A CURE FOR KLEPTOMANIA

BY MAX SMART

Part 2

Wherein our young heroine learns to feel at home and the family
watches some interesting television.

"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!