Letter From a Strict Mom

Letter From A Strict Mom I

Copyright 1997 - Max Smart - all rights reserved.

NOTE:  This is a PRETEND reply letter to a treatise that Dr. Simpson posted on
proper discipline techniques.  It describes fairly severe corporal punishment of
a teenage girl.  For those who are "strict" spankophiles, this story probably
goes beyond your interests, and I advise you not to read it.  This story is
COMPLETELY fantasy and intended only for the enjoyment of readers who enjoy
reading about this sort of thing.  Please don't read further if this type of
thing is not to your taste.  I do not intend to endorse or suggest that anyone
should in reality be treated this way by anyone, and I am in fact against all
forms of non-consensual corporal punishment for anyone, children or adults.

Actually, Dr. Simpson just summarized the article, and I'll summarize his
summary.  The article singled out the birch rod as the instrument of choice,
finding various faults with paddles, straps and canes.  It recommended that the
subject be restrained in such a way as to provide easy access to the naked
buttocks and so as to cause the buttocks to be spread as much as possible, thus
giving access to "all areas" of the subject's bottom.  The article recommended a
very systematic approach to ensure that all areas of the bottom received equal
treatment.  The approach was to start at the far left and gradually move toward
the center and then all the way to the right (for a righty).  It also
recommended using vertical, rather than horizontal, strokes to discipline the
area between the cheeks, and in fact suggested that the disciplinarian might
linger in this area, depending on how "shameful" the subject's misbehavior had
been.  The article *did* caution against allowing the blows to reach the
genitals of the subject, but apparently the anus was deemed fair game.  One more
thing.  I don't believe Dr. Simpson's summary said anything about the discipline
being discussed being for any particular age group, but for the purpose of the
following FANTASY letter, I am pretending that the article was about the
discipline of teens.   In fact since I only read the Dr. Simpson posting once I
probably have some other details wrong as well.

 Letter From A Strict Mom

Dear Friend,

I read with interest your article on your recommended method of disciplining
teens.  I came upon it at an interesting time because my husband and I were just
about reaching the end of our rope in attempting to deal with our 15 year old
daughter Nancy.  She had become just about unmanageable and seemed to get worse
by the day.  We had tried everything we could think of including long periods of
grounding, without success.  We had never used corporal punishment, but were
gradually coming to the opinion that it was our last resort. However, we had no
idea how to go about it!  Then I saw your article, showed it to my husband, and,
to make a long story short, proceeded to put it into practice as best we could. 
We thought you might like to hear of our experience.

After reading your article we did a little more research, learning about various
other methods of disciplining naughty youngsters, such as handspanking,
strapping, paddling, or caning.  All of these seemed to have appeal, but we felt
that things had come to such a pass with Nancy that only a "short, sharp shock"
of some severity would have any affect on her.  We found an article on the
construction of birches and proceeded to try our hands at it.  Fortunately there
are a number of birch trees on our property and we had the luxury of trying
various types and sizes of twigs.  After six or seven attempts we came up with a
birch that looked as if it might make a teenager girl take serious notice.  It
was wonderfully thick and each twig was liberally adorned with sharp buds.  My
husband generously offered to give me a couple of swishes with it on my bare
bottom, which I accepted with trepidation.  My goodness!  What a smart!  And
only from two strokes!  I didn't need or want anymore convincing!  My bottom
burned and stung and was covered with many fine red lines and darker marks where
the buds had bit cruelly.  We were confident that Nancy was in for an experience
that she would not want to repeat anytime soon, and, I might add, one that she
richly deserved.  We constructed another birch which was at least as formidable
as the first one, and then we made one more - a delicate, light rod - short,
thin and graceful, with only 8 thin twigs, from which I carefully removed all of
the hard buds.

