Spanking From Three

While this can totally be read as a standalone if bro/sis is your preference, it's really part three. Part one is <a href="https://literotica.com/s/spanking-for-one" target="_blank">here</a>.

Tags/spoilers: Brother, Sister, Dominance, Submission, S/M, Spanking, Slut, Truth or Dare, Oral, Anal, Incest

All characters depicted are over 18 years of age.

Spanking from Three.

My sister seems to like being spanked.

*

Fuck my sister.

Seriously, she was so annoying.

She stood in front of me, one hand on her insolently-cocked hip, making some dubious point in some smug way, and all I wanted to do was yell at her.

But I didn't. I just turned and walked outside.

I'd been away for the past two weeks and only been back a couple of days, but if I thought I could enjoy the rest of my holidays at home in peace and quiet I should've known better. Dad had left yesterday on a work trip, leaving me in the house with Mom and Emma. It should've been fine -- it was only four weeks to go before I could head back to college -- but Emma was

such

a brat, and if anything, she seemed to have gotten worse.

It was like she was looking for a reaction or something.

Pushing

for some kind of response.

She followed me out onto the deck; I heard her behind me.

"It's one short trip. It'll take you, like, half an hour."

"It's half an hour there, and half an hour back. Then you're gonna want me to pick you up afterwards, too. That's two hours."

"It's not like you have anything else to do."

That was irritatingly close to the truth, but hardly the point. "You haven't even said 'please'." I turned to face her, "Plus, if you wanted me to say yes, maybe you could've tried being nice to me at some point since I got back home. But instead it's 'Alex, will you just...' and 'Alex, while you're up...' and 'Alex, get me a coffee'. I'm not your slave, Em, and the answer is no. Get an Uber."

She glared at me, then turned around with a sashay of her ass in those ridiculous tight shorts and flounced back into the house.

I sighed. Thing is, I probably would've agreed if she'd been even

slightly

nice to me. I'd always been fond of her and she was so damn cute. If she'd but graced me with a smile or asked nicely I probably wouldn't have been able to resist. But she hadn't. Her self-entitled, imperious attitude was grating on my nerves, and I didn't feel like spending two hours in the car merely to reinforce her views that I'd do whatever she told me to.

Fuck that shit, and fuck her.

And now I felt like a selfish bastard for not agreeing to drive her.

I sighed again, watching the evening sun reflect off the pool.

Inside, I could hear Emma complaining to Mom. I didn't even need to hear the words to know, from the tone alone, that I was being bad-mouthed. I'd just about had it with that girl.

When we'd been growing up, she'd been the cute little sister that had adored her big brother. She was eighteen months my junior; close enough in age for us to have a lot in common. She was nineteen, I'd recently turned twenty-one. And how things had changed of late.

She'd developed, for starters. Breasts. An ass. I turned around and one day where there had been my gawky little sister, there was now the most beautiful, foxiest girl I knew in real life. Hell, she was nicer than most of the girls I saw online, too. She had the perfect figure; slender and trim, with just the right amount of curves in all the right places. A few inches shorter than me, though quite often she seemed even smaller still, not least because she tended to walk around barefoot, while I did not. Bare feet made her seem more vulnerable, somehow -- that, or sexier. I couldn't decide which. But she was my little sister; 'sexier' was a word I had to keep inside my head.

It didn't help that she dressed around the house as though no one could see her. Which, I guess, was only fair. It was just me and our parents, and they never saw her as anything other than cute little Em. She had Dad wrapped around her little finger, and Mom never had a bad word against her. They certainly never seemed to pay attention when she wore the kind of stuff she was wearing, well, right now. A pair of really short shorts that showed all of her long, smooth legs. A tight, strappy tank-top that showed glimpses of her bare stomach. No bra, for fuck's sake. Like her breasts were almost fully on display. I swore I could see her areola through the thin material, her nipples almost poking through the white cotton. Did she know how she looked?

If she wore that sort of thing out of the house, she'd be called a slut. But it wasn't out of the house, and the only one who seemed to care was me.

It hadn't been like this before I'd left two weeks before, either. She'd dressed more modestly before, I was sure of it, but in the almost-three days since I'd been back it had been the same every day. Even worse, yesterday, before Dad had left. Yesterday she'd been wearing a really short, swishy skirt that barely made it down past the curve of her ass. The sort that suggested she'd be flashing everyone if she bent over even slightly, and it had been paired with a crop top that barely covered her breasts. Talk about under-boob. Dad hadn't even seemed to notice, even when she'd given him a lingering cuddle at the door. I'd had to look away, it was almost indecent.

