Subject: EMMA AT SCHOOL Episode 16 - Home At
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Rosewood)
Date: Sun, 21 Jul 1996 03:22:35 UTC
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 behaviour 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.
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?"
"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 behaviour 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 behaviour, 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 behaviour 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 recognised 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 vigour. 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..."