down for us to have the view we needed. I suppose it was mostly considerations of aesthetics and symmetry that decreed that Nancy would be bare on top as well as on bottom. Another factor, actually, was that we felt that anything that added to the "aversive" quality of this first session would add to the "short, sharp shock" to quickly get Nancy going in the right direction. Certainly being naked in front of her dad and her hated younger brother would qualify!
Interestingly, after all of our work we ended up with a calibration which was just a notch or two below the original settings that I had found so "effective". We also experimented with the quality of the leather in the strap and decided on a thinner, lighter, smoother grade calculated to produce the greatest surface sting with the minimum of bruising and abrading.
During our testing we noticed that even though my legs were pretty securely attached to the chair, I could still move my bottom about a little - to the side, up and down, and even forward or back, and thus partially move my pussy out of the direct line of fire.. In order to have maximum effect, it was important that the strap and the "target" be properly aligned. We wanted the very tip of the strap, the fastest moving part of it, to connect right over the "subject's" clitoris. Obviously one couldn't have the subject moving the target area about very much.
Dave was equal to the task, and showed me his solution the very next day. The chair didn't exactly look normal anymore, for protruding upwards from the seat, at a strategic spot, was what appeared to be a longish, thin anal dildo. Again I was asked to "test it out". I agreed, but with some hesitation I must say. Dave thoroughly coated the object with vaseline and I after having removed my panties, and hoisted my skirt, very gingerly sat down, slowly impaling myself. Since the dildo was thin, it actually wasn't very difficult or painful.
As soon as I was completely seated, Dave said, "Comfy?" And before I could answer he flipped another of his infernal switches. To my amazement, I could feel the thing inside my rear expand, not to the point of pain, but it was suddenly fairly uncomfortable.
"The size increase ensures that you stay put." said my helpful husband, "Try getting up."
I tried. It was impossible. I was attached to the chair until Dave decided to let me go, since I couldn't reach the switch. Once Dave attached my legs and arms in their normal places I found that my vital parts were pretty much immobile. Then Dave carefully adjusted the length of the strap to fit my shrinking pussy.
"N-no need to actually spring it, Dave, I clearly can't move." I ventured with a weak chuckle, hoping to spare my poor, long suffering cunt.
"Ah, but you might struggle harder with a little incentive." he pushed a button.
"Ahhh!" I yelled. It was the slowest of the three settings, so I just felt a sharp but manageable sting in my pussy, but I also felt a bit of pain in the rear as I was unable to keep from jerking against the butt plug. It was abundantly clear that there was nothing I could do to take my pussy out of the direct line of fire. Our last technical problem was solved! And, by the way, Dave made the butt plug removable so that the chair could in fact be made to look perfectly normal between sessions.
A few more observations on the theory underlying the operations of the "Seat of Learning". It may occur to you, professor, and to your readers, that when a subject is engaged in a "learning session" she might find it very hard to concentrate on later questions after having received a penalty or two, especially if, for example, she managed to get a question wrong on all three tries. Recall, if you will (I hate to!) how difficult it was for me to remember what I was about after having only received two "penalties" in a row. (I still thank my lucky stars for getting that question right on the third try). Our feeling on this is - yes, it could easily happen that a "subject" could get very distracted by the sensations she might be experiencing, and that this might cause her to do worse on subsequent questions than she might normally have done. In fact, it could easily happen that a "subject" could become distracted enough to lose virtually all ability to concentrate. Well, we say, so much the more incentive for her to be much better prepared the next time. So much the more memorable the experience, the "aversive" effect of the session. And, yes, we admit it, so much the more enjoyable for us, for we believe that the parent should be allowed the right to enjoy as many aspects as possible of the otherwise exhausting and sometimes discouraging discipline process.
But now, let us return to our little naked teenage girl, whom we left still sitting (impaled?) on the Seat of Learning, her limbs tied, pretty much immobilized from the waist down, and desperately wondering exactly what was in store for her. Her breathing was rapid - causing her pink-tipped large breasts to rise and fall attractively, her legs well spread, giving a good view of her bald pussy, which was hanging over empty space. A shimmering sheen of sweat covered her smooth teenage skin. All in all, it was a pretty appetizing picture she presented, especially to Dave and Timmy I had no doubt.
I had a sudden urge, perhaps a somewhat cruel one, and I acted on it. Reaching down toward Nancy's knee I said, "Are you still as ticklish down here as you used to be, dear?"
"Y-yess! No! Mom! Mom, I'll wet myself!"
"You'd better not!"
"Agggghahahah! Agggghahahaha!" I tickled her knee remorselessly for about thirty seconds, during which time Nancy seemed ready to go off the deep end, laughing, screaming, begging me to stop. Wonderfully, even though her upper body was able to jerk around some, causing her boobs to flop from side to side, her hips and legs remained perfectly still. It was a successful experiment, except that I was mildly disappointed that Nancy hadn't disgraced herself by losing control of her bladder as she had threatened. Had this occurred, of course, extra punishment would have become necessary... regrettably...