She'd been really cut up about him going, though. He was only away for two weeks; I didn't get the tears. It wasn't like it was unusual for him, with his work.

"Alex? Could you come in here a moment?" I heard Mom call me.

Sighing, I pushed myself off the railing of the deck and headed back inside. This wasn't going to be fun.

They were standing in the kitchen. Emma still had her hands on her hips, seemingly unaware of how aggressive her body language was. Mom was leant against the counter, trying to look nonchalant, but I could tell she was awkward. There was tension in the air, which was interesting. It meant Mom hadn't fully bought in to Em's bullshit this time.

"Alex, Em says you don't want to drive her over to Milly's house this evening."

"Yep, that's right." I said, guardedly.

"Do you have other plans?" Mom asked, her tone light.

"Not particularly."

Mom nodded, as though she already knew this. "Any particular reason why you've said 'no'?"

"Well... because she didn't ask nicely." It sounded a bit lame by itself.

And she's been a complete bitch

, but I couldn't really say that.

Mom raised an eyebrow at Em. "There you are, then. Perhaps you need to treat your brother with more respect."

She pulled a face that quite clearly showed what she thought of that idea. Where was the Em that had looked up to me all those years? She sure as hell wasn't standing in this kitchen. "Can't you make him drive me? It's not like he's doing

anything

else!"

"No, I can't 'make him drive you'. It's his car, and he paid for it with his own money."

That wasn't

entirely

true; Mom and Dad had helped more than a little. But yes, I'd paid more than half, and the running costs were all mine. Mom could easily have said I owed it to Em, so long as Em paid for the fuel or something. But she hadn't. I got the impression she didn't care much for Emma's attitude, and it was that more than anything which caused her support to come down on my side for once.

Emma glared at both of us, then flounced out. Hopefully going up to her room, where I wouldn't have to see her again for a while.

Mom sighed. "That girl needs a good spanking," she said, shaking her head.

I blinked at her in surprise. We'd never been spanked; Mom and Dad didn't like the idea one little bit. I'd never heard Mom talk like that. She must've been joking.

"It's a shame her father is away for two weeks." She glanced at me, "That makes you the man of the house around here, now."

"Uh... yeah, I guess. He'll be back before you know it, Mom." I held my arms out to her. "Do you need a hug?" I probably asked a bit awkwardly. Mom wasn't the touchy-feely type. She didn't really show affection to her kids, but I just sensed that maybe she wanted to be asked. Perhaps she was missing Dad more than usual too.

She didn't hesitate, simply stepped across the room and into my arms. She pressed herself against my chest and laid her head on my shoulder, and I felt her arms come tightly around my waist. "I'm so glad you're back, Alex," she said.

I let my arms go around her gently, feeling even more awkward. I hadn't really expected her to say yes, and now we were cuddling in a way that seemed strangely intimate. She was pressed to me practically from thigh to shoulder, and I could feel her breasts pushing into my chest through the thin sun dress she was wearing. She had Em's figure, too, and she was in great shape. Any other woman pressing herself to me like this and I'd have to resist cupping her ass. That would most certainly

not

be applicable with Mom.

She pulled away only enough to look up at me, and it served to arch her back and push her hips more into me. "I don't think Emma's being at all fair to you, and I think she really needs to learn some respect."

"Well, yeah, I guess," I said, surprised she would vocalize something so evidently biased. She usually didn't get involved in our arguments.

She rested one palm against my chest. "Well, like I said, you're the man of the house now. If she's being so disrespectful, you should deal with her as you see fit."

"Thanks Mom," I said, a little unsure of what that meant. I guess it meant I didn't have to drive her anywhere.

She kissed my cheek -- another surprise -- then slipped away from me. "I'm going to go take a bath."

"Okay, Mom."

*

It had been a long day. I had intended to watch some TV, but found myself lying on the couch reading my Kindle instead. I was still processing the earlier encounters with Emma and Mom, and watching TV left my mind too much time to roam, whereas reading was more engaging. It meant I could put off dealing with the stressors, at least for a bit longer.

