Samantha held her daughter close to her chest, embracing her as she bawled and sobbed. Elegant fingers lightly stroked Courtney's long, thick silky honey-blonde hair, rocking her tiny finger atop her lap.

She'd only heard a little so far before Courtney had erupted in semi-hysterical sobs, but what little Samantha had heard hadn't made her happy in the least, and she had a very unsettling feeling things were worse even then it seemed. But, until Courtney calmed down enough to talk with, there was no use scolding or getting angry.

Finally, after several minutes of tears, ranging from deep, gulping, racking sobs to finally sniffles Samantha quietly asked, "Courtney, just what is going on?"

"Oh Mom, I really messed up! I'm so sorry!" the little child miserably said.

Still lightly stroking her little shoulders and back Samantha replied, "How Courtney? I still don't know exactly what's going on? And where is Sasha?"

The tiny form huddled on her lap seemed to curl in upon herself even tighter. "I messed up bad Mom. Real bad! I . . . I broke my promise to you."

Samantha just kept stroking her back, patiently waiting.

"Sasha was bullying me last week. Calling me a baby and stuff. She made me so mad Mom!" Courtney said, "I hate her!" she said with sheer venom, deeply startling Samantha. "I wish she'd go home!"

Samantha knew that things had been, well, rocky, between the girls. But she hadn't thought things had degenerated so badly as to evoke that degree of anger and spleen in her daughter. Obviously she'd been mistaken, and she'd have to do something right quick to start correcting that oversight. But, not right now. Right now, Samantha needed to find out just what was going on. "Go on," she softly murmured.

"She said I was such a baby that you wouldn't trust me with anything important. That you couldn't count on me for anything, specially not something important like a secret or anything," Courtney continued, her tone both miserable and fierce. Slowly, gradually, all the while wishing the ground would just open up and swallow her forever, Courtney explained what had happened. How she had, in a fit of anger, showed Sasha the hidden recess. How Sasha had threatened to tell on her, blackmailing her to keep Courtney silent.

How Sasha had figured out the lock combination.

That Sasha had been, all week long, exploring inside.

How she'd gone down that morning, right after Mom had left, imperiously commanding Courtney, ordering her around, calling her 'twerp', telling her to get lost and leave her alone. Just as she had been ever since she'd arrived.

Samantha was shocked at the confession and explanation. Angry and coldly furious, too. The damned child had gotten inside the playroom? Been exploring inside all week long? Damn! There wasn't any way of mistaking what her playroom was used for, and far too many things in there, well, definitely weren't for a child to see. How she was going to explain this screw up to her sister-who needed this additional worry and concern like she needed fifteen extra holes in her head-wasn't something Samantha wanted to contemplate.

Sasha had gone too far, that was for sure. Not that her behavior absolved Courtney's behavior any!

"Mom, I'm really sorry," Courtney miserably whispered. And she was, too, Samantha could tell. And sorry in the only way that really mattered; not sorry that she got caught , but sorry that she'd acted irresponsibly, sorry that she broke a rule and a promise. "I . . . I deserve to be punished, and I won't argue about anything you decide."

Good thing, that. Because arguing never did accomplish anything. But, still, it did only serve to prove just how awful, how guilty, Courtney really did feel. "I know you're sorry baby," Samantha murmured. "And you're right. You do deserve to be punished, and you will be. I'm not sure, yet, just what that will be, but it's going to be something."

Courtney just nodded, so miserable and hurting inside she really didn't care what that was, as long as Mom would, at some point, forgive her for her messing up so badly.

"I really did try with Sasha Mom. I mean, I really, really did ! But . . . she's changed Mom! A lot! She's nothing but a spoiled, mean bully now. I've tried to be nice, gave in and did things she wanted to do. Everything. But, it's like she's cold and mad and spoiled and . . . I dunno," she finally trailed off, shrugging. "I hate how she is now. I wish she was like the Sasha of old. My friend !"

"I know baby, I know," Samantha whispered, softly kissing her daughter's cheek before rooting in her purse and handing Courtney several tissues. While she blotted eyes and cheeks dry and blew her small nose Samantha considered things. Maybe she had been too soft on the girl. Granted, she'd only taken so much from her herself, cracking down after that first day. She'd thought that had done the trick, as Sasha had seemed to settle down. Which, she supposed, she had . . . with Samantha .

But, obviously, not with Courtney . Instead, it appeared as if Sasha had merely redirected her brattiness onto Courtney, in a cunning, devious way. And that angered Samantha as much as it did discovering just where the little scoundrel was at this very moment.

Giving Courtney a hug Samantha quietly said, "Go to your room for now Courtney, and wait for me there."

Nodding, Courtney whispered, "Yes Ma'am," then meekly, without any fuss at all, slipped off her lap and padded forlornly and miserably upstairs without a single backwards glance. Samantha then rose, dusted off her hands and, with her jaw set and clenched, marched down the steps to the basement. When she got her hands on that child, she was going to be a very sorry little girl indeed!

Thick, wavy, shoulder-blade length tresses, their rich auburn color looking deeper with dampness, stuck and clung to her sweaty back, small shoulders and face. It itched, but there was nothing she could do about that, other then try rubbing her cheeks against her shoulders. And, right now, she was too tired to do even that, simply hanging there by her small wrists, trying not to moan with discomfort.

Perspiration trickled down her skin, itching, too. And again there wasn't a blessed thing she could do about that. Or about the growing ache in her shoulders, or the way slender, bare, lithe legs were trembling with fatigue and exhaustion.

She'd almost, almost gotten one of the rings to flick off a connector, but that had been some time ago. Right now, there was no way she had the energy to try again for a while. She needed to rest and recover and, unfortunately, her position in no way encouraged either. When her legs grew too tired to keep her supported on the balls of her small bare feet so that her wrists and arms could rest, her weight then settled fully onto her arms and wrists, tiring them and making them ache all the more. And, the more tired they grew, the harder and harder it became to struggle, to try and flip at least one ring free.

Sasha was in deep doo-doo, and she knew it. No doubt about it. It was so frustrating , too! Like a tease! She'd been so close, so close! to getting those cuffs free. It wasn't like they were clipped shut like her ankle ones were, after all. And that closeness to escape was an awful torment. In fact, it had made her struggle all the more furious, she thought, knowing that she could somehow get loose if she tried hard enough, rather then knowing for sure that she couldn't !

Oh, she'd get loose at some point. She knew that. Had to believe it. It would just be too silly and stupid for her to get stuck, after all. Well, not to mention mortifying, embarrassing and humiliating . . . which she mightily refused to contemplate. She'd just have to be more careful next time, that's all.

Now that she'd stopped struggling, now that she'd convinced herself that she would , in fact, get free, those tingling feelings were slowly coming back. Not as quickly, not as intensely as before, no. No surprise there, she thought, not as achy and uncomfortable as she was. But, still, they were coming back. At least, now she had a really better idea what it was like to really be captured and helpless, she thought with a wry, exhausted grin, trying to find something light about her predicament.

If only that stinky ankle pole thing hadn't messed up, today would have been perfect! she mentally groused. Everything had gone just perfect up to then!

Sasha groaned again, reflexively shivering hearing, once more, how muffled that sounded due to the gag, as her shoulders and arms quivered anew with strain. Thankfully the wrist cuffs seemed wide enough not to actually dig into the skin, which was a good thing considering her full weight was on her wrists at the moment. She'd just rest a moment, that's all, she thought as she closed her eyes and rolled her head forwards. Just rest a bit before trying again. And, this time, she'd get loose for sure!

She didn't actually doze; it was too uncomfortable for that. But, it did take a few moments to filter through her exhausted mind that she'd heard something. The first sound, really, she'd ever heard when down here, unless she'd made it herself. Sasha lifted her head back upright then tossed it, flipping her hair from off her face . . . then froze.

Implacably marching her way towards her was Aunt Samantha!

Sasha felt her blood freeze, turn to ice. She whimpered, huge enormous grass-green eyes flicked all around as if seeking some miraculous avenue of escape. But there was nothing she could do, nothing at all. Just stand there, horribly exposed, helpless to move or anything. Even try and make an excuse!

Samantha's expression didn't help any, either. A cold, stern, furious expression that made her whimper again. Somehow she didn't think she was gonna wriggle out of this! But, even so, her mind started rapidly whirring, trying to come up with a believable excuse . . . assuming she'd ever be able to talk and use it!

And Samantha was furious, no doubt about it, glaring at the child as she stalked over towards her, stopping at last mere feet in front of her, deep blue orbs cold as a glacier, furnace-hot as molten glass glancing at the discarded clothing, the table with the items. Everywhere, it seemed, but at the errant child immediately before her.

