BEYOND TIED FOR PUNISHMENT

BY YOCOPYCAT

[ part 3 ]

Mondays

As you know, my daughter Jennifer began wetting her bed when she was nine and a bit years old and after that the life of the household - Jessica, my husband Paul and I - settled into more of a routine than before, in that serious punishment of Jess was reserved for weekends. That was very convenient, because there was no school and Paul was home all day.

During the week she was sometimes spanked for other naughtinesses, of course, but for those Paul did not use the belt, just the slipper. Nor did we tie her down. These were only mild over-the-knee spankings, and she seldom received more than two or three in any one week, barely ten minutes each. True, they were bare bottom, but that was merely because that is how she presented - he and I preferred her without panties, and she had no jeans, only very short dresses or sometimes a warm waist-length jersey instead of the flimsy dress in the winter. Even these mild punishments were quite a turn-on for me, as her wriggling little bottom reddened deliciously under the slipper and she struggled not to cry out or move away or put a hand to her bottom, any of which would double the punishment. It was partly the contrast in size, as Paul is a big man and Jess is small for her age, as might be expected of a half-Japanese bastard. She is an exotic looking little slant-eyed cheeky-faced black-haired child of rape, but, praise be, with a very spankable and well rounded little bottom, freely available to us at any time of the day as compensation for the trauma I had been through. Or of the night. I sometimes go into her bedroom just to admire her too short nightie and give her naked bottom a pinch.

Carrying out these mild spankings did stimulate Paul to the quite noticeable benefit of our love life. I could of course bring one about any time I wished by accusing the poor little brat of lack of respect or poor deportment, against which there was no appeal, but mostly I managed to resist the temptation. I knew that the weekend was sure to be highly satisfactory and would be appreciated by Paul and I all the more for weekday restraint. I found, however, that a Friday incident put Paul in the mood for Saturday. Before I realized it, a Friday warm-up spanking had became a routine prelude to the severe weekend beatings.

If she wet her bed on a weekday, I clasped what I called a punishment collar round her neck. Over the weekend she would have as many beatings as she wore collars, three being the maximum - and my preference! As Saturday grew closer she would become increasingly restless if there was no collar round her neck. A wet bed on Saturday morning could be confidently predicted in such circumstances!

I made the collars myself. They were quite flexible but close fitting, and I stuck small jewels on them to make them acceptable as decoration. The clasps were at the back, with tiny locks. To make them more erotic to me, I added rings as if for a dog lead. No doubt I would find a use for them later. She could wear all three collars without a lot of discomfort, so long as she held her chin up. I wondered if it was necessary to remove them for school, but decided to risk leaving them on, as they really look quite respectable. In any case, she knew better than to complain to a teacher, after what happened the first time, or talk about spankings to other kids. If she was teased about her collars, that was her problem. All she had to do was stop wetting the bed.

When she wet her bed she was allowed - indeed required - to come into ours. She had to creep down to the bottom and then work her way up the bed between Paul's legs, licking all the way, stopping when her lips reached his belly-button until he was ready to spank her for disturbing us. He had a long handled paddle specially for spanking the child in that position and found it quite a turn-on. We had some of our best sex with Jess in bed with us.

For trips to town for shopping or such she wore a short coat buttoned over the dress or jersey, and sandals. I really enjoyed taking her around with me, knowing how exposed she was beneath that short coat. Once the bottom button came off on a windy day, and that was quite exciting! For school, of course, she wore the school uniform. We had withdrawn her from gym and sports for fear of bruises being noticed, so panties were not required at school either.

One Monday afternoon at the supermarket I noticed a smart elderly gentleman following us. I was quite flattered until I realized that his furtive glances were for Jess, not me! He was undoubtedly attracted by her cheeky exotic face and long legs beneath the bottom of the brief coat. You may be surprised that she has long legs in view of her Japanese father. Clearly they came from me, long for her size, slender and shapely, just enough meat on the thighs. Real jail bait! And here he came. He ran his cart into mine. Corny! I thought, but never mind. I might find some amusement in cultivating a man who looked rich and was clearly a pedophile.

