Helping her cousin (F/F story)

There was something about the look on Hannah's face as she stood on her doorstep that told Abby that they were about to have a very important conversation. She looked nervous, glancing around as if she didn't really want to meet Abby's gaze.

"Hey, Hannah. What's up?" Abby said, giving her younger cousin the most comforting smile she could.

"I have something I want to talk to you about," Hannah told her. "May I come in?"

As they went inside, Abby decided to stop in the kitchen and grab a soda for her cousin. It had now been a month since Hannah moved into town to go to college, and Abby had tried to talk to her as often as she could, checking on her and seeing that she was okay. Right now, Abby was the only family that Hannah had within miles.

"So, how's college life treating you?" Abby asked as they sat down in the living room, and she handed her the soda. Hannah took a sip, and shrugged.

"It's okay. A lot to take in of course, and I'm not used to living by myself yet..." She bit her lip, and it was clear that there was something important she wanted to talk about. Abby nodded, letting the girl make up her mind on how to proceed.

"The thing is," Hannah continued after a while. "It's a bit harder to study than I had expected. No one's looking over my shoulder, you know? I don't do it as much as I know I should. And the cleaning is..." she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "If my mother had seen the state of my apartment, I would be bare-bottomed over her knee, wriggling beneath her wicked hairbrush."

Abby stared at her. The fact that her younger cousin was still subject to sore bottoms was a surprise, as was the fact that she was willing to share that fact with someone. If Abby had still been spanked at that age, it would be her most closely guarded secret. "Well, then," Abby said, showing her comforting smile again. "You should count yourself lucky that she's not here to spank you, then."

"I should, shouldn't I?" Hannah said quietly, staring at the carpet. Abby furrowed her brow. Her cousin was acting very strangely. "I keep thinking that I SHOULD be disciplined, you know? That I would do better with a firm hand now and again."

Abby nodded as if she knew what her cousin was talking about, though she really didn't. The day she'd grown too old for her mother's spankings was one of the happiest of her life.

"So, uh..." Hannah licked her lips, taking a large sip from the soda bottle to gather her thoughts. "I was wondering if you'd help me, Abby."

Handling his accounts (F/M story)

"Right," Summer said and held out her hand. "Give them here."

Brian handed his younger sister the papers he had been carrying, and wondered how in the world he had ended up in this situation.

The answer was obvious, of course. Brian had always been bad at handling money. Try as he might, he just wasn't the financially responsible kind. About eight or nine months ago, he had phoned his little sister, who was studying to be an accountant.

"Your problem isn't that you haven't got enough coming in," she told him. "Nor that you have any particular expensive habits or anything like that. No, the problem is that you keep making small, but expensive impulsive purchases. You can't go past something you want without buying it, especially when you've been drinking. You lack discipline. But I can help you with that."

"Oh really? How?" he'd asked her, desperate for a way out of his troubles.

"Spankings."

"Excuse me?" Was this another of her silly jokes?

"Spankings. You come to me every two weeks, and I take a look at your expenses this month. If I find something there I don't like, I take you over my knee and teach you a lesson with my brush."

He had told her as calmly as he could that there was no way in hell he would submit to something like that from his YOUNGER SISTER, and that if she couldn't be serious, he'd hang up.

"Hang up if you want," she had told him. "But that won't fix your financial troubles. You'll be back."

A month later, he showed up at her house. He had thought seriously about her offer, and decided he had to reluctantly accept. The petite redhead gave her the strictest glare she was able to muster, then told him that had wasted a whole month. Since he showed so little regard for both his time and hers, she had decided he would receive a spanking right away. On that first visit, he had been shocked at how quickly his tiny sister had reduced him to a crying mess, but she was a lot scarier with that brush in her hand.

"Well, everything seems to be in order. You're acting a lot more like a responsible adult. And I think you know why," she said, smiling smugly at him. One of his hands reached back to rub his bottom.

"Hang on, what's this?" He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as her brow furrowed. "What's this? ANOTHER trip to the pub. That makes three this month. What did I tell you about that, Brian?"

