"Well, I just hope that you're telling the truth. When your Uncle Dave or I ask you a question, you must answer with complete honesty. That is part of self-discipline. Are you being completely honest, Jenny?"

I seemed to notice a painful hesitation before Jenny responded, "Y-yes ma'am.", her face as red as a beet. It was exciting to note how easily embarrassed she was, and to realize that she was quite probably lying.

I showed Jenny to her room. It was a small guest room upstairs. Since we didn't feel that any excess luxury would be advantageous in Jenny's "treatment", the room was fairly Spartan. It had a small bed with a firm mattress and a small chest of drawers. I left her to unpack and do what she could to come to terms with her new situation.

At dinner, Jenny was very quiet, and the rest of us made a point of not talking about the subject that was uppermost on ALL of our minds, namely, what was in store for the young teenager. Jenny went to bed right after dinner.

The rest of us immediately retired to the TV room. I believe I neglected to mention that we had installed a hidden video camera in Jenny's room, with a wide angle lens. Dave flipped on the receiver and we were just in time to watch the lovely Jenny, quietly sobbing all the while, begin to disrobe.

First she let down her lovely black hair, which fell to the middle of her back. Then she removed her sweater and shirt, exposing an amazing pair of breasts, very large but firm and assertive, encased in a sturdy white bra. Then came the shoes and socks. Then the skirt. In her bra and conservative white panties, Jenny revealed that she had a superb figure - broad hips, thin waist, and large, firm breasts.

We were disappointed to see her pull her nightdress on OVER her underwear, and then remove the panties and bra from underneath. Apparently she was even modest in private. Jenny got into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. She switched off the lamp next to her bed and the only light remaining was the little night light that I had left there.

The video equipment that we had installed was designed to give good images in poor light so we were still able to see Jenny as she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She was still crying quietly. Perhaps she was a bit worried about what her visit would be like!

"Look! The covers are moving!" said Timmy.

Sure enough, if you looked closely you could see a small, rhythmic movement disturbing the covers. The center of the motion seemed to be right at Jenny's crotch area. It appeared that the dear girl was masturbating! I had not expected this good fortune!

As Jenny proceeded with her self-pleasuring the movements became more energetic. She began to breathe more heavily. She arched her back. Her knees came up and apart, and, wonderfully, the covers fell down from her knees, exposing her. It seemed that her night dress had fallen down the other side of the slope, and all of a sudden we had an unobstructed, although dim, view of Jenny's naughty little hand furiously at work on her surprisingly hairy cunt. In a few more seconds, with a choking moan, Jenny came.

After her orgasm Jenny's head fell over on its side, her hands fell to the bed, her knees fell completely apart. Whatever modesty Jenny may have previously exhibited was now forgotten as her sopping cunt lay exposed to our collective gaze.

There was silence for a few seconds until, "I think that we'll want to save THIS tape." observed Nancy.

"Will we have to punish her for that, Mom?" Timmy asked hopefully.

I replied, "We don't punish girls and boys for doing natural things that don't hurt anyone, like masturbating. The problem is that Jenny lied to us in saying that she didn't masturbate, unless of course that was her first time. I don't think it LOOKED like her first time. Anyway, I clearly warned her that she must be perfectly honest with us, therefore she will most certainly be receiving extra punishment for dishonesty."

Yes, Professor, it is true that Dave and I don't believe that children should be taught that sex and/or pleasure are bad. However, in a punishment situation, where humiliation is an important component, we find that it can be very useful to make the most of a subject's natural modesty and shyness about sex. And in a case where a culprit has been willfully dishonest about their sexual proclivities it would be doubly appropriate, don't you think?

Another aspect of our plan for Jenny involved suspense, uncertainty and fear. When a subject doesn't know for sure what is going to happen to her (or him), she will agonize over the possibilities. "They might do such and such to me! Oh, no, they would never do that! It's too indecent! But what if they would? And if they'd do that, they might even do..." and so on.

We would not be informing Jenny of what was in her future until absolutely necessary. Dave and I had indoctrinated Nancy and Timmy into this strategy. Since Jenny was so innocent we figured that she wouldn't even expect a spanking. We guessed that she probably expected her punishment to involve menial tasks or early bedtimes or restrictions of some sort or other. But that first shock to her modesty, whatever it might be and however slight, would start her vivid teenage girl's imagination to working overtime.

