EMMA AT SCHOOL 16
Home At Last
Emma has just arrived at
home for the half-term break to find her sister in big trouble....
"Why, what has she
done?" Mr Denning enquired.
"I was going through her school bag, throwing away all the rubbish
she collects in it, when I came across this - stuffed in the bottom."
Kaitlin's father looked threateningly over at his younger daughter as he
took the proffered scrap of crumpled paper from his wife and read it aloud:
"Dear Mr & Mrs
Denning. I am writing to you to ask
once more for your help in tracing Kaitlin's maths homework book.
I understand that you are busy, and assume that's why you have been
unable to respond to my previous notes..."
At that point, Mr Denning
stopped reading and barked at his weeping daughter:
"Do stop those
snivelling crocodile tears. You can
be sure of something to make you cry in a minute!"
Then, returning to the
letter:
"This book is of the
utmost importance as it represents a whole half term of home study.
I do hope that, between you, you will manage to locate it.
Yours, Mr Rimmon."
"I've been through
it all already, Justin. You don't
need to repeat it all," Mrs Denning spat.
"Naturally, the book is not lost, but is in Kaitlin's room.
There is not a single piece of homework in it, let alone seven weeks'
worth. I have to say that I'm
furious with the school for allowing this to go on for so long, but..."
Her husband cut her off.
"Yes, yes - we'll deal with the school later," he said
impatiently before turning to Kaitlin. "You,
young lady I shall deal with now!" Then,
to his wife, "Darling, do we have bridge tonight?" "Yes, Justin.
Not until seven though."
"Good, I don't want
to be late again. Kaitlin, you had
better prepare yourself please."
"No, daddy, please.
Not with Emma here...."
Mr Denning looked at her
with displeasure. "I thought
we'd talked about this kind of answering back," he said.
"And yes, 'with Emma here'," and here he cast a more relaxed
glance towards his older child. "After
all, she will need to know what to expect if she misbehaves at home, won't
she?" he asked rhetorically. After
a short pause he concluded, "I am doubling your punishment for your
cheekiness. I suggest you get a
move on." Pushing her sister's comforting arm aside, Kaitlin jumped up from
her chair purple faced and slammed out of the room.
Mr Denning watched her go with a frown.
"There is no doubt
that her behavior in general has got better, but she always seems to aggravate
her misbehaviour with that kind of idiocy," he muttered.
"Emma, try to talk some sense into her, will you?" "I'll
try, daddy," Emma replied.
It was almost half an
hour before the door opened once more, Emma's head turning instinctively and her
mouth unintentionally hanging open. Kaitlin
was standing naked in the doorway carrying her father's razor strop and her
mother's hairbrush and looking extremely contrite.
"Daddy, I'm really sorry for being rude before.
I know I deserved to be punished for not bringing the letters home and I
don't have an excuse. I..."
And her voice, excuseless, trailed off.
Emma hardly heard her
words, she was too busy just looking. She
and her sister had gone through the usual obsession with privacy as they went
through puberty and had never really shared the changes in their bodies.
Emma had, of course, noticed her sister's bosom swelling, but now that
she saw her naked her image of her 'baby sister' evaporated.
Her breasts, almost as fully developed as Emma's, were beautifully
rounded and hung as perfectly without support as they would inside a bra. Her nipples peaked from large, deep brown circles and seemed
to signal the accomplishment of womanhood.
Emma allowed her gaze to
fall, her eyes running over Kaitlin's perfectly flat tummy and then down (and
she knew that the redness in her sister's face was due to her unashamed staring)
to her exquisite triangle of fair, loose curled hair.
Emma's examination was cut short by her father's voice.
"Kaitlin," he said slowly.
"I am pleased to hear you apologise and, on this occasion, I shan't
increase your beating for your uncalled-for slamming the door.
However, I am going to give you five strokes with the razor strop,
doubled to ten. Please get
ready." Slowly, but with no apparent remaining anger, the youngest member
of the household placed the strop and hairbrush on top of the piano and then
pulled the stool away into the centre of the room.
