Submission

Chapter 1

I was twenty-seven when things started to change in my life.  My husband disappeared, apparently with one of the women he worked with.  I lost my house because I was unable to make the payments on my own.  Eventually, I even lost my job because I couldn’t concentrate on my work.  I was quickly slipping into a deep depression and the hole seemed to be getting bigger every day.  So, eight years after getting married and moving out of my parents’ home, I was forced to move in with my sister just to survive.

Brenda is six years younger than I, but she’s surprisingly successful for her age.  She started writing novels in high school.  Nothing that sold, mind you, but she was good.  She sold her first novel during her freshman year in college and the second sold six months later, even before the first one was released.  By the time the royalty checks started coming in Brenda decided that she no longer needed a degree in accounting and, instead, dropped out of school to write full time.

When I moved in, she was in the middle of a book tour, often spending a week or more on the road before getting a couple days to spend at home.  She was getting more and more frustrated because she wasn’t able to concentrate on her work while traveling, and then, by the time she got home, she was so busy trying to get caught up on errands and chores that she had little time to write.  Her fourth novel was running behind schedule.  I tried to be helpful around the house, but honestly, the depression I was in effectively killed any motivation I might have been able to scrounge up for washing dishes and doing the laundry.  So, while Brenda’s frustration with me was entirely understandable, the way things blew up between us was nothing I had anticipated.

Brenda had been running around the condo in a frenzy wearing just a skirt, stockings, and a bra.  She was obviously looking for something, so as she was digging through the laundry basket I asked if there was anything I could do.

“Yeah, have you seen my blue… blouse?”  Her eyes narrowed as she finally noticed what I was wearing.

“I didn’t have anything clean so I borrowed yours,” I explained.  “I’m sorry.”

“Take it off,” she said.  I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was angry.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.  But as I turned to go to my room, she stopped me by grabbing my arm.

“Where are you going?  I said take it off.”

I looked at her with what must have been a puzzled expression.  “Brenda, I’ll just go put on a dirty t-shirt or something.  I’ll be right back.”

“No.  Take it off and give me my blouse.”

“But Brenda, I’m not even wearing a bra.  I won’t be but a minute.”

I’d never seen her this impatient before.  Actually, I’d never seen her this angry before.  She’s not one to scream and yell when she’s angry.  She gets quiet.  Menacingly quiet.  I hate to admit it, but I was actually a little bit frightened.

“Give… me… my… blouse.  Now.”

I nervously began to unbutton the blouse as she held her hand out, waiting.  I blushed uncontrollably as I pulled it off, revealing my B-cup breasts to her for the first time in over a decade.  I think Brenda’s been better endowed since she was twelve years old and I was eighteen.  I know that she’s been taller than me since she was fourteen.

She took the blouse from me and I tried to cover up as she put it on

“Put your hands down,” she said as she started to button it.  “We’re not in a sixth grade gym class.”  Self-consciously, I put my hands at my side and blushed an even brighter shade of crimson as I watched my nipples harden.  “We need to have a talk.”

“About what?” I asked.  I tried to hide the panic I felt.  Was she going to ask me to leave?

“I need you to take some responsibility around here.  If you aren’t going to get out and find a job, then you can at least help me take care of the place.  When was the last time you did laundry?”

I couldn’t answer.  I couldn’t even look at her.  I hadn’t done a load of laundry since I’d arrived three weeks ago.  I was stunned when she took a firm hold of my jaw and forced me to look up.

“Answer me!”

I tried to squirm away, but she held tight and, in fact, squeezed even tighter.  “I haven’t!”  My words were filled with a plea to let go.  Brenda did let go, but not before giving me a little additional squeeze.  Her forearm accidentally brushed my nipple as she released me and she looked down as if she’d just noticed I was topless.  The brief contact was almost electric and, if they were stiffening before, they were practically throbbing now.  Brenda paused a moment before continuing.

“Right.  And what about dishes?  How many times have you done the dishes?”

I was so embarrassed about her noticing that my nipples had stiffened that I made the mistake of hesitating again.  Brenda quickly grabbed and squeezed my jaw, getting right up in my face as she did so.  “Once.  I did the dishes once,” I said, nearly begging.

