The Bargain (Chapter 2)

Fiction by Darryl and Julie
[continued from The Bargain (Chapter 1)]

After Leslie and Marie had gone home, Mrs. Wright told Julie she was going to go to bed.  She was going to begin working the first of four twelve hour shifts in a row the next day at the hospital where she worked as a nurse.  Now that the kids were adults and could be left at home unsupervised, she opted to work the long shifts in order to have three or four days off at a time.  Mr. Wright, a salesman of industrial equipment, was in the middle of a two week business trip. 

That meant, Julie reflected gleefully, that she would have a lot of time over the next four days, from Thursday to Sunday, to explore her new power over her brother.  To make it better, she asked her mother for permission to invite Leslie and Marie over for the weekend to finish off their science project, and her mother agreed.

Mrs. Wright looked in on Darryl on her way to bed.  Darryl appeared to be fast asleep, but Mrs. Wright wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  There was no mistaking the odour in Darryl's small, stuffy room.  Even after being spanked and shamed for his disgraceful lack of self control in front of Julie's friends, he had obviously masturbated before going to sleep.  He must really have a crush on one of the girls, she reflected.  He needed another lesson on respecting women, and respecting himself, but that would be for another day.  She closed the door quietly and went to bed.

About 30 minutes later, Julie also slipped into her brother's room on the way to bed.  "Hey, big brother, you awake?" she asked.  Darryl lay as still as he could, pretending to be asleep. 

Julie had previously noticed that her brother's room often had a musky smell, especially in the morning.  Not understanding the reason for it, she had simply written it off as a "nasty boy smell" that got worse as boys grew up.  Now the penny dropped and she snickered.  "I know you're awake, Darryl," she said, "and I can tell from the smell that you've been having fun in here." 

Darryl did his best to continue faking the slow breathing of a sleeping person, but the slightest catch in his breath told Julie that he was awake and had heard what she said.  She giggled.  "Okay, if you want to pretend you're sleeping, that's fine," she said.  "I'll go to bed so you can get back to pulling your little wiener. Good night."

After Julie had closed the door, Darryl groaned quietly in mortification.  He had always considered masturbation to be a deeply shameful secret.  He did it furtively, under his covers, in the dark of night, feeling ashamed even though he believed nobody had any idea he did it.  Was it possible that his secret was no secret?  Could his sister really smell when he did it?  Could his mother?  Oh God! 

He wished he could refrain from doing it, but even as ashamed as he was, his hand found its way back to that pleasurable place as he thought once again of Leslie.  Miss Leslie.  He recalled how she had come into his room and sat on his bed.  How she had pulled down first the covers then his pyjama bottoms, reminding him of their bargain, that the day's humiliation would be a secret if he was "a good, obedient boy."

The memory of those words gave him shivers of delight, as did the memories of her fingers caressing his bruised bottom…and not just his bottom.  Her fingers had caressed the underside of his scrotum too, causing him to catch his breath.  He had answered, "Yes, Miss Leslie."  Yes, he would be her good, obedient boy. 

How he wished she could have lingered longer there on his bed!  He had felt so naked and vulnerable under her eyes, under her touch, under her power.  He recalled the feeling of surprise as her fingers had trailed down the cleft of his bum and with one probing finger she had touched a part of him he had never imagined being seen or touched, revealing to him an unimagined dimension of nakedness and shame.  With that touch she had drawn from him an involuntary moan, which had made her laugh quietly, deepening his shame.

He recalled how she had patted his bum and called him a "naughty boy", before tucking him in and kissing him on the cheek, leaving him alone with his feelings of longing and devotion.  What did that kiss mean?  Did she like him, in spite of the humiliating spectacle he had made of himself, crying like a little kid?

He thought back now to the time he had tried to ask Leslie out.  He was so nervous, but he had psyched himself up to project an air of confidence, having read that women are attracted to confident men.  "Why shouldn't I be confident?" he had asked himself.   He was a second year student, and she was a frosh girl.  He had noticed she would read in a comfy chair by the window of the student lounge during a period when they both had a spare and his stupid sister and Marie were in class.  That gave him an opportunity to approach her when she was alone.

The walk across the lounge to where she was sitting had seemed so long.  Leslie looked up and saw him when he was half way to her.  In that instant he had almost lost his nerve and aborted the mission, but that would have looked ridiculous, so he had forged on.  He remembered the look of surprise and amusement on Leslie's face as he stood before her and tried awkwardly to make small talk.  Then he had just plunged in and told her the cinema club hosted films on Thursday nights, and there was a good one that week, so he thought that maybe, if she was interested, they could…

She had cut him off before he even finished the invitation, saying "I have to wash my hair that night."  Darryl felt the embarrassment of that day anew as he recalled that he had stupidly said, "That's alright, there's another good film next week, so…"

"I have to wash my hair next week too," she had said, cutting him off again. 

Darryl had psyched himself up so much to project confidence that instead of taking the hint, he had continued, "Or if Thursdays aren't good for you…"

"Darryl," she had said, cutting him off again yet again, "you have no idea how high maintenance my hair is."

"Oh, okay," he had said, finally getting it.  "No problem."  He had stood there a moment longer, wanting to ask her if she would mind not telling Julie and Marie he had tried to ask her out.

"Is there something else?" she had asked, looking amused.

"Oh, no, nothing," he had replied before beating a long retreat across the lounge like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

He knew, of course, that Leslie would tell Julie and Marie what a fool he had made of himself.  They didn't tease him as directly about it as he expected, but ever since that day it was a standing joke that whenever the girls made plans to do something when he was within earshot, one of them would say, "I have to check my agenda.  I might be washing my hair that night."  Then they would all crack up.

"Ha, ha, very funny," he would say whenever they did that, hoping they couldn't see how deeply it shamed him every time. 

And now he recalled how his mother had explained to the girls this afternoon that his erection and his lack of control probably meant he had a crush on one of the girls.  Oh God!  Oh God!

Is that why Leslie had laughed as she touched him tonight?   To mock the hopelessness of his one sided longing for her?  And yet, she had kissed him!  What did that mean?  Okay, granted, it was a kiss on the cheek, the kind of kiss a mother would give a child as she puts him to bed.  Maybe that was the message, that after what she had witnessed that day, he was like a child to her?

