Tilly liked me swinging her from the front, by pushing on her feet, and I liked doing it, because I could see her laughing face, and we could talk. Today, though, she was wearing a short-skirted jumper, and when she got going, she spread her legs to show me she wasn't wearing any panties, and laughed at my slack jaw. The next swing, her feet were together.

"Catch me, Onkie!"

Well, not 'Uncle', really, just the handyman who'd been doing this and that for the charming lovelies since they'd moved in down the cul-de-sack a few months ago. The little one had taken a bit of a shine to me, constantly underfoot. Pestering brat that she was, I was pretty taken with her as well.

"Catch me!"

I was supposed to grab her ankles, hoist her up over my head, and let her dangle for a moment before releasing her.

Instead, I pulled her legs apart and set her ankles on my shoulders.

"Interesting view. Hey, Pam! Come look at this!"

Tilly twisted in the swing, trying to break loose.

"Mom! Make him let me go! I wanna swing!"

Twenty one year old Pam wasn't Tilly's mother, either. The details were complicated (unknown father, mother OD'd), but Pam had ended up with court-ordered custody of her cousin, full adoption. They'd been close all Tilly's life; Pam had cared for the girl more than her real mother had. "Mom" had been her nickname for years. But in fact, they were more like sisters. The decrepit little cottage at the end of the cul-de-sac was a family heirloom of sorts, along with a trust fund for maintenance. Tilly's mother had not used the proceeds from the fund wisely.

Now, Pam looked annoyed that I'd disturbed her studies, art history, I believe.

"Yeah, yeah. Very exciting. Seen that trick before."

"Pam. Seriously. You need to come over and see this."

She sighed theatrically and got up.

"What."

"Look where I'm looking."

"Tilly! What have I told you about wearing panties?"

"That they should go with the skirt?" She was fidgeting; it was kinda uncomfortable, even scary being held up for so long. And she hadn't thought I'd show anybody else what she'd shown me, that was clear.

"That we wear them in public and around company!"

Tilly was sullen. She was supposed to be having fun! And I'd ratted her out to Pam!

"I forgot."

Defeated by this logic, Pam turned to me. "I'm sorry to pester you with this..."

"You're not the pest."

" ... But would you haul her inside so she can finish getting dressed?"

"Sure. C'mon, twerp, dismount."

We'd practiced this move. I turned my back to Tilly and hooked her knees over my shoulders. I walked as far from the swing as I could get, and Tilly slid off the seat onto my back. Usually, I'd stoop over and pull her up to sit on my shoulders, but this time I just let her hang there by one leg, like the sack of spoiled rotten trouble she was. Her usual snort and giggle turned to panic.

"PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN!"

"Brian, you goober." said Pam.

"What?"

"What do you think happens to short skirts when you hang bad little girls with no panties on upside down?" Pam slid open the patio door and I stepped inside.

"Uhh ... Gosh, I dunno. Let me check."

I swung Tilly around to dangle her in front of me. Charming. A perfectly charming cleft, barely visible majora, and a burgeoning mons sprouting soft black fur.

I frowned and shook my head.

"Tsk tsk. It's a kitty. A bad, bad, little kitty. Probably needs to be spanked, don't you think, Pam?"

"Mom! Don't let him ... Mom! MOM!"

I lugged her into Pam's bedroom.

"Starfish," I ordered. This too was a well-oiled maneuver. I grabbed an arm and swung my burden around in a circle, once, twice, and tossed it on the bed. She tried to escape, but I pinned her face down, and took a couple of idle swipes at her bottom, with very satisfying results, even through the skirt.

Pam had followed us in. "Did you know, Brian, I found a folder with your initials on it on my computer? In the Windows folder? Some interesting images."

"Mom! NO!"

"Ooh, I'm flattered. Did she get my manly butt crack? A manly butt crack is a badge of honor amongst my people, you know."

"Oddly, they weren't of you."

"MOOMM! SHUT UP!"

"They were GIFs of big cocks pounding cute little cunnies."

Outraged gasp.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

"How little? Isn't that illegal? Should we call the cops?"

"No, no, nothing like. Kinda on the skimpy side, though."

"STOP IT! STOP IT! HOW COULD YOU!"

"My oh my. What prompted you to look for them?"

"Not everybody knows this, but as a security feature, I had a friend, who turns out to know more than plumbing and carpentry, rig the web cam to silently turn on when other than my login gets used. It caught a cute but disobedient fool pounding her pussy as hard as she knew how, and I was curious as to what stimulated this display."

"YOU! BITCH! SHUT! UP!

"Did you, by any chance, archive the evidence for forensic purposes?"

She picked up the remote for the bedroom TV. We watched for a few moments.

"YOU TWAT! I HATE YOU! I HATE BOTH OF YOU!"

"Fetching. I mean, shocking. So ungraceful."