Emma watched with her breathing coming increasingly heavily as Kaitlin
then knelt on the floor before the stool with her back to her parents and
sister. Emma knew that Kaitlin had
done this many times before, but guessed too that her presence would increase
her sister's embarrassment as she parted her legs and lifted her bottom
sluggishly into the air to reveal the delectable pink secrets that nestled
between the inverted V of her trembling thighs.
She continued to reveal herself more and more explicitly until her hands
lay flat upon the carpet and her fresh buttocks (which, Emma couldn't help but
notice, still carried the faint remembrance of previous discipline) were
presented in utter surrender to her father's will.
Mr Denning looked for a
moment at his elder daughter's face, knowing that she must be imagining herself
in the same vulnerable position, before walking to the piano and picking up the
broad leather strop. He
swished it through the air once or twice and then took it over to where
Kaitlin lay over the piano stool, quietly awaiting the just consequence of her
failure to fully correct her attitude towards her schoolwork.
"You won't be skipping homework after a few weeks at your new
school," Emma thought to herself as she watched her father take up a sturdy
position beside Kaitlin's naked, prostrate form and lay the cold leather flat
upon her cheeks. She found, as he
raised his arm, that she didn't feel remotely sorry for her sister, and that the
first heavy crack as Mr Denning flashed the strop through the air and began her
spanking didn't change her attitude. Rather,
Emma found herself in complete concord with her father and nodded to herself
when he raised his hand again and drew a scream of pain from Kaitlin as her
bottom took a second blow. Kaitlin
had misbehaved and needed to be punished, Emma told herself simply as her
sister's bottom danced under the demanding instruction of the strop, and if the
punishment were not sufficiently severe what would be the deterrent effect?
Kaitlin was screeching loudly now and Emma wondered how well her father
managed to blank out his daughter's cries: he didn't seem to be going any more
gently about his task, she concluded, as wide, red, interconnected stripes rose
under the seventh, eighth and ninth strokes.
Emma wished she could move closer and inspect her sister's pussy to find
out whether she was dampening in the way that Emma had guessed (from the
crossings out in her letter) Kaitlin habitually did when her father punished
her. And then it struck her that
her father was probably the only person who had spanked Kaitlin so far (apart
from the teacher with the strap - Ms Blanchard, was it?) and she reflected on
how strange that seemed to her - and how strange it would seem to others that
she herself had bared her bottom (or, as in the case of the Bottom's Up club,
agreed to bare her bottom) to such a large group of people of different ages and
sex. Emma's father lifted his right arm slowly for the final
stroke and she watched the muscles in his arm tensing as he prepared to complete
her sister's thrashing. Kaitlin's
wailing had fallen to a whimper now and the dancing of her bottom had stilled.
She waited, motionless, for the leather to strike its final blow.
That tenth cracking swat was the heaviest of the ten and it wrenched a
full scream of agony from the fourteen year old's lips as her bared cheeks
endured the fiery counsel of the strop, her bottom now as red as any
well-strapped bum Emma had seen following a session with Amanda's tawse.
"Now, Kaitlin, off
to bed without another word. We'll
all see you at breakfast, and I hope I don't need to repeat this evening's
unpleasantness again during half-term."
Kaitlin struggled to
raise herself from the piano stool and Emma observed for the first time the
sweat which had appeared between her shoulder blades and in the gully that
divided her tender breasts. Her
sister's eyes were bloodshot and her mascara had run in tiny streams down to her
cheeks in the current of her tears. Silently,
and with an expression, to her credit, more of remorse than of self-pity, she
left the room and headed upstairs.
...
With her sister in bed
and her parents out at bridge, the sound of a creaking door made Emma jump as
she curled up in front of the telly. She
looked at her watch. Ten fifteen -
her parents never returned that early. Carefully
she got to her feet and crept silently from the room and towards the back of the
house from where the sound appeared to have come.
Now it was her turn to feel the perspiration gather damply in the cotton
of her bra as she approached the back door; it was standing ajar and outside, on
the concrete patio, was a dark figure pulling indulgently on a cigarette.
It was several seconds before Emma realised who she was looking at.
"Kaitlin?"
The dark figure turned
towards her, Kaitlin's face severely lit by the red glow of the fag between her
lips.