Yes, he could see she was out of his league, and always would be.  She communicated that clearly every time she laughed with Julie and Marie at allusions to washing hair.  And yet tonight she had shown that in some way he was important to her, when she reminded him of their bargain and told him to be a "good, obedient boy." 

According to the bargain, he had to obey all three girls because of their terrible power to shame him publicly.  He only wished Miss Leslie could know his obedience to her would be special.  He would obey his sister and Marie, and even allow them to spank him, because he felt compelled. But he would be Miss Leslie's "good, obedient boy" because he wanted to please her.

He got out of bed, sat down at his desk, and switched on his desk lamp.  Then he took paper and pen and tried to write a letter to Miss Leslie to explain his feelings.  He started three times on a letter but couldn't get it right. Then he tried his hand at poetry, stopping and starting several times. He crossed things out; then he rewrote the same things, only to cross them out again, unsatisfied with every attempt to tell Miss Leslie how he felt in a way that might make her…like him.  Sometimes he sounded too childish.  Sometimes he sounded too flowery, and he thought she might laugh.  But the more vainly he struggled to find the right words, the more intensely devoted he felt. 

As he sat, trying to think his way through an impasse, his hand strayed down to his crotch.  He caressed himself through the fabric of his pyjamas.  Then he slipped his right hand down inside his pyjamas and caressed himself.  With his left hand he pushed the front of his pyjamas down, exposing his erect penis.  He looked at it in the semi-darkness at the edge of the cone of light cast by his desk lamp.  He blushed, recalling how his sister had called it his "little wiener."  Was it really so "little", he wondered.  Did Leslie think so too?  Was it an object of laughter to her?

Strangely, the painful thought of Miss Leslie laughing at him only increased his arousal, and that arousal suddenly illuminated his way forward.  He transferred his erection from his right hand to his left, so he could take up the pen with his right hand again.  A stream of words and images gushed onto the page, a rhapsody of praise and devotion.  Finally, he worked himself to such pitch of inspired arousal that he had to put the pen down to touch himself with his right hand again.  Suddenly realizing that he had yet again reached the point of no return, for the fourth time, he snatched a wad of tissues from a box on his desk and ejaculated into it, saying Leslie's name under his breath.

When he had recovered from the orgasm, he took up the pen again.  But the words no longer flowed.  Moreover, as he reread his hymn of praise to Leslie, he felt disappointed with it.  Before his orgasm he had felt certain that his words would please Miss Leslie, but in his post-ejaculatory crash he felt ashamed and ridiculous and feared she would laugh at his words in a way that would hurt too deeply.  He dropped the wad of tissues on his desk next to his drafts, shut off his lamp, and went to bed.



The next morning neither Julie nor Darryl had early classes, but they got up early to have breakfast with Mrs. Wright before she went to work.  Mrs. Wright believed that families should eat meals together, even breakfast.

As they ate Mrs. Wright reminded Darryl how shameful it had been to cheat on a test and said she hoped he had learned a lesson.  Darryl assured her he had, trying to avoid eye contact with his gloating sister.  Mrs. Wright then picked up a sheet of paper and informed Darryl that she had written a letter to Professor Dubois.  She said she would ask Julie to deliver it to Professor Dubois, to make sure she got it, but she wanted Darryl to hear what it said.  She read it out loud:

Professor Dubois,

I want you to know how ashamed I am of my son's attempt to cheat on a test.  I also want to thank you for dealing with his misdeed in a suitably strict manner.

I applaud your determination to maintain good old fashioned standards of discipline.  We read constantly of the high failure rate of students in their post secondary studies nowadays.  Clearly, young people do not outgrow the need for strict authority and guidance as soon as they reach the age of majority.  Your students are lucky that you understand that.

I hope you will not form a permanent judgment of Darryl, or think badly of the way he has been raised, on the basis of this one incident.  It is a rule of this house that discipline at school is always backed up by even stricter discipline at home.  I gave him a bare-bottomed spanking across my knee with a paddle, under particularly embarrassing circumstances. An additional lesson I am sure he will not soon forget.

"Mom, no!"  Darryl squawked, as Julie snickered.  "You can't write that!  It will be too embarrassing for my teacher to know I got spanked. And what if she tells other people?"

"I'm afraid that cat is already out of the bag, honey," Mrs. Wright observed.  "You seem to forget that Leslie and Marie witnessed your spanking.  They are nice girls, and very mature, but I don't think you should be under any illusions that they won't talk about it."

"Actually, Mom," Julie chimed in, "Leslie and Marie and I felt sorry for Darryl, seeing how embarrassed he was, so we made an agreement with him that we will not tell anyone what happened yesterday if he promises to be nice to us from now on."

"What a lovely, mature gesture, Julie!"  Mrs. Wright gushed.  "What a wonderful sister you are to Darryl!  I hope you are grateful to your sister, Darryl.  Are you?"

"Yes, Mom," Darryl replied, as Julie kicked his leg under the table.

"But I do think," Julie said to her mom, "that you are right to let Madame Dubois know that Darryl has been properly disciplined at home.  I am sure she would not share that information with other people."

"I think you are right, Julie," Mrs. Wright said.  "But to make your brother more comfortable, I will add a postscript explaining that he is easily embarrassed and asking her to treat the contents of this letter as confidential."

"That's the perfect solution, Mom," Julie said, delighted to know the terms of their bargain wouldn't prevent Madame Dubois from finding out Darryl had been spanked.  She knew Darryl had taken the French elective for the same reason as a lot of other guys: because the prof, who wasn't much older than some of the students, was "hot". 

"Okay, that's settled then," Mrs. Wright said.  She wrote for a minute. Then she read the remainder of the letter out loud.

Thank you for calling me to inform me of my son's misdeed and his punishment. I wish all of the professors would do that when problems arise.  I should let you know that it may be difficult to reach me or my husband sometimes due to our work schedules. But if you have any other problems with Darryl, you can communicate with his sister Julie who is in first year at your college.  She is a mature and responsible girl. You will meet her when she gives you this letter.

"Mom, no!" Darryl squawked again.  "Professor Dubois can't talk to Julie about me!"

"Why not?" his mother asked.

"Because Julie's my sister!" he said.  "My younger sister!  You make it sound like Julie's my guardian or something."

