Tanya
Copyright© 2025 by PlatinumIce
Chapter 1
“You ready yet?”
Tanya Richmond looked over towards the doorway, vaguely annoyed at the intrusion. At barely ••••• years old, she’d begun to resent her bother’s constant policing of her behavior. Worse still, he had absolutely no respect for her privacy, particularly when she was getting dressed. She’d complained to her mother about it just last week, but she’d dismissed her protests with a laugh: Ross had seen her naked since the day she was born, what was the big deal? Wasn’t like she had anything to hide.
“You ready yet?” he repeated.
“No, I’m not,” Tanya replied with a touch of petulance, and turned back to the mirror. At least he hadn’t caught her completely naked this time. She stood in the middle of the bedroom in her sheer white panties, meticulously stroking the twists out of her long, blonde hair. A pastel yellow sundress had been laid over the end of her bed, along with a pair of frilly white ankle socks. The clock on the dresser read 8.10.
Ross stepped into the room, a tall, loping teenager with a denim jacket and the take-no-prisoners attitude peculiar to his generation.
“Yeah, well, Mom said to get a move on,” he informed him, “so stop dawdling about and let me do that.”
“Hey!” Tanya protested as Ross took the brush from his hands. A moment later, he was herding her towards the bed, applying a good-natured slap to her bottom for good measure. Tanya gave a yelp of surprise; it didn’t really hurt, but she absolutely hated being treated like an infant. He was always barging into her room and acting like he owned the place. Brothers were like that: thought they owned the whole damned world (which wasn’t that far from the truth, as she was beginning to discover).
“OK, hold still,” he instructed. Seating himself on the bed, he made her stand between his denim knees, facing the mirror so he could finish untangling her hair. Tanya settled into position without a struggle. Ross was much stronger than she was; she’d learned a long time ago that resistance was useless. That didn’t stop her from voicing her objections, however.
“Why can’t Mommy do my hair?” she moped disconsolately, “it hurts when you do it.” She winced as the brush encountered a particularly obstinate twist.
“She’s busy dishing up breakfast,” Ross replied, readjusting his grip on the brush, “told me to come upstairs and make sure you weren’t late for school again.”
“I wasn’t late last time. I was getting ready.”
“You were late because you wanted to try on every dress in the closet,” he countered without missing a beat, “that’s why I laid your clothes out while you were in the shower.”
“Well, I don’t want to wear that old thing,” she complained, looking down at the short yellow dress, “I want to wear the one with the strawberries on the front.”
“You wore that yesterday,” Ross reminded her, breathing in her sweet, subtle child-scent. Her hair smelt of baby shampoo and freshly sliced apples.
“I don’t care. It’s my favourite and I want it.”
Ross chose to ignore her. She didn’t really want to wear the strawberry-frock, she was simply testing the limits, the way she did most mornings. Mom said her contrary moods were perfectly natural for a child her age, so they had to be patient – firm, but patient all the same. Ross thought he understood what she meant. The Little Ones were as fragile as pink carnations, everyone knew that.
Anyway, he quite enjoyed these forced grooming sessions.
Placing a hand on her smooth waist, he ran her fingertips along the trim of her panties, grazing her belly button in the process. His touch was gentle, gliding over her pale skin with a silken whisper. Tanya shifted slightly in his arms, though she didn’t pull away from his feather-light caress. Her complexion darkened as a warm flush spread through her tummy. Part of it was simple modesty: she’d become increasingly self-conscious about her body over the past few months (another reason why she resented his constant invasions of her personal zones).
But there was also a touch of anticipation in her shallow breathing and cantering heartbeat. Gooseflesh hummed across her shoulders as his fingers slid up her torso. Being stripped to her panties added to this sense of unwilling pleasure. Ross was a boy, he had no right to see him undressed, and yet her head was spinning with excitement. It was sort of like being tickled against your will: part of you loved being helpless and secretly hoped it would never stop.
“Okay,” Ross said, laying the brush aside and tying her hair back in two long ponytails. He turned the girl around and looked her up and down, flicking an errant curl out of her face. Tanya had always been an unusually pretty little girl, with her clipped button nose and tiny, sensuous mouth. Her frost-blue eyes were large and solemn, the kind of eyes that could melt a grown man’s heart with a single glance.
“You ready to climb into that dress now?” he asked, knowing she’d probably refuse just out of principle.
“No,” he replied, “I want to wear the pink one.”
“Well, you can’t,” Ross told her, picking up the sunfrock, “it’s in the wash. Everything’s in the wash; this is the only thing you’ve got left.”
“Don’t want to,” she answered sulkily, “I don’t like it.” She looked down at her feet, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Why not?” he coaxed.
“It’s too short. Looks like a baby-dress”
“You are a baby.”
“No I’m not,” Tanya pouted, “I’m ten.”
“You’re nine. Anyway, it’s either this, or walk to school in your underwear.”
Tanya’s eyes flickered in momentarily surprise.
“What?” she said after a brief pause.