Pantsing and Stripping Forums

For lack of a better title, I am going with "Little Titties".

This is a story that's been percolating in my head for a while, in different forms and fashion. I've had these ideas mostly of a low-key, softcore story with some domestic discipline/girls don't have modesty. I've gravitated toward setting it in the mid 1970s, and featuring a Lynda Carter style older sister.

However, I decided to make this more modern times. The main characters are inspired slightly by Laura Ingills and Nelly Oleson from Little House on the Prairie, but I wanted them to evolve an be nuanced - so that's one of many influences. Molly's character is definitely inspired by Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles and I am loosely basing Penelope on a young Drew Barrymore - stuck up/prissy but with a very different persona.

This next chapter is a rough draft - I had written a lot more as an outline, but this is all I got chiseled out today.

It was Friday night, and I had a dick in my mouth in the front seat of my boyfriend’s car. I know that is a pretty wild place to start a story, but I think it is where I’ll begin. It wasn’t my first time giving a BJ, and there wasn’t anything particularly magical about my technique.

I couldn’t deep throat, without gagging myself. I wasn’t particularly keen on swallowing, even though I knew guys liked it when girls did that for them after they finished. I looked at that like swallowing a teaspoon of mayonnaise – close your eyes and swallow quickly and it’s over.

It felt degrading to swallow jizz for a guy’s amusement, like he was treating me like a cum gobbler or something. It felt degrading when a guy tries to fuck my face or force my head down on his dick. It felt equally degrading when a guy rubbed my head like he was petting a puppy dog and that’s what Steve was doing.

I didn’t say anything to him about it, though – I had voluntarily placed my head in his lap, unzipped his pants, and took his dick out so that I could suck it. I had been doing it for so long that I forgot what spontaneous reason I had for making this grand gesture, and I was starting to sober up a little.

It occurred to me that I had a couple of shots of vodka at the party, and I had chosen to blow my boyfriend for a very logical reason. I didn’t want to go inside my house and face my parents with vodka on my breath, and was too embarrassed to tell Steve that I just wanted to sit in his car and wait because my parents would definitely not be cool with me drinking at a party.

I was supposed to be on a date and hadn’t told them we were going to someone’s house with alcohol. My parents were pretty cool and laid back, but they weren’t THAT cool, and they certainly wouldn’t have let me drink booze.

I didn’t love giving head. I knew slutty girls at my school that claimed they loved sucking dick – but I couldn’t see how they did. It felt like I had a kielbasa in my mouth, and I wasn’t getting any pleasure out of it.

I didn’t want to unzip my jeans, and start masturbating in Steve’s car. I didn’t want to come home hot and bothered and looking guilty. At the same time, I wanted some reciprocation. I moved Steve’s hand to my breasts.

I was extremely flat-chested, but because my nipples were puffy and developing, they were incredibly sensitive, and getting felt up could be an instant orgasm. All Steve had to do was play with them the right way through my shirt.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much to play with, and he either got bored, or misunderstood my intention. He withdrew his hand and went back to stroking my hair – something I found annoying and patronizing.

I didn’t feel sexy, or grown-up, I felt silly. I also felt obligated to finish what I started. I didn’t want to be a tease – I was prepared to blow him until he came – which I assumed would be fairly quickly.

It wasn’t and I felt like a pervert trying to stroke his cock and give him a hand job at the same time. I didn’t know how to talk dirty, but I wanted Steve to talk – anything to cover up the sound of fa-fa-fa-fa, while I wrapped my lips around his dick and licked.

I wondered if he would try to cum on my face – that would be gross. No guy had ever dared to do something like that to me, but I’d seen porn like that. It felt like something men did to dominate a woman and make her feel like she had just been “nutted” on.

I was also worried that my parents would figure it out, maybe notice some semen on my face or in my hair. Did you ever see that movie “What about Mary?”

It came out in the 1990s, starring Ben Stiller and Cameron Diaz. I saw it when I was much younger, on cable TV. They left the scene where she has jizz in her hair, and it’s standing up. She doesn’t realize that her hair is stiff because of the cum in her hair. That scene irrevocably put me off the idea of getting nutted on.

In middle school, I had plenty of boys who would have gladly accepted a BJ from me if I had offered like I did for Steve. I didn’t offer back then.

I was in high school now, and I felt like I needed to mature – do what women do and get on with it. Steve was hard, his dick was about six inches long, and he seemed into it – but in my limited experience most guys didn’t last more than a few minutes.

This felt like an eternity.

“Is it good for you, baby?” I asked in a whisper, trying to sound slutty, while probably coming across corny.

“Yeah,” he put his dick back in my mouth, and encouraged me not to break the rhythm of pumping my mouth up and down on his cock by guiding my head with his hands. It felt condescending and controlling, but I let him do it.

I wanted to get him off, and go inside and go to bed. I wasn’t turned on by this – and I didn’t feel very good at giving oral. Stopping now would feel kind of wrong and I wanted to make him feel good. I assumed he might be encouraged to return the favor the next time we are alone.

I live in the suburbs, but it was late at night, and I had no concerns someone would walk by the car and catch us. It wasn’t a very busy neighborhood and my head was down in his lap.

I started to get a little bit of a thrill from the adrenaline rush of wondering what I might do if some random stranger DID catch us – and since the risk of being caught was so low, it didn’t worry me.

