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Message-ID: <31333asstr$994615801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Don Winslow <dwin2001@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Big Sister Gets Hers (Part 4) (D/s, m/F, humil, spnkng) (4/5)
Date: Sun,  8 Jul 2001 14:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Big Sister4.txt" begin>


Big Sister Gets Hers (D/s m/F humil  spnkng)
by Don Winslow


Part 4


Ron knew their secret was safe, since neither of them could say a word 
about what had happened that day in Shelly's bedroom without both of 
them getting into real trouble.  Still, he seethed with venegrence.  The 
awful humiliation burned deep inside him.  He swore he'd see that his 
sister paid for what she'd done to him.  He was patient, but he knew 
that somehow, someday, he would get his revenge on the stuck-up, 
overbearing bitch who had sat there smirking while he pleasured himself 
at her command.  And then one day, as often happens with such things, 
his chance came quite out of the blue.


 That night, Shelly had invited over several of her girlfriends.  Two of 
the girls, Ron thought, were kind of hot, although they wouldn't give 
him the time of day.  Shelly met her friends at the door and they all 
raced immediately to her room, shouting a greeting to his parents on 
their way up the stairs.  Every once in a while you could hear them 
giggling through the closed door.  He sat in the livingroom with his 
parents watching TV, vaguely listening to the sounds from her room, 
feeling bored.  He got up to go out on the porch.  It was a warm 
summer's night, and he got to wondering, not for the first time, about 
what the girls did when they got together. 


He went down to front lawn and then circled the house, till he came to a 
place just below her open window.   It was then, as he stood looking up 
at the lighted window, that a curious odor came to him, smoky and sweet-
smelling.  He recognized that smell.  It was pot!   Burning marijuana -- 
he was sure of it!  Straining to look up, he thought he saw a faint 
whiff of smoke come from the open window.  Immediately a plan formed in 
his mind.  


Walking swiftly but stealthily, he raced back into the house, past the 
livingroom with his unsupecting parents, to get his mother's polaroid 
camera.  Armed with the camera under a jacket he quickly threw on, he 
made his escape past the TV watchers, and back out to the sideyard.   He 
was trembling with excitement, forcing himself to be careful, as he 
climbed the big oak tree that stood outside his Sister's window.  Ron 
climbed this tree many times as a kid.  He knew that there was a certain 
place, up among the branches, where you could get a good view into the 
room.  He sometimes made the climb in hopes of getting a peak at his 
sister undressing, but she almost always drew the drapes.  This time 
they were left open, undoubtedly to let the telltale fumes escape.


He edged up to see over the window sill, and he saw all four of them 
sitting on her bed in a loose circle.  They were sharing a toke, 
giggling and laughing while rock music pounded from his sister's CD 
player.  He couldn't make out what they were saying, of course, but that 
didn't matter.  It was obvious what was going on.  Trembling with 
excitement, he opened the camera and adjusted the settings.  Working to 
hold it steady, he pointed it at the lighted room and squeezed off 
several shots as the funny little cirgarette was being passed around.  
His parents wouldn't tolerate their kids smoking, but they went 
absolutely crazy over just the thought of drugs.  They would have been 
totally shocked to find their precious little princess was getting 
high...in their very house!


As the first picture emerged from the camera, the grinning teenager felt 
a deep surge of satisfaction.  By the dim light, he studied the photo in 
his trembling hand.  It wasn't too good, but it was clear enough to make 
it out.  He had her!  He knew he had her!  Now, to plot his revenge.


******  ******  *****
Of course, he knew he'd have to wait till they were alone in the house: 
it was almost two weeks, with the incriminating photos carefully hidden 
in the dictionary he kept over the desk in his room.  Just knowing they 
were there, filled Ron with wild elation.  From time to time he'd sneak 
them out to study them, grinning and chuckling to himself.  His mood was 
upbeat.  Even his mother noted that he wasn't so "sulky' of late.  He 
just smiled at her, and at his sister, assuring them he was "just fine."  
Shelly's eyes narrowed.  She didn't trust him, and probably sensed that 
he was up to something.


It was only a matter of time till his parents went on one of their 
regular trips to Aunt Grace's.  Aunt Grace was sick; (she was always 
sick) and mother was worried, so off they went.  Shelly was seldom 
forced to go on these family outings anymore, and increasingly Ron found 
he could get out of them too, if he had an excuse.  Usually, he pleaded 
that he had extra homework to do, and that almost always worked to get 
him out of it.


So, on that Saturday, and Ron stood behind the front door, watching as 
their car pulled away, waving back at his mother, who always looked back 
as she left.  Then he turned away, his heart racing with excitement.  He 
made himself stop and think: would have to get a grip on himself, to 
take it slow and easy.  He had her all to himself, and today, she would 
pay!


*****
Retrieving the photos from their hiding place, he marched straight to 
Shelly's room.  He had practiced this day many times in his mind.  He 
would throw open the door, and stride in, confronting her, presenting 
her with the damning evidence.  He tried the knob.  The door was locked!  
He cursed, and knocked, hard.


"Shelly, open up!"


"Go away! I'm busy."


"Shelly, you better open this door.  I got something to show you.  
Something you're gonna want to see."


He waited, finally the door opened just a crack and she peered out at 
him, an expression of annoyance on her face.


"What do you want?"


"I want to talk to you,"  he said, holding the pictures behind him.


"What have you got there?" she demanded, instantly suspicious.


"Something you're gonna want to see.  Let me in."


She stepped back to let him in.  He couldn't help grinning at her, as 
she stood in the doorway in her tank top and cut-offs, a scowl on her 
pretty blond face.  


