After the worst of the screaming had died down, Nancy again explained to the apparently somewhat slow "subject" that she had neglected her duties and therefore the most recent line of fire burning across her bare teenage bottom didn't count. Again Jenny managed, with a little help, to assume that correct position and make the required thanks and request. This time Nancy made her repeat the words to make them "more thankful and cheerful sounding".

At last came the requisite wiggle of the lovely but oh so ravaged hindquarters, and again came a whistling, biting stroke from the cane.

As the caning went on and Jenny's suffering increased we all enjoyed the fact that she seemed less and less able to perform her duties correctly and thus received more uncounted strokes than counted ones. However, Nancy made sure that each and every stroke "counted" in the discipline sense, painting a series of parallel strokes from the top of Jenny's bottom cleft down to mid thigh. Then Nancy started painting diagonal stripes, bringing the unfortunate teenager's self-control just about to an end.

We had all agreed, before this session, that Jenny's caning would in fact consist of no more than fifty actual strokes. Anyone who has felt the bite of the judicial cane will realize that our leniency was not extreme. A fifty stroke caning from such an instrument is an awesome thing. Dave, as always, was keeping count, although how he managed to do it while at the same time keeping one hand busy in his pants pocket, I'm not quite sure. It's certainly possible that he might have missed a stroke or two in his count.

At any rate, he let Nancy know when that point arrived such that the number of total strokes left (to reach fifty) was equal to the number of uncounted strokes left (to reach 25). He signaled that there were ten strokes left. This meant that poor Jenny had received forty strokes but had only managed to count fifteen of them! Well, I guess she still needed some work on her self-discipline, and, admittedly, she WAS doing better before the diagonal strokes started. By the way, there had started to appear little flecks of blood on Jenny's red and purple rear end where diagonal strokes crossed horizontal ones.

Nancy paused and said, "Jenny, Jenny, Jenny. You're not doing a very good job of counting, are you?"

"Ohhh! Please! It hurts so much¡­sob!" came the mournful response.

"Of course it hurts, darling. It's your discipline! My goodness, I don't think you'll recognize your butt when you get a look at it. But I'm not finished with it yet."

"Ohh, it hurts, it hurts!"

"Lets not hear anymore of that childish complaining. After all, deary, it could have been worse. What if I had used the cane HERE, for example?" Reaching down and softly running her hand along the under surfaces of Jenny's hanging breasts. These under surfaces were pretty much bare in spite of the red halter top that still protected her modesty somewhat. Jenny gasped in fear. Nancy then replace her hand with the tip of the heavy cane and gave Jenny a few light taps on her boobs, making them swing softly forward, and making Jenny moan with humiliation and pain.

"Or HERE?" Nancy now slipped the tip of the cane between Jenny's spread thighs and tapped her right on the pouch of the g-string that covered her plump pussy.

"Ahhhh! No! Not there!"

This had the magical effect of bringing Jenny into the required "hamster in heat" position.

"Now, lets hear your speech, Jenny, dear." Followed by a slightly sharper tap into the sensitive and defenseless organ.

"Ahhhhhh! No! Uh-h! Thank y-you for the last stroke, Nancy, and please give me stroke number, uh, uh¡­"

"Number sixteen" said Dave, helpfully.

"Ohh! Number sixteen!"

Nancy added, "And now the wiggle?" giving one more, sharp tap. The wiggle that Jenny gave us then was the most enthusiastic and enchanting one so far.

Thhhhhwhap! A thunderous stroke tore into Jenny's big bottom, cutting deeply into already traumatized flesh. Her scream was heartrending.

Nancy "helped" Jenny through the final ten strokes with the special taps, although towards the end she sometimes had to made them a bit more than taps, and sometimes had to repeat them to get Jenny to perform her duties. Before the very last stroke Nancy made Jenny repeat her thanks and request four times until she accepted it as "polite and sincere enough". The final stroke was the hardest of them all, and the resulting scream the loudest.

