Portrait of a Disciplinarian by Aishling Morgan Page A

Hermione replied.
    ‘Tell me, H.,’ Stephanie insisted.
    ‘No, I won’t.’
    ‘I want to know.’
    ‘I don’t care.’
    Stephanie fell silent, wondering if she should threaten to spank the truth out of her sister and then remembering that she’d promised not to, at least after a fashion. They continued to walk, now across a piece of open common that bordered the moor, while Stephanie’s curiosity grew ever stronger. They came to a stile set in a wall, the lower step a convenient height for sitting on.
    ‘Please tell me,’ Stephanie said.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Please, H.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘If you don’t tell me, I shall be cross.’
    ‘I don’t care.’
    ‘You will if I have to spank it out of you.’
    Hermione didn’t answer, but threw Stephanie a worried look. Stephanie allowed her mouth to curve up into a small, satisfied style.
    ‘Tell me, H., or I will spank you. I mean it.’
    ‘No, you don’t.’
    ‘Oh, yes, I do. Now tell me or I’m going to take you across my knee and have that fat little bottom bare and smack it, right here.’
    ‘But you said you wouldn’t,’ Hermione answered, her sulky tone starting to give way to panic, ‘not any more.’
    ‘I said I wouldn’t when the aunts pass you around,’ Stephanie said. ‘This is different. Now come here.’
    She reached out as she spoke and caught her sister by the wrist. Hermione tried to pull away but Stephanie held on, hauling her now pleading victim forward towards the stile.
    ‘You can stop this any time you like, little sister,’ Stephanie said as her calves bumped against the hard wood of the stile. ‘Just tell my why you’ve suddenly gone all arty.’
    ‘Please, Stephanie!’ Hermione begged, now close to tears.
    ‘Well, if you’re going to be obstinate,’ Stephanie replied.
    She pulled, intending to haul her sister down across her knee and sit down at the same time, but Hermione pulled back.
    ‘Get over my knee, you little beast!’ Stephanie snapped.
    ‘You’re the beast!’ Hermione yelled back.
    Again Stephanie pulled. Still she couldn’t get her sister off balance, and Hermione had begun to smile. With a horrible sinking feeling Stephanie realised that she was no longer the stronger of the two. Her cruelty turned to fear as she realised that Hermione not only wasn’t trying to get away but was intent on turning the tables.
    ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ she spat, determined to exert her authority.
    The two of them closed, grappling at each other’s bodies, tearing at clothes and pulling hair, each determined to get the other down across her lap. Stephanie fought with the strength of her rising panic, determined not to suffer the unbearable indignity of a spanking from her baby sister. It did her no good. Hermione was heavier, stronger and just as determined.
    An awful sick feeling welled up in Stephanie’s throat as she realised she was going to lose, and she made a final desperate effort to throw Hermione down over the stile. It nearly worked; both of them were off balance for a moment, but Hermione managed to twist round and land with her bottom on the step of the stile, pulling her sister down with her. Hermione had a good grip and Stephanie was hauled slowly down in a flurry of wildly kicking feet and flailing arms, her brain seething with consternation as she was placed into spanking position across her little sister’s knee, still yelling threats but begging at the same time.
    ‘No, you beast! I’ll get you back, Hermione! Let me go, you pig … you horrid fat pig, let me go! Please, H., I beg you … please, no, not this … please … you horrid little witch, you … I’ll have Vera hold you down and I’ll use my hairbrush on you, I will! Oh, you beast! Beast! Beast! Beast!’
    Her dress had been hauled up in the middle of her tirade, exposing her bare thighs and the seat of her union suit to the cool moorland air. The field they were in was visible to the entire western face of Dartmoor, so that anyone out walking