"Don't be silly," Mrs. Wright said.  "It's a purely practical matter of communication to make things easier for Professor Dubois."  But Darryl could see from the smirk on Julie's face that she understood how humiliating this was going to be for him.

Mrs. Wright folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and handed it to Julie.   "Oh, and I want you to write a letter of apology to Professor Dubois yourself, Darryl," she added.  "You can do that this morning since you don't have early classes.  I'd like you to show it to your sister for approval before you go to school.  Julie has good judgment.  When she is satisfied with the letter, she can take it to give to Professor Dubois together with my mine."


After Mrs. Wright left for work, Darryl went upstairs to have a shower.  Anticipating the opportunity to exercise her power over her brother, Julie went to her bedroom to dress for the occasion.  She took off her pyjamas and looked in her underwear drawer.  Most of her panties were the modest white cotton variety favoured by people in their conservative community.  Why spend money on sexy panties when one isn't married?  But Julie had recently gone shopping for some sexy lingerie with Leslie and Marie.  Just because no man was going to see their sexy undergarments didn't mean they couldn't get pleasure wearing them in the privacy of their rooms.   It felt sexy to look sexy.  When Julie and her friends had sleepovers, they liked to model their purchases for one another.

Julie's favourite lingerie set, which she liked to wear to bed or under a housecoat when she ventured out of her room, was a set of French knickers and camisole she had got on sale at La Senza.  They were pale blue and made of a wonderfully silky fabric with lace trim.  The lace trim on the bottom edge of the panties was loose and flouncy, so as to tease any viewer with a glimpse of buttocks just above the crease of the thighs.  She put them on and looked at herself in the mirror, smiling at how sexy she looked and felt.  Sometimes she fantasized about strutting around the house in front of her brother and father like this, but she knew she would be on the receiving end of her mother's paddle if she ever tried a stunt like that.  But what better way to reinforce her power over Darryl when they were alone, she reflected.

Darryl was still in the shower when Julie padded bare foot down the hall to his room, wearing nothing but the knickers and camisole.  She entered his room and sat at on the chair at his desk, anticipating the look on his face when he saw her.  Then her eyes fell on the sheets of paper on the desk.

She picked one up and started to read.  "Oh my!" she said, stifling a laugh behind her hand, when she realized she was looking at her brother's efforts to pen his innermost feelings of "adoration" and "devotion" to Miss Leslie.  "This is gold!" she said to herself, as she quickly scanned several pages of Darryl's scrawled outpourings.  Some the most deliciously embarrassing stuff had been crossed out, undoubtedly due to inhibition.  Much of it was corny, sounding like the work of a lovesick school boy.  But there were flashes of lyricism, some of it quite erotic. 

Then she noticed the crumpled wad of tissues on the desk next to the drafts.  Could that be?  She took the tip of a corner of a tissue daintily between thumb and finger, lifted it to her face.  Ewwww!   She giggled and dropped it back on the desk.   Her brother's midnight writing session must have ended with an orgasm!  How rich!   When she noticed three similar wads of tissue on the floor next to Darryl's bed, she laughed out loud. What a busy boy her brother had been last night!

When she heard Darryl emerge from the bathroom, she turned to face the bedroom door.  Having forgotten to take his housecoat into the bathroom, Darryl came into the room carrying his pyjamas in one hand and holding a towel around his waist with the other hand.  Julie giggled at the way his mouth dropped open when he saw her.

"Don't run away!" she ordered, when he looked like he would make a dash back to the bathroom.  "Come in," she said in a seductive voice. "That's an order," she said, when he hesitated.  Darryl clutched the towel more tightly around his waist and entered the room warily. 

"You like?"  Julie asked.  She stood up and struck a sexy pose with one hand on her hip and the other behind her head.  Then she turned to show him how the panties looked from behind, swaying her hips so he could appreciate the panties' flouncy openings above the thighs. Then she turned to face him and sat back down.  "Leslie and Marie and I went shopping for lingerie recently," she explained.  "Leslie got a set just like this, except in black instead of powder blue.  The last time Leslie slept over, we both wore these in my room.  We slept in them.  You wouldn't believe how nice the silky fabric feels against the skin," she added. She ran her hands over the smooth fabric upwards from her hips to her pert breasts.  The imprints of her stiff nipples were visible through the sheer fabric. 

"I have to get dressed," Darryl said in a strangled voice.  Julie thought he looked like a frightened chipmunk mesmerized by a cat about to pounce. 

"There's no hurry for you to get dressed," Julie said.  "We don't have to leave for school until ten thirty.  But you look silly clutching that towel around your waist.  Why don't you drop it?"

"I'd rather not," Darryl replied.

"Is that how you're supposed to address me when Mom and Dad aren't here?" Julie asked sternly.

"Please, I'd rather not, Miss Julie," he said, meekly this time.

"That's better," Julie said.  "But that wasn't really a request.  I want you to drop the towel.  Now!"

Blushing, Darryl dropped the towel, but as it fell to his feet he covered his front with the pyjamas in his other hand.

"Pyjamas too!"  Julie ordered.   "And keep your hands away from our crotch!  I want to have a look at you."

She giggled as Darryl complied because he had an erection at half mast, which bobbed upwards as she looked him up and down.  "See, you do like my French knickers and camisole.  Your cute little wiener doesn't lie.  Do you suppose Madame Dubois wears French knickers like this?  I think she must, being French.  That's why I wore them to come see you about that letter of apology to her.  I thought they might inspire you."

"I'll do the letter if you go back to your room and let me get to it," Darryl said.

"The only problem is," Julie teased, "I think you would much rather write to Miss Leslie, based on these."  She now picked up the pages Darryl had been praying she hadn't noticed.

"Those are private!" Darryl cried, taking a step towards her. 

Julie stopped his advance with a raised hand.  "They aren't private now," she corrected.  "I've read them.  I bet Miss Leslie would love to read them too."

"No please, Julie, just let me tear them up," Darryl pleaded.

"Tear them up?  I wouldn't dream of it.  I think you may be a budding poet," she teased.  She then began to read choice passages out loud, gratified to see how mortified Darryl looked to hear his intimate thoughts about Miss Leslie voiced by an amused sister. 

"Please stop," Darryl pleaded.  He looked like he might actually start to cry, but Julie smirked to see that his erection was now at full mast.

