STORY: Her Uncle's Sex Slave - M/f, BDSM, INCEST, NC
John Simmons
an attempt to teach her discipline. But Uncle James has a much more
severe discipline in mind than her parents had ever contemplated. And
much more ancient notions of the proper role of the female than that of
modern society. Women were born to serve men in all things, and that is
what he will teach his young niece, even if he must break her utterly.
The door opened and she blinked at the size of the man there.
“James,” her father said, greeting him gladly and shaking hands.
Her Uncle James was well over six feet tall, broad shouldered, and
heavily bearded. Jill looked up at him doubtfully, licking her lips and
almost venturing a little smile of greeting. But then she restrained
herself, falling back into her slouch and look of unconcern, putting on
a little pouty look as she looked carelessly about.
“This is Gillian,” her father said.
Jill looked at him scornfully, and with some approval noted her
Uncle James do the same.
“How do you do,” her Uncle James said.
“Okay,” she said, casually shrugging.
His face was cool, but - did she catch something in his eyes there?
Perhaps, she thought a tad smugly, he had not been aware of how much she
had grown in the six years since he had seen her. Not grown up, she
thought unhappily, for she remained five feet high, but grown nonetheless.
He showed her and her father around the house, and she was
impressed, though she did not, of course, show it. The house was very
masculine, but richly decorated, and the grounds were fabulous. The big
pool out back with the waterfall had her itching to sunbathe, though she
would have to wait until he was out somewhere to do it in the nude.
Her father seemed eager to leave, and she was just as glad to have
him gone, and have those eyes stop swerving back and forth to avoid
looking at her. And then he was gone and she was alone with Uncle James,
and thought once again that she saw a flicker behind those cool eyes.
“Well ah, I guess I’ll go up to my room,” she said.
“Not so fast,” he said. “I think I had best apprise you of the
rules around here first.”
Naturally, Jill reverted to her tough persona. She sighed, rolled
her eyes, and slumped back in teenage disrespect.
“Have you ever been in the U.K. before?”
“No.”
“Here in the U.K. we tend to believe that sparing the rod spoils
the child.”
“What?” she asked in confusion.
“Corporal punishment is something you need to bear in mind.”
Her face took on a look of amused disbelief. “Corporal punishment!?
What, are you gonna spank me or something!?”
She laughed in contemptuous delight.
“If you act like a child you shall be treated like one,” he replied
calmly.
“Yeah, I bet you’d love to spank me,” she taunted, looking for that
flicker in his eyes again.
Was she locked in with a perve? The idea worried her only a little.
He was, after all, her uncle, and so there was no danger from him.
“I think you’re a bit old for a spanking,” he replied.
“Don’t be so sure,” she teased, feeling more confidence now.
“However, a woman is never too old for a strapping.”
She rolled her eyes and gave a little laugh.
“You think I’m joking?” he asked softly. “You should have talked to
your father. He would have told you I have absolutely no sense of humour.”
She frowned up at him doubtfully.
“While you are under my roof, you will not use obscene language.
You will study your lessons every day, and I will assist you to ensure
you do not fall even further behind in your education than you already
have.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“You will also dress as a young woman ought to, and not in the
revealing clothing I have been informed is your current habit.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she blurted in amazement.
“No, and to show you have serious I am... “
He reached for her, and her hand rose to fend him off. He simply
gripped her wrist and yanked her back.
“Hey!”
He pulled her hard, swung her about, and fell back into a nearby
high-backed chair, pulling her with her so she fell belly-down across
his lap.
“Let me go! Are you crazy! Let go of me!” she screamed.
There was no buzz to her mind now, and she squealed and twisted as
she felt his hands grip the back of her low slung trousers and yank them
down. She squealed in shock and embarrassment, grasping at them as she
felt the tight waistband sliding over her hips, and squeezing down her
plump buttocks as Uncle James forced them lower. They pulled at her thin
silky thong as they went, and she felt that going with them until they
were down past her thighs.
She felt a sudden blaze of shocked embarrassment knowing her bottom
was now bare to this almost complete stranger, and struggled wildly in
his grip as her face reddened.
“You pervert bastard! I’m gonna have you arrested!” she screamed
furiously.
“You were warned about language,” he said calmly.
She cried out as his hand cracked down against her wriggling bottom
and stinging pain snapped at her. She cursed, her hands shooting back,
trying to interpose themselves before the next blow. But she felt her
wrists taken in an iron grip and suddenly they were pinned together at
the small of her back in one big hand.