We let Timmy "examine" Jenny to make sure that she had received enough punishment, which he did gleefully, and much to Jenny's humiliation and distress, running his hands and fingers all over, around, and in between her ravaged cheeks. The intimate pokes that she had objected to before were repeated and this time were accepted without complaint, although they did make her squeak a bit.

Timmy announced that he thought that Jenny's bottom had gotten about as much as it could take, and we had to agree - it looked like a huge plum pudding, and several little trickles of blood had made their appearance. However, he felt it important to note that the area between Jenny's bottom cheeks had been sadly neglected.

In order to stave off any possible infection I soaked a sponge in rubbing alcohol and thoroughly rubbed Jenny's butt with it. Of course the alcohol had the side effect of bringing yet a new level of pain to the beleaguered rear and her screams testified to it.

I patted her dry with a towel and said, "There! Good as new! Well, almost¡­" as I surveyed the pitiful state of Jenny's still writhing, clenching bottom and listened to her continuous cries and moans.

"Well, what do you think, Jenny?" I asked, "Do you think you'll be stealing anything again anytime soon?"

"Ohhhhh! No! No! Never again!!"

"Do you think you've learned your lesson?"

"Oh yes! Yes!"

"Well, unfortunately for you, dear, it's for US to decide whether you've had enough discipline and punishment for a real cure. I'm afraid you've got a lot more coming to you, Jenny, although you are finished for today."

"Oh no! Aunt Marge, I can't TAKE any more! My bottom is all cut up and bleeding - PLEASE - you can't whip me anymore!"

Nancy volunteered with a laugh and an affectionate pat to Jenny's tush, "Don't worry Jenny, you're bottom won't be getting any more attention for a while. It's some other parts of your anatomy that you should be concerned about!"

This little comment seemed to have a great effect. Suddenly Jenny's piteous weeping stopped and she seemed to be considering Nancy's words intently.

"O-other parts? W-what do you mean? W-what other p-parts? Oh please, tell me!"

"Hmm", said Nancy, "I think that's for us to know and for you to find out!"

Jenny fell silent. This ominous hinting had stopped her agonized vocalizations, for the time being, although the gyrations of her rear end continued unabated.

I was at this moment the proudest of mothers. What a skillful, subtle, and pitiless disciplinarian my talented daughter was becoming! Not only did she have the physical skills required to inflict as much pain on a victim as was desired, she had a knack for the psychological subtleties that are so often neglected in this hurried, modern world. Jenny was now doomed to two days of uncertain fear. (I say two days because we were allowing her a day of rest between sessions.) Of course the challenge of the accomplished disciplinarian, once he or she has thrown down the gauntlet of inducing "nameless fear" in his/her victim, is to make sure that the victim's actual experiences meet or exceed his or her fears. Your readers, Professor, will be the judges of whether we succeeded in this.

Timmy and Nancy released Jenny from her bonds and Dave and I caught her as she fell over. She would have pitched right to the floor otherwise. It turned out that the slightest muscular exertion in the "buttock area" was all but unbearable for the poor girl, and since this seemed to preclude normal walking we had to almost carry her up to her room. I'm a bit ashamed to admit that Dave and Timmy took advantage of this situation to do a bit of extracurricular groping and pinching. Jenny was in so much pain and humiliation that she hardly noticed the groping, but she responded with energetic squeals to any pinches in the "buttock area".

We dropped her rather unceremoniously on her bed. Unfortunately for her it was right on her rump that she landed and, with a sharp yell, she immediately turned over on her tummy, buried her face in her hands, and wept piteously. We all gazed for a few moments on the enchanting sight and then left her to her thoughts. That night we watched the TV monitor but were sorely disappointed. We got no show, other than a continuous view of Jenny's lovely, colorfully marked, bottom as she dropped off to exhausted sleep.

