Ulrika

This story is sent by Michael on behalf of Joss, please send comments and appreciation to Michael R2D2




My name is Ulrika, I am originally from Austria. My father and mother sent me to a girls boarding school in Southern Germany until I was thirteen when tragically, they died overseas in a boating accident. I had no siblings and was thus,
in the Autumn of 1971, duly despatched to the care of my nearest relatives, a rather distant Uncle and Aunt near Hamburg.
Boarding school had prepared me well for independence and I confess that I was no shrinking violet. It had not been a hard place but discipline was strict and, looking back in hindsight was, to put it kindly, somewhat unconventional. But
at that age I’d nothing with which to compare it, and to be fair it had an excellent academic record. In those days, few questions were asked provided the results were there. I had many friends and was quite content.
So, it was with some trepidation that I found myself outside the front door of a rather gloomy gothic house on the outskirts of Hamburg, late afternoon. The sky was a darkened leaden grey. The trees had already started to lose their
leaves, several with skeletal arms and gutters heaped with the damp earthy smell of orange and yellow. I recall that twinge of nervousness as I pressed the bell.
The door finally creaked open as in a B picture horror movie. A figure who I knew was my aunt stood before me, somewhat austere until her face broke with a hint of a cold smile of greeting. "Ah, you must be little Ulrika?" She said. Who
else would it be?
"Yes." I swallowed, uncertain as to how I should address this forbidding person.
She stepped forward and put her hands on my shoulders. "Welcome my dear. I am Aunt Anna." She spoke a little stiffly, and ushered me into the dim hallway. I felt like Jane Eyre, arriving at Thornfield Hall.
My uncle was a good match, a little portly, pompous and full of self importance. I recall only that he smelt vaguely musty in his dark grey suit and waistcoat.
I won’t dwell on my early days, just that there was an air of distant formality with our relationship. Aunt knew of my boarding school and declared that she would adopt the same system of corporal discipline with me that was practiced in
the school. That way punishment would be swift, uncomplicated and with no residual resentment. Who was I to demure.
It was four months after I arrived and I was nearing my fourteenth birthday that my Aunt had cause to apply her version of discipline. I had been caught smoking. She called me to the large study library, demanded I bend over the chair.
She lifted my short skirt and to my surprise, pulled down my knickers. I felt myself flush. Then she applied four strokes. They stung, and I gave a small squeak as each one fell across my buttocks. I realised it could have been a lot
more painful and concluded that my humiliation had contributed to the punishment. When I pulled up my knickers I noticed she was breathing a little heavy and her face had a faint tinge of excited pink. I wasn’t stupid, and realised that
the activity had aroused her. I retained my demeanour and apologised for transgressing her rules. She nodded and I was duly dismissed.
Far from being humiliated and resentful, I felt a stir of excitement. It hadn’t been particularly painful and I knew that I’d discovered a chink in my Aunt’s aloofness.
She punished me twice more in that manner and, just after my fifteenth birthday, my uncle was also called to attend. This was a more serious offence for I’d been caught raiding their Christmas drinks cabinet with three friends. I hadn’t
expected them back so early and they’d interrupted my friends Greta and myself with two boys, worse for drink and partially undressed. Fairly innocent by today’s standards, but then… oh dear.
I was a well proportioned teenager and when Aunt called me to order I arrived at the lounge to find Uncle Wilhelm standing in the corner looking rather comically stern. The Christmas tree was glistening in the corner of the room.
Finally, haughty as ever, he started to read the riot act, but the words floated over my head.
Aunt raised her hand to halt his ministrations, fixing me with a stern look. I returned a coy nod, and slipped off my dress. I heard Uncle Wilhelm draw an intake of breath as he ogled my dark stockings, suspender belt, black panties and
bra. Little Ulrika was growing up! Aunt directed that I bend over the chair and I duly complied. She paused, and I noticed the look that passed between them. Uncle’s tongue briefly flicked out and there was a sheen of perspiration on his
upper lip. Aunt pulled down my panties displaying my milky white posterior.




