by Ronda DeMure
“Because, in addition to wanting to be spanked, I believe you’re also a submissive.”
“How can that be?” Rebecca was taken aback. “Aren’t submissive women supposed to be mindless airheads? I’m a college graduate; I manage all of our finances at home. I’m even the president of our PTA.”
Don raised his right hand. “That’s a common misconception. The fact is that many submissives are in demanding and even high profile, take charge positions. Being submissive provides them with a temporary escape from all of that,” he smiled and slowly nodded, “As well a giving them the vehicle to get spanked.”
“Wow! I never knew that.” Rebecca shifted in her seat. “So?” She began sheepishly. “What else happens to submissive women? Besides getting spanked, I mean.”
“Just about anything they want. The submissive defines her limits, tells her dominant what she wants to experience and turns herself over to him. It’s a balance of vulnerability and trust.”
Don’s use of the word “vulnerability” instantly induced wetness between Rebecca’s legs and she tightly crossed them. ”I think I could trust you,” She said, then rolled her teeth across her lower lip. “I get to define the limits?”
“That’s correct.” Don took a long drink of coffee and his eyes seemed to sparkle as his face re-emerged from the cup. “But limits do tend to be fluid. They change over time and, as trust grows, certain limits might be challenged.” He put his cup down. “Except for hard limits; they’re inviolate.”
“So if I said sex is a hard limit?” Rebecca whispered excitedly.
“Then it would remain so. Only you could change that. A true dominant will never challenge a submissive’s hard limit.”
Rebecca untangled her legs, put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on top of her hands, a fruitless attempt to control her smirking. “Will I always get to be a schoolgirl?” she asked.
“Possibly.” Don stroked his chin. “It’s a role you clearly like, but it’s a bit limited. We need to allow for variations.” His grin grew as the idea came to him. “You are interested in disconnecting from Rebecca, right?”
“Absolutely! If there is no Rebecca there’s no guilt.”
“You told me that when you were young you used to go by Becky, that Rebecca is your grownup name.”
“That’s right.” She knew where this conversation was going and she very much liked it, involuntarily tapping her thighs together as she listened intently to Don’s seductive accent.
“Then become Becky. Sometimes she can be a schoolgirl but other times she’ll be doing things with her favorite uncle, Uncle Don.”
“Will, um, Uncle Don touch Becky. You know, like you do?” It was an embarrassing question but she needed to ask. “I didn’t mind playing with myself in front of the headmaster,” he added quietly, “But I liked it much better when you made me cum.”
“Uncle Don will keep that in mind. It sounds like that might be an excellent reward for when somebody has been a good girl.”
“Mmm,” Rebecca squirmed in her seat. “What does it mean to be a good girl?” She desperately wanted to be one.
“Good girls are attentive and responsive.” Don seemed to be smiling from his eyes. “And, of course, they are always obedient.”
“Do they get to go for rides in your car?” She asked while looking through the window at Don’s red convertible parked just outside.
“They might if they ask nicely.”
“Uncle Don,” Rebecca said dreamily, squirming into the back of her chair. “Will you take me for a ride in your car?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Rebecca slid onto the tan leather set while Don held the passenger door open for her. “Where are we going, uncle Don?” she cooed.
“First,” he looked at her and playfully shook his head. “I’m taking you shopping for some appropriate clothing.” He started the car. “No niece of mine dresses in blue jeans when she is with me.”
They strolled through the aisles of the department store together, Rebecca carrying the items that Don selected and handed to her: a light blue dress from the junior department, pretty lace knee socks and cute pink pumps. They last stop was the lingerie department. After Don asked, a bit louder than Rebecca would have liked, about her size she stood next to him with rosy cheeks while he selected a set of pastel colored cotton bikinis. “That should do it,” he announced as he placed the panties on top of the bundle she was carrying, and then guided her to the checkout.
“Shopping for your daughter?” the clerk innocently commented as she made the tally. Don, quite unaffected and calm, made small talk and paid while Rebecca felt a fiery blush explode across her entire face. Still, once they were back in car her embarrassment quickly gave way to excitement. They were going to Don’s house so she could model the purchase for him.
“Now, there’s my girl.” Don’s voice was filled with approval as Rebecca entered the living room where he was relaxed on the large black leather couch. She stood in front of him with her hands behind her back, gently swaying from side to side, thoroughly enjoying his ogling her. Nick never looked at her any more and it felt so good to be looked at. The bodice of the dress hugged her just enough to outline her breasts and allow a slight protrusion of nipple through the thin fabric, then flared out from a high waist to end six inches above her knees. Each sway flipped it up a couple of inches more.
“Show me your panties.”
She grinned, eagerly moving her hands to the hem while constantly watching Don’s delight, and teasingly raised the front of the dress until she was holding it completely up.
“I see you selected the blue.”
“I’m saving the white for my schoolgirl uniform,” she giggled, but remained still.
“The trouble is,” Don leaned forward and stroked the back of his right index finger against the cotton stretched against the moist mound between her legs, “They appear to be wet.” He looked up at her face. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to remove them and spank you, you naughty girl.”
