Success in Sight. For the rest of that winter after I turned 18, Jamie continued punishing me every Saturday night, supplemented by many impromptu sessions over the living room chair and elsewhere.
The Saturday night ritual Jamie had established remained pretty much unchanged. He did add something he called the ‘warm up’ that consisted of maybe 30 or 40 hand spanks before he started with the strap. It didn’t make much difference in the end result, but it had a very personal feel that I really liked.
For me, every week seemed a little better than the last. But when I stopped to think about the situation realistically, there was no evidence of any progress toward my goal of seducing Jamie. Except in my head.
And then came that glorious spring-like Saturday in April. The same day we got Muggsy, an eager, energetic German Shepherd pup that would play a small but crucial role in achieving my heart’s desire. But that’s getting ahead of my story again.
That beautiful Saturday was when Jamie made the ritual more intimate by adding a new wrinkle of his own invention. Instead of just holding my right breast after lowering me onto his lap, that night he established an elaborate new procedure involving my nipples.
Once he had lowered me into just the right position on his lap, he reached around with his spanking hand, grasped a nipple and stretched it out. Then, before he let it go, he trapped it tightly between the first two fingers of his “holding” hand, up next to the palm, while he wrapped all five fingers around the breast. This let him hold my breast and squeeze the nipple at the same time. Once he had his handle set, he gave me my warm-up.
Halfway through my punishment, he would shift his grip to the other breast. He would pinch and twist the nipple before pulling it out and trapping it between his fingers. (He usually made some comment like “I have to get my handle ready,” or “time to change handles.”) And if that grip didn’t satisfy him, he would stretch it out and try again. Sometimes he had to try three or four times before he was satisfied. At first he was firm but pretty wimpy about “getting his handles ready.” One time I let out a moan while he was getting his third grip, and he shot back that I should consider this part of my punishment. After that he quit being wimpy with my nipples, and sometimes I had my first orgasm before he even started the warm up.
Another thing that changed after I started sleeping in the nude: Uncle Jamie started flipping the covers off me instead of just opening my door and hollering when he came to wake me up. If I was on my stomach, he’d usually give my fanny a good slap; if I was on my back, he’d generally slap me on a thigh or hip, wherever the angle was right. About half the time, he’d bark at me to get my fanny out to the kitchen to perform some assigned chore or breakfast task. At first, I’d do what he had asked then rush back to get dressed. But after admitting to myself that what I really wanted was to have Jamie make love to me, I started doing one more thing, and then one more thing, before I bothered to get dressed. Jamie never commented one way or the other, but it was obvious he enjoyed watching me run around the house naked.
The most I ever saw of Jamie’s body was once or twice a week when he’d cross from the bathroom to his bedroom, after a shower, with just a towel around his waist. Until the next time we went up to reprovision the high pasture cabin.
* * *
You have to understand that I had been masturbating for quite a few years, and I had been indulging more often and more intensely since Jamie and I were alone. Partly this was a result of admitting my desire consciously and pursuing it actively, and partly a result of the increased stimulation Jamie was administering with his belt, strap, and hands. However, almost all my indulging was in the evening, lying in bed. Almost all.
One exception was the day in early June that Jamie was taking me to the high pasture cabin. We stopped on the way for lunch at the lake. It was in the middle of one of those early summer heat waves. I wanted more than just a repeat of the last time we stopped there, so as soon as Jamie set the picnic basket on the blanket I had spread out, I told him we couldn’t be that close to the only heat-relief in miles without taking a dip. This time I was determined to get him in, too.
I jumped up, grabbed him by the hand, and started dragging him to the water. Of course if he weren’t allowing it, I never could have budged him. But when we arrived at the grassy bank, the obvious disrobing spot, he dug in his heels. I opened my mouth to protest, but decided I’d be in a stronger position without my clothes. I let go his hand and started unbuttoning my blouse.