"YOU SHIT SUCKING PERVERTS!"

"If she isn't careful, she might fall out of ... oh dear."

"TURN IT OFF! PLEASE TURN IT OFF! I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!"

"Pam, any idea why naughty girls like this might want to show strange men their cooters?"

"MOOOM! PAM! PLEASE!"

"Oh, it's an invitation, no question, a dare, even. Why, I remember when I showed mine to Davey, from Mrs. Buckley's seventh grade class. Course, I did it hiking a football..."

"And your gameplan was?"

"Romantic smooching, followed by some sort of soft-focus pleasantry below our waists, the mechanics of which I was still rather unsure of."

"Did you make your goal?"

"Davey was a clumsy idiot, just as ignorant as I was. It was kinda fun for a minute or two, and then it just hurt." Her voice, and face, betrayed some lingering bitterness. "Hurt a lot, in fact, despite his wiener being barely big enough to get in. He was so ashamed of making me cry and bleed he left me lying in the dirt with his dick-snot dribbling out of me and never spoke to me again."

Complete silence from the trouble at hand.

"Just what you deserved."

"Probably."

"So, what do you think we can do to discourage that kind of sluttery? Twenty or thirty whacks with a two by two?"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm..."

"Might leave bruises, even break a rib or two. No, I think a belt will be fine."

"Oh god, please don't hurt me please, please don't..."

"As happens, I am wearing my favorite belt today. Two inches wide, well oiled leather--I particularly like these pyramid studs they decorated it with, and the metal tip. Notice the excellent engraving work on the buckle."

"NO! NO! NO!"

"Very handsome. But you know, I think you might wear her butt out with that."

"Naked, then, so I can do her entire backside? Spread the damage?"

"Yeah, that would be best. Not like she has a shred of modesty."

Pam grabbed a fistful of black curls, and lifted the terrified head trying to burrow into the mattress. "There are rules about running around the house without enough clothes on. Apparently those rules have been suspended in the last few weeks, although I didn't get the memo." She threw the sobbing noggin back to the mattress.

"Naked it is, then."

We spent an entertaining minute or two getting the jumper unbuttoned and over its wearer's head. We also took the opportunity to fasten a pair of velcro cuffs Pam found in her nightstand behind our captive's back. The strap between them was almost, but not quite, long enough to let her bring her balled fists around to the front, so while they wouldn't be secure left to herself, they weren't unduly uncomfortable, and did make her easier to control.

Pam demonstrated that by trapping the struggling Tilly in her arms and legs, she could restrain her in a close hug at the edge of the bed for my inspection.

I almost fainted with pleasure. Gum-drop nipples just beginning to stand proud of tidy aureoles, atop soft fluffy pancakes not much bigger around than my palm. Waist beginning to narrow above slim but widening hips. I'd been given glimpses over the past few weeks, of course, which I'd studiously ignored, but to see her now in all her angry glory ... devastating.

"Seems a pity to spoil such lovely skin, but..." Pam stroked the glowing hide.

"Actions have consequences. Sad, I know. Going by the last underage tramp I had to thrash, the marks will heal in a week or two, for the most part."

"Shouldn't there be some permanent reminder... ?"

"'For the most part', I said. I'm actually something of an artiste at beating children."

"Excellent!"

I stood in front of the terrified truant, and slowly, deliberately, unbuckled The Belt, and pulled it out of the loops.

Tilly's eyes bugged out of her head.

"YOU ASSHOLES!" she shrieked. "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!"

In my typical working man's sartorial clumsiness, I had offended the dignity of the occasion by allowing my jeans to fall to my ankles, which exposed a half-erection poking out from the center of a large satin bow in lavender, Tilly's favorite color after pink.

"Happy Birthday Tilly!" we shouted together, laughing.

"STUPID ASSHOLES! THAT'S NOT FUNNY!"

"I'm sorry, honey," said Pam. "I know you wanted a pony, but I'm afraid you'll have to settle for riding this little stick horse. Budget, you know."

I tweaked the bow, waggling my dick like a puppet. "Howdy pardner!," I mickey-moused, "Let's play rodeo!"

"FUCK Y..." She trailed off, aghast at her own invitation.

"Buckaroo, we know your birthday isn't until next week, but I've got a new job site starting up Monday, so I'll be too busy to do anything on Der Tag. That makes now the time. Here, give it a kiss and make it feel welcome."

"YOU FAGGOT! STICK THAT THING IN MY FACE I'LL BITE IT OFF!"

"Mommy, she said she'd bite my winkie, make her stop."

"'Oh, wee lamb.' Perhaps now would be a good time for the other present. Check under the bed."

It was a huge gaudy pink purse with red hearts all over it. It clattered and clunked on the bedside table. I rummaged through it, showing Tilly each implement.

