A CURE FOR KLEPTOMANIA

BY MAX SMART

Part 5

Wherein the Jenny becomes more acquainted with the feel of
leather and learns how to do a hamster imitation.

It occurred to me that, in my brief discourse on the wonders of
bottoms, I had unfairly neglected the thigh. Thus I wanted to
make sure and NOT neglect Jenny's thighs NOW. I thought I would
give them the individual attention the lovely columns of flesh
deserved. I picked the left thigh first and backed up just a bit.
Since I'm right handed I hoped that this adjustment would allow
the tails of the heavy taws to wrap around and bite into the
delicate, and as yet untouched, inner thigh.

I let fly. The stroke was a hard one, but the tails bridged the
gap between her legs, hitting the right thigh. Jenny's scream
told me that this was effective, but it wasn't what I was aiming
for, so I further adjusted my position. The next severe stroke
succeeded in punishing ONLY her right upper thigh, with the tails
wrapping greedily around it. The effect was impressive, and I
thought I noted a new higher pitch in Jenny's squeal of agony.

I gave her five more like this on her left thigh, sending the
poor girl into paroxysms of wriggling and yelling as I painted
the lovely section of flesh a deep purplish red. The pain in her
thigh caused Jenny to pull her left leg as far to one side as she
could. This didn't really help her situation a bit, but she
wasn't really acting logically. The resulting posture was
somewhat amusing as well as revealing.

Next I moved to Jenny's right side and began delivering backhand
blows to her right thigh. These weren't quite as powerful as the
ones the left thigh had received, but they were still good ones -
I actually pride myself on my tennis backhand! The results were
certainly acceptable. Poor Jenny bawled and yelled, and struggled
fiercely against her bonds. I gave her a total of ten backhand
strokes on her tender right thigh, gradually increasing my skill
and effectiveness throughout. Jenny's reactions were exemplary -
she put on a show that all of us enjoyed thoroughly.

I paused to observe the results of my handiwork. Jenny's lovely
large bottom, well bent and well presented, had been made, to my
eyes, even lovelier by our strenuous efforts. Adding to the
aesthetics of the experience were the gyrations Jenny was
continuing to perform for us and her seemingly endless weeping
and moaning.

"Is your little botty a bit sore, Jenny?" I asked, giving her a
playful pinch just under her right buttock.

She jerked and squealed, showing us that indeed she WAS pretty
sore back there, but there was no spoken response. Jenny seemed
wrapped up in her physical sensations, which I admit must have
been considerable. I leaned over the horse and grabbed her
conveniently located ponytail. Roughly I yanked her head back.
This got her attention and she yelped.

"Jenny, I asked you a question. Is your poor little bottom a bit
sore?"

She whimpered, "Y-yesss. Ohhhh, it hurrrrts!" continuing the slow
bump and grind that had us all so entranced.

"Do you feel that you've been sufficiently punished for your bad
behavior?" "I-I¡uh¡.I don't k-now." She didn't want to say
anything wrong, but then she broke down, " Ohhhh, please - yes!
I've been punished enough! I've learned my lesson! I'll never
steal again. Ohhh, I hurt so much and I'm so humiliated in front
of everybody and all¡"

"I'm surprised and disappointed, Jenny. It's certainly clear to
us that your actions deserve a great deal more punishment, and
believe me you're going to get it. But it very much disturbs me
that YOU think you've been punished enough. That means that you
haven't acquired a strong enough sense of just how bad you've
been and how much you deserve punishment."

"Ohh, I know I was VERY bad, but, Aunt Marge, I just CAN'T take
anymore. My b-b-ottom hurts SO much. I couldn't stand anymore!"
she wailed, meanwhile inciting us to inflict even more pain on
her devoted bum through her continual waving and of it in our
faces.