"Cool!" said Timmy.
I turned to smile at Dave and noticed that he seemed to be staring in fascination at Nancy's crotch. "It's plumper than I thought." he mused, almost to himself.
"Dave," I said, "Don't we need to, uh, line things up?"
Nancy flinched again as yet another hand reached downward toward her vulnerable lap. This time it was Dave's hand and this time he reached between Nancy's legs and *underneath* the chair seat to pull out the end of the strap which was dangling from the arm of the electric motor. Nancy had not been able to see any of this mechanism because it was located just under her bottom. Her eyes widened as she saw Dave's hand return with the end of the leather strap. She gasped and became rigid with tension as he carefully pulled the strap up snug against her plump cunt. Poor girl! What must she have been thinking? Clearly she was putting two and two together. It must have been obvious that the strap and her pussy were going to have something to do with each other that probably wasn't going to be too pleasant for the latter.
The strap came about an inch short of where we wanted it, namely, such that the end would connect right over Nancy's pinkly erect clitoris. It had been perfect on me. Perhaps this short fall was due to the super plumpness of Nancy's tender organ.
"Oh, p-please t-tell me what you're going to do. PLEASE! Oh, please don't hit me *there* with that thing." Nancy pleaded.
Dave ignored her and, reaching under the chair, turned an adjusting wheel which moved the apparatus a little bit forward, until things were adjusted just right. He is a stickler for detail, especially when it comes to his children's education! We hope, Professor, that you haven't forgotten that this entire exercise was for the sake of Nancy's progress in school.
"There." Dave said, "That strap and your pussy are all lined up, Nancy. But I'm afraid I couldn't help but notice even more telltale moisture down there. Hmmm. And your clit seems a bit swollen." With that Dave filcked Nancy's clitoris sharply with his index finger, drawing an amusing squeak from the young captive.
"Eeeeek! Ohhh! Don't hit me *there*!"
Dave swung the reading board around, adjusting it so it was in easy reach of Nancy's face. He held out the electronic pen, "Open up Nancy."
Once she took it in her mouth he explained the test to her, referring vaguely to "penalties" for missing questions, but not detailing exactly what those penalties might be. It occurred to me that one difference in Nancy's situation with what mine had been was that Nancy was going to have to go through all twenty questions, whereas I had been allowed to stop after only one. Dave, Timmy and I sat ourselves on cushions right in front of Nancy so that we could monitor the "area of operations" - namely Nancy's plump, bare, slightly gaping cunt.
As anyone knows who has taken multiple choice tests, if you have anything like a clue about the subject matter you can almost always eliminate two of the five possibilities for any question. If Nancy could just do that much, she could assure that she would never feel the harshest of the three velocity settings. If you've done a moderate amount of studying, you can almost always narrow the choices down to two - in which case you would never have to experience any penalty worse than the slowest speed. Admittedly, even that speed produces a sting that one would definitely want to avoid, but it's much better than getting the other two in addition.
I'm afraid Nancy was especially poorly prepared. We had picked Biology for her first training session, because we knew it was her worst subject and that she skipped most of her Biology classes and never studied. She stared at the first question for the full thirty seconds, unable to make a choice, when Whap! came the first penalty - the strap made stinging contact with her pussy.
Nancy screamed and the pen fell out of her open mouth. She didn't even try to recapture it she was so surprised and so preoccupied with her physical sensations. As the next ten seconds passed we watched as Nancy's vulva turned a shade pinker than normal and listened to her moans and pleas, "Ohhhhhhh! That really hurt! Oh, stop, I can't stand it there!"
Whap! The second level penalty came into play.
"Agggghooowww!" the yell was torn from her as the intense smart radiated through her body from her crotch. This time she seemed to remember that her only chance was to answer the question correctly. She grabbed the pen with her teeth and almost blindly thrust it into one of the holes. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't the right one. The strap connected with the tender organ at the fastest of the three speeds. WHAP!
"Yeeeeeoowowww! Ow! OHHH! OW!" she roared and cried, again dropping the pen. You could tell by the straining of her thigh and calf muscles that she had a hard time holding down the jerking of her hips, but of course she had to because of Mr. Dildo. While the next thirty seconds passed, during which Nancy should have been reading the next question and attempting to answer it, we enjoyed listening to her cries and pleas for mercy and watching the coloration of her pussy move more toward the red end of the spectrum. It was clear that Dave had adjusted the strap correctly because the strap mark ended just past Nancy's clit.
With about ten seconds to go Nancy seemed to remember what she had to do. She grabbed the pen and attempted to read the next question. While she was reading time ran out and she got another first level penalty. This time she managed not to drop her pen even though she was obviously hurting quite a bit and gave a loud groan. Before the next ten seconds past, she made a choice. Alas, it was incorrect and she received another second level penalty. Whap!
This time she again dropped the pen as she yelled out and threw her head around in agony. She was just trying to grab it again, when she got her sixth penalty, level three - WHAP! She roared as one demented, begging, promising anything, for mercy. Meanwhile we watched her cunt turning darker red. It seemed to be swelling as well, although that could have been an optical illustion produced by the color change.