"Can you explain this bit to me?" Julie asked, ignoring Darryl's plea.  "You write about 'a phantom of delight' who 'stole soundlessly into your room' and 'touched you in a way' that revealed to you 'a nakedness beyond mere nakedness'.  Oh, and a 'luminous kiss on the cheek.'  What's all that about?"

"Nothing," Darryl said.  "Just words."

"You know what I'm thinking?" Julie said. "I'm thinking Leslie snuck into your room while the rest of us were in the kitchen.  She did, didn't she?"  Darryl didn't answer, but he didn't need to.  Julie could read the answer on his face.

"And she kissed you?"  Julie pressed.  She giggled as Darryl blushed and his penis bobbed.  "She did, didn't she?  Why that sneaky—how would Madame Dubois put it?—petite saloppe!"

"Don't talk about Leslie that way!" Darryl blurted out angrily.

Darryl's outburst took both Julie and himself by surprise.  "My, my, look at you," Julie teased, "Mr. Chivalry defending his lady's honour."  She giggled, then added, "I should probably punish you for raising your voice to me, and I warn you that if you ever do it again I'll take the strop to your backside.  But I'm inclined to let this outburst slide because your attempt to be chivalrous is kind of sweet.  But don't push your luck. Am I understood, mister?"

"Yes, Miss Julie," Darryl replied.  "But could you please not show those pages to Leslie and Marie?  I'll do anything you want me to if you let me tear them up."

"Now that's an interesting offer," Julie said.  "Basically, you're trying to bribe me with something I already have.  According to our bargain, you already owe me your complete obedience, don't you?"  She paused until Darryl nodded.  "I'm glad that's understood.  So it's impertinent of you to offer me something I already have, don't you think?"

"Yes, Miss Julie.  I'm sorry."

"Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be," she warned.  "You've just earned yourself a good paddling. But first things first; you know what I find almost as interesting as these pages?"  Darryl shook his head.  "Finding this right next to them," Julie said, picking up the cum encrusted wad of tissues.  Darryl flinched.  Then his face turned scarlet.

"As I read the evidence here,"  Julie said, "you got so worked up writing about Leslie that you had to jack off.  Am I right?"  Once again, the look on Darryl's face answered her question.  "I thought so," she continued.  "Anyway, that gave me an idea for a wonderful game I can play with Leslie and Marie.  We can try to guess which line inspired Shakespeare to lay down the pen and take up the penis?  Doesn't that sound like a fun game?"

"No, please, Julie…I mean, Miss Julie.  Please!  I beg you!"   Darryl looked even closer to tears now.

"You beg me," Julie said.  "That's much better.  Begging is good.  But why are you so afraid of Miss Leslie finding out about your, um, nocturnal activities?"

"I don't want to her to hate me!"  Darryl said with a depth of feeling Julie actually found touching.

"Hate you?"  Julie asked.  "Silly boy.  Leslie wouldn't hate you for that.  She'll probably laugh at you.  And she might punish you for impertinence.  But we've all known for a while that you have a crush on her, and I'm pretty sure she already knows you jack off to the thought of her.  But if you really don't want her to know, beg me properly."

"What do you mean?"  Darryl asked.

"What's the best position for begging," Julie asked.  To her immense satisfaction, she saw that Darryl had to struggle with his pride before sinking to his knees and begging her again not to tell Miss Leslie.  He even raised and joined his hands in a gesture of supplication. She smiled, noticing the tell-tale bead of pre-ejaculate gleaming at the tip of his penis.

"That's better," she said.  "But there's more to the art of begging than that.  If you're really serious, I want you to crawl to me and kiss my feet."

Darryl looked shocked, and for a moment she thought he would refuse.  But when she lifted a foot and wiggled her toes seductively, she was thrilled as her brother put his hands on the floor and crawled towards her.  He gave the top of her foot a quick peck.

"Not like that," she corrected.  Darryl looked up at her inquiringly.  "I know you've never kissed a girl," she explained, "so let me teach you a couple of things.  A real kiss has to linger.  It is a caress with the lips.  Just imagine how it would be if you ever had the chance to kiss Miss Leslie.  Imagine how you would like to draw it out, enjoying the sensation on your lips.  That's how I want you to kiss my foot."

"That's better," she said, as Darryl gave the top of her foot a soft, lingering kiss.  "Now kiss my toes," she instructed.  As he planted five lingering kisses on the tops of her toes, she couldn't help slipping a hand between her thighs to caress her pussy lips through the silky fabric of her panties.  "That's good," she purred.  "Now the underside."  She lifted her foot higher, and Darryl kissed the underside of her toes.

"Now the other foot," she instructed.  Darryl felt humiliated beyond belief to be reduced to grovelling like this, but it excited him too.  Glancing up briefly, he was shocked to see his sister stroking the crotch of her panties with her fingertips.  He glanced up further and made eye contact with her.  She smiled wickedly and instructed him to lick the soles of her feet now. He wanted to refuse.  It felt so…dirty.  But he obeyed, noting how his sister's feet tasted vaguely of salt and sweat. 

Julie hadn't actually expected her brother to lick her feet.  She had been testing the limits of her power, so when he obeyed, a door in her mind opened to darker possibilities. By the time Julie withdrew her foot from Darryl's lips, he had begun to find this debasement so arousing that he experienced a pang of disappointment. The expression on his face was not lost on Julie.

"That's good," Julie said. "You're good at begging.  So good that I'm very close to granting the favour you ask.  But how else could you demonstrate your…humility?"  She thought for moment. Then smiled wickedly.  "I know," she said.  She got up and turned around. Then she arched her back to push her bottom out and wiggled it provocatively in front of her brother's face.  "I think you know what to do," she said.

"Go on, I'm waiting," she said when Darryl didn't move. "I know you want to."

She was right.  Part of Darryl did want to obey her unspoken command, but it seemed so wrong.  "Please don't make me do that, Miss Julie," he said.  "It's not right.  You're my sister."

"You're also my slave!" she snapped.

The word "slave" hit Darryl like a slap on the face, and Julie herself felt momentarily shocked at what she had said.  When Darryl still didn't move, she turned towards him and looked down.  "I'm sorry at the way that sounded, Darryl," she said gently, mussing his hair.   "But if you think of it, you are a slave to me and my friends now, aren't you?  You have promised to do anything we tell you to do.  You agreed to the term 'anything'.  Doesn't that make you a slave, in a way?  My slave and Miss Marie's and Miss Leslie's?"