"You told me that 'Two nights out a month is more than enough, if they're that expensive,'" he said, quoting one of her rules.

"Good. And what did I say I would do if you broke that rule?"

"You'd 'light my butt up like a Christmas tree,'" he said, blushing like mad as he quoted her exact words.

"And I will." She shook her head as she made a mark on the paper with her red pen. "I really had hoped we would make it through a meeting without me having to blister your bottom."

"Then don't!" He pleaded. "Please, it's just one little mark, can't we forget about it, this once?"

For a few seconds, she just sat there, glaring at him. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say we should ignore the rules. You've already got ONE spanking coming your way, but I can easily make it two."

"Sorry," he told her.

"Apology accepted." She picked up the brush from her purse. "Now, hands on your head and get over here."

She pulled down his trousers and boxers, letting him stand there for a few seconds before she patted her lap. He lowered himself as fast as he could; anything to end the humiliation of standing there on display.

He sighed to himself. One mark! One bloody mark! Why couldn't he have stayed home that third night?

Summer had a special system of rules, and one of those rules concerned the length of his punishments. If he earned any marks, any at all, she would start off with a five-minute spanking with the brush. Then, when that was over, she would give him ten hard strokes for every mark he had. On the other hand, if he had no marks at all, he would get off without a spanking. Unfortunately, that hadn't happened yet.

"Are you ready, Brian?" she asked, rubbing his bottom with her brush.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she said with a grin as she lifted the brush.

The strokes weren't very hard, especially compared with the ones at the end of his punishment, but they still stung quite a bit, and they came fast. It wasn't long before the tears appeared.

"Stop struggling, Brian," she said as she circled his waist with her arm. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

"But it hurts!" he cried out.

"That's the point."

His bottom turned pink, then red, as he kicked and cried, pleading for mercy. When his five minutes were up, she stopped.

"Now, one mark, that's ten strokes. Are you going to be a good boy and lie still now?"

"I'll try," he told her.

"That's all anyone asks, Brian, that you try. Problem is, up until now, you haven't."

Ten hard strokes rang out in the silent room, and Brian cried out at every one, but he managed to not move for any of them.


Later, Brian left his sister's apartment, rubbing the sting from his bottom as he made his way home. And just like last time, and the time before that, he promised himself that next time, NEXT TIME, he would earn no marks at all.

Aunt Beatrice (F/F story)

Recently, I got a phone call from my dear old Aunt Beatrice, and what she told me might be the strangest tale I think I will ever hear. Aunt Beatrice has told me lots of interesting things through the years – all of them, to my knowledge, true – but this one has to be by far the strangest.

First, I think a little background is in order. Aunt Beatrice is my mother's sister. She's in her sixties, but still manages to keep in shape, and mentally she's as alert as she ever was. She's never married, and I can't recall her even dating someone, but she's one of those people that can spend a lot of time alone without ever being lonely. She was the kind of friendly, not-too-serious aunt that every kid loves.

She filled me in on what had happened with her and her friends since we had last spoken, and most of it, though interesting, has nothing to do with the tale at hand. Once we had chatted for about ten minutes, she started telling me about something that had happened late at night last Friday.

"I had woken up in the night, and since I was unable to get back to sleep, I decided to go for a small walk. It's so refreshing, walking around in these bright, warm spring evenings.

Anyway, I decided to go through the park, and sat down at one of the benches to enjoy the night. After a short while, a girl of about eighteen, possibly a little older, walked over. She was wearing a short black skirt and a leather jacket, and her hair was bright purple. Rather odd-looking, but I've seen stranger. I've LOOKED stranger, come to think of it." I thought back at various outfits I had seen her in over the years, and had to admit, she was right.

"Anyway, this girl walked over to me, and would you believe it, she pulled a knife on me! She told me to hand over my purse! Now, I am not normally a violent woman, but I was not about to let some thug get her hands on my money. So I stood up, grabbed her arm, and disarmed her." She described this as if it was the easiest and most natural thing in the world. I knew she was a lot quicker and stronger than she looks, but disarming robbers was not something I expected to find among her many skills.