Your article suggested an appropriate and useful restraint posture for the
"subject", as you so quaintly refer to the naughty culprit, but didn't go into
detail as to how to achieve this.  My husband needed only a couple of hours to
put felt padding on the top bar of one of his sawhorses and to attach
restraining straps to the bottoms of each of the four legs.  This might be a
little small for a taller girl, but Nancy is only 5'3", so we estimated that it
would work fine, especially since her legs would be spread wide apart, thus
further reducing the height of her pelvis, which was ideally supposed to rest on
the padded top bar.  My husband also fixed the sawhorse to the floor of his
workshop so that there would be no danger of it tipping over if Nancy struggled
a great deal.  I have to admit that I secretly hoped that she WOULD struggle a
great deal. I'm afraid I was quite put out with her.

I was especially put out with her for the following reason. We had just found
out that Nancy had been stealing the lunch money of her little brother Timmy,
who is only 12 years old, for the past month.  He had been afraid to tell us
because Nancy had threatened that she would "de- pants" him at school in front
of his classmates if he told! In fact, he was sure she wasn't bluffing because
she had once "de-pantsed" him (including his underwear) in front of several of
her girlfriends and made him dance for them.  Then they had taken turns tweaking
his penis! This was, needless to say, appalling to us.  We decided that it would
only be fair if Timmy got to witness Nancy's comeuppance, and perhaps even
partake in it.  It was also only fair for him to get to see her "de-pantsed",
since she had done the same to him.

To jump to the conclusion, let me give you my most heartfelt thanks.  The
treatment worked wonders. Nancy's behavior (once she recovered from her
discipline) has improved tremendously.  Of course it's not perfect, and we
suspect that we may have to repeat the treatment again one day, as a kind of
"booster"; but we are confident that we now have an effective means of managing
Nancy.

Nancy is a pretty girl, with blond "valley girl" looks and mannerisms.  She has
quite a voluptuous figure for her age, with well developed bust and hips.  She
can get very pouty and whiny when she doesn't get her way, and seems to be able
to produce crocodile tears on demand that on occasion in the past had managed to
fool her father into giving her her way.  This hadn't been working so much
lately, however, because he had been getting so annoyed with her behavior.  As I
mentioned above, she had never received any kind of physical discipline up to
the episode under discussion.

It was also the case that she had not been naked in front of her father in about
five years.  This was of course a proper state of affairs, and we certainly
subscribe to conventional ideas of decorum and feminine modesty. However we have
come to believe, partly thanks to your very informative article, that when a
young culprit crosses a certain line in terms of repeated bad behavior, he or
she forfeits any right to modesty or dignity when it comes to his or her
punishment for that behavior.  We assume that you will concur with us in this
opinion.  In fact your insistence that the buttocks of the "subject" should be
bare and "well spread" makes me sure that you would agree with us in this
matter.

On the fateful evening that I will describe we confronted Nancy with her most
recent offense when she entered the dining room for dinner.  Her response was at
first denial and then defiance, neither of which helped her case, let me tell
you.  My husband and I were not in the mood for wasting time with idle talk and
argument.  We quickly grabbed her, to her great surprise,  and, with little
Timmy's help, managed with amazingly little difficulty to drag her into the
workshop.  Nancy was yelling bloody murder, but it didn't much matter because we
live in a fairly isolated rural error, out of earshot of the nearest neighbor. 
By the way, supper wasn't getting cold - we hadn't really planned on having
dinner until after we had dealt with our young bad girl.

While my husband and I held Nancy reasonably immobile (me holding her arms and
him holding her legs) Timmy proceeded to unbutton, unsnap, untie and unzip
wherever it was strategically useful.  You see, Nancy was to be stripped naked,
which we realize was not called for in your article.  We are interested in your
opinion of this. In this particular case we felt it was appropriate because of
Nancy's offense toward poor Timmy.  She had "de- pantsed" him in front of her
girlfriends, which for a boy was equivalent to exposing "all he had".  Thus it
seemed only fair that Nancy would be showing "all she had" to the offended party
- Timmy.  Timmy, by the way, was almost beside himself with enjoyment and
excitement. He was about to get a most exquisite revenge for a serious wrong,
plus he was about to get a real life lesson in female anatomy.  It was a
red-letter day for him!

