Jennifer wished she were in the bathroom with the door locked. In school enduring gym. Sitting in the doctor's office, awaiting a gynecological exam. Anywhere, other than over her brother's knee. She yowled in pain.
"David! David, stop!"
David's right hand came down with a resounding smack, making the flesh of her bottom compress and rebound, making Jennifer howl again.
David spanked her again.
Bare-bottomed, her jeans and panties down around her knees, Jennifer's rear end bore a profusion of white-rimmed hand prints. They tattooed both her cheeks equally, and David spanked her left cheek again.
"Owww!" Jennifer wailed. Tears poured down her cheeks and were sniffed back into her nose. She could not remember this much pain, not even at the hands of her father. "Owww!" she cried again. "Stop it!"
"What do you say?" David demanded. His hand covered her left cheek.
David spanked her again.
"Please!" she cried.
"I want to hear it," David said. "Loud and without question. Say it or I'll strip you bare and really paddle you"
Jennifer began to kick and dig at him with her nails.
"Okay, that's it." He stood her up and placed Jennifer before him. "Take off you're panties and your jeans," he ordered.
"No!" she pleaded, clutching the waist of her jeans. "I can't!"
"Take them off now," David ordered, "or I'll carry you into the living room and spank you in front of the windows."
It was eight-thirty p.m., dark outside, and Jennifer felt petrified he might do it. In fact, she knew he would. And at 18 years old, Jennifer could not risk being seen spanked by her brother. Stoop-shoulder and miserable, she kicked off her shoes, then removed her panties and jeans. She wanted to hold her aching behind but kept her arms at her sides. Her rear end felt like a bee sting convention. David pointed at his lap.
"David, please! Don't you remem--"
"Now, Jennifer Lynne!"
Sobbing, Jennifer did as instructed.
"Say it," David said.
Jennifer continued to weep, saying nothing.
Immobilizing her wrists with his left hand, holding them at the small of her back, he spanked Jennifer half a dozen times.
"Say it, Jenn, or it's a full dozen more."
When she still said nothing, a dozen more rained down on her bare behind. Tears cascaded onto the carpet, and strings of mucus dangled from her nose. Her bottom was a battlefield of red and white and blue. And still she refused to speak.
David stood her up.
"The rest of it," he said, indicating her sweater, and presumably her brassiere. Jennifer continued to weep and David stood and dragged her toward the bedroom door.
"All right, all right!" she yelled. She yanked off her sweater and then her brassiere. Her nipples pointed like accusatory fingers. Her chest heaved with each breath.
"Why don't you just say it?" David demanded.
Jennifer shook her head.
David smacked his thighs in exasperation. "You are the most pigheaded thing I have ever seen!" Then he yelled, "Don't you move!" and charged from the room. Jennifer heard him pounding down the stairs to the basement.
Knowing her punishment would be twice as bad if she moved--and loathing herself for her weakness--Jennifer remained where she was until David returned. He brought a long wooden paddle with him, a souvenir of the days when their dad had spanked them both. Jennifer's face tightened with fear.
"Put your hands on top of your head," David ordered.
Continuing to sob, Jennifer obeyed.
"Say it!" David exclaimed. "And all this will stop!"