"Now, Jenny, I'm sure your bottom hurts quite a bit. But, believe
me, it can and will hurt quite bit more. In fact, I think you may
look back on this particular moment as a time when your bottom
didn't yet really hurt so bad. Besides that, Jenny, you have a
wonderfully large and robust bottom. We have hardly begun to test
its limits. I'm sure it can take a great deal more of what we
want to give it. So don't worry!" I chuckled and gave her a
reassuring pat on her red and purple rear. Surprisingly, it
didn't seem to reassure her very much, and she broke down into
heartrending sobs.

"Now, let's try and see if we can get an improvement in your
attitude, Jenny. I want you to tell us that you have been very
bad, and then I want you to ask me to strap your naughty bottom
VERY VERY hard. OK? Let's try it."

Nothing except soft sobs.

"GO on, Jenny, or it will be MUCH worse. I think you may realize
by now that I'm not kidding when I say that. Speak!"

"I've been v-ery, sob, very b-bad. Please, punish my n-aughty
b-b-ot¡oh, I can't!"

I drew back the taws and, taking careful aim, gave Jenny a medium
light stroke, aiming carefully so that the tales landed right on
her pussy. She screamed and jerked. I was pleased by her reaction
to such a light stroke. It seemed that she had a VERY sensitive
pussy.

Jenny was gasping and sighing. She seemed shocked that dear Aunt
Marge would do such a thing.

"Jenny, let me be clear. I'm going to start giving the part of
you I just touched the same kind of treatment I've been giving
your bottom, unless you say what I told you to say - right away."

Jenny clenched her legs together, obviously trying to shield the
delicate organ that I had so cruelly threatened. Her tightly bent
position, however, ensured that it continued to peep curiously
from between her thighs. Of course the attentive reader will
remember that Jenny was wearing a black lace g-string, so her
modesty was still protected. I hope that this provides some
relief to those readers with more delicate sensibilities!

She answered pitifully, "Ohhhh don't - I'll say it! Uhhh, let's
see¡please punish my naugty b-b¡ohh! My naughty b-bottom, very
very hard! Ohhhh!"

"You can be sure that I will, Jenny dear. Oh, Dave, how many has
she had so far?" Dave was good at keeping count.

"24, if we count that last one."

"Well, Jenny, just to show you that we're not totally heartless,
we'll count that last little baby stroke that you seemed to
dislike so much. Your getting 50 with the strap so that leaves
26."

"T-t-twenty-six more? Oh, God, no! It's too many¡"

Whap! Whap! I had returned to my forehand position and given her
two good ones square across the middle of her spacious rear end.
The cheeks rippled and Jenny screamed.

I settled into a rhythm: I would give her a solid, snapping
stroke of the heavy leather; then I would give her a few seconds
to experience the pain as fully as possible and for her yells to
die down just a bit; and then I would draw back and give her
another. I worked her rear area from the top of her bottom crack
down to the backs of her knees, paying no attention to her
agonized screams and pleas for mercy. However I DID pay a lot of
attention to her lovely gyrations, and the wonderfully mournful
expressions on her upended face. Dave, Timmy, and Nancy watched
with what appeared to be rapt enjoyment.

Dave signaled me that there were five left. I delivered them up
under the curve of her bottom, realizing that the impudent little
pussy would get a taste of the strap as it crashed up into her
lower cheeks. These blows seemed to bring a new edge, a new kind
of squealing sound, into her screams, and caused her to raise her
bottom up as high as she could, instinctively trying to retreat
from the strap.

Finally, the allotted amount had been delivered and I stopped. I
suddenly realized I was tired. Jenny continued, as if in
perpetual motion, to cry, moan and squeal. She alternately would
push her thighs and tummy against the cross bar and clinch her
deeply reddened bottom cheeks seemingly as hard as she could, and
then shudderingly push her naughty rear back out at her admiring
audience, yawning the globes charmingly. I noticed that in her
struggles her g-string had gotten wedged into her slit, thus
exposing most of her hairy cunt. It was an impressive site, and
one that seemed especially fascinating to Dave and Timmy.