I sucked Steve’s prick so long that my mouth was getting dry, and I started to ration my spit – rubbing it into the vein on the bottom of his cock – the one that stuck out and pulsed. It seemed to be where men get a lot of pleasure, and I assumed it worked a little like my clit.

I was starting to regret not unzipping my pants and fingering myself. I was starting to worry that we had been outside for far too long and my parents may get worried. I started to think about my mom and dad frowning at me – and that turned me off.

I erased them from my mind, but it was too late. I couldn’t get them out of my head. I started to say something to Steve, and he hushed me.

He had the audacity to HUSH me. Steve was a Senior and much bigger than me physically. He was much more physically mature than I was, but I felt like he was still as goofy as my little brother Albert.

“Shut the fuck up, Molly – just blow me, hurry,” he whispered.

I frowned on his cock, unable to pull my head completely off of his dick – I wanted to stop. He had pissed me off by talking down to me. Instead, I politely continued “gurk, gurk, gurk,” was my only reply.

“Molly? Are you in there?” I heard my mom’s voice, and an abrupt tap on the window.

“Oh shit,” Steve whispered as he released my hair, and adjusted his pants.

“Oh my,” my mom obviously saw me or figured out what we were doing. She pivoted, and walked away – without another word.

I quickly composed myself and dashed inside, without another word to Steve. He sped away and didn’t text me for the rest of the night.

When I got inside the house, my mom didn’t say a word about it, and my father was already in bed. She looked disappointed in me. I think she could smell the vodka on me, and maybe even the familiar scent of sweaty penis – I could taste it on my lips, and it was unmistakable.

My mom must have told my father because he looked at me strangely the next day – like I had crossed some invisible line that should not be crossed. They didn’t say anything more about it, they didn’t punish me but, I was obviously not their “little girl” anymore. That wasn’t a position that I wanted to have for life, but clearly they realized I wasn’t as innocent as I may have let on.

At School, Steve didn’t ask what happened to me, and I didn’t talk about it again. I felt like I moved on, but a lingering suspicion continued in my mind that my parents trust in me had been eroded, and I had shocked them emerged.

I should have had the courage to have a discussion with them about it. It would have been good to clear the air and just let them know that as a teenager and a girl, I had sexual desires and urges just like anyone else, and I acted upon them – let them know I was capable of making my own decisions.

Instead, it was easier to let it all linger and say nothing at all.

I mention this story because a few weeks later, my Aunt and cousins arrived to stay with us. It had nothing to do with the incident with Steve. My Aunt was going through a messy divorce and needed a place to stay for a while. However, I think that my mom definitely told my Aunt about what happened.

My Aunt Katy immediately bristled when she was around me – like I was some sort of harlot and a bad influence on her son and daughter Willie and Penelope. They were around my age, and she homeschooled them. They seemed nice enough and polite but a little out of place in the modern world.

They knew how microwaves and televisions worked, and they didn’t speak in Pidgin Shakespeare. They knew what computers were, and Willie liked video games as much as my brother did – There was just something about my Aunt and her kids that their values seemed old fashioned and outdated like they would have been at home in the 1950s or 1960s rather than the year 2018.

It was hard to believe she had only moved in a few weeks ago. I had a fairly normal teenage life before my Aunt moved in. Aunt Katy has been going through a rough divorce. I remember when my parents told me that she had divorced my Uncle. He’s a charming, grizzly bear of a man – quick to laugh, quick to anger, and just as old-fashioned as my Aunt. I’d only met him a few times, and I was surprised to hear that they had separated.

“We’ll have to accommodate your Aunt, and cousins,” my mom told me. She said they do things a bit differently out in Nebraska, and that I’d have to adjust to it. I thought that meant simply sharing my room with Penelope.

I have a small room, and only one bed – so sleeping with my cousin wasn’t exactly on my bingo card as something I expected to do. My brother Albert had to accommodate Willie – but the two of them were like peas in a pod.

Willie is a little more rough and tumble, but Albert and him get along really well. They both love video games, computers, cars, and science fiction, and like most boys, they are a couple of perverts who like staring at girls.

Penelope and I couldn’t have been more different. She was dainty, sweet, and bookish, always polite, always poised. She sat up straight without thinking about it, spoke with a careful, gentle tone, and actually seemed to enjoy cooking and cleaning—smiling the whole time like it wasn’t a chore. She reminded me of someone pulled straight from Little House on the Prairie—the perfect blonde-haired, blue-eyed, picture-perfect daughter.

Penelope dressed like she’d stepped out of a different decade—not in a vintage, trendy way, but like she genuinely hadn’t gotten the memo that girls our age wore jeans, sneakers, or anything remotely casual. She stuck to long sundresses, always soft pastel colors or delicate floral prints, with skirts that never landed above her knees. No shorts, no long pants, no sneakers. Instead, she wore saddle shoes with white lacy anklet socks, the kind you’d expect on a doll or a little girl at Easter. Her makeup, when she wore it, was barely there—just muted earth tones that blended into her skin like they were afraid to make a statement.

And yet, somehow, despite all that primness, she still managed to look impishly cute, her upturned nose giving her this spoiled-princess effect, like she could get away with anything just by batting her lashes the right way.

I used to dress like a typical girl my age—apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur, you know that song? Sneakers, short-shorts, padded bras, crop tops. Casual was my middle name. But that all changed abruptly after my aunt moved in.