Releasing me, she glanced at my nipples again and slowly shook her head.  “Do you think you can make an effort to change that?”

I nodded meekly.  I still couldn’t look at her.  My nipples were burning, yearning to be touched again, even accidentally.  But as humiliating as that was, I could only be thankful that she couldn’t see what was happening under my skirt.  At first, I didn’t know why I was reacting this way.  I knew that I wasn’t attracted to women.  Though I recognized that Brenda was attractive, I didn’t have any sexual feelings for her.  No, it was something else.  Something just as unexpected.  I was aroused by the humiliation.

I didn’t admit it right away.  In fact I denied it.  I denied it until it happened again.

The week that followed the blouse incident had me on my best behavior.  I made a concerted effort to help out around the house and keep up with the chores.  I took Brenda to the airport on Thursday and agreed to pick her up at ten on Sunday.

Imagine my surprise when she showed up at four in the afternoon looking disheveled and angry.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.  “I thought your flight didn’t arrive until ten.”

“My flight did arrive at ten,” she said.  “My ride never showed, and she never answered her cell phone.”

I was so shocked my jaw fell open.  “But I’ve had my cell phone with me all day!”  I dug in my pocketbook to prove it to her, but when I tried to pull up the Missed Calls list, the phone didn’t respond.  My battery was completely dead.  “Brenda, I’m so sor…”

“Just go.  Get out.  You need to find somewhere else to live.”

“But Brenda…”

“Do you have any idea what the cab fair is from the airport?”

I shook my head.

“Fifty-seven dollars.  Fifty seven dollars, Gabby.  If I’d wanted to spend that kind of money I would have just parked at the airport.”

“Brenda, please.  Let me make it up to you.  There has to be something I can do so you’ll forgive me.  I’ll do anything you want.”  Imagine my surprise when I noticed that I was, quite literally, on my knees, begging.

Brenda just held up her hands and backed away.

“Please…”

“What?  What could you do?  You don’t have any money for cab fare.  The things around the house that need to be done are already things I’ve asked you to do.  What can you possibly do to make it ‘all better?’”

“Anything.  Punish me.  Just don’t ask me to leave.”  I couldn’t believe what I’d just suggested.  But it was already out there.  I couldn’t take it back now.

Brenda laughed.  “Punish you?  You want me to spank you like a child?  I don’t think so.”

“No.  I don’t want you to spank me.  But if it will make up for what I’ve done I’d do it.  Please.  Just don’t ask me to leave.”  My eyes were starting to mist up.  She wasn’t going for it.  I could sense it.

Brenda shook her head in disbelief.  Then she turned and started toward her bedroom.  “Just pack your things and go, Gabby.  I’m tired.  I’m tired of traveling.  I’m tired of thinking.  I’m tired of dealing with you.  I’m just tired.  I want you to leave.”

The tears let loose.  I didn’t cry.  Not exactly.  But my voice broke as the tears streamed down my face.  “Please, Brenda, don’t do this.  I need you.”

Brenda stopped halfway down the hall and slowly turned.  I don’t know if it was the sound of my voice or the fact that I’d said that I needed her.  But it was the first moment of hope that I had.  Her eyes glistened with forming tears of her own as she spoke, but her voice was strong.  “If I do this, I’m not going to go easy on you.”

I nodded hopefully.  “I know.  I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Nothing else changes.  I still expect you to do your part around here.”

“I will.  I promise.”

She hesitated.  “Let me think about it.  I’m going to take a bath.  I need to relax for a while and clear my head.  I’ll talk to you later.”

I nodded without a word.  I didn’t want to say anything that might push her into changing her mind.  As she turned and walked away, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.  It seemed like the only option.  I didn’t have any money.  I didn’t think I could hold a job for very long in my present state of mind, especially without a place to live, and Brenda really didn’t need me around.  I was more an inconvenience than a help.  I vowed to do better, but I could only prove my value to her if I were allowed to stay.  And right now I had nothing to bargain with.  So I needed to show her that I was serious.  And allowing her to punish me seemed to be the only way to do that.

