Chapter 2

The Samantha who shuffled warily into the kitchen that afternoon was a very different young woman to the one who had stumbled through the front door early in the morning. She had been out all night and come home drunk yet again. At the end of their tethers, her parents had phoned her Uncle Jack and asked him to help. Jack had a different approach to discipline - a much harsher, less forgiving approach. Samantha had been well punished for her disobedience. Her backside and pussy were both sore, and would stay that way for days to come. Now she was going to discover the rules she had to follow if she was to avoid further painful punishments at his hands.

″You'll want to stay standing, I reckon.″ Uncle Jack said. He was right. Four people were seated at the kitchen table: in addition to her parents and Jack there was Anthony, her hated eighteen year old brother, smirking right at her.

It was Jack who took the lead again. ″I've had a chat to your parents about rules and we've got an agreement. We've told Anthony you're being punished - he could hardly have missed it with all that noise you were making. So, let's talk about how this is going to work.″ Samantha nodded dejectedly.

″First, ″ Jack continued ″you are going to draw up and sign a contract with your parents. You will agree to revise properly, not go out until after your exams, go to school on time, work hard - just the normal things you'd expect to be doing. You're an intelligent girl - there won't be any surprises. As far as possible that's to be agreed between you and your mum and dad, but they get the final say. OK?″ She nodded again.

″There's something else as well.″ Jack looked stern. ″The problem I've found in the past is that it's just too easy for young women like yourself to slip back into bad habits. You'll sign the contract with the best of intentions, then the weeks go by. Revising gets more and more boring, the party invitations from your friends sound better and better and before you know it I'm having to come back over with the stool and the belt. None of us want that. So there'll be one extra part of the agreement, and it's non-negotiable. It's there to be a reminder. For one hour each week, between six and seven in the evening every Sunday, you have to do whatever you're told in the house.″

Samantha was a little surprised, but just shrugged. She guessed she'd have to do what she was told the rest of the time too. As Jack explained, though, this was a little different.

″When I say 'do what you're told' I don't mean do your homework, eat your dinner and go to bed on time. I mean that if anyone in this house tells you to do something you have to do it right away and without complaint. Your mum asks for a cup of tea, you make it. Your dad tells you to clean the bathroom, you do it. If you don't, I'll be calling round.″

″So I have to do anything at all mum or dad tell me to for that hour?″ Sam asked.

″You have to do anything anyone in the house tells you to.″ Jack looked pointedly at her younger brother. Sam's eyes widened. Taking orders from her parents was one thing, but from that spotty little shit? She opened her mouth to argue, but then she remembered sitting on the stool, and the belt coming down on her backside, and she closed it again. Anthony was smiling broadly.

″There are four rules for the hour, ″ Jack continued. ″One, you've got to be here. No excuses, no 'I couldn't quite make it this week'. If you're not here, I'll be over and you'll have plenty of time sitting on the stool to explain why being somewhere else was so much more important. Two, no-one can touch you - simple rule, but important. Three, no-one can hurt you. Four, no-one can make you do something that results in you being hurt. If you're told to walk into a door, you don't have to do it. That's it. You and your mum and dad will agree the contract this afternoon and it starts right away, so your first obedience hour is six o'clock tomorrow evening.″

Jack gathered his things and headed out, with Anthony looking after him and wondering just what the deal with the stool was.

The weeks dragged by for Samantha. At least she could sit down by the next day but, as she found with daily checks in the mirror, the marks from her punishment remained for a lot longer even if they were slowly fading. She spent the hour on her Sunday evenings as an unpaid skivvy, fetching drinks, cleaning and tidying. While at home during the week she wasn't allowed to vanish up to her room. Instead she was kept downstairs under the watchful eyes of her parents, slogging her way through revision book after revision book. She knew her exams were getting nearer by the day and she understood how important they were, but it didn't make it any easier.

It was nearly a month later that her parents announced they would be going to see a show that Sunday afternoon and wouldn't be home for her regular Sunday evening hour. Sam's only thought was that she would get a week off from fetching and carrying, cleaning and tidying. Her first exam was just a couple of weeks away and she had managed to keep to the rules - much to her relief, there had been no need for Uncle Jack to pay another visit. In the month since he'd last come it was only her parents who had given her orders in those Sunday evenings sessions. Anthony hadn't said a word and she had quite forgotten that he too was allowed to tell her what to do. Her younger brother had not forgotten.

In fact, Anthony had thought of little else since his parents said they would be out, and had spent a lot of time thinking about what he could get his sister to do while staying within the rules. He couldn't touch her and he couldn't do anything that would hurt her but, with a bit of creative thinking, that left a lot of possibilities. The question was, would she go along with it? He didn't know, but it had to be worth a try. He had heard his sister screaming and crying when Uncle Jack had last visited and, although he hadn't figured out what the deal with the stool was, he knew it wasn't an experience Sam wanted to repeat. As long as he stayed within the rules, he hoped she would be too nervous of being punished to risk disobeying him, even though she would hate every moment of it. Confidence would be the key - if he looked as unsure as he felt, his older sister would just ignore him.

