'Ravan, Kiki is just precious. So well trained,' said a guest. 'And at so impressionable an age.
You should be proud of her.'
'Ready, Kiki?' said Ravan.
'Ready.'
The cane whirred and made a sharp crack across a very small bottom. It would have been too much, of course, to expect that so young a creature would withstand the cane with little reaction. Kiki reacted.
'Wowee!' she wailed, and wiggled the whole card table.
The second cut made her head snap backwards.
Kiki was never without something to say.
'Oww! That was a corker! Burns like all get out!'
The eleven strokes were delivered without anger, and without hurry. Kiki thrashed and uttered some type of comment after each one, along with appropriate yelps, screams and wails. Her thighs and legs were wet with perspiration from the hurt. One could see clearly through her thin nylon pants and the perfect blue-red welts were very visible. Even as Ravan untied her, and made her once more kiss the cane, the precocious child uttered another of her unending comments.
'Well, anyway, the panties helped. Hate to be caned bare-assed!'
Kiki's pants, of course, had been no aid, and Pamela and Donna laughed at the girl's flippancy.
She was something else! Yet, they held a sincere admiration for Kiki. Eleven strokes of the cane, at her age, was incredible! Pamela and Donna had only had five and had thought that they would faint. Now here was this miraculous moppet taking eleven on a bottom that you could almost hold in your hands, and came up making jokes!
Kiki was not really old enough to turn her on yet, but Pamela had felt the tingly feeling again during the caning, especially when Ravan had brought her slim hips up off the card table with most of the strokes. She might be fun to play with at that!
Kiki left. The muffin hadn't even cried tears!
Pamela and Donna went about their duties as the card game progressed and did not mind at all the occasional pat,s on the rump or feel of a breast.
After all, that's what those lovely pieces of anatomy were there for. Phillipa and Carry had lost and Pamela and Donna were most interested when the two, without a word, had peeled off their blouses and put their hands behind their chairs to be bound by the two winners.
Pamela and Donna had never seen nipple-screws, but they had heard of them. They were ancient devices, born in the medieval period, for the ultimate hurt of female nipples. It was assumed that there were few left in existence, but it would be correct to guess that there were still a few about. They watched spellbound as Ravan and her partner at bridge applied the punishment of 'pen- alty bridge.'
The devices were iron clamps which were tightened by a small strew-head. At first there was no reaction from the two losers at bridge, then suddenly their heads fell backwards and their nostrils flared. There were no cries of pain, or loud moans, but there were whispered 'ohhhhs.' When the nipple flesh began to protrude through the hollow opening of the circular metal, the women whisked their hair from side to side. Yet still the two winners turned the screws. The tortured nipples squeezed out of the clamps like wet clay, fully an inch long now. Ravan and her partner still turned the screws with no particular expression on their faces, small droplets of blood now oozing from under the metal. The two women thrashed in their chairs and now their throats gave forth with the howl of an animal.
'We'll have tea now, girls,' said Ravan to Pamela and Donna. 'You'll have to serve it to their mouths, I'm afraid. They do have to stay like this for an hour.'
Pamela and Donna were in a state of utter numbness, their sex shamefully wet, but somehow they got themselves moving again. They brought back the tea with Kiki happily trodding beside them.
The moppet had no reaction at all to the tortured nipples she saw.
'Oh, good! You've won at bridge again, mother!
You're ever such a good player.'
'Thank you, Kiki. By the way, Pamela and Donna are done serving now. I think it would be nice if they took you up to their room and taught you a few things. You're getting old enough now to begin understanding things. You'll find them excellent teachers. Girls, take Kiki upstairs. She's yours for the night. Anything goes, of course, but do your hurting things before twelve please. I'm a light sleeper and I don't want to hear her yelling after I go to bed. You'll find all the things you might need in the top bureau drawer. Kiki, be a good girl now.'
Pamela and Donna looked at each other. Pamela said, 'Geez.'
Pamela and Donna led Kiki by the hand to the bedroom, and explored the miscellaneous items in the bureau drawer. The ceiling had hooks, as did most of Ravan's rooms.
'Well, snippet,' said Pamela, 'the first thing we better do with you is teach you that you're a girl rather than an it. Strip, 'cept for your pants.'
'Ho hum,' said Kiki, and peeled off her clothes.
Kiki was hung like a turkey from the ceiling hook by her thumbs, and the two sat down to watch her squirming antics.
'Never knew girls were hung by their thumbs,' said Kiki. 'Hey, I've been up here for a few minutes now, 'bout time for this game to end, isn't it?'
'You see!' said Donna. 'A real girl can hang by her thumbs all night without fussing. You're just an it. Let's see, Pamela, I think the nipple screws might not work. She just hasn't got much nipple to work with. Those clothespins might do fine, though.'
The springy clothespins stuck out like beacons on Kiki's dainty breast tips.
'Whoops,' piped Kiki, 'makes me know I've got nipples, doesn't it! Very clever.'
'Perhaps just two across her back with the whip,' said Donna.
Pamela swung and the whip made a delightful crack across the slim back. A pink streak appeared on a long diagonal direction.
'Ow,' said Kiki. 'Rather uncomfortable.'. The second lash crossed the first making a per- fect X on her bare back. Kiki swung her face from side to side in pain.
'Only eighteen to go, muffin,' teased Pamela.
'Real girls can take twenty without much fuss.' Kiki pondered.
'Oh, okay, you win. Guess I'm not a girl after all, just an it. Don't really think I can take any more of a whip. Darn it, growing up is so slow.
Teach me to be a girl. I surrender.'
Kiki was released and her clothespins removed.
'On the bed, kitty-cat,' said Pamela, 'and take those silly little panties off! Souvenir of Majorca, of all things! Girl games are played bare butt, y'know.'
Kiki flung her pants across the room, trying to hit the chair, but missed. Pamela and Donna bounced onto the bed beside Kiki and spread her legs.
'Well. What.now?' chirped Kiki. 'All I can see is a bunch of nipples and pussies everywhere I look. What's so great about that'?'
Pamela bent to her task.
'Hey,' squeaked Kiki, 'what the heck are you doing, Pamela, stop licking me down there, that doesn't do much for me, girls aren't supposed to lick like kittens, this is so silly, how can girls make love, they don't have a 'thing' to stick into a girl like boys do and what's your tongue supposed to do, turn me on or something, Donna, slop sucking on my nipples, Pamela, don't lick so hard down
there, it simply won't do anything for me, well, it does feel a little bit nice at that and I suppose you'll want me to do that to you next and I'll do it, to be nice but I don't see the point and I feel awful funny and tingly and wet but if you think that it's turning me on you've got another think coming, there's just no way that it w…'
The parrot had stopped chirping. The next sound she made was a very long moan. It was the only adult sound she had made all evening.
'Well, we just might have a girl here after all,
Donna,' said Pamela. 'What do you think?'
'She has possibilities,' said Donna.