Now, I looked like the before picture in one of those “modesty makeovers” online. My shorts were replaced with knee-length skirts, my sneakers traded for stiff ballet flats, and my tops all had sleeves, even in the middle of summer. I should rewind to before my wardrobe change to give you a little context.

I was in the bathroom, legs spread, pleasuring myself with my electric toothbrush. It wasn’t exactly what it was made for, but it worked. I didn’t own any actual sex toys, and aside from a hairbrush handle or the bathtub faucet, this was my go-to when I was bored or a little lonely. I always made sure to clean it thoroughly afterward, and I was very discreet about it. If anyone in the family suspected, they never said anything to me about it.

It was kind of my fault that I didn’t lock the bathroom door, but I figured basic manners would cover me. Everyone knew to knock—at least, that’s what I assumed. I didn’t expect my cousin Willie to just barge into our shared bathroom like he owned it.

He froze. I froze. His eyes went wide for half a second before he spun on his heel, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to get out. He didn’t linger; he didn’t stare longingly or make it weird.

Honestly, in retrospect, I would have preferred my cousin take a good long look after catching me red handed buzzing my clit over running off to tell everyone what he just saw.

“Oh my God, Molly!” His voice cracked, halfway between horror and triumph. “You are so dirty! Disgusting!!”

I might have reminded him that everybody masturbates, but I was stunned into silence – staring up at him like a deer frozen by oncoming headlights.

The door slammed shut behind him, and I barely had time to yank my towel over myself before I heard his footsteps pounding down the hall.

“Mom! Aunt Carol! Everybody! You will not believe what Molly was just doing in the bathroom!”

his was pure humiliation, raw and inescapable. It felt like my world was collapsing in a red rush of tingling shame—my entire family now knew I had been making myself cum in the bathroom, and there was no living that down.

The worst part? I was still in the aftershocks of making myself reach a small orgasm, my body throbbing while I had to listen to Willie shame me, gleefully describing every detail of what he saw.

“Molly has red pubic hair! Just like the hair on her head! I thought she was sticking the toothbrush inside her, but she was rubbing it on the outside—over a big flap of skin that looked like a penis!”

I remained in the bathroom for almost thirty more minutes – paralyzed by shame, fear, humiliation. I simply didn’t know what to say. That only made things worse, because eventually my mom came to the door.

“Molly, we need to talk. Come out of there, please.”

My mom didn’t sound mad. She wasn’t yelling, wasn’t stomping around, but there was no mistaking that she wasn’t happy about what my cousin had seen.

I had no defense. I could have argued that Willie should have knocked, and maybe if he had just caught me on the toilet or drying off, that excuse would have worked. But this? I couldn’t really play the victim.
I hung my head and followed my mom to the kitchen, dread settling in my stomach. My father and Aunt Katy were already seated at the dinner table, waiting. It felt like an intervention.

“Molly, you are trying to grow up way too fast,” my mom said as she invited me to have a seat.
“Here it is, Mom.” My cousin Penelope retrieved my electric toothbrush like it was evidence in a murder trial and placed it on the table—the object of my shame standing upright on its base for everyone in my family to see, to visualize exactly what I had been doing with it.
“I would have brought it out,” I pouted.

“Was that all you were using in there?” my aunt asked, like it was any of her business.

I could have been sassy, defiant, crude. I could have smirked and joked about still having a tube of toothpaste up my butt, just to see the look on her face. Instead, I just looked down at my hands.
“If you are asked a question by a grown-up, girls must answer honestly in full, thorough answers,” Aunt Katy lectured, as if this was some universal law that I had to abide by.

“It’s not the end of the world. Everybody plays with themselves. I don’t even know why we’re talking about this,” I grumbled, arms folded on the table, staring down in frustration.

“Penelope, please find something to do. I abhor eavesdropping,” Aunt Katy said, her tone firm but even. “This is a time for us to discuss your cousin’s behavior, and it does not concern you.”
Penelope obeyed without a word, slipping out of the kitchen like she was relieved to escape. At least if they were going to shame me any further, Willie, Albert, and Penelope wouldn’t be part of the audience.
I waited, heat creeping up my neck, as the silence stretched. My mother sighed first, the kind of sigh that carried weight—disappointment, exhaustion, something else I couldn’t place.

“Girls and technology are a dangerous mix, Where did you get the idea to use such a device to satisfy your primal urges?” my Aunt asked.

I had no idea how to respond to that.

“I told you that she’s defiant, and she’s not even willing to answer my question,” my Aunt warned my parents. “Using a household item—one that belongs in your mouth—for that purpose is simply not acceptable. I would make Penelope clench a bar of soap in her mouth for an hour if I caught her doing something salacious!”

I almost snickered – imagining Penelope’s cute upturned nose, and her pretty blue eyes tearing up with humiliation as suds rolled down her lips, cheeks blushing, felt a lot better than being the one whose ass was being raked over the coals.

Not that I had any real grudge against my cousin. She was nice enough, and even though she looked stuck up—dainty and prissy like some Victorian doll—she was generally agreeable. I didn’t see her as a rival, and I didn’t wish her any actual suffering. It just made me feel better to imagine that she had been the one caught, rather than me.

“I think a bar of soap might be a little much?” my Dad spoke for the first time – as if he were asking if my mother and aunt were seriously considering it.