Sasha visibly shivered as Samantha simply dropped her sandals atop the pile of clothes on the floor. Gulping she looked up, seeing the door at the far end now firmly closed. Then gave a visible swallow seeing her Aunt gazing at the table again, a fingertip stroking along some of the items . . . including that embarrassing gag Sasha had put there!

Sasha paled, skin turning almost translucent, tiny gold freckles standing out in stark relief as her Aunt finally looked up, right into her eyes and (seemingly) mildly, idly said, "Enjoying yourself, hmmm?"

"Nnnnnh hhhhhh!" Sasha shook her head, denying that she was, beseeching and imploring with her huge eyes for release.

"Really?" Samantha returned. "How . . . odd. Considering that you've been coming down here every day for a week. If you're not enjoying yourself, what are you, then? A glutton for punishment?" she said, a fingertip stroking along the leather strap on the table.

Sasha groaned, then furiously blushed at hearing that odd muffled noise. 'Busted!'she thought. 'In a big way!'

Make no mistake about it, Samantha was angry. Coldly furious. There would be no excusing this misadventure, oh no! But, justifiably incensed or not, she couldn't help but also objectively, clinically, appraise the situation either.

Or, more properly, the disobedient child herself.

Glittering cool deep blue orbs slowly drifted from head to toe, missing not a thing. Most certainly she didn't miss how the bikini bottoms, in front, were now soaked, the fabric a dark midnight blue rather then the pale blue of the rest of the swimsuit.

Nor, did it seem, did Sasha miss that deep examination of her helpless body so prominently displayed. For her pale, alabaster skin slowly flushed, turning a soft rose all the way down to her toes. Then moaned in dismay, ducking her head, tiny toes tightly curling and wriggling as her Aunt mildly said, "Sure seems as if you were enjoying yourself."

'She knows !'sasha mentally groaned in mortification. 'She saw !'

And indeed she did, and had. Samantha continued her examination, discerning how the child had been secured as well as Sasha herself. She silently snorted, seeing the pole the girl had used. 'No wonder she's stuck,'samantha thought. The adjustment sleeve of that pole used to have three workable settings: fully slideable, fully locked, and slide-open only. But the sleeve had broken some time ago, and even when in the 'fully locked' position would slip into the 'slide-open' one. Samantha had never bothered to have that fixed, as she never really used the locked position. Of course, poor little Sasha hadn't known that.

Sasha moaned again, feeling the strain and ache in her little arms and legs. "Ppffhh lllhhttt mmhhh ddhhnn!" Then huge eyes grew even rounder, little stretched out body trembled more as Samantha just ignored her, didn't even seem to acknowledge hearing her! Instead, she simply, very slowly, walked around her as she hung there. Sasha flushed even more, feeling very helpless and exposed, very much on display, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

Samantha noted the clever way Sasha had fixed the wrist cuffs to the upper pole, nodding to herself as she saw the taped open connectors. Obviously she'd been taken by surprise by the ankle pole slipping open, for as taut as she currently was there was no way she could have gotten the cuffs attached.

"So, you like being tied up, hmmm?" she asked from behind the girl. There was a frantic headshaking of denial accompanied by muffled negation too. Samantha said nothing, simply walked over to a nearby dresser and removed two sturdy clips. Sasha's eyes grew wide at that. She struggled anew, rapid muffled plaints as she helplessly watched her Aunt affix them to the cuffs and pole.

Firmly, inescapably securing her now. No way to wriggle the cuffs free!

Standing in front of the child again Samantha gazed at her with a firm stern mien, folding her arms across her chest. "You're in a great deal of trouble little miss," she grimly said. "I'm sure you're aware of that, though, aren't you?"

Sasha just cringed and whimpered, wanting to just fall right through the floor into a bottomless pit. Sharing, although she didn't know it, the same feeling her cousin did just a short while ago. Enormous green eyes flickered up to the new clips holding her small wrists fast then back to her Aunt, wide, nervous, apprehensive-and, yes, a touch of fear-orbs looking at her, wondering what that meant.

The barest corner of Samantha's lip curved. "You aren't properly tied up unless you can't get free. Don't you agree?"

Sasha gulped again, feeling her tummy flutter. She softly whimpered, the sound muted almost into silence. Small fingers tightened into fists, tiny toes tightly clenched. Her little, stretched-out body shivered and trembled.

Samantha was no stranger to youthful daydreams and fantasies. After all, she'd had them as a child. Experienced eyes took in the tableau before her, particularly the items on the table. Which, obviously enough, weren't exactly needed for the actual securing so, most likely, were there as, well, 'window dressing'. To make the daydream more exciting for the child.

She was still furious with her niece, for several reasons. The bullying of her daughter, the lies and deceits, the breaking into her private room. But, anger notwithstanding, she was more then mildly curious about just how deep Sasha was into things. Being an experienced Mistress, she supposed that just came naturally to her, the desire to appraise and explore another's desires.

There were certain 'stock' fantasies. Those that were shared by the majority of people. So Samantha started testing the waters, as it were, with those. "So," she seemingly idly asked, "Now that I have you captured and helpless, I wonder what I should do next, hmm?" as she picked up the riding crop and caressed it length.

'My my my!'she thought, noting Sasha's reaction. The child's eyes flew wide open, staring at Samantha in wide-eyed horror, dread and stunned shock. She literally jerked in the cuffs, moaned and flushed, then rapidly started shaking her head as she twisted and squirmed, as if by doing so able to change what was happening.

That, however, was not all that happened. Samantha was quick to notice the twin points that abruptly tented against the swimsuit top. The child's blush deepened further, turned hotter as she noticed just where her Aunt was gazing. What she was gazing at . But she was incapable of stopping that reaction and, indeed, they simply puckered all the tighter at her embarrassment at that.

Oh yes, this went beyond mere childish fascination and fun, Samantha thought. This is actually arousing to her. Stimulating.

Which made her eminently trainable , in fact.

That thought just popped out of nowhere, it seemed, taking Samantha quite by surprise. She grew deeply thoughtful, an expression that only made Sasha feel more nervous. Objectively, it didn't bother her that this was her niece. Samantha had no difficulty with the concept of teaching or explaining such things as bondage, submission or the like with either her daughter or her niece. How else would they, should they become curious, safely satisfy that curiosity? Have their questions answered? Better that she answer them, then risk them finding out the wrong answers. Worse, at the hands of evil people who meant them no good.

So, no, Samantha had no real objections, no problems, with speaking to either of them about matters. At the proper time, that is.

However, Sasha was only eleven. Extremely young, by any standard, no matter that it was clearly obvious by the gentle swells concealed beneath the bikini top that she was maturing.

Maturing into a misbehaving brat, too, she abruptly recalled, remembering, pensive eyes suddenly hardening again.

Poor Sasha had no idea what was going on, what was going to happen. She'd thought . . . hoped, prayed . . . that her Aunt would release her and, no matter how embarrassed she was at being caught, no matter how nervous and scared she was of whatever punishment was likely to be meted out, at least she'd be let down from this!

But, instead of being freed, her Aunt had clipped her cuffs so she couldn't ever get loose on her own!

And then had said what she had, which made that soft little tingle in her tummy (that had started to rapidly disappear once she'd been caught) suddenly, abruptly, furiously grow again. She swallowed hard, well aware that Samantha still held that riding crop, tensing already, wondering if she was gonna spank her with it!

Her face and chest felt on fire as her Aunt had looked at her little breasts. Sasha didn't have to look down herself to know what she had to be looking at, and the embarrassment of knowing she was brazenly showing off those peaks only made the tingles worse and, she was sure, made them look even harder too!

And then she really moaned in mortified dismay as a sudden thought hit her. This was worse, far worse, then simply being caught. This was Aunt Samantha's place, after all. And all these things were her's . She must know how all of them were used.

And why they were used. Why they made girls feel the way they did when they were used.

Which meant she had to know how Sasha felt! Not guess, but know!

Aunt Samantha would know (even if Sasha didn't!) what pointy hard nipples meant for a girl. Would know what a juicy cootchie meant! Sasha couldn't hide either of them from Samantha, certainly not the way she was forced to stand like this!

It was all horribly embarrassing, but there was nothing Sasha could do about her predicament. And she had no one to blame for this but herself!

Aunt Samantha continued just gazing at her, making Sasha feel rather like a bug in a jar. She just wanted to run; to hide; to shrink away; to vanish and disappear from that intense scrutiny. But, of course, she couldn't do any of that. All she could do was just stand there, exposed and unable to hide or escape in any way. Nor, for that matter, could she try making an excuse or, as she had been doing lately, bluster, bluff or have histrionics.

