"Jenny, please stretch your legs out flat." I ordered. With a whimper, Jenny obeyed, giving us a full view of the front part of her body. Her head rested on the bun that her hair was fixed up in; her eyes stared fixedly at the ceiling, as if it contained a fascinating mural. Her face was more beautiful than ever with the flush of embarrassment and fear. Her amazing breasts only spread out a little bit inside the almost overburdened red halter top. Her belly was pale and flat and couldn't have been cuter or made a more tempting target for a fly swatter. The white shorts were wonderfully tight and I think we all enjoyed the little "w" shape made by her plump pussy. As Jenny trembled her breasts shook like Jello sculptures.

Timmy had been assigned the task of "pinking" Jenny's belly, and Dave and I felt very confident that he would do a good job.

"This is a preliminary session, Jenny - it is primarily for you to practice being obedient. Timmy is going to give you one hundred smacks on your very cute little belly. If you try in anyway to hinder him, you will be held down and you will receive one hundred and fifty strokes instead. I hope you understand."

Timmy took a position to the left side of the supine Jenny. Jenny watched fearfully as he raised his weapon, smiled, and let fly. The swatter swished through the air but missed Jenny entirely. It was a decoy stroke.

"Ah!" Jenny yelled, instantly jerking her hands to protect her midsection. The poor girl seemed to have very bad self control.

"I don't believe I gave you permission to move your hands, Jenny. Did I?" I asked.

"N-no ma'am."

"Anymore unauthorized interfering with your justly deserved discipline and we will add fifty to the number of strokes you are to receive. Understand?"

"Y-yes, ma'am." She whimpered as she lowered her arms back to the table.

"I want you to apologize to Timmy for attempting to prevent him from doing his job, and then you are to ask him to give you a VERY pink belly. Go on..."

Jenny began to cry.

"Jenny!" I raised my voice to her.

Through her tears the poor girl managed to whimper out the required sentences.

"You heard her, Timmy, she wants a VERY pink belly." I said with a smile.

This time Timmy gave Jenny almost no warning, raising the fly swatter and quickly smacking it down - right on the cute little dimple of her belly button.

"Aggggh!" Jenny yelled. Her hands moved again, to comfort and to protect her vulnerable belly, but she managed to remember her orders and instantly returned them to her sides, as she sighed with the smarting sting.

I was pleased. Knowing that Jenny was into self-denial and penance and religiosity, I had been a bit afraid that she might have developed a high pain tolerance. It appeared on the contrary that she had a very LOW tolerance. This made me happy because it is so much more fun to discipline a victim who responds enthusiastically to pain.

Timmy now began a smacking rhythm. Most of the strokes were of medium strength, such that they would not be terribly painful individually, but which would build up to a powerful burning and stinging feeling in a short while. In addition, Timmy periodically would punctuate the rhythm with an especially harsh smack. I began to think that he might have musical talent!

Jenny gave little squeaks and moans with each blow and as time progressed she was clearly in more and more discomfort. Her hands started moving again, obviously wanting SO badly to go to the rescue of her now burning belly. She started to writhe, apparently uncontrollably, turning a bit from side to side. I could tell that she was TRYING to be good, but it was getting hard for her.

Timmy covered all of Jenny's belly, and the color changed from a light pink to a dark pink to a deeper rose hue. He DID seem to particularly enjoy smacking her belly button, I suppose because Jenny seemed to squeal and jerk a bit more after these strokes.

I warned Timmy when he had five strokes left. He paused for a second, and said to Jenny, "How does your belly feel, Jenny?"

"Ohhhhh..." the poor girl moaned, still writhing even though blows had temporarily stopped.

Knowing Timmy as I did, I knew that he wouldn't feel like he had done a proper job unless he had forced Jenny to be disobedient and make some defensive maneuver. I expected that he would make these last strokes especially hard to attempt to break her will. I was surprised - the strokes were only of medium force - although, since her belly was already quite sore, they DID seem to be causing her considerable pain.