“Spare the rod, spoil the child,” my aunt folded her hands neatly on the table, like this was a casual discussion about chores instead of my absolute humiliation. “Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind,” she said matter-of-factly. “Penelope would be no more harmed in the long term by holding a bar of soap clenched in her teeth than she would by eating a bag of candy. However, she would carry the lesson a lot longer and take the consequences of her actions far more seriously. I don’t see why, at their age, we would coddle either of them.”

I assumed my aunt was bluffing—trying to scare me with vague threats, watching to see if I’d squirm.

My mother exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the table before she nodded. “I see your point,” she admitted, voice careful. “I do. But this is… a lot for Molly, all at once.” She glanced at me, but it wasn’t a rescue, just an observation. “That said, I will take your recommendations into consideration.”
My stomach twisted. What exactly did that mean?

Aunt Katy’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, like the matter was already settled. “Good. I believe we will have harmony and order in this house, without salacious behavior from naughty girls.”

She picked up my toothbrush by the very tip, as though it were a contaminated relic, and turned to my mother. “I recommend we throw this in the garbage and purchase a good old-fashioned hand-powered one. And as for Molly—she should have to apologize to Willie in front of the entire household for her crude and unseemly habit of fiddling her oyster in shared spaces. I believe a full and proper apology is appropriate in this case – the same kind that Penelope gave you.”

I had the distinct feeling that my father wasn’t entirely on board with this, but my mother was sold. “I don’t question your methods, Katy. The results speak for themselves,” she said carefully. “But Albert and Molly aren’t used to how you do things—would you mind if we eased into that?”

Aunt Katy scoffed. “There’s no need for modesty. Willie’s already seen your daughter’s *naughty bits* and lived to tell the tale.” She gestured broadly, as if this was all just a trivial cultural exchange. “We weren’t eased into anything when we arrived here. My family simply had to adjust—to cell phones at the dinner table, video games, short-shorts, mini-skirts.” She tilted her head, looking pointedly at my mother. “Your failure to address your daughter’s bad influence on Willie and Penelope sends a clear message that permissive parenting is acceptable.”

I wished that my parents would push back. I hardly dressed like a stripper – yes, I wore short shorts, mini-skirts, padded bras, and high heels, but it was what all the girls at my school wore.

My mother pressed her lips together, exhaling through her nose. “What must she do?”

“Stand up, Molly,” my Aunt instructed like I was her puppet. I did as I was told. “If a young lady has no sense of shame, no sense of decorum, then of course she’s going to act on impulse.” She glanced at my mother again. “And if she isn’t corrected, she will continue.”
I bristled, heat prickling the back of my neck. “Corrected?”

“Hold the object of your shame and don’t speak until you are told to apologize to everyone.”

I thought I was just going to have to apologize to my cousin Willie. My Aunt’s way of thinking was that I had offended everyone with my behavior because Willie TOLD everyone what he saw me doing.

Penelope entered the kitchen and took her place, standing straight with her shoulders squared, chin up, facing me directly. It was almost like she was sharing my fate—except she wasn’t the one in trouble. I didn’t mirror her posture, but something about the way she stood made it feel like she understood. Like this was some kind of silent show of solidarity.

My brother Albert and Willie arrived at the same time, still laughing, still snickering—completely unbothered by what I had done. Clearly, neither of them had been traumatized by what they saw or heard what I did to my clit with the toothbrush in my hands.

As far as I was concerned, it felt like I was going to make things worse by continuing to talk about it.
Albert wasn’t trying to rub salt in the wound, but his wide, amused grin wasn’t exactly helping, either. He stood in front of me, hands in his pockets, looking thoroughly entertained by the whole situation.
Willie stood a little straighter, not nearly as stiff or posed as his sister, but his easy, good-natured grin made it clear he was enjoying this more than he should have been.

“Albert, Penelope, I know you’re both aware of what Molly was caught doing—and that she’s been very naughty,” Aunt Katy said matter-of-factly. “She’s getting off easy. We’ll be replacing the brush with a good old-fashioned toothbrush she can use by hand, and she’s going to apologize to the three of you for her behavior.”

Willie smirked. “Can’t she still scrub her naughty parts with a regular toothbrush?”
Albert’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide, shocked that our cousin would say something like that so openly in front of the whole family. I was just as stunned—but more by the fact that Aunt Katy didn’t so much as flinch. She let the comment hang in the air, refusing to dignify it with a response.

I had assumed that ridiculous rule about answering thoroughly only applied when she, my mom, or my dad asked a question—not when Willie threw out some crude joke.

I glanced around the room, desperately searching for an out, but my mother looked expectant, my father looked exhausted, and my aunt looked absolutely certain that I owed an answer. Albert and Penelope didn’t even move, like they had been trained not to interfere.
And Willie? He just grinned, waiting.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

What was the correct response here? “No, I don’t plan to defile a toothbrush?” That was obvious. “I’ll try my best not to bring shame upon the family with my reckless self-indulgence?” Too theatrical.

Maybe I could just curl up and die instead or make myself six inches tall and escape. That would be easier.

“I don’t plan to play with myself with my new toothbrush,” I said stiffly. “And I will lock the door when I use the bathroom. Would it be too much to ask for you to knock first, Willie?”

