My wife brought the subject up, as I was sitting in my armchair hoping to watch T.V. on a Monday night. I had worked a hard shift down at the factory and had also got soaked on the way home. In spite of that, I was looking forward to a top F.A. Cup replay that was kicking off shortly. However, my wife was in no mood to let sport take precedence over her need to air her concerns. So, I left the remote alone and gave her my full attention. I had been married long enough to heed the warning signs.
The subject of our discussion, as always, was her young sister. You see, Harriet, my wife, at 27 was a good 8 years older than young Molly, who she thoroughly disapproved of.
Harriet's parents had thought that they had finished having children when they had older brother Bob and then Harriet. And, years later, having another baby daughter was unplanned and a bit of an embarrassment for them. However, Harriet, was always bitching about the girl. The circumstances being, that Molly had been unable to get a job in the run down pit village where she had been brought up in the family home, and so, at her mother's insistence, she had come to live with us in Nottingham. I think my wife resented Molly, firstly for being born, and, secondly, for having to make room for her in our home.
Molly was 19 now, growing up fast and turning into a very attractive young lady. She was developing curves in all the right places and had a pair of legs that I had trouble keeping my eyes away from. I didn't think she was particularly badly behaved either, but, that was just my opinion and when it came to family matters like that, my opinion didn't count. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept out of it as much as possible. Harriet could be a bit of a dragon, so, it was just as well to keep one's mouth shut. That was my experience anyway. Harriet had a down on her and nothing the kid could do was right in her eyes. As far as Harriet was concerned, Molly was lazy, irresponsible, selfish, rude and cheeky. And that was just for starters. Anyway, around about that time Molly seemed to go through a bad patch in terms of keeping on the right side of her elder sister and my instincts told me that it was all building up to something. As it turned out, I was right.
The previous night, Molly came home late from the cinema, where she had been with her friends from work. (Molly worked as a shop assistant at a large department store in the town.) Well, when I say she was late. It must have been no more than 40 minutes, but, that was more than enough for Harriet to get worked up about it. For her, it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
"Something has to be done about her," fumed my wife. "She's getting away with things too easily...She has to be punished."
"What do you mean?" I said putting down the newspaper and looking up at her.
"Well, when I was a little girl, Daddy used to spank me when I misbehaved. Bob got plenty of it too. He made sure we were punished regularly, so we knew how to behave. He was a great believer in corporal punishment and in upholding family discipline. Even poor Mum got it when she stepped out of line or displeased him. We used to lie awake listening to her screams of torment. I tell you he was a right devil with that strap, our Dad.
So, Joe, I am giving you Daddy's old strap which I retrieved from the old house. And I expect you, as the man of the house, to use it regularly on my little brat of a sister."
And that's how it started.
First thing I did when Harriet left the room was to examine that strap and have a little practise swishing it about. No doubt that a man could do some damage to a sweet girl's behind with a thing like that. The idea of unleashing it on poor Molly's posterior greatly appealed to me. I couldn't wait to start. It was bringing out the beast in me.
And, to make it easier for me, Harriet gave Molly such a tongue lashing that the poor girl was probably glad to give herself over to me to deal with. It was being laid out on a plate for me. All I had to do was flay her with that strap.
Friday night became punishment night for poor Molly and typically of Harriet, she cleared off to her needlework upstairs and left me to do the dirty work.
Soon after 7.00 p.m. there was a little tentative knock on the lounge door.
"Did you want to see me, Mr. Fisher?" asked Molly, apprehensively. I could tell she was worried, because, she usually called me Joe.
"Yeah, come in then Molly," I said, gruffly, not wanting to appear too soft with her. "And close the door, please."
Both of us were a little awkward and embarrassed, until I reminded myself that I had the upper hand here.
She was wearing a white blouse and a tight grey skirt past her knees and straightaway I was wondering how on earth she was going to be able to bend over in it, when she solved the problem for me.
"Shall I take my skirt off?" She asked, red in the face and flustered.
I blew out my cheeks and quickly considered this. Luckily, Harriet wasn't around to advise me so...
"Yes, that's a good idea."
She unzipped the skirt and I gasped as I watched it fall around her ankles. In those days, even teenage girls wore stockings and suspenders and all that was on display at that moment, emphasising, what a superb pair of legs she had.
Almost immediately, I felt my cock stir. Suddenly, I realised that I was actually going to enjoy these little punishment sessions.
Harriet had even placed the low back armchair in the centre of the room, so I gestured for Molly to bend over it. When she did so, I spent a long time looking at her pert, panty clad backside and nylon stockinged legs. Eventually, Molly gave a nervous little cough and I re-focused on the task in hand. Then, strap in hand, I lashed down on my target inducing a painful whelp from Molly and a twitch of her bum.
Excited now, I gave her another lash before enjoying the splendid view of a young woman bending over so provocatively. I drooled at the shapely bare thighs on display at the tops her nylons. Wow!
I took aim and lashed her again bringing forth another shriek. How I would have loved to have a peak at her bare bum at that moment, wondering how red it was. Inexplicably, my hand reached out, smoothing sympathetically, over that lovely part of her.
"Ahem" she coughed, no doubt anxious for me to get on and finish her punishment. But, right then I was more interested in feeling her up than carrying out Harriet's bidding.
"You'll have to do this properly Joe," whispered Molly's sweet little voice, "otherwise, Harriet won't be pleased... And I'd rather you did this than her."
So, I lashed her twice in fairly quick succession making her squeal loudly each time.
I hope you're satisfied, I thought, looking up meaningfully at the ceiling and knowing that Harriet would be up in our bedroom listening for the tell-tale signs of Molly's ordeal.
Molly was red faced and flustered now from her punishment so far and I had a definite hard-on. I had lost count. So, I asked her, "how many is that?"
"You're up to 4," she said, wincing.
"Another two then," I told her. "Push your bum up, higher."
