It’s What a Big Sister Should Do

By Louise Vancisic

More than anything, ten-year-old Cynthia Kim wanted to have the respect and friendship of her younger sister, Jessi. It saddened her deeply that she had neither. At school she was friends with a girl named Emily whose family’s disciplinary practices were very much like the Kim’s. Emily also had a younger sister, almost the same age as Jessi. But here the similarity ended. Emily and Lauren were best friends as well as sisters. They stuck up for each other and always tried to get the other out of trouble. And when they couldn’t, and one of them was spanked, the other felt only sympathy.

Cynthia and Emily were grateful to have found each other and readily confided in each other their deepest secrets. Cynthia told her friend how much she admired her sibling relationship and how she envied it. “I don’t know why Jessi is so mean to me.”

Emily gave her friend’s hand a sympathetic squeeze and told her how once she had confessed to something her sister had done and for which a very hard spanking would unquestionably be administered. Emily could not bear to watch her sister’s spanking and told Lauren that she would tell Mom that it had been her fault. It was the first time that Emily volunteered to take the rap for something with which she was completely uninvolved. She still remembered the worshipful look that Lauren had given her and how good it made her feel.

About a half hour later, posed across her mother’s lap, Emily may have had some second thoughts, but it was too late. Mrs. Kruger spanked Emily’s bare bottom long and hard, then ordered the crying girl directly to bed. Emily lay, curled up on her side, her bottom and upper thighs still bare and darkly colored, one hand stroking the very red, very sore-looking area. She was still sniffling and squirming, trying desperately to soothe away the sting in her behind when she heard the door being pushed open.

Her eyes tracked to those of her little sister and she used her other hand to wipe away the tears still covering her face. The sweet little girl, tear tracks on her face too, was bearing a cool wet washcloth.  Emily ignored her embarrassment at having her bottom exposed and moved over to make room for Lauren to sit down next to her on the bed. The little girl, eyes swimming with tears, bent over and kissed both fleshy mounds and deposited several tears. Moved by her sister’s gesture, a new wash of tears flooded down Emily’s face. 

“Turn over on your tummy,” Lauren told her older sister. After a moment, Emily complied and flopped over onto her tummy, burying her face in her pillow. It was then that Lauren noticed the full extent of the effects of her sister’s recent spanking.  The entire area of her bottom was dark red, including the section just below her behind and at the tops of her thighs.  In a few areas along the sides, she could see clear imprints of her mother’s long, slender fingers where she had apparently spanked Emily especially hard. She swallowed her dismay and carefully laid the cool cloth over as much of Emily’s bottom as she could.

The ten year old gasped at the unexpected coldness, and then relaxed to let the cloth do its work. Emily looked back over her shoulder to Lauren’s anxious expression. Again moved by her sister’s tears, Emily tried to force a smile before turning back to her pillow. Emily continued to cry softly into her pillow, wiggling slightly as the cloth, even with its soothing coolness, touched some particularly sore spots. Within minutes, the cloth became hot and damp.  Lauren carefully uncovered her sister’s bottom, stood up and walked back into the bathroom, intent on rendering the cloth cold and wet again for another application to the heated skin.

When Lauren returned, Emily turned her face toward her, her eyes still red and teary.  She reached out a hand and the little girl took it.  It was Emily’s way of thanking her little sister for the ‘first aid’.  Lauren gave her a supportive smile. And later Lauren changed into her nightclothes and slipped into bed with her sister. There they talked, exchanged little kisses and, arms around each other, fell sound asleep.

It was with mounting self-pity that Cynthia Kim listened to this tale. Jessi had never come to offer her comfort, let alone keep her company when she was sent to bed early.

“Look, Cynthia”, Emily said, eyes twinkling. “Give it a try. I mean take a spanking for her. It might change everything between you.”

Several days later, as the family returned home from a visit from the grandparents Cynthia realized that such an opportunity might well present itself in just a few minutes. Jessi and her cousin Lisa had gotten a little wild and accidentally knocked over and broken a rather expensive ceramic figurine. Despite her fervent apologies, Mrs. Kim coldly informed Jessi that she would be soundly spanked when they got home.

When they all had stepped inside their home, Jessi decided that it might be best for her to take her chances with her father. She walked up to Steven, who had settled down on the living room sofa, and put her little arms around his neck. “Oh daddie…” Jessi said in her most girlish little voice, “please tell Mommy not to spank me. I’m really sorry about breaking the figurine.”