He had rehearsed this moment many times: what he would say, as, with a 
dramatic flourish, he produced the evidence of her pot-smoking., and 
shoved it under her nose.  But as he brought the photos out from behind 
his back, she surprised him by making a grab for them.  His reactions 
were quick; he thrust the set of photos out at arm's length away from 
her.  Although Ron had always been "little brother," he had undergone a 
spurt of growth that now put him an inch or two taller than his older 
sister.  He used his long gangly arms, and hard, wiry body to keep her 
at bay.


"Wait a minute!  Wait a minute!" he cried.  "I'll let you see them.  In 
fact, I want you to see them.  You can look, but don't touch."  She 
stopped trying to snatch at the pictures he held up high over his head, 
and backed off.


Ron knew he had her attention now.  He sat on her bed, and patted the 
place next to him.  She plunked down on the bed, but not too close, her 
suspicion deepening.  Trying to suppress a smile, he held up the first 
picture:  There was Shelly and Erin, sharing a joint!  The next showed 
Shelly: the funny little cigarette between her lips, her eyes closed, 
taking a deep drag!   He watched her as she silently took in each, while 
he showed her all six pictures.


Once again, she tried to snatch them away, but he anticipated her 
reaction this time and was a half-second faster.  The hand holding the 
pictures shot up over his head, just as she sprang at him, knocking him 
backwards onto the bed.  Shelly was on him like a wildcat, scrambling up 
his outstretched body, desperate to get at the damning evidence.


He tossed the pictures over the edge of the bed, and as she scrambled 
after them he wrapped his arms around her hips and rolled her over onto 
her back.  Then he was on her and they were wrestling, like they did 
when they were kids.  But this time it was different, wonderfully 
exciting to feel her lightly-clad body rubbing against his.  She 
continued to struggle under him; he relished the exciting feel of her: 
her warm, soft, girl's body squirming under him.  He felt a creamy rise 
of pleasure. Then he managed to overpower her and, straddling her waist, 
pinned her to the mattress by her upraised wrists.


She looked up from under her bangs; fire in her hard brown eyes.


"Let me gooo, you creep," she grunted through clenched teeth, arching 
back off the bed, and inadvertently giving the boy an eyeful of  her 
frisky breasts in their loose halter top. 


"Whoooa, settle down Shelly.  We gotta have a little talk."


"Let me uuup!" she demanded. Still the same old bitch!


"Not till we've talked about those pictures."


The girl ceased struggling.  "Let me up, and we can talk," her voice was 
unemotional.


He didn't trust her;  knew she was only waiting for a chance to get her 
hands on the pictures.


"No, I like you right where you are," he said, easing back to sit on her 
belly.


"So what do you want, creep?"


"First of all, I don't like you calling me names.  In fact, why don't 
you just shut up for once, and listen."


He had practiced this speech many times in his mind, but now with her 
beneath him, glaring up at at him from under those blond bangs,  he was 
momentarily flustered.


Summoning up his courage, he took a deep breath and plowed on. 

"The way I look at it is, that if I show these little beauties to Mon 
and Dad, you've had it.  Mom'll go on the warpath.  You'll be grounded 
for a month.  And you know what Dad'll do.  He'll use that strap of his 
on that precious ass of yours till its black and blue.  You won't be 
able to sit down for a week once he gets through with you."


For the moment, she only glared at him, wondering perhaps if he was 
serious, and deciding he probably was.


"What do you want?"  The voice she used was flat, uncaring. As though 
she didn't give a damn.
 

 If not accepting defeat, she was at least becoming more reasonable.  
Ronny knew this was a critical time.  She could go either way.  He was 
close, very close, but he had to be careful.


"Ok, Shell, here's the deal.  You remember that time when I was messin' 
around in your drawers?
And you came in, and made me...do what you wanted?  Well, now you're 
gonna do what I want.
I'll tell, and I got the evidence to show them.


Shelly who was a bright girl, in fact quite bit smarter than her younger 
brother, grasped the situation immediately.  He was blackmailing her!  
There was no doubt in her mind that the snot would carry out his threat.  
Her parents thought any kind of drugs were the work of the devil, and 
her Dad would spank her unmercifully.  An involuntary shiver ran through 
her at the thought. 


 Her hard eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked up at the grinning 
bastard who hovered over her.  She fought to control herself, forcing 
out the words: 


"What do you want?"


His eyes lit up in barely controlled triumph.


"I'm gonna make a deal with you, bitch." He said the last word with 
increased boldness now.  He felt sure he had her!  "The way I look at, 
you're gonna get a spankin'  Either I tell and Dad beats your ass black 
and blue with the strap, or... I do it...with my hand.  He was quick to 
add.  You decide."


He held his breath, petrified that she still might refuse.


After what seemed like an eternity, with the two of them just staring at 
one another, she was the first to blink.  Her blond lashes fluttered 
down.


"I want the pictures," she said in a quiet, but implacable tone.


Ron's grin widened.  He couldn't help smiling.  "Sure Shell, sure.  I'll 
give you the pictures as soon as we're  through here.  I promise.  But 
first, you have to do what I say...exactly what I say."


"All right, get off of me," she grunted reluctantly.


Ron slowly dismounted, wary of a sudden attack.  He didn't trust his 
sister, and he wasn't totally sure she had been subdued.  But she just 
lay there, staring at the ceiling, passive, and seemingly acquiescent.


Ron got off the bed to bring over a small, gold metal chair, and place 
it at the center of the room, in front of the big mirror that hung over 
the vanity.


	He plunked down on the chair, planted his spread feet, and, giving 
her a big smile, lightly patted his blue-jeaned thigh.  "Ok, bitch, now 
bring your ass over here."  The teenager was clearly enjoying himself.



End of part 4
Copyright 2001, Don Winslow

For more of Don Winslow's erotic fiction visit: 
https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Don_Winslow/www









	


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