I sat in a chair that had a view down the hall.  I was nervous as hell.  Brenda could still say no, after all.  What would I do then?  My only option would be to move in with my mother and that would be a disaster.  We are two people who should never be allowed under the same roof for more than two hours in a row.  It’s been that way since I was a teenager.  It’s still that way.  Even at holiday gatherings.

An hour and a half later, when Brenda reappeared, she was wearing a short robe and looking refreshed.  But her face looked grim.  I didn’t hold out much hope, but I vowed not to cry again.  I was pretty sure that would just make it worse.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, Gabby…”

“It’s alright…” I was going to accept her refusal gracefully, but she interrupted me.

“Don’t talk.  Just listen.”  I nodded.  “It seems pretty ridiculous for a twenty-one year old to be spanking a twenty-seven year old.  I’m not even sure that a spanking would prove to be much of a deterrent.  But you are my sister.  As frustrating as it’s been the last few weeks, I still enjoy having you around.”

“Oh, Brenda…”

“Hush.  I’m going to do this.  It’s against my better judgment but I’m going to spank you for this.  But you need to know that if we go down this path then you can expect to be spanked for future transgressions as well.  You also need to know that it’s going to hurt.  If I do this, I’m going to take it seriously.”

I nodded again.

“You cost me fifty-seven dollars today.  Not to mention the frustration and anger.”

“I know.  I’m sorry,” I said, risking speaking again.

“If this is how you want to handle this, then come here.”

I hesitated, but only briefly.  Then, as confidently as I could, I walked over to stand in front of her.  She seemed to tower over me.  I was getting nervous but it was too late to back down.  Despite the appearance of having a choice, I truly felt as though I had none.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked.

I nodded almost imperceptibly.  As I did so, I shivered.  I wasn’t cold.  I was shivering in fear, in nervousness, in trepidation.  I was shivering in anticipation and excitement.  I stood in front of Brenda wearing a red cardigan and a short black skirt.  She glanced down briefly, looking me over, then blushed and looked away.

Brenda took a deep breath.  “Right.  Let’s get started then, shall we?”

She took a seat on the sofa then crooked a finger to call me closer.  Now it was my turn to take a deep breath.  When I was within reach, Brenda took my wrist and gently pulled me down and across her lap.  Still holding my wrist, she pulled it behind me and held it firmly at the small of my back.

“I’m going to spank you fifty-seven times.  I want you to count them off.”  And then she commenced.  I hadn’t been spanked since I was ten.  Actually, I take that back.  I was spanked by my Dad once when I was fourteen, but it was so unsettling to both of us that he didn’t even finish the strokes he’d told me I was going to receive.  He unceremoniously dumped me on the floor and I started getting placed on restrictions after that.  Brenda hit me a lot harder than my father ever did.  I was tempted to ask her to ease up but managed to concentrate on counting off the correct number while withholding any commentary.

It was a humiliating experience, but at the same time it was exhilarating.  I knew that Brenda loved me enough to do this even though she didn’t want to.  I almost wept for joy.  But then something started to happen to me.  Brenda was spreading out the swats so that no one area was hit too much.  By doing this, the places that had already been punished began to feel warm and tingly rather than painful.  With still more than a dozen swats to go, she had warmed my entire ass, left and right, top to bottom, and had moved on to my upper thighs.  It was then that I realized that I was aroused.  I found myself shifting slightly in her lap, trying to create an exquisite friction; trying to get off.

I wasn’t able to make it happen before I said the number fifty-seven.

When I stood, she briefly looked me in the eye then quickly looked away.

“Right,” she said.  “Let’s hope that this isn’t necessary very often.  Now go to your room.”

I hurried down the hall, trying to hold it together, but my body didn’t seem to want to cooperate.  I could barely walk.  Once in my room with the door closed, I collapsed to the floor.  My emotions were a jumble that I couldn’t decipher.  Embarrassment.  Humiliation.  Relief.  Joy.  Arousal.  It was the last that I didn’t fully understand.  I lay on the floor, weeping, confused.  Almost without thinking, my hand went between my legs and I started to masturbate.  So there I was, my ass in the air and my hand in my panties, when the door behind me opened suddenly.

“Gabby, I just wanted… Oh, my God!”