For the rest of the week we more or less treated Jenny like a member of the family. Nothing more was said on either side about the upcoming punishments. The family members made a point of leaving valuable items in plain sight, just to see if anything would turn up missing.

The second night, we again gathered around the TV and, once again Jenny started to take off her upper garments - this time a dark jacket over a blouse. To our amazement, once her outer garments were off, Jenny reached inside her bounteous bosom and retrieved a gold ring of mine and gold pocket watch of Dave's. After her nightshirt was on again, Jenny laid down on top of the covers and laid the stolen items next to her on the pillow.

Down went her naughty hand between her legs, and as it did its clever work, Jenny gazed amorously at the ring and watch lying next to her head. Again her knees came up and exposed her hairy cunt to us all -only this time we could see much better because she hadn't turned out the lights. Her orgasm seemed even more powerful that the one from the night before. Nancy appeared entranced, but Dave and Timmy seemed to be in catatonic states.

Later that night, on a trip to the bathroom, I passed by Nancy's room and heard what might have been a mysterious sound if I hadn't already heard it from her room every night for the past week. First there was a hissing and then a loud thwack. Nancy was once again staying up late to practice her caning technique on one of her pillows. I was so proud of her and her newly found study habits! From the sound of it, she had improved a great deal - I felt a moment of pity for Jenny's bottom when Nancy got her chance to wield the rattan over it.

The next day was Wednesday, Jenny's day of destiny. I was up early and was watching Jenny, live, through the hidden camera. She looked in the closet where she had hung her clothes and found that they were gone. All that was there was a pair of white shorts and a red halter top. On the floor of the closet were a pair of high heeled pumps. She quickly turned to the chest of drawers and found only a pink, frilly g-string. Apparently she had never seen such an item before, because after she timidly reached out to touch it, she seemed to take a while before she gradually got an idea of how it was to be worn. At an rate, she suddenly dropped the g-string back in the drawer and slammed it shut

Jenny seemed quite confused and distressed and sat down heavily on the bed, still clad in her heavy nightshirt. She got up and went to the door, opened it, and called out, "Oh, Aunt Marge! Aunt Marge!"

"Yes, Jenny, what is it?" I called back.

"Oh, Aunt Marge, my clothes are missing."

"Don't worry, dear, your clothes are safe. You are to wear what you find. And we want you downstairs for breakfast in fifteen minutes!" I commanded sternly, with a secret smile.

In the next few minutes the rest of the family trailed sleepily into the kitchen and had seats at the table. I served Dave his coffee and orange juice to the kids.

"We'll wait for breakfast until either Jenny comes down or her fifteen minutes are up." I informed the eager crew.

"Oh, boy, oh, boy! I can hardly wait! What are we gonna do to her today, mom?" exulted Timmy.

I think we'll find ways to make her pretty uncomfortable, Timmy." I answered with a smile.

Nancy chimed in, "Remember, Timmy, if we take it nice and slow, we'll probably be driving Jenny absolutely bonkers with suspense."

Fifteen minutes was up, and no Jenny. A minute later I entered her room without knocking, to find her sitting on her bed, still in her heavy nightshirt, with recently shed tears drying on her sad face.

"Jenny, was I clear yesterday when I talked to you about obedience and discipline?"

"Uh, y-yes, Aunt Marge."

"And didn't you just disobey a direct order from me?"

"Oh, yes, Aunt Marge, but it's just that...I can't...I CAN'T wear those clothes! They're immodest and too embarrassing. Oh Aunt Marge, I couldn't let Uncle Dave see me in them."

"Let me tell you something, and listen very closely, Jenny. You are being disciplined for a very serious set of offenses. You are to do everything you are told without question. One thing you will learn while you are with us is that there are consequences for misbehavior, and disobedience is misbehavior. The consequence for disobeying ANY order as to what you are to wear is very simple - you will wear nothing."

Jenny's lovely black eyes grew to saucer size.

"Let me make myself clear. If you don't want to spend the rest of your time hear completely nude, in front of the whole family, including Uncle Dave and Timmy, who would enjoy it very much, by the way, you will be in the kitchen wearing the clothes you have been given in five minutes."

Jenny was clearly stunned. "N-naked? No! You can't! You couldn't! I won't allow it!"

