Carrot and Stic

Carrot and Stick.

Story Info

What to do with a wayward, spoiled, teenage, girl. A Stick? A Carrot?

By Nikki_Kernovii

Author's Note: Any mind that is still awake and working at 3:00 am can only be described as feverish. Having a chronic illness means that I spend too many 3:00 am's awake, watching the images in my fevered mind pass across the dark ceiling. Sometimes I can play a whole movie: scene by scene, word for word, other times I play a game of what if? What if this happened?

After a recent conversation this 'What if?' entertained my early morning darkness.

The characters and some of the behavior is real. The names... not so much.

The rest? Well, What if?

What was I to do?

I sat and stared at my niece, sitting on the sofa across from me and wondered. What was I to do?

Her eyes were blood-shot. She looked sleepy. Her homework was in the bag by the door, exactly where it had been when I left to go out.

I couldn't let such behavior slide by. Especially as this was not the first time.

I wasn't sure what my brother would say or do, if anything.

I sighed. "Cheryl. I am afraid that I cannot let such behavior go without some comment. I DID NOT give you permission to help yourself to my alcohol stores. I know you are eighteen, and can legally drink. But you are supposed to be a responsible adult. You were supposed to be responsible for my family. You are supposed to be old enough to know to ask, before helping yourself to other people's stuff. You are here to look after my children, care for my house, do your studies. Studies that, my brother tells me, where you are already behind at college. I am so very disappointed in you. And I am sure that this is not the first time. Just that this time I took more notice."

"I...I, " She started to say.

"There is no point denying it Cheryl. I can see the levels in at least two bottles have gone down. The vodka by a large amount. The whisky, maybe less so. But that 25 year old Glen Farclas is £80 a bottle. It is not to be chugged. Gods! I can smell it on your breath. I really thought that I could trust you. I thought you were glad of the extra money." I sighed again.

"I am. I'm sorry David. I didn't mean to. It's been a shitty week."

"I understand. I have shitty weeks as well. But that behavior is not the answer. If I am to let you babysit in the future, and part with my hard-earned cash, I have to know that I can trust you. I'm going to have to talk to my brother about this."

"No. Please Uncle David. No. Please. I'm in enough trouble as it is. Please don't tell him." She pleaded, sliding forward on the sofa. Her skirt, already short and baring a lot of shapely leg, revealed even more. She wasn't wearing any underwear.

Niece or no niece, that was distracting. Actually though, she was the daughter of my older brother's second wife, after his first wife ran off with a younger man. So not a blood related niece. But still! I was troubled by where my thoughts were going.

I had had a good night out. It had been my second date with a lovely lady from the office, and the start of what I hoped would be a good relationship. A nice date. Lots of talking and getting to know each other better. But we were both taking things slowly, so I had not gone back to her place, though gods alone knew I had wanted to.

"Cheryl. Let me make something very clear. Do you want to babysit for me? Do you want the money?"

"Yes Uncle David." She said softly.

"If I am not to tell my brother, then I must punish you myself. And it will have to mean something to make it effective. I am not going to withhold the money. I understand that you need that. But maybe something else."

"Yes Uncle David. Whatever... But please, please don't tell my dad. Please. Or Mum. Pleeeaaassse."

"OK." I stood and left the room, only to return a moment later.

"Jesus H fucking christ. What the hell are those?" Cheryl asked, aghast. As well she might.

"Language. Young lady." I reprimanded. "This..." I held the first item up. "Is a leather tawse. This.. " I held the second item out. "Is a rattan cane. Items used to be common discipline methods, in schools, back in the day. Before they were banned. Today I am going to use the Tawse. You will lay across the arm of the chair, and I am going to spank you twelve times. It is going to hurt. However, it will hurt less than If I use the cane. I use that, and you won't be sitting down for a week. Either that or I have a long talk with my brother and I stop trusting you to babysit." I hesitated waving both items in the air.

Cherly's eyes were watching the tawse and cane swing back and forth, mesmerized by the motion, or maybe the articles themselves.

"Oh.... Okay. Ermmm. Ok." She was hesitant. But I could see that she had already surrendered.

I pointed to the arm of my favorite armchair by the fire place.

"Now young lady." I said, sternly.