Darryl nodded.  Somehow the inclusion of Miss Leslie made it seem more acceptable.

"Alright.  Now, you know what to do," she said, turning around and offering him her bottom to kiss with a tantalizing wiggle.  "If it helps, you can pretend I'm Miss Leslie.  Start here."  She reached back and touched her right buttock, showing Darryl where to kiss.

She felt a thrill of excitement and power as Darryl leaned forward and touched his lips tentatively to the spot she had indicated.  "That's it. Soft and lingering," she coaxed.  "Mmm, good.  Doesn't the material of these panties feel wonderful under your lips?"  She noted how wonderful the silky fabric felt under her own fingers as she traced the outline of her engorged and sensitive pussy lips.

The silky fabric under his lips did feel wonderful to Darryl, not to mention the lovely firmness of the flesh under it and the lovely curvature of his sister's hip which made up his entire horizon from this perspective.  But it felt terribly wrong to be doing something to his sister that aroused him so.  Then he thought of Miss Leslie and imagined that it would be very much the same to kiss her this way. 

"The other side now," Julie said, her voice now husky with arousal.  Darryl obediently shifted his attention to the other buttock. Julie closed her eyes and parted her lips in a silent sigh of contentment, amazed at her own arousal.  Was it possible she had erotic feelings for her brother? 

She reflected that it has always excited her to see her brother get spanked, especially when their mother bared his bum for it. Did that mean she had sexual feelings for her brother?  Ewww, no!  That would be gross! In fact, even if Darryl wasn't her brother, he wouldn't have been her type. She preferred manlier guys, guys who were built and had a bit of macho swagger. Mind you, she did enjoy the power she had over shy, geeky guys like her brother. It turned her on a bit the way guys like that would look away guiltily and blush when caught casting furtive glances of hopeless longing her way, the way her brother often did with Leslie.

There had always been intense sibling rivalry between Julie and her brother.  That greatly augmented her excitement whenever he got spanked by their mother, she realized. That's why she had also masturbated herself that night, replaying the humiliation of her brother in front of her friends, recalling the exhilaration of spanking him herself, and looking forward to doing it again. And now her erstwhile rival was kissing her ass!  Literally! What sister wouldn't get wet panties from putting an annoying brother in his place once and for all? 

"Now here," Julie said, touching the spot were the lacy trim of the panties met her skin near the right hip.  She smiled contentedly when Darryl softly kissed the lace trim near her hip. She reached back and lifted the lacy hem of her panties, exposing to Darryl's view, and to his lips, the bare skin just where the swell of the buttock begins.  The sensation of Darryl's lips caressing her bare skin excited her like an electric jolt.

"That's it," she urged.  "Now slowly work your way inward."  She slipped her fingers under the loose fringe of her panties at the front now, while her brother kissed a line under the edge of her panties at the back.  By this point, Darryl himself would have found it hard to stop, even if Julie let him.  He had an overwhelming desire to touch his fully engorged penis, but he held back.  Touching himself had already increased his sister's power over him, so there was no way he would do that in her presence.  Besides, it felt terribly wrong to be aroused at all by contact with a sister.  He tried to imagine that his sister was Miss Leslie, but he couldn't completely banish the feeling of wrongness.

Dear Reader, lest you judge Darryl for falling under a sister's erotic spell, you need to consider his circumstances.  This story takes place before the age of the Internet.  Nowadays easy access to Internet porn has rendered young men jaded when it comes to the mysteries of the female body.  The closest thing to porn Darryl had experienced in his nineteen years was a Playboy magazine he once snuck into the house.  His enjoyment of the magazine had been cut short when his mother found it after only two days.  She had given him such a fierce rebuke for disrespecting women and paddled him so soundly that he never again dared to bring "smut" into the house.  After that he was forced back to his main source of erotic stimulation, the ladies undergarment section of the Sears catalogue.

Imagine then the erotic jolt when Darryl saw his pretty sister—who, although a year younger than he, was in the full bloom of feminine sexuality—dressed in her French knickers and camisole.  Keep in mind, as well, that his sister's body had never been exposed to his eyes the way his had to hers.  When it came to spankings, there was a double standard in the Wright home.  Not only did their mother not spank Julie often, and had not for years now, but even on those rare occasions when she did in the past, it was in the privacy of Julie's bedroom out of consideration for feminine modesty.

Imagine furthermore the sensory overload as Darryl, following a command he found himself unable to disobey, traced a line of kisses just under the lacy fringe of his sister's knickers towards the very core of her womanhood.  He had vaguely imagined the smoothness of a woman's skin and daydreamed of the alluring swell of pert female buttocks, but he was totally unprepared for the scent of aroused womanhood that seemed to fill his head so completely that thought itself was crowed out.  Julie had not showered yet that day, and having been aroused almost continuously since hearing her brother had been strapped by Madame Dubois the day before, the richness of her scent cast a powerful spell.

When Darryl had kissed his way excitingly close to her sex, Julie reached a hand around and pushed his face away with a hand on the forehead.  "Now don't be naughty," she scolded teasingly, "that's forbidden territory."  She then guided Darryl's head to the left.  "Other side now," she commanded.

Julie herself was by now under a spell of her own making.  As she worked her clit with her fingers, she luxuriated in the sensation of Darryl's caressing lips and replayed images of his humiliation the day before.  When Darryl was once again tantalizingly close to the inner sanctum, she reached back and pushed his face away again. "Just the butt, naughty boy," she scolded.  "Kiss the middle now," she instructed.

The middle?  Darryl reflected.  The middle of her butt?  She couldn't possibly mean for him to kiss her butt crack, could she?   Annoyed by Darryl's hesitation, Julie removed any doubt.  "Start here," she instructed, pointing to the spot where the lacy upper fringe of her panties gave way to skin at the tailbone, "and work your way down.  Slowly."

"Now!" she commanded impatiently when Darryl still hesitated.  Scarcely believing he was actually obeying, Darryl leaned forward and kissed her tailbone at the lacy fringe of her panties. When he lingered a little too long, wondering whether he could really bring himself to kiss her butt crack, even through the barrier of panties, Julie impatiently repeated her order to kiss his way downwards.  So he did.