Nancy struggled, yelled and threatened during all of this. We paid no attention
to her.  When her clothes started coming off with an efficiency that must have
seemed wondrous to her, her tone began to change and she occasionally
interspersed her threats and demands with a plea for mercy.  Again we paid no
attention.  When she was reduced to a well stuffed bra and skimpy pink panties
she began to beg us to not expose her naked.  "Not in front of Timmy!  Not in
front of Daddy!  Please!"  Her pleas were to no avail.

Finally we had everything off and Nancy was exposed to the world - our small
world.  Timmy's eyes were as big as saucers as he unabashedly let them rove up
and down, from Nancy's full, upstanding breasts with their large reddish brown
aureoles and nipples down her belly to her cunt, with it's light covering of
blond hair.  Nancy blushed furiously and cried from embarrassment.

She seemed to become demoralized at this development and temporarily ceased
struggling, which was fortunate for us because it made it easier for us to get
her bent over the saw horse and to get her wrists and ankles securely strapped
to the legs of the horse.  Wonderfully, it was a perfect fit and the effect
seemed to be just what your article recommended, namely, "subject's" bottom was
bare and well presented, and the cheeks were well spread, giving access (as well
as quite a view!) of all areas of the bottom.  Of course a "side" effect of this
was that her young, plump, succulent pussy was also on public display.

Timmy and my husband seemed fascinated.  I was gloating.  Nancy was weeping. 
Well, we would give her something to weep about in just a bit!

As your article noted, with the buttocks well spread the overall area of
operations was quite large indeed and it seemed like it might take quite a few
strokes to achieve the complete "coverage" that you recommend.

I removed the two heavier birches from their salt water bath.  I shook them
well, scattering water droplets in all directions.  Then I doused each birch
liberally with an anti-bacterial agent, with the dual purpose of, one, reducing
the risk of infection in the places where the skin might become raw or even
broken, and, two, of increasing the burning sting in those very places. Actually
I was aware that the salt water bath was also supposed two have these twin
effects, but I wanted to make sure of both!  As I have mentioned, I really was
QUITE put out with Nancy.

We took the liberty of adding another "enhancement" to the procedure presented
in your article.  Since I am right handed and my husband is left handed, we
decided to birch Nancy together at the same time, with each of us taking the
buttock that was in most easy reach.  Thus I stood to Nancy's left in
preparation to whip towards the center and my husband did the same from the
right.  We placed a comfortable chair directly behind Nancy for Timmy to sit in. 
It provided a very enlightening view for the youngster.  You might call it a
"box" seat!  Timmy seemed to be in heaven.  His eyes were riveted to the vista
before him.

I took care to remind Nancy that it was her "de-pantsing" of her brother that
was responsible for her current embarrassing predicament.  And I took pleasure,
I must admit, in making sure she realized (which she probably already did) what
an interesting view Timmy was getting. This seemed to have the effect of making
Nancy's sobbing even more bitter, and I thought I could detect a fruitless
attempt on Nancy's part to close her legs and clench her bottom cheeks together,
hoping, I guessed, to somewhat diminish the scope of the view that she was
offering Timmy.

My husband and I commenced the birching.  We applied severe strokes right from
the start.  Right away Nancy seemed to be finding this new experience to be not
at all to her taste.  At first she responded with little exclamations of "Ah!"
"Owww!" "Don't! That hurts!" while the first sets of fine red lines began
appearing on the sides of her lovely white tush.  As the strokes progressed and
we and the twigs began moving closer to Nancy's central area, Nancy's reactions
became more intense.  She began yelling loudly with each blow, or double blow,
and moaning and crying loudly between them as well as begging for us to stop,
when she could find her voice.  She was starting to writhe about quite a bit,
her lovely large boobs swinging about like pendulums.  We also noticed that the
outside parts of her bottom, which had received the ends of the twigs on the
initial blows, were continuing to be bombarded with the "bodies" of the twigs
and thus were becoming quite raw indeed, with tiny droplets of blood appearing
in one or two places.  We stopped briefly and discussed this.  We decided that,
while our intent was not to draw blood, perhaps a little bit of broken skin was
really unavoidable if the girl was really going to get her well-deserved
punishment.  We continued remorselessly and systematically, to thoroughly birch
Nancy's blooming bottom.