In order to humiliate her a little more I reached down and, as I
rearranged the g- string to its former, more modest, condition, I
said, "Really, Jenny, how rude of you to expose yourself back
here. Don't you realize there are men present? I though you were
a modest young lady." As usual, everyone but Jenny thought this
was very funny and laughed heartily. Jenny could only wail out
her embarrassment and try once more to attempt fruitlessly to
diminish the rear view she was providing us.

"Well, your strapping is over, Jenny." I said. Jenny responded
with what seemed to be a sigh of relief, mixed in with her
continuing moans and sobs.

"Let her loose, kids." I said to Nancy and Timmy. They quickly
moved to untie poor Jenny's arms and legs. Nancy thoughtfully
remembered to detach Jenny's ponytail from her g-string. Jenny
tried to push her self up with her hands on her knees, but
couldn't quite do it. Dave, who was standing right behind her,
feasting his eyes on the scrumptious bum, decide to help her by
giving her a tremendous open handed whack on across the center.
It worked! Jenny screamed and shot bolt upright, grabbing her
aching, smarting cheeks with both hands and rubbing vigorously,
seemingly forgetting what an amusing picture she was presenting.

"That's enough rubbing, Jenny. Hands at your sides and stand at
attention! Now!" She complied, her back straight, her shoulders
back, and her tits front and center.

I continued, "While I was, umm, adjusting your g-string for you,
Jenny, I noticed that you don't seem to be getting turned on.
That's good. Sometimes a girl will get turned on by this type of
punishment, which of course decreases the aversive effect. Oh,
but I forget - you've told us that you never masturbate, so you
might not even know what I mean by ¡®turned on'."

Jenny squirmed and hung her head in great embarrassment during
this. Dave and Nancy smiled and Timmy stifled a snigger. Jenny,
of course, still knew nothing about the incriminating video
tapes. Unconsciously, her hands started rubbing her aching bottom
again.

"I though I told you to stop rubbing your bottom, Jenny. Do you
want more of the strap?" I asked with a smile.

Jenny snapped to attention again, but she was unable to prevent
the sudden rush of new tears, the heaving of her shoulders, and
the quivering of her breasts in their skimpy red halter top. She
really was a delicious victim!

"Is your bottom hurting you very much, Jenny?" I asked cruelly.

Jenny could only give a mournful moan in reply.

"How would you like Timmy to rub your bottom for you? Would that
make it feel better?" I continued, drawing smiles from my family
members.

"No! Ohhhh, please, Aunt Marge¡it hurrrts sooo bad!" she pleaded,
wringing her hands in anguish.

I answered, "Ohh, my, Jenny! I'm sorry to hear that, since you
still have your caning coming up."

This checked her tears AND her breathing. She could only stare at
me open- mouthed. Clearly she had believed that she had suffered
about as much as it was possible for a young lady to suffer. I
suspect, also, that she wasn't really sure what I meant by
"caning".

"Do you know what I mean by ¡®caning', Jenny?"

She continued to be speechless for a couple of seconds, then,
"I-I d-don't k-know what it is, Aunt Marge, but, oh please! My
b-b¡ my b-bot¡. I'm SO sore - don't beat me any more!"

"Nancy, why don't you fetch the cane, and we'll try to help Jenny
here get a better idea of just what caning is."

In no time at all a beaming Nancy picked our "Judicial" model
rattan cane from among the many implements hanging on the wall.
This was the heaviest model we owned, and was intended for
serious punishments only. She held it out for Jenny to look at.

Nancy said, "This is a cane, Jenny. Do you think you might have a
better idea now of what a ¡®caning' might be?" grinning at her
poor miserable victim, "What do you think - do you think it will
do a number on that fat bottom of yours? Watch this!"

While Jenny watched with a demoralized expression, Nancy, slowly
bent the cane into a semicircle. "Notice how flexible it is,
Jenny. That will help me to really whip it into your butt. I'm
going to make you wish you were still getting the strap. I've
been practicing!"