"I thought about dragging her to a police station, but I felt that what this girl needed, wasn't jail. I sat back down on the bench and dragged her over my knee. I flipped her short skirt up and pulled down her panties. If you can call that bit of string ‘panties’, which I shouldn't."

At this point, I wondered whether I was hallucinating, or if I was actually having this conversation. I asked her to repeat the last few sentences, and she did so. Then, she continued.

"I started smacking her bottom, but she kicked fiercely and tried to fight her way off my lap. I grabbed her wrists with my left hand and locked her legs in mine, meaning that she was trapped until I decided otherwise. I kept on spanking her, hard and fast smacks against those pale cheeks.

At first, she started threatening me, telling me how she was going to hurt me when she got loose. Not too bright, I must say. I mean, that's not much of an incentive for me to let her go, is it? And she had quite the dirty mouth on her. If only there was a bar of soap available, I would have corrected that."

I had a mental image of my dear old aunt Beatrice putting a mugger in the corner, bar of soap in her mouth and hands on her head, displaying a red, well-spanked bottom.

"Anyway, I kept on smacking her, alternating cheeks, and pretty soon, those white cheeks turned pink and those threats turned to pleas. She started telling me how she had learned her lesson, and would I please let her go? I didn't, of course. This girl needed a good lesson, and I was just the woman to teach it to her.

To make a long story short, her bottom turned red and her pleas turned to crying, then loud sobbing, and my hand was stinging. I looked in my purse to see if I had remembered to bring my hairbrush, but I seemed to have left it at home. A pity, really. I think it would have done her a world of good."

Naturally, I thought to myself. It's always a good idea to bring a hairbrush in case you run into muggers. Everyone knows that.

"I asked her if she had learned her lesson, and she assured me she had. She was quite insistent on that, in fact. I helped her to her feet, and she ran away, both hands rubbing her sore bottom furiously.

Once she had left, I discovered that she had left her knife behind. Since it would be difficult to track her down, I decided to take it home, though I'm not sure what I should do with it."

I smiled. Not many old ladies can walk away from a mugging with more property than they had previously.

"Aunt Beatrice, listen to me," I told her. "Take that knife and hang it on your wall. You hear me?"

"I hear you, dear."

"And if anyone asks you why you have that thing, you tell them what you told me, OK?"

I went over to visit her again a few days later, and the knife was up on the wall. We amused ourselves for quite some time wondering if the girl told anyone about the crazy old lady who disarmed her, spanked her and sent her running.

Probably not.

Punishing their brothers (F/m story)

Sarah sighed as she put the phone down. Her idiot brother had decided to shoplift again, earning himself a quick trip to the police station. Luckily, it didn't look like it would go to court – Robert might be a teenager, but had a way of doing puppy eyes reminiscent of a far younger child, that made people instantly want to forgive him. She'd seen it work on their parents far too often.

Still, shoplifting? AGAIN? She shook her head, wishing yet again that someone had taught that kid to behave when he was younger.

The phone rang again, and Sarah picked it up, fearing that she'd hear about yet another of her brother's silly stunts. It was something of a pleasant surprise to hear the voice of Kelly on the other end.

Kelly was a few years younger than Sarah, but far taller, and she had this air of authority that caused people to think she was older. They'd met because Kelly's brother Jake was in the same class as Robert, and a friendship had blossomed.

"I heard Robert got himself arrested again," Kelly said.

Sarah groaned. "How did you know?" She paused. "Wait... Jake was there too, huh?"

"He's still at the police station," Kelly replied. "I know the officer that phoned me, and got a few details out of her – which is how I know Robert was there." Sarah heard a sigh on the other end, knowing that Kelly was as fed up as she was. "I've decided to go through with it. I've warned him many times, and he's never believed me, but this time, he's gone too far. I'm going to do it, and it's about time too."