Having covered all of Nancy's now squirming, writhing bottom, except for the
sensitive area between her cheeks, with a confused mass of red lines and puffy
weals, but without having exhausted our birches, my husband and I again
conferred.  We felt that Nancy's extreme naughtiness required that she receive
somewhat more birching from us, but we didn't want to cause further damage to
the red and purple mess that was now her buttocks.  Thus we decided finish up
with a thorough treatment to the backs and insides of her delicate thighs.

Nancy seemed to dislike this even more, if possible, struggling most desperately
(putting on an entrancing show for young Timmy, I'm sure, who could see just
about everything, including the free swinging boobs bouncing about) and almost
roaring with agony.  We ignored her protests and proceeded to "paint" her thighs
as thoroughly as we could, with bold, sweeping, SNAPping strokes, until her
formerly pale thighs were a fitting match for her bottom - red and purple again
being the dominant theme of the color scheme, all up and down the backs and
insides from just above her knees to just under her exposed and slightly pouting
pussy.  We stopped and contemplated the interesting spectacle before us,
listening with satisfaction to her heartrending cries of "I'm dying! I'm dying! 
You're killing me!  Ohhhh, it hur-r-r-r-ts!"

It finally seemed as if we were getting through to the dear girl, and I now felt
confident that Nancy had been sufficiently punished for her bad behavior.

And Timmy?  Quiet as a mouse he was, eyes on the prize, his heavy breathing
giving evidence of his excitement and enthrallment.

Now we realize that in your article you recommended not being shy about
punishing the sensitive areas between the bottom cheeks.  In fact you took the
trouble of suggesting a technique, and recommended that the amount of attention
given to this area should be dependent to some extent on just how "shameful" the
"subject's" actions had been.  You must be wondering if we had decided to ignore
this particular bit of advice, since I have just said that at this point I felt
that Nancy had been sufficiently punished.

Please have no such fear.  To be more clear, what I should have said was that I
now felt that Nancy stood even as to her debt to my husband and me for all of
the anguish she had put us through, and that we felt that she now had an
extremely strong incentive to mend her behavior in the future.  That squirming,
wriggling, swollen, red and purple, slightly bleeding expanse of skin before us
was going to be very sore for quite a while!

However, we still felt that the matter of Nancy's offense to Timmy remained to
be settled, and we felt that it was best settled between Timmy and Nancy.

I solemnly informed Nancy that her father and I felt that she was now
sufficiently punished for her offenses toward us.  Nancy gave a small sigh of
relief amid her bitter sobbing and moaning, along with a whispered, "Oh, thank
God!", almost to herself.  I must be a natural disciplinarian, because I must
admit I took great pleasure in crushing this small hope of relief with my next
statement.  I informed her that it was now Timmy's turn to punish her for her
treatment of him.

Nancy's and Timmy's reactions couldn't have been more different.  For Nancy's
part, I honestly believe that in her agony she had completely forgotten that her
hated little brother had been enjoying her humiliation and agony from the
catbird seat.  Now that she was reminded of his presence, I feel sure that her
sense of mortification rushed back into her consciousness and took its place
beside the equally intense awareness of her intolerably stinging and throbbing
bottom and thighs and beside her sudden new fear of more agony and indignity to
come.  Her moans and pleas to be let off "just this once"  and her promises to
always be good to us and to Timmy, were wonderful to hear.

Timmy, on the other hand, looked as if he'd been given that pony he had been
asking for so long.  His eyes brightened.  "Really, mom?  Can I whip her too? 
Oh, goody!  I'll make her jump!"  This was clearly a great thrill to the little
man.

