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.