From: ginger30@aol.com (Ginger30) Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking Subject: Extended Relations Date: 5 May 1995 16:28:57 -0400 Look out! It's gooey, a total mini-romance novel, with an end meant to promote cavities. I thought we could use a little of that around here. Extended Relations Albany, NY 1899 The house was dark when Richard Spencer helped Liza from the carriage and up the walk. "This is far enough, Richard. I don't want to wake anyone," she insisted. The girl was less concerned about disturbing her cousins than in avoiding his kiss. Yes, she'd enjoyed the hay ride and the bonfire afterwards, however, Liza had only let Richard escort her this evening because she'd wanted to meet other young people from the area, not because she had anything more than a passing interest in him. "Good night and thank you." "Liza, I--" He made a move toward her but she neatly stepped back. "Richard, it's very late, I'm very late. I should have been home hours ago. I will see you in church," she called over her shoulder as she hurried up the steps of the large house. The young man was far too much of a gentleman to do anything more than murmur a polite "good night" to the lovely retreating figure. When Liza pressed the door closed behind her, she breathed a small sigh of relief. It was hard to spend time with one man when you were in love with another... but this was the way it had to be, she sternly reminded herself. She could not afford to daydream about marriage right now. For one thing, she was too young and for another, she was determined to finish her education at Emma Willard's School for Girls. Her father had done much to fulfill her wish by providing the funds and arranging for her to stay with his brother's family in Albany. Liza would not disappoint her parents -- even if the man she adored above all others lived under this very roof. Yes, she'd known her cousin Conor all her life, but she'd never paid him any particular attention; he'd always been so much older than she. Then he'd gone off with the Rough Riders to fight in the Spanish-American War for two years and the family didn't hear from him. Just as Liza joined the household, Conor returned to Albany, none worse for the wear. From the moment she handed him her suitcase last July, Liza saw her cousin with new eyes. He was taller, leaner and more handsome than she'd remembered. And when he insisted she have his room, taking the attic for himself, Liza noticed that his clear blue gaze lingered on her face. Throughout the summer and the beginning of the fall, she ignored those looks of his, laden with promise, and stamped down her own sizzling feelings... as she would continue to do, she assured herself, even if it meant staying out all night with a hundred other men. Liza was certain if she acknowledged Conor's love, even for an instant, she'd be married and expecting before her eighteenth birthday and her teaching career would remain an unrealized pipe dream. "Elizabeth, is that you?" a low voice called from the depths of the house. "Uncle John?" "I'm in the parlor. Come here." A prickle of worry traced down Liza's spine. She'd only heard her uncle use that tone with careless employees and misbehaving children. The last time being when Mary pushed little Cora out of the hayloft. Liza slipped quickly down the hall. She could make out the tall figure of her uncle as he held open the door to the family sitting room. Behind him, a fire blazed in the hearth for it was a chilly October night. "You're late." He was always a man of few words. "Richard lost track of the time, Uncle John. Everyone did," Liza offered as she stepped into the dimly lit room. John shut the door with the softest of clicks and turned. Oh, he was disappointed in her! The girl's heart sank into her stomach, why hadn't she realized he would wait up; he always paced the floor until each of his five children was in for the night. "I'm so very sorry," she said and meant it with every ounce of her being but her uncle simply shook his head. His crisp black hair and piercing blue eyes were so like Conor's that Liza found herself breathing as though she'd been running. "What kind of example have you set for the others?" John asked in his usual husky baritone. Liza wasn't sure if it was a rhetorical question, but she decided to answer just the same. "I know. I should have thought--" "You have shown them that when they are seventeen it is acceptable to ignore family rules." Guilt flooded Liza's whirling brain. Oh yes, her young cousins emulated everything she did. Her uncle continued, "Cora came down at midnight, worried that you weren't home." He let his words sink in before adding, "I'm going to have to punish you, you know." Punish her?! What a ghastly, sickening thought! Not that her father had ever spared her the back of his hand. Liza could not bring herself to argue with the stern man before her. She had broken his rules and she knew it. Unfortunately she also knew exactly what he intended to do about it and that knowledge had her confidence crumbling like a day old biscuit. "Have you anything more to say?" he asked. When the girl shook her head, John pointed to the back of the chaise longue. It was the same elongated chair on which her cousin Mary had bent and braced herself, her little roly poly bottom tipped to the ceiling, naked for all to see. Liza studied the chaise with dizzy apprehension and finally dragged her body forward, a small sob ticking in the back of her throat. As she gathered up her long skirt, she considered begging her uncle to whip her over her undergarments. One peep in his direction murdered that notion. John stood to one side, his arms crossed loosely, waiting patiently, as though this was a scene he'd played many times. And he had. With so many spirited children underfoot, John had spanked many a young bared backside. When his offspring