I tried to hide what I was doing, but I know there was no way it wasn’t obvious.  I was so busted.  By the time I was able to turn around, the door was closed again and Brenda was gone.  I collapsed again in another round of tears.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night and was up early.  I made coffee for Brenda and poured a bowl of cereal for myself.  As I ate robotically, my thoughts dwelled upon the horror of living with my mother.  I had to make this opportunity work but I couldn‘t see how Brenda would allow me to stay.

“Good morning,” Brenda said from behind me.  I jumped in surprise.

“Good morning,” I replied sheepishly.

Brenda poured herself a cup of coffee and sat across from me holding her mug in both hands.  I was nervous and embarrassed as she watched me, but I tried to concentrate on finishing my cereal.  We sat in silence until I was nearly finished eating.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fine.”  Why was it so difficult to hold a normal conversation?

“I’m sorry I walked in on you last night.  I should have knocked.”

I blushed furiously.

“The spanking turned you on, didn’t it?”  Her tone was so neutral that I couldn’t tell how she would feel about my response.  It was as if she merely wanted me to confirm an observed fact.  I had no choice but to be honest.

“Yes.”  Incredibly I blushed even more.

“This isn’t the first time, is it?”

“No.”  I almost sobbed, but managed to hold on.

“Do you remember when I was eight and Daddy spanked you that last time?  I was watching.  You enjoyed that spanking, too, didn’t you?”

“Oh, God.”  I could barely breathe.  Brenda knew.  She had probably known all along.  “Yes.”

“Did you know that I never got a spanking after that day either?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“In fact, I was never allowed to sit in Daddy’s lap again, he would never wash my hair while I was in the tub, I was never able to just be his little girl.”

“Oh, God…”

“From that day on, Daddy was always worried about seeing us as young women.  He could never see us as his little girls.”  I saw a tear fall down Brenda’s cheek.

“Brenda, I’m so sorry.”

“Did you have an orgasm?”

I wasn’t sure which time she meant, last night or when I was fourteen, but the answer was the same.  “No.”

“Did you want one?”

This time I did sob.  “Yes.”  That was also true, regardless.

Brenda was quiet.

“Was it the pain or the humiliation that turned you on?” she asked finally.

“I don’t know.  Probably a little bit of both, but mostly the humiliation.”

“You’ve had time to calm down.  Time to think.  Now I have an important question for you.  Do you want to cum when I punish you?”  I only had to consider the question for a moment before nodding my head in shame.

“Say it.”

“Brenda, please…”  I was getting turned on again.  The prospect of my younger sister spanking me while knowing the effect it was having, and continuing to do so until I finally got what I needed… well, the thought was almost too much to ask for.

“Say it, or I’ll never spank you again.”  She was going to make me admit it.

“I want to cum when you punish me.”

There, I’d said it.  Brenda was quiet again.  So was I.

“Is this going to be a one time thing, Gabby?  Will we be done with these little punishment sessions after you finally get what you wanted all those years ago?  Do you think you’ll be able to go back to being a normal sister after this?”

I shook my head slowly.  “No, I don’t think so.”

“Hmph.  I don’t think so either.”

I sobbed again.  I had bared my soul to Brenda.  I had revealed something that I even tried to hide from myself.

“Come here.”  I rushed into her open arms.  “Daddy didn’t stop loving you, Gabby.  He simply stopped punishing you.”

I couldn’t help but break into fully gut-wrenching sobs.  I cried and cried, unable to regain control of myself and not really trying that hard to do so.  Brenda simply held me tight, rubbing my back and occasionally kissing away the tears.  So many things were explained in that little revelation.  I suppose that it’s nothing a few hundred hours in front of a shrink wouldn’t have revealed, but, then again, a shrink would have tried to cure me.  As sad as I was at the loss of my father, as much as it explained the difficulties between my mother and me, as sharply as it brought into focus the skewed relationship that I had managed to create with my sister, I didn’t want to be cured.  Brenda understood me better than I understood myself.  A relationship with my mother wasn’t worth thousands of dollars in therapy.  And my father had passed away and I could never get him back.  I was accepting things as they were.  I was actually happy for the first time since I was a kid.  A few minutes later, after I had recovered a bit, I had to ask Brenda a question that burned in me.