“You know our rules about being careful at other people’s homes. You know that Cynthia is also going to be spanked. Do you think it’s fair that only she gets punished?”

“No Daddy. But can’t I be punished some other way. Cynthia’s used to being spanked but I almost never get in trouble. Shouldn’t that count for something? Please Daddy … I’m so afraid…”

Steven could not help but smile at her puppy dog eyes. “I’ll go talk with Mommy, OK?” Steven got up and walked into the kitchen, where his wife was busy getting food stuffs out of the freezer. Joyce listened as he asked her to consider an alternative consequence for little Jessi. In the discussion the idea of sparing Cynthia’s behind never came up. At any rate, Joyce was not budging on sparing the younger girl either. “You know that we need to be consistent with our girls’ discipline. Both girls deserve to be spanked.”

“But mommy…” The Kim parents turned around quickly. They had not heard Cynthia enter the kitchen.

“Who allowed you to sneak in here, Cynthia?” Joyce Kim asked.

“I just… I was just getting myself some water…”

“Your mother and I have something to discuss, Cynthia. If you could just leave us by ourselves for a few minutes, okay?” Steven was more than a little annoyed with the interruption.

“I’m sorry, daddy … I just heard you say that mom should let Jessi off…”

“Could you go now? Didn’t you hear what your father just said?” Joyce’s voice sounded even more ominous.

“I’m sorry.” Cynthia’s head had turned red. “But if you don’t want to spank Jessi… you could spank me instead.”

“Why should we want to do that?” Steven inquired.

“Well… in a way it has all been my fault. I mean, I’m the big sister and I should have watched her more closely. I should have told the girls to settle down. At least I could have moved the figurine to a safe place. I’m older and I should have known better. Please Mommy … let me take her spanking.”

“You are going to be spanked, Cynthia,” Mrs. Kim asserted. Steven looked at his daughter, and silently nodded his concurrence.

“I know…” Cynthia replied. “. “I will submit to any punishment you think is necessary. But not little Jessi, please … not her!” Cynthia so wished that her little sister might hear her brave action on her behalf. And she was lucky, in that respect. Jessi had just entered the kitchen, wondering what was going on there.  “It’s my fault that Jessi got in trouble. I know that you cannot let such carelessness go unpunished .b….but you should punish …me.”

Jessi’s eyes widened, in disbelief. Mrs. Kim’s expression turned quizzical. “Are you saying that you should receive the spanking that I was going to give Jessi?”

“Y… yes, Mommy. I am” she softly replied.

“But why would you do that? You know that means you will be spanked twice. ”

A surge of pride filled the ten year old. “Be … because I’m her big sister and that’s what a big sister should do.”

There followed a profound silence and for the first time that she could remember, Cynthia Kim found herself truly respected by her entire family. Little Jessi, who was usually only too prepared to promote the idea of a spanking for Cynthia, felt the coldness in her heart melt. And for a moment she even found herself wishing that her parents would grant pardons all around. 

Finally Mr. Kim broke the silence. “Very well Cynthia. Your mother and I will accede to your request. Mommy will do the honors. And as much as I admire you for your courage, I do not want to go easy on you. I expect to see you spank her hard, Joyce. And you, Jessi,” he turned to his younger daughter, “you will stay right here in the kitchen and watch as your sister gets a spanking that should rightfully be yours.”

Even while Steven was still speaking, Joyce had already moved the armless chair known in the Kim family as the “spanking chair” away from the kitchen table and placed it in the middle of the room. “All right, Cynthia, you have heard what your father said, and I quite agree with him. I will spank you, and I will not hold back. You deserve one spanking, and you have volunteered for another. You will get twenty for your failure to supervise your little sister and then you shall have twenty more on behalf of Jessi.  Now come here and let me take down your panties, Cynthia.”

Since she had become a “young lady”, at least in her own eyes, Cynthia dreaded that moment most when a spanking was approaching. Her mother insisted in pulling down her panties and baring her bottom.

“Please, mom, ca….can I do that myself? ..please….just this once ….”

The Kim parents exchanged glances and then nods. Joyce swung her eyes back to her daughter. “Very well, Cynthia. You’ve earned that privilege for tonight .Go ahead and take down your own panties.”

“Thank you, Mommy”, Cynthia almost gushed. Her friend Emily had talked of her desire to earn this right but thus far still had hers taken down by her mother. That she would be able to do it at the tender age of nine made her feel kind of grown up.  Yes, it would be embarrassing to expose herself to her Daddy and her little sister but the fact that she would be doing it herself made it somehow .. . ..not so bad. She would not make her parents regret their decision. She would lower her panties ever so gracefully and then she would go over Mommy’s lap and take her spanking like a big girl. Maybe if she did that, they’d see that she could be trusted to prepare herself properly and …maybe …the next time …they’d let her. 