As you might imagine, Dave and I had quite a time in bed that night. We probably only got three or four hours of sleep. It was marvelous as we excited ourselves over and over with the recollections of our darling young Jenny's humiliating and painful adventures and anticipation of what was yet in store for her. I hoped that Timmy and Nancy had a bit of fun as well, although I DID hope that their fun was solitary. I guess I'm just a traditional mom!

I was watching on the (normally hidden) kitchen monitor the next morning when Jenny's alarm clock went off at eight o'clock. She was still lying on her stomach. It took her a few seconds to come to any kind of consciousness, and it seemed that the first thing she became aware of was her sore butt, as she moaned and reached her hand back to rub it. She was clearly shocked to feel the welts and ridges that had been so lovingly implanted there, and gasped out loud.

The condition of her bottom seemed, if anything, even more deplorable than it was when we left her the night before. The tramlines from the cane and the welts and bruises from the strap seemed to have become more vivid and three-dimensional. It was quite lovely, I thought!

Carefully, whimpering, Jenny slid herself over the side of the bed and onto her feet. There was a full length mirror on one wall. She limped over to it and did her best to examine her very interesting hind quarters. Jenny was still wearing the red halter top and the black g-string from the night before, and she looked lovely and graceful as she stood in front of the mirror. In particular, her bottom showed its magnificence, both in size and shape, even better now that it was so vividly and interestingly colored. And, from my point of view, knowing that it must be aching and burning added quite a bit to my enjoyment of the scene. We had certainly done a thorough job on her tush!

Jenny limped stiffly to the dresser drawer where she had found her clothes for the day before and opened it. Sure enough, there were her clothes for this day. She burst into tears on seeing them, since they were nothing more than a repeat of what she was wearing right then, except that the halter top was purple with red polka dots and the g-string was red instead of black. Also in the drawer was a note from me that she had better be in the kitchen for breakfast by 8:30, fully showered and made up, or suffer additional penalties.

Nancy walked into the kitchen just then and, after sharing a conspiratorial smile, we watched in silence as Jenny disrobed. Once again we were impressed with the size and firmness, and yet delicacy, of her breasts. Also impressive was the size of her nipples - as big around as a mans thumb and at least half an inch long. They were a lovely reddish brown. We were impressed as well with the hairiness and plumpness of her cunt as she shed yesterdays g-string.

As she went into the bathroom to shower I switched the monitor to the shower camera. Dave and Timmy arrived and we all watched Jenny's shower. She carefully kept the spray off of her bottom and winced painfully when she passed the washcloth over it. The water bounce happily off of the tops of her boobs as she soaped down her body and then rinsed off.

Jenny toweled down and donned her "new" clothes. She discovered to her dismay that the new halter top was tighter and smaller than the one from the day before. In fact, her boobs were spilling out on all sides and her aureoles were just visible on top.

When she walked stiffly into the kitchen, Timmy greeted her by saying, "Good morning, hamster girl!" A terrific blush instantly covered Jenny's cheeks as we all laughed.

"Show us your bottom, Jenny." said Nancy. Wonderfully, Jenny obeyed, although not without shedding a few hot tears. She turned her back to us and hung her head while we feasted our eyes on the red, purple and yellow canvas that was her bottom. The bruises and welts extended from the top of her crack almost down to her knees, although it was her buttocks that had clearly sustained the worst damage.

Nancy wasn't through yet. "Bend over, Jenny, that's right. Put your hands on your knees, and arch your back so your bottom sticks out."

Jenny obeyed, sobbing pitifully, and her tightly bent, well-spread bottom was on display, much to her deep embarrassment I'm sure. Her hanging breasts seemed to be on the verge of spilling right out of the yellow and red halter top. The red g-string was very attractive nestling between her cheeks and legs.

"Now, let's have that hamster wiggle, girl." Nancy ordered, with a grin.

Jenny obeyed, and what a lovely wiggle it was!

I said, "Good girl, Jenny. Now, get up. Sit here." I pointed to a new item of furniture, at least new to Jenny. It was a high chair!