“Don’t!” she cried helplessly, heart pounding, pulse racing.
She saw him reach down to his belt and undo it, and for a moment
knew a surge of fear that he would rape her. But then he simply doubled
the thin leather belt in his hand, and her fear took another direction.
The belt slashed down against her bottom and she screamed at the
intensity of the stinging pain, kicking her legs feebly and writhing
from side to side. Again the belt cracked down, and now began to strike
her steadily, a sharp, repetitive stinging that seemed to grow worse
with each additional blow.
Jill was frantic, still deeply embarrassed at his view of her bare
bottom - and whatever else he could see from his angle, and now twisting
desperately against the pain being inflicted on her. She was trying to
keep her thighs tightly clenched together and twisting from side to
side, and her hips half fell off her lap.
She gasped, eyes bulging as she felt a big hand grasp her inner
thigh so high up that the edge was pushed firmly against her sex, and
lift her back into position firmly across his lap. New humiliation
flooded her, even as she tried to shakily assure herself his touch there
had been accidental.
“Stop squirming, Gillian. You won’t avoid your punishment,” he said.
More blows landed, and she cursed in pained frustration, which in
turn brought more blows. She was utterly helpless to avoid the strap,
and her eyes filled with tears of rage, frustration and pain as the
steady Crack! Crack! Crack! of the belt echoed around the room.
“Please!” she cried, embarrassed by the desperate plea even as she
vocalized it.
She was a tough girl, after all. The image she had created for
herself should have had her calmly, sneeringly accepting his strapping.
And yet never before had she imagined the pain from such a thing would
be so sharp, so stinging. Her bottom glowed with the heat of pain, and
each new blow sent the heat higher.
The blows halted, and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing, her
chest rising and falling furiously, her breath ragged.
“Now perhaps you will understand that when I say there will be no
foul language I mean it. Perhaps you will begin to get a taste of real
discipline,” he said.
Oh how she hated his smug, condescending words! She was an adult!
He had no right, no right to treat her like this!
He released her wrists and she tumbled off his lap, immediately
reaching down for her trousers and yanking them up even as she lay on
the floor. She twisted and jumped to her feet, then ran for the stairs,
still fighting back tears of rage and humiliation.
“Bastard!” she screamed as she hurried up the stairs.
She rushed up the stairs and into the room he had shown as hers,
slamming it furiously behind. Her bottom hurt terribly and she moaned,
rubbing at her teary eyes as she touched her bottom and winced. She
locked the door, then stripped off her pants, backing against a mirror
and turning her head to see her reddened buttocks.
It was not so bad as she had feared, she thought, rubbing at tears
again. That miserable bastard! When she told her father - but no, she
could not do that, she realized with a sudden miserable understanding.
It would be just as humiliating to have to tell her father that Uncle
James had strapped her bare bottom as it would have been to have
admitted she had been gang raped.
And there was absolutely no guarantee he would share her outrage.
He had made clear his anger at her misbehaviour for many years. He must
know what Uncle James was like, and had told her many times that she
would not be able to fool around with him as she had at home, that he
was a stern man who believed in discipline. He would probably tell her
she deserved it!
“Fucking bastard!” she cried in rage, trembling fingers moving
lightly on her throbbing bottom.
And then the door, the locked door, opened, and Uncle James strode in.
Jill gasped in shock, whirling away and trying to yank up her
trousers even as he stalked towards her. Panic hit her suddenly and her
fingers scrabbled at the floor as he loomed over head. He reached down,
grasping the bottom of her trousers, and yanked. She cried out as she
was upended, her legs flying upwards as her trousers slid down their
length, and then off entirely.
Her legs dropped back to the floor, and she scrambled desperately
towards the bed, trying to crawl beneath. But a huge hand grasped her by
the hair and she screamed as she was yanked up and back, forced to her
knees and then her feet. Her hand shot up and back to his wrist, trying
to ease his grip and were captured and pinned together behind her neck,
her head forced back.
“I told you that there would be no use of foul language,” he said
calmly, as if she were not standing there wearing just a tank top.
“Let me go! Let me go!’ she gasped, twisting frantically.
“Now you have a choice, Gillian. Are you listening to me?”
He forced her head back farther and she gasped in pain.
“Yes! Yes!”
Clearly you must be punished for this new breach...”
“No! I didn’t mean it! I forgot!” she cried.
“Your choice is to bend over and take your punishment in a
forthright and obedient manner, or be held in place for twice as many
blows. Which would you prefer?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” she cried again.
