He's got that look. You know the one where he might as well be wearing a neon sign that says, "Superiority Complex." Sure, he never got sent home from school or even a nasty note home to Mom and Dad, but he's not perfect. I ought to know, I've shared a bathroom with him all my life and he still hasn't learned to put the seat down when he's through. I'm not even going to tell you about the messes he leaves behind, cause that's just gross.
"How did you get that shirt anyway? I know I heard Dad tell you you couldn't have it," He said, gazing up and down the length of my semi-nude body. Hot blood rushed to my face as a mixture of anger and shame washed over me. My hands started to slip from their station keeping behind my head at the reflexive impulse to cover my naked sex from his eyes. He wagged his finger at me and said, "Uh-uh, keep those hands up where they belong, bad girl."
There were a few things I could have said to him. "None of your damn business," or "Go to Hell," or "Pervert!" But I thought it might be in my best interest to stay silent. It's not like he really wanted an answer to his question in the first place. He just likes the sound of his own voice, especially when he's got a captive audience and with my pants and panties around my ankles, I really don't think I'm going anywhere.
"It really doesn't matter anyway," He said waving his hand dismissively at my top. It took all my self control not to roll my eyes toward the ceiling. I'm guessing the effort must have shown on my face because his grin widened another half inch as his stare refocused on my blushing face. He said, "Hot pink is definitely your color, sis."
From the moment I was pulled out of class, I had regretted wearing the top. I knew I was playing with fire, no pun intended, when I slipped it on this morning, but I thought I could get away with it. Who knew the University was such a stickler for the dress code? Not me, that's for sure. Trouble aside, I liked the top right up until he had to go and make that awful pun. Now, I'm wishing I had never even seen the damn thing.
"So, I've got all of Dad's implements laid out," He said, nodding toward the desktop and the small table just behind me. I'd noticed them on entering Dad's office, but after fifteen minutes of less than gentle pats from his hand, I just assumed they were for show. He couldn't seriously expect to use them on me, could he? He said, "What do you figure Dad would use? The cane? You did directly disobey him when you bought that shirt. Or, maybe the big paddle, it does seem fitting since you managed to get yourself sent home from school."
Enough's enough, right? I've learned my lesson; Don't wear wild clothes to school. Time to pull my pants and panties up and go change my clothes before Mom or Dad get home and see my top. If they see me wearing it, then taking the spanking from him was for all for nothing. Well not nothing, but I'm not counting his amusement. Do you think he can tell I'm not buying his implement bluff or does he really think I'm scared?
"I'm thinking four with each of them and then you can take that shirt off and stand in the corner until Dad gets home. I'm sure while you're there you can think of something to tell him as to why you got a spanking from me," He said, obviously tickled by his own idea. Take a good look at my face and I promise you won't find any amusement there. That's right, I'm not amused. Absolutely no way I'm going to take my top off in front of him, pants and panties are bad enough. There is just no way he's going to see my boobs. I don't care what he does, what he says, it's not happening. He said, "If you think I'm being unfair, we can always call Dad."
He might be bluffing. It's possible. Not likely, but possible. Dad's let him spank me before of course, Dad was also present and supervising or maybe teaching? No, no, I don't want to consider that possibility. I'll call his bluff. Dad will be mad, but I won't have to take my top off— Oh that's not right, Dad will flip when he sees this top and he'll make me take it off anyway and my brother will still be around to watch. Damn! Double Damn!
"What should I start with?" He said, undoubtedly reading the resignation on my face. "I wonder if a paddling hurts more after a caning or if a caning hurts more after a paddling. What do you think? I guess we could check it out both ways. There are two paddles and two canes after all. Little girl paddle first?"
I really hate it when he calls me a little girl. He thinks he's so big and so mature and that gives him the right to call me, "Little." I don't think so! Alright so the whole pants and panties down, spanked bare bottom thing doesn't help my case much, but that's his fault too. You know? Oh he was talking about the paddle when he said that? Oops, well just forget what I said then okay? And give the top thing a rest too. I know he didn't make me wear it to school, but he didn't have to blackmail me over it.
"You know why Dad calls it the little girl paddle?" He asked, clearly not caring whether I did or didn't know. "He calls it that because when he paddles big girls with it, they miraculously turn into sweet little girls. I don't think four swats will be enough to do the trick, but I bet if I plant them just right, you'll cry like a little girl."
With a little effort I'm pretty sure I could wobble my lower lip and let a few tear drops fall from my eyes. I wonder if he'd think I had enough if I did that. My butt is certainly hot enough after his hand spanking and the only reason I'm not dancing around the room grabbing my blazing backside is because I thought he'd only make things worse if I acted like such a baby. Maybe I read him all wrong?
He glanced at his watch and said, "I guess we better get this over with. The guys will be here any minute and I can't have you messing up my plans for the afternoon, can I?"
We can't have tha— Wait! Did he just say, "Guys?" Coming here? He can't be serious, right? He wouldn't. He's my brother. Brother's don't do that to their sisters, do they? No of course not, he's trying to scare me. It's just another little bluff. Like I said before, he loves the sound of his own voice and the way he's going he'll never shut up and get down to the business of spanking. I'm a little torn on that one, wish he would, hope he doesn't, but please let this be over before Mom or Dad get home.
Oh my God! What was that noise?