Had Sasha any real clue what thoughts were going through her Aunt's mind at that moment, she would have quailed quite a bit more then she actually was doing. As far as Samantha was concerned, the child well and truly deserved punishment for her disobedience and misbehavior. However, punishment would only take care of the immediate 'crimes' . . . of which, granted, she'd racked up quite a few. There was still the problem of what to do about the inherent cause of that conduct. Changing that wasn't going to be a simple matter of laying the well-deserved hammer down this once. No. No, to change her niece's conduct and behavior was a matter of discipline, and not just punishment.

Samantha continued intently gazing at Sasha, glittering deep blue orbs quite pensive and thoughtful, as the child helplessly stood there before her. There were, of course, quite a few ways in which a regiment of firm discipline could be introduced. However, now that Sasha had discovered the playroom and Samantha had, in turn, discovered Sasha's reactions to certain things because of that, an entirely new set of options had opened up.

There was, after all, far more to D/s then just sex. Or even just control. It was, in many ways, at its most basic level, a matter of discipline . For both the Mistress and the slave. And discipline was certainly what this little bratty rascal needed.

Samantha didn't know how long Sasha had been changing. To the best of her recollection it had to have been within the year - she hadn't been like this last summer, anyway - and goodness knew she'd gone through a lot during the last twelve months. Plus, if she was hitting puberty early, that was adding additional complications to her behavior, the physical changes and emotional upheavals unsettling enough to a child in a stable environment. So, simply correcting her as she'd always been before in the past, requiring her to 'toe the line', might not be sufficient in and of itself. Very likely the child needed, well, quite the 'wake up call' .

Enormous emerald orbs, wide with consternation, apprehension and embarrassment dropped down, Sasha watching as Samantha squatted, crouching down at her wide-spread small cuffed feet. "I' m going to adjust your feet closer together," Samantha said, never looking up or meeting the girl's staring eyes. "This time. If you move them apart again, you'll just have to deal with the result." Twisting the knurled sleeve to the free-sliding position Samantha then moved the pole inwards until Sasha's small feet were just a little closer together then shoulder width. Although she heard the sigh of relief she acted as if she hadn't.

She then set the adjustment sleeve back to the 'slide-open only' position before straightening back up. Gazing deeply into Sasha's eyes she said, "I' m going to take this off, for now," as she lightly tapped with a forefingertip the tape firmly sealed over small lips. And again she acted as if she didn't notice - or deigned not to notice - the deep gusty sigh of relief and hope as she said that. Samantha carefully pried up the ends with a tapered nail before gently peeling them back and off, simply wadding them into a ball before laying that on the tabletop along with the other items there.

"Quite a large ball you chose to use," she noted, struggling to keep her lips from twitching at the abrupt crimson tide flooding her skin at that. "I'll have to remember, next time, you can handle ones that size," she added, and this time the child paled and nervously trembled.

'Next time?' Sasha fretted, trying not to groan in dismay. 'What does she mean, next time?' even as she held her head very still, little chin lifted upwards, doing whatever she could to make it easier for her Aunt to remove the tape and ball. She winced a little as the tape was peeled back, even as she felt her Aunt trying to be gentle doing so, quite grateful that she didn't just yank the pieces off like she easily could have done. Once the last piece was off she urgently tried pushing the sponge ball out with her little tongue but, as the ball had expanded once inside, it wasn't moving much at all.

"Mmppfh? Ppffhh?" she whined, jiggling her chin, impatiently wanting that ball out, and now! Aunt Samantha didn't bother hurrying or anything, just took her sweet time rolling up the tape pieces first. At last! she started working the ball out and Sasha helped as best she could, pushing along with her small tongue as Samantha carefully drew the spongy sphere out.

"Phaw! Ick!" Sasha worked her small, aching jaws, trying to work the kinks out. Hotly blushed too, for, as the now-sodden ball was withdrawn a great deal of puddled saliva came along with it, trickling down her little chin. Samantha ignored the soaked sponge ball, just sat it down on the table next to the balled up tape before folding her arms across her chest again and fixing the girl with a stern, focused gaze.

"You have some explaining to do, I think, little girl," she sternly said.

"It . . . it wasn't my fault!" Sasha blurted, saying the first (reasonably believable) excuse that popped into her head. "Honest! Courtney dared me! Dared me to come in and play in here. Then, after she had me like this she just left! Said she'd be back in a couple of hours . . . to . . . let . . . me . . . "

Her hasty explanation tapered off into a deathly silence, she swallowed hard, turning pale as ice at the snapping, furious, fiery anger in her Aunt's eyes. It was far too late to take her words back, she realized with growing fearful dread. And that was the absolutely wrong excuse to use. Normally of late she'd simply defiantly bluff her way through an awful situation like this, even with her Aunt. But, this time . . .

Sasha actually whimpered, cringing back from that glare. She hated herself for whimpering, for feeling like she did, but she couldn't help herself. Not when she was still firmly secured as she was, immobile and helpless. Somehow, in a way she didn't fathom or understand, that seemed to break down, to breach, every defiant, bold, mutinous wall inside her.

Sasha expected to be yelled at. Harshly scolded. Called out, branded a liar. Something . But, what was happening felt far, far worse, for her Aunt just kept looking at her with that awful furious, scornful glare. Her disdain for Sasha literally pulsed out in palpable waves, making Sasha feel smaller, more ashamed of herself, then she had in a very long time.

And then, she just turned away. Started walking off, leaving her there.

"Aunt S-s-s-samantha?" she stuttered. "W-w-wha . . . what are you d-d-d-doing? You' re not g-g-g-gonna leave me, are y-y-you? Aunt Samantha? Aunt Samantha!"

Her Aunt just kept walking, paying her no mind or heed. "Aunt Samantha! Lemme down! I wanna get off this! Lemme down!" Sasha's voice changed from soft pleadings to strident demands but she might as well have kept quiet, for nothing she said or did made a difference. She started jerking, tugging, yanking at the cuffs, twisting and turning to no avail. All she could do was helplessly watch as her Aunt opened the door, walked out, then firmly closed it behind, sealing her inside the room, still helplessly secured and unable to get free.

The seeds of an idea was beginning to germinate in Samantha's mind and she needed a bit of time to deliberate on it. Ignoring the pleads and then indignant squawks and demands of her niece she closed the main playroom door behind her, reflexively spinning the wheel and shooting the securing bolts home before re-entering the basement proper and closing that door as well. Her deeply thoughtful look remained as she slowly paced upstairs to speak with her daughter. Opening the bedroom door she started, "Courtney, baby, I'd like to . . . "

Her words tapered off as she saw her daughter. Sitting on the edge of her bed, cutoffs and panties removed and neatly folded, laying at the one end of the mattress. At her side was her sturdy maple hairbrush. Courtney glanced up at her Mom as she entered, a truly woebegone, miserable expression on her face, eyes puffy and red from crying, little pert nose pink, before lowering her gaze again to stare at her folded tiny hands on her bare lap.

Samantha's heart melted. Without being told Courtney had (understandably so) assumed being sent to her room was the precursor to her being punished. And had obviously assumed that her misdeeds had been serious enough to justify a bare-bottom hairbrush paddling. So, without a complaint, without any tearful pleadings, she'd simply gotten ready for just that.

Sasha very rarely hairbrushed her daughter. Especially on the bare. In fact, it was unusual for her even to spank Courtney; well, unusual once she'd grow enough to become more responsible, mature enough that other forms of punishment were effective as discipline. Still, 'unusual' was not the same as 'not at all' and, on those rare occasions when Courtney truly deserved and earned a bare bottom paddling, she'd gotten one. No ifs, and or buts . . . other then her butt, of course.

Truth be told, what she'd done did deserve a paddling. Not so much for breaking her promise by showing her cousin what she had, but for the deceit that followed. Considering the degree of provocation - and Samantha was slowly growing to understand she'd seriously underestimated how severely things had degenerated between those two - Samantha most likely would have firmly scolded Courtney, and perhaps grounded her for a week along with extra chores, had her daughter come to her right afterwards and confessed.

But, by hiding what she'd done, and compounding that by saying nothing at all about Sasha's unauthorized excursions, she'd grossly compounded her original error. Courtney was quite perceptive in deciding she had a bare-bottom hairbrushing coming. At the very least!

But . . . not at the moment.

Samantha sat down next to her daughter and patted her lap. Like a streak of lightning, before she could blink, the tiny child was perched atop, little arms fastened around her torso like an octopus, clutching tightly. Samantha cuddled her daughter for a while, gently rocking back and forth as she made wordless, crooning soothing sounds. Courtney was more then a bit surprised. Not at being cuddled like this; she always was . . . after her spankings. Just not before one!

"I' m sorry I didn't listen, pay closer attention to you, before, baby," Samantha softly murmured. "I should have, and I didn't, and I' m sorry."

