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Saturday, 21 January 2017

Rosie

Story from Roué 6
Rosalind slouches with her weight on one hip, her skirt swelling out over her maturing young hips, school tie slightly awry and the suggestion of a pout on her lips which makes her look younger than her eighteen years and one month.
Her blonde hair, secured either side by two yellow bows, falls a little in front of her face, her eyes are downcast and staring blankly at the pattern on her uncle’s brown brogue shoes, and her cheeks are flushed, the rosy tinge a product of her consternation at having just been told that she is going to be punished. Uncle William’s shoe taps impatiently against the floor.
‘Well — what have you to say to that miss?’
Rosie looks up sulkily from under her untidy hair, catching her uncle’s eyes and biting her lip as she sees the cold glint in them.
‘I-I don’t think it’s fair’ she mutters. ‘I mean — if mum were here she wouldn’t say I have to be punished. She — she wouldn’t let you punish me anyway. I just don’t think it’s fair, that’s all.’
So Rosie doesn’t think it’s fair; but her Uncle William thinks it’s a marvellous idea. He gets to his feet. Rosie edges away a little, her troubled eyes following her uncle’s movements warily.
‘Well I think that little girls shouldn’t argue with their elders, that’s what I think.
William’s face is clouded with a pretended frown. He looks his niece up and down as if daring her to contradict him. Rosie doesn’t dare, and William rises up on his toes and then down again as if emphasising his authority over his young charge.
‘And what’s more, I think it’s time that a certain young lady felt a strap across her impudent bottom. Eh?... The strap, my girl! Now what d’you say to that?’
Rosie says nothing too clearly, though she tries...
‘But Uncle W-William — I — I don’t think — I mean — oh, please, Uncle William —’
‘Please what? Uncle William. Please don’t strap my bottom, Uncle William? Please don’t take my knickers down Uncle William? And why not, pray? Naughty little girls like you deserve the strap, don’t they Rosalind?... Eh?... Don’t they?’
‘Ooh — I — I don’t know —’
‘Don’t you? Well you’re about to find out my girl! Now get that skirt off this instant, and take your pants down, d’you hear? We’ll see how quick you learn with a couple of dozen smacks across your bottom.’
‘But Uncle William —’
‘This instant Rosalind — I shan’t tell you again my girl!’
Rosie has pushed her luck as far as she dare. Any more argument and she’ll get more than the strap — she’ll get the cane, and she knows it.
William puts his hands behind his back, glaring at Rosie while she looks miserably down at the floor and fiddles with the buttons of her skirt. The zip rasps undone. Rosie hangs onto her skirt a moment longer until an impatient intake of breath from her Uncle dissipates her last remaining vestiges of defiance. With a quiet ‘swoosh’ she slips her skirt down and steps out of it.
‘Fold it neatly.’ instructs William, and Rosie reluctantly does as she is told, doubling the skirt and draping it over the back of a chair while her uncle’s glance slides around the maturing contours of her hips with the close-fitting hug of her knickers leaving little to the imagination. With a soft ‘plop’ Rosie’s skirt slips off the chair and onto the carpet.
‘You can’t do anything quite right, can you.’ mocks William, and Rosie has to crouch down and retrieve the skirt, her pants tightening around the soft curve of her buttocks, bum-cheeks wobbling faintly with a firm and resilient youthfulness as she straightens up and replaces the skirt properly over the chair.
‘And now your knickers young miss,’ gloats William. ‘Get ‘em down girl.’
Rosie hesitates, wavers, and then risks one last try. Her voice is breathless and her tone childish, wheedling and frankly pleading at the same time.
‘Please Uncle William, please don’t make me —.’ She stands very coyly, hands folded demurely in front of her, eyes wide and helpless.
‘And why not?’ asks William, quietly and with a hint of teasing... Rosie wheedles desperately.
‘It... it’s embarrassing —’ she says. ‘It’s well... rude, Uncle William. A girl shouldn’t have to take her pants down... n...not when she’s grown up she shouldn’t. It’s just — not fair.’
William listens with an air of reasonableness to his niece’s pleas then sounding almost understanding he says. ‘You may be right Rosalind. You may be too ‘grown up’ to have your pants taken down...’ He pretends to consider...
‘Hmmmm, the trouble is — how can we be sure you are ‘grown up’. Eh?’
Rosie grasps at the straw. ‘I...I’ll be leaving college soon... I could be at work at my age... I am a big girl now Uncle William.’
William seems to mull it over. ‘D’you know... I think you could be right Rosalind. You could well be right.’
He turns on his heel and goes to a corner cupboard from which he takes both the tawse and a slim, wicked-looking cane. With a cheerful grin on his lips he comes back across the room to where the dismayed Rosie is standing in her knickers, a hand at her mouth and a look of near-panic in her eyes. William swishes the cane several times and Rosie flinches at the sound.
‘Right then,’ says William ‘bend over young lady. Pull your pants up tight, touch your toes, and keep your bottom still while I’m caning you.’
Rosie doesn’t move. She clasps her other hand to her mouth and gasps several inaudible words.
‘Pardon?’ says William, swishing the cane again.
‘Oooh — n-no — please, I hate the cane!  Oh, please Uncle William...’
‘What? Don’t like the cane? But you’re a big girl now Rosalind... Grown up... Big girls always get the cane... more especially when they’ve been naughty like little girls.’
‘B-but — but, I don’t need the cane Uncle William... th-the... the strap hurts lots and lots anyway... it’s n-nearly as bad as the cane... ooh, I don’t want the cane...’
William swooshes the cane once more, taps it against his palm, then raises his eyebrows at his niece.
‘You’ll have to excuse me Rosalind... but a moment ago I thought you said you wanted the cane. At least, I thought you said you were ‘grown up’,’ He grins. ‘And as I say, big girls always get the cane.’
Rosalind bites her lip miserably and tugs childishly at the leg elastic of her school pants, looking anything but grown up. William gives her the chance to say something but she is too nervous now to find an answer. He waits a little longer but Rosie doesn’t risk answering, standing in front of him and looking completely out of her depth. William smiles at her, though there is little warmth in his expression.
‘Ah well... it seems you’re not a big girl after all...’
A glance down at the girl’s knickers is all that is needed. Fumblingly Rosie nudges her pants down off her hips, turning away so that she doesn’t have to let him see any more than she absolutely has to. Her smooth round cheeks spill out over the elastic and William flicks the tawse tormentingly up under the plumpness of her bum, making her teeter unsteadily on her toes and pant little ‘ooches’ and ‘owws’ as the leather smacks her bottom.
She steps out of her knickers, hopping on one foot as they get caught on the buckle of a sandal. She snatches little gasps as the strap smacks around her tender young bottom. Her knickers pull free of her shoe and then she is ordered across the back of the chair, bottom up high, knees pushed back, feet together, hands clasping the chair legs. The delicate pink of her vulva peeps timidly from the apex of her thighs.
The strap smacks briskly across both legs as a warning.
‘And don’t you give me any trouble my girl, or you’ll be going to bed with a caned bottom as well, d’you hear.’
‘Yes —’ her voice is almost inaudible. The strap curls back, hums through the air, cracks hard across the naked cheeks and elicits a sharp yelp from young Rosie as she rocks forward over the chair. Her bottom squeezes together then worms slowly and sensuously as the girl feels the sting sink in. The strap is lifted again and then lands with an ear splitting Thwack!... Rosie yells and snatches her bottom to one side, buttocks bouncing as she swings her hips, but the strap comes stinging down from the opposite side, catching her off-balance and making her squeal desperately.
Rosie is strapped thoroughly, her round young bum glowing fiercely with the heat of the strap-marks while she presses her thighs together, dips one knee in front of the other and sinks one hip before repeating the same, frantically wriggling more to the other side. She is crying uncontrollably when at last her punishment is over.
Though it is only eight o’clock in the evening she is sent up to bed, with Uncle William following his knickerless niece up the stairs, harrying her stumbling progress with teasing little slaps on alternate cheeks and then standing, hands on hips, while Rosie undresses and slips tearfully in between the cool sheets.
Downstairs again, William slides upon the writing desk and takes out some paper. He nibbles the end of his pen for a bit, then he begins to write.
Dear Lilly,
Just thought I’d drop you a line to say that all is well, and that Rosalind and I are getting on famously together, though I think she is missing you and her sister a bit. By the way.............