"Do what?" Sarah said, puzzled. "You're talking in riddles, Kelly."

Sarah giggled as Kelly explained her puzzling words, but the more she heard, the better she liked the idea. She loved it, in fact.

Jake and Robert slammed the door as they entered Robert's house. The officer had driven them here, stating that their sisters had requested it, since Kelly was too busy right now. Caught! They were actually CAUGHT. They looked at each other, agreeing to get a better lookout next time.

"Ah, you're here," Sarah said, giving them a glance as if it pained her to look at them. "Follow me so we can get this started."

"Get what started?" Robert asked, suspicious.

"Don't ask questions, just follow me," Sarah said, heading up the stairs. Robert considered telling her to go to hell, but decided to follow; he was curious to see what was going on.

Sarah led them into her room. She sat down in the only chair in the room, and she'd stacked some boxes on the bed, so the boys were forced to stand.

"Now, I've had a little chat with Kelly, and we're sick of the way the two of you have been acting. Skipping school? Shoplifting?" She shook her head. "You're acting like children, not the teenagers you're supposed to be." She folded her hands in front of her chest, glaring at them. "We've decided to deal with you, and we agreed that I would start."

"Deal with us?" Robert asked, getting more and more suspicious. The back of his neck was tingling, telling him to get out of there, but he saw no reason to be scared of his sister.

"Yes," Sarah said, reaching forward and grabbing his hand, "Deal with you." And with a jerk, she dragged him forward, pulling him over her knee. Quick hands had his trousers and underpants down to his knees before he could react.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Robert asked, blushing from the realization that she could see his bare bottom. He tried to get up, but she held him down.

"I thought that was obvious," Sarah said as she started slapping his bottom.

"Ow!" he yelled. "You can't spank me!"

"It sure looks like I can," she answered drily, slapping him harder.

"You're just my sister! You can't do this!" He kicked his legs; his butt was starting to hurt!

"Our parents left me in charge, little boy," she said. Strictly speaking, that was true, but since they'd given her no way of actually making him mind her, it had been purely theoretical. Until that moment.

"And you," she said as she glared at Jake, who was standing there in open-mouthed shock. "You're next, so don't go too far."

He shivered, not at all wanting to experience what Robert was currently going through.

By the time Robert was allowed off his sister's lap, his bottom was bright pink, and he was crying hard.

"Nose in the corner," she commanded. "If you speak, try to rub your bottom, or turn away from the corner, you'll get another spanking." She turned towards Jake. "Now, get your trousers and underpants down and get over my lap." She patted her knee, as if to show him where to go.

Jake's fingers trembled as he unbuttoned his jeans, scared of what was going to happen, but far more scared of what Sarah – and his sister – would do if he disobeyed. He looked over at Sarah, who was sitting in a short skirt and thighs, stroking the lap he would soon find himself over. He looked at her long legs, how soft they looked, and how he'd love to be close to them under any circumstances other than this.

"If you stare at my legs again, Jake, you'll get extra," she warned.

He blushed as she pulled him over his knee, patting his bottom. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt, Jake," she said. She didn't sound very sorry about it.

He cried out as her palm landed on his bottom, a hard smack that caused him to kick his legs. He had never expected her soft palm to cause the pain it did.

"I hope you're learning your lesson, Jake," she said. "I don't want to do this again." A very transparent lie: she was having the time of her life.

When his spanking was over, Jake was allowed to get up and shuffle into the corner, and Sarah sat down, enjoying the sight of the two pink bottoms on display in her bedroom. When Kelly gets here, she thought to herself, things are REALLY going to get good.

A few minutes later, she heard the footsteps on the stairs.

"Ah," Kelly said as she entered the bedroom. "You've been doing quite well so far, I see." She grinned as she saw her brother and his brat of a friend, bare-bottomed in the corner. "You can turn around now, boys."

They did as she asked, eyes widening as they spotted the large hairbrush she held in her hand.