Slowly Cheryl rose from the sofa and moved towards the armchair. I kind of guessed why she was hesitating. As she bent, she knew and I knew, that her naked bottom would be on display.

Well, it was her choice. I might have to comment about that later.

"Right over." I said.

She bent down to place her head on the seat.

"Hands in front of you. And don't move." I commanded.

She put her hands to her head.

I moved to stand where I could get a good swing at her rear. Gods and what a gorgeous rear.

I knew it had looked good in clothes. It looked super soft and squishy, as she clenched and relaxed her butt muscles in her anticipation.

Took after her mother - Gillian. She too had a nice-looking rear. Actually, she was not a bad looking lady. She didn't have the bleach, blonde, hair and pneumatic tits of my brother's first wife. That one had been a bit of a ditzy, Essex girl. But my brother Alan had always been more of a breast man. I had always been more of a legs and ass man myself. My late wife was definitely more of the legs and ass type girl.

I had used both the tawse and the cane on her on a few occasions. The tawse more than the cane, we had agreed. The cane really left marks. The tawse could be used to good effect. Either as a tool of punishment, which truly, was not often. But it could also be a tool of arousal, which we both enjoyed.

The tawse and cane had sat unused for over a year, since my wife had lost her life to her breast cancer.

I gulped and wiped away the tears of memory.

I needed to be here and now.

I swung the tawse in the air a couple of times, eliciting a satisfying swish. Cheryl clenched her butt cheeks, making the spongy flesh quiver in a delightful manner. I could enjoy that on its own.

What fun.

The first blow brought a loud gasp from Cheryl's lips.

Even though I struck high, and most of her bottom was still covered by the short, black, skirt, a red line soon appeared, peeking out under the hem.

For the second blow I tried to aim for a different spot. That one covered more of her naked butt cheeks. Her skirt rose slightly. I could see her naked vulva peeking between her thighs.

Shaved. At her age? I did have to wonder about her life style.

Was this common these days? Maybe it was a different time with different fashions.

On the third stroke, Cheryl gave out a distinct "Oooowwweee"

By the fourth she was shaking and clinging to the chair cushion to hold her hands in place.

The fifth and sixth blows I delivered quickly. I was worried that she might try to move out of the way. I was also worried about my own arousal. I had not expected to be quite so taken by her hot, red, rear.

Seventh blow. "Ow, ow, ow."

Eighth blow. She was defiantly crying now.

Nine and ten came quick and hard. Her bottom was jiggling all on its own with each blow.

"Stop. Please stop. I can't take anymore." Cheryl was shaking.

"Stay still. Two more."

I didn't let her have a chance and let the last two come fast, but maybe not so hard.

"Stand up." I ordered. More for my sake than for hers.

I held the tawse down to hide my erection, poking hard at the front of my chinos.

Even in struggling off the armchair, Cheryl managed to ruck the skirt right up to her waist.

Gods what a lovely red, round, bottom.

I looked away quickly.

To calm down, I left the room, returned the cane and tawse to their hiding place at the back of a cupboard. When I returned to the living room, Cheryl was standing in the middle, one hand rubbing her rear, the other brushing the tears from her damp cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Uncle David. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." She sniffed.

"OK. I believe you. Now you better go to the bathroom and wash your face before you go home."

Cheryl rushed from the room.

I flopped in the chair and took a deep breath.

What had I done?

How would this change the relationship?

Cheryl returned with a cleaner face, but still downcast and sniffing.

"Uncle David, can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why have you got those things?" She asked. She blushed deeply.

I should have expected the question.

"My late wife and I played with them occasionally. If you must know, tonight is one of the very few times I've really used that tawse in anger. We used them more for fun. And before you ask, I will never ever use them on my children. Understand?"

"Sort of. I'm not sure I understand the fun part. My bum hurts something terrible."

"You'll recover soon enough. Now. You better get home, and promise me that tomorrow you will knuckle down and get some college work done. Ok."

"Yes Uncle David. I am sorry. Will you still let me babysit?"

"Yes. We are quits now. If you are free, I will ask. I'm hoping to see Isabel again in a few days. I'll let you know."

"Ok. Thanks. Maybe we can talk and you can tell me about her. And... And..." She said, but trailed off as if there was something on her mind.

"And what?"

"I... I have some questions. If you are OK talking." She asked hesitantly.