"Oh, please, please¡" Jenny sobbed. If she had realized that her
pleading only made us thirst to torment her further, perhaps she
would have put a lid on it. As she stood there I noticed that,
now that she was upright, her copious tears were streaming down
her neck and wetting the tops of her marvelous breasts, making
them glisten in the track lighting.

"Now, Jenny," I said, "For this next edition of your punishment,
we are going to reintroduce the self-discipline and obedience
factor. You will have the opportunity, by exercising your
self-control to the utmost, to keep the number of strokes Nancy
gives you to a minimum. Nancy will explain in more detail in a
moment, but first¡."

I pulled the sheet off of the gynecological exam table that your
readers will remember from my previous letter. Since we didn't
need them for this edition of Jenny's punishment, we had removed
the stirrup attachments, so that it was more or less and ordinary
doctor's examination table. However, Dave had made some further
modifications. There were a number of strategically placed straps
distributed over the surface, so that victim could be secured in
a variety of ways.

"Up on the table, Jenny, on your hands and knees." Nancy ordered
the poor, terrified teen.

"Ohhhh, please¡!"

"Come on, Jenny" I said, "Remember your self-discipline."

Jenny had to be helped up onto the table, as it turned out,
because her sore bottom made it difficult for her to perform the
necessary acrobatics. Once we got her on her hands and knees, we
instructed her to lower down onto her forearms and proceeded to
lower her front end so that her forearms lay on the table. This
brought her nipples in contact with the surface. We then strapped
her forearms to the table, as she moaned and pleaded for mercy.
It was also a simple matter to attach her ankles and calves as
well. Her legs and arms were both fixed about two feet apart in
order to help her balance.

Nancy and the rest of us had this all planned out, and Nancy knew
what she needed to say to Jenny. "Jenny, I want to you struggle a
bit. That's good. It looks like you're well secured. But check
this out, Jenny." Nancy put her hand under Jenny and pushed up on
her tummy. "Lets arch your back UP, that's it, UP. Notice how
this posture sort of pulls your bottom in - it's sorta like
you're trying to avoid punishment, like you don't want it. Well,
we don't like this posture, so keep that in mind. Now let's try
curving your back the other way. Good girl, your tummy goes down!
Can you feel how your bottom is arched out and spread and offered
more conveniently to my cane? Now let's improve it just a little
more. With your back still curved, stick your bottom up and out
as much as you can. This is the posture we LIKE."

Jenny was too terrified to disobey Nancy and pushed her bottom
out even more, thus offering not only the cheeks but all that was
between them and between her smooth thighs to Nancy's pleasure.
It seemed that Jenny had a terror of her cousin. As it would turn
out her intuitions were correct!

Nancy continued, "That's very good, Jenny, just hold that
position. Now, remember when I was thirteen and you were eleven
and we had those hamsters? Remember what the female hamster
looked like when she was ready for the male hamster to mount her?
I remember that you found that especially fascinating, even
though you pretended not to. Well, that's just what you look like
- a hamster in heat. Ha, ha! Hmm, let's have a look at you from
behind. My goodness, Jenny, it's certainly a good thing you have
that g-string on. Otherwise you'd be giving us all a totally
excellent show, for sure! In fact, I'll tell you what I'll do.
You're getting 25 strokes of the cane - that is if you're good.
If you'll ask Timmy to remove your g- string, I'll knock it down
to fifteen strokes. What do you say, Jenny?"

No answer, only whimpers and moans.

Nancy added, "Let me tell you, girl, the cane gets worse with
each stroke. By the time you get your fifteenth, I suspect you'll
wish you had gone for my deal."

"Ohhhh, Nancy, please! I can't take anymore! But I CAN'T have my
g-g-g¡string off - I would die - it's too immodest! Please, can't
we wait just a while until my bottom isn't quite so sore - I
REALLY can't take anymore! It hurts so much."

"Ha, ha!" Nancy laughed cruelly, "You don't actually have any
choice do you, Jenny? You'll take exactly as much as you get.
Now, if you'll remember back to those hamsters - when the female
is in that special state that you're imitating, she would kind of
wiggle her behind a little. Why don't you give that a try? Come
on, lets have a little wiggle!"

