Skirt Lifted Vol. 1 (2 page)

A perfect, well trimmed “airstrip” of
red-brown pubic hair soon was exposed.  Spreading her feet
apart a few inches to balance herself Tanya leaned down, touched
her toes, felt the pink carpet underneath her feet.

Tap, tap, tap. The rattan touched her most
intimate parts, the tip glanced past her pussy causing her to
shutter and clench her bottom cheeks in dread.  This position
left her so exposed.

Tanya continued to stair at her toes, fixated
on the seam in her stockings.  Involuntarily she moved her
toes, felt the pile of the carpet…

Whack!

“Ouch!” Tanya began to stand stopped herself
trying not to get out of position.  The burning pain made its
way through her body.

Whack! This time it was lower and Tanya let
out a wail.

Whack! Whack! The Kaboo cane struck higher
Tanya cried more.

There was a pause and the girl moved her
brown hair out of her face.

“We’re not done yet Tanya.  Keep
touching those toes.” her daddy said tapping the rod on her wealed
ass, each touch evoking an aching pain all its own.

Tanya tried to focus on her toes but the pain
was overwhelming.  She wanted to lay down and for the terrible
weapon to stop ripping into her sore bottom.  What time was
it?

Whack!

Tanya let out s long wail pleaded with her
daddy to stop caning her.  She’d be a good girl she
promised.  “It hurts.”

“That’s the point.” her daddy agreed applying
the rod three more times across his little minx of a daughter,
caused Tanya to let out more yelps with each stroke.

Blue eyes filled with tears her auburn hair
in total disarray Tanya Strutt wobbled in her humiliating
position.  Her butt was on fire, she didn’t dare touch it.

Whack! “Ouch! Please stop daddy!”

Whack! “Arrgh!”, an exhale of breath.

Whack!

Tanya wobbled, began to kneel and fall out of
position at last.

“Butt up, touch your toes.”

Obeying Tanya placed her French Manicured
nails to her stocking clad toes, brunette hair all over the
place.

Whack!

Whack!

Whack!

The Kaboo cane ripped into Tanya’s butt left
it a mess of reddened welts and tramlines.

“Stand up Tanya.” Mr. Strutt helped his
daughter stand, kissed her forehead then replaced the instrument of
punishment back in his daughter’s dresser.  “Go to bed.”

Rubbing her aching, fiery ass Tanya moved
back the covers on her bed found that it was now 11:30.  Had
her punishment really taken so long?

A few months ago my American niece Gisela, my
sister's daughter came to spend time with me in South Africa.
Gisela is a pretty young girl: Curly blonde hair that reaches down
her back almost to her bottom. Green clear eyes and full pink lips
along with a tiny freckle beneath her left eye complete her lovely
face. At twenty-one Gigi is like most girls her age she likes to
spend time partying with her friends. One day last week Gigi went
out to a party and missed her One 'Clock curfew.

I spent the entire night driving Johannesburg
to find her and when I did she was in quite a state. Gigi was very
drunk and at the very moment I pulled up one of the clubs I found
her "necking" a guy who had to be at least twice her age.

Without saying a word I dragged her into the
car. We spent most of the ride home in silence until Gigi said:
"I'm sorry uncle, I didn't mean to make you angry with me."

I told her that I was very worried about her
and that if her mother or father had seen her like this they'd kill
both of us. She agreed and I heard her mumble something that she
was glad that she wasn't back home in Texas because her father
would have paddled her butt.

Once we got home Gigi went straight off to
bed. A few hours later though she crept into my room finding that I
was still awake. I asked if there was a problem? She said: "I feel
bad about making you upset with me.”

There was a clear frown on her face.

"I really think that I need for you to punish
me."

At this I asked her what she meant, though as
you can guess by this time I had a good idea of what she was
referring to. It was best to make her ask.

“Back home daddy would make me bare my butt
for twelve swats with the board." She bit her lip. "I think I need
a spanking uncle."