With one stroke left Timmy unveiled his strategy. He pretended to direct a fearsome blow, not at the wonderful glowing belly, but directly at Jenny's left tit! He stopped the fly swatter before it made contact, but not before Jenny screamed in fear for her sensitive boob and moved both hands to guard it. Timmy had won!

"Oh, Jenny!" I said, "I'm afraid we'll have to add fifty more strokes. And, just think, you only had one to go!"

I took Jenny's wrists in hand and pulled her arms back over her head. Dave grabbed her ankles and she was thus held securely, only now her impressive breasts seemed more assertive and impudent than ever!

Timmy began again, only this time he made EVERY stroke a real cracker. It only took two before Jenny was struggling desperately and yelling loudly. Unfortunately for her, she was forced to take every stroke. By the time Timmy had finished, Jenny's poor belly was a good deal closer to a dark red than to a pink, and Jenny was yelling, crying, and moaning. It was a wonderful beginning, I thought to myself.

Dave and I let go of our respective limbs and Jenny's hands instantly rushed to comfort her burning belly. As soon as she did, though, she remembered my orders and again put her hands at her sides. She looked at me, obviously wondering if she was now permitted to touch herself.

With a laugh, I said, "Go on, Jenny, you can rub your belly now." Dave and the kids laughed as well as Jenny tenderly massaged her midsection, moaning and crying softly.

We allowed Jenny to run crying to her room, after giving her the following instructions (during which she had to stand at attention before us so we could all admire the job Timmy had done on her belly). She was to shave her legs and under arms before dinner. She was to appear at dinner with her hair down and with lipstick, rouge, and mascara applied, which I would be bringing to her a little later.

The last thing I said to her before she was allowed to go was: "Well, Jenny, you didn't do so well in your first test of self-discipline - but I hope that you learned your lesson. It's going to continue to be this way - any lack of obedience or self-discipline will only make your punishments worse. Now, you have the rest of the day to think about the beginning of you real punishment, which will be after dinner. Go on, girl!"

Who could imagine the mental state that Jenny must have been in? What did she think her "real" punishment could be after what had just happened to her? Her sacrosanct body had been trespassed! Her pain threshold far exceeded! And this was only a preliminary?

When I brought her her makeup materials about an hour later, Jenny was lying on her side on her bed. Her hands were right next to her still very red belly and it appeared that she had just been rubbing it. She quickly sat up.

"How does it feel, dear?"

"Ohh, Aunt Marge, it itches and burns."

"Well, punishments aren't supposed to feel good. Otherwise they wouldn't be punishments, would they?" I asked, somewhat rhetorically.

Nancy gave only a soft whimper in answer.

"Didn't you think Timmy did a good job?"

Another whimper.

"Well, here is your makeup stuff. We'll make a pretty girl out of you yet!" Of course I was quite aware that she was a very pretty girl even without makeup.

I went on, "One more thing, Jenny. Do you remember when I asked you if you masturbated?"

Jenny flushed a deep red. Her jaw dropped. She seemed too stunned to answer.

"Well, I'm sure you remember. You told us that you didn't, and of course we believe you. That hasn't changed by any chance has it?"

The blush intensified. "Uhhh-hhh, n-n-o, Aunt M-Marge - I w-would never d-do that." she stammered with her eyes staring at the floor.

"Well, I'm sure I've told you that complete honesty is absolutely necessary when you're under discipline at our house. I'd hate to find out that you were lying to us."

With that I left her to her almost certainly frantic thoughts! Poor Jenny! What would she think on that fine day when we showed her the shameful videos that she was starring in?

Supper time eventually came around. It was probably way too soon for Jenny. She skulked into he dining room with a new look - shaven legs, shaven armpits (with a couple of nicks, it looked like), flowing black hair, and some rather badly applied makeup. Oh yes, her belly was looking interesting - a couple of bruises, but mostly it looked like she had developed a bad rash. Then I noticed that she had removed the naughty little tufts of pubic hair both from above the waist band of her shorts and from the bottoms of the legs of the shorts.

"Come with me, Jenny, and we'll fix that makeup." I said.