Courtney nodded against her chest and mumbled, "It's OK Mom." And it really was, too. Courtney never doubted how much her Mom loved her. Never doubted how hard her Mom tried to be fair, just and understanding. But, she was old enough now to also understand her Mom was human, too and, just like Courtney, could make mistakes at times. Any misunderstanding about things wasn't because her Mom didn't care, but were true accidental oversights.

"Sasha has changed baby. You were right about that. I just didn't see how deep those changes had gone," Samantha explained.

"Did you find her?" Courtney asked.

Samantha nodded. "Ummm . . . yes. I did. And that's something I want to talk to you about, too."

Courtney peeked up at her Mom at that, huge sea gray eyes peeping up through long, thick, feathery, very pale sooty-tipped lashes. "Sasha needs help baby," Samantha continued. "She's had a rough time, it seems, this last year. I think, with all that's been going on at home, she's felt neglected. Lost. Confused. And that's coming out with her being rebellious and misbehaving." Samantha gave a little shrug. "That's understandable, but, it isn't acceptable . I wouldn't accept that with you , and I certainly won't accept that with her . Nor will I send her back to Aunt Ruth the same way."

Courtney perked up at that. It seemed as if Sasha would finally be getting what she deserved, at long last! Which was good, as far as she was concerned. But, what was confusing her was what part she was expected to play in this. She sure hoped it wasn't to be nice and kind and understanding to her cousin. She'd already been doing that and had a tummyful of doing so!

"Where is Sasha?" she finally asked, wondering (actually, hoping !) if Mom had already blistered her butt.

Samantha didn't answer right away, a thoughtful look on her face. "That's both a simple and a complicated answer baby," she finally replied. "And, because I'll be wanting your help with Sasha, and I hope you'll be willing to help me, I' ve got quite a bit to tell you first. To begin with, let me tell you about where she is, and why that is down there . . . "

Sasha was not, in some ways, a happy camper. Granted, that awful ball was no longer in her mouth, and her small jaws were finally no longer aching. And, true, the strain on her slender little arms and legs were a whole lot less. But she was still stuck here and, now that her Aunt had fastened those other clips to the wrist cuffs, she'd no way at all of getting down. Which didn't stop her from trying , anyway.

She didn't know how much longer she'd have to stand here, either. It had been quite a while, and she was more then ready to be let down. No matter what Aunt Samantha had implied, Sasha, by now, had reasoned out that she'd just been trying to put a scare into her. Well, she was way too grown up for that to work! Maybe at the time she'd been scared. A little. But, now that she'd had some time to think on things, there was no way her Aunt would really leave her like this all day long.

It wasn't as exciting right now as it had been. Part of that was knowing she'd been busted, that her Aunt knew she was down here, held like this. It was kinda hard to daydream, and enjoy those daydreams, when reality was rudely intruding. The only confusing thing, though, was that, while it wasn't as exciting as before, it still was, now and then, making her tummy feel funny inside.

It was way different daydreaming being captured by a shadowy, vague, faceless figure, and of being found out by her own Aunt , after all! In some ways, it was even more embarrassing being like this with her Aunt, then some unknown 'person' . And that didn't even take into account what she was likely to face after all this was over, either!

In many ways her Mom and her Aunt Samantha were alike. And one of those ways was their ideas on how to raise children. Firm yet just, loving yet constant. Rules were set, limits were defined, lines were drawn, and held to. Not out of meanness (although at times it sure seemed that way!) but, instead, out of love. Sasha could understand that, now, at an instinctive level. Until she was much older, maturer, of course, she'd never really understand. No child could. Not on the conscious, aware plane an adult could and would. And as much as she might grouse and complain about rules she thought were silly and stifling, she'd always, before, obeyed them.

But, not now. And, not for a long while now. Why should she, when her parents were too concerned about themselves to pay any heed to her? On one level Sasha knew that was being selfish, unkind and thoughtless. She knew her parents had still loved her, still cared. But they'd always been her bedrock, and discovering that solid foundation was nothing but crumbling sand had been terribly traumatizing. She didn't dare act up around her Dad, not with him so suddenly turning as hostile and violent as he had (and oh, how awful and terribly guilty she'd felt when he died, as if she'd been solely responsible for that!). She had , however, done so around her Mom.

Little things at first, then increasingly so, as her Mom seemed oblivious to the smaller infractions. And, towards the end, even big things didn't result in anything meaningful in return, just scolds and yells that Sasha had returned with equal vigor, with blazing hot defiance. More and more, until her attitude became the rule rather then the exception. With everyone. Friends, teachers, everyone. And, rather then anyone putting their foot down, yanking her up short, all of them simply caved in to her. Well then, if no one else cared about any silly old damned rules, then why should she ? What Sasha didn't, and couldn't, understand was that everyone was aware of the strife and troubles in her family. Their patience and kindness were well meant, just misguided.

Even her own Aunt and goody-two-shoes little cousin were just as icky sweet and nice. Aunt Samantha might have, after the first few days, put her foot down, but she sure hadn't done it in any real, meaningful fashion. Not like she would have last year, anyways! Which all just proved rules were pretty pointless and unimportant. Why should she bother to follow them if they didn't mean crap?

Sasha was pretty positive violating the rule about this room was a biggie, especially considering what was in here. And Aunt Samantha sure didn't look all that pleased at her lame excuse, especially when she'd stupidly tried sharing the blame with her twerp cousin. Small shoulders shrugged. Big deal. She'd been paddled before. She didn't like it, nope nope! But, she'd live. Heck, if she played her cards right she might not even be paddled.

Yeah. That was the ticket! Head her Aunt off at the pass. Be sniffling and teary before . Sobbing and so so sorry. She didn't really mean to act up. It's just that, well, she was hurting so bad inside, what with all that had been going on. Yeah, that was it. Heck, if she did it right, she probably wouldn't even get spanked! Nothing more then a lecture. Probably a kind, nice, caring one too, she snorted.

Of course, if her Aunt did decide to paddle her, Sasha was uncomfortably aware of the stuff on the table she'd sat there herself. Then small bare shoulders rolled in another dismissive shrug. They might be 'used' on her in her daydreams, but no way would they be used on her. Not for real, not on a kid. Well, except for that one paddle that looked like a hairbrush. But Sasha was supremely confidant she'd be able to play her Aunt like she'd been playing everyone else lately.

Dog gone it, why did her Aunt have to go and ruin everything! What the heck was she doing home this early anyway ? Sasha quietly started fuming. And if she was gonna come in and spoil her fun why the heck just leave her alone like this? The more she thought about that the more annoyed and piqued Sasha got. There was no good reason for Aunt Samantha to have come home early, and all Sasha could think of was that that twerp Courtney must have called her Mom and tattled. Boy! If she had , was Sasha ever gonna take it out on her butt for sure! She was gonna make her Aunt pay, too, for ruining her fun. She just wasn't sure how, yet, but, she promised herself she would.

Although her little arms and legs weren't aching and trembling with strain anymore from her weight or posture, they were starting to ache again, but in a different way. Sasha was discovering that a person could only stand immobile for so long, with their arms upraised, before their muscled started complaining about that. Adding to that was the fact that Sasha, much as her little cousin, was an active child, and wasn't at all used to remaining motionless like this for any length of time. Little, firm, sleekly-toned muscles used to running, playing soccer and other athletic endeavors started gently quivering again from being held in that unnatural posture and stillness. Sasha just wanted to move , darn it!

As the minutes slowly passed, Sasha's original chagrin, embarrassment, fright and humiliation at being found shifted. Now she was growing impatient, unhappy and quite upset and annoyed. When the inner door finally opened an hour later (although, to Sasha, it seemed much longer then that) she was quite ticked off at her Aunt. Just not enough to ruin her Oscar-winning performance she'd planned.

"Hey!" she abruptly blurted, jerking in the cuffs, as she saw the second, much smaller, figure pad in behind her Aunt. It was her twerp of a cousin, Courtney! Sasha turned beet-red as she saw her cousin peek out from behind her Mom from across the room to stare at her. How dare Aunt Samantha bring that baby in here with her!? Sasha was furious, and, just as bad, no little embarrassed and self-conscious at having that twerp see her like this. That also ruined her plans, for there was no way she was gonna act all crybaby-ish in front of Courtney!

Courtney, for her part, was looking around in wide-eyed wonder. It was one thing for Mom to explain all about this room and the stuff inside, and quite another to actually see it! She actually gave Sasha a passing glance (after all, it wasn't as if she was gonna be going anywhere, she thought with a silent nervous giggle) before gazing all around with huge, enormous gray eyes.

She wasn't as scared at this stuff as she would have been had Mom not patiently explained all about it, and she - reluctantly - had to give her cousin points for her own bravery. Courtney didn't think she could have, all by herself, all alone, explored in here while having no idea what was up. She still wasn't sure what people found 'fun' and 'pleasurable' about it, as it didn't seem at all fun to her. But, evidently people did . Otherwise Mom wouldn't have stuff like this down here. Nor, for that matter, would Mom have fibbed to her about that, either.