were small, he and his wife had preferred over the lap, open handed smacking. But now that all, save little Cora, who was just ten this week, were in their teens and older, John insisted a culprit present his or her own bottom for punishment. He was a big man but even so, John was not interested in holding down a struggling teen while he applied the belt. So his children learned when Papa pointed to a a piece of furniture, they had better bare their nether regions quickly and get into position. Liza had heard about this from her cousins and witnessed it first-hand when fifteen year-old Mary yanked down her drawers in front of her brothers without issuing a single complaint. Mary's example rang in Liza's mind as she untied the ribbon on her pantalets with shaking fingers. Already tears coursed down her cheeks from sheer humiliation. When her undergarments were crumpled around her ankles, Liza leaned forward, over the low back of the chaise, and gripped its arm rests. Between her bunched gown and the padded upholstery there was enough of a cushion under her stomach to keep Liza comfortable -- momentarily, of course. John stepped behind his niece and hoisted her skirt higher, tucking it under her waist. The girl's bottom was now fully exposed and twitching but still John was unsatisfied. He clamped his large hands on Liza's hips and slid her forward, so that her belly took the brunt of her weight, so that she had to go up on tip toe. The first fat tear plopped onto the pale green fabric of the chaise longue as Liza dissolved into shame. Behind her, John pulled his wide, supple belt from its loops and studied the pale buttocks before him. His niece was a beautiful girl, there was no denying that, and John couldn't help but notice that she was lovely from this angle as well. Her legs were long, her thighs slim and her bottom deliciously rounded. Furthermore, as she shifted her hips in alarm, her uncle, who was not usually one for poetic metaphor, was struck by the luminous pearl-like quality of Liza's skin as it caught the golden shadows of the fire. Well, not for long, thought John wryly as he took the belt buckle into his palm and wound one length of the leather around his fist. Soon his niece's young bottom would be reminiscent of the fire's heat. When he took a step to the left and Liza knew her chastisement was soon to begin. She clenched her teeth, held her breath and studied the pale floral pattern beneath her nose. THWACK! The ugly noise filled the room and was sharply trailed by Liza's strangled gasp. CRACK! Her uncle wasted no time in his follow up stroke. Only as long as it took to pull back his arm and take aim. The belt flew through the air to deliver its viper's kiss. Liza shuddered all over and groaned, only to be whacked again and again and again. She tried to stay silent, oh, she did try. Announcing her disgrace to the entire household was not her intention. But by the dozenth blow, her gasps turned to yelps and soon after that, to one long high pitched scream. But this did not stop her spanking. Oh no. The bright descending band of pain was laid on with even more vigor and Liza kicked up her legs, sending her slippers flying across the room, as she flailed frantically over the back of the chaise. She couldn't let go of the arm rests to reach back to protect herself. For one thing, her uncle would not have tolerated it. For another, now that Liza's toes were flashing in midair, she needed her hands to brace herself. Every muscle in her body either shook, writhed or jerked and yet, she had no where to go. There was no escape from her uncle's determined whack, whack, whacking. Each second that passed, Liza prayed was the last. But as any of her cousins could have told her, their father did not stop a strapping until the bottom before him was well and truly chastised; until the culprit's entire backside, waist to thigh, was one fiendish swell of throbbing pain. By the the time Liza reached this point, she was beyond prayer, beyond language. John watched the color of his niece's lively buttocks change from white to pink to crimson but still he thrashed his errant niece. Suddenly one red stripe blazed across the girl's right thigh, the result of a wild shot, which caused her more pain than the other stokes if her wild howl meant anything. "It's finished, Elizabeth." His words barely penetrated her frenzied consciousness. And when he grabbed her by an upper arm and hoisted her to her feet, Liza crumpled to the floor. Her hands flew back to her exposed tormented flesh and she rubbed it furiously while pressing her forehead to the rug. Never had any of John's children given such a pathetic display. He yanked the girl to her feet and roughly commanded, "Pull up your drawers, niece. And get yourself to bed." John did not mean to be unkind, but his words had Liza sobbing anew as she tripped out of her pantalets and scurried from the room. Her uncle sighed, replaced his belt and scooped up the girl's forgotten undergarment. He did not enjoy the spankings he meted out to his brood, but neither did he feel remorse for setting their backsides on fire and their behavior straight. Liza bolted up the long staircase, still holding her chastised seat in both hands. At the top she found Conor, leaning against the doorjamb that led to the attic, his white shirt open at the neck, his strong arms crossed over his chest. The girl stepped back in mortification. He must have heard everything! "If it had been me," he offered in a dry tone, "I'd have spanked you longer... and harder." Liza was devastated, so much so, she could not even reply to her cousin's angry words. She merely stood before him in mute anguish, tears sliding down her cheeks, biting her lower lip to keep from sobbing aloud. The picture she made softened the young man's heart without her intending it. He reached out, took her by the hand and pulled her