“Come on,” I was looking him straight in the eyes as I continued steadily unbuttoning; “don’t be a chicken.” Finally sensing that his discomfort was reaching the critical point, I turned my back so he could watch without embarrassment.
"You’re just as hot as I am.” Don’t I wish, I added to myself, and let my blouse slip to the ground. I reached back to unhook my bra, but it refused to budge. Without looking around, or raising my voice, I said, “Would you mind doing this hook for me, Jamie?”
He fumbled roughly for several seconds. When it finally opened, I quickly took a small step backward and, as I hoped, he slipped the straps off my shoulders. I had crossed my arms in front of my breasts, as if in modesty, but really to prevent the bra from just falling off. Now I closed the remaining gap between us, leaning against his chest while I “helped” him finish removing it by opening my arms. We wound up in a rather intimate if brief embrace. Then I turned abruptly, gave him a thank-you peck on the cheek, and started to unbutton his shirt. He kept making protesting sounds, but let me continue. Until I started pulling the tails out of his pants. I could see the tell-tale bulge beside his fly as he finally pushed my hands away.
Throwing caution to the wind, I laughed and said, “Come on, Jamie, the water’s not that cold—you won’t lose anything,” and I gave his bulge a teasing flick with the back of my fingers.
I didn’t wait for a reaction, I just turned around, unfastened my cut-offs, and started working them over my hips. Next I peeled my panties down and remained bent over to unfasten my shoes. “Last one in’s a sissy!” I couldn’t resist the temptation to peek at him between my legs. He had turned his back and was actually unbuckling his belt!
“Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
Well, to make a long story short, I ran in and Jamie did follow a few moments later. Wearing his Jockey shorts. He seemed to have responded to my earlier teasing, so I decided to carry it a bit further by splashing water in his face, grabbing his legs underwater, and other such silliness. I shouldn’t say it like that. I was having a great time, and more important, Jamie got caught up in it and was teasing right back. So there was lots of bumping and grabbing and laughing.
We were gradually getting more intense in our exchanges, and finally I decided it was time for my main move. Next time I got behind Jamie, I grabbed his shorts on both sides and jerked them clear to his knees. I had expected to jerk and flee, but somehow I was still holding on as he spun around to defend himself and lost his balance. Legs flailing wildly, he fell away, but his Jockeys were still in my hand. Naturally I took off, determined to keep them as long as possible, with Jamie in hot pursuit. He soon caught me by a foot and hauled me back. I had no intention of giving them up without a struggle, and soon we were in a full body contact wrestling match. I loved it. But too soon, Jamie realized how far he had gone and backed off.
“OK, Jenny. That’s not funny. Come on, give me my shorts.”
“Oh, come on, Jamie, loosen up. How many times have you told me that there’s nothing wrong with nudity, that there’s no reason to be ashamed of our bodies?”
“That was different.”
“Was it? How come? You mean women are supposed to be proud of their bodies, and men ashamed of theirs?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Jenny. That’s ridiculous.”
“If you really believe it then just relax and enjoy.” I finally looked directly at him and discovered he was staring so hard at my body, he didn’t even notice where my eyes were. So I took the opportunity to study his anatomy. I couldn’t tell whether it was starting to get hard, or just bobbing in the currents, but I was thrilled with what I saw. Then, still staring deliberately at his sex, I added mischievously, “I think it feels great to feel the water all over.”
“Jennifer!” his voice was stern, but his eyes were turned aside uncertainly, “I’m your uncle.”
“No you’re not, Jamie. You’re my aunt’s former husband. You’re not related to me at all!” I was really glad to get a chance to say that to him right out loud. It’s not the sort of thing you can just casually mention out of a clear blue sky. But I was sure that keeping that fact at the forefront of his thinking was critical to achieving my heart’s desire.
Suddenly a whole new tack popped into my mind full blown. “Are you afraid that you’ll lose control of me? I mean, that you won’t be able to maintain your discipline if we have a good time together occasionally?” Here I lowered my eyes submissively, and started moving in ultra-slow motion toward him.