Through the loose silky fabric, Darryl could feel with his lips the cleft of Julie's bum almost as distinctly as he would have had she been naked.  He remembered how Leslie had trailed her fingers down the cleft of his bum the night before and made him moan as she probed his most shamefully secret spot with a finger.  And now he was kissing his sister there.  It had made him feel deeply submissive to be touched there by Leslie's fingers, and it made him feel even more submissive to be kissing his sister there.

Julie herself was in thrall to new and exciting sensations now.  Her initial intent in ordering Darryl to kiss her ass was to demonstrate her power in a humiliating way, but the pure sensuality of having her butt crack kissed and caressed by lips through silky panties overwhelmed her now. She arched her back more, pushing her bottom against Darryl's face, opening her cleft a bit wider.  "Deeper," she growled.  "Kiss deeper!"  Sensing that she was approaching climax as her fingers worked her clit, she reached around with her other hand and pushed Darryl's face deeper into her butt crack with a hand behind his head. 

"French kiss my French knickers," she commanded.  "Use your tongue," she added impatiently when Darryl didn't do it immediately.  Darryl was now kissing the very spot Leslie's finger had briefly probed on him.  This already felt so dirty. He understood that a "French kiss" was a kiss with the tongue, but she couldn't possibly expect him to do that, could she?  Her added instruction clarified that.  He closed his eyes tight, as though that would somehow reduce the shamefulness of the act, then tentatively pushed against the fabric of the panties with the tip of his tongue.  And then he was actually doing it.  He could feel the puckered orifice through the sheer fabric with his tongue.

Julie almost swooned at the sudden sensation of a tongue pushing the silky fabric of her panties against her butthole, and she felt drunk on power.  "Deeper!" she commanded greedily, as her fingers speeded up on her clit and she felt an orgasm mounting.  "Kiss deeper!"

Suddenly released from inhibition, Darryl threw himself wholeheartedly into this act of self abasement.  He pushed his tongue hard against the fabric and felt his sister's tight little rosebud flutter against his tongue, like some exotic sea creature that might open suddenly to swallow its prey.  Julie cried out as an orgasm washed over her, and was amazed when, before the first orgasmic wave had receded, there came another, then another. 

When she was finally sated, she pushed Darryl's face away gruffly and stood up straight.  Darryl had resisted the temptation to touch himself, so when Julie turned looked down at him, his cock was fully erect and a silvery thread of pre-ejaculate hung from the tip of it.  In her post-orgasmic glow, Julie suddenly felt kindly disposed to her brother.  He looked like he was drugged or in a trance.

She crouched in front of him so as to look him levelly in the eyes.  "Poor baby," she soothed.  "What has naughty Julie done to you?"  When Darryl looked down in shame, she said, "I've got a gift for you, naughty boy."  She lifted the hand with which she had masturbated to Darryl's face and wiped her two wet, fragrant fingers under his nose. 

"Did you think about Miss Leslie while you did that?" she asked.  She smiled benevolently when he nodded his head.  "Here," she said, touching her fingers to his lips.  "Open up.  Taste my fingers, and you can imagine how Miss Leslie might taste."   She smiled as he sucked on her fingers.

"There, wasn't that nice?" she added, withdrawing her fingers.  "Shall I give you some advice to help you with Miss Leslie?" she asked.  He nodded his head.  "You know she's out of your league, don't you?" she asked in a kindly tone.  Darryl nodded his head sadly. "But who knows," she added, "maybe you have a chance with her."

"You think so?" Darryl asked hopefully, looking at her, scarcely believing she could be so nice.

"I don't know.  Maybe," Julie said caressing his chest with her hand.  "Stranger things have happened."  Darryl shivered under her touch.  "But my advice is to hit the gym to do weights whenever you can.  Most women prefer muscular men.  So you should try to build yourself up, here [touching his chest] and here [squeezing a bicep].  Will you do that?" Darryl nodded enthusiastically. 

"Good boy," she said.  Then unable to resist the temptation to be a little cruel, she added, "There's nothing you can do about the size of this," she said flicking at his penis, "but you can work on the rest of your body."  The stricken look on Darryl's face gave her a pang of guilt, so she soothed, "Don't feel bad, big brother.  I'm teasing you.  It's not that small.  And besides, you have other assets.  You want to know something nice Miss Leslie said about you?"

Darryl nodded and looked at Julie with a hopefulness she found touching.

"She said you have a cute little butt that cries out to be spanked.  She also thinks it's hot how easily you cry.  She said it's cute how shy and sensitive you are, almost like a girl," she added. 

"I'm not like a girl!" Darryl protested, blushing.  He had trouble sorting out his confused feelings. On the one hand, it stung his masculine pride terribly to know his dream girl had compared him to a girl. On the other hand, he welcomed any praise from Leslie, so the words "hot" and "cute" encouraged him, even in a context that made him feel shamefully inadequate as a man.

Julie giggled at her brother's reaction.  "It's okay," she soothed, "you may not be the kind of manly guy a woman like Miss Leslie would have for a real boyfriend, but if you are a good obedient boy for her — I mean for us — maybe she will touch you here some day."  With that, she softly stroked the underside of Darryl's penis with his fingers, delighted to see the way his eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped, and he inhaled sharply.

"Does that feel nice?" Julie whispered. 

Once again, Darryl was wracked with turbulently contradictory feelings.   He thought he should tell Julie to stop, that sisters shouldn't touch brothers this way, but his body told him otherwise. He tried to imagine that it was Miss Leslie touching him.  "Yes," he answered breathlessly.

"Well, be a good, obedient boy then for all three of us," Julie murmured, continuing to stroke him, "and if you are very very lucky boy, perhaps someday Miss Leslie will deign to touch you this way."  Darryl moaned and shivered.

"That is if she doesn't have to wash her hair," Julie teased. That taunt pushed Darryl over the edge.  He cried out and shot a copious, rope-like load of sperm across the carpet.

"Well, that was quick," Julie said with a giggle. "We may have to do something about that little hair trigger penis of yours."  Then looking at the sperm splattered across the carpet and now running down Darryl's penis onto her fingers, she observed, "But who would have thought a naughty little boy could produce so much sperm?"

Julie was surprised not to feel more grossed out to have ejaculate on her fingers.  In fact, she found the sensation interesting, but she thought it best to shame her brother by acting grossed out.  "Ewwww," she squealed, holding her hand up to Darryl's face, "look what you've done, naughty boy!"