It was a matter of just a few minutes in the bathroom before Jenny looked absolutely scrumptious. I didn't exactly "tart her up"; rather I used a fair amount of subtlety, so that she looked like an innocent, but beautiful teenager - in a halter top, very tight shorts, and high heels of course. This actually had the effect (as was my intention) of making her look very, very spankable.

Not surprisingly, Jenny didn't talk much during the meal. And she seemed to dawdle a bit, especially with her apple pie. She probably realized, correctly, that SHE was the REAL desert for the evening. But how she would be served? I wondered if she had a clue. Did she suspect that she was going to be a toasted turnover? Did she perhaps fear for her bottom? She ought to have¡­

Everyone else was pretty quiet too, but for a very different reason. We were very excited and eager to start Jenny's discipline, so we all wanted to finish dinner as soon as possible.

Nancy spoke up, "Come on, Jenny, finish your desert. We have such a lot of activities planned!" At which Jenny almost choked on her last bite. I was very impressed with Nancy's very dry and cruel sense of humor.

I stood up. "Jenny, follow me, please."

I led Jenny into the "punishment room", which used to be known as Dave's workshop. The rest of the family followed. I could hear Jenny's shallow, fearful breathing behind me as I opened the door.

We had decorated a bit. There were now easy chairs in addition to "devices", so that the non-subjects could be comfortable. The lighting was subdued, with track lights able to light up the subject from various angles and at various parts of the room. All of the "devices" were covered in black velvet sheets. The walls had Victorian flagellation scenes - to add the right effect. Actually there was one "device" that wasn't covered - a simple straight backed chair in the middle of the room.

I don't know what it was in particular about the room that got to Jenny, but she was instantly terrified and started sniveling shamefully. "Oh, what are you going to do to me? I want to go home! Please let me go home?" she managed to babble.

"Be quiet, Jenny!" I ordered. She obeyed at once. She was learning, but tears were still streaming down her face. It occurred to me to wonder if a girl who spends a whole evening crying needs to replenish her electrolytes, with something like Gatorade, for example. I was in a good mood, and so, apparently were all but one of us. I could sense Dave's intense desire to get to Jenny's butt, and Timmy and Nancy seemed as happy as I had ever seen them.

"Stand in the middle of the room, Jenny. Yes, next to the chair is fine." I commanded the terrified young morsel. "Your arms at your sides please."

The rest of us each picked an easy chair. We arranged ourselves so that we were all pretty much in front of the trembling, shrinking Jenny. My chair included controls for the lighting and I adjusted it so that Jenny was spotlighted and the rest of us were in semi-darkness. She look wonderfully cute and vulnerable.

I began, "Jenny, you have been a very bad girl, have you not?"

Staring at the floor, she answered, "Yes, ma'am. I'm very sorry for stealing all those things."

"You have risked ruining your own life and you have damaged the reputation of your family."

Jenny could only sniffle out, "Y-yes."

"Now, what do you think is a proper way to punish a bad girl like you?"

Jenny was silent.

"Jenny, I asked you a question."

"I-I don't know, ma'am. ~sniff~"

"Think, Jenny! How are bad girls punished? Bad LITTLE girls."

All that could be heard was Jenny's sniffling. Then, "Y-you wouldn't¡­"

"Wouldn't what, Jenny, dear?"

"I-I don't know - nothing, ma'am. I didn't mean a-anything."

"Were you thinking of a particular form of punishment, dear? Tell us. We'd all like to know. What IS the way that bad LITTLE girls are punished?"

"Oh! Oh, I c-can't."

"Say it! Now!" I raised my voice ominously.

"¡­s-sp¡­" was all she could get out.

"Spanking, Jenny? Is that it? Well, let me tell you. You're right. That IS how bad little girls are punished. And now tell us this, Jenny. Where are bad little girls spanked?"

"W-where?"

"On what part of their naughty bodies are little girls spanked?"

"Ohhhhh, Aunt Marge¡­." And the dear girl had another fit of weeping, and at the same time her hands, perhaps unconsciously, moved backwards a bit, as if wanting to shield her tender bottom.