"How would you like me to call the rest of the family up here right now? If I do, it will take just a few seconds to remove the few items you're wearing now, leaving you as charmingly naked as a baby girl. Shall I call them?"

"Oh no! No! I'll do what you say!" Jenny blubbered desperately.

"See that you do.".

I indulged myself with a lingering examination of the wonderfully confused and shocked expression on Jenny's face, and then I left the room.

Three minutes later a vision of slightly trampy loveliness entered the kitchen. Jenny had done up her hair into her customary bun, and she wasn't wearing any makeup (I made a mental note to correct this in the future), but she nevertheless looked quite sexy in her red halter top, very short white shorts and high-heeled pumps. A large part of the tops of her boobs was visible above the halter top, almost certainly to her extreme mortification. She seemed to keep wanting to shield her chest with one or the other of her arms, but wasn't sure how to do it. Amusingly, she seemed to be having a bit of trouble walking in the unfamiliar shoes.

Her face had the world's most woebegone look. Her lower lip was trembling and tears glistened in the corner's of her eyes. Her belly-button was looking VERY cute.

I stole a glance at my fellow family members. Nancy seemed to have an amused and excited look. The jaws of both Timmy and Dave had dropped, seemingly never to rise again. None of us had seen Jenny in revealing clothes in a couple of years, and she had changed a LOT in that time, believe me.

"Good morning, Jenny." I said.

For some reason this was enough to start the poor girl to lowering her head and sniffling and sobbing. This was NOT a polite response, I thought.

"Jenny, I said good morning." I repeated, with a bit of icy sternness in my voice.

This snapped her out of her momentary spasm of self-pity.

"Oh, y-yes ma'am. G-good morning." she managed to whimper.

"How do you like your new clothes?" I asked pleasantly.

Again, the sniffling and sobbing started up.

"Jenny! I asked you a question."

"T-they're f-fine, ma'am." she said, although it was clear that she hated them.

"Well, they certainly show us some things about you that we never saw before. You have a very nice body, Jenny, although perhaps a bit top-heavy."

Jenny's breasts were providing a real challenge to the halter top, which was actually Nancy's. The top was somewhat thin and didn't hide that fact that Jenny had two very large nipples crowning her twin glories. Nancy's embarrassment at the rather aggressive nature of her impressive equipment was very enjoyable to watch.

As for the shorts, they were also Nancy's, and they were also a bit tight on Jenny. I couldn't see the youngster's bottom from where I was sitting, but the tight fabric presented a rather fetching outline of her apparently rather plump pussy, and the high cut of the legs as well as the low cut waist allowed a bit of Jenny's rather luxurious growth of pubic hair to peek out a bit from both the top and the bottom of the shorts. I was sure that she must have been horribly aware of it.

"Jenny, please stand up straight and put your arms at your sides." I said, having noticed that she was hunching over a bit, perhaps hoping to minimize the prominence of her tits.

She gave a soft whimper, but obeyed, throwing her shoulders back in her best military fashion, and, as a result, throwing her bosom up and out. Her breasts were amazingly self supporting as they quivered slightly in the breeze, the nipples threatening to break through the thin fabric. Her lower lip trembled slightly, and I could see a hint of tears ready to flow.

In our opinion, Professor, one very useful guideline for those who wish to discipline teens is the borderline of crying. Being on the verge of tears is a exquisitely intense emotional state, and we try our best to keep our young culprits balanced exactly at that spot. Of course, we don't mind at all going quite a bit TOWARDS the tears side of things. Mainly we try to keep our young bad girls and boys either in tears or almost in tears.

On the other hand, to be perfectly honest, we also are happy to have them yelling at the top of their lungs and begging for mercy, but still the above is a subtle point worth considering.

I motioned Jenny to take her seat. "Eat a big breakfast, Jenny. I think you'll be needing all the sustenance you can get today. You do remember that today is your first day of punishment and training?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Jenny seemed to be a bit disappointed to notice that she had nothing but a large bowl of un-sugared oatmeal in front of her - none of the hearty pancake breakfast that the family was enjoying. She tentatively brought a spoonful to her mouth and made a face after tasting it.

I said, "Well, naturally it's a bit cold, after you took so long to get here, dear."