She stared at the chair, and then, looking pleadingly at me, she said, "Oh, Aunt Marge, I really c-can't sit d-down. It hurts too much."

"I don't believe I asked your opinion of the matter, Jenny. My dear girl, you are acquiring extra penalties at a frightening rate through your questioning of direct orders. I hope you realize that, whatever you experienced yesterday evening, it will be nothing compared to the penalties you will get for disobedience."

It was amusing to all but Jenny as she attempted to squeeze her sore bottom into the seat of the high chair. Wincing and moaning, she managed it somehow. Then there was an added surprise. The seat of the chair was covered with the previously mentioned coconut matting. She gasped in pain and attempted to rise up from the high chair. This caused the sides of her large bottom to scrape roughly against the sides of the chair and she squealed again in pain and sat back down. All she could do was endure her discomfort.

I rose, walked behind Jenny as she eyed me fearfully, and proceeded to tie her hands behind her back. "Oh, what are you going to do to me?" she whimpered.

"Don't worry, Jenny, Uncle Dave is going to feed you your oatmeal.

Nancy brought out a large, steaming bowl of oatmeal and set it down in front of Jenny. Dave slid his chair over next to her and proceeded to spoon large spoonfuls of the mush into Jenny's reluctant mouth. Alas, Dave couldn't seem to keep from spilling a fairly large amount onto the tops of Jenny's boobs, which seemed to distress her quite a bit because the stuff was pretty hot. She complained that it was burning her, and Dave periodically obliged, using a wash cloth to lovingly clean the surfaces of her tits. It was fun to observe the conflict between her extreme reluctance to have Uncle Dave handling her virgin boobs so matter-of-factly and her strong desire to get the hot oatmeal off of the same items, which were obviously quite sensitive. In addition to the torment of her breasts, Jenny could be seen to wince and gasp whenever her struggles would cause her bottom to shift against the cruel coconut matting.

Dave seemed to take special care in his "cleanup" duties, rubbing the skin of Jenny's breasts quite a bit more than seemed strictly necessary, making sure that he cleaned all of the oatmeal out from between the globes and from the sensitive area near her nipples. Those nipples, by the way, which we have seen to be very large, were quite apparent through the thin halter top. Oddly enough, even though Dave seemed meticulously neat when cleaning up, he seemed quite careless during the spooning, dropping dollop after dollop of the steaming mush on the fair skin.

After Jenny had finished her "breakfast", I informed her that her next session would be tomorrow night and that she was getting a break for one day. However, she was still required to obey ALL orders given either by Dave or me, and CERTAIN orders given by Timmy or Nancy. Basically she had to go wherever, in the house, they told her too, and she had to adopt the hamster posture whenever they desired. They were allowed to pinch her bottom, and also to spank her, but only lightly, so as to not retard the healing process. I explained that we wanted her bottom to be more or less healed by three days from today, when she would be getting her third session.

Needless to say, Jenny spent quite a lot of time in the hamster position that day, mostly in the TV room so the kids could torment her during the commercials. They spanked her quite a bit, and, even though they DID do it lightly, it seemed to hurt her almost to the point that she couldn't bear it. They pinched and goosed her a bit as well, which seemed to humiliate her even more than it hurt her physically. From the kitchen I was often able to tell that a commercial had come on by the squeals and cries as my diabolical children had their fun with Jenny.

Later in the afternoon, Timmy went out to play with friends, and Jenny was left alone with Nancy. I overheard the following conversation.

Jenny said, "Nancy?"

"Yes, Jenny, dear?"

"W-what are they, y-you, going to do to me tomorrow?"

"Well, I'd like to tell you, Jenny, but I'm under strict orders to keep my mouth shut, except for the fact that you don't need to worry about your poor bottom. We won't be tormenting it any tomorrow night. So don't worry your pretty little head about THAT. There, do you feel better now?"

"B-but, Nancy, it's not so much my b-bottom that I'm worried about. I'm worried about what you said - that you'll be punishing other parts of my body. Please, tell me - what parts are you going to punish?"