The summer sun had begun to dip beneath the horizon and the room was gloomy in the dusk. My Kindle was an app on my phone, lit well enough, so I hadn't yet felt a need to get up and turn the lights on. Perhaps that was why Emma hadn't realized I was sitting there in the near-dark.

I was only aware she'd crept in when my car keys jangled in the bowl beside the front door, and it took a moment for the sound to register. Then I sat up abruptly, watching her as she prepared to sneak out of the house. Presumably intending to take my car.

"Going somewhere, Emma?"

She jumped so hard it was almost funny.

"Alex! Fuck, you scared the shit out of me!"

I rose from the couch, keeping my eyes on the hand that I was pretty sure held my keys. "Off out?" I asked, my tone still casual.

"Yes. And if I don't leave right now, I'm going to be late."

"Oh? Is the Uber here?"

"Er... yes." She had one hand on the door latch.

"Well, have a nice time, then."

"Thank you," she said, opening the door.

"Oh, Emma?" I said, walking over to her.

"Yes?" she said, not quite turning.

I closed my hand around her wrist. "You won't be needing my keys, will you?"

She froze within my grip, and for a long moment said nothing. Then, "Oh, how silly of me! I must have picked up your keys by accident."

It was artfully done. If it hadn't been for the pause, the slight tremor, it might almost have convinced me. My jaw clenched as I prized my keys from her hand and dropped them back in the bowl. "I think you're lying to me," I said, keeping my grip on her wrist. Maybe she heard the coolness in my tone.

"Don't be silly, Alex. It was an honest mistake."

"Okay, fine. Let's have a little bet." We used to 'have little bets' all the time growing up. About inconsequential stuff, usually. No stakes or small stakes; just a game we played. We hadn't done it in a while. I didn't wait for her to agree. "If there's an Uber outside, waiting for you, I'll come and get you from the party this evening." I leant forward until my lips were near her ear. She still hadn't turned. "And if there isn't," I hissed, "I'm going to punish you for lying and trying to steal my car."

"

Borrow

your car!" she said, as if in reflex. Woops, busted. She realized it the same moment I did.

"Do we need to check if there's an Uber waiting, or do you want to admit there isn't?"

She seemed to slump as she closed the door that she'd only just opened. "Okay, fine. I haven't ordered it yet. So what?"

"Nice try, Em, but we both know you're lying." I pulled her back into the living room and let go of her arm. Then I reached over and slid the chain onto the latch.

"What the fuck?"

"Punishment, Em. For lying to me, and for intending to take my car without permission, you're not going tonight."

"You can't do that!"

I shrugged. "A bet's a bet, Em." I leant nonchalantly against the door, watching her. She was dressed in a short skirt again, this one at least down to mid-thigh, and a white blouse tied around her midriff. I supposed it was suitable wear for a Summer evening party. At least she had a bra on this time. Not

quite

the slutty look. In fact, it was quite chic. Surprisingly sophisticated for my little sis.

"I never agreed!"

I shrugged. "You never said no. That's the deal." And it was, too; that was how we used to play.

She took a step toward me. "Get out of the way, Alex. I'm ordering an Uber, and I'm going out."

I didn't move. "I told you, you're not going."

"Since when do you get to decide where I can and can't go, asshole?"

My jaw clenched at her tone. "First, since you lost the bet. Second, since Dad isn't here, I'm the man of the house, and I've said no. And third, because you were going to take my car."

She scoffed. "The 'man of the house'? Can you hear yourself?"

Well, okay. It

was

a bit 1950s. But Mom had said it to me, and I guess it had got stuck in my thoughts. It had just slipped out. I shrugged again to cover my consternation. "Doesn't matter. You tried to steal my car, and now you're staying here."

"Borrow," she said, sullenly.

"You know that's an admittance, don't you?"

"Yeah, whatever. But I wasn't stealing it, okay?"

I shook my head. "Enjoy a night in your room, Em."

"Fuck you, Alex!" she spat at me. "Why are you being such an asshole!" She stepped into me and, to my surprise, lifted her hand and hammered her fist into my chest. It didn't hurt that much; it was more a petulant show of frustration than a real attempt to hit me. "You're so fucking

pathetic

!" she said. "God, I wish Dad was here instead of you."

"Don't push me, Em," I warned her. There was only so much I was prepared to take, and being repeatedly sworn at, her intending to take my car, and then, to top it all off, calling me pathetic? I could feel my temper rising. Oh, and trying to hit me too, for that matter -- though that was just an excuse, it had hardly made any difference. Still, Mom was right. She was totally disrespectful.

