Jennifer Turns Up the Heat.
The next night, I was both nervous and excited. I was afraid of giving him the impression I was perverted or something. But at the same time, I was hoping he’d like at least part of what I was going to show him and make it his own.
At last Jamie and I stood there looking at each other in the middle of the room, not sure how to begin. So as usual, I took the bull by the horns. “Why don’t you just sit down, Uncle Jamie, and I’ll just sort of walk you through the whole thing the way Poppa did it. Then we’ll start again for real and I’ll do it however you want me to. OK?”
“That’s fine, Jenny. Let’s get going.”
“First, as you know, I’d lay my robe on the couch — he calls it the davenport.” As I spoke, I matched action to word. “And then I’d go get the strap, come back, and stand in front of him like this while he prayed for me to grow up a good girl.”
Now came the tricky part: getting him to grab my breast without seeming too forward about it. Standing on his right, as usual, I had him take hold of my left wrist, then I raised it up behind my back, the way Poppa did.
“Then he’d push me forward with that hand and sort of catch my front to lower me onto his lap with his other hand.” And I launched myself forward — it was going to hurt if he didn’t catch me, but I didn’t want to give him time to think about it. And sure enough, he caught me. By the shoulder. But I just plunged ahead. “Then, because I squirm so much during a punishment, next he’d ‘grab a handle,’ as he put it.
I calmly took his left hand and placed it on my right breast. He left it there, but didn’t grab hold either. So I pressed his fingers and thumb into a grip and said, “Go ahead, Uncle Jamie, it won’t break.”
He squeezed it slightly, and I thought to myself, what the hell..."If you’re going to do that, Uncle Jamie — and of course that’s up to you — but if you’re going use my ‘handles,’ you’ll have to hang on tight enough so I won’t break loose the first time I wiggle a bit.”
“OK, Jenny, I understand. Now what.” His voice didn’t give me any clues to how he was taking it, but he didn’t let go.
“Then he gave me my strapping — pretty much like you do. When he was finished, he’d help me up...”
Jamie did that, letting go of his handle only when I was back on my feet.
“Then I’d come around like this...” I stepped between his knees and quickly kneeled down. I didn’t kneel for Poppa, but it just seemed more natural, now, to kneel for Jamie. “And he’d hug me and tell me he loved me and I was a good girl, and that kind of stuff.”
Suddenly, saying those words, I realized I was blushing. I didn’t think I was capable of embarrassment at that point, but there I was, my face and neck getting redder by the second. So I put my arms around Jamie, and pressed my head against his chest to hide my embarrassment, and he automatically put his arms around my shoulders and held me until I was ready to stand up again. It felt wonderful.
Back on my feet, I concluded, “Then I’d put my robe on and go to my room.” But now I just stood there, waiting for Jamie. But Jamie was just sitting there like a deer frozen in the headlights, while his eyes feasted on sights they hadn’t seen before.
Finally he seemed to come to his senses and continued as if there hadn’t been any delay at all. “Well, that seems pretty simple to me;” he had to clear his throat — a couple of times — to get his voice steady. “I think I can handle that... Uh, come over here, Jenny,” he said, indicating his right side.
He went through the ritual almost exactly as I had laid it out for him. When he first took hold of my breast, it was very tentative, and then he experimented with a couple of different grips, finally settling on one that was reasonably firm. I would of been happy if he’d taken all night experimenting like that.
* * *
And so began the continuation of the Saturday night ritual, with Uncle Jamie replacing Poppa. It felt great to me, but after a few weeks, I realized that he was just going through the motions — his heart wasn’t really in it.
What I needed, I was sure, was some way to disobey an order of his — to directly challenge his authority. The trouble was, I didn’t want to upset the working of the farm, or do something to the stock. And those were the only kinds of orders he ever gave me.
The answer came to me a couple of weeks later when Uncle Jamie announced that on Wednesday he would be making a trip to the high pasture cabin to make some repairs and wondered if I wanted to come along. Of course I did! Getting away for most of a day was always good, and being alone with Jamie was even better.
It wasn’t until Tuesday night, as I lay in bed daydreaming about the next day, that it came to me. That trip would take us right by the lake, and if it was as hot tomorrow as it had been for the past few days, we couldn’t drive by without stopping for at least a quick dip. That was my perfect opportunity: In a flash, I saw it all as clear as day — and the way I envisioned it is exactly the way it happened.
On the map, the lake was marked Beaver Tail L. , but all anyone ever called it was “the lake.” It was too small and nondescript to merit a name. It was most of a mile off the highway. There was just a two-bit dirt road most of the way, and no “public access” signs like the bigger lakes down towards the county seat. I don’t know how many people knew about it, but in all the years I’ve gone there, I only ran into someone else one time. Oh, the kids at school whispered about skinny dipping parties there, but I think that was just talk. There were stories about couples who went out there sometimes when they were supposed to be at a dance or the movies, but I don’t think they did much swimming.
The lake was shallow enough so the sun would warm it up by the 4th of July, but it was fed by a small mountain stream, so it was always refreshing. During the summer Poppa always made a stop there on the way to high pasture, so there was no problem talking Uncle Jamie into stopping there to eat our lunch.