Rebecca was trembling and panting as she desperately tried to remain still while Don pulled her panties down her legs. Thankfully, she was soon faced-down across his lap, making no attempt to conceal that she was on the verge of orgasm after only a few minutes of spanking. Don continued spanking her, however. Hard. All he had to do was to touch her just right, the way he had done before, but he kept on spanking her. Gasping, she tried to wriggle but his left hand on the back of her neck kept her pinned while he continued his ministrations to her almost unbearably hot buttocks. She had never been so close, but was unable to do a thing about it. Don had complete control. She closed her eyes to this realization and suddenly all that existed was the sound of his hand against her blazing flesh, incrementally riding her along an asymptote with each stroke: his to spank into infinity if he so desired. She understood. Her body relinquished the struggle and Don effortlessly slid two fingers into her, continuing to hold her down with his left hand as she screamed and bucked in uninhibited, ecstatic gyrations.
“Does this mean you’re agreeing to a spanking relationship with me, then?” Rebecca’s eyes were hopeful. Now dressed again, her still hot bottom encased in her blue jeans, and sitting with a cold drink in his kitchen, all she could think about was being able to come back and do this again.
“Perhaps.” Don smiled. “I’d very much like to, but there are two provisions that will have to be met. “He teased her with the pause. “But, of course, they are completely up to you. Number one, I want you completely shaved.”
“So I’ll look like a girl?” Rebecca had no problem with this at all. Most of the women she watched getting spanked on the internet were smooth but, until now, there had been no reason for going through the trouble. Nick wouldn’t care. He probably wouldn’t even notice.
“Because that is the look I want for Becky.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.” Doing what Don wanted was not only incredibly arousing but it also pleased her;
she still didn’t understand why, but it was a feeling she was beginning to reconcile with.
“Number two; you’ll be Becky both in name and action.” He raised his hand to cut off any words she was about to utter. “Don’t say anything now. I want you to go home and think about it, and then send me your answer via email.”
The question Rebecca had wanted to ask him was one of clarification. She suspected she knew what Don meant, but confirming the alternative meaning of Becky on the internet didn’t take away from her combination of shock and concern. She had no experience in this regard. Still, it would be Becky doing it, not her. Rebecca could never bring herself to such humiliation. It wasn’t something she even wanted for Becky, but she was compelled to admit that there was a certain degree of fairness to Don’s position. It was a clear case of quid-pro-quo. She thought about it during the night and the next morning sent Don a text to confirm that she understood what it was that he wanted and to determine how far Becky would have to go. “Will uncle want to cum in Becky’s mouth?” It might not be so bad if Becky didn’t have to perform to completion.
Don’s response was almost instant. “Yes.”
“Is he going to make her swallow?” Maybe she wouldn’t have to. She held the device in both hands awaiting the reply.
“That’s what good girls do with their favorite uncles.”
That afternoon Don received an email from a new sender. It was written in pink italics and a large, flowery font: “Hi Uncle Don. I’m so looking forward to being a good girl for you next Wednesday. Your niece, Becky.”
5. Chapter Five: Good Girl
Upon arriving at Don’s house Rebecca was instructed to go upstairs to the guest bedroom, told she could take whatever time was necessary to become Becky and to come down when she was ready. She eagerly stuffed all her jewelry in her purse, completely stripped and hung her Rebecca clothing and purse in the closet. It was such a relief to shut the closet door; both identity and responsibility disappeared with the click of the latch and she was now free to be Becky.
The outfit that Don had laid out for her on the bed was a schoolgirl uniform, but very different to Deborah’s old one that she had worn previously. This white blouse was made of thinner cotton and had no tails so it could not be tucked in and it was just long enough to reach to the waistband of the pleated, red plaid skirt. The skirt itself was considerably shorter, sixteen inches from waist to hem. White cotton bikini panties, green plaid knee socks and black buckle-up shoes completed the ensemble. Dressed, she admired herself in front of the full length mirror. There was no thought of Rebecca at all and it was pure Becky who subsequently descended the stairs, smiling at Uncle Don standing at the bottom and wondering if he was able to see up her skirt. Hoping he was looking.
“There you are, Becky.” Uncle wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and lightly pulled her to his chest in an affectionate hug. Head happily against this shoulder, she flitted her eyes up to look up at him. She was a girl again and it was indescribably wonderful.
“How would you like a milkshake?” Uncle Don asked.
“Strawberry?” she replied, excitedly.
“Strawberry it is!”
Becky followed her uncle into the kitchen and slid up onto one of the two stools at the tall table in front of the window, her right leg dangling teasingly as she watched him assemble the ingredients at the center island.
“Can I ask you a question, Uncle?” Beck asked coyly, her right leg swinging back and forth.
“Of course you may, Becky. I want you to feel free to ask me anything.”
“How come boys like to look up girl’s skirts?”
‘It’s just natural.”
“Do you like to?”
