chest and continued to glare then nodded once. It was a jolty, short sort of nod. I had her, and she knew it. It made my smile widen.
“You know what I want?” I walked toward her and put my hands on her shoulders, squeezing. Oh, but how my palm itched to bend her over, bare that spoiled little ass and spank it, taking her down a notch. But it wasn’t time for that. Not yet. “Believe it or not, I want you to be a better person, Lisa. We are family, now, after all. And, quite frankly, your acting this way is hurting our family, but, most especially, it’s hurting you.” It was all true. I did want her to be better, to get over whatever was going on in her head or talk to me about it like she used to, and just be herself again. Be the girl she’d been when I’d first met her, not this person whom I didn’t like very much. But she’d cut me off a couple of years ago, and I had no idea of the reason for it. Well, okay, I may have had some idea. There had been one night when we’d been talking. She’d always come to my room and we’d lie in my bed and talk. Those nights were nice. I liked being with her. But then she’d kissed me.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t wanted the kiss, but I was three years older than her, technically an adult. She’d been fifteen, jailbait. And — and this was the biggest and — she was my stepsister. Yes, there had been a growing attraction between us, but I was sure I could keep it cool. And I had. But my rejecting her had effectively ended any friendly relations between us. I’d tried to talk to her about it, to explain that it wasn’t her I was rejecting, but she wouldn’t talk to me, not any more than she had to. In a way, I guess I was the reason for her being like she was, at least partially, and that made me feel even more responsible to help fix it. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit more sordid, and much more interesting, thoughts crept up right alongside that responsibility.
“What do you want then?”
“I want you to accept a punishment from me.”
From her expression, that took her back. “A punishment? What does that mean?”
“You’re not getting off scot-free. That’s done nothing for your attitude but worsen it. I think what you need, Lisa, is some good old-fashioned discipline. Sadly, your mother doesn’t provide it, and my father wouldn’t discipline you, not at this age. Me, though? That’s another story.” I held up my right hand and she looked at it, her expression wary. “In fact, my hand’s been itching to spank that ass of yours for some time now.”
At first, she stared, mouth hanging open, flabbergasted. It took her a minute. She flipped her long dark hair back, snorted, opened her mouth to speak some smart-ass comeback, I imagined, but I didn’t give her the chance.
“One weekend. You submit to me and I’ll shut up about this little incident.”
“One weekend ? A whole weekend ?”
I nodded.
She shook her head, then, as if having now heard what I’d said earlier, asked: “You want to spank me?”
“For starters.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Guess you’ll have to accept my terms to find out.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you.” As emotional as she was, I was the opposite. I was in control, calm, collected. At least, on the outside. Inside, I was doing a victory dance. It was kind of asshole-ish of me, I supposed, but there it was.
It took her a minute, again, which was funny considering Lisa’s tongue cut like a warrior’s sword on most occasions. Strange to see her without a retort. “You want to spank me?” she asked again.
“I think we’ve established that.”
“Fine, here.” She turned to the side and stuck her ass out at me. “Get your rocks off, perv.”
I laughed. “Oh no, it’ll be done on my terms. One weekend buys my silence. Complete submission to my every word, and I promise you’ll come out of it a better, more humbled, more likeable person.”
We both heard the car pull up the
“You know what I want?” I walked toward her and put my hands on her shoulders, squeezing. Oh, but how my palm itched to bend her over, bare that spoiled little ass and spank it, taking her down a notch. But it wasn’t time for that. Not yet. “Believe it or not, I want you to be a better person, Lisa. We are family, now, after all. And, quite frankly, your acting this way is hurting our family, but, most especially, it’s hurting you.” It was all true. I did want her to be better, to get over whatever was going on in her head or talk to me about it like she used to, and just be herself again. Be the girl she’d been when I’d first met her, not this person whom I didn’t like very much. But she’d cut me off a couple of years ago, and I had no idea of the reason for it. Well, okay, I may have had some idea. There had been one night when we’d been talking. She’d always come to my room and we’d lie in my bed and talk. Those nights were nice. I liked being with her. But then she’d kissed me.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t wanted the kiss, but I was three years older than her, technically an adult. She’d been fifteen, jailbait. And — and this was the biggest and — she was my stepsister. Yes, there had been a growing attraction between us, but I was sure I could keep it cool. And I had. But my rejecting her had effectively ended any friendly relations between us. I’d tried to talk to her about it, to explain that it wasn’t her I was rejecting, but she wouldn’t talk to me, not any more than she had to. In a way, I guess I was the reason for her being like she was, at least partially, and that made me feel even more responsible to help fix it. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit more sordid, and much more interesting, thoughts crept up right alongside that responsibility.
“What do you want then?”
“I want you to accept a punishment from me.”
From her expression, that took her back. “A punishment? What does that mean?”
“You’re not getting off scot-free. That’s done nothing for your attitude but worsen it. I think what you need, Lisa, is some good old-fashioned discipline. Sadly, your mother doesn’t provide it, and my father wouldn’t discipline you, not at this age. Me, though? That’s another story.” I held up my right hand and she looked at it, her expression wary. “In fact, my hand’s been itching to spank that ass of yours for some time now.”
At first, she stared, mouth hanging open, flabbergasted. It took her a minute. She flipped her long dark hair back, snorted, opened her mouth to speak some smart-ass comeback, I imagined, but I didn’t give her the chance.
“One weekend. You submit to me and I’ll shut up about this little incident.”
“One weekend ? A whole weekend ?”
I nodded.
She shook her head, then, as if having now heard what I’d said earlier, asked: “You want to spank me?”
“For starters.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Guess you’ll have to accept my terms to find out.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you.” As emotional as she was, I was the opposite. I was in control, calm, collected. At least, on the outside. Inside, I was doing a victory dance. It was kind of asshole-ish of me, I supposed, but there it was.
It took her a minute, again, which was funny considering Lisa’s tongue cut like a warrior’s sword on most occasions. Strange to see her without a retort. “You want to spank me?” she asked again.
“I think we’ve established that.”
“Fine, here.” She turned to the side and stuck her ass out at me. “Get your rocks off, perv.”
I laughed. “Oh no, it’ll be done on my terms. One weekend buys my silence. Complete submission to my every word, and I promise you’ll come out of it a better, more humbled, more likeable person.”
We both heard the car pull up the
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