I never did own a swimsuit — Poppa couldn’t see spending money for something used so seldom. When I was younger, I just went in in my underpants. When I got older, I usually swam in the shorts and top I was wearing. I’d either lie around in the sun till they dried, or bring along something to change into when I was done. I had often thought about how it would feel to go skinny dipping, but I’d never had the chance to try it with Poppa around. Now here I was, ready to kill two birds with one stone: see what it felt like to swim in the altogether, and give Uncle Jamie a more personal reason for punishing me.
Uncle Jamie carried the picnic basket Aunt Rinnie had packed for us. I grabbed the towels and blanket I had thrown into the back of the truck. When he set the basket down, I invited him for a quick dip before lunch.
“Naw — you go ahead. I didn’t bring a suit.”
“Neither did I,” I replied brightly. “Nobody wears suits way out here!”
He looked rather doubtful, but I just proceeded to peel off my halter top without turning away.
“Wait!” he finally sputtered, then added, “Stop,” when I started undoing my cut-offs.
“Oh, don’t be a fuddy-duddy,” I laughed, pretending he was kidding as I kicked off my sandals and wiggled out of my shorts.
“Jenny — get dressed this minute,” he demanded, starting to sound really put out.
“Oh come on, Uncle Jamie, what’s wrong? You see me undressed every week.”
“That’s different, you can’t run around naked out doors in public. Now get your clothes back on this instant.” He was adamant now — I couldn’t have been more delighted. This was going to get him very personally motivated.
“Oh don’t be a prude, this is outdoors, but it’s hardly public,” I shot back over my shoulder. “I’m going to take a dip and cool off... you can suit yourself.”
With that, I ran out into the lake intending to make a quick, dramatic dive. The only thing was, I forgot how far out the lake stayed shallow. It’s really hard to run through shallow water gracefully, you know? So I felt pretty foolish when I finally dove in water barely deep enough to cover my back. But it didn’t matter, I guess, because when I finally sneaked a look, Uncle Jamie had his back to me and was spreading lunch out on the blanket.
I didn’t stay in very long, because I had already accomplished my goal — or hadn’t. Staying longer wouldn’t change that. I came out and picked up a towel and started to dry off. Uncle Jamie was still keeping himself busy arranging the picnic stuff, so I struggled back into my clothes before I was really dry.
When I sat down on the blanket, he wouldn’t look up, but started right in on me. “Jenny, no matter how closely we work together, or how much like your friend I act, I’m still responsible for you and when I tell you something absolutely, like I did just now, I expect you to mind me absolutely.”
He had obviously rehearsed this little speech — at least up to that point. Then he started to flounder. “And this Saturday... I’ll... that is, you’ll... you’ll know what you’re being punished for.” I took a breath to reply, but he raised his hand to silence me. “There’ll be no discussion, young lady — you danced your dance and you’ll have to pay the piper. Now we’ll say no more about it.”
“Yes,” I murmured, keeping my head down so he couldn’t see the excitement in my eyes.
We finished lunch pretty much in silence. I don’t know what was in Uncle Jamie’s mind (I really didn’t), but I was very pleased with my morning’s work. It had gone exactly as I had planned, and I was feeling pretty smug. All I had to do was wait until Saturday night — three and a half more days! I didn’t know how I’d last that long. At least I knew what to expect — more or less.
Less, it turned out.
When we arrived at the high pasture, Uncle Jamie set me to work taking inventory of supplies in the cabin, and disappeared outside. After a few minutes, he stuck his head in and told me to join him outside. There was something about his tone that shouted this was no routine request.
“I’ve been thinking about your behavior at the lake, Jenny, and I decided not to wait til Saturday.” He stared at me for a moment, as if waiting for me to disagree. He had certainly taken me by surprise, but I wasn’t about to object. However, I was a bit nervous because I didn’t feel the least bit in control the way I had so far on Saturday nights.
For the first time I noticed that he’d placed a sawhorse a few feet in front of the cabin door. The blanket from our picnic was carefully folded to provide padding for the cross bar. Suddenly I realized he had continued speaking. He was saying something about applying the correction while the offense was still fresh in mind. “...and since you were so anxious to be naked outdoors,” he concluded, “that’s how I’ll punish you. Now.”
All at once, I realized he was telling me to get undressed. As I started to take my top off again, he picked up a bundle of branches he must have cut from the brush growing behind the cabin. As I was working my shorts down over my hips, he pulled one out; they were smooth and about as long as his arm. He swished it through the air, and I shuddered at the sound, sure it was going to smart way more than the strap.
When I was undressed, he motioned for me to approach the sawhorse. For a long moment, we stood there, on opposite sides, me staring at the bar and Uncle Jamie staring at me. I was trying to figure out how I could lay myself across the bar without flipping right over the top.
Finally he motioned me to come around and stand at one end of the horse. Then he told me to lay forward along the bar and get ready for my punishment.
When I got myself settled, with one breast on each side of the bar, it was actually fairly comfortable, except for the feeling I might slide off one side or the other at any moment. I hadn’t realized how hard I was clutching the bar until Jamie pried my hands loose and placed them on the front pair of legs.