"What is that for?" Robert asked as if he dreaded the answer.

"It's for your naughty little bottoms," she explained. "You've had the first part of your spanking, and now, it's time for round two."

"You don't need to do that," Jake said, crying. "We've learned our lesson, honest!"

"Hm..." Kelly looked up as if she was pondering what to do, as if she hadn't already decided. "I guess I COULD let you off with a warning, and put this brush back in the drawer..."

"You could?" Sarah said, her surprise apparent on her face.

"Sure," Kelly replied. "I'm just not going to." She patted her palm with the brush as Sarah rose to her feet, giving Kelly the chair. "Now, which of you want to feel my brush first?"

None of the boys stepped forward, so Sarah grabbed Jake, pushing him towards his sister. "You're up, sport," she said.

There was a loud crack as the hard wood of the brush landed on Jake's unprotected flesh, followed by a loud scream.


Sarah watched the two red bottoms in the corner, and grinned to herself. "Do you think our brothers will behave from now on?"

"If they won't, I'll still have this," Kelly replied, holding up the brush. "And I'm willing to use it again."

"I'm sure you are," Sarah said with a smile.

Brother's disappointment (m/f)

I know that a lot of siblings don’t like each other very much when they’re growing up. I know that many argue and fight and generally enjoy getting each other into trouble. But my brother Jack and I were different. We were, in spite of being siblings, very good friends.

One of the reasons for this was we had similar interests. We played the same videogames, we read the same books, we enjoyed the same movies, and we both had a firmly held belief that you were never too old for a decent treehouse.

Another reason was that we lived far from our nearest neighbours, so there weren’t many other children around. When your brother is the only playmate you have, you tend to be nice to him. A third reason was that, as twins, we were naturally close to each other.

One of the greatest differences between us was that, while I tended to be caught up in the moment and do what sounded like the most fun at the time, regardless of what consequences this might bring, my brother always wanted to do what was right. This meant that, whenever the two of us got into trouble (which, I must admit, wasn’t as often as we deserved), I was usually to blame. But he would often join me in mischief; he was the kind of guy that would always be at your side.

This is the story of my strangest punishment. Strange because I asked for it. And strange because I was punished by my brother.

Shortly after our fifteenth birthday, I ignored my teacher’s orders to be quiet in class one time too many, and was rewarded with detention. This meant that, in addition to staying after school for two hours, I had to get my parents to sign a slip so that they were told what had happened. The slip didn’t worry me; I had been able to sign my parents' signatures for as long as I can remember. The trouble was trying to explain why my brother and I had been late home from school (whenever I got detention, Jack would wait for me in the library). As we were heading home, I bounced ideas off him; he would spot the faults of my plans long before I could. I suggested many ideas, but he shot them down immediately. In the end, I suggested that I could say that we both stayed at the library to work.

"Wouldn’t work, Jill," my brother replied. Yes, we are named Jack and Jill; our parents have a strange sense of humour. "Staying at school to work is not your style. They wouldn’t believe you."

"Of course not," I said. "But they would believe YOU."

He slowly turned to look at me. I knew why; Jack had always had a strong dislike for lying. "Pleeeease?" I said in my most pathetic voice. "C’mon, Jack. You don’t want me to get punished, do you? When I’m grounded, you have no one to play with."

"I still don’t like it."

"C’mon Jack, they can see right through me. You’re the better liar. I NEED your help!"

Most people seem to think that Jack never lies. I understand why they believe that, since he expresses such dislike of it. The truth is, he lies very rarely. But when he does, he is the most convincing liar I have ever met. Mainly because people expect him to tell the truth, but also because he has an unmatched control over his facial expressions.

"Okay," he said. That was all he said, but it was clear that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I followed his wishes, and we walked in silence.

The talk around the dinner table went as I expected. Our mother wondered why we were late, and wanted to know if we had gotten into trouble. I told her that we had stayed to work on a project in the library. She asked my brother if that was true. He looked her in the eye and lied. "Actually, I was working in the library. She waited for me. She was giggling with some of her friends."