“That is irrelevant. The purpose of discipline is to ensure that
you gain some measure of control over your future actions. Now do you
want ten blows or twenty?”
“T-ten,” she whimpered.
“Very well then. You will stop fighting and take it properly,
accepting that you deserve the punishment you are receiving.”
He dragged her over to a narrow desk and then shoved her belly down
across the back of a chair which was pushed into it. This served to
further elevate her bottom, and she cringed in near hysteria at the view
this would present to him.
“I will release you, and you will hold yourself ready for
punishment,” he said.
He let go of her wrists and she moaned, starting to rise, then
halting. Her lower lips trembled and her heart pounded. Sweat stood out
on her forehead and between her breasts, and she was acutely, terribly
aware of the view of her bottom and sex he had. She tried to keep her
thighs tightly clenched
She turned her head, though she could not bear to meet his eyes,
and saw that he had, not a strap or belt, but a long, thin, flexible
stick or switch of some kind.
He drew it back, and she clenched her jaw, burying her head in her
hands. She heard the sound of the stick as it cut through the air and
then the loud, sharp Crack! as it struck her upraised bottom.
The pain was shocking, far worse than the strap, and she screamed,
tears forced from her eyes now as she twisted up and away. He reached
for her and she twisted away, trying to dart for the door. He grasped
her tank top from behind, and as she tried to twist away it was forced
up over her head. She fell to the floor, shocked into new embarrassment
now as she realized she was now entirely naked, her breasts exposed.
She clamped her arms over her breasts, springing up and trying to
run, but again screamed as he grasped her hair from behind.
Instinctively, as before, the pain brought her hands shooting up and
back, and, as before, he quickly grasped them, pinned her thin wrists
together, and forced them back behind her neck. This forced her head
back and her back to arch, and she sobbed as he turned her around so
that her nudity faced him fully.
“English children have been punished in this manner for
generations,” he said contemptuously. “I will not tolerate your hysterics.”
“Let me go! Let me go!’ she screamed, her voice breaking now as
sobs wracked her body.
“You will now be given twenty blows instead of ten. The more you
struggle the harsher will be your punishment.”
He turned her body away from him, and she was flooded with relief
that his eyes were no longer on her bare breasts and sex, but then she
felt a thin strap go around her right wrist, then her left, and felt it
pulled tight. He pushed her against the chair once again, bending her
forward, then forced her hands up and forward, reaching across the desk
to the wall behind it. There was a pipe there, and he wrapped the strap
around that and tied it.
Jill found that her wrists were tightly bound, and moaned as her
breasts pressed down against the desk and pillowed out beneath her. Her
bottom was further raised up over the high back of the chair, and she
saw him stand back and raise the stick once again. She could not bring
herself to speak, and turned her head down, sobbing, humliated.
Crack!
“Owww!” she screamed.
The pain was even worse than the first one, and she twisted
frantically, kicking out at him instinctively.
He paused, and then bent, and she felt her ankle grasped and pulled
wide, another lace or strap wrapped around it and binding it to the left
of the desk. Her right ankle was then lifted and spread and bound to the
right leg of the table. With her legs spread open and her bottom raised
she knew an even deeper, more terrible sense of humiliation, for her sex
would be extremely visible to him, this big, older male who stood behind
her.
It was impossible to ignore that, even as the stick slashed across
her bottom again and the pain ripped into her. Her sex felt as though it
gaped, terribly vulnerable and bare. She had recently shaved her pubic
region in order to fit more easily into the thin, slinky thongs and
G-strings she liked to wear, and only a thin strip of pale blonde hair
was present to hide her tight, bare little slit.
Crack!
“Stop it! No! That hurts!” she cried.
“That is the idea, young lady,” he said.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Tears flooded her eyes and spilled out onto the table, and her body
jerked and twisted to the blows. The pain was jagged, shocking and
sharp, and she cried out again and again as the switch cut across her
upraised buttocks.
Never had she felt so mortified and helpless and shamed as the
blows continued to land. The pain was terrible and intense, but not so
badly as the terrible shame. Her self image as a tough girl, mocking
those who were unhappy with her, was shattered as tears continued to
spill from her eyes and her uncle continued to bring his switch down
across her aching bottom.
“Stop it! Please! I’m sorry!” she said, her voice breaking.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
“I won’t curse again! Oww! Please! Don’t! I’m sorry!”
Her voice broke into sobs now, as the pale ivory flesh of her
buttocks turned from pink to red. And surely, surely he must stop, and
yet he did not.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Gillian was no longer begging, but merely sobbing powerfully, the
sobs shaking her body and interrupted only by cries of fresh pain as
each new blow landed.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
He halted, and she continued to sob.