“Brenda, are you okay with me being like this?”

It took her a while to answer, but I waited patiently.  “Yes.  At least for now.  But you have to promise me something.  If I ever stop punishing you, you have to believe that I still love you.”

Submission

Chapter 2

Even now, it still surprises me that I was able to go eighteen months with barely a thought to sex, yet in the two weeks following that “morning after” conversation with Brenda I could think of little else.  I was in a weird place, and those two weeks both clarified and confused my feelings.

I know part of it was that I hadn’t had an orgasm in nearly two years, and the last one I had was more or less an accident.  My husband hadn’t really been trying at the time.  It just sort of happened.  My abbreviated attempt at masturbation after Brenda’s spanking was more the exception than the rule.  I’d never really done that on a regular basis.  Essentially, over the last few years I’d become asexual.

Brenda awoke something in me that I’d forgotten.  And now that it was awake, it wouldn’t go back to sleep.  And this is where my mind started working overtime.  I wanted to please her so much.  I worked very hard around the house; cleaning, doing laundry, running errands.  But my desire to please was counterbalanced by the fact that the sum total of my recent sex life was a single spanking that left me constantly aroused.

As the month of May drew to a close, I’d fallen into a comfortable routine.  I’d actually begun to feel halfway normal.  Well, as normal as one can be when you’re having fantasies about your own sister.  I suppose that the idea of an incestuous lesbian b/d affair should have bothered me.  Putting aside the facts that I wasn’t a lesbian and I wasn’t actually having an affair, I convinced myself that they were just fantasies.  I ignored the very real possibility that the basis of these fantasies would come true quite soon.

And so it was that at nine o’clock on a Thursday evening I was in my room surfing the internet and catching up on my e-mail when I heard Brenda call me from the living room.  As I saw her sitting primly in the center of the sofa, my gut tightened.  With halting steps I walked over to stand in front of her.  I couldn’t even look up.

“You’ve done very well the last couple of weeks.”

I looked up, relieved, and smiled just a bit.  “Really?”

“Really.  You got a lot done.  And you’re an excellent cook.  I never knew.”  She smiled warmly.  “I’m very proud of you.”

My smile grew.  “Thanks.”  I almost blushed.  When I was married, I rarely cooked.  My husband and I both worked, and it was a toss-up as to which of us would wind up working later.  Of course, thinking back on how our marriage ended, Brad probably wasn’t working on those late nights.  Regardless, it wasn’t until recently that I realized how much I enjoyed cooking.  And I really enjoyed cooking for someone who appreciated it.

“You only forgot one thing,” Brenda continued.

My sense of relief vanished in an instant.

“The coffee…”  I didn’t even need to hear the rest as I spun to go take care of the coffee maker.  “Come back, Gabby.  I’ve already done it.”

I shuffled back to stand in front of her.  “I’m so sorry, Brenda.  I’ve been trying so hard.”

“But…”  I cocked my head, unsure what she thought I was going to say.  “You don’t think this is worthy of punishment, do you?”

“No, that’s… I mean… I do think it’s… um, I just screwed up.  I know I did.”

“Do you want me to punish you for this?”

I couldn’t believe that she’d placed the decision back in my court.  I was torn.  It was such a trivial thing, especially when examined within the context of the entire day, or week for that matter.  And yet, I screwed up.  If this didn’t count, at what point would it?  Where was the threshold?  If I said no now, how bad did I have to be before I would say yes?  And there was something else… simply put, I was horny.

“Yes,” I whispered, finally.

“You want me to punish you for forgetting to clean the coffee maker?”

“Yes.”  My voice was a little stronger this time.

“Then tell me so.”

“I want you to punish me for forgetting to clean the coffee maker.”

Brenda nodded.  “Very well.  Put yourself across my knee.”

She didn’t grab my wrist this time.  She was essentially making me do this to myself.  I had to make the decision.  I had to get into position.  Brenda wasn’t making me do anything.  It was awkward, but I knelt at her side and then lifted myself into position.  I was shocked when I felt her lift the hem of my skirt and place it on my back, but I also noticed that my nipples had hardened almost immediately.