"Answer me right now, or, so help me, we will strip you naked, Jenny dear, and we will make you very sorry you weren't more cooperative. Answer me - on what part of their bodies are bad little girls spanked?"

"O-o-on their¡­Oh! O-on their¡­b-bot¡­Ohhh! I-I c-can't¡­"

"All right, that does it. Come on everyone, we're going to have a naked Jenny in a few seconds." I said. With that we all got up from our chairs and started to approach Jenny menacingly.

"Their bottoms! Their bottoms! They're spanked on their bottoms! No-don't strip me, please! Their bottoms!" the poor girl yelled out. It was so funny that all of us were more or less made helpless by laughter for a few seconds as we collapsed back into our chairs.

"Very good, Jenny." I resumed. "Again, you're right, bad little girls are spanked VERY thoroughly on their bottoms. Now tell me this. When these bad little girls are spanked, and this is a very critical question I'm sure you'll agree, are they spanked over their clothes, or are they spanked on their BARE bottoms?"

"Over their clothes! Oh, please, over their clothes! Oh, Aunt Marge, you can't spank me. Oh, you can't! Please, I would DIE! Please, anything else - not that!"

"Jenny, I'll thank you to leave the decisions as to your proper punishment to us! Now, I think we can agree that SOMETIMES bad little girls are spanked over their clothes, and SOMETIMES bad little girls are spanked over their panties (Jenny blushed at this word), and SOMETIMES bad little girls are spanked on their bare bottoms. Wouldn't you agree, Jenny?"

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"Which of those three do you think is the most severe punishment for a bad little girl, Jenny."

No answer.

"Jenny!"

"Being s-spanked on the b-bare b-bot¡­" again, she couldn't quite say that word!

"I agree with you, Jenny, so I think we could conclude - stop me if you disagree - that a VERY bad little girl, a little girl who has disgraced her family, for example, should at LEAST get a very thorough spanking on her bare bottom. Do you agree, Jenny?"

Jenny couldn't answer. She seemed ready to faint. Her eyes shifted wildly about her, as if seeking an avenue of escape. Finally, "Oh, Aunt Marge, please! Anything but that!"

"Let me continue. Jenny, we ARE going to spank you on your bare bottom, but we are doing you a big favor. You are going to get to keep your little g-string on during your spanking, or spankings, really. I'm sure that should be a big relief to you. At least, I know that if I were in your predicament, and I were going to get a bare bottom spanking in front of several people including a grown man and a pubescent boy, that I would be just as concerned about the exposure of certain, uh, PARTS. That is, when a bad little girl is forced to lower her panties, more than JUST the cheeks of her bottom come into view. Do you understand what I mean, Jenny?"

"Ohhh - y-yes, ma'am." More weeping followed.

"So if you continue to be a good, obedient girl, you will be allowed to keep your g-string on. Otherwise, you will be stripped naked and will receive more than just a spanking. Understand."

Her answer, "Yes, ma'am." was barely audible.

"Now, Jenny, remember the penalties for disobedience, and slowly remove your shorts."

Jenny had now been plunged into a horribly impossible situation. She clearly felt, being the shy, modest girl that she was, that she just COULDN'T take those shorts off in front of Dave and Timmy. She'd rather have DIED, I'm sure. She seemed confused and glanced wildly about her as if seeking some escape.

"Oh, Aunt Marge! I CAN'T do that! Please - can't you s-sp-spank me over my shorts?" She backed up towards the door. Suddenly she made a break for it. She tried to open the door. Alas, to her disappointment, it was locked. Madly she pulled at the handle.

I signaled the others and we all advanced towards her. She tried to run past us but she didn't have much of a chance, especially with her awkward foot wear. Dave grabbed her and held her fast by pulling her arms behind her back. I walked up to her.

After taking a moment to admire her assertive boobs, I said, "So, we want to escape, do we? We don't believe in being obedient, do we? So, then, I guess we really WANT to be stripped. Let's start with this. I think we'd all like to get a look at those huge TITS of yours, darling." as I reached around behind her and pulled the tie loop loose on the neck strap of her halter top.