Again, while Jenny kept the arched and offered position that
Nancy had put her in, she wasn't following Nancy's recent order -
her rear end remained stationary.

"Wiggle that bottom, darling, or that g-string is coming off!
Timmy, will you do the honors?" Nancy asked her eager brother.

That did the trick! Jenny gave us a cute bottom wiggle.
Admittedly, it was rather half-hearted, but it WAS a wiggle. It
was quite charming, especially with her big, well offered bottom
was wonderfully adorned with splotches, welts and bruises - many
of the colors of the rainbow. Jenny accompanied the wiggle with a
soft whimper.

"Jenny, listen good, OK." Began Nancy, "I told you that you're
getting a minimum of twenty-five with this cane. Look at it
again. It's very long and quite solid, isn't it? Believe me you
won't want to get anymore than the minimum if you can avoid it.
Well here's how you can avoid it. After each stroke I will wait a
few seconds for you to do what you have to do - you know, scream
or yell or whatever, and I guess you'll probably jerk your bottom
around a bunch. That's fine, but at some point I'll say
¡®Attention!'. That will be your cue to very quickly return to
the position you're in now - your lovely hamster imitation -and
then say, ¡®Thank you, Nancy. Please give me stroke number¡'
whatever number is the count of the next stroke. THEN, after
you've said that, and I expect it to be in a cheerful and polite
tone of voice, you will give us your cute little bottom wiggle."

This brought a new round of sobbing.

"Yes, Jenny, you wiggle your bottom very well. In fact, let's see
you do it again. Now, Jenny! Good girl! Now, you have to do all
of those things very quickly - you will have exactly ten seconds.
After ten seconds I will give you the next stroke. It will count
ONLY if you have completed your tasks and done them in an
acceptable manner. Now lets review. What do you do after I say
¡®Attention!'?"

"I¡arch my back¡and¡st-stick my b-b-bottom out¡"

"Very good! You stick your big bottom out. And what do you say?"

"Ohhhhh! I say, "Thank you and please give me the next stroke."

"No, you have to tell me the number of the stroke."

"Oh! Yes, OK!"

"And then?"

"I w-w¡, I w-wiggle my¡my b-bottom." Another flood of tears
followed this.

Nancy brought the cane up to touch gently against Jenny's sore,
swollen bottom. Jenny gave a gasp and jerked her bottom forward.
Nancy adjusted her position so that the tip of the cane would
just catch the far side of Jenny's rump. This was calculated to
produce maximum effect, of course.

"Jenny! Attention!" order Nancy. Jenny obeyed, and her bottom was
again provocatively offered to us and to the cane.

Nancy continued, "Now for this first stroke, you can leave out,
of course, the part about thanking me for the last stroke, since
I haven't given you one yet, but you still must perform the other
steps. Attention!"

"Please give me the next stroke¡I-I mean please give me
stroke¡n-number¡oh, Nancy, I'm so sore¡"

"Attention, girl!" Nancy said, with a smile.

"Please give me stroke number o-one."

"Good, and what else? Remember the wiggle! And hurry up or the
first stroke won't count."

Jenny gave us a marvelous wiggle.

Nancy brought the cane down with a searing stroke across the
fullest part of Jenny's already well cooked bum. There was a
report like a pistol shot and a gasp from Jenny, the flesh of her
bottom rippled, her hips jerked forward and her head flew
backwards.

It is important, professor, for your readers to understand that
the "Judicial" cane, so named by our supplier, is quite a
formidable instrument. It is significantly both longer and
heavier than canes that one sees in typical spanking videos. It's
effect can only be described, and inadequately at that, as
"extremely painful".

Emitting a series of gasping "AHH!" ¡®s, Jenny writhed in pain,
clinching her cheeks and attempting to tuck her rump under
herself. She gave out a long, agonized, moan. The cane mark was
at first white against her red and purple bottom, but quickly
rose up into an angry weal of an even darker red.

