Chapter 2

by Megan Smith

Eric’s last final exam had been cancelled and as a result we drove home a day early. Eric’s my "little" brother, only one year younger than I am. He’s not a whole lot taller, either. I’m five-six and he’s about five-ten and slight of build but in excellent shape. Sinewy as they say. He’s handsome and smarter that I but you’ll never hear me say it to his face. I’m really quite proud of him.

Our dad died when we were little and that fact has made us closer than the average brother/sister. It was rough on us at first, particularly mom, but we all learned to move on. Mom’s been dating a guy named David for the past couple years. They’re pretty serious but I never heard any talk about marriage.

Eric wasn’t allowed to keep his car at school so he stored it at a friend’s house that has extra garage space. I dropped him off there so he could pick his car up and I continued on home. I was looking forward to seeing mom again. The door was open so I walked in with my duffel and down the hall past mom’s room. I glanced in and what I saw presaged an extraordinary summer. Mom was standing stark naked in front of her three-way mirror looking at her body which was covered, front and back, with red, black and blue stripes and welts. When she caught my eye I’ll bet we both looked like those cartoon characters where their eyes bug out of their head. She threw on her robe and we both were soon sitting at the kitchen table having a heart to heart.

I can’t say that mom did a particularly good job of explaining things to me but the bottom line was that I understood. She’s into the pain, sex, humiliation thing and if that’s OK for her then its OK for me. I think. The revelation came so quickly it was going to take me a while to assimilate things. I’d talk it over with Eric. It’d be interesting to see what his feelings were.

Mom got dressed and left to shop. She gave me a kiss, told me once more not to worry and left. I think she wanted to be alone and wanted me to be alone, at least for a while. I thought that that was a good idea. It’d give me a chance to think things through. Boy, was I ever wrong! She wasn’t gone ten minutes when in walked David. David is what is known as a hunk. Tall with rugged good looks and a crooked smile like Harrison Ford. Sandy hair that falls over his forehead giving him an appealing adolescent look in spite of his forty plus years. The kind of personality that you instantly like. And rich. Mucho rich! The two of us had gotten to know each other pretty well over the years and we had a good relationship.

When he appeared we said hello, gave each other a friendly hug and bussed each other’s cheek. Then I had to get cute.

"So you and mom are whipping something up, huh, David’" I said.

He gave me a steely look, devoid of expression. I soldered on. "You know, some of this," I said, making a whipping motion with my hand.

A slight crooked smile appeared on his face as he contemplated me and I began to get a little nervous. I expected light banter between two adults but what I was getting was a look that was making my tummy churn and my heart beat faster.

"Megan," David said. "I want you to stand straighter, shoulders back, stomach in." He said it with a quiet voice that assumed that I would follow his instruction, which I did not. The command was so inappropriate that I was too confused to follow them.

David stepped closer to me and gently touched my cheek with his hand. His eyes burned into mine. "Now," he said even more quietly.

It was a manner that assumed obedience and without thinking about it I straightened up, squared my shoulders and pulled my tummy in. His fingertips slowly trailed down my cheek to my throat and continued over my tee-shirt to my breast. Just his fingertips were gently caressing the top of my left breast as he looked into my eyes. My heart was racing and I had a scared and excited feeling in my tummy.

"Take off your shirt," he said in his quiet authoritative manner.

"David, I…," I started to say.

"Don’t talk, Megan. Do as I say," he interrupted.

For reasons that I’ll never understand I crossed my arms in front of me, gripped the bottom of my tee-shirt with each hand and raised my arms over my head pulling my shirt with it. I let it drop to the floor and gave my head a shake to get my hair out of my face. David’s hand drifted to my bra strap and slid it down over my shoulder. With his eyes still boring into mine he simply nodded. Slowly I reached behind me and unfastened my bra and shrugged it off. It fell to my feet exposing my breasts.

"Please remove your sandals, Megan," he said.

I raised my right foot behind me, leaned to my right and, reaching down, slipped off my sandal that clunked to the floor to join my shirt and bra. I repeated the maneuver with my left sandal. I was down to my shorts and panties but this fact didn’t register. Nothing was registering. There was no past and no future and no conscious decisions on my part. David commanded and I responded. Those two facts made up my total existence. David’s eyes never left mine as he slowly extended his hand to my naked breast and very lightly touched my nipple that was erect and hard. His hand slid down under my breasts and over my tummy until it reached the top of my shorts. His fingers slipped under the waistband and slid to the button in front, which he unfastened.

"Now the shorts, please," he said.

I had relinquished all control. If that’s what David wanted then that’s what would happen. I unzipped the shorts, slid them down over my legs and stepped out of them. When I stood upright again David said, "Please, Megan, your posture."

In my nakedness, I was subconsciously squeezing my shoulders and hunching my back but, of course, David would have none of that. As he commanded, I straightened my shoulders and sucked in my tummy. That simple movement changed my demeanor from embarrassment to pride. I had an attractive body and if David wanted to see it then goddam it he was going to see it the way it should be seen. Strange how your emotions work, sometimes. Without David commanding it I slipped off my panties, stood straight and tall, looked David in the eye and said, "OK, I’m naked. Now what?"