This was not enough to cause the halter top to fall from its massive contents, particularly such firm, large contents as Jenny possessed. But it was enough to put the fear of the Lord into young Jenny.

"Stop! Stop! I'll do it! I'll do it!"

"What will you do, dear?" I asked.

"I'll¡­.take¡­my¡­s-shorts¡­." Then she burst into bitter, inconsolable tears.

"Off?"

"Yes, ma'am." through her sobs.

"Well, you're obviously still learning, dear. Once again, we'll give you another chance. But you WILL be incurring special penalties for this unforgivable breach of discipline. That will come later. Here, let me retie your halter top. There, that's good. Now, we'll all return to our places, and you, Jenny, will remove your shorts. Is that right, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am." and her crying renewed itself.

Jenny had no choice. I had made the alternatives so clear to her that she realized that her avenue of least humiliation, of least exposure, and most likely of least pain, was that of obedience. But OH the pain in her heart as she began to unfasten the metal button on her tight shorts. Her fingers were barely up to the task, but it wasn't a difficult button and soon it was undone.

We all stayed silent, enjoying the spectacle, enjoying her agony. She unzipped. The sound seemed loud in the silence. She started to pull down the shorts. The front of the black, frilly g-string came into view. Jenny was careful not to pull it down too. Clearly protecting her cunt from view was important to her, even as she was exposing her bottom. At this point she seemed to have a crisis deciding what way to stand, so as to minimize embarrassing exposure. She chose to stand sideways to us, which WAS the most practical choice she had available. Of course the rest of us realized that ultimately it would make no difference.

"All the way off Jenny. Come on!"

As Jenny bent over to step out of the shorts, as task made more difficult again because of her high heeled pumps, she seemed to decide that at least for now she wanted to turn away from us, so we got to see her bottom cheeks spread as she bent, showing us the black strip of g-string running between her buttocks and the black pouch that contained her plump pussy. The shear expanse of her lovely white bottom was impressive. It would surely take a lot of whipping, and I was eager to see the effects!

She remained standing with her back to us, her shoulders heaving with sobs. For a few minutes we enjoyed feasting our eyes on the impressive work of art that was Jenny's rear end.

I commented, "You have a very lovely and very large bottom, Jenny."

She moaned and moved her hands back in a very ineffective attempt to cover her rear.

Then I said, "Turn around and face us, Jenny."

Jenny obeyed but obstructed our view of her crotch with both hands.

"Hands at your side, Jenny." I ordered. She moaned with embarrassment and obeyed.

"And stand up straight. Good girl."

Apparently she had only shaved enough of her pubic hair to prevent it showing beyond the shorts. Now we could see bounteous amounts springing from above and below the g-string. She was a vision of loveliness, and her forlorn condition made her even lovelier. Her skin was as white as her hair was black - except for her very interesting and sore looking belly, of course. Her makeup, unfortunately, was now pretty much a mess.

Dave got up from his chair. Jenny flinched and looked as if she didn't know what was going to happen.

"Just stay right there, little filly." Said Dave. ( "Little filly???" Where did he get that?) He sat down right next to her, in the straight backed chair. She watched him, trembling. She almost certainly knew what he was there for.

Dave asked her, "Have you ever been spanked before, Jenny?"

"N-no, sir, Uncle ¡­. Dave..oh!." Jenny's exclamation came, I believe, because she suddenly noticed Dave's rampant erection showing through his khaki's.

"What's the matter, Jenny. Did you notice something?" Dave asked, smiling.

"Uh, no! Uh, that is, no! Nothing, Uncle Dave." All the while, she could hardly take her eyes off the bulge in his pants. She must have realized that she was going to have to lie across his lap, right on top of that bulge.

Dave said, "Now come over here, Jenny. Turn this way. That's good. Now just let yourself down. All the way. Now lets slide you a little forward, so I can get a good bead on that bottom." Dave got a very satisfied look on his face as poor Jenny settled down over his lap. I was sure it was at least partly because her tummy was pressing on his erection!

The chair was arranged so that Jenny's blooming, white bottom was "facing" the rest of us in our comfortable easy chairs.