up stairs to his attic room. Liza hung back every step of the way, so that he was practically dragging her. "No, Conor," she whispered desperately. "Please don't spank me anymore. I can't bear it!" "I'm not going to, brat," he said as closed the door to his room and took her in his arms. "Though you deserve it for staying out so late with an ass like Spencer." When he hugged her close, she pressed her wet, little face into the bare skin of his chest as her hands slipped around his waist. Conor immediately realized his mistake. He pried her loose and held her at arm's length. "Liza-" "Kiss me," she interrupted. He shook his head. "If I kiss you now, I won't stop." His hard-on was not going to listen to moral arguments and he damned well knew it. "I don't care," she whispered fervently, her green eyes glowing in the shadows. Conor stepped away from her. "Let me see your bottom." "Will you kiss me afterwards?" There was a long pause before he said, "Yes," his voice now rough with anticipation. "Everywhere." Liza unbuttoned her dress and shoved it down her hips. She lifted her underskirt and when she turned her back to him, her cousin let out a low hiss between clenched teeth. "He really laid it on you." "Yes." Conor dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to her fiery skin. Since she didn't protest -- she was actually holding her breath -- he continued his reverent attention, running his mouth over her twin mounds, licking her curves, blowing on each welt. The tears continued to run down Liza's flushed cheeks but she raised her slip higher and refused to think about these wanton acts, simply allowing the sensations to wash over her with unexamined rapture. When she gasped aloud, Conor sprang to his feet. He spun her into his arms, into a reeling love-heavy kiss and she pressed her whole body to his, trying to melt against him. When he swept her up and laid her on his bed, Liza's protest was for her backside, not her convictions, and as her cousin's fingers dove between her thighs and tickled out a moan from deep within her, even the searing pain of her bottom could be disregarded. It should not be thought that the young man took advantage of Liza's enflamed and desperate state. At several points he pulled away and insisted she return to her own bed. But the girl would have none of it. She hungered for his touch, his smell, his taste anything that would ease the ache between her legs. She tore the shirt from his back and pulled at his pants. With a groan, Conor gave over to her insistence and his own intense desire. He lowered Liza's bodice and fastened his warm mouth on her breast but this attention only made her restless. "Please, Conor, Please!" "Liza," he asked while pinning her face between his hands, "What is it you want?" "You." Was her unschooled answer. So, without wasting another moment, Conor peeled down his snug trousers, parted her legs with his knee and pushed his hard cock into her soft yielding flesh. He hit a barrier, of course, for Liza was a virgin, but between her squirming and his thrusting they were soon joined at the loins and having a fine time of it. Never had Liza experienced anything so delicious. Her cousin's body was smooth and hard and delightful to the touch. As he rode her belly to belly, she scraped her fingers down his back, daring herself, with his every thrust, to caress his buttocks. As her pleasure mounted, and she wanted him in deeper, she held back no longer. She cupped his ass cheeks in the palm of her hands, sinking her fingers into his sweet flesh and pulled him closer while bucking up to meet him. Her clit ground against his pubic bone. It was all the stimulation she needed; she came immediately. Conor was not long to follow, both muffling their cries lest the whole household be alerted to their bliss. Afterwards, neither had regrets. As Liza lay on her side, with Conor behind her, his arms pulling her close, she pressed her sore bottom backwards into his lap and whispered, "I shan't sit for a month." "But will you ever come home late again?" Conor murmured, his warm breath sending goose bumps down her spine. "Never!" "Then the whipping was effective." "Only in that it brought us together," the stubborn girl countered. "Otherwise it might have taken years." "You think so?" "Well, of course," she said, rolling to her belly so that she could turn to meet his amused gaze. Conor rubbed a palm over her tender buttocks. "Liza, your teasing would have lasted just till Thanksgiving." "Oh?" "That was as long as I was going to put up with it," he said in a confident tone. "Really?" Liza arched a brow at him. "Well, it seems I'm a bit ahead of schedule so perhaps I'll just return to my own bed now." She made a motion to rise. "All right," he agreed. "But you'll be back here tomorrow night." "Will I?" "Yes." He took her by a wrist, flipped her onto her back. Liza squeaked in pain but Conor settled over her. "As my wife," he promised in a silky voice. Liza forgot the throb in her bottom flesh as she felt her cousin's stiff cock pressing between her thighs. "I can't--" "You can and you will," he said firmly. "And you can continue to go to school and teach after that if you like. But you will marry me." "Yes," she finally breathed. "And know this, cousin, after we are married, I will not be nearly as tolerant of your silly, stubborn games." "No?" Liza blinked innocently into his fierce countenance while her fingers encircled his shaft. It was a test of wills and between her warm hand and damp pussy curls, she won the round. She spread her legs wider and rubbed the head of his cock against her clit. "What would you do with me, Conor? Spank me?" He thrust into her on a groan and a "Yes." Beneath him, a randy smile curled over her lips; with his strong thighs and large palms, Liza decided she might enjoy a trip across his knee. It was a scene worth exploring anyway.