"I'm sorry!" Darryl said, looking mortified.

"You should be sorry!" Julie scolded.  "Here, you can just lick it off."  She smeared the cum on her fingers across his brother's lips.  He instinctively closed his mouth, looking grossed out.  But when Julie ordered him to open his mouth to her fingers and suck them clean, he did as he was told.

Julie got up now and sat in the chair.  It gave her satisfaction to see that her brother knew to remain on his knees in front of her until instructed otherwise.  She reached across the desk, pulled several tissues from a box there, and handed them to her brother.  "Clean up your mess," she ordered.  "You can use these for now, but I'll expect you to wash the carpet with warm, soapy water later.  Understood?"

"Yes, Miss Julie," Darryl replied.  Julie watched in fascination as her brother wiped first his penis, then the cum shots on the carpet.  She spread her legs so he could crawl forward and wipe up the cum that had shot all the way under the chair.  When he had finished he raised his head and realized his face was inches from his sister's crotch.  The teasing looseness of the French knickers drew his eyes like a magnet.

"Don't look at me like that!" Julie scolded.

"I'm sorry!" Darryl spluttered, sitting back hastily on his haunches and looking away.

"I'm going to have to spank you longer and harder for that," Julie said.  Satisfied when her brother didn't object, she continued. "I was going to paddle your bum before school, but I think I'll save your spanking until we get home.  That way we will both have something to look forward to when we get home.  Will you be looking forward to our spanking?"

"No, Miss Julie," Darryl replied.

"No?" Julie asked with a mock pout.  "I thought you would like to be paddled by Miss Julie.  Is it because you're afraid how much it will hurt to be paddled two days in a row?"

"Yes, Miss Julie," Darryl replied.  "Please don't paddle me two days in a row."

"You can't beg your way out of this, young man," she said.  "I am going to grant you the other favour you asked.  I won't play guess where Shakespeare jerked off Miss Julie and Miss Marie the way I was going to.  At least not today."  She put the drafts on his desk in a neat pile, placed the cum encrusted tissues on top, and rolled the pages up with the tissue in side. "I will hold onto these, but they will be our little secret for now.  Does that make you happy?" 

Darryl nodded, grateful for that mercy.

"Good," Julie said. "But you won't be talking or begging your way out of a good paddling after school.  I'm glad you're afraid.  You should be afraid.  Spankings are supposed to hurt."  She paused, giving him a moment to respond.  When he only bowed his head in submission, she burst out laughing.

"What is it?"  Darryl asked, looking up at her.  "Why are you laughing?"

"You poor baby!" Julie said.  "I haven't told you yet, but Miss Leslie and Miss Marie are going to be spending the entire weekend here while Mom is working twelve hour shifts.  And I'm afraid that spanking is at the top of their to-do lists!"  Amused by Darryl's look of alarm, she continued.  "Marie is going to bring the hairbrush her mother used to use on her before she outgrew spanking."  She paused to let Darryl appreciate the humiliating implication that the girls who would be spanking him had outgrown spankings themselves.  Then she asked, "Won't that be exciting to be spanked by Miss Marie with a hairbrush that was once used on her own bum?" she asked.

Darryl didn't reply, but a telltale blush told Julie that he was indeed excited by the idea.  She supposed her brother may be picturing, as she was, Marie's plumb, shapely bum being smacked with a hairbrush.  "And as for Miss Leslie, I'll simply remind you that she finds it 'hot' when you cry, sooo..."  She paused to let him complete the thought himself.  Darryl looked frightened, but Julie noticed that his penis, that had gone limp after his orgasm, was miraculously stirring to life again.

"I'm really looking forward to the weekend," Julie said.  "It's going to be fun.  But I'm looking forward to having you all to myself after school today.  It's going to be just you, me, and Mom's paddle."

As frightened as Darryl was of that prospect, he found himself getting aroused again. For some reason the knowledge that his sister would get pleasure out of hurting him was exciting.

"Now, let's get down to the business I came here for," Julie said. "You have to write a letter of apology to Madame Dubois, and I want you to complete it this morning, so that I can give it her this afternoon."

"Yes, Miss Julie.  I'll do it now."  Darryl blushed anew, recalling that his mother's letter would reveal to his professor that he had been spanked.

"Good boy," Julie said.  "But before you begin, there's something I want you to tell me.  Why did you try to cheat, knowing that cheating is an automatic strapping offence in Madame Dubois' class?"

"It was because I lost the list of words on this week's vocabulary quiz," he explained.  "I would have done badly on the quiz because I was unable to study for it."

"That still doesn't make sense," Julie observed.

"Why not?" Darryl asked, perplexed.

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong," Julie said, "but do you not have about 95 percent in that class?"  Darryl nodded.  "I thought so," Julie said.  "In fact, some of your classmates told me yesterday that the most interesting thing about you getting the strap was that you are the teacher's pet."  Darryl blushed at the term, but he couldn't object.  "And, as I understand it," Julie continued, "the total value of all the weekly vocabulary tests is only ten percent.  Is that right?"  Darryl nodded, beginning to look uncomfortable under this cross examination.  "So that means that even had you failed that one quiz, it would have had little effect on your very high mark in the course.  Right?" 

Darryl nodded.

"Okay, so this is what I think," Julie said.  "I think you took a pointless risk because, whether consciously or unconsciously, you wanted to be punished by Madame Dubois."

"That's ridiculous!"  Darryl objected with a flushed face.

"Oh, is it?"  Julie asked.  "Then why would you take such a stupid risk?"

Darryl looked sheepishly at Julie for a moment.  Then he tried to explain.  "I had a perfect record on those vocabulary quizzes until now, and Madame always made a big deal about my perfect scores and told the other students that they should study the way I do.  I didn't want to disappoint Madame."

"Oh my God," Julie blurted out, "that is so sweet!  The teacher's pet didn't want to disappoint his teacher!"  Julie clapped her hands together and giggled.  "And that explains why you cried when she gave you the strap.  It didn't hurt that much, but you cried because Madame was angry at you."

"I didn't cry!" Darryl whined.

Julie rolled her eyes at her brother's desire to appear manly even now, and continued.  "Okay, so you got all teary eyed when she strapped you because you felt so bad about disappointing her.  That's good.  I want your letter of apology to Madame Dubois to explain that.  I want you to tell her how much her esteem means to you.  Got it?"