This didn't seem a bad idea at all. Gigi had
me a wreck earlier and to be honest the idea of giving her seat a
sound thrashing sounded like it might serve us both well.

I told her that I agreed perhaps a spanking
was in order at the moment exactly how I intended to deliver her
blistering was churning in the back of my brain.

"Lets get it over with then." She said
standing and pulling out a chair. I noticed that she starting to
tug up her pale silver nightgown showing a hint of her blue
thong.

Not tonight I told her. It was very late,
almost three. Besides if I were to thrash Gisela it would need to
be something that left an impression on this headstrong young
women.

I told her tomorrow evening before she went
to sleep I would punish her. She would have to stay home for the
day and when it was time for me to discipline her she would need to
do exactly as she was told or her punishment would not count.

Agreeing Gigi went back to her room for the
night.

At eight, after we finished watching a game
show I told Gigi to go up stair and ready herself for bed. This I
knew involved her slipping into one of her body hugging silk
nightgowns which would make it easy for me to bare her butt for her
spanking. What I had in mind was a little more than a few swats
though.

Gigi did as she was told and went up to her
room to get ready. As she walked up the stairs I could see that she
had a fearful look on her face not knowing what to expect on her
return.

About three minutes later Gigi came
downstairs dressed in a gold nightgown and barefoot. Her green eyes
opened wide and her quivering little pink lips parted in shock when
she fully comprehended what I intended to do to her.

"Uncle" she pleaded. "Please not a cane…
It'll hurt so much." Tears had started to come down her face in
anguish.

I told her that she agreed to do as I told
her. Bending the yard long straight piece of rattan in my hands to
make it clear I meant business. The cane was from the colonial
period and used to discipline soldiers. Its handle was bound with
leather.

The cut of the cane in the air made a most
satisfying swish! As I explained the rules of her punishment
Gigi.

For Gisela's caning she would be allowed to
take the first six cuts over her panties but for the rest she would
take them on the bare bottom. To this Gigi nodded frowning the
whole time and shifting her five-eight stature from one bare foot
to the other. Also she would need to remain on her tiptoes during
her caning or the cut would not count. I knew that Gigi was a
ballerina and had sufficient balance, also my intent was not to
allow her to put on a "stiff upper lip" during her punishment.

In the center of the TV room I had placed a
stool and I ordered Gigi to go over to it and lean on her elbows on
the padded seat. She did as I commanded bending and pulling up the
hem of her nightgown as she did so.

Underneath her golden silk nightgown Gigi
wore pink translucent panties that clearly showed the space between
her tow tight ass cheeks. I heard her sigh regretfully as she
lifted herself up onto her toes thus placing her butt into an ideal
position for her caning.

Luckily Gigi had barretted back her hair so
that her blonde curls didn't fall into her face as she bent over
the stool. She had tightly shut her eyes and I told her to keep
them open. It was time to begin the first of her twenty-four
cuts.

Bringing the rattan down just fullest curve
of her ass I heard Gigi moan. A clear welt formed under he
diaphanous underwear. She kept her footing though she rocked a
bit.

The next stroke fell with a hard crack and
Gigi screamed fighting to keep her position over the stool. She
didn't wish to earn more cuts for touching her butt. Falling off
her tiptoes would mean we would start her punishment again no
matter what number we were at.

Stroke three landed where her thighs and butt
joined, number four I gave her without a pause and this produced
another high pitched yelp.

Five I landed on her right thigh and she
moaned this nearly caused her to rest back on feet. I warned her if
she got off her tiptoes we'd start all over. She pleaded with me
but I told her this was the condition of her punishment.

Finally we had reached number six. The
stripes from her caning could be made out clearly under her
panties. In a moment she would be without their slight
protection.

Number six cut through the air and landed
just on her left ass cheek this brought a holler and her hands left
the seat of the stool. Some how Gigi managed to keep on her toes
and not touch her butt.

I reminded her that now she would have to
remove her panties.

Reaching into the waistband she began to draw
the pink clingy fabric over the six raised welts. I was very
impressed that she managed to remove them without getting off her
toes.