I suddenly realized how much more likely that sounded, and tried to pretend that was what happened. Our mother accepted the story. But my eyes met Jack’s, and he looked at me with more disappointment than I have ever seen in his eyes.

The rest of the day, he acted more coolly towards me than usual. No one else would be able to see it, but I was close enough to my brother to know what he felt, and there was still an invisible wall between us. I knew why; he didn’t care about me potentially getting us into trouble. But I had made him lie for me, and that disappointed him. Lying was his pet peeve, and he hated it. I knew that, and I still made him lie for me.

At bedtime, the wall between us was still there, and I had enough. On the rare occasions that Jack was disappointed in me, I always felt guilty, and I felt isolated. When other people were upset with me, I had my brother’s unflinching support, but when he was disappointed in me, I was alone.

I couldn’t sleep. The feeling in my stomach was still there, and it had gotten worse. I needed to make him forgive me, so I got up and went into his room. Jack was reading in his bed, and looked at me with a coolness I had never seen in his eyes. He then focused on the book again.

"Please forgive me," I said in a pathetic voice. "I know I disappointed you, but I need you to forgive me."

He didn't even look up from the book.

"You know we’re home free, right? They’ll never catch us. They trust your word."

"And do you know why? I’m honest, and they know it. You should try it."

"Why won’t you forgive me?"

"You got into trouble, and you made me lie to avoid punishment. That’s why."

"Why don’t you punish me?"

He looked at me, clearly unsure if he had heard what he thought he had heard.

"You’re the offended party, right? You’re the one that needs to forgive me. Why shouldn’t you punish me?"

He put his book away. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well…" I said and thought about it. "What about a spanking?" He didn’t reply, just looked at me with an expressionless face. "It’s quick, then it’s over. You put me over your knee, spank me, and I’m forgiven, right?"

He considered it. "If I agree to this mad proposal, it’s going to be a real spanking. A long spanking, a hard spanking, until you cry, and on your bare bottom."

"Yes," I replied. "But it will be worth it if you forgive me."

He sat on the edge of the bed and patted his lap. "Come here."

I looked at him in fear. "What – here? Now?"

"Why not?"

"What if our parents hear?" I asked.

"They’re in the basement. We’re on the second floor. There is no way they can hear us. Now come here."

I moved to his right side, and leaned over his lap. He pushed me forward until my bottom was raised over his lap. He then raised my nightdress, lowered my panties, and started the spanking.

Neither of us were very strong, but we were fast, and Jack used his speed to his advantage. He covered my bottom in fast, light smacks, and I could quickly feel heat building up. He gave about four spanks a second, going from the bottom of my left cheek to the top, then from the bottom of the right cheek to the top, before starting over from the bottom of the left cheek. I buried my face in his pillow, wanting to minimize the already small chance of our parents hearing.

The heat in my bottom started to build up, and tears started to form in my eyes. He smacked quickly, not wasting time on any lecturing; we both knew very well what I had done.

Five minutes into the spanking, I had managed to kick my panties to the other side of the room, and Jack held his arm around my waist to keep me from kicking off his lap. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, and my bottom really hurt.

Ten minutes later, my bottom felt like it was on fire, and I was crying freely. It felt like I had been over his lap forever by the time he stopped. He kept me over his lap while I cried for a few minutes, then he picked me up and carried me to my bed. He tucked me in, and kissed me on the forehead before he went back to his book. The pain in my stomach was gone, replaced with a pain in my rear, and I fell asleep almost immediately, even though I’m not used to sleeping on my stomach.

That wasn’t the last time Jack spanked me, but it was the first, and in many ways, it was the strangest punishment I have ever had.

Brief hiatus

 For those who may be wondering why updates have been rare for the last month, I have been dealing with some personal issues. I will be back as soon as I can.

So far, I've been uploading stories I've been writing over the last decade. I've almost run out of those, so I will soon switch to recently written stories. I will try to upload one per week, but can make no promises.