At this point we feel the need to perhaps suggest that you might add just a
little bit of information to your suggestion of a technique for punishing the
area between the bottom cheeks.  You suggest lengthwise strokes, which of course
makes sense, but you neglect to say whether the strokes should be delivered with
the tip of the birch pointing "upward" that is toward the "subject's" head, or
"downward", toward the floor.  Also, we found that with Nancy in her current
position, such that her bottom crack was primarily oriented in a vertical
direction, it would be awkward to deliver strokes to the area.  It was clear
that it would be better if Nancy's bottom could be oriented in a more horizontal
position, so that lengthwise strokes could be applied downward from directly
above.

We solved this latter problem through my husband's ingenuity.  Apparently he had
already considered it, the sly dog!  He detached the strap on Nancy's right
ankle from the leg of the sawhorse, leaving the strap still firmly wrapped
around her ankle.  I then realized that the straps were attached to clips on the
sawhorse legs, and that there was another set of clips about a foot higher.  He
reattached the ankle to the higher clip and then repeated the process with the
other ankle.  This had the amusing effect of forcing Nancy to kind to poke out
her ravaged hindquarters.  She moaned with her awareness of further
embarrassment.  However, I didn't see that it solved our dilemma.  The target
area was still not conveniently placed.

Then he went around to Nancy's front and, with each wrist, detached it from the
front leg and reattached it to the clip on the sawhorse leg that her ankle had
just been clipped to.  Now his scheme was clear.  Basically, he had rotated our
young culprit forward about thirty degrees. Nancy's head was almost touching the
floor directly beneath the padded crossbar and, more to the point, her bottom
was rotated so that the dividing grove was much closer to horizontal in
orientation than vertical.  It was much more accessible to a natural birch
stroke.  Perhaps your readers may be able to benefit from our method of solving
this difficulty.  We certainly hope so!

One amusing side effect of this position was that Nancy's rather sizable boobs
now hung down in her face, which was getting quite red, probably because of the
blood rushing to it in this new and probably somewhat uncomfortable position. 
Also, Nancy seemed to dislike the position quite a bit and begged us to
extricate her from it.

Another side effect of Nancy's new position is that it is now difficult to
decide which side of the sawhorse should be designated the "front" and which the
"back".  The side that we previously would have called the back side was now the
side that Nancy was facing, and the "front" side was now where you could see her
back!  It seems to be simplest to continue referring to back and front as they
were.  That is, my husband and I had been operating on Nancy from the back and
the other side was the front.

Now we must discuss with you our one real difference with you.  It is really a
simple matter.  You suggest that the area between the well spread buttocks of
the "subject" should be attended to more or less at the disciplinarian's
discretion, based on his or her opinion on just how "shameful" the behavior of
the "subject" has been.  But you also counsel that care must be taken to avoid
any blows striking the "subject's" genitals.  Our finding, based on simple
anatomy and on simple experience, is this:  if the anus receives the kiss of the
birch, it is very hard, if not impossible, to avoid having the genitals also
receive some attention.  The twigs are of different lengths.  To some extent
each twig arranges itself as it will on the downstroke.  In short, they are a
bit hard to control.

In addition to these difficulties, we found that, on reflection, we had trouble
seeing the point of your insistence on caution.  It seemed to us that the anus
is just as sensitive and delicate an organ as are the genitals, at least in
girls.  Why deem one to be fair game and not the other?  We certainly agreed
with you in principle that making use of the more sensitive areas of the
"subject's" anatomy to emphasize a point about particularly reprehensible
behavior could be extremely effective in leaving a lasting memory and producing
an immediate improvement in behavior.  We just couldn't understand your
particular distinction, not to mention the fact of the difficulty of
implementation.

Our solution?  Well to put it colloquially, we decided that Nancy's naughty
little pussy as well as her bumhole must pay their fair share of restitution for
her bullying of poor Timmy, particularly given the nature of her offense against
him; however, in view of the sensitive and delicate nature of the areas in
question it seemed obvious to us that they should not receive strokes that were
equivalent to what her buttocks and thighs had received. Either a much lighter
or less punishing instrument must be used or else the strokes must be delivered
with much more restraint, or both.  After all, we wanted to teach Nancy a
valuable lesson, but we didn't want to injure her!