Sunday came, and dragged on. Their parents left after lunch, saying they'd be back later in the evening. Samantha and Anthony were alone in the house. As six o'clock approached, Anthony knew he'd have to be forceful.

″Come here, Sam.″ he called out as the clock ticked over to six.

″Get lost, I'm busy.″ his sister called back from somewhere upstairs.

″No, come here now. It's six o'clock.″

″So?″

″So you have to do what I say.″

″Don't be stupid, you're not my dad.″

″Doesn't matter. You signed the contract and it says you've got to obey orders from anyone who's in the house. Right now, that's me.″

″Piss off, Anthony.″

″OK, no problem. I'll just call Uncle Jack.″ He picked up the phone and started to dial, pausing at the second to last number. He waited. One ... two ... three. Just as he was about to hit the final button, Sam burst in to the front room.

″What the fuck are you on about?″ she demanded.

″It's not hard, Sis.″ said Anthony, putting down the phone. ″The agreement you signed quite clearly says that between six and seven on a Sunday evening you have to obey instructions from anyone who's in this house. I know - I can't touch you and I can't hurt you - no intention of doing either of those. But I have an hour to order you about and if you don't do what I say, I'll call Uncle Jack and we'll see what happens.″

She stared at him. At eighteen, Anthony shared his sister's skinniness, but while her body had attracted a long line of boyfriends over the last few years his knobbly knees, pointed elbows and awkward manner hadn't proven to be much of a hit with the ladies - he had yet to be in a serious relationship. He was right though. She wasn't going to admit it to him, but she could remember Uncle Jack saying about anyone being able to order her around. He was hardly likely to be sympathetic if she refused now.

″What do you want, then?″ she asked coldly.

″A cup of tea please.″ she turned to go, but he spoke again. ″Oh, Sam... ″

″Yes?″

″Take your top off.″

″What?″ she spun round - what the hell was this?

″Take your top off. I wasn't going to ask but since I could already call Uncle Jack and let him know that you've spent the first five minutes of the hour arguing instead of obeying me, I think it's not unreasonable.″ That was a lie of course, he was always going to tell her to remove her T-shirt, but he thought it gave it a little more weight.

″No way - fuck off. You can't ask me to do that.″

″I can ask and I am. It's completely within the rules, Sam. I'm not going touch you and I can't imagine it's painful to take it off.″ She considered. She could call his bluff. Would he really phone Uncle Jack? And if he did, would their uncle agree with him? Maybe not, but Jack had been quick enough to strip her completely naked the last time they met so there was a good chance he'd say it was in the rules and she was the one disobeying. A vision of the stool came back to her, then of her sore backside being beaten over and again with his belt. No, she couldn't risk it, and so what if her brother saw her bra - big deal.

″Alright you little pervert, I'll do it.″

″Good, and let's stop the insults - or shall I order you not to speak at all for the next hour?″

Anthony was over the moon as his sister pulled her T-shirt off over her head and threw it down on a chair. Underneath a flat stomach rose to a simple cotton bra covering her small breasts. Above the bra cups, dark blue veins were clearly visible in her soft flesh that curved towards her shapely neck. The first hurdle was cleared, but how far could he go? How far did he dare to go?

A couple of minutes later, Samantha returned with his tea, scowling as she lent over to give it to him.

″Thank you Sam - now kneel down on the floor.″

″What?″

″Look, this is going to get very boring if I have to give every instruction two or three times. Get on your knees here, in front of me.″

Glaring at him, she lowered herself onto her knees and crossed her arms over her chest.

″Hold your hands together behind your back.″

Slowly, she unfolded her arms, put them behind her back and linked her fingers together. It had the effect of pulling her breasts up slightly as she pulled her shoulders back. He was happy to let her stay there while he drank his tea - he was enjoying the view and his sister's discomfort.

A few minutes later he drained his cup and smiled. ″Now take off your jeans - and to save time let's assume we've had the same discussion all over again so your choice is to take them off or have me call Uncle Jack.″

The look she gave him could have soured milk as she stood up and wriggled out of her faded blue jeans. Above her slender legs she wore a black thong which she clearly wasn't expecting to have to reveal to anyone. It left little to the imagination from the rear, displaying her tight backside in all its glory. There were no marks left from her punishment at the hands of Uncle Jack weeks before.

Anthony was enjoying the view of his sister stood in front of him in just her bra and very skimpy knickers, and the fact she hated every moment but had to make herself do it anyway added to his pleasure. But, he thought, it wasn't sensible to push too far.

