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JOSIE [ part 5 ] When I arrived at the house for my weekend alone with Josie, I used the key very quietly, hoping to catch her unawares. But there she was, standing in her corner. How long had the poor kid been waiting there, scared shitless, I wondered? Pam had prepared her, as promised, so she was wearing only her whipping clothes. They were not clothes at all really, for she was naked except for a rope round her waist to which her wrists were tied, holding them near to her hips, so she could not use arms or hands to protect herself against the whipping she had been promised. She stood facing out of the corner, at attention. I took the whip down from over the fireplace and brought it over to her. “Dear me,” I said, “I do believe you forgot to polish it!” She hung her head and said nothing. I was sure Pam had refused to lift it down for her, but she would not dare to say that. Pam is Josie’s step-mother, who had set things up so that I had the use of eight-year-old Josie for the weekend. “Well,” I said, “did you polish it?” She shook her head miserably, knowing she would be punished for it. “Mummy left a message,” she said hastily, trying I think to divert my attention. ”I think you will be cross but please don’t whip me for that.” “What is it?” “She said she has locked her bedroom door, so we must both sleep in my bed.” I was delighted, of course, but I made angry noises. “We’ll see about that!” I said. “Come and stand here and open your legs wide.” I prowled round her without touching her. “Head up,” I said. “I have a present for my little slave girl.” “What, a real one? Is it for your favourite little slave girl? To show she really is your favourite? To show you truly like her?” “Yes.” I took the cat collar out of my bag and showed it to her. It was really ornamental with imitation jewellery. “Ooh, it’s beautiful.” I fastened it round her neck. It really set off her nakedness very well. To me it signified her servitude, but she seemed to be delighted. “Oh thank you Uncle Jim!” Uncle Jim, indeed. It was the first time I had been called an Uncle. I was quite flattered. “Uncle Jim,” she said timidly. “Mummy says you will whip me like my Daddy did but I don’t think you will.” “Oh?” I said in surprise. “I think you like spanking little girls but you are too kind to whip them really really hard.” Well! That was an eye-opener. An eight-year-old had got me sorted to rights! “So shall we have the whipping now?” I said. “Oh no please. Oh please not. I don’t want to be whipped. I know it will hurt a lot. I know you will do it a lot and I know I shall scream if you don’t gag me. I just don’t think you will go mad like Daddy did. I think you should undo me now and whip me tomorrow. Then I can cook for us.” I laughed. She really captivated me. I undid her. “I have more presents for my favourite little slave girl,” I said. “May I get dressed first please?” “Your Mother said not to be shy with me.” “I know, but I can’t help it.” “Well,” I said. “You may not wear any of your clothes all weekend.” “Oh Uncle Jim!” “But it so happens,” I opened my case, “that I bought these for you.” I held up a jersey and a pair of jeans. She was into them in a flash, and real cute she looked as she danced round me in delight. “Right!” I said. “Now, jeans off. They are only for outdoors.” “Oh!” They came off very reluctantly. “You look fine in just the jersey,” I said. So she did. A cat collar and a jersey, and naked from the waist down, that set off her blond beauty and nice little figure very well. It emphasized her very spankable little buttocks rather erotically, encouraging plenty of spankings. “Now I feel more shy, not less,” she said. “Tough,” I said. “I know, let’s go and get some fish and chips,and I can wear those lovely jeans.” “Or,” I said, “suppose we dine out? We have a car, remember.” “Oh Uncle Jim! A ride in your car? And eat at a proper café?” “At a posh restaurant,” I said. “And I will whip you when we get back, and we shall see if I can do it as good as your dad did.” “You can try,” she said. “But you aren’t cruel enough.” “I get carried away sometimes.” “Oh! Like when you used the spiky part of the hairbrush?” “Yes.” “Well,“ she said, “I will remember that I am your favourite little slave girl and you still like me even if you do get carried away a bit when you are beating me.” “Oh yes, the whipping is going to be a real one, but the harder I beat you the more I like you.” “I don't want to think about being whipped. Can we go now? Do I wear my collar?” “Yes we can go soon, and yes you wear your collar. In fact, nobody is allowed to take it off except me. It shows that you are my little slave girl” “Your favourite little slave girl!” She had put on her jeans and shoes. “Come on then, Uncle Jim! Take me out to this posh restaurant and let’s forget that you are going to whip me.” “Only until we get back,” I said. “It will be a real whipping when we come back.” She shivered. “I know.” |