Now I think you may be understanding the reason that we made the third, more
delicate, birch.  It was meant to sting like the dickens without doing serious
damage.  In addition, Timmy was only 12 years old and I felt sure that he
wouldn't be delivering blows with the force that we had.

We directed Timmy to deliver ten strokes, and to deliver them "wherever he felt
they would do the most good" . While saying this I clearly outlined with my
index finger the area that he was to consider his "field of operations", taking
care not to touch Nancy and thus forewarn her.  I included all of the sensitive
skin between Nancy's well spread bottom cheeks, including her deliciously
vulnerable little anus, which was now pointing directly upward, as well as all
of her well presented slightly gaping pussy.  We felt that it was only fair to
give Timmy a certain amount of leeway and control in the administration of this
phase of Nancy's punishment, since he was the injured party.  If he felt that
some leniency was appropriate, he was free to give it.  If not...well...

I don't believe Nancy had the slightest idea exactly what she was in for.  She
certainly knew from my husband's and my conversation with Timmy that more
punishment was coming to her, but I expect that she was bracing for more pain in
her throbbing bottom cheeks or her aching, burning thighs.  She was softly
moaning "No more! Please, no more!  I'm sorry Timmy!"  as I gave Timmy his
instructions.

Whatever.  She certainly had no doubts after Timmy's first stroke, which
delivered from "behind" the poor girl and which seemed to be centered right on
her delicate rosebud.  I'm afraid Timmy surprised me a bit with the force of the
stroke.  It came down with fairly serious speed and made quite a loud snap as it
bit into its target.  I should have realized that Timmy's skill at tennis would
translate naturally into an effective birch stroke.   The previously untouched
area between the cheeks of Nancy's bottom were now decorated with a confusion of
thin red lines.  I briefly consider telling Timmy to go a bit more lightly, but
after all the birch was a light one and Nancy had been VERY bad...

Nancy's reaction to this was to scream like a banshee and commence struggling
desperately against her bonds. Timmy delivered 5 forceful strokes in the same
general area, each one eliciting a louder scream from the "subject" than the
previous one.  After the fifth one Timmy calmly walked around to the other side
of the screaming, jerking, bawling valley girl so that he could deliver strokes
from the opposite direction (the "front"), but still parallel with the "groove"
.  During this pause it was clear that the area between Nancy's buttocks had
clearly gotten some serious attention, including her anus, which was now a
bright red.  Not only that, but her pussy had clearly suffered as well, at least
the part that was nearest her bumhole.

Now came the sixth stroke.  This one landed square on Nancy's pussy so that the
tips of the birch curled around and bit into the exposed clitoris.  If Nancy's
scream before had been like a banshee, now it was like a banshee in heat, almost
deafening.  Her struggles to get loose were so violent that I was afraid that
the sawhorse would be pulled from its moorings.  No such luck for Nancy, though; 
my husband is good carpenter!  Immediately the plump pussy sported a set of fine
red lines and became flushed.  Each of the next four strokes landed in the same
area with considerable force, each producing fearful screams and energetic
struggles and deepening the coloring on Nancy's little treasure.  It seemed
impossible, but Nancy's scream with each stroke sounded louder than the previous
one.

As you may imagine, Nancy's color scheme for her rear quarters was now much more
pleasing.  Her thighs and buttocks were a mass of red and purpling stripes,
weals and bruises, with the odd little droplet or trickle of red blood here and
there.  The tender central areas were not nearly as ravaged, but had been turned
to various shades of striped red, with occasional purple flecks where the tips
of the twigs had done their cruel work.  Nancy continued bawling and moaning
loudly for a few minutes but gradually the volume diminished into sobs and
whimpers.  And she couldn't seem to keep still - restlessly her colorful
hindquarters continued a kind of grinding dance for our entranced eyes.  At this
point I felt confident that a thorough reformation was assured!

