Exactly one week earlier, I had arrived at my sister's home, expecting to gather her up and hit the malls and outlet stores. As usual, I was dressed up for the outing, in mini-skirt, tight top, and light make-up. I always figure: if you want to be treated as high class, you've got to look high class.

However, my sister was anything but ready to go. I found her in her housecoat, crying her eyes out.

"Sandy, what's the matter?"

"It's Danny."

"What, did that bastard hit you or something?"

"No, nothing like that. He just took off last night, went drinking with his friend Bob. He was mad at me. I knew I should have gone with him. I just had to have it my way!"

"What are you talking about? Has something happened to Danny?"

"What? Oh ... no, he just never came home last night. He probably hooked up with some slut and stayed at her place!"

I wouldn't put it past him, that's for sure. Although Sandy, at twenty-five, was my older sister, I usually felt that I was the more mature one. Sandy never went to college, but instead ended up marrying a macho asshole who worked off-and-on at the local tire plant.

Naturally, I was destined for better things. Perhaps it was my college sophistication, but, at twenty-two, I already knew that losers weren't for me. I had just graduated, and as soon as my boyfriend, Stewart, finished graduate school, we were going to marry. Stewart would never pull anything like this. He was kind, sweet, and willing to let me make most of the decisions. In fact, he was working towards a PhD in "Gender and Minority Studies." I just couldn't understand women who, like Sandy, settled for less.

"Well, have you called this Bob guy? Maybe he stayed over at his buddy's house."

"Oh, that's a good idea. I think I have the number around here somewhere..."

Sandy called the number, and I saw her face light up after she asked if Danny was there — apparently he was. It darkened quickly, though, once the jerk got on the line. Within a minute, he had hung up on her, and she was crying once more.

"He says if I'm gonna nag him and check up on him, he'll stay out the whole weekend. He even ... he even threatened to 'go get some strange pussy'!"

Well, that did it. It was time I gave the son of a bitch a piece of my mind. "Sandy, give me this Bob's address. And hand me the phone. Since you're in no shape to go shopping with me, I guess Stewart will have to.

She scribbled out directions to the house as I dialed Stewart at the University.

'Stewart dear ... I need you to be ready to go shopping with me this afternoon ... Well, my plans have changed ... I don't care about your deadline; you love me, don't you? ... Okay, see you then ... bye-bye."

I turned with a smirk to my sister. "See that? Now give me those directions. I know how to handle men!"

It turns out the address was easy to find. I saw Danny's pickup truck parked outside. The other car in the driveway was a Corvette, presumably Bob's. "Figures," I mused. "Jerks of a feather..."

I knocked on the door impatiently. I didn't have all morning — just a few minutes to tell Danny off, in the fashion Sandy should have years ago, and then on to the college to pick up Stewart for an afternoon of trying on outfits I didn't plan to buy.

The man who answered the door was a big blond brute, handsome I suppose in a rugged sort of way. Not my type, though. I prefer a clean-cut guy who looks like he might own a tie or ten. "I'm here to talk to Danny. Is he here or not?"

The big guy, who I presumed to be Bob, actually adjusted himself right in front of me before grunting, jerking his head back towards the house's interior, and stepping out of my way. I could feel his eyes on me as I brushed past, probably checking out my ass. Animal!

I strode into the living room to find Danny lounging on a couch, watching cartoons in his boxers and T-shirt, unshowered, unshaven, and drinking a beer at ten in the morning. I put my hands on my hips in my best "attitude" pose and let it fly.

"You son of a bitch! Just who do you think you are, treating my sister that way?"

He didn't answer; he just looked at me with an amused expression. This made me even angrier.

"You're married to her, which means you don't do things like stay out all night. It means you do what it takes to make her happy."

"So, you think you know what it takes to make a woman happy, huh?"

"What? Of course I do! Take Stewart, for example — you know him — he makes me happy. He always asks me what I want to do, instead of insisting on his own way. And he'd never pull a trick like disappearing overnight."

"Nope. Listening to you right now, I can tell your 'Steew-Ahrt' doesn't know what he's doing, that's for sure. Anyway, get the hell out of here before you regret it."