“Are you sorry for your foul language?” he asked calmly.
She continued to sob and he brought his open hand down hard against
her red bottom.
“I asked you a question.”
“Yes,” she said, stretching the word out into half a dozen sobbing
syllables.
“Then say it.”
“I’m s-s-s-sorry,” she sobbed.
“For what?”
Her sobs were easing, but continued, and he slapped his hand down
across her bottom once more.
“What are you sorry for?” he asked.
“F-for c-c-cursing,” she moaned.
“For using foul language?”
“Y-y-yes.”
“Then say so. At once, if you please.”
She moaned and sobbed, and she felt the thin wood smack down
sharply across her aching bottom.
“I’m s-sorry f-for using f-foul language!’ she half sobbed, half cried.
“And you promise not to do it again.”
. She repeated the words he had required of her, stuttering and
sobbing as she stood sternly behind and looked down.
“And you will comport yourself as a proper young lady from this
point no,” he said, giving her bottom a little squeeze.
She dutifully repeated his words, stuttering, sniffling and
whimpering through them.
“And you will stop dressing like a slut, and war the clothing I
choose for you.”
“Please,” she moaned.
The switch cracked down on her bottom and her tears spilled afresh.
“You will make that promise,” he said.
“I promise!” she wailed.
“You are here to learn discipline, Gillian, and I will ensure you
do so. As nothing else has had any impact on your we will see if
corporal punishment succeeds where all else has failed. I shall expect
you to behave politely, and with modesty at all times. Any deviation
from the rules I set will draw a strapping, a caning, or worse.”
She felt the stick slide between her thighs and push up against her
displayed sex, and gasped, trembling, teary eyes widening.
“I have heard stories from your parents about your slatternly
ways,” he said.
The edge of the stick pushed up harder and her jaw clenched as she
trembled.
“You will not be permitted beyond the fence until I am assured you
will not be throwing yourself at the nearest male you encounter. I
understand the lust which grips young females, but you will learn to
control it.”
The stick seemed to be sawing back and forth along her slit now,
even pushing up hard enough to sink between her pubic lips.
“You are an attractive female in breeding age, with good hips and
breasts,” he said. “Naturally any man who encounters you will wish to
breed you. It is up to you to show the strength of character necessary
to resist such advances. You do not help this cause by dressing in a
sluttish manner, in tight, revealing clothing.”
He turned away and moved to her suitcases, then opened them and
began to rummage through the thin silk and lace thongs, bras, and
G-strings, frowning and glaring at her as he did so.
He turned to her tank tops, midriff baring shirts, her tight, low
slung jeans and trousers, shaking his head in disapproval. “My brother
should have known better than to let you wear such sluttish clothing,”
he said. “Wearing these is nothing more than a sign to every male who
sees you that you’re ready and willing to be bred.”
He closed the suitcases, picked them up, and walked from the room,
leaving her alone and bound to the desk, still sniffling and trembling,
her bottom glowing with pain.
She was alone for at least fifteen or twenty minutes, long enough
to gain control of herself and halt her tears, long enough to begin to
twist against the straps binding her, and to wonder how long he would
leave her bound in such an obscene, revealing, vulnerable position. Long
enough for her to ponder dazedly on the sexuality of her position, and
to feel a new sense of shame - and, oddly, a strange, dark little sense
of awe and excitement.
He returned and her embarrassment flared as he walked across the
room to her, holding a bundle of clothing.
“These belonged to my Aunt,” he said, setting them down on the desk
beside her.
“They are somewhat old, but still clean, and can be made cleaner.
It will do for clothing until I can purchase you something new and
decent to replace your old clothing. You will have a new wardrobe and a
new attitude. I shall see to that, young Gillian.”
He knelt behind her, and in the midst of her misery Jill realized
that his face would be but inches from her nakedly displayed sex. New
shame rose, and with it more of that dark, nasty sort of awe.
She felt the straps unbound from her ankles, and quickly closed her
legs as he rose. He bent over her, and she felt his groin pressing into
her naked bottom, again wondering dazedly if he meant anything by it,
but telling herself that of course he didn’t. Did he?
He untied her wrists and pulled back, and she twisted away,
grasping at the bundle of clothing and trying to hide herself behind it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the book: Uncle's Sex Slave, by Argus
Argus erotic books have been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon,
Star, Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks are available at
http://www.ebookblue.com
Come and see our free bondage drawing galleries