“There, was that so hard?” Aunt Katy smiled, turning to Penelope. “Penelope, was that a proper apology?”

“No, ma’am,” my cousin answered. She didn’t normally call her mother ma’am, but under the circumstances, I could see why she might. “Cousin Molly admitted what she did wrong and what she’d do differently, but she didn’t actually say she was sorry or express sympathy for exposing her… erotic behavior to my brother. Instead, she tried to bargain by insisting that Willie take a preventive action.”
“Exactly,” Willie said, his tone almost annoyingly reasonable. “Why would I have to knock if you’ve locked the door? It would already be locked.”

Then, in a tone so polite it had to be insincere, he added, “I am sorry I walked in on you, Molly. Back at my old house, we just locked the door when we needed privacy. It never even occurred to me that you might be playing with yourself in the bathroom.”

His lips twitched, barely suppressing a grin.

My aunt didn’t call Willie out for being crude. Instead, she turned her attention back to me.
“Try again,” Aunt Katy instructed, her tone calm but firm. “This time, be more considerate. Focus on what you did wrong and what you will do differently, without placing blame anywhere else.” She coached me like she was correcting my backhand on the tennis court.
I exhaled sharply through my nose, swallowing my pride. “I’m sorry for what I did,” I said, forcing the words out evenly. “It was inappropriate, and I should have locked the door. In the future, I will make sure I take more care to respect the shared space of the household.”

I could feel everyone watching me. The air was thick with expectation – I gripped the electric toothbrush in my hands tightly – before realizing it only made me look worse.

Aunt Katy tilted her head slightly. “Do you not curtsy when you give an apology?”
My stomach dropped. What?

I had only curtsied when I was a little girl during ballet. I was wearing shorts. My Aunt’s expression told me that she wasn’t joking.

Heat crept up my face as I hesitated, then, feeling ridiculous, I bent slightly at the knees and gave a half-hearted imaginary curtsy in Willie’s direction, my expression caught somewhere between defiance and embarrassment.

My brother Albert snorted. My dad barely hid his smirk.

“We’ll work on that,” Aunt Katy said, unimpressed. Penelope looked equally disappointed, as if my lack of form personally offended her. “Now, apologize to your brother, please.”

I clenched my jaw. I wasn’t sure what I had done to Albert, but I wasn’t about to start arguing now. I couldn’t just repeat the apology; Albert hadn’t actually seen me fiddling with my clit. “I know it was embarrassing for everyone involved, and I regret putting you in a position where you had to be part of this conversation at all.”

Then with my dignity already in tatters, I gave him a more serious curtsy—stiff, awkward, and completely humiliating.

“Was that a proper apology, Penelope?” my Aunt asked.

“No Ma’am, my cousin expressed regret, but didn’t say she was sorry, barely expressed remorse, and used a pronoun without an antecedent to say what she did wrong. She offered absolutely no promise of improving her behavior, but her form was much better on the curtsy at the end.”

Penelope had ever reason to smirk or snicker, the deadpan analysis of my apology seemed comical to me. However, nobody was laughing.

“I’m sorry that you had to hear about me masturbating in the bathroom,” I said, the words nearly catching in my throat. “It was inappropriate and disrespectful to the rest of the household. I should have locked the door, and I should have been more mindful of where I chose to do something so private. In the future, I will make sure I am more discreet and that nothing like this happens again.”

Then, with what little dignity I had left, I gave him another curtsy—deeper this time, more practiced, but no less humiliating.

“Much better, Molly,” my Aunt put her hand on my shoulder to comfort me. “Your knees are rattling, and your jaw is clenched. Relax,” she suggested calmly before pointing out that she caught the last part of the apology. “If you thought it was clever to say that you’d be more discreet in the future and do a better job of hiding yourself while you masturbate, then you’ve only served to prove my point that you are a very naughty girl.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that – but I thought better of being defensive. “You do not have to lock the door, either. We won’t ask you to change for us,” she added sweetly.

“Penelope, Willie, you will both knock on the bathroom door if it is closed before entering,” she added firmly. I was pleased to see that she could compromise until she added the first of what would become several new house rules.

“We have harmony and order now; you’ve apologized to your brother and cousin for your behavior. You’ve lost your sex toy, and because you have admitted that you plan to be much more discreet, you will ask permission to use the bathroom from now on. I do not want you to be in there for more than twenty minutes – and that’s 10 minutes before and after your shower. Your mother and I will walk in as we see fit to ensure that you’ve not chosen to try being discreet with your new toothbrush. Anything to say before you throw away your old toothbrush and with it your naughty behavior, Molly?”

I stared down at the toothbrush in my hand, my fingers curled tightly around it. My stomach knotted as I hesitated, the weight of everyone's attention pressing down on me.

“I…” My throat felt dry. “I understand.” The words barely came out.

Aunt Katy nodded. “Then go ahead and throw your naughty sex toy in the garbage.”

I felt like my Aunt was trying to psychologically make me feel like I was throwing away my need to diddle myself in private – but I still planned to be discreet about it and continue. I just said what I thought she wanted to hear.

I stepped forward and dropped the toothbrush into the trash. It landed with a dull clunk, final and inescapable.

“Very good. Now, wash your hands – that brush has been in unseemly places.”

I turned to the sink, scrubbing my hands under the warm water even though they didn’t feel dirty. This was about obedience, not hygiene, and I wasn’t about to test her patience.