Cynthia pictured how when her mother bared her, she did so by locking her fingers on the waistband at the side and then carefully edged the wispy garment down over her tummy, her privates and her thighs, coming to rest at her knees. That ceremony would last one to two minutes. Cynthia blushed as she realized it would mean exposing her naked front for a full minute or more. But she had asked to do it herself and so she’d just have to put up with it. Fighting off her embarrassment, she reached beneath her thickly pleated dress and under-slip and, gathering both garments atop her forearms, hooked her thumbs over either side of the waistband and stretched. Pushing downward she forced it to move off her waist to tickle down her tummy and buttocks. She pushed harder to slide the panties over the little bulges in her belly and behind, but once over the apex of her buttocks the path downward eased considerably.

There was a slightly longer pause as the garment caught at her crotch. But with aplomb she opened her thighs to enable the continued descent. When they reached just below mid-thigh, she rolled them into a neat uniform ring. She glanced at her mother who nodded her satisfaction.   Silence prevailed as she momentarily dropped her dress back into place. Then, deftly taking the hem in her fingertips, she carefully rolled the material into a neat packet that came to rest in the small of her back, framing the sweet naked bottom.  

And with that she stood, shamefaced to be sure, but also proud of being allowed to prepare herself like a big girl. She couldn’t wait to tell Emily about it. Emily would give her that smile that without words would express her approval. Her parents were proud of her; she could see that. And Jessi had to be impressed.

In a few years this privilege would become the norm. And then there would be no flushes of pride; just the awful shame of exposing herself to her parents and her little sister. Trembling hands would reluctantly reach under up the back of her frock and push her fingers to the elastic waistband of her white cotton panties. Tears blinding her, she would lowered her panties as required then let her skirt drop back into place; her buttocks naked and feeling so terrible and itchy from the anxiety of the moment. The greater her shame and dread of such a disciplining, her parents reasoned, the greater its value as a corrective measure. But for tonight Cynthia felt a measure of pride.

Cynthia looked over at her mother to indicate her readiness; Mrs. Kim pointed to her lap to indicate hers. Cynthia shuffled forward to the woman’s right and lowered herself onto her mother’s knees, resting her weight half on her belly, half on the top of her thighs; head and feet suspended because of her petite size, her long, straight hair almost resting on the floor. She did not know what to do with her hands; they kept grabbing the chair legs, moving to the floor, touching her hair and finally settling on her mother’s left calf.

Meanwhile Mrs. Kim circled Cynthia’s smooth waist with her left arm, her slim, long and very strong fingers pressing firmly against the quivering bare skin. She flexed the fingers of her right hand before passing them lightly over the naked upturned bottom at her disposal, starting at the base of the left cheek and ascending to the coccyx, then moving over to the right globe and descending her hand to the sit spot. By this she not only appraised the sensitivity and the temperament of the moment, but she also imparted psychologically to the unfortunate young girl the knowledge that the painful event was about to begin.

Experienced though she was in this series of preparatory maneuvers before her bottom was considered absolutely ready for punishment, Cynthia Kim could not control the sporadic tensioning of her gluteal and thigh muscles. They rippled and flexed and shuddered and the fine, pale skin was prickled as with gooseflesh. Instinctively, out of her virginal shame, Cynthia contracted her buttocks in an attempt to diminish the widening amber-shadowy cleft which separated the naked globes. .

There was a crisp, “get ready, young lady!” and with a last glance at the bared rondures,  Joyce Kim lifted her right hand in the air, poised it motionless for a moment to prolong the child’s suspense, then brought it down with a swift and merciless vehemence.

Smack1 The outline of her palm and fingers instantly registered over the plump right summit of Cynthia’s upreared, naked behind. A faint sound was heard, attesting to Cynthia having sharply sucked in her breath at the surprising shock of that first stinging spank. Her fingers tightened, the knuckles whitened and her toes flexed within her loafers. Otherwise she did not move or cry out.

Mrs. Kim waited a moment, her eyes fixed on the first tell-tale mark of that first blow of the punishment. Slowly her right hand rose again, waited a moment, flashed down on the left summit. A third spank followed, returning to the right buttock this time, on the lower summit.