“I do when she is as pretty as you.” Uncle Don dolloped whipped cream onto each of the milkshakes, topped each with a maraschino cherry, inserted straws and served them with a flourish. Becky dove in at hers, sucking at the straw until she had drawn up a third of the milkshake, then eased back, picked up the cherry and popped it in her mouth. “Delicious milkshake, uncle,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Becky.” He chucked, in no way concealing that he was looking to the side of the table. “Tell me, do you like teasing boys by swinging your leg like that?”
“Kind of, yeah,” she slurped her milkshake and added, “But I don’t let them see my panties.”
“No?”
“Liz got caught showing Brian her panties and she was sent to the headmaster.” Becky took a noisy draught of her drink. “It got her a good spanking.”
“And rightfully so, that’s completely inappropriate behavior at school.” Uncle Don looked thoughtful as he drank, and then he began to reminisce, “When I was a boy at school in England we used to offer a girl half a crown to get her to lift up her skirt for us. That’s sort of like an American quarter.”
“Steve gave me a dollar,” Becky blurted out proudly, then slapped her hand across her mouth as Uncle Don gave her a look which made it unnecessary for him to utter a word.
“Umm, it was in the stairwell,” she explained, “No-one else saw.” She looked worried. “You won’t tell mom, will you?”
“What would she do?”
“Probably ground me for life.” She noisily slurped the last of her milkshake then swung both of her legs out toward the center of the room and slid her skirt a few inches up her thigh. “I’ll let you see my panties if you don’t tell her.”
Uncle Don reached his right hand across the table, hooked the fingers of her left hand and gently pulled her to her feet in front of him, then lifted up the front of her skirt. “I won’t tell her that you let me see your panties, Becky,” he said, visually examining her cotton triangle between her thighs. “But,” he dropped her skirt and looked into her eyes. “I’m not so sure about the incident with Steve. She really ought to know about that, you know.”
Becky’s eyes grew large and her mouth was stuck open as she inhaled through it. She had been tricked.
“Of course, I could always give you a spanking here, and then it would remain our secret. But that’s only if you want me to help you out.”
There was a surge of warmth between Becky’s legs. “Oh yes, please Uncle Don. Please, please let’s keep it our secret.” They had talked about secrets earlier.
“Then we had better go into the other room, we’ll be much more comfortable on the couch.” Uncle wrapped his right hand around her left wrist and led her down the hallway into the living room where he sat on the middle cushion and positioned Becky sideways on his lap. “Now then,” he said, “First, tell me about Steve.”
“Well, he’s a year ahead of me and he’s a really good student. He gets straight A’s, even in math.”
“And you like him?”
“Oh, yes.” Becky looked down shyly. “He’s very nice.”
Uncle Don picked up her chin in the crook of his right index finger. “And that’s the reason for letting him see up your skirt, then? Not the dollar?”
Becky vibrated her head up and down rather than answer. These questions made her feel so embarrassed but embarrassment in front of Uncle Don was an incredible turn on. Was it the scenario, his accent, a combination of the two or something else? She didn’t care. She simply leaned against him, nuzzling his shirt in an attempt to hide her smile while uncle gave her a knowing hug, his left arm protectively around her. The idea of secrets with uncle was so naughtily erotic; her panties were already soaked and he hadn’t even touched her.
Uncle Don kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I think you’d better stand up and show me just what you did with Steve,” then eased Becky to her feet facing him. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, uncle,” her immediate response came without thought. She looked down to see her hands had already clasped the front hem of her skirt, so she simply raised it until the damp front of her panties was completely exposed. There was the sudden realization that she really liked lifting up her skirt when he told her to.
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Uncle leaned back as he studied her deliciously long legs. “Now tell me, did Steve just look?”
Becky bit at her lower lip. The secret relationship she was to have with Uncle Don required her to always tell him the truth. “Well, he wanted to touch me.” Participating in this live story, saying these words, had turned her on more than she imagined possible.
“Like this?” Uncle leaned forward and brushed the back of his right index finger against her panties. The wet cotton pressed against her inflamed clitoris made her gasp audibly. He rested his finger against that perfect spot and looked up at her face. “Did you keep still when he pulled your panties down?”
“Yes...yes, please,” she murmured through her trembling lips. She desperately wanted him to see how smooth she was, how she had shaved herself for him, just for him, just because he had told her to. Becky’s profound desire for Uncle Don’s approval had her almost begging for him to do whatever he wanted, just so she could hear the pleasure in his voice. She eagerly stepped out of her wet panties after he took them to her ankles and stood proudly, legs apart and skirt held high, giving uncle the absolute freedom to study her twitching vulva. The tip of his right index finger gently assessing her softness combined with his single word, “nice,” pushed her over the edge. Her knees buckled but she slid into uncle’s waiting arms. She had the muscle tone of a rag doll and Uncle Don effortlessly positioned his niece face down, prone across his lap with her feet at one end of the couch and her head resting on a pillow at the other. Becky felt her skirt being picked up and laid it across her back, exposing the pale flesh of her bottom, and held onto the pillow with both hands in delighted anticipation. She was already so aroused. So wet. The first few slaps were warm-ups and it was the tenth before she began to feel the heat, but by the twentieth she was panting and trying to spread her legs so her clitoris could make contact with something firm.