"Now," he replied, "You must suffer. By the front entrance there’s an umbrella stand. In it there is a cane, I want you to fetch it."

A cane? Is this some Victorian novel? I’d heard of "the cane." So now I’m to be beaten with a cane, huh? So be it! A cane it shall be. In my naked splendor, tummy in, chest out, shoulders back, I strode to the front hall, retrieved the cane (thinking to myself where the hell did this come from?) and returned, presenting it to David.

"Bend over the table, Megan and grip the far edge," he said.

Slowly I did as David commanded thinking how calm I must appear. I wasn’t calm, though. My insides were churning. My heart was racing and I had a feeling that I can’t describe. A combination of excitement and dread, maybe. As I stretched myself over the table I could picture how enticing and vulnerable I must have looked to David. It was like I was offering him my naked butt and saying, "Go ahead. Beat me. Whatever you want. I’m all yours." It’s a strange erotic feeling. One that I would become quite familiar with as the summer wore on.

"Don’t let go of the table, Megan," I heard him say.

I’m not sure what I expected but it was nothing like the burning pain I felt as the first stroke seared into my ass. My back arched as I threw my head back and gripped the table with a white knuckled grip.

"Eeyoww!" was all I could say. Very articulate.

"You didn’t loose your grip, Megan. That’s good. You’re doing better than your mother did the first time," I heard David say through my pain.

That simple statement created all kinds of strange emotions inside my brain. It made me proud that I was performing better than mom, a person whom I always considered to be very strong. Then I thought of mom stretched over this same table like I was and suffering as I was. Strangely, I wasn’t angry with David for beating my mother. I began to understand those marks on her body a little better.

The next blow to my bottom interrupted my thoughts. After that all my attention was focused on only one thing. The burning, excruciating pain in my bottom.

After four strokes I was crying unashamedly. Without breaking my grip on the table edge I tried to twist my hips away from the onslaught of the cane. To no avail. After eight I was begging piteously. What’s strange is that all I had to do was stand, say enough, dress and leave. But I didn’t. I cried and suffered and begged David to stop.

After ten he said, "Just three more, Megan. You’re doing fine. Now listen very carefully to what I’m going to say." His voice was so quiet and self-assured. Through my pain I concentrated on his every word. "You are not to move or look behind you. Is that absolutely clear?"

"Yes." I sobbed. Why would I look behind me?

"We’re not alone, Megan. Someone has joined us. I wanted you to be aware of that."

Before I could respond to this startling news the next stroke cut into my bottom.

I cried and continued to writhe my ass out of the way while thinking how unbelievably humiliating this had become. Someone was watching my crying and suffering. It had to be mom or Eric. Who else could just walk into our kitchen? What were they thinking? Why didn’t they say something?

Two more. Only two more. David had paused. Probably to let me think about the next two and to think about how my sobbing shaking body must look to whomever was with us. As I lay stretched over the table the burning in my ass seemed to be increasing. It was like a fire that, as it burned down, the coals got hotter and hotter. I didn’t see how I could stand two more strokes cutting into me. I was sobbing uncontrollably thinking about the current pain and about the additional pain I was to endure and about my humiliation.

But I did endure. Somehow I suffered through my final two tortuous strokes. Before the last stroke was delivered David instructed me not to move when he was finished. That I was to remain as I was until he gave me permission to stand. And so after the final cut seared into my ass I continued to lie stretched over the table, crying and shaking in my pain.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to regain some control. Although my bottom continued to be unbearably painful I was beginning to learn to accept the pain. That was when Eric walked around the table and stood in front of me. He placed his hands over mine and knelt so that his face was just above the tabletop and looking directly into mine. I lifted my chin off the table and looked into his eyes. I was still sobbing and sniffling a little but not uncontrollably like before.

He smiled gently and said, "My god, you can’t believe how beautiful you look. Poor sweet Megan, it’s all over now. I guess the bad news is that I’m afraid I’m next."

He stood up, leaned over and gently kissed my wet cheeks. First one and then the other. Then he walked back behind me, to admire my poor naked, belabored ass, I guess. I remained in the same position for maybe ten minutes. I thought about all the strange things going on and wondered where it was all going. The pain in my bottom was sort of settling in, becoming part of me. No longer the primary focus of my attention. David interrupted my thoughts.

"You may stand now, Megan," he said.

I used my hands to push myself up from the table and stood on rubbery legs, keeping one hand on the table to steady myself. Eric rushed to my side and took my elbow to help me.

"She’s OK now, Eric," said David as he stepped up to me and held my upper arm. Eric stepped back. David stepped even closer and with his other hand he tilted my chin up and kissed me gently on the lips. He looked in my eyes as the hand on my elbow drifted down to my abdomen and then my crotch. His fingers slipped between my legs and into me and caressed me where it does the most good. I was surprised at how wet and ready I was. I pressed myself against his hand and moaned softly. All the time I was aware that Eric was watching this rather wanton display being performed by his sister. Two hours earlier I would have been terribly humiliated to have him witness such behavior on my part but things had changed and were continuing to change faster that I could calculate. The fact that Eric was watching me lewdly grind my sex against David’s hand was a humiliating but much more important was the fact that I found it to be highly erotic. What was happening to me? Where was this all going?