Finding out about all this was one thing. Being told that Sasha was one of those who liked it quite another. That seemed so, well . . . weird . But, again Courtney believed her Mom about that. Besides, all she had to do was look forwards and see her cousin. Even Courtney couldn't believe Sasha would do something like that to herself if it hadn't been fun for her to do so.

Besides, Mom had promised to illustrate that point to Courtney, using Sasha as an example. So, while she might not really understand the stuff down here - yet - she was really looking forward to seeing her bratty, bullying cousin taken down a peg or three. Mom had taken time upstairs, not only talking about Sasha, what she was found doing - and the reasons why - but what she had in mind, and the part Courtney could play if she wished.

Wished? Wished ?? Was Mom kidding ?! Courtney would give up her beloved horseback riding lessons, her gymnastics classes, heck, everything! to be included in her cousin's comeuppance!

Courtney knew that she'd need lots more coaching and teaching to do things right, and desperately hoped the little bit of rehearsal she'd had would be enough for now. It was hard, so terribly hard, keeping her face expressionless as they walked up closer to her squirming, hotly blushing, obviously angry and embarrassed cousin, when all she wanted to do was gawk and giggle. But Mom had stressed how important it was to look, well, not bored , just indifferent.

About halfway across to Sasha Mom nodded, whispered to her to go ahead while she got something. Courtney nodded then kept walking, tiny sneakered feet padding across the carpet, stopping once just in front of her cousin. "Get lost twerp! This is none of your business!" Sasha softly hissed, furious beyond belief. Courtney just ignored her, reveling inside at finally being able to do just that. There wasn't a single thing, after all, Sasha could do, other then impotently threaten.

Then Courtney's little jaw dropped, unable to stop gawking, as she finally really noticed the swimsuit. "Aunt Ruth said you couldn't have that!" she indignantly blurted.

"Shut up , you little tattletale!" Sasha hissed back. "And go away! Scram!"

Courtney bit her little lower lip, angry with herself for loosing control like that. But she couldn't help it, this was just one more example of how naughty, fractious and contrary Sasha had become. She was positive Aunt Ruth didn't know Sasha had that! Nor would permit her to wear it either. Of course, that went without saying, she giggled to herself. You couldn't very well wear something you weren't allowed to have.

Sasha was furious, but there wasn't much she could do. But wait, oh yes, just wait until she was let down! She'd make that little twerp pay for this! Gritting her teeth Sasha disdainfully looked away, ignoring her little cousin. She'd make her life living hell from now on, just you wait and see!

By now Samantha had found what she'd been looking for and was standing next to her daughter. "I'd thought that looked a little 'racy' for Aunt Ruth to approve of," she noted to her daughter. Courtney nodded, quite gleeful. Samantha just shrugged. "No matter; she won't be wearing it shortly."

Sasha had shuddered a bit at the iron condemnation in her Aunt's tone, then shuddered again at her words. She couldn't put her finger on anything, but she sensed something was up, she just didn't know what.

Courtney, meanwhile, was looking quite curiously at the stuff on the tabletop. Mom had explained what she'd see there, and their purpose. Her jaw had dropped at that, stunned that there had been so many different things one could use to spank with. Jeez, adults were sillier then she'd ever thought!

She'd gotten an even bigger shock when Mom had told her that, properly and carefully used, each and every one of them could, in fact, be used on her cousin. That shock had quickly disappeared, replaced instead by an eager, speculative gleam. Oh yes! Her nasty cousin was really in for it!

"Well Sasha, I see you' re still hanging around," Samantha murmured. "Very funny!" Sasha sullenly replied, yanking at the cuffs, the rings making a soft jingling sound. "Now let me down!"

Samantha just lightly shook her head. "No. No dear. I don't think so. Not for a while yet. Certainly not until I' ve explained some things to you first."

"Fine then!" Sasha huffed, tipping her head up and away, salvaging what little dignity she still possessed. She flat out refused to beg or whine in front of her baby cousin, no matter what. She persisted ignoring her Aunt as she continued. At first.

"Whatever reasons you might have for your behavior, little girl," and Sasha visibly seethed at that, "They are inexcusable. I know your mother, and I know she'd never raise you to be such a spoiled, wicked child. And I know you know better, too. However you may currently be acting up. I won't accept that from Courtney, and I sure won't accept that from you . Nor, for that matter, will I allow you to return home at the end of summer the way you are."

Sasha simply shrugged, doing her best I-don't-care-what-you-want-or-think attitude.

"Your behavior has been inexcusable. And you will be punished for that, yes. But, that's not what this little 'chat' is going to be about."

Still keeping her head turned to the side Sasha nevertheless curiously peeped at her Aunt from the corner of her eye, feeling a slowly growing unsure nervousness.

"You seem to think that you can do whatever you like, no matter what. That rules don't matter and, if and when you break them, nothing will happen. Well, little girl, you are dead wrong about that!" Samantha said in a soft, clear cold voice. "You aren't free to do just whatever pleases you. You don't have any 'rights' . Just privileges. Privileges that need to be earned, and not just assumed or taken for granted . . . as you seem to think you can do," she continued in that frosty tone. "You' ve also, I see, have forgotten another, very basic, principle: Actions beget consequences. If you think you can do whatever pleases you and not have to deal with the resulting consequences, you are very much in error, little miss."

'Oh great, another boring lecture!' Sasha groaned to herself. Then her blood chilled as her Aunt continued.

"Since you' ve taken it upon yourself to go exploring down here," and Aunt Samantha's voice took on an odd, velvety tone that in no way concealed the iron beneath, "I see no reason not to utilize this room, and all that it means, in correcting you."

At that Sasha's head snapped around, looking at her Aunt with nervous, enormous, slowly-growing fearful eyes. "Wha . . . what do you mean?" she faltered.

Samantha's eyes narrowed, while Courtney's sharpened, gazing very closely at her cousin just as Mom had said to do. "Exactly what I said, little girl. You' ve taken privileges for granted. Abused them. Well, as of now, you have none. Not one. Including those you' ve always taken for granted. Like food, water, a bed. Clothes."

Sasha's eyes widened to saucers, she started nervously shifting, dancing back and forth on her small, bare, cuffed feet. They grew even rounder when her Aunt brought her hands out from behind her back and Sasha saw what she held in one.

Bright, silver-shiny metal. An open band of one. Sasha convulsively swallowed, huge green eyes dropping down to that then back up to her Aunt's. That couldn't be what she thought it was! Could it?

There was the barest hint of a knowing smile on her Aunt's face at Sasha's stunned expression. "I see you have an idea what this is, hmmm?' she almost purred.

Again Sasha swallowed. Having spent an entire week exploring, it would have been nigh impossible not to have found collars down here. And that wasn't even counting the magazines she'd looked at and read through! And, while she might not be at all clear about the difference between the terms 'submissive' and 'slave' , quite a bit of what she'd seen and read clearly indicated that most collars, unlike everything else down here, meant something very specific in addition to having a purpose. Wearing a collar was a sign that someone was a slave!

Aunt Samantha couldn't mean what Sasha thought she did! Could she?

Samantha's expression never changed, but Courtney's sure did! Her small jaw dropped a little, dusky eyes widened as she saw one of the signs Mom had told her to watch out for. Beneath the covering triangles of Sasha's top (and Courtney was more then a little envious of Sasha for actually having breasts, tiny though they might be) Courtney could visibly see the small, soft puffy nipples abruptly stiffen; pucker and tighten until pressing proudly against the fabric. Oh my!

Courtney couldn't smother her gleeful smirk at that, a grin that grew even wider when Sasha, noticing her cousin's stare, realized what she was staring at, and why. Sasha furiously blushed, instinctively sought to cover her chest with her arms and couldn't, then blushed even brighter at the audible jingle of the rings and the visible jerk of her cuffed and held arms.

As far as Samantha was concerned, that was just another 'test' that needed to be passed before she'd truly contemplate continuing further. Plain as day Sasha had some inkling what a collar meant, and just as clear was how her subconscious felt about that.

Sasha nervously licked her lips, feeling terribly out of control. She couldn't seem to tear her wide eyes away from that polished band of steel, and her Aunt helpfully lifted her hand, holding it clearly before her face. Sasha hadn't seen this particular one before and she gently shivered as she got a very close look at it. It was very polished, literally gleaming in the lights. Perhaps an inch wide, as thick as a floppy disk, with a riveted hinge in the middle. It was currently open and, where the two open ends were exposed, Sasha could see what looked like a vending machine style of lock at one end. The kind of lock that used a circular key rather then a long flat one like for a door or car lock. She swallowed again, quite audibly. If that thing was put around her neck it wasn't coming off unless and until someone - most likely her Aunt - unlocked it. Sasha sure didn't see any way she could pick it open. Even if she knew how to pick a lock!