″I'm feeling generous, Sam. We've got nearly 45 minutes left but I'll be kind. I want you to crawl around the front room five times on your hands and knees, touching the TV and the kitchen door on each circuit. When you've done that you are free to go and I won't ask any more from you today.″

She scowled, but all the same got down on all fours and began her circuits. Round and round she went, breasts bouncing just a little as she moved, smooth, pale bottom on display. Her brown shoulder-length hair fell down in front of her face. Her knees were getting sore scraping against the carpet and she tried hard to keep her thighs tight together as best she could. I won't give the little creep any more of a view than I have to, she thought, but all the same she felt more exposed than she had expected. She tried telling herself that she was dressed no more revealingly than when she wore a bikini at the beach, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than to run away and hide. She could feel his eyes on her with every movement, imagine in her mind's eye the view she was offering up in that tight little thong.

″Happy now?″ She asked, picking up her clothes when she finished her circuits.

″Yes, thank you.″ Anthony replied. ″And don't blame me - you're the one who got yourself into this and it's your signature on the agreement.″

Three more weeks went by, with Samantha and her brother barely exchanging a word. She started her exams, which seemed to go well as far as she could tell, and returned to the usual Sunday night routine with their parents at home. She hoped the agreement would be torn up, or at least reviewed, after she had finished all her exams for the year. That was just three weeks away and she was counting down the days to freedom.

Then one Thursday her parents mentioned, just in passing, that they would be out again that Sunday. They had been invited to a meal with old friends. Samantha was worried right away and tried to persuade them to cancel or at least leave later, but she couldn't bring herself to tell them why. Not that it would have made much difference, she thought, and her mother made very clear they had no intention of changing their plans just for her benefit. Sunday came and she could see Anthony looking unusually smug - he was up to something.

Having spent most of the afternoon getting ready, her parents finally left just after five. It was nearly a two hour drive, so they would be back late. The atmosphere in the house was tense as six o'clock approached. The two siblings were studiously avoiding each other, both nervous but for very different reasons. Anthony had a plan and wanted to push his sister further than he had before - much further. Sam didn't know what to expect. She thought there was a good chance Uncle Jack would support her if it came to it, especially as she had done so well following the rules over the last few weeks, but she couldn't be sure.

Using every minute was important, Anthony knew. Last time he had only taken up fifteen minutes, but today he was sure he would need the whole hour, and he couldn't afford to delay. On the dot of six he called out to Samantha, and a couple of minutes later she wandered into the room.

″Take all your clothes off.″ he instructed her. He knew this was a risky strategy - if she simply refused point blank his only option would be to persuade his uncle that ordering Samantha to strip naked on this Sunday evening was a reasonable thing to do, and he really wasn't sure how that conversation would go. But if he went an item at a time much of the hour would be gone and his plan wouldn't work.

″No fucking way.″ Samantha replied. ″No way am I stripping off for you, you little creep.″

Damn. He wasn't going to be able to argue this one. He had to play his joker and pray it worked. As he reached for the phone, they both knew what was going to happen. He dialled Uncle Jack's number, slowly and deliberately, hoping that Samantha would back down before he got to the end. She didn't.

″It's ringing.″ he told her. Still nothing. His heart skipped a beat as the phone clicked and someone answered, A woman's voice - his aunt.

″Hello Aunt Sara, it's Anthony here. Can I speak to Uncle Jack please?″ His heart was racing, but glancing at Sam he could see the colour had drained from her face - she was no more certain than him about the outcome. There was a pause of a few seconds before Jack's familiar voice came onto the line.

″Hey, Anthony, what's up?″

Anthony had decided earlier that if he needed to call Uncle Jack he just had to be up front about it - the truth and the whole truth. He figured that if he didn't, Jack would just get it out of him anyway and he'd lose both time and credibility. The best chance he had was just to go for it.

″Hi Uncle Jack, I need your help. I'm here with Samantha - mum and dad have gone out for the evening. It's the hour when she had to follow orders from anyone in the house, but she's refusing. I know I can't touch her and I can't hurt her. I've told her to take all her clothes off, but she won't.″ He stopped, not knowing what else to say. He had played his hand, all he could do now was wait to see where the cards fell. The phone went silent. Twenty seconds passed. Thirty. Then Jack spoke. ″Can you pass the phone to Sam please Anthony.″

″Sure.″ He said, and handed it over. ″Uncle Jack wants to speak to you.″

″Hello, Uncle Jack.″ Samantha said, as sweetly as she could given the last time they'd meet he'd stripped her naked and left her sore and bruised inside and out for a week or more.

″Hello, Samantha. I won't mess around - Anthony's right. I know you don't want to do what he tells you, but that's the point. It's a punishment to remind you to stick to the rules and this is about rules. Now, I've been told how well you've been doing and that's fantastic - and for that reason and that reason alone I'm going to let this slide. By all rights I should be getting in my van right now to come over their and punish you just like I said I would, but just this once you get a bye. From this minute on you stick to the rules. As long as no-one touches or hurts you, I expect to hear that you've obeyed every command given to you by anyone in the house between six and seven on a Sunday evening. Every command. Do you understand?″