From: indexhtml@netscape.net   
      
   Story: CHILD WIFE   
      
   BY C C   
   cc_2222@mail.com   
      
   Most of the day she acts normally. No one would be able to tell, unless   
   they listened carefully to the things she says to me, and the tone of   
   voice she uses. They might seem a little...child-like, perhaps. But   
   then, so many young women are immature these days, they might not even   
   notice.   
      
   If they noticed her manner of dress, they might wonder at the pattern:   
   mostly jumpers, sailor suits, short plaid skirts with sheer white   
   blouses over lacy bras. Saddle shoes or loafers, and knee socks. If they   
   were able to see her panties, they would really be surprised! Always   
   cotton, lacy trim, with little hearts, teddy bears, or flowers on them,   
   even cartoons, sometimes (Cinderella, Jasmine, or Ariel, maybe; no Taz   
   or Power Rangers, that's for sure!).   
      
   You see, no matter how old she is in "bio-years", my wife will always be   
   ten years old to me. And although we're legally married, she will always   
   be my little "daughter", and I'm her "Daddy". We went through some rough   
   times, when my...predeliction was first revealed, but she wisely decided   
   to try and satisfy it as best she could, and hope that helped to keep me   
   on "the straight and narrow", as it were. And boy, did it ever work out   
   fine!   
      
   On a typical evening, after the kids are down, I'll be lying on the sofa   
   in our family room, two floors away from the kids' bedrooms, with a   
   monitoring system in place to let us know if they awaken. She'll come   
   trudging into the room, looking downcast. She'll be dressed in a   
   baby-doll nightshirt, all frills and lacy, very sheer, with nothing on   
   underneath. Or perhaps a soft pair of pajamas, with hearts or bears on   
   them. Her hair will be in a blue, little-girl's bow, or perhaps a   
   barette. Bunny slippers on her feet complete the outfit.   
      
   A typical exchange:   
      
   "Come here, young lady!" I growl. She shuffles over to my side. "You've   
   been very naughty today, haven't you?" I enquire. She just nods, glumly.   
   "Speak up, little missy, I can't hear you!" I command, punctuating it   
   with a smack to the front of her bare thighs.   
      
   "OH!" she gasps, and, "Yes, Daddy, I've been naughty!" she adds.   
      
   "And naughty girls should be punished, shouldn't they, young lady?" I   
   ask rhetorically.   
      
   "Oh, yes Daddy, I know, but Oh, please, Daddy, must I be punished?!" she   
   pleads, fetchingly. But to no avail. I tip her unceremoniously over my   
   lap, toss up the hem of her nightie, and express astonishment.   
      
   "Young lady! Where are your panties?! You should be ashamed to have your   
   bottom so bare. You really need a spanking!" And with that I commence to   
   rain smack after open-handed smack on her buttocks, alternating cheeks,   
   and frequently aiming for the groove between them, almost spanking her   
   on her anus, as she wails and sobs. After her bottom is suitably   
   reddened, I slow down, and gently rub her bottom, often pulling the   
   cheeks apart so she can feel the cool air on her little bottomflower.   
   She gasps and moans softly.   
      
   I push her off my lap and command her to stand up. She rubs her nose and   
   her bottom, snuffling. "You're not done with your punishment yet, young   
   lady!" I bark. "Take off that nightgown this instant!"   
      
   She dithers. "Oh, but Daddy, please! Do I haveta? Then I'll be   
   all...naked! It'll be so ‘barassing!"   
      
   "Right now, young lady!" I reply, with a smack on her bottom. "You   
   should have thought of that before you misbehaved!" Reluctantly she   
   pulls the nightie up and over her head. In my mind's eye she is   
   heartbreakingly slender, hips just beginning to think about flaring,   
   breasts no more than buds, nipples barely breaking the plane of her   
   chest. Her girlcleft nearly matches my imagination: smooth, unfledged,   
   shyly peeping from between her thighs, as she writhes a bit in   
   embarrassment at my avid gaze.   
      
   "I think it will be the riding crop, tonite, little missy," I announce.   
      
   "Oh, Daddy, but please, please, please!" she begs, piteously. But I am   
   determined. I circle her, slapping the crop's end into my palm,   
   ominously. Suddenly I flash it out, smacking the back of her thighs as   
   she jumps and yelps. I whip her with the crop untill the backs of her   
   thighs are suitably reddened. As I do so I rest my left hand on her   
   shoulder, then slide it down, almost casually, then seize her left   
   breast, pinching and twisting her tender nipple. She writhes prettily in   
   reaction.   
      
   I swing around, circling my hand from her breast to her bottom, seizing   
   her recently-spanked cheeks in a firm grasp, as I bring the crop down   
   sharply across the front of her bare thighs. She cries out repeatedly as   
   I discipline her.   
      
   After a bit of that I pause, looking her up and down. She shivers and   
   sniffles, waiting. I tenderly kiss her forehead and hug her a bit, as   
   she presses against me. "You're so precious and pretty, little one. But   
   you're getting bigger, aren't you! I think you may be ready for Big   
   Girl's punishment tonite."   
      
   "Oh, but Daddy, please! Big Girl's punishment??!! But that means I   
   haveta be whipped on my...my..." she trails off, not wanting to finish   
   the thought.   
      
   "That's right, young lady, and right now!" With that I bring the crop   
   down sharply across her breasts with a smack! She wails and sobs as I   
   repeatedly whip her top, reddening her little-girl breasts, her nipples   
   becoming erect from the stimulation.   
      
   "You know what I think you need, little one? I think you need a bra and   
   panties whipping," I opine solemnly.   
      
   "Wh-what's th-that?" she inquires, nervously twisting her hands together   
   and fidgeting.   
      
   "That's where I use this," I said, holding up the crop, "To make it look   
   like you have on a bra and panties, but it's really just your hide being   
   tanned from your punishment!" She gapes in astonishment at this, and   
   then begs and pleads.   
      
   "Oh, Daddy, please, do I have to have a bra and panties whipping??!! Oh,   
   Daddy, it's gonna sting so much on my little nipples and cleft! Oh,   
   Daddy, please!"   
      
   WHAP! goes the crop on her breasts again, and "AAAA!" cries out my   
   little child-wife. Her moans and cries fill the air as I redden her   
   little breasts completely, not neglecting the undersides and lateral   
   surfaces. Then I shift my aim to her bottom, fading but still reddened   
   from her spanking, and bring the flush back to her "cheeks" with the   
   crop, as she dances from foot to foot.   
      
   Shifting to her front, without mercy I swing the crop back and forth   
   across her mons as she wails and sobs. I order her to spread her little   
   legs, and she obeys after a sharp smack to her breasts convinces her   
   that I mean business. Then I complete her "bra and panties" by   
   thoroughly reddening her cleft and anus with the crop. By now she is   
   sobbing convulsively, the tears running down her little cheeks.   
      
   I stop, finally, and sit down on the couch, pulling her down onto my   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)