Gradually Jenny managed to get some kind of hold on herself, but
she wasn't very far along before Nancy said, "Jenny, attention!"

Jenny seemed to hear Nancy, but wasn't quite able to remember,
through her haze of pain, what was expected of her. Ten seconds
passed and, alas, our cute young victim didn't properly come to
"attention".

Nancy sent a second whistling cut into Jenny's bottom, just a
couple of inches below the first one. Another surprised gasp
followed by a mournful groan was Jenny's vocal response. Her
physical response was to clench her bottom cheeks again and throw
her head back in pain. The stripe that appeared was admirably
parallel with the first stripe, both perfectly perpendicular to
her bottom crack.

Jenny managed a few words, "Ohhhh stop! Please, please! Ohh, it
hurts!" in a shrill, desperate voice. It was clear that the cane
didn't agree with her at all.

Nancy laughed, "Now, Jenny, please don't ask me to stop. I'm
having too much fun, and there's so much area left on your big
butt to touch up. Anyway, if you wanted me to stop you'd be
better behaved. You know that last stroke didn't count because
you didn't do what I told you to do. Do you remember what you're
supposed to do when I say ¡®attention'?"

"Ohh, yes, I remember!"

"So tell us, then."

Jenny sobbed a bit, and then said, "I'm supposed to thank you for
the last stroke and then ask for stroke number three¡and¡"

"Come on, Jenny. We're not playing around, here. Keep count -
that last stroke didn't count, so the next stroke is number two.
I'm giving you a break telling you. Now, what comes after that?"

"And then I'm supposed to¡to¡wiggle my bottom! Ohhhh, sob!"

"Well, good, girl! Now let's do it! Attention!"


"Ohhh, uhh¡th-thank you, Nancy, please give me stroke
number¡ooh¡number two." At this point I was torn. "Torn how?" you
might ask, "Torn because you wondered whether Jenny's punishment
might be getting a bit too intense?" And I answer, no, not that.
I was very happy with the way Jenny's punishment was progressing,
and I was looking forward to its continuing for the rest of her
stay. At this particular moment I was torn as to whether to pay
most attention to the lovely sight of Jenny's lovely, big, bottom
rising and spreading as she assumed the "posture", or to pay more
attention to the expressions on her woeful face as she
experienced the terrible humiliation of both the posture and the
sentences she had to say. I decided to watch her face, and, as it
turned out, was richly rewarded. Jenny's face expressed the
deepest humiliated misery one could imagine, with tears in her
big brown eyes and a tremble on her full lips, as she performed
the lovely wiggle of here well-presented and well-marked
posterior.

Whistle¡Snap! Nancy wasted no time in bringing the next severe
stroke crashing into Jenny's poor bruised rump. Jenny looked like
a bucking bronco as she jerked her body in anguish, her hips
plunging forward as if attempting escape from the sharp pain of
the cane, her head jerking up and back, her long black ponytail
flying, her big boobs swinging forward¡

"Ahhhh! Ow! Ow! Ohhhhh! It hurts! Stop!" she screamed and sobbed.
The white, vivid new stripe was just ABOVE the first stripe and
perfectly parallel. Nancy's initial pattern seemed to be to
spread out, up and down, from the first stripe which had been
painted right across the middle of Jenny's squirming, writhing
butt. Nancy really was a very skillful caner. The stripes were
raised and very closely spaced and an angry flush had developed
around them.

Jenny was still moaning and groaning, trying to contain the
fierce, stinging pain of the latest stroke, when Nancy said,
"Attention, Jenny, attention!" Jenny's bottom kept gyrating, but
didn't seem to be heeding Nancy's call. Ten seconds passed, and¡

Whack! The cane slashed down into the unprepared Jenny's rear
end, painting yet another parallel stripe just below the lowest
one already there. Jenny's surprised gurgle was followed by a
full throated scream and some enchantingly mad hip jerking.