She was just picking up the pen again when the first level penalty for the third question hit. She jerked and yelled but held onto the pen. She had been prepared for that one, and seemed to realized that her only chance lay in holding onto the pen and doing her best to answer the test questions. She was covered with sweat, panting and trembling, trying to concentrate on the test. I could tell that the tears in her eyes were making it hard for her to read the questions.
As you might imagine, despite her desire to do well, the test did not go well for Nancy, although the rest of us found it very entertaining and exciting. She was just not prepared. She did manage to answer a few questions, once she gained the ability to hold onto the pen through her screams of agony (although she never did manage to hold onto it after a level three penalty). She passed out after the level three penalty on the second to the last question. Dave stopped the timer while I held smelling salts under her nose.
"Ohhhh! Where am I? Ohhh, my pussy is burning - it's on fire...Ohhh!" she complained, bringing a laugh from all of us. She gradually came back to consciousness and began weeping bitterly. I reminded her that she was taking a test and had one question to go. Dave flipped the chair back on. Frantically she read the last question and guessed. She was wrong. Whap! The strap made pitiless contact with Nancy's poor pussy.
"AAAAAYYYYYEOOOOW!" she roared as the pen fell out of her mouth. This was only a level one, but by now her cunt was extremely sore. as well as very very red, swollen, and slightly bruised. She couldn't seem to get the pen back in her mouth for either of the last two chances, both of which produced wonderfully dramatic audio-visual results. After the last one she fainted again. All in all she must have received some forty smacks - of which a good ten were level three. She had done very poorly, but I felt certain that improvement was just around the corner!
Dave flipped the switch to deflate the anal dildo and we helped pull/pry Nancy up out of the chair. We carried her to her bedroom and lay her on her back. She woke up when her sore bottom touched the sheets. Immediately she spread her legs wide to avoid squeezing her tender pussy. Dave took the time to adjust Nancy's socks, which had fallen down again.
Dave said, "Nancy, you had a miserable score on the test. I'm afraid you made less than ten percent. One of the rules of this training program is that you get an additional penalty when you get less than twenty percent or two additional penalties for less than ten percent. So you get two. Here's the first one."
And with that, Timmy and I each took a leg, pulled them apart and back, so that Dave had easy access to Nancy's most intimate areas. Her bumhole looked a bit red and a bit swollen, most likely owing to its encounter with the expanding dildo. Dave gently inserted a gelatin suppository well up her bottom, which seemed to still be quite well lubricated. Nevertheless Nancy must have been quite tender back there, because she yelled at the pain of the invasion.
"And here's the second." From an unmarked jar, he got a glob of white cream and started applying it to Nancy's swollen, tender pussy. She jerked and whimpered at the touch, but Timmy and I had her pretty secured so Dave could apply the cream thoroughly, including her clitoris and inner lips. He also rubbed some cream into and around her bumhole. It actually seemed to sooth her a bit... for the present.
The suppository contained a high concentration of ginger and the cream was extra strength Ben Gay.
Dave gave Nancy yet another of his "affectionate" slaps on the butt, drawing an anguished yelp from her, and Timmy and I released her legs. We left her alone, and waited downstairs. A few minutes later a series of high pitched screams and squeals reached our ears, the wonderful sounds of a teenage girl who was well on her way toward better grades and a promising future. (Music Swells).
For about a week Nancy demonstrated a pronounced tendency toward bowleggedness, but soon she was as good as new. Her study habits and her grades underwent immediate improvement.
As I write this Nancy is sitting on the Seat of Learning next to me, taking a Biology test. She is dressed in her school uniform as quite befits the proper young schoolgirl, except that I know that she has no panties and her cunt remains bare. So far she has answered 17 questions correctly... Oooops!. She just missed one! Often the last two or three questions are more difficult...
Is the Seat of Learning too harsh? Some might think so. We say, "How harsh is it to live your life second rate, to not get the best education that you can get? Isn't a short bit of pain worth a transformed life?" Nancy's life had already improved since her one-time encounter with the birch, and with the help of the Seat of Learning her grades have improved dramatically. For Nancy the Seat of Learning has been a tremendous aid to the focusing of her mind. Does she appreciate it? Not yet. In fact she hates it, but we are confident that one day she will thank us.
We're considering introducing The Seat Of Learning to the public via an infomercial.
One other question that might have occurred to you or your readers. Can or should the Seat of Learning be used with boys? We don't know yet, but we certainly feel that the need is just as great. Obviously it would have to be recalibrated, maybe redesigned. Timmy hasn't been in need of it as yet (although I think that he's starting to show signs of slippage in his school work), and my husband is strangely reluctant to act as an experimental subject, which doesn't seem at all fair to me. I have a vague idea for a modification to the Seat of Learning that might make it useful for boys involving replacing the strap with a pair of chopsticks. Perhaps Nancy would be willing to help in the design - what do you suppose? After all she's doing so much better in school now.
A Strict Mom
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