The first tears pushed forth onto Cynthia’s eyelids. Jessi’s feelings of remorse began competing with growing excitement that her older sister would soon start to cry. Jessi felt a warm glow inside thinking of the forthcoming sobs and humiliating pleas and promises she would soon be hearing and observing.  

Once again Mrs. Kim’s right hand went up in the air and came down with a resounding smack on the surface of Cynthia’s right buttock.  The sounds continued at steady ten-second intervals, until the prescribed twenty smacks had been applied. True to her vow, Cynthia did not howl and screech, but, lay there, like a good girl, crying quietly until the spanking had been fully administered.

Finally, the final spank fell, leaving the lovely naked bottom a brick red, quaking with enervated torment. Mrs. Kim blew on her right hand while Cynthia continued to weep and wriggle her flaming bare seat to ease the fiery heat of the spanking. Guided by the spirit of her wise friend Emily, Cynthia bore no bitterness for her suffering. She could not quite bring herself to thank her mother for the spanking but looking back at her mother she stammered out, “I’ll be more diligent Mommy  … I promise … I’ll b … be  a g … good girl.”

Cynthia hoped that by showing such contrition, her parents might relent on the punishment she had offered to take in place of her little sister. Mr. Kim ended her uncertainty.  “You’re mother‘s not finished with you yet, girl!” he stated simply.  Cynthia tensed; fresh tears flooding her eyes. He went on to point out that Jessi’s act was more serious and therefore deserved a harsher punishment. “That figurine was expensive,” he emphasized, “and now your backside will have to pay the price. You shall receive ten with the hairbrush.”

The effect of this interchange was not lost on the younger girl. Knowing how much the hairbrush would hurt, Jessi’s feelings swung back toward sympathy. Suddenly she felt absolutely awful that Cynthia was going to get the hairbrush on her account.  She also understood why her parents had insisted that she remain.  She would be forced to confront the full consequences of her behavior by watching her older sister receive the rest of the spanking that she knew was rightfully hers. And she knew, that being older, Cynthia would get it harder and longer.

Cynthia’s concerns were much more complex.  It had taken every ounce of her will to take the hand spanking like a big girl. Now she was going to be spanked again …and much, much harder. Already in tears, Cynthia knew that she would not be able to maintain her composure; that she would scream and beg and, in general, “carry on”.  Then, instead of her parent’s respect she was afraid that she’d feel their scorn.

As she felt her mother’s arm tighten around her waist, the girl drew as deep a breath as she could muster and bit into her lower lip.  Then, as Mrs. Kim lifted the hairbrush and placed it lightly on the surface of her naked behind, the girl stiffened her entire body in anticipation, her bottom tightened, her head and legs came up.  Father and sister examined the fear on Cynthia’s face, and winced at the crisp sound and her wide‑eyed gasp when the first Smack! of the spanking landed.  The force of that first blow confirmed Cynthia’s fears that this correction would be particularly severe.  She uttered a momentary moan of despair, then caught herself and inwardly exhorted herself to “hang in” and “make them proud of you”.  She’d already come through the first one and now she would think only about the next one. 

Awaiting the next blow, Cynthia’s eyes squeezed shut and with a last nervous flurry of preparation before the assault on her flaming bottom with that wicked brush, she squirmed just a little to be closer to her mother’s body.  Joyce touched the girl’s posterior with the wood.  Slowly, she raised up her right arm, glanced down at the trembling bare bottom below, and tightening her lips, she flashed the hardened surface downward with a sharp THWACK! against the outer edge of the girl’s right hip.

“OOOOOOHHHHHH, Mommy!”  Cynthia’s voice was strained and higher pitched than usual as her hips seemed to jerk under the impact of the smooth hard wood.  Her right calf moved about then settled back alongside the left. Long spasmodic tremors rippled through her thighs and calves, and despite the discoloration of her naked bottom, through those lovely globes as well.

The third blow was lodged on the other hip and over its outer edge as well.  This time Cynthia’s bottom seemed to leap up a little, then contract, the cheeks huddling then yawning to expose for a thrilling second the shadowy grotto which lay between the young hemispheres.  There was a choked gasp from the young sufferer who was now trying to turn her head toward her mother.

Mrs. Kim wielded the hairbrush slowly and thoughtfully, allowing the full sting of each spank to spread before delivering the next.  Each crackling slap of the hairbrush was like a caress of flame across Cynthia’s burning behind, producing a vivid brilliant reddening of the tormented flesh and curiously provocative rubbings of her naked thighs. Jessi could not help being deeply affected by the deepening coloration and designs that decorated her sister’s bared buttocks.