"Oh I am sorry," he said, bowing to me rather nicely. "Not looking where I was going! So sorry. And," he said, looking admiringly at Jess, "you too, please forgive me young lady."

She just gazed at him. She is not allowed to speak to strangers.

"I am afraid Jessica is very shy," I said.

"Oh dear!" he said. "I thought I might ask her if I could take her picture? I am a photographer, you know."

"Well, what a co-incidence," I said, thinking quickly. "We were on our way to have a portrait made of her, weren't we, Jessie dear?" She nodded solemnly. She had no idea what we were talking about, but she certainly knows better than to contradict her mother.

"My camera is in my car," he said. "Let me give you ladies a lift to your home and we can do it there."

His car was top of the range and I went around by bus. I began to see distinct possibilities in this. The damp patch in his trousers betrayed the strength of his feelings. If he liked the little brat's face, good for him. I fancied he would like her bottom even more.

So he drove us home and parked in the back yard. We entered the back door and when we reached the living room I said to Jess: "Give Uncle -"

"Bob," he said quickly. I think he was lying, but no matter.

"Give Uncle Bob a kiss and then go and take your coat off."

"Or the other way round," he said, smiling at her as he sat down. "Come here child and I will take your coat off."

"Good idea," I said. "Jessie dear, Uncle Bob has come to take your portrait and he might do it for nothing if you are very nice to him -" I received an eager nod from Bob. "So do whatever he tells you to."

He brought her to stand between his legs where he was sitting, and began to unbutton her coat. As he slipped it off her shoulders and was confronted by the very short dress he jumped up in amazement. Delighted amazement. "W-w-why, she has no panties!" he exclaimed, raising the hem of it.

"Well she's only nine," I said. "I didn't think they were needed yet. A lot of extra washing, you know, for a single mother. But if you think - "

"No, no!" he said hurriedly. "I quite agree with you. Absolutely. Quite unnecessary for another year or two." He cleared his throat. "You are a single mother, then?"

"Oh yes," I said. "I am all on my own. Jessica came after I was raped by a gang of Japanese. She is a real problem, the naughty little brat. Money and discipline for example - "

"Maybe I could help?"

"Which with? Money or discipline?"

"Both, perhaps, if you will be kind enough to allow it."

This was definitely getting interesting. "Corner, Jessica," I said. She went and stood there with her hands on her head, as she had been taught, watching us. She stood very straight with her legs apart and her raised arms drew the flimsy dress up well above her prominent little slit. I saw his eyes gleaming.

"I send her to the corner if she has been naughty," I said apologetically.

"Has she been very naughty, then?" he asked, a little breathlessly. I had him summed up now. He was definitely hooked.

"Yes, she is a very naughty child. She is always breaking things. This morning she broke some expensive china which I cannot afford to replace."

He drew out his wallet. His fat wallet, I was glad to see. I like men who carry real money as well as credit cards. "Two hundred dollars?" I ventured. No problem. He handed the money over without a murmur. I should have asked for more, I noted.

"Shall I go and make some coffee?" I asked. "While you see to her punishment?"

When I came back with the coffee tray twenty minutes later, Jessica was in the corner again, her back to us now. Her bottom nice and red. She was sobbing and he had flooded his trousers. The photography, it seemed, had been forgotten.

"No problem with her?" I asked.

"Oh no, she is very docile. But she should not be so careless with your china. I could make something of her for you, I think, but it would have to be on a regular schedule."

We arranged that he would call the next Monday, to see if she had been naughty again. If so, we agreed, he could take her to his place and punish her there. He would be more relaxed that way, he said, and make a better job of it. And it would give me a few hours of peace, he pointed out. So we agreed he could have her for four hours.