"Hi, sis!"
She said, her voice cool and unhurried.
"Want one?" "No, I don't want one," Emma retorted
angrily. "Does daddy let you
smoke now then?"
"Don't be
ridiculous, what do..."
"And anyway, you're
supposed to be in bed!"
"Yeah, alright.
I won't be a minute!"
"Dead fucking
right!" Emma asserted, closing the gap between them in a few purposeful
strides and pulling the cigarette from her sister's lips.
"And I hope you'll realise how stupid you've been when dad takes the
strap to your bare backside again."
"You're not
seriously suggesting that you'll tell him, are you?" Kaitlin asked, incredulity about equally balanced by a new
nervousness in her voice. "You
used to smoke at home all the time." "Maybe.
I used to do a lot of things and they nearly fucked my life right up.
I thought you'd begun to understand."
She looked steadily at the slightly shorter girl for a long time and then
sighed, "But I guess when you've had your hide tanned often enough, you'll
begin to learn." Kaitlin's poise was beginning to crumble now and there was
a pleading note in her next request:
"Emma, please don't
tell him. Please!"
Emma looked at her sister
and then frowned. "Alright,
then," she said briskly, "come inside and I'll spank you myself."
"Fuck off, you..." was all Kaitlin managed to say because, to her
horror, as soon as she started to speak her sister simply turned round and
walked calmly back into the house. She
was already slumped back in front of the TV when Kaitlin appeared at the sitting
room doorway. "What... what do
you mean..." she asked in a near whisper.
Emma allowed herself a hidden smile and then hit the off button on the
remote. The room was eerily quiet
and Emma's words filled the silence. "Exactly
what I said," she explained. "No
straps or hairbrushes, just a good, old-fashioned hand-spanking.
And no discussions - just yes or no." "And then you won't tell
daddy?"
"Not if you've
already taken your punishment like a big girl.
Now, come here!"
Back in the light now,
Emma saw that her sister was still dressed in her pyjamas and had simply thrown
a jacket around her shoulders. Beneath
the harsh, grey wool, the girl's blooming figure was sweetly hinted at and,
as Kaitlin walked towards her, Emma tried to work out where Kaitlin's
lines might be drawn.
"Take off the jacket
and your top!" she ordered straight away, forcing her sister into an early
decision. If she went for this,
what was to come would be easier. Emma's
judgement was accurate; Kaitlin hesitated for a moment, but then shed the
required items to stand bare-breasted in front of her new mistress.
"I noticed your
rudeness to daddy when he quite rightly decided to beat you this
afternoon," Emma said sternly. "If
you attempt any such nonsense with me I will simply tell you to go to bed and
let daddy deal with you. Is that
clear?"
"Yes, Emma."
"Good.
Now..." Emma licked her lips in delighted anticipation of what lay in
store. Slowly, she reached out her
hands to take hold of her sister's pyjama bottoms and, noticing but studiously
ignoring Kaitlin's horrified expression, she pulled them, ever so slowly, down.
That charming bundle of curls she had been forced to observe from a
distance earlier now sprung to life before her very eyes and, as Emma dropped
the now-useless cotton to the floor, she allowed her gaze to wander freely over
the whole tempting region.
Taking her sister by the
hand, Emma then pulled the girl towards her, guiding her knees to either side of
her own until Kaitlin stood awkwardly astride her sister, her pussy (as Emma had
planned it) pouting enticingly.
"I want you to
answer my question, yes or no," Emma said.
"Do you get wet between your legs when you are about to be
spanked?" Kaitlin knew she was trapped.
Despite her fear of the spanking she was about to receive, no matter that
it was her own sister stripping her, Kaitlin, as she did when her father spanked
her, had become aroused. A single
finger would be all Emma would require to verify her suspicions...
and that thought, although she knew the idea to be horrid in theory, only
made her wetter.
"Yes, Emma,"
she replied at last.
"I thought so,"
the elder sibling replied, her hand moving with a nonchalant gesture, towards
that very part of her that Kaitlin feared for most during her spankings.