Tiny bare toes clenched. Her tummy got that achy tingly throb again. Surely Aunt Samantha didn't mean what Sasha thought she did!

"Since you' ve shown you can't be trusted with even the most basic of privileges, you now have none ," her Aunt declared in a voice of doom, repeating her earlier statement. "You' re no longer our guest. My niece, or Courtney's cousin, either," she stated.

"Wha . . . what do you mean?" Sasha asked in a wavering voice.

Samantha jiggled the collar, the highlights dancing on the smooth polished surface. "I think you know exactly what I mean. Don't you . . . little slave ?" she literally purred.

Rings jingled again as Sasha's full weight hit the wrist cuffs, little knees giving out on her. She looked as if she'd been punched in the gut, and it felt just as if she'd been, too. She struggled back upright, looked wildly around as if desperately seeking escape, huge green eyes like rounded saucers. Her smooth skin alternately paled to marble then flushed a hot glowing scarlet, again and again. 'This can't be happening!' she wildly thought. 'She . . . she can't be serious ! She can't get away with this!'

But . . . she could , Sasha abruptly realized. Get away with it, that is. It wasn't as if anyone could hear her down here, after all. Even if there were a crowd of people in the outside basement, Sasha could scream her head off, holler her lungs out, and no one would ever hear her. Nor, considering how impossible it was to even find the door panel, would anyone ever accidentally stumble across her down here. No one would miss her, no one was expecting to see or hear from her. Not even Mom, Sasha remembered. In fact, Sasha had made a point of telling her Mom outright that she didn't care to talk to her on the phone, or write letters, or anything at all. And Aunt Samantha had decided that her Mom needed the rest anyway, and had told her not to worry, that she'd call if anything happened.

Sasha gulped again.

Meanwhile Samantha just watched, observing in silence, very aware of the fleeting expressions that flickered across her niece's face. Watching as the reality of the situation came crashing down. Sasha stared at her with wide, pleading, imploring eyes, rapidly shaking her head with tiny jerking motions. Yet still those twin hard peaks were proudly poking against the swimsuit.

Samantha ignored the pleading looks, the headshakes of negation and denial. Not out of cruelty or malice, but for two major reasons. One, of course, was that the child was, very badly, in need of correction and discipline. No mistake about that and, no matter what form that ultimately took, it would, with the implacability of an avalanche, happen. The second was no less pragmatic: Sasha's subconscious desires were to be captured and forced. To be a helpless captive. Not one that willingly, happily, eagerly volunteered to 'go along with the flow'.

"You . . . you can't do this!" she finally wailed, still twisting back and forth as she stood there. Aunt Samantha said nothing, just lifted up one brow in a very clear 'Oh? I can't ?' expression. Sasha looked left, right, up down, anywhere but at her Aunt or cousin. Quite obviously she could , after all, and Sasha knew that. Just as obvious was that Sasha really didn't have any options. She couldn't move, run, or anything else. Then again, she didn't have to go along with this, either, no matter what her Aunt thought.

Still not meeting her Aunt's eyes Sasha defiantly huffed, "Fine then. See if that matters. You can try to do whatever you want do. Doesn't make any difference to me what you think or say. I' m not going to go along with this stupid idea of yours. I' m not a little kid yanno. To play silly games like that."

Her stomach dropped down right into her tummy as Aunt Samantha just softly chuckled, and not a kindly one at that. "Oh, you poor, silly little slave!" she said with a smile. "You are so wrong, and on so many levels, too!" Then her voice changed, sharpened to a blade of sub-zero ice as her fingers firmly grasped Sasha's small chin, forcing the child to meet her snapping, glittering cold eyes. "For one, this isn't a game," she grimly murmured in a firm, no-nonsense voice. "And it really doesn't matter to me at all if you chose to 'go along' or not. You no longer have any choice in that. Or in anything else. The only single, remaining choice left to you is this: you either simply will obey, immediately and without hesitation or fault. Or not. I warn you now, however, be prepared to accept the consequences of your failure to obey. Because, little slave , there will be consequences."

Sasha swallowed as her Aunt spoke, taken aback, rather stunned and no little frightened at her intensity, unlike anything she'd ever seen before from anyone. She started trembling, hating herself for showing that weakness, as Samantha continued.

"More to the point, little slave, is whether or not you choose to 'play along' , I' ve spent years training other slaves. I know exactly what works, and why. And you, my defiant little dear, are absolutely clueless about that, and so completely defenseless. If I truly wanted to do so, by the end of this summer I'd have you so conditioned and trained you'd truly belong to me, heart, mind, body and soul. You'd melt with just a look from me."

Considering her Aunt had significantly cut her coldly glittering eyes down to her bikini bottoms at the word 'melt' Sasha had no difficulty understanding just what she'd meant by that. Once again Sasha was reminded all this stuff belonged to her Aunt. That, without a doubt she knew exactly, just as she'd said, how all this stuff was used. How it did, and would, make Sasha feel inside.

Samantha simply nodded, seeing Sasha start trembling as that understanding hit her. "Lie to me all you want little slave. Your words say one thing, your body says something else entirely. And don't think I don't know that."

Sasha whimpered, she couldn't help it. Defiant as she was, angry, embarrassed, mortified, frightened as she was, she couldn't ignore how her tummy was, once again, tingling and throbbing almost the very same way as it had been all this week. Whenever she'd been down here, whenever she'd thought or daydreamed about down here.

And then Sasha glowed like a sunset as her Aunt leaned forwards to whisper in her ear, "Besides, little slave, you and I both know you want this. Being tied up. Being helpless. Having no choice, being made to do things. You want all of that. And more. Even the things you don't have any idea that exist. Yet . You can't get this, any of this, out of your mind. You think about it all day, dream about it all night, don't you."

That last wasn't even a question and Sasha knew it. Somehow her Aunt knew, wasn't guessing, but knew what she felt and thought, like she was reading her mind!

Courtney couldn't overhear what her Mom was saying to Sasha, but she certainly could see how her cousin was reacting! Her tremblings grew worse, the attaching rings audibly jingling as she shivered. Her normally fair skin was a bright pink all the way down to her small toes, which were wriggling and clenching. And her nipples, oh my! Courtney didn't know they could get that small and hard! They looked like pencil eraser nubs pushing out under the fabric! From what Mom had said that must mean Sasha was really excited about something!

That hadn't, and still didn't, seem exactly fair or right. That Sasha got to be excited and have fun with something that was supposed to be a punishment, but she trusted her Mom in this. Besides, even Courtney could tell that Sasha wasn't thrilled, for the most part, about what Mom had decided to do.

Samantha continued softly whispering in Sasha's little ear, scarlet with her blushes. "But, it really doesn't matter whether you do or not," which wasn't the absolute truth, and Samantha knew that, although she wasn't about to tell Sasha that. Had the child truly reacted revolted and sickened she wouldn't forge onwards as she intended. "The moment you chose to break into these rooms, you sealed your fate. You decided the very means your own punishment would take."

At that Samantha released Sasha's chin and took a step back, gazing at the girl with cool, stern glittering eyes. All Sasha could do was swallow hard, feeling every last choice taken from her. She'd known, the instant she'd decided to figure out the lock combination, that she was doing something grievously wrong. That, if she was caught, she stood to be really punished. That even if she was never caught she still was doing something very wrong. At the time that hadn't bothered her much at all, even as a distant, old part of her cried inside, remembering a time when she'd never have done something that awful. Well, now it seemed as if she was going to pay for what she'd done, and in a way she'd never, ever considered.

"Courtney," Aunt Samantha said, lowering the hand that held the collar. "Put this on her."

Sasha whimpered. "Please Aunt Samantha! Don't!" Sasha squirmed and wriggled, then squeaked as she felt her little feet abruptly slip a few inches wider. Samantha couldn't tell for sure if Sasha was pleading to have things stop, for her to change her mind, to give her another chance, or entreating not to have Courtney do the actual collaring. In either case, it made no difference to Samantha. Courtney took the collar with a gleeful grin then stepped behind her cousin.

Sasha looked wildly about, but really couldn't see behind her. "Hey! Get away from me with that thing! You hear me! I said get away!"

"Oh, just shut up slave!" Courtney chided, ignoring anything Sasha said or tried to do. Her cousin was quite a bit taller then her, eight inches in fact, so Courtney stood up on her toes to easily reach and lifted up Sasha's shoulder length, thick wavy, deep auburn tresses.

"I mean it twerp! Get away from me with that thing!" she snapped, struggling to get away, feeling the cold metal touch her skin. Then yelped, freezing as her small feet slipped further apart. Courtney just slipped the collar carefully around Sasha's neck, then pushed the ends together. Sasha moaned, hearing the click as it locked, feeling the weight around her throat. Her tummy throbbed horribly, again feeling like she'd been punched in her gut.