He muttered the start of some kind of denial. I really had him off balance now. So I plunged on. “I didn’t think there was any question of your maintaining your authority. There certainly isn’t any question of me accepting your discipline. You must know, Jamie, trying to escape that is the furthest thing from my mind. But you may not know that I really appreciate what you’re trying to do for me… really appreciate how much you care. And I’m sorry when I fall short of your expectations. Gosh, now that I think of it, I may never have said it in so many words, Jamie,” by this time I was standing right in front of him, our eyes locked together; I put my hands on his arms and continued, “so let me say it now: Thank you.”
I rose up on tiptoe and gave him a brief, gentle kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for caring enough to watch over me, and helping me always try to be better.” I leaned just barely closer. “I deserve every stroke, every crack...” here I let my nipples just graze the hair on his chest... “every twist and squeeze. I deserve them all, and probably many more. So I thank you very much.” And I kissed him on the mouth. Not long and not hard; I didn’t want to spook him. And I didn’t. Which was good because I had one more—well actually two more to go.
“And I want you to know,” I continued practically before the kiss had ended, “that no matter what ever happens between us, I hope you’ll never stop my punishments.” And I gave him a full-length hug. No special squeezing or grinding, of course. But for several seconds we were locked tightly together. I must admit, I’ve never had to work harder at anything in my life. Holding still, I mean, with his sex pressing against my stomach. But I managed it, and also to back away again before he panicked.
I stepped back a pace and held his shorts out to him. “Here. I’m sorry. You can put them back on. If you want to.”
Well, we swam calmly together for a few minutes. With Jamie holding his shorts in his hand. I was really so cold by then I was ready to get out. But neither of us wanted to be the first to quit. It’s like now we each had to prove to the other that we were OK about skinny dipping together.
After doubling what I considered the minimum time to make that “statement,” I headed for shore and scrambled up the bank to my towel. When I turned around, Jamie was just leaving the water. He’d put his shorts back on. I smiled at him as he walked nonchalantly toward me. Partly because I thought he was so sweet. And partly because wet Jockey shorts are no covering at all. (Although I must admit that what I was seeing now didn’t bear much resemblance to what I had observed while we were fooling around in the water.)
By the time Jamie arrived, I was stretched out on my stomach on our picnic blanket, soaking in the marvelous warmth. I watched Jamie dry off through half closed eyes. I’m still not sure if he thought I was sleeping, but before getting dressed, he peeled off his shorts, carefully finished drying, and then pulled on his jeans without them.
Once he was covered up, I stirred and opened my eyes and told him I’d like to soak up some rays before we went on to the cabin if he didn’t mind. He knelt beside me and stroked my hair for a moment.
“OK, Jenny, if you want to.” His hand flowed down my back and came to rest lightly on my fanny. “But don’t think getting sunburned down here...” by then her was stroking and caressing my bottom like he did after a strapping, and I had reflexively parted my legs, “...will get you out of your punishment tomorrow night.”
“Of course not... Uncle Jamison.” Which produced the longest, most genuine laughter I had ever heard from Jamie. At least since Poppa died. “But now that you mention it, would you please put some suntan oil on it for me?”
“Sure. Why not? Of course what I ought to do is tan it myself, first. For teasing your poor old uncle so mercilessly.”
“You’re right,” I quickly agreed, pushing myself up on my knees, then settling back on my heels. “Do you want to use your hand or your belt,” trying very hard to convey to him that if he said belt, I would remove it for him.
He looked me searchingly in the eyes for several seconds, then, “My hand will be sufficient, Jenny.” I just waited, because with no chair for him to sit on, I wasn’t sure what to do. “Well, let’s see... OK, on your hands and knees.”
I straightened up, then bent forward as prescribed. He got on his knees beside me. Our relative positions weren’t quite the same as usual, but close. After much fussing and tugging on various parts of my anatomy, he finally decided it was as good as it was going to get. He reached under me and grabbed a breast. It obviously didn’t feel right to him. He tried the other one, then a second grip, and then he let go. “Well, that’s not going to work in this position. That’s all right. I’ll do your nipple punishment afterward.”