I dressed her in her jersey that day, naked from the waist down, and stood her in the corner. I know that turns Paul on and I expected it to do the same for Bob. It did!

"How bad today?" he asked, walking over and kissing her.

"What does $500 of damage suggest to you?"

"Well, that suggests to me that she needs pretty hard punishment," he said. "Will you be content to leave it entirely to me?"

"Certainly. You must do as you see fit in her best interests. We cannot have her growing up as the careless little brat she is now."

"Every week?" he asked. "Four hours every Monday?"

"I think she needs the discipline," I said, "and I certainly need the money to support her." He nodded his agreement quite eagerly and I turned to Jessica. "Come here," I said. "Ask Uncle Bob if he will give you a really good thrashing today and every Monday until you are a good little girl."

It was the first time she had talked to him. "Please Uncle Bob," she said in a frightened little voice, "take me home with you and give me a really good ther-ther-thrashing today and - and every Mon-mon-monday until I am a g-good little g-girl."

"OK, dear," said Bob, ignoring the stutter, which I had never heard before. "That's agreed - I will really try hard to make a good little girl of you, I promise - come and give me another kiss then!" He lifted her to his mouth, holding her up with his hands between her legs as Paul sometimes does. Then he carried her to the mantelpiece and put the money on it. "We don't need the coat, I have a drive-in garage at the other end. Hey, I like that collar! Do you have a lead for it? A little humiliation will help make a good girl of her, don't you think?"

It was unlucky for Jess that she had a collar on so early in the week that day. Very unusual, actually. However, I clipped the dog lead to her collar and he set her down, then took a short piece of rope from his pocket, turned her round and tied her forearms together high up behind her back and led her proudly to the car. He aided her difficult climb up into her seat next to him with a few well-laced slaps to the bottom. I saw him fix the lead to a door handle after locking it, and put a rug over her lap. A careful man, I was glad to see. And gratifyingly generous with it. When he was out in the road I saw that he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other under the rug, and she seemed to be squirming a little.

An unfortunate result of the collar incident, unfortunate for Jess that is, was that Bob asked for it on his second visit.

"Oh!" I said, somewhat taken aback. "She doesn't always wear one." I saw his face drop. "But of course," I added, "You can put it on for her - there they are on the mantelpiece." It was collars on Mondays from then on, earned or not. Paul did remark that her bed wetting seemed to be getting worse, but accepted it as only to be expected, and in fact our weekends were all the better for it. I never mentioned Bob to Paul of course. Why stir up trouble? Men get jealous so easily.

After a few weeks Bob started having lunch with us before taking Jess away, and then exceeding his four hours more and more. He increased his weekly payment without being asked. Evidently our little creature suited him well. I noticed from his first visit that she could not speak to him without stuttering, and now she is doing it all the time, whether he is there or not.

One lunch-time I asked him if I should punish her for it.

"Of course," he said in surprise. "Of course you should beat her for it. I do my best, but the more I beat her the worse it seems to get." He turned to Jessica. "What do you think, my dear?"

She was standing between us, holding the wine bottle Bob had brought, ready to top up our glasses. It was a jersey day, as Bob seemed to prefer her that way, and I had made up her face - he liked that too. She hesitated, looking so cute as she stood there wondering what she dare say. "P-p-please, I th-think it w-would be better if you didn't b-b-b-beat me s-s-so much, th-then I m-might b-be able to s-s-s-s-stop."

Bob laughed, slapping her exposed bottom playfully. "What rubbish the child comes out with," he said. "I shall certainly persevere with the beatings. Greater severity is the only way forward in situations like this, I always think."

So we persevered also, although unfortunately it seemed to be counter-productive with us also.

However, that was Mondays nicely looked after. And weekends? I fear you will have to wait if you want a blow by blow description of a typical weekend. I really do not feel up to it right now. Paul has developed into far more of a sadist recently than I had thought possible.