A CURE FOR KLEPTOMANIA

BY MAX SMART

Part 3

In which a belly is pinkened and Jenny learns what bad girls get.

"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.