“Give me your right hand,” she ordered.

When I shifted my balance and lifted my hand, Brenda took me by the wrist and held it against my lower back.  I noticed that the shift in balance almost forced me to keep my feet apart.  Once my feet were spread for balance and my wrist was pinned, I felt her grab my panties with her free hand and bunch them into a T shape, pulling them into the crack of my ass.  The tugging sent a powerful energy through me and my clit began to throb.

“Gabby, I think fifty-seven is a good number.  I want you to count again.”

The spanking seemed to hurt a lot more this time with nothing between Brenda’s hand and my ass.  By the time she moved to my bare thigh I couldn’t keep from squirming.  I was so aroused that I was using what little leverage I could manage to grind my pelvis on Brenda’s thigh.  When it was over, I was short of breath but I hadn’t cum.  Part of me was angry.  After our discussion at the breakfast table, I thought that Brenda understood what it was that I needed.  Then I chided myself for assuming Brenda had any inclination to fulfill my fantasies.  Isn’t that an unreasonable expectation to have of your own sister?

“Are you okay?” she asked as I eased myself back into a kneeling position.

I nodded.  I wanted to run back to my room to masturbate but I stayed as I was.

“I’m proud of you, Gabby.  I always have been.”

I smiled meekly.

“A coffee maker is a pretty minor thing.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you ask for the spanking?”

“Because if I didn’t, I’d then have to decide when something was too trivial to deserve punishment.  It’s just easier to say that if it’s something I should have done and didn’t then it’s worthy of punishment.”  I didn’t mention that I’d been able to think of little else since the last one.

“You’re a good girl.  Do you want to cum?”

I’d just finished convincing myself that it was something I was going to have to take care of on my own, and now she’s doing it again.  She’s making me make the choice.  She’s forcing me to admit that I’m… what?  A pain slut?  An exhibitionist?  No.  I’m not sure what it was that I was admitting to, I just knew that I had to admit it.

“Yes,” I answered with a shudder.

Brenda nodded.  “Perhaps we’ll take care of that one day.”

Brenda left me kneeling there as she went to her room.  I sat in shock for a few minutes, before I too went to bed.  I thought about masturbating, but Brenda had said ‘one day’.

Unfortunately, that day didn’t arrive any time soon.  I was so intent on doing a good job around the house that there honestly wasn’t that much to get in trouble for.  It’s not as if Brenda followed me around with a white glove inspecting my work.  Even though she was home most of the time, she was usually in her office writing.  On the few occasions I did screw up, whether big or small, I always received exactly fifty-seven strokes, and invariably I was left extremely turned on but unable to get over the edge.  Oddly enough, I never masturbated again.  I never even considered it.  She never told me that I couldn’t take care of my needs before then, but I decided to wait for that one day.  I suppose that I assumed that Brenda would decide when it was time for me to get the orgasm I’d craved for so long.

As May became June, and then July, my frustration level became almost unbearable.  I know that I could’ve simplified my life and taken matters into my own hands, but part of the thrill of it all was the fact that I had this self-imposed restriction.  I dreaded getting into trouble even as I craved it.  My biggest worry was that Brenda might be having second thoughts about helping me with my little problem.

My growing frustration level and the distraction that it caused would soon directly result in Brenda ramping up my humiliation a notch.

I’d started having some really erotic, and disturbing, dreams.  They would start with me being spanked, and, as usual, by the time I reached the count of fifty-seven I would be so turned on that I would do anything for a good cum.  In my dreams, Brenda would roll me onto my back and within a few licks and one little nibble I would have a mind-blowing orgasm.  When I would pull her face up to kiss her, instead of Brenda’s face, it would be mine… covered in my own juices.  Like I said… really disturbing, and not just because of the impossibility of giving myself oral pleasure.

So it was the morning after one of these dreams that I just wasn’t paying attention and set a carton of orange juice on the counter only to discover that I’d set less than half of it on the counter.  It tipped, fell to the kitchen floor, and exploded.  Juice went everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  My first thought was to get it cleaned up before Brenda saw it, but there was no way.  She’d be out for her coffee in a few minutes.  This was just going to take too long.  So, knowing I was in for a spanking to practically start off my day, I grabbed a bucket and a sponge and knelt down to get started cleaning.