The rest of her body, justly, felt only pain as her father's hand or
razor strop lashed at her bare bottom; only her pussy refused to be bound by
pain alone but determined also to take pleasure in her suffering.
This, Kaitlin had always felt sure, was unforgivable - yet now, as Emma's
middle finger began to stroke ever so lightly along her most sensitive ridge of
swollen flesh, it became apparent that the conflation of sex and punishment was
one to which her sister, too, was prey. Kaitlin
did no more cool, rational thinking. Emma's
finger - no, two fingers by now, were inside her.
Another hand was continuing to make love to her clitoris and Kaitlin,
whose experience of sex was less advanced even than her sister's had been up
until her introduction to Katherine Parr, could do nothing but close her eyes
and - now loudly, now softly - moan. Emma,
however much she enjoyed the conquest, had her priorities.
Once she had seduced Kaitlin into parting her thighs, it was time to move
onto the evening's main entertainment.
The loving, slowly
rhythmical caress left Kaitlin suddenly and she felt the emotional equivalent of
a chill breeze blowing across her naked thighs. Her sister was telling her to fall across her knees and
obediently Kaitlin, trance-like, complied with Emma's request, lifting her
tautly curved cheeks up to take what was due.
Emma began to spank and
speak simultaneously, the soundness of the punishment closely matched by the
sharpness of the scolding:
"You are a wilful
and naughty little girl, Kaitlin," Emma began, accompanied from the first
by a delicious cocktail of resounding wails and tinkling screeches as her hand
fell heavily and repeatedly across her sister's bare behind.
"Your behavior will get you into a great deal of trouble at your new
school and I therefore consider it my sisterly duty to help to correct the worst
excesses of your faulty conduct before you begin there."
She stopped spanking for
a moment and allowed one hand to stray between Kaitlin's thighs, the younger
girl parting them at once. As her
fingers luxuriated in her sister's pink, silky marshland, she softened her voice
and continued:
"Kaitlin, I am going
to ask you a question. Before you
answer, consider what I have said already.
Consider, too, the likelihood that if you reach Katherine Parr without
sufficiently adjusting your behavior, your bare bottom is likely to feel the
weight of Mr Lindon's cane across it on several occasions.
The question is this: will
you submit to accepting punishment from me whenever I feel that it is necessary?
You need answer only yes or no."
Kaitlin's mind struggled
to weigh the consequences of accepting or refusing, the sweet waves of pleasure
passing through her as a result of Emma's caress making thinking extremely
difficult. She knew from Emma's
letters that terrible punishment awaited her at Katherine Parr - but would she
not simply be able to change her behavior when she got there?
And yet, a voice within her chided her, hadn't she repeatedly brought
extra chastisement upon herself these past few weeks by not accepting her
daddy's hand with grace? Hadn't she answered back and tried to refuse to pull her
knickers down and take up her position over his knees or the piano stool?
Wasn't it clear, however much she recognized that her future happiness
depended upon the injection of discipline into her young life now, that her
natural reaction to punishment (unlike her sister's) was to resist?
"Yes," she whispered finally.
At the word, Kaitlin's
spanking recommenced with vigor. Emma
smiled down at her sister's rosy cheeks and continued to reprimand her:
"I am glad you see
the necessity of that," she said. "I
shall be less tolerant of your tantrums than daddy.
If you rebel against his just decision to spank you as you did this
evening, you should expect not only an additional few strokes from him, but an
extra beating from me too. For every cross word you utter, your bare bottom will be made
to pay. You must learn.
And I will teach you."
From that point, Emma
concentrated on delivering as severe a punishment as was possible using only her
hand. She half considered taking up
her father's razor strop - but no, she had told her sister that this was to be a
hand spanking. She would simply
have to make it count. Almost half
an hour had passed by the time Emma finally laid the last imprint upon Kaitlin's
bruised and ruddy bottom. She had
taken occasional breaks to recover her breath, and to rest her hand, but for
most of the time Kaitlin had been weeping and yelping under her firm spanking.
Looking down at the heaving body laying, with its limb immodestly
splayed, across her thighs, Emma felt quite content.
"Darling Kaitlin,"
she whispered, her hand lightly stroking her sister's hair, "I will teach
you..."