From the corner of my eye I noticed my uncle’s hand drop to discretely ‘adjust his dress’. This time the cane stung six times. At Aunt’s order, I stood up, faced them and with feigned modesty slowly pulled up my panties. My uncle was
almost beside himself when, with a short curtsey, I departed to leave them to what I guessed was going to follow in the privacy of their room. I decided I’d given them an appropriate Christmas gift…
I always knew when punishment was due as there was a frizzon of excitement between them. Far from this disturbing me I found it both amusing and in some strange way an extension of my power over them.
Teasing uncle became a pleasant pastime. Just after my sixteenth birthday, I had dressed in the most brazen I could escape with. Short red skirt, and skimpy white blouse that displayed generous cleavage. Aunt was out at a women’s
institute meeting and Uncle Wilhelm made a poor excuse to enter my room. I looked up from my desk, pouting in innocence, and turned towards him. I slightly opened my legs to give him a tantalising glimpse of white thigh above at my
stockings.
"Hello my Liebling…" He swallowed, approaching with an inane grin.
"Yes uncle?" My eyebrows rose.
"I, er, was wondering if you needed anything?" He gabbled.
I frowned thoughtfully. "Like what?" I asked finally.
He came closer and put his arm around my shoulders. "You are getting to be quite a big girl aren’t you." He whispered. I noticed the bulge in his trousers and stared quite openly. His hand moved to cup my breast. "Quite a big girl." He
reiterated
"I see you are becoming quite big too." I responded cheekily and put my hand onto his bulge. His eyes widened and I thought he was going to have a heart attack but he just shivered and he slipped his hand into my bra to cup my breast.
His other hand moved to his groin, unzipped his trousers, slipped inside and released his hardened organ. "My little Ulrika." He murmured and placed my hand onto his organ. By now I was getting decidedly edgy as this could very quickly
get out of hand (if you’ll pardon the pun). A friend at school had been in a similar position with a boyfriend and had said that it was important not to panic. Men are very vulnerable if you know what to do. With my other hand I released
his belt, and allowed the trousers to drop, I pulled down his underpants while he whimpered in anticipation. He began to edge my skirt up over my stocking tops and I could see he was gradually beginning to lose control. Time to take over
I thought.
His testicles hung like ripe plums. I cupped them unopposed, with my free hand. "Sorry uncle, but not tonight." I said apologetically. His longing turned to a frown of annoyance and he yanked at my skirt - silly man. I squeezed his balls
with a vengeance, and twisted, exactly how my friend had told me. He shrieked and collapsed clutching himself. I giggled.
He begged me not to tell my aunt. But I did. At first she was furious and threatened him with dire consequences, starting with public castration.
"I think he should be punished." I said, "but maybe let’s not castrate him to start with, I mean Auntie what’s good for the gander is good for the goose, is it not?"
My aunt frowned, then smiled knowingly. "Oh yes, my dear you are so right."
And so, on that bright sunny afternoon in July, poor uncle Wilhelm stood before us, naked and crestfallen. His mighty weapon was now a peashooter.
"Over the chair." Aunt snapped. He complied wordlessly. She fixed me with her eyes, her mouth a taut slash. "It’s all about the wrist action." She said, and swung the cane. He yelped as the thin red line shot across his bare buttocks.
She swung it twice more then handed it to me. "Now, just as I’ve shown you." She commanded. I bit my lip to hide a grin, took up position and let him have it. As I made for the second strike my aunt restrained my arm. "Wilhelm, after
each stroke you will apologise to Ulrika, do I make myself clear?" He nodded vigorously.
I gave him another six. By now he was begging so aunt decided to call it a day. It was time to put my second plan into action. As my aunt turned towards me I wrapped my arms around her and pressed my body to her. "Thank you auntie…." I
said and, as I broke away, I saw the familiar red sheen of excitement.
I am not stupid. Of course I realised that the power had deftly slipped into my hands. From thence forth, poor uncle Wilhelm was ordered to address me as Miss Ulrika.
I let Auntie Anna put her arms around me and hold me close. "My little Ulrika," she would whisper. "I must still maintain some discipline with you, you do realise that?"
"Of course Auntie," I replied demurely, my mind already racing ahead. Very soon I planned, Aunt Anna herself would feel the seductive sting of her own cane…


Joss – Christmas 2011









This story is sent by Michael on behalf of Joss, please send comments and appreciation to Michael R2D2