When I turned back, Aunt Katy stood waiting.

“Albert, Penelope, Willie—you may go.”

I looked up slightly at that. Them, not me.

The three of them left without hesitation, moving quickly like they didn’t want to linger. My brother cast a brief glance my way—whether it was sympathy or amusement, I couldn’t tell—but then he was gone. The room felt smaller without them.

I swallowed, shifting slightly. “Wait… don’t I need to apologize to Penelope?”

Penelope turned back around, delight dancing on her face, her pretty blue eyes twinkling. I wasn’t sure why I had even made the offer. Apologizing to Albert and Willie had been far more humiliating than being caught in the act itself. But something about Penelope being left out felt wrong. My sense of fairness had kicked in before my brain could stop it.

Aunt Katy arched an eyebrow, clearly puzzled but pleasantly surprised by my offer. “Do you really want to apologize to your cousin Penelope?”

I hesitated. “Well… it just seemed like I had to apologize to everyone else, and she does know an awful lot about apologies,” I said, glancing toward Penelope. Willie and Albert remained to see what would happen next – because of course they would.

My Aunt chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Molly, Penelope is not above temptation or naughty behavior. And the consequences for her, had she been caught, would have been far more severe. Wouldn’t they, Penelope?” Aunt Katy prompted.

“Yes, ma’am,” Penelope answered immediately, standing stiff and proper—not pouting, not reluctant. If anything, she seemed proud to be asked the question. Not enthusiastic, not smiling, but like a teacher’s pet who had just given the entire room detention—including herself—for talking.

Aunt Katy met my gaze and gave a slight shake of her head. “Penelope does not require an apology,” she said simply. “She was not wronged. She was not offended. She was merely witness to the consequences of your actions. “My Aunt continued, her voice warm but unwavering. “The only apology you might have to give her would be that you weren’t held to the same standard she would have been when she is caught doing something naughty. You don’t know what is – so you have nothing to apologize for.”

Penelope didn’t seem disappointed – she seemed to agree with her mother. My Aunt softened slightly, tilting her head. “You’ll also ask permission before using the bathroom from now on, Penelope, just like Molly. You will be limited to ten minutes before and after showers, or twenty minutes total—no more, no less. Your Aunt and I will check on you at will – to ensure you aren’t tempted to behave like your
“I didn’t mean to get Penelope in trouble,” I said, wincing as I realized how this was making me sound—like some perverted horn-dog who couldn’t stop diddling herself. “I just thought that since I apologized to the boys, I’d have to apologize to the other girl.” I shrugged, unsure why that logic didn’t apply.
“You didn’t get me in trouble. You’re keeping me out of trouble,” Penelope said sweetly.
I blinked. “I… don’t understand.”

“My mom is just saying that the same rule for you applies to me,” she explained. “That way, no one will have any reason to suspect either of us of being naughty.”

“Very good, Penelope,” Aunt Katy said, clearly pleased with her daughter’s response.

I frowned slightly. “Okay… does the same rule apply to my brother and Willie?” I asked, sensing a huge double standard.

Aunt Katy and Penelope both looked taken aback. Albert looked outright offended, like I had just suggested he be punished for something I did. That wasn’t what I meant. Willie, on the other hand, just grinned, completely confident that his mother would never hold him to the same restrictions.

Aunt Katy shook her head, her tone patient but unwavering. “Girls are held to a different standard than boys because we are wired differently. We can give birth and create life—boys cannot. They are physically stronger than us, meant to be husbands, while we are meant to be wives. It’s simple biology, Molly.” She shrugged, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. “And if you’re suggesting that your mother and I should be walking in on your brothers in the shower—that’s disgusting, and it smacks of turnabout on the boys as some sort of revenge – they did nothing to warrant additional restriction.”

I felt the same was true of my cousin Penelope but I wasn’t going to argue for her -since she seemed fine with it. I held up my hands. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought it’d be fair if all four of us had to do it.”

Aunt Katy gave me a knowing smile, like she had been expecting that response. “Your brother and Willie are not held to the same standard because they don’t need to be. They do not carry the same responsibilities that young women do.”

I was dismissed shortly after that by my parents and Aunt, just relieved that the humiliating ordeal was finally over. I had never been “dismissed” before – but I was about to learn that was just the beginning of the changes they had in store for me starting that weekend.

When I went to my room, my cousin was already in bed—wearing a full-length nightgown, her hair neatly braided into twin tails. She looked like something out of a historical reenactment, untouched by the modern world.

I sighed as I stripped down for bed. “I’m sorry for getting you in trouble. I didn’t mean to make you have a time limit or have to ask permission to use the bathroom. That’s ridiculous.”
Normally, I slept naked, but with Penelope sharing my bed, I pulled on a training bra and panties instead. Before climbing under the covers, I gave her a half-serious curtsy to go along with the apology.
She didn’t laugh. “You can ridicule me if you want,” she said softly, “but you don’t have to apologize to me.”

I frowned. “I’m not ridiculing you,” I said, a little defensively. Okay, maybe the curtsy had been a bit of a dig, but it was hard not to make a joke out of something so over the top. I sat on the edge of the bed, studying her. “I just don’t understand what you have against apologies.”