I hadn’t realized he considered that a separate category of punishment... Well! something new to think on.
Meanwhile, he had put his arm around my waist and pulled me snugly against him. He started right in. He was deliberately moving the point of impact to cover my entire bottom and upper thighs. But these were more like slaps than spanks, strictly ritual. A token of submission, not punishment. Almost before I knew it, he gave me one solid, centered spank and announced, “OK. Up on your knees again.”
He circled around, pushed my calves apart to make room, and then knelt behind me with his knees between mine. He sat back on his heels and pulled me back so I was sitting on his thighs. He reached around and grasped my nipples. Then let go, shifted my position a bit, told me to lock my hands behind my head, and pulled me back further, so I was leaning against his bare chest. As he took a new grip on my nipples, I was afraid he would feel my heart hammering just beneath his hands.
He proceeded to pinch, squeeze, pull, and twist my nipples, singly and together, in tandem and opposed. I was starting that final climb to orgasm when he suddenly stopped. He didn’t release his grip, just stopped moving. His voice, almost against my ear, was low and raspy, “This isn’t right.”
My heart sank. Just when I thought things had been progressing so well. But then he continued, “I really shouldn’t be punishing you. You were right. I was being silly.”
Relief flooded through me with such intensity I was instantly back to the brink I had been teetering on before. I let my hands unclasp and with one reached back to pull Jamie’s head forward, so I could press my cheek against his, at least close enough to be the gesture I wanted it to be. “Thank you,” I whispered against his face. “For saying that, I mean, you don’t know how...warm that makes me feel.”
My other hand was just kind of floating in midair. I couldn’t figure out where to put it. I wanted desperately to place it on the back of his, and guide it onto my breast, but I was sure that was too blatant for now. “I don’t care about the punishment—you know that, don’t you?” He grunted affirmation. “I’ve already given you blanket permission, you know, to punish me for anything at all...” I placed my free hand on his arm, near the side of my breast, as tacit endorsement of its presence there, without being too forward. I also turned my head a trifle more, so I was almost whispering in his ear. “...or to punish me for... nothing... beyond the fact...” here I snuggled a little closer into his lap and was rewarded by contact with the unmistakable bulge of his erection, “...that it pleases you to do so.”
“I don’t enjoy — seeing you suffer,” he protested.
“No, of course you don’t –” I had released his head and now spoke out loud, “– that’s not what I meant at all.” I deliberately wiggled my fanny — ever so slightly — against his erection. “And you know it.” I didn’t give him time to reply to that. “Besides, I don’t ‘suffer’ from your punishments. There’s a whole world of difference between experiencing pain and suffering. I do experience pain when you punish me, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, for a limited period of time. But what happens as a result of that is certainly not ‘suffering.’ And you know that, too.”
This produced a slight twitch against my buttock. “OK,” he conceded with a tiny chuckle and a light squeeze of both nipples. A parting squeeze, I realized, but was delighted when he merely moved them down, encircling my stomach — high and low. His upper arm was snuggled against the underside of both breasts, the lower hand splayed across my abdomen, sort of implying he’d include my entire torso if his hand would reach that far. This position was less sexy, but infinitely more intimate. I brought my free hand down and started gently caressing the back of his splayed hand with my fingertips.
“So you see, don’t you, that not only do you not have to justify your punishments to me...” I let this sink in—and he was certainly receptive, “...but to do so implies that you doubt me. Doubt my sincerity. Understand?”
“I... I can see that...” I was sure it wasn’t all registering in his mind, but his emotional response was certainly positive... and hungry. And eager.
“So let me say one more time that I really am happy to submit... myself... to your discipline... your wishes... your pleasure.” I put my arms on top of his, hugging him hugging me. I felt like I was not quite on top of the world, but awfully close.
“Well, my dear, we can’t while away the whole afternoon.