"Let's see ... Butt plug, harness dildo, bolt cutters, carpet knife" [an ugly hooked blade] "branding iron..." [I'd let Tilly use it on a built-in cabinet I recently installed.]

"YOU MURDERING THUG! YOU MONSTER! YOU NAZI! STAY AWAY ... PAM! DON'T LET HIM DO THIS! LET! ME! GO!" She kicked and twisted, but to no avail.

"Ah! This should do!" I have a friend who likes to cast strange objects in gel. This one looked like a fat, over-sized ergonomic pacifier. It hung from a pair of elastic straps ending in a bayonet quick release buckle, sleeved in pink velvet.

"Let's change places so I can hold her while you put in the bit, little filly's a'gonna buck."

The handoff went pretty smoothly until I pulled Tilly in close and my cock prodded her ass crack. Buck she did, like a mule backing into a wasp nest. While I got her back under control, Pam slicked the gag with edible lube.

Tilly clamped her jaws shut as Pam tried to poke the gag between her teeth. Ever helpful, I pinched a nipple, hard, to make her scream. The pecker slipped between her teeth and pressed against the tip of her tongue. The flexible pink cap, barely larger than the pecker, slipped in front of her teeth. Her yelling inflated her cheeks and settled her lips on it.

The flattish cap didn't stick out as far as a ball of the same diameter would, giving a good view of the mouth. Personally, I've never liked a full ball, even on adults; this was perfect for a smaller face and shaped a lovely pair of eminently kissable lips without obtruding. It rendered her complaints amusingly incomprehensible, and took the whiny edge off. We let her carry on for a bit while Peg arranged towels, lubricants, and so forth.

I put my hand over her mouth to block her vocal air. "Careful there with the shrieking, kiddo. We might want to discuss issues of epistemology arising from quantum wave mechanics later, and wouldn't it be a pity if you were too hoarse to contribute?"

My advice was not taken. Kids today, no interest in exploring complex ideas in an atmosphere of reasoned discourse.

"Why, baby doll, what's this?" Peg leaned in for a closer look after I gave up and took my hand away. Her lips and tongue mopped up the drool on Tilly's chin. "Delicious! Cherry, is it not?"

"Indeed yes; it seemed appropriate for the occasion. It's flavored to stimulate saliva production. They also comes in strawberry, grape, sour apple, and watermelon."

"Very Jolly Rancherish. Gosh, she looks so cute! Here, baby doll, I'll bring the mirror over so you can see your new look."

Tilly whimpered in pleasure -- I assume it was pleasure -- at the mirror image of her helpless self in the loving bonds of my arms and legs. A tear of happiness ran down her cheek as more cherry drool dripped from her chin.

She tried to evade me as I stroked her hair and kissed her neck. "Baby girl," I whispered into her ear, "the cat chases the mouse because it tries to run away."

She froze. I rewarded her by not pursuing, for the moment.

"Pam, you know, Tilly and I are naked. You're completely clothed, and I think Tilly may resent that. I'm not sure I don't."

"Oh, dear. Let me fix that."

She moved the mirror out of the way but not out of our line of sight.

Pam twirled enough for her skirt to rise and show us the white stockings underneath. She'd pull it up to expose a calf, then let it drop. She'd unzip it, let it sag, then pull it back up modestly. When she finally dropped it, she kicked it away, letting us admire the lace at the top of her thigh-highs, lace that harmonized with lace panties that were, frankly, more holes than not.

Honestly, I missed her undoing the first button on her blouse. She'd turn away, undo a button, then turn back to expose a bit more decolletage for us, caressing the exposed skin. When she finally removed the blouse, she used it as a drape, slipping it across her torso, her thighs, her breasts, her delta.

Somewhere in there Tilly stopped objecting, stopped wriggling, and just watched. She behaved so well I relaxed my grip. I began to run my hands along her shoulders, across her belly, trying to mimic the feel of Pam's blouse play, although with the pressure of a massage rather than the tickle of fabric. She flinched at first, but soon began to follow my hand like a cat being petted. Her breathing got heavy.

I could see her face, her body, in the mirror. Her brows and jaw softened. When she caught glimpses of herself, she'd stiffen, but before long she was swaying, ever so slightly, in time with her cousin-Mom.

Pam ran the blouse again over her lace bra, as she had done several times, but this time, like magic, the bra came open as she released a front catch.

Tilly gasped as Pam's lovelies spilled into view. They swayed as she continued to caress herself with the blouse, but now the bra began to slip from her shoulders, and soon the bra and the blouse were gone, discarded as casually as the skirt.

Pam's figure was by no means Rubenesque, but she wasn't slight, either. Her breasts had full bellies, and the nipples would gaze upwards towards an approaching viewer. They swayed and jiggled quite nicely. She ran her hands over them, and I followed suit on Tilly's, who gasped and moaned, but did not try to pull away.