Darryl nodded.  He had already been thinking of writing something to that effect.

"Good.  And there's one more thing I want your letter to say."  Darryl looked at her warily, and she continued.  "Madame will already find out from Mom's letter that you got spanked at home."  She paused to savour Darryl's blush, then continued. "I want you tell Madame that your Mom was so angry she paddled your bare behind right in front of your sister and her friends."

"I can't write that!" Darryl squawked. "What reason could I possibly have for telling her that?  It will look like…like…"

"Like you want her to know?"  Julie teased.  "Well, don't you?  Be honest: don't you want her to know?"  Darryl's only response was a deeper blush. "Don't think I haven't noticed that spankings always give you a stiffy," Julie observed.  "And that's been getting worse now that you're an 'adult'."  She enclosed the word 'adult' in air quotes.

"Good," Julie continued, when Darryl had no response.  "You'll work it into your letter like this: you want Madame to know that because she gave you the strap, you got the most embarrassing spanking of your life at home.  That's your reason for telling her you got it on the bare in front of me and my friends.  But you can show her how penitent you are by explaining that the humiliation you endured for cheating is less distressing to you than the knowledge that you have disappointed her and squandered her trust in you.  Got it?"

Darryl looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. 

"Oh, one more thing," Julie said, "I think it would impress Madame Dubois if you write the letter in French.  Don't you think that's a good idea?"

Darryl nodded.  "I was already thinking about that."

"Good.  That will be good," Julie mused, "the French teacher's pet trying to impress her by writing the letter in French.  Do you know how to say 'spanking' in French?" she asked.

"Une fessée," Darryl replied.

"Une fessée!" Julie exclaimed.  "Great word!  And why doesn't it surprise me that you already know it?"  She thought a bit more.  Then she added, "I have one more idea."

"What else?" Darryl asked in a tone of utter resignation.

"Fessée is definitely a feminine word?" Julie asked.  Darryl nodded.  "Good," Julie continued, "I want you to make a little grammatical error in your letter.  I want you to make that word masculine. Write 'un fessé'."

"Why would I make an intentional mistake?" Darryl asked.

"So that Madame will have a reason to talk to you about your embarrassing 'fessée', to  correct your grammar!"  Julie giggled, pleased at her cleverness.

Julie stood up, mussed Darryl's hair, and said, "I'll leave you to it then, Shakespeare.  Or should I say Moliere?  I'm going to get washed and dressed now.  Bring the letter to me for approval when you've finished.  And remain naked until I've approved it.  Understood?"  Darryl nodded.

"Now close your eyes and I'll give you a gift to inspire your writing," she said.  "Go on, close your eyes," she insisted when Darryl looked at her warily.  "Good," she said when he had closed his eyes, "and don't you dare open them until I give you permission."

When Darryl had closed his eyes, Julie pushed her panties down her legs and stepped out of them.  "Don't you dare peek!" she warned.  "Now hold out your hands for the gift."  As Darryl knelt with his hands extended, she brushed the panties softly over his face, and then put them in his hands.  "There, you can hold on to my French knickers to help inspire a nice letter to your French teacher," she teased.  Even though Darryl's eyes were closed tightly, the look on his face made her giggle.

"Would you like my top too?" she asked.  Darryl nodded, looking very much like a dog on its haunches begging for a treat.  "Alright, but don't you dare peek or I'll wear out the strop on your butt," she warned. Then she removed her top.  Seeing that her brother's penis was amazingly erect again, she stooped and draped her camisole over his penis.

Julie felt deliciously naughty and liberated to be standing naked in front of her brother in his room.  She smiled to see his eyes so tightly shut that he was practically grimacing from the exertion of not peeking.

"I'm completely bare naked now. I bet you would like permission to open your eyes now, wouldn't you?" she asked. When he nodded, she said, "Well ask nicely then."

"Please, Miss Julie, may I open my eyes?" he asked.

She would have been disappointed had he not asked for permission to see her naked, but now that he had, she said, "No, you may not."  She remembered that Darryl had written then crossed out the word "goddess" on one of the pages addressed to Leslie.  That gave her some literary inspiration of her own.  "It never ends well when mere mortals gaze upon the nakedness of a goddess," she intoned. 

She tapped Darryl on the nose with the rolled up papers in her hand.  "I'll hold on to last night's literary efforts for now," she said.  "I want to reread them, but I won't show them to Miss Leslie for now or tell her how naughty you were when you wrote them," she added, "at least not today."

"Thank you, Miss Julie," Darryl said.

"How could I deny you a favour for which you have so nicely begged?" she asked.  "And besides, it's good for you and I to have some secrets between us.  I expect you to be a good and obedient boy to my friends as well as to me, but there is a special bond between a brother and a sister, don't you think?"  As she said that, she stepped close to him, and with a hand in his hair, she drew his face close enough to her pelvis that he could feel her pubic hair brush his nose and lips and fall once again under the enchantment of her scent.

For some reason, Darryl had never thought of his sister having pubic hair.  He recalled that in the Playboy magazine he had once seen, a couple of the women had smooth, hairless pubic mounds, but others had pubic hair.  The lack of pubic hair made the women look more girlish, he had decided, whereas the pubic hair made them look like mature women who would look down upon and laugh at the "boys" of whatever age who would look at them with hopeless longing. He had always thought of his sister as "a girl," but the knowledge that she had pubic hair made her seem suddenly more grown up than he was.

"You aren't peeking are you?" Julie asked, as she rubbed her pubic hair back on forth across Darryl's face.

"No, Miss Julie!" 

She pulled his head back by the hair so as to scrutinize his face.  His eyes were still squeezed shut with comically exaggerated tightness.  "Good," she said.  His obedience gave her satisfaction, but she was a little disappointed that he had been able to resist the temptation to open his eyes.  Oh well, she would be able to take that annoyance out on him when she spanked him after school.

She let go of his hair and swept past him abruptly. She stopped at the bedroom door and turned around to look back at him, still on his knees with his back to her.  "You may open your eyes," she said, "but don't turn around right away.  Don't forget to wash the carpet where you splooged. Oh, and you might want to open a window to air out your room.  It reeks of horny billy goat."  Then she was gone.

[continued in The Bargain (Chapter 3)]