Very painfully she flung her panties, away
from her on the end of her foot then repositioned herself over the
stool.

The next six brought more screeching and at
one point Gigi reached back to rub one of the purplish welts. She
earned three extra to the twenty-four of her caning.

Coming to the final six I intended to bring
her to her breaking point and landed them in succession. Each time
the cane cracked across her bared flesh she winced and cried
begging me to stop. The very final cut I made sure to land it under
the panty line but she Gigi had been reduced to utter sobbing.
Again she made a great effort not to let herself fall off her
tiptoes though her legs wobbled and she was clearly in a great deal
of pain.

So Gigi's caning had ended. I sent her up to
her room to go to sleep though I was sure that she would not sleep
very well tonight on her bruised ass. It was almost nine and I
decided to go to bed as well.

The next day at breakfast Gigi came down
stairs still in pain. She sat herself gingerly in her chair and
nibbled at her eggs.

I asked if she was okay and she told me that
she was. Gigi also said that though it hurt she'd never forget her
thrashing and hoped that if she needed to be caned again that I
would see that she got the cuts she deserved.

For that visit Gigi didn't need to feel the
rattan though she did get it a few more times the next year of her
stay with me.

My sister and her husband told me that they
wanted me to secure them a rattan for use with Gigi and her little
sister back in Texas.

Imogen Buxton sighed from her side of the
car, felt a chill as they reached the driveway and pulled up to the
house. Damn, the ride back from the city had been way shorter then
she had wanted for it to be.

London on a Thursday night, Imogen had
partied with her friends until that was her ride ditched her for a
guy.  Typical of Angelina and now she was in for it.

The car came to a halt, Imogen and her dad
got out walked to the door of the mud room of their house.  As
she entered the mud room Imogen sucked in a breath, turned meekly
brushed a hand through her honey colored, light brown hair and said
to her dad: “Got to use the toilet first.” She pouted.

“Hurry back sweetheart.” Her dad sent her off
with a loud whack on the seat of her skimpy black dress which only
caused her to jump with a yelp.

Despite what Imogen’s father might have
thought she wasn’t stalling, she did need to go, her nerves had
gotten to her, not that a delay in her caning wasn’t on her
mind.

How stupid could she have been? She knew the
rules.  No night’s out during the week but she had snuck out
anyway.  After Angelina had ditched her Imogen had no choice
but to phone home for a ride.

There was no lecture when he had retrieved
her or much even said about the whole incident on their way back to
the small village that they called home.  Imogen knew very
well the consequences, no need to discuss what would be a forgone
conclusion.

Done with her toiletries Imogen returned to
the mud room, slipped off her shoes and set them near the step up
into the main house for later to return them to her room after this
dreaded business was all over and done.

She felt the cool slate of the floor on the
soles of her bare feet and went over to the lip that edged the
small room, cool air stiffened her nipples, and she realized that
she had begun to flush.

Slowly Imogen reached for the hem of her
short dress, began to hike it up, and hooked her thumbs into her
white lacy knickers.  A glance over her shoulder she watched
her dad fetch the cane that sat in a nearby umbrella bucket. 
It was straight, thin, and positively whippy.

Panties at her ankles Imogen bent, touched
the lip of the mud room with her French manicured nails, choked
out: “Ready dad.”

Thawk!

“Ouch!”

Thawk! Imogen jumped up, grabbed at the hot
line across her buttocks.

“That’ll be an extra stroke then.”

Obediently Imogen bent back down.  It
was too late at night for this, she just wanted to get this over
with and go to bed.

Slash, crack! Imogen began to uncontrollably
cry at that last searing stroke.  A nasty purplish welt
throbbed across her cheeks.

“Please!” Imogen begged.  “I know I
broke the rules I won’t do it again.”

“That’s right young lady you won’t.
 First though, you’ve more strokes to go.  Imogen, do
keep your cries to a minimum.  Bad enough I had to go out at
midnight to pick you up but your mother’s asleep.”