Jenny was made a bit more uncomfortable as she ate by Dave's and Timmy's and Nancy's rather shameless staring at her impressive, half-naked breasts. Her hand trembled as she ate and once she accidentally let a large glop of oatmeal land on the top of her left breast. There was general laughter has I handed her a napkin and the poor girl had to clean off her breast in front of everyone. I noticed a tear tracing down her cheek.

"You're lucky it's not hot, Jenny." observed Nancy.

Jenny's appetite seemed to be unimpaired, however. She finished her lukewarm oatmeal.

"Jenny, please join us in the living room." I ordered. She followed us, clomping awkwardly on her high heels from the kitchen to the living room, where all but Jenny sat down. Dave picked a straight backed chair.

"That's good, Jenny, you are to remain standing for now." I began, "As you will no doubt recall, you are going to learn discipline here in the coming days. A major part of that involves following orders whether you like to or not."

The poor girl watched me meekly as I spoke, evidently wanting to avoid offending me, and perhaps incurring the penalty punishments I had spoken of.

"Please walk over to Uncle Dave. That's good. Now stand directly in front of him, yes, between his legs. Go on, don't hesitate, girl."

Jenny was now standing in front of my seated husband, in between his spread legs. She seemed quite nervous and had her hands protectively in front of her "female parts". while her upper arms seemed to be trying to shield her breasts, although not very successfully.

It was Dave's turn to take over. "Stand at attention, Jenny" he said.

Jenny attempted to obey, without completely removing her defenses. She stood up straight, which caused her lovely breasts to push up and out, but she kept her arms in front of her with her hands over her crotch.

"Good girl." continued Dave. "Now join your hands behind your head."

"Oh, please, Uncle Dave, I..I.."

"Now!" Dave added, with a bit of steel in his voice. Jenny jumped to obey and was now standing with the front of her body unprotected and in easy reached of Dave's hands.

"Now, Jenny," said Dave, in a gentle voice, "It's very important that you remain perfectly still until you are told that you can move." He said as he slowly reached forward with his right hand, ever so slowly moving it towards Jenny's flat, white, bare belly. As the hand got closer, Jenny's breathing became faster, until she seemed on the verge of panic. Apparently the idea of being touched on her bare skin by a man was very frightening for the dear girl. I think that she was also very aware of the bit of her black pubic hair that was visible just above the waistband of the white shorts.

Dave's extended his index finger and, instead of touching Jenny's belly button, which had seemed to be his intent, he lightly brushed a couple of times the naughty hairs that I just mentioned. He looked up at Jenny with a boyish, mischievous grin, which she didn't exactly return. Her face was beet-red and her body was trembling with embarrassment.

"Need a shave, Jenny?" he queried, innocently. The rest of us laughed and Jenny moaned.

"And down here, as well, I'm afraid." Dave went on, indicating Jenny's rather unglamorously unshaved legs. She didn't have a great deal of hair on them, but it's darkness made it more noticeable.

Dave's finger moved a bit upwards and forward and lightly touched Jenny's belly button. She let out a squeal and pulled back out of Dave's reach. I wanted to make sure that Jenny didn't think that she could get away with that type of behavior. Your readers will probably agree with me that it is much more convenient to punish a young culprit who has learned to be obedient than one that requires physical coercion. Of course we also realized that CERTAIN of Jenny's upcoming punishments might be to much for even the most obedient teenager to "hold still" for. For these situations we had suitable restraints available.

Dave and I shared a meaningful look and before Jenny knew what was up, we had each grabbed an arm. Holding her from behind, I said, "Nancy, Timmy, would you please strip Jenny? Nancy, why don't you start be removing her halter top?"

Nancy moved eagerly to comply with my request. Jenny shrieked, "No! No! Don't! Please don't strip me!"

The poor girl was in a panic. Nancy reached around Jenny to start to undo the neck strap. Jenny struggled valiantly but vainly.

"Stop a second, dear." I said to Nancy, "Jenny, I'm going to give you another chance. No more disobedience or you're going to be showing off a lot more than you seem to want. Will you be obedient?"

"Ohhhhhh!" Jenny seemed a bit conflicted. Inducing these types of crises in the culprits mind is excellent discipline, in our opinion.

"Go ahead, Nancy..."

"No! I'll be good! I'll be obedient!" Jenny yelled. Then, quieter, "It's just that Uncle Dave touched me in a place that a man shouldn't touch me..."