When Brenda poured her coffee, she didn’t say anything; just tried not to track juice anywhere else, then sat at the table and watched me for a while as she got her first caffeine fix of the day.  Finally, she got bored with that and stood to pour a second cup.

“When you’re finished there, come into the living room and we’ll take care of your punishment.  I’m going to watch the news for a while before I get started on my day.”

The punishment that morning wasn’t really anything unusual.  If you’re used to being spanked by your younger sister once or twice a week, that is.  The problem was that I was already incredibly turned on and being spanked simply cranked me up to an even higher level.  Brenda did pause in the middle of the spanking and softly rub my ass for a few minutes, so on second thought, I suppose it was a little unusual.  She’d never done that before.  I suspect that she paused to keep me from having an orgasm because I truly believe I was on the verge of a massive one.

What set that day apart was not the five minutes of ass rubbing.  It was the fact that I was so wound up that I screwed up again later in the day.  It wasn’t even noon yet when I dropped the vacuum cleaner bag that I was changing and sent a cloud of dust over half Brenda’s office.  I’d never been punished twice in one day before.

Normally, Brenda isn’t really mad at me when I screw up.  It’s a ritual.  One that we’ve successfully used to help me be a better roommate.  But this time she was really quiet, so I knew she was fuming inside.  Finally, she told me that she was going to have lunch with her editor and that we would deal with “the situation” when she got back.

For the next three hours, I cleaned the office.  Top to bottom, I thoroughly cleaned everything that could possibly have been affected.  I wiped down her reference shelf, all of the knickknacks, her framed photographs, mostly of the two of us through the years.  I even dusted underneath things like her computer monitor and the clock radio.  Then I sat in the living room and waited.  And worried.  As time passed, I worried more.  I wasn’t worried about my punishment.  I knew what to expect there.  No, I was worried about Brenda.  Normally for these lunches she wasn’t gone for more than two hours, three at the most.  It was nearly dinner time before she returned.

She ignored me as she passed through the living room and went to her office.  After a few minutes, I heard her on the phone but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.  Then she ignored me again as she passed through on the way to the kitchen.  Finally, drink in hand, she sat down on the sofa and sighed heavily.  I could smell the rum in her Diet Coke.

It was difficult, but I didn’t say anything.  I just waited.

“I ordered Chinese tonight,” she said when she finally broke the silence.  “It’ll be here in about thirty minutes.”

I simply nodded.

“You’ve been a bit of a klutz today, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“What?  No!”  She looked at me suspiciously.

“Are you sure?  I would understand if you were.  You’ve been a bit… on edge lately.”  So she had noticed.  Had she been doing this to me on purpose?  Had she been intentionally frustrating me?  If so, why?

“Brenda, I swear.  I would never have done that on purpose.  Not in your office.”  Brenda’s office was her sanctuary.  No matter what was happening with the business side of being an author, she was happy in her office when she was writing.  Even when she was dealing with a case of writer’s block, her office was the place where she could create her own world.  I couldn’t purposely take that from her.

She put her drink on the coffee table and told me to come to her.

It’s hard to describe what I was feeling as I stood from the chair I was in and crossed the room.  Of course I was nervous and excited, but I was also… confident.  I knew that I wanted this.  Outwardly, I was demure.  Inside, my heart was racing.

Brenda didn’t say anything when I stood in front of her so I took this as a signal to put myself into position.  I was wrong.  She stopped me before I could kneel at her side.

“Take off your panties first.”

“What?”  My confidence was gone.  This was new.  It seems strange as I look back on it.  I’d spent the better part of two months hoping for an orgasm at my sister’s hand and yet I balked at the idea of taking off my panties for a spanking.  This step would change things.  It would become less about punishment and move us more obviously into the realm of sex.  It was what I wanted and dreamed about.  But the reality of it was difficult to get my head around.

“Take them off, Gabby.  You won’t be wearing them for the rest of the evening.”

I stood there without moving.  It was only six o’clock.  We hadn’t even eaten yet.  It would probably be four of five hours before I went to my room for the night.  That was a long time to go without panties.