"Now, now, Jenny, if I told you, it would only give you more to worry about, and it wouldn't change anything - you'll get your punishment either way. Believe me, you're better off not knowing."

Jenny whispered softly, "Nancy, you, th-they, wouldn't punish my b-b-breasts, would they?"

Nancy chuckled, "Jenny, Jenny, if I said yes or no, then that would be giving you just the information that I'm not supposed to give you. By the way, are you worried about us punishing your breasts?"

"Y-yes - they're very s-senstitive." Nancy whimpered.

"So? I mean, what's your point? That would be all the more reason to punish them, wouldn't it? Your not supposed to LIKE being punished, silly."

"Ohhh! You ARE going to hurt my breasts!"

"Now don't jump to conclusions, Jenny. I said no such thing. I just said that you needn't worry about your precious little bottom. After all, there's a lot more to your body than just your breasts, although I admit they take up a lot of room! I'll bet there are even some parts of your body that you'd hate to have punished even worse than your big boobies."

Jenny's jaw dropped as she pondered this.

Jenny slept on her belly again that night, and she didn't seem to be in the mood for masturbation either. She had clearly been in serious discomfort all day, and had a very decided limp to her gait. Indeed, she was a very sore-bottomed young lady. We had made her sit in the high-chair of torture again for dinner and it seemed to cause her as much discomfort as it had that morning.

By the next morning Jenny's bottom was clearly improved, a tribute to the wonderful healing powers of youth. The welts and ridges had largely receded and the overall redness had diminished a bit. However, the bruises had deepened in color and the poor girl was still experiencing quite a bit of soreness in the "buttock area". She still limped slightly and her state of mind hadn't seemed to improve at all. She seemed preoccupied, even a bit depressed - most likely wondering about her upcoming ordeal. At breakfast we took pity on her and let her feed herself her oatmeal, although she still had to sit in the high-chair. It still hurt her to sit on it, but not as much as the day before. Once again she was wearing what she must have begun to think of as her uniform - halter top and g-string. This time the halter top was green and the g-string was a lacy white.

For the rest of the day we pretty much left Jenny alone, partly out of pity, and partly so as not to distract her from the serious worrying that she must have been up to! We had an early dinner, during which Jenny touched not a bite. Then we let a trembling and pale Jenny lead us into the punishment room, that is, the workshop.

That evening's session was to be Nancy's. She had worked hard and creatively in preparation, although it was certainly also true that we had all helped, so it was still a family endeavor wherein Nancy would take the lead. Your readers may be guessing now, based on Nancy's expressed interest, that Jenny's breasts were to be the focus for the evening. Well, if so, they are correct!

There has been much written on the punishment of teenage girls' bottoms, but very little on the punishment of their breasts. Why is this? Should young miscreants learn lessons only through one "entry point"? Why not make use of all available means of driving home a much needed lesson? And indeed, in the case of a girl who is a well-developed as Jenny, the breasts provide a very attractive and useful supplement to the bottom, in our opinion.

Make no mistake, we firmly believe in the bottom as the "fundamental" area of correction. It offers so many advantages. For example, the buttocks can absorb much more physical shock than any other part of the body, yet they are very sensitive as well. In addition, the position adopted by the recipient of a bottom whipping is a classic submissive position and thus is inherently humiliating.

However, one must admit that variety in discipline is a very valuable quality. New and as yet unexperienced types of punishment can be more frightening and confusing than ones that the culprit is used to.

What advantages do the breasts offer the disciplinarian? First, they are wonderfully sensitive; thus more subtle and varied means can be employed while causing as much discomfort as a vigorous thrashing of the buttocks might cause. Second, the culprit's face can be observed very easily for added enjoyment. Third, the culprit can see much that is going on - a skillful practitioner can make great use of this. In addition, breasts like Jenny's offer a GREAT DEAL of surface area on which to work and since they are young a firm, they can withstand quite a bit of vigor in application. With someone as shy and modest as Jenny there is of course the tremendous embarrassment of yet another private body part unveiled and at the mercy of tormentors.