3 comments:

  1. That's how to deal with them, a thorough strapping and bed. Given Rosie is not as grown up as she seems to think I would suggest a school uniform for wearing at home and out shopping. If asked why I'm sure her explanation to passers by will be worth hearing.

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  2. Inspector Rudkin30 August 2019 at 10:27

    That's the ticket get all three of them into his clutches. All caned side by side nightly and then a shortest straw to see who won't be sleeping in her own bed...

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  3. Don't spare the rod

    Great story Fleas. Why naughty girls sure need their bare botties caned & we're never too old. Oh my! All these strict uncles & their exasperated sisters who cannot control their daughters eh?!

    My mother would be aghast! She was one of the strictest God-fearing moms at our Church ( 1950s & beyond) & she spared the rod not one iota!!! Oh my!

    If sister & me gotten bad, she would haul us girls into the living room, whisk down our 1950s white knickers & raise our 1950s dresses & tan our chubby, bare, lily white bottoms with the cane until they were water melon-red! A baker's dozen on the bare buttocks was just normal, loving chastisement. We gotten sent to our rooms squawking & crying in serious discomfort! It was called a spanking, Fleas & it was part of life.

    All this PC wishy-washy nonsense was light years away. And still is in parts of Georgia & South Carolina. Why, having my sensitive-skinned, whiter-than-white backside bared for the cane sure did me good growing up in the 1960s! And most of my besties agree, already. We all gotten our whoopings on a bare ass. It was a fact of our Southern culture & sound family values. I'm a nostalgic 61 year old, already & love the no-nonsense contexts of this great Blog which curates decades of CP content, thank you!
    Brenda xx

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