"You can ask. Whether I answer is a different matter. I'll try to make some time next time you come round. Now scoot. You're going to be late."

Cheryl grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

I couldn't drive her home and leave the children in the house alone, obviously. That was why I had a babysitter. And my brother's house was only at the other end of the village. Maybe a mile away. But along the main street and it was fairly well lit. There would be other people about. She would be safe.

It took me a few minutes to lock up and turn out the lights before I could head to the bathroom and jack off. I really needed that. What a horny evening.

I chatted with Isabel regularly. And we did go out together. Things were certainly improving. She was still scarred by her first husband who had been quite abusive, so wanted to be safe with me. I guessed that it might mean I would never get to spank her. But I could resign myself to that.

I guess? Maybe.

When I returned home, Cheryl had her books all over the sofa and coffee table. I gave a quick check to my bottles and could see the levels had not moved from the tiny notches I had cut on the side of the labels.

Maybe Cheryl had learned her lesson.

I hoped so.

And so it was for the next two occasions that I went out and Cheryl babysat.

And then there was the third time.

I was a bit later than usual. I had gone back to Isabel's house after our dinner at her favorite restaurant. Only to talk and cuddle. She had made it clear before, that she was still not ready for sex, though we had talked about it.

When I returned home Cheryl was not in the living room.

Following the noises I found her upstairs cleaning up.

"Oh hi, Uncle David. I'm afraid Jamie has been sick." She looked up at me, but quickly returned to mopping up the mess on the floor.

Some of the sick stains looked dry. Jamie must have been ill some hours before, though he looked like he was sleeping alright now.

When I put a hand to his forehead, he felt normal, so I was not worried about fever. I checked Nathan he too was normal and fast asleep.

By then Cheryl had taken the cloths and buckets back to the utility sink. Nothing more to be done, though it meant that I would have to hold Jamie back from the child minder the next day and work from home. But that was not an issue.

A quick check in the living room told me that Cheryl had been at my vodka again.

I thought I could trust her.

I sat and waited for her to finish cleaning up and return to the living room.

We talked for a few moments about the boys, then I brought up the issue of the missing Vodka.

"But... But.. It wasn't me." Cheryl said. Blushing furiously.

"Don't lie to me Cheryl. The level in the bottle has dropped this evening. I checked. I thought we had a deal. I thought I could trust you. Have you forgotten the spanking? DO I need to get the cane?"

With that comment, her blush disappeared and she almost went white.

"N... N... No. Please No. Can't you just use the Tawse like last time?"

Hmmm. That was an odd comment.

"You want the Tawse?"

She blushed. She really did.

"You like the Tawse?"

Cheryl tried to shake her head, but there was an almost imperceptible nod.

She was admitting that she liked it.

Oh Gods! What had I done.

"Tell me about it?" I said. "How did you find out you liked it?"

She didn't answer.

"Ok. I'm going to be blunt. Did you find yourself sexually excited?"

She tried not to show, but the tiny nod gave her away.

"So you went home and found you were wet. I was about to say in your knickers, but we both know that you weren't wearing any. Which, I might add is a bit of a slutty thing to do. So, you found that your pussy was wet and when you got home you masturbated. Am I right?"

She was blushing so hard I thought she was going to burst a blood vessel.

"I can see that I'm correct. So now you know how my late wife felt. She found having a hot bottom was arousing. So did I. It is not so unusual. So did you misbehave this evening deliberately, hoping that I would spank you again?"

There was that tiny nod of her head.

Well that ruled out spanking as a punishment.

So much for the Stick. What about a carrot?

Yeah? Where to begin?

But then a thought occurred to me.

"Cheryl, can I assume that you are not a virgin?" I asked quietly, choosing my words carefully.

"What? Uncle how can.... "

"Just answer me." I said.

She was silent, but shook her head.

"If that was a typical teenage romp, then it was over too quickly. He got off, but you probably didn't. Then he boasted about it to his mates in college. Or something like that."

"Yeah pretty much." She admitted quietly. Blushing again.

"I am going to think about what to do with you. You have shown that you are, to some degree trainable. You have been well behaved for these last two weeks. However, I will not use the Tawse on this occasion."

She looked disappointed.

"Go home. Now. I will call you and you will come round here and we will talk and sort this out between us. OK?"