"You leave that for us to decide, Jenny. You may think that your belly button is sacrosanct, but we don't. You've been very bad, and very stringent measures are called for." I intoned, "Now, resume your former position, or else."

Jenny's expression of embarrassment and fear was wonderful to behold. I took the opportunity to observe my family, and saw some rather excited looks on their faces and, in the case of Dave and Timmy, some suspicious looking bulges in their pants. Everyone repossessed their seats, and, after I gave her a very serious look, Jenny forced herself to reassume her position in front of Dave, standing between his legs. She appeared a bit apprehensive, to say the least.

"Hands behind your head, Jenny." Dave gently reminded, "Good girl!". Happily he watched her impressive boobs rise and assert themselves, almost in his face.

"Have you learned to stand still, Jenny?" Dave asked as he again began moving his finger toward the youngster's cute little belly button.

"Y-yes, sir.." Jenny replied in such a quiet whisper that we could barely hear her. She was watching the approaching finger very carefully. Unfortunately for the success of her observation efforts, she most likely lost sight of it at the most critical moment due to the interference of her boobs!

She flinched violently as the finger lightly touched down right on that sensitive spot, but managed to resist the impulse to jump backward. The lovely girl trembled as Dave's finger explored her belly, following ever widening concentric circles away from the central indentation (yes she was an "inny").

When the circular motions of Dave's hand brought it near, again, to the tuft of pubic hair previously mentioned, he suddenly grabbed it and gave it a playful tug. Jenny couldn't help a flinch that jerked her bottom backwards when she felt this, but she remembered her promise and immediately returned to her proper posture. I noticed a single tear tracing her cheek.

"Good girl, Jenny." Dave said. "We realize that you can't help instinctive reactions. As long as you return to whatever posture or activity you're supposed to be in we don't consider that you have been disobedient. By the way, does this hurt?" Dave again gave a slightly more serious pull on the tuft of curly black hair.

"Ah!" said Jenny, again briefly jerked her bottom backwards. She didn't answer Dave, however.

"Jenny, I asked you a question."

"Y-yes, sir. It h-hurts."

"Good girl."

What we had planned for this little session was something that some of your readers may be familiar with. As kids we would sometimes decide to give someone what we called a "pink belly". The victim would be held down on the ground, or bed, or floor. His or her shirt would be pulled up enough to expose the belly. If the victim was wearing high waisted pants, and we were feeling especially brave or naughty, we might loosen his or her belt and pants and pull then down enough to expose the lower regions of the belly as well. The perpetrators would then take turns lightly "spanking" the victim's belly - each person giving anywhere from 50 to 100 slaps.

The effects were amusing to the torturers and uncomfortable and embarrassing to the victim. After the first hundred or so slaps, his or her belly really began to burn and sting. The hue actually change more to a red than a pink. Afterward his or her belly burned and itched for fifteen or twenty minutes or more.

Dave and I had both experienced this as youngsters, and thought it would be a wonderful "teaching tool" for young Jenny. However, as an experiment, we thought we would try an implement other than the bare hand...

"Jenny," I began, "your first real punishment and discipline session will start tonight after supper, but we thought we'd give you an early taste right now, just so you'll have something to think about during the course of the day. Now remember the importance of obedience. Please follow us into the dining room."

All of us walked into the dining room, with forlorn Jenny following us.

I ordered Jenny to get up on the dining room table and lie down on her back. She did this with the utmost of dread in her countenance and in the sound of her little girl whimpers. She lay rigidly with her legs pressed tightly together and drawn up slightly, thus minimizing the prominence of her crotch area, and her arms by her side with her hands clenched into fists. Her high-heeled pumps added a nice touch! She was almost panting with fear and nervousness and sweat beaded her forehead. What were these crazy people about to do to her?

"Would you get the implement, Timmy?" I asked the dear boy. Timmy quickly returned from a trip to the kitchen with a plastic fly swatter. Yes a fly swatter. A plastic fly swatter makes, in our opinion and experience, a wonderful instrument of discipline for the more tender areas of the anatomy. It is, light, flexible and very stinging, yet unlikely to cause much damage for the amount of discomfort it can cause. The type we like has a crosshatch pattern in the business end which adds an extra sting and the ability to cause blisters, as well as permitting it to travel faster through the air. Jenny was about to get the pinkest of pink bellies! She would be so proud!