After four solid strokes, Joyce took an especially long pause, studying in detail the flaming and twitching buttocks.  Cynthia was sobbing quite noisily now.  The parade of stinging blows was more than she could take, Mrs. Kim passing her hand across the flaming surface, pressed her fingers against the hot flesh, drawing a surprised squeal from the girl.  Then, putting both hands to the girl’s outer hips, she pulled her in towards her body.  Thus far Cynthia had successfully defended herself against any undignified screaming or begging.   But this break in the action had also broken her rhythm and given her time to consider how much of her suffering still lay ahead.

Once again the wood was laid upon the surface of Cynthia’s skin; her crying grew louder as she tried to twist her face toward her mother to implore mercy.  “Oh please … Mommy … please … not so hard … please … please … I’ll be a good girl … please  … I’ll be so good … I’ll be soooo good..”

Mrs. Kim  was not unmoved but the girls, both of them, still had a lesson to learn. Once again she raised the hairbrush and flashed it down in a quick stinging arc.  There was a loud CRACK which implanted it’s burning impact against the lower right summit of the young girl’s naked buttocks.

“OOOOWWWWWWW!!!” the girl screamed, scissoring her bare legs. hips flinging from right to left, convulsively jerking, her buttocks thrusting spasmodically.  Joyce again pulled her daughter’s body closer.  Caught up in the intense emotions that she had helped unleash, Joyce Kim had to close her eyes and draw a deep breath.  When she opened them again, she was greeted by her husband’s approving nod. Her arm rose in a high, wide arc and using a lot of wrist at impact, each stroke made a loud {Crack!} as it came down across the clenching posterior.  A piercing girlish scream came forth. Gone was any attempt at being a big girl. Jessi watched in terrified anticipation as her mother again lifted the hairbrush. 

The wood cracked down hard. The shrieks quickly melded into one, long howl as the hairbrush continued to strike the tender flesh of the girl-bottom; each landing slowly and deliberately, as was the established routine.  Each spank intensified the scalding agony left by the previous swat. 

“WAAAAAAAAA!” the girl screamed, her body jerking on her mother’s knees.  “WAAAA! OHHOWWOWW!  WAAAAGH!”

By now the soft, pink mounds had emerged a deep crimson as Mrs. Kim administered the punishment with a practiced rhythm, each swat addressing a slightly different place than the one delivered before it. The pattern soon covered the entire surface of the youngster’s exposed rear.  Cynthia’s feet had kicked wildly, her knees thumping against her mother’s lap, her hips twisting and turning in a vain attempt to avoid the next smack.  To her credit, the girl kept her hands out of the way of the spanking exploding across her suffering rear.  Cynthia knew better than to try and shield her bottom during a punishment; she had learned that lesson early in her childhood. 

“MOMMEEE!” Cynthia howled.  “I’M SORRY!  Please, PPLEEESE!”  The slim form wriggled pathetically.  “PLEASE, NO MORE!”  But the spanking was not yet over.

As Jessi watched two voices argued ferociously inside of her. One encouraged her to do something to end her older sister’s punishment; the other argued that it was not her place to intervene. ‘Mommy and Daddy know what’s best’. But the other voice countered, ‘you owe her Jessi’. The debate continued with neither side winning; and the spanking continued.

Two more blows followed; and with each, a shrill scream and a sequence of feverish jerking of bottom, legs and hips. The screams faded into waves of loud sobbing and fervent promises to be a good girl.  And with each blow and the intervening 30 seconds, the debate in Jessi’s head resumed with seemingly greater urgency.

Suddenly Jessi heard a sharp “young lady, are you not paying attention to me!” directed at her.

“I…I’m sorry Mommy … I…di…didn’t know you were talk…talking to me.”

“Well I was so you just listen up real close. You’ve just watched as I’ve spanked your sister ten times with the hairbrush. I’m sure that she feels sufficiently chastised. But before I stop, I need to hear from you whether you honestly feel that you have been sufficiently punished.”

Jessi thought her mother must be joking but the woman’s serious expression told her this was no joke. Then it hit her. Her punishment was being made to watch her sister take a spanking for what she had done. Jessi felt bad for her sister but she didn’t feel personally punished at all. Indeed no amount of spanking Cynthia would make her feel personally punished, let alone sufficiently punished. But her mother had emphasized that she wanted an honest answer.

As she contemplated her answer, she noticed that Cynthia was staring straight at her, soaked eyes pleading … desperately pleading.

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