She nodded. Then picked up her bag and shuffled slowly from the room.

I checked on the twins, then went to my study to plan my carrot.

It was a late night.

The next day was a Friday, so I had no problem phoning in and telling my boss I was working from home.

I told the child minder about Jamie. Although there had been no more sickness, he was dull and listless. So, I kept him home, but let Nathan go to play with his mates at the child minders.

In between doing some actual work, I did manage to get some more preparation done.

Then in the late afternoon, I called my brother.

We chatted for a while. I asked about his new wife and how things were. I asked about how Cheryl was doing and the usual chit-chat. Then I asked if I could speak to Cheryl.

I didn't ask her. I didn't ask if she was going out with friends for a Friday night.

I simply said. "Be here at seven o'clock tonight. Or else." Then put the phone down before she could ask questions or object.

That would show me where we stood.

Would she turn up?

I was pretty sure she would.

I fed and bathed the boys and got them off to bed.

I ate a quick dinner, myself, then finished my preparations.

At seven O'clock Cheryl arrived.

Her Blouse was almost see-through, and unbuttoned enough to show a black lacy half-bra, that did nothing to support her ample tits.

Nice. But I was not going to be distracted.

A short red skirt above, what I already guessed where, stockings. Actual stockings.

She had thought about this.

She was about to find out where that led.

"Cheryl. You and I have some unfinished business." I said.

"Yes." She replied. Obvious hope in her voice.

"I've thought about this and I am going to do something pretty extreme. I am going to use and carrot and stick approach to your discipline. Right now make a discission. Stay or go."

"I'll stay uncle David."

"Ok,. Your choice. Remember. Everything that happens for the rest of this evening is going to be your choice. I want you to learn. Something anyway."

"Yes Uncle David." She sounded waaay too eager.

I pulled a blindfold out of my pocket.

"I'm going to put this on you for two reasons. One, so that you cannot see the mess in my study. And two, because I don't want you to see and anticipate anything. Wait and experience what is happening, as it happens."

She hesitated a bit before nodding her head.

I fixed the blindfold in place. I made sure that she could not see, then led her into my study.

A very much changed, re-arranged, and messy study.

I led her to my make-shift bondage frame. Very DIY hashup, held in place by clamps and rope.

I hoped that it would survive.

I cuffed Cheryl's hands and clipped them to cup hooks strategically placed at the top of the wooden beam. I did the same to her ankles at the bottom. Effectively spreading her out in a classic 'X'

Just seeing that pose I found arousing. I hadn't had my wife like that in years. It had been fun in the early days of our marriage, but had been dropped as we got busy and less inclined to play and experiment.

I could reach around in front of Cheryl to unbutton her blouse. Once it was loose, I undid her bra and rolled them out of the way to expose her breasts. I attached suction cups that pulled at her nipples and breasts. Once they were pulled tightly into the cups and distended, I turned the pump off.

I could hear Cheryl already breathing heavier.

So far so good.

Next was to roll up her skirt to her waist.

She was indeed wearing stockings and a black, lacy, suspender belt. Very Nice.

Her knickers, if such they were, consisted of a micro, ever-so-tiny, black lace thong.

Ridiculous. It did nothing. Purely for show.

All the time Cheryl was asking "W...what's going on? What are you doing."

By the third time I had had enough, so picked up the 'Wiffle-Ball' gag from my desk.

This not only stopped her from interrupting, but would keep her from screaming too loudly later on. I had no doubt that she would be screaming.

Now for my piece-de-resistance. My special toy. Well, Ok. It was a couple of toys that I had cobbled together.

I placed the upright metal rod between Cheryl's spread legs. The silicon dildo on the top already had a condom fitted and lubricated.

I adjusted the height until it just poked between Cheryl's already-wet, labia. I ran the motor very slowly to watch the dildo disappear inside her and then back down again. I wanted to make sure the angle and thrust vectors were correct.

I could here her moaning through the gag.

Perfect.

The second Item was a rotating drum with one of my leather floggers attached. This had been a waste of money. I had used it once, many years ago. And never again. The drum was ripped from an old washing machine motor.

I turned both the controllers on, and adjusted them until they were synchronized. Just as the flogger whipped round and struck Cheryl's, pert naked bottom. The dildo would thrust up inside her.