Emily looked at her watch again, as if expecting time to have passed backward since the last time she looked at it. To her complete lack of amazement, it hadn't. One thirty. She picked up the brush laying in her lap, patting it against her palm as she looked forward to using it. If her sister was okay, she was going to pay for making her worry like this.
Cheryl was almost ten years younger than her, and had been living with her for some time. When she had moved in, Emily had made the choice to never use the old methods of discipline, as she didn't want to turn into their mother. Unfortunately, Cheryl was harder to control than Emily had anticipated.
The sound of someone approaching the house woke Emily from her half-sleep. Silently, as if trying to avoid waking anyone up, the mystery figure opened the kitchen door, and entered on tiptoes, smiling confidently.
"Your curfew is at midnight. You're almost -" she checked her watch again, "over two hours late."
"Yeah, and I'm really tired, so I'll..." Cheryl replied, yawning and walking towards the stairs.
"You're not going anywhere but over my knee, so I suggest you quit wasting my time and come over here."
"But I'm an adult! I don't need a curfew," Cheryl said, pouting.
"Move out, then. But as long as you live here, I'm in charge."
Cheryl's shoulders fell. She realized that there was nothing she could do to talk her way out of this, so she could just as well get it over with.
As Emily pulled her over her lap, patting the brush against the seat of her dress, Cheryl considered the situation. Less than an hour ago, she'd been sitting in a pub with her friends, an adult flirting and laughing amidst adults. Now, she was a little girl going over her sister's knee for a spanking. It was all very confusing to her alcohol-addled brain, and she didn't like it one bit.
A sharp smack on her rear end, followed by many more, brought her back to reality. Emily wanted to get the whole thing over with quickly; she also wanted to go to bed soon.
The sting was beginning to get to her, and Cheryl had started to kick her legs. She always forgot how much a spanking could hurt, and the rude awakening she got when it started was not pleasant.
Emily watched as Cheryl cried out in pain, and she hated herself for it. She had known quite a bit of pain in her time, and the thought of intentionally causing it in her sister – her own, dear sister – still made her stomach hurt. She'd have preferred a peaceful solution, but Cheryl wasn't meeting her half-way.
Cheryl's hopes were crushed as Emily flipped up her dress, revealing a small black thong that didn't offer much protection against the brush. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and goosebumps were forming in anticipation as Emily rubbed the hard wood of the brush against her unprotected posterior.
She cried out as Emily continued the spanking. Why had she decided to be out this late? She would never break curfew again!
Finally, Emily was satisfied that Cheryl had learned her lesson. She helped the girl to her feet, lowered the hem of her dress to protect her shattered modesty, and gave her a long hug. Cheryl nestled her head against Cheryl's shoulders, crying into her shirt.
Cheryl walked off to go to bed, rubbing her sore rear end as she did, and Emily walked into the living room, stopping by the mirror on the wall. She hated causing Cheryl pain, bringing her to tears. She sometimes wondered if that was what their mother had felt, all those years ago, when she had been the one to use physical discipline on her oldest daughter. Was Emily turning into her mother?
She touched her neck, running her finger down the scar that she still felt the need to cover up every time she left the house. Perhaps not. Perhaps it was a good thing Cheryl couldn't remember their mother.
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