"Are you threatening me? That might work with Sandy, but it won't work with me. I'll leave when you tell me you're going to apologize to my sister."

"I'm not threatening you, I'm telling you. You get out of here, or I'll give your ass a spanking you won't forget. Now go."

This was just the kind of macho bullshit I expected from a jerk like Danny, and frankly, it pissed me off. I felt my face flush in anger, and the next thing I knew, I'd pulled off one of my shoes and flung it at the bastard. He caught it with a laugh.

"Well, I guess you've made your choice. Bring her over here, Bob."

I spun around to storm out, even without my shoe, but instead I ran right into the arms of Bob, who had been watching this whole exchange. He grabbed each of my upper arms in a meaty paw, pinned them against my body, and lifted me easily off my feet, carrying me to the couch and Danny. Too late I tried to kick him, but before I could land anything effectual, I was draped across Danny's lap, face down. Danny held my midriff firmly, and Bob, who still hadn't said a word, casually held both my wrists in one hand and pulled them out over the armrest.

"You asked for this," my brother-in-law gloated, as he pulled my miniskirt up over my hips to expose my panty-covered ass. The two of them were just too strong - all my squirming and kicking only made them chuckle.

And then, without warning, Danny struck me across the butt with a resounding open-handed blow. It surprised me more than it hurt, but I yelped, which caused them both to guffaw. The second blow was not nearly as loud, but it hurt a little more. I screamed at them to cut it out.

"I'll stop when you've learned your lesson. Obviously, you haven't learned it yet."

Thwaak!. "Owwww!" Schwaap! "Unghh!" No particular swat was in itself that severe, but as they built up, my stinging ass cheeks really started to smart. Tears came to my eyes, out of either pain or frustration, and I lost count after the first ten spanks. After maybe twenty he suddenly stopped, and I found myself gasping for breath. Bob released his grip on my wrists, so I attempted to struggle off my tormentor's lap.

"Whoa, there!" he smugly chuckled, pushing me down with a hand at the small of my back. "I'm not sure I'm done with your cute little ass yet."

My face, already hot from the exertion and my frustration, must have burned brighter as I realized my skirt was still bunched up around my waist, my ass laying out for Danny's viewing pleasure with only my silk panties to conceal it. Since my hands at least were now free, I reached down and pulled my skirt over my rump. The men laughed.

"Now ... are you ready to apologize to me? Are you ready to admit that a man has his prerogatives, and a woman should just put up and shut up?"

"Let me go you bastards!" I shouted, regaining my dignity. "You're already in big trouble. I'm telling my sister, and maybe the cops, now LET ME GO!"

"Tsk, tsk. And I thought we were coming to an understanding." He began pulling my skirt back up, and when I tried to fight him over the scant fabric, Bob easily pulled my hands away and securely held them over the armrest again. This time, however, Danny didn't start right in with the spanking. Instead, he caressed my buns, I'd say almost tenderly — for someone like Danny.

"It's almost a shame to hit this beautiful ass, Bob. I can think of so many better things to do with it. Oh well, she keeps insisting." I am ashamed to admit that the gentle stroking of his powerful hands across my sore derriere didn't feel that bad. In fact, I sort of enjoyed it. When this thought hit me I suddenly noticed for the first time the lump in Danny's lap, pressing into my lower belly. His cock.

Thwaaak! "Owww!" Suddenly my attention was focused more directly on my bottom, as Danny knocked out at least a dozen moderately hard strokes. By the time he was done with this salvo, I was feeling it somewhere other than on the surface of my ass. Deep in my pelvis I began to ache, and it wasn't an ache of pain — it was a throbbing need. Bob once again released my wrists, and I just lay there, panting for a few moments, contemplating the sense of emptiness in my loins before remembering myself and pushing my skirt back down. I didn't even bother attempting to escape.

I couldn't believe what I was feeling. I was being practically molested, and sure, I was angry, but my crotch was reacting in some pathetic parody of pleasure!

"Are you ready to apologize?"