Penelope smoothed her blanket over her lap and shrugged. “I don’t mind having a reasonable limit on bathroom time. In exchange, I earn trust. After what you did, if we didn’t have this rule, Willie or your brother would be right to snicker and ask if we’re going to make love to our toothbrushes or stick a can of shaving cream where the sun doesn’t shine…”

I cringed. “Okay, gross—point made.”

I didn’t think little miss priss would use a vulgarity, or even think about places where the sun doesn’t shine on her body.

She gave me a small, knowing look. “Now, they can’t say that. We actually save some dignity.” She leaned back against her pillow. “And besides, I have nothing to hide from my mother or your aunt. I’m just a girl. It’s not like I have anything they haven’t seen before.”

I frowned. “You really don’t care that they’ll be checking in on you?”

Penelope shook her head. “Why would I? I don’t do anything wrong. It doesn’t bother me if my mom or your aunt sees me brushing my teeth or fixing my hair. It’s just easier to be good and let them see that for themselves than to argue about it.”

“What about wiping your butt? Or shaving your legs?” I asked, scrunching my nose.
Penelope didn’t even blink. “It’s perfectly natural. And I’d rather they know I wiped my ass than think I didn’t.”

I gawked at her. “You say ass?”

She smirked. “Why not? I have one, and I wipe it. What, do you think you have some special, starfish-shaped, sparkly fairy butt hole that poops chocolate and farts rainbows? Like we have to charge admission just to get a look at two floppy butt cheeks and a poop hole?”

Penelope stretched her arms over her head, settling deeper into her pillow. “Girls don’t really need modesty.”

I blinked. “What?”

She didn’t elaborate. She just said it like it was an obvious fact, like water is wet or the sky is blue.
Before I could push for an explanation, she added, “I’m sure by tomorrow, your parents will have forgotten all about you getting caught masturbating—as long as you ask permission to use the bathroom.”

It still felt humiliating to be relegated to asking to use the bathroom in my own house. But, like a lot of rules my mother made up, I assumed this one would eventually be forgotten. She had been strict before, but nothing quite like Aunt Katy.

The next morning, I braced myself for the embarrassment of having to ask permission just to do my hair and put on makeup. But when I asked my mom privately, she didn’t make a big deal out of it. She didn’t ask for details, didn’t barge in on me—not that she would have seen much anyway.
I decided I had probably made too much of it in my head. When my phone stopped working, I assumed it was a glitch—until I saw my brother scrolling like nothing was wrong. His data, his Wi-Fi, everything worked fine. My phone? Nothing. Not even Wi-Fi.

I asked my parents about it, holding onto the slim hope that this was all just a mix-up—maybe they had secretly bought me a brand-new iPhone, and in the process of switching things over, the phone company had deactivated my old one a little too soon.

The idea wasn’t completely unrealistic; my mom loved surprise gifts, and my dad had a habit of acting nonchalant about big purchases until the moment of reveal. It was a comforting thought, at least—one that kept me from assuming the worst.

“We discussed it after your behavior last night,” she said casually. “Your father and I decided that you’ll follow the same rules as your cousin. It will be less confusing for both of you and fair since you’re both held to the same standard. Penelope doesn’t have a phone, and your aunt and I grew up without one—we turned out just fine.”

Dad nodded. “And maybe now, I’ll actually get to have a conversation with you at dinner,” he quipped with a smile.

They weren’t being ogres or sadistic. But it still felt deeply unfair—especially since my brother’s phone was untouched. “What? Are you going to do the same for Albert? He looks at his phone during dinner too!”

Albert’s ears must have been burning because, right on cue, he and Willie walked into the kitchen with Aunt Katy.

“Good morning, Molly,” my aunt greeted, far too cheerful for my mood. “Judging by that frowny face, I assume you’re not thrilled about handing your phone over to Albert?”
I blinked. “What? I wasn’t told that.”

Aunt Katy arched an eyebrow. “Well, you won’t be using it, and your parents told me you have an iPhone 13—while your brother is still using an iPhone 7. Do you think that’s fair? That he has to keep using an outdated phone when there’s a perfectly good, newer one available for him?”

“I’m never getting my phone back, am I?” I pouted.

“You don’t need a phone,” Aunt Katy said dismissively. “You’ll have plenty to do—you won’t even have time to worry about looking at one.”

She turned to Albert. “Go ahead and thank your sister for the iPhone 13. I’m sure it’ll be much faster and take far better pictures.”

Albert grinned. “Thanks, sis! This is gonna be great for gaming!” Then, as if to twist the knife, he actually said, “Yoink!” out loud as he snatched my phone from my hands.
Then he turned and handed his old phone to Willie.

“Thank you, Molly! I’ve never had a phone before! This is neat-o!” Willie beamed as he fumbled with the iPhone, clearly having no idea how to use it.

I was still processing the injustice when Albert looked back at me, completely unfazed. “Oh, and sis? Can I get your charger too? You have one of those really fast ones, and my phone uses a different USB cable.”

I gawked at him. Was he serious? It felt like he was pouring salt on a fresh wound.

Before I could snap back, Penelope strolled into the kitchen, still in her nightgown, completely oblivious to my plight. Her blonde hair was in double braids. She seemed tired, sweaty – she looked tired, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead—like she’d already had a rough morning.

“I finished trimming the hedges, weeding the front and back yard, and I can start on the hedging,” she announced. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom to shower and change into something else to do yard work, Mom?” she asked boldly.