Just to make sure that the lesson really sank in (even though there really
wasn't much doubt), it was decided that Nancy would be grounded for a week, and
that she would remain naked from the waist down at all times.  In addition,
Timmy was allowed the right to pinch or hand slap Nancy's bottom or to goose her
whenever he felt like it.  It turned out that he felt like it quite often!

As I noted earlier,

"The Seat Of Learning"
Letter From A Strict Mom II

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"Letter From A Strict Mom" introduced young Nancy and detailed her first taste of 
physical discipline and of the birch twigs. Her adventures continue...OK I know se-
quels 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...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Professor,

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 deci-
sion 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 experi-
ence was quite a bit different from the rest of ours. Dave, Timmy, and I enjoyed our-
selves 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 anticipa-
tion 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 re-
member that it is all for your own good, for your future. If you'll just recall how effec-
tive 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.

"Y-yes, dad."

"Now, for starters, we'll have your clothes off." he said calmly, as if he were com-
menting on the weather, then he called out, "Oh Timmy, would you join us in the liv-
ing 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 disci-
pline 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."

"Ohhhhh!"

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 re-
ceded 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 im-
pulse 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 disci-
pline"

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 ses-
sions. 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 de-
licious 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 sud-
denly 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, at-
tention.

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 disap-
pointment 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 house-
hold." 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, deli-
cate 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 to-
gether 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 pu-
bic 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 prominent, 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 you 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 im-
mediate 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 nip-
ples 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 un-
der discipline should be kept either in tears or almost at the point of tears as con-
tinuously 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 gynecolo-
gist'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 de-
vice. 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 gynecolo-
gist's examination table is a wonderful tool, especially when combined with the pres-
ence 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 situa-
tion, 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 got-
ten 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 grab-
bing 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 it down onto Nancy's two day shadow.

"Yeeeooowwwww!" was Nancy's comment. She bucked with all her might and suc-
ceeded 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 signifi-
cant 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, draw-
ing 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 teen-
agers, 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 trepida-
tion. 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 pun-
ished. 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 ses-
sions 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?" "Sure, Dad!"

"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 deli-
ciously 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 sigh-
ing 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."

"Ohhhhhh, noooo!"

I decided I would try my hand at having the cane land on one of the already estab-
lished 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 prac-
ticing 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 wob-
bly.

"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 com-
plete 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 squeam-
ish 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 ex-
tended 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 an-
other glob of lubricant and shoved it right back in. Finally he made sure that the en-
trance 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 ex-
cited 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 en-
trance positioned exactly over the dildo. Once she succeeded she started to let her-
self 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 cou-
ple of times, but all in all, the lubrication did its job and Nancy was able to lower her-
self 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 un-
protected 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 at-
tempted 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 tis-
sues 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 slot had been removed his or her genitals 
would be hanging over empty space, although I had very little idea of what the impli-
cations 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 an-
swers 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 sec-
onds 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 ques-
tion 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 re-
alized 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 no-
ticed 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 tor-
ture 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 eve-
rything 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 sugges-
tion. 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 impedi-
ments 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, com-
pletely 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 ef-
fect 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 ex-
perimented 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 at-
tached 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 strate-
gic 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 uncomfort-
able.

"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.

Whap!

"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 ex-
perience, 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 dis-
couraging discipline process.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

But now, let us return to our little naked teenage girl, whom we left still sitting (im-
paled?) 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 attrac-
tively, 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 dis-
appointed 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 be-
come 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?"

"Oh, yeah."

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 in-
dex 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 "pen-
alties" 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 possi-
bilities 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 moder-
ate 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 re-
capture 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 illusion produced by the color 
change.

She was just picking up the pen again when the first level penalty for the third ques-
tion hit. She jerked and yelled but held onto the pen. She had been prepared for that 
one, and seemed to realize that her only chance lay in holding onto the pen and do-
ing 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 abil-
ity to hold onto the pen through her screams of agony (although she never did man-
age 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 com-
plained, 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 addi-
tional 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 an-
guished 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 bowlegged-
ness, 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 tre-
mendous 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 re-
designed. 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.

Sincerely,

A Strict Mom

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