One evening, both my parents had to work late, leaving me in the care of my older sister, Rebeca, who was only four years my senior but always seemed so much more grown-up. The house felt different without the steady presence of my parents—quieter, but also filled with a sense of anticipation. Rebeca, with her serious face and responsible air, took her duties very seriously, and I could tell she was determined to do everything just as Mother would have wanted.
Early in the evening, I slipped out to play with my friends, promising Rebeca I would return before dusk. The games in the street were so absorbing that I lost all sense of time, the laughter and shouts echoing off the houses as the sun dipped lower. When I finally remembered my promise and hurried home, I was nearly an hour late. My heart pounded as I crept up the path, dreading the look I knew I would find on Rebeca’s face.
Rebeca was waiting for me in the hallway, arms folded and eyes narrowed. Her voice was sharp with disappointment as she scolded me: ‘I told you to be home in good time, didn’t I? I’ll tell Mother all about this when she gets home and you’ll see what she has to say about it in the morning!’ The threat hung in the air, heavy and certain, and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.
Well, I knew for sure that would mean a sore bottom. ‘Please, Rebeca!’ I begged, my voice trembling, ‘please don’t tell Mother. I’ll do anything you want!’ I could see her considering my plea, her lips pressed together in a thin line as she weighed her options. The kitchen clock ticked loudly in the silence, each second stretching my anxiety.
My sister looked at me silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she spoke: ‘OK, I won’t tell Mother – but I have to spank you myself.’ My protest died on my lips as she raised a hand to stop me. ‘Your choice, Manuel! I’d say you are going to have a sore bottom one way or another.’ The finality in her tone left no room for argument, and I realised there was no escape from punishment.
I went quiet for a moment as I weighed up my choices. There was no question that my mother would spank me in the morning, and it would hurt a great deal. Maybe a spanking from Rebeca wouldn’t be quite as bad, and at least it would be over and done with now. “All right,” I said finally, “you can punish me.”
A smile played on Rebeca’s lips. “All right,” she said. “Go and fetch me the hairbrush.” This was a specific brush Mother kept for smacking both our bottoms. My heart thudded in my chest as I trudged to the drawer, my hands trembling as I picked up the heavy wooden brush. I handed it over to my sister, who in the meantime had found a straight-backed chair and sat down on it, her face set with determination. She patted her lap, and I knew there was no escape. My stomach twisted with dread as I shuffled over, feeling the weight of what was about to happen.
“Manuel, don’t be so silly. You know Mother always uses the hairbrush on the bottom, and that’s how it’s going to be today. Now, last chance – me or Mother?” Her voice was stern, and I could see the brush glinting in her hand. I hesitated, but the thought of Mother’s even harsher discipline made me nod, resigned to my fate. Rebeca’s eyes softened just a little, but she remained resolute.
Rebeca picked up the brush again. “Bend over my knee, please.” I did as I was told. My heart pounded as I lay across her lap, my bottom exposed and vulnerable.
Rebeca seemed to take an age settling me down into the right position, her left hand pressing firmly on my lower back to hold me in place. I flinched as I felt the intimacy of her hand on my bottom as she got me right. She tapped the brush against my bottom, making me tense in anticipation. Looking back, it was obvious that she was enjoying this now-rare view of her little brother’s behind, not to mention the prospect of spanking it soundly! I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for what was to come.
Rebeca placed her left arm gently but firmly around my waist, holding me in place. Without any warning, the first sharp smack of the hairbrush landed right in the centre of my bottom. I cried out in surprise and pain. Rebeca did not stop. She raised the brush and brought it down again, this time on my left cheek. She continued, giving me twelve firm smacks in all, each one stinging more than the last. The sound of the hairbrush echoed in the room, and I could feel my legs kicking, but Rebeca held me fast. She wanted to teach me a lesson I would not forget, and I knew I had been very naughty indeed. When the last smack was given, my bottom was sore and hot, and I promised myself I would always try to be good in future.
I can’t say how long I was over my big sister’s knee, as the punishment quickly blurred into one continuous moment of smarting pain, screaming and crying. My bottom felt as though it were on fire, each new smack adding to the agony. By the time she finished, I was sobbing uncontrollably, my face wet with tears. My backside throbbed with a deep, aching heat, and I could barely catch my breath.
I was in such a state afterwards that Rebeca had to help me to my feet. My legs were shaking, and I could hardly stand. “Now, go to the corner!” she directed, her voice still firm but not unkind. I obeyed, shuffling over while I had a good think about my behaviour. Hands on your head, young man!” she commanded, and I did as I was told, sniffling and trying not to rub my burning skin.
I think I was in the corner for about half an hour. I spent most of the time crying freely, no longer caring about what my sister saw. The pain throbbed and pulsed, a constant reminder of my punishment, and I promised myself I would never be late home again.
After I had done my corner time, I was allowed to cover up again and sit down (rather awkwardly) for some dinner. Then I was sent straight to bed without further ceremony.
I had a pretty sleepless night. For one, my bottom was burning red still and I could feel the blood throbbing rhythmically in both my buttocks. Another concern was whether my sister would keep her word, or whether I would be having my pants put down in the morning as well – this time by my mother.
Thankfully, Rebeca kept her promise and didn’t say anything to Mother or Father. I had to be extra careful that neither of my parents saw my bottom for quite a few days, though. Thankfully, I also managed to hide the damage from classmates and teachers at school when we changed for PE.
Looking back, I think Rebeca felt like giving herself a treat by spanking me herself. I’ve never been able to work up the courage to talk to her about the incident, though, even though it’s now many years in the past.