"There now. Collared like a slave should be," Samantha noted with a pleased smile. "And a slave is what you are now. Nothing more then property. A possession of your Owner and Mistress."

Sasha refused to react, to give in, to give either of them any satisfaction. Unfortunately for her, neither one really cared one way or the other.

"Now, listen very closely, little slave," Samantha told her. "Your lessons start right now. And you'd best pay attention, unless you want to suffer." Sasha looked away, disdainfully, defiantly, even as her heart thumped with both fear as well as some nameless sensation; a sensation that seemed directly connected between her tingly tummy and that collar locked around her throat. "You'll eat, only when your Mistress decides to feed you. And what and how she decides to feed you. That might be cold, plain oatmeal for the rest of the summer if a slave keeps being disobedient. You'll drink, only when your Mistress decides her slave needs to drink. And drink whatever a slave is given. That might just be tepid water. A slave might not like just cold oatmeal and water, but you'll live on that. And that's all a slave can expect: the bare minimum to live on. Anything more then that will be up to your Mistress and, at the very least, will need to be earned ."

Aunt Samantha was deadly serious, Sasha could tell. There was no humor, no kindness at all in her voice. Inside Sasha quailed. This wasn't, she was figuring out, going to be anything she could talk, bluster or tantrum her way out of this time. She couldn't help the trembles that shook her as her Aunt just continued on.

"A slave will sleep when her Mistress decides her slave should sleep. And don't expect a bed, either. You'll be lucky not to be caged the first month, unless you start listening up and obeying." Sasha's little jaw dropped. 'Caged ?' she thought, then paled a bit, suddenly remembering the doggie kennel cages she'd seen the day before. 'She . . . she wouldn't really make me sleep in a cage , would she?'

From the grim, determined expression on her face Sasha had the most awful, sinking feeling that, yes indeed, her Aunt would do just that.

"A slave doesn't speak unless spoken to. You'll remain quiet at all times, unless given specific permission to speak. If a slave has a question, you'll stand attentively and wait until noticed and given permission to speak." Samantha's deep blue eyes cut meaningfully to the penis gag laying out on the table, and Sasha swallowed, clearly understanding the message: if she couldn't stay quiet on her own, there were plenty of ways to keep her quiet.

"Forget about playtime and relaxation. When a slave isn't doing chores or otherwise being used, like as not she'll be kept tied up. Bound, or secured in other ways." Sasha shivered at that, unable to keep the sudden flush from flooding her body, a blush that grew hotter at the little knowing smirk on her Aunt's face.

"If a slave needs to address me, a slave will do so by calling me 'Ma' am' ," Samantha continued. Not 'Aunt Samantha' , not 'Aunt' , or anything else. Just 'Ma' am' . As in 'Yes Ma' am' or 'No Ma' am' . Understood, slave?"

Sasha numbly nodded, too overwhelmed at the moment with everything. Then jumped, squeaked as her Aunt snapped, "I said, understood slave? I don't hear nods !"

"Yes Ma' am," Sasha managed to get out, green eyes huge and enormous, more then a bit dazed, stunned, bewildered and a little frightened at what was happening.

"Good," Samantha softly replied, nodding. "Come here Courtney," she then said, and waited for her daughter to come forward again and stand at her side. This was the moment Courtney had been eagerly looking forward to since her Mom talked to her upstairs, and it was impossible not to keep that enthusiasm hidden.

"A slave also has no name, unless her Mistress chooses to give her one," Samantha softly informed Sasha. Then she glanced at Courtney. "Have you chosen a name for your slave yet Courtney?"

"Huh?!" Sasha blurted, then bit her lip as both of them glared at her, then at that gag. Aunt Samantha had to be joking! She couldn't possibly mean what Sasha thought she'd said!

"Hmmmm . . . " Courtney looked quite thoughtful, even though she'd decided almost right away what to call her new slave. She thought it would be more . . . fitting . . . to make it appear as if she was deeply thinking. Sasha just looked at her goggle-eyed, astonished and stunned, which made everything even better as far as Courtney was concerned. "Yeah!" she finally said with a huge grin. "Twerp!"

Samantha had to fight back a grin herself at that, while Sasha looked as if she'd been hit with a board at the back of her head. "Her name is 'Twerp' !" Courtney gleefully restated, cheerfully staring at Sasha as she did. Sasha opened her mouth for a retort then wisely thought better. She just impotently fumed, swearing to get even with the little jerk first chance she got.

"Very well then," Samantha said. "Twerp, this is your Mistress," she stated, motioning to her daughter. "Not your cousin, not Courtney, not anything else. You will address her as your Mistress, and obey her as such."

"You' ve got to be kidding!" Sasha blurted, outraged, trying to stamp her foot and unable to do so. "She's the twerp! She's just a little kid ! No way am I gonna listen to her! No! Hey! Wait a minute! You can't !" Her shrill, indignant voice rose higher at the end as both their expressions turned stony and grim. Courtney looked up at her Mom, who simply nodded, then Courtney picked up the hairbrush shaped paddle and stepped behind Sasha.

Samantha just stood there, arms folded across her chest, saying and doing nothing, while Sasha started dancing in place, feeling a frisson of fear race through her as Courtney stepped behind her with that paddle. "Don't you dare twerp!" she exclaimed, "Or else !"

*whack!*

The impact of the paddle echoed in the room, followed instantly by a shrill squeal from Sasha, who leaped forwards (well, as far as the restraints allowed, anyway) then danced on her toes.

*whack*

A second one followed seconds later and Sasha's eyes flew wide as she squealed and jumped. Both cheeks hotly throbbed from the paddle and tears abruptly stung and filled her eyes. "Or else, what?" Courtney said from behind her. Sasha looked imploringly at her Aunt, and visibly quailed and wilted at what she saw there.

Courtney hadn't been sure she could go through with this. She'd never paddled anyone before and, having been on the receiving end quite a few times was rather hesitant about being the giver, as it were. But Mom had said that, if Courtney agreed to be Sasha's Mistress, in total charge of her cousin, that meant punishing her when punishment was needed.

When Mom had first brought up the idea of Courtney being in charge of Sasha, well, she'd grinned so wide her face almost split in two. The thought of being able to boss Sasha around with complete impunity was indescribable. Mom had said that was only fair, after all, since Sasha had been bossing Courtney around for weeks now. And Courtney certainly didn't disagree about that , oh no! Not even when Mom had explained this would be a lot of work, a lot of responsibility, had that dissuaded or disillusioned her.

It certainly had been great fun seeing Sasha's expression when Courtney had told Sasha her new slave name. And fun watching Sasha helplessly writhe as her sentence was pronounced. It was even fun watching her expression as Courtney picked up the paddle and stepped behind her. But, when suddenly confronted with her cousin's tightly covered swimsuited bottom, Courtney's tummy gave an abrupt sickly lurch. It was one thing to think about paddling her cousin, and yet another to actually do that!

'I wonder if this is how Mom feels, when she has to paddle me?' Courtney suddenly wondered. If it was , then Courtney vowed to make sure never to give me Mom another reason to have to do that, ever again!

Courtney wondered if she'd have ever succeeded actually paddling Sasha, if Sasha had managed to keep her big mouth shut. But, as usual, Sasha hadn't , and made the grave mistake of telling Courtney she didn't dare, or else. She might as well waved a red flag in front of an already really pissed-off bull by saying that.

Gritting her small gleaming white teeth Courtney gave a hefty swing, and was startled at the sound and the reaction in Sasha at that. Somehow it never sounded that loud when she'd been the one being paddled!

Just as startling was the sensation that caused in her. Like a flood of tingling warmth in her body. At seeing Sasha jump and dance. Hearing her squeal. Seeing the tensing and flexing of her bikini-clad pert rump.

At the sensation of power and command that abruptly filled her from hair to tiny toes.

Sasha was powerless to stop Courtney. There was nothing she could do, or say, or threaten. Restrained as she was, Courtney could do whatever she pleased, and there wasn't a gosh darned thing Sasha could do about it! It didn't matter that her cousin was older, or bigger, taller or stronger. Courtney was in control! "Or else, what?" Courtney gleefully asked after that second swat - which was much easier to do, and actually fun that time! - filled with that sense of mastery and control.

Courtney waited to see what her Mom would do or say, glancing her way to make sure she hadn't smacked Sasha too hard, as she'd never paddled someone before. Mom didn't seem upset, relieving Courtney of that worry. But, now what?

Sasha finally stopped dancing and squirming, and Mom still hadn't said anything so Courtney piped up, "What's your name, slave?"