“Fine,” Brenda said, interrupting my thoughts.  “You can go a week without panties.  Now take them off.”

“A week?  Brenda, I’ve got things to do… I have to go to the dry cleaners to pick up your suits.  There’s grocery shopping.  I can’t...”

“A month it is, then.”  I saw her smile wryly.  “Do you want to go for a year or are you going to give in and just do what I tell you to?”

I felt ridiculous as I tried to push down my panties without flashing my sister.  I knew that in a matter of minutes she was going to have an up close view of my bare ass, but for some reason I was still trying to protect my modesty.  Which of course went completely out the window a few moments later when I was finally in position.

Brenda’s slaps were unbelievably hard.  She wasn’t spreading them out either.  She was concentrating on the bits I’d be sitting on later.  Though I was obviously aroused, this little episode confirmed for me that I was not a pain slut.  The pain kept me from cumming.

I jumped at the sound of the doorbell.

“That’ll be our dinner.”  She quickly delivered the final five strokes directly between my legs.  I suspect that Brenda hadn’t hit me as hard as she had on my ass, but it was still agony.  I couldn’t count.  I could barely breathe.  The doorbell rang again.

I was still gasping when she pushed me up to my feet.

“Get some money from my purse on the counter and bring our dinner into the kitchen.”

As I paid the boy from the Chinese place, I imagined that he heard the end of my spanking.  I imagined that he knew I wasn’t wearing panties; that he could tell by my flushed appearance and my shallow breathing that I was on the verge of an orgasm.  I imagined that he simply lifted the front of my skirt and wiggled his thumb over my clit until I collapsed in a heap.  Instead he just smiled at the tip, gave a quick little bow, and left me standing at the door trying not to touch myself.

As we ate, I had trouble sitting still.  Part of it was the pain in my ass, but I also had an itch that I couldn’t satisfy.  I seriously considered breaking my own rule and giving myself some relief.  Not quite as seriously, I considered doing it right there at the dinner table.  Brenda laughed as if she’d read my thoughts.

“You are a sight, Gabby.”

I blushed, but smiled shyly.  “I guess I am.”

I shifted in my seat again before picking up a piece of chicken with my chopsticks.  It was really good.  I’d have to figure out how to cook it myself.  And with that thought still in my mind, I surprised myself by asking a non sequitur:

“Brenda, are you ever going to let me cum?”

Unbelievably, it was Brenda’s turn to blush.  Somehow, as I went through this process of becoming… whoever the hell it was that I was in the process of becoming… I’d forgotten that Brenda was going through her own change.  She wasn’t naturally dominant.  Hell, naturally, she was a loner.  That’s part of what she likes about being an author.

“I’m sorry, Brenda.  I didn’t mean… well…”

“It’s okay.  That’s a fair question.”

“I’m just getting so frustrated sometimes… you know?  It would be easier if I knew where it was all going.  That’s all.”

Brenda didn’t answer at first.  She just dug around in her rice looking for shrimp.  “How long has it been since… you know?”

“Since Brad.”

She looked up, surprised.  “Oh!  I didn’t know.  You haven’t been… you mean you’re not… Oh!”  She flushed a bit more and returned her concentration to the rice in front of her.  Finally, she answered my question.  “Gabby, I’m not sure.  Probably.”

I nodded.  She couldn’t see me, of course, but I was nodding more to myself anyway.

Brenda continued, “I mean… well, it’s just that I thought it would be easier.  For me I mean.  It’s just that I’m not… I’ve never been with… I don’t know.  I guess I thought I could be more mechanical about it.”  She looked up again, searching my eyes.  “You know?”

“Yeah.”  I knew.  Feelings; they were something neither of us had thought to consider.

She smiled warmly and reached across the table to hold my hand.

“Besides, it’s fun to see you squirm.  You’re very cute like that.”

Now it was my turn to blush again.  I’m not sure why I felt better.  Nothing had been resolved.  I still had no idea where this was heading, and apparently neither did my sister.  I wasn’t sure how long I would have to hold out.  Or even if I could.

But she’d said ‘probably’.

I couldn’t help but smile back at her.  And grimace a bit as I shifted my weight again.