She raised her hand, and I caught her wrist. "Get

off

me you fucking asshole!" she cried at me. For some reason, I didn't let go. I figured she'd just try and hit me again, and I didn't want that. "Get the fuck off me right now, or I'm going to call Mom!"

"I'm already here," came Mom's voice from the doorway. I hadn't heard her approach, and it was even darker in the room. Mom fixed that by flicking the light switch. "What is going on?"

"Alex won't let go of me!" Emma cried, so I did. She'd been pulling and was caught by surprise at the abrupt loss of resistance. She fell back a pace, almost falling before she caught herself in her heels.

"I caught her intending to take my car, without permission," I said. "She lied about having ordered an Uber, and I said that as a punishment, she couldn't go out tonight. Then she hit me."

Mom raised an eyebrow, looking at Emma rather than me. "Seems like you got what you deserved, then."

"He's fucking

pathetic

!" she said for the second time, and the derision in her tone was just too much.

Mom looked at me. "Are you going to accept that?"

Her earlier words came to me unbidden.

"That girl needs a good spanking,"

she'd said. I heard the echo of Emma calling me 'asshole', and 'pathetic'. Hitting me, after I'd told her fairly what her punishment was. And she'd tried to take my car.

"You know what? No. No, I'm not," I said.

I stepped forward and grasped my sister's wrist again, and she hadn't been expecting it. She wasn't quick enough to dodge. I pulled her forward to the couch and pushed her over the arm of it, her skirt riding up to frame the curve of her ass and show the backs of her thighs.

"You don't get to talk to me like that, Sis," I said, and I held her down with one hand in the small of her back. The other I raised, then brought down sharply on her ass with a

slap

.

"It's about time you treated me with some respect," I added, and landed another sharp blow.

"Ow, you asshole! Fucking get

off

me!" she cried, wrestling, but bent over the arm of the couch she didn't have the leverage to struggle. It was a simple matter to hold her with one hand; she was so much weaker than I was.

Mom, interestingly, hadn't moved or said anything. She was just watching. Her silence seemed to give me the authority to continue.

"You won't call me names again."

Smack.

"You

definitely

won't try to take my car without permission."

Smack.

"You won't try to hit me."

Smack.

Okay, that one had a slight hypocritical irony to it, but what the hell, she deserved it. "You won't lie to me, or to Mom."

Smack

. I had no reason to think she had lied to Mom but bringing her name into it seemed to bring her acceptance, too. "You'll accept your punishment,"

smack,

"and you'll sort your attitude out, too."

Smack. Smack. Smack.

I was breathing hard, my hard sore from the dozen-or-so blows. Her skirt was cotton; it wouldn't have given her much protection, and I hadn't held back, either. I hoped it had hurt. Mom was right. Emma had needed this.

Em hadn't said anything past her initial objections. She'd just lain there as I'd spanked her, probably too embarrassed that Mom was watching her get punished by her brother.

For a long moment no one said anything. I took another deep breath, looking at my sister, bent over the couch from where I'd just whaled on her ass, and felt a sudden twinge of conscience.

Fuck

, I'd just spanked my sister. What had I been thinking?

I didn't know what to say. I should say

something

-- apologize perhaps -- but the words wouldn't come. I just stood there, watching her, conscious of Mom behind me, her judgmental eyes boring into my back.

Fuck

, what would Dad say when they told him? This was bad. This was really bad.

Emma slowly pushed herself up, standing on shaky legs. Her legs were trembling I'd hit her so hard. I swallowed, preparing to apologize.

She beat me to it.

"I'm very sorry, Alex," she said quietly.

I froze in shock, my own apology dying on my lips. That was the

last

thing I'd expected her to say.

"You are absolutely right, and I deserved that," she added, her voice soft. "I'm going to go to my room, if that's okay."

She'd kept her eyes lowered the whole time. She hadn't even looked at me.

I nodded. "Yes. You do that." I said, trying to keep the surprise and uncertainty out of my voice, channeling instead the strict authority I'd heard Dad occasionally use.

She walked past me as I stepped back, watching her. She walked past Mom, who watched her too, and we both looked on in silence as Emma headed for the stairs, walked up them slowly, and turned right at the top to go to her room.