Sasha fumed. She didn't want to give her cousin the satisfaction of answering, but she also didn't want to get nailed again. That had hurt ! Not as bad, maybe, as being paddled by Mom or Aunt Samantha, but, still! It hadn't been fun, either!

"Please Courtney, don't hit me again! I' m . . . I' m sorry!" she pleaded, trying to wriggle out of things by apologizing, a tearful, quavering tone to her voice. Then squealed again, almost leaping, as two more, one right after the other, landed on her already tender rump. "Owww!" she squeaked. "Hey, stop it! No!"

This was fun! Courtney thought, hugely grinning as she landed two more on her cousin. And she didn't even have to feel guilty about it, either. Mom had been very clear about that, on both counts. One, if she wound up punishing Sasha it would only be on account of Sasha deserving it by her own actions. And, two, if Courtney decided Sasha needed punishment, then she'd have to go through with it. Otherwise, she'd be failing in her duty, obligation and responsibility as Sasha's Mistress.

Of course, Mom had also explained that, until she was confidant that Courtney understood how to properly punish, if need be, that she could only do that when Mom was there to oversee. But that hadn't bothered Courtney at all, in fact, that was very much a relief. All the more so since Courtney hadn't been sure at all she could actually punish Sasha if required.

Then again, Courtney hadn't any idea how good this would feel, either, finally paying back her mean cousin for everything she'd done to her. Nor had she taken into account - there'd been no way she could have, after all - just how thrilling having this power actually was!

Courtney waited until Sasha had stopped dancing on her toes again, waited until the inevitable sniffles eased, then asked again, "What's your name, slave?"

Sasha tearfully stared at her Aunt with imploring eyes, nothing artificial now about those glistening tears, then sniffled harder, seeing no hope there. Her Aunt just continued gazing back at her with implacable eyes. Sasha wanted to just die. She couldn't answer Courtney, she just couldn't! It would be too humiliating! But she had the most awfullest feeling that Courtney would continue smacking her until she finally did answer.

What Sasha couldn't understand, not at all, was why her tummy started tingling even worse then ever before. It wasn't just being helpless. It wasn't even the tingling heated throb of her rump. It was, somehow, being backed into a corner, no way out, faced with a choice between mortification and paddling. The smaller she felt, the worse that tingling was getting. Sasha started shuddering, trembling hard. She hadn't felt this helpless since she was real little, and the sensation was overwhelming.

And then the paddle landed again, and Sasha jumped and howled. "Twerp!" she hollered out, dignity dissolving under the repeated swats. "It's Twerp!"

At that Aunt Samantha gave a little nod, the barest of smiles. Moments later Courtney strolled around, a bright cheery grin on her face, and placed the paddle back on the table before standing next to her Mom again. They both waited for Sasha to settle down then Samantha spoke up. "Who is this?" she asked, pointing to her daughter.

Sasha visibly fumed, but knew better then to sass. "Mistress," she sullenly replied, somehow making that sound like 'dog shit' instead. Courtney brightly smiled at the answer, and Samantha simply chose to overlook the sulkiness which, after all, wasn't unexpected.

"One last thing, for now," Samantha stated. "Since you' ve shown that you can't be trusted to use proper discretion when it comes to clothing," motioning to the forbidden swimsuit Sasha was currently wearing, "And to be a constant reminder that you are, after all, only a slave, you'll no longer be permitted clothing at all."

Sasha's jaw dropped. They had to be kidding ! But, one look at their expressions and Sasha knew, beyond any doubt, that they weren't at all kidding. Not for a moment. There wasn't any way Sasha was going to strip for them, then she swallowed hard. They didn't need for her to strip, they could certainly do that to her easily enough themselves!

The images in the magazines she'd seen popped up in her head, as did the feelings in her tummy that they'd evoked. Sasha felt herself blushing, hotter then ever. Both at the image of her being stripped naked, having to remain naked, just as those women had been, and at seeing both of them staring at her chest again. Sasha didn't have to look down herself to know her nipples must be puckered and hard again, and that they must easily be able to see that themselves.

And, if they stripped her naked like they said they were going to do, they'd not only always be able to see when that happened but, far worse! notice when her cootchie got juicy, too!

Which, Sasha silently moaned in dismay, would most certainly happen if they also really meant what they said about keeping her tied up a lot!

"Courtney, she's your slave," Samantha murmured to her daughter. "Strip her."

Sasha's eyes rounded to saucers. Slender little arms jerked down, lithe bare legs tried to close; neither could move an inch. There was no way to cover herself, no way to prevent her swimsuit from being removed, and Sasha knew it. She hadn't thought it was possible to blush worse then she had been doing, but she rapidly found out she was wrong about that.

Courtney, in the meantime, was softly blushing herself. She'd known she'd be doing this at some point, and it wasn't as if she hadn't seen her cousin naked before. Up to this summer they'd taken showers together. Heck, they'd even scrubbed each others back! So why she felt nervous and shy about this she didn't really understand. Then again, she'd never undressed her cousin before. And, last year, Sasha hadn't been so tall. Or developed, either. Last year Sasha had been just as boyishly flat as Courtney still was. Still, Mom had said that this was important, too, so Courtney was determined to go through with it.

Besides, the way Sasha was glowing, she didn't seem overly thrilled herself, which just made this another way to get even with her cousin for all the misery and torment she'd put Courtney through so far.

Courtney stepped up in front of Sasha, took a moment to compose herself before looking up at her cousin - now her slave; and that was going to take some getting used to! "I'll let you choose which one first twerp. Tops or bottoms?"

That did it! Enough was enough! Sasha jerked forward, her face puce with congested, impotent fury. "Get away from me twerp! Don't you dare touch me again you jerk! I' ve had enough of this doofwad!"

Whatever else she might have wanted to add went unsaid as Courtney suddenly exploded, shocking Sasha into silence with her venom and virulence. "You' ve had enough? You' ve had enough??" she shrilled, her high-pitched voice echoing painfully in the room. "All year long I' ve waited for your visit! All school year long I' ve waited! You' re my bestest friend, like a sister to me! Or, were !!" Courtney stood there, little hands tightly fisted at her side, snarling up at a stunned Sasha. "But ever since you showed up you' ve treated me like crap! I' ve had to do your share of the chores, play your games, do what you want to do, watch what you want to watch!" she continued snapping, dusky eyes blazing with anger, "Because you were my friend ! Because I wanted to make you happy, and all you did in return was be mean and nasty to me, was bully me around! You blackmailed me into breaking my promise to my Mom, and didn't care how hurt, awful and miserable that made me! You broke into here, you broke that rule, too! I' m gonna get paddled and punished for what I did, but with everything you did, instead of getting just punished, you' re also getting what you wanted! You' re getting to have fun with your punishment! Well, I' ve had it with you!" she literally screeched, the tone strident and painful. "You really are just a twerp! Have fun with this , twerp!!" she snarled.

With that Courtney placed her small foot against the inside of Sasha's one ankle . . . then heaved. Sasha shrilly squealed as her foot went flying, the pole slipping wide. She grunted with pain as her full weight came down on her cuffed wrists. Courtney just turned and stalked away, snapping over her shoulder, "Enjoy that all day!" before storming out of the room.

Sasha scrabbled with her small feet, trying to regain her footing, and was horrified to discover that Courtney had pushed them further apart then ever before. Stretching out as far as she could, pointing her feet as much as possible Sasha could, just, barely get the tips of her toes to touch the tiles. Every ache, strain and discomfort from earlier came throbbing back as strongly as before. Panicked Sasha struggled for several moments before realizing that struggles were useless. There was no way to take the weight, the strain, off of her cuffed wrists, no way to draw her small feet back together enough to do that.

She wasn't in pain, but she was certainly in acute discomfort. "Aunt Samantha!" she tearfully cried out, "Help me!"

Her Aunt just stood there, as she had throughout most of this. "Aunt Samantha, please!" she implored. "I . . . I can't reach the floor! Ple-eease . . . get me down! Do something !"

Samantha finally spoke, her words shocking Sasha into wordless sniffled groans. "You' re your Mistress' slave Twerp," she softly said. "I don't interfere with another Mistress' slave. If she wants to leave you like that all day, then you'll remain that way all day."

Sasha just gaped at her with stunned horror. "A word of advice," Samantha coolly added. "You'd better start taking this for real Twerp, because it is. And, I assure you, both your Mistress and I are taking this for real." With that Samantha turned and started walking off.

Sasha looked up at her cuffed small wrists. Then down to her small ankles, also firmly held by cuffs, lithe bare legs quite wide apart. At tiny toes that strained to find footing on the tiles just below. She stared at her Aunt's back as she walked off.

"Please Aunt Samantha! Don't leave me like this! Come back! No! Don't!"

And then there was silence as the door was closed, save for the creaking of leather and the soft sobs of a brand new slave.