The family all sat down in the comfortable arm chairs and I ordered Jenny to stand at attention in front of us. Her upper lip was quivering and her face was pale.

Nancy said, "OK, Jenny, you've probably guessed that this was coming. Well, whether you have or not, here goes. Remove your halter top."

Jenny remained still, but tears immediately started flowing from her beautiful brown eyes. She started to shake her head, "N-no, Nancy, p-please - I j-just can't!"

"So you don't want to show us your big boobies? After all you're showing most of them already! Remember, Jenny, your disobedience is going to cost you big time in special penalties. If I were you I'd do what I was told, and be quick about it, deary."

Jenny started crying in earnest now as she slowly reached both hand behind her neck to untie the top strap. This action had the satisfying side effect of bringing her boobs up into even more prominence than usual, with the large nipples straining at the fabric of the halter top. Dave and Timmy were fascinated. The top strap was untied and the two ends fell uselessly forward. Jenny slowly, agonizingly, reached around her back to the clasp of the back strap. But she seemed to lack the will to proceed. Putting her hands together in prayerfulness, she begged, "I CAN'T take it off in front of Timmy and Uncle Dave! Please, Nancy, please! I just CAN'T!"

Nancy said calmly, "Timmy, Dave, will you help me, please?" and all three rose from their chairs and approached that panicked girl. Jenny bolted, first running to the door, and then, after quickly realizing it was locked, running anywhere to escape her pursuers. As she ran, her breasts bounced up and down and sideways and the partially loosened halter top seemed in imminent danger of exposing that which she so desperately wanted to keep hidden.

Finally they trapped her in a corner. She struggled furiously, but uselessly, and was dragged to the center of the room. While Dave and Nancy held her, Timmy placed leather cuffs on her wrists and it was then short work to attach her wrists to straps hanging from pulleys in the ceiling. As she shrieked in fear and despair, Dave pushed one of the control buttons and the straps, as well as Jenny, were pulled upward. Dave stopped the mechanism when Jenny's heels were just off the floor.

Jenny did her best to balance on the balls of her feet as she unwillingly showed off her stretched body, including her well-shaven armpits. The halter top sagged dangerously. The g-string, her only other garment, seemed quite tiny and inadequate with her body so stretched, although it still DID JUST protect her most private parts from immodest exposure.

"Now, let's take care of that halter top." Nancy remarked, as she walked behind a terrified Jenny.

Jenny's pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, and three seconds later the skimpy garment was dangling from Nancy's triumphant hand and Jenny's magnificent breasts were completely bare. I use the term "magnificent" without exaggeration. These were truly wonderful breasts. They were quite large, yet not droopy in the least. Their curves, while grand, were still graceful and delicate. The nipples were large and protruding, yet looked to be very sensitive and vulnerable, as did the pail skin of the rest of the surfaces. The aureoles were proportional in size to the rest, and shared the reddish brown hue of her nipples.

Jenny seemed to be in a frenzy of mortification and embarrassment. It seemed to be intolerable to her that she was displaying her bare breasts to us. Most likely, it was the presence of Dave and Timmy that contributed the most to this feeling. She kept exclaiming, "Oh! Oh! Please, cover me! Oh, sob! Sob!" dripping hot tears onto her now naked breasts.

The pitiless Nancy threw the now useless halter-top into a corner of the room and then walked around to face the newly bared Jenny. "What a fine set you've got!" she said as both hands reached out, each to one of the fine boobies in front of her. While Jenny moaned and whined, Nancy let her hands rove all over the massive hemispheres.

"Let's try a pinch." She said, and squeezed hard with thumb and forefinger a fold of flesh from the inner surface of Jenny's left breast.

"Owwww! Oh, that hurts!" Jenny yelled and jerked.