We hadn’t even had breakfast yet, and she’d already been outside doing yard work—in her nightgown?
It was their first full weekend at our house since arriving, and I had never—not once—done yard work in my life. That was something my father usually took care of, with the occasional, half-hearted help from my brother.

Aunt Katy gave her a once-over and nodded. “Yes, dear, I’ll ask your uncle to go around and inspect what you did this morning. You may have the full twenty minutes. You know what’s appropriate to wear—no shorts, no jeans. When you’re done, you can help me with breakfast, and after cleaning the kitchen, you’ll continue your yard work.”


“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” Penelope agreed without a hint of complaint. What a little butt-kisser!
“Wow, I didn’t even know you were out there! Did you find my power tools?” my dad asked, clearly more grateful than shocked at the unexpected help.

“Power tools, sir?” Penelope asked, genuinely confused.

“Yes, I have electric clippers in the garage,” Dad explained.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know how to use those,” she admitted. “I used the old-fashioned clippers and pulled the weeds by hand. I hope that’s okay?”

Dad blinked. “Those clippers are really dull—I’ve been meaning to throw them away.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry—I didn’t know!”

I half-expected her to curtsy just to make her obsequiousness complete.

“I’m afraid my daughter probably isn’t suited to handling power tools,” Aunt
Katy interjected smoothly. “Do you mind taking Albert and Willie outside and showing them how to inspect the job Penelope did? If it’s not right, I’ll have her use the power tools.”

My dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, Penelope, I’ve got to say—I appreciate the effort. That’s a lot of work to do by hand.”

“I don’t mind, sir,” Penelope said sweetly. “It builds character.”

Aunt Katy beamed at her daughter, clearly pleased. “Exactly.”

My father smiled approvingly. “That’s the kind of attitude that gets you far in life. Hard work, discipline—your mother’s raising you right.”

Albert, who had been half-listening, suddenly straightened up when Dad turned to him. “Come on, son, let’s take a look at the yard. You too, Willie.”

Albert groaned. “Do I get character points for inspecting the yard?”
“Less talking, more moving,” Dad said with an amused shake of his head.
Albert muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue as he and Willie followed my father outside.

Penelope folded her hands neatly in front of her, waiting for permission to leave.

Aunt Katy nodded. “You were already given permission to use the bathroom. Clean yourself thoroughly. I didn’t want to embarrass your Uncle and cousin by pointing out that you reek of sweat, but it’s just us girls now. You may go shower, dear.”

“I am sorry, Mom! I assumed I had to wait to be dismissed from the room.” Penelope dipped into a full curtsy—deep, graceful, practiced.

"I haven't discussed the rules here with your Aunt and Uncle fully yet- we have to make a few compromises so as not to disrupt their house - we'll have to find something more suitable for you to do yard work in than your birthday suit. Your Aunt and Uncle have neighbors who may be offended by your little boobs and butt hanging out.

“Whatever you think is best, Mom, I appreciate being allowed to wear the nightgown to do my outside chores. They have a fenced in back yard; so I probably wouldn’t be seen if I have to work naked.”

“You can't keep wearing that nightgown or else you’ll ruin it; it’s hardly suitable. Every minute you stand here gabbing is a minute that’s counted against you for bathroom time,” my Aunt said. Penelope briskly left.

Suddenly, I felt like my issue with losing my phone was hardly worth stressing about.

“Do you see how easy you’ve had it? " my mom said. Penelope was up doing yard work before you went to the bathroom—and she’s not complaining.”

“I don’t think she has much choice,” I shrugged bitterly.

Aunt Katy gave me a pleasant smile, the kind that somehow made her words sound even firmer. “Penelope isn’t arguing, and she wouldn’t complain—she certainly can if she wants to.”

My mom nodded. “Your cousin understands structure and rules are meant to help, not punish. Maybe there’s something to that. I know it came as a shock to you that you can’t use your phone, but you’ll get used to it.”

“How am I supposed to text my friends? Or my boyfriend?” I huffed, steering the conversation back to the only thing that mattered. Losing my phone was one thing, but being cut off from him? That was another. We’d been dating off and on for a few months.

"If your relationship can’t survive without constant texting, he can still come by the house. You just have to ask permission to go on a date," my mom said.

I looked between the two of them.

"Did you already decide that rule?" I asked.

I wasn’t being openly defiant, but the resentment was building. I wasn’t happy about it.
That weekend, I went through the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. It didn’t matter what I said or how I said it—the decision was made, and I wasn’t going to convince my mom, dad, or aunt to change their minds.

Right now? I was firmly in the denial and anger stage.

"No, we didn’t discuss it," my mom admitted, her tone still soft, almost cheerful. "But if you want to leave, you should ask for permission. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. That way, I’ll know where you are, dear."

I exhaled slowly, pressing my lips together before finally saying, "You just made me give away my phone. You could’ve always texted me to find out where I was when I had that."
I knew it was a little smart-mouthed, but the words slipped out before I could stop them.

"I would advise you to watch your tone," she warned, her voice still calm, but carrying an unmistakable edge. "I wouldn’t allow Penelope to have a suitor calling on her—they are both just girls. Molly obviously wants to live in the fast lane, make out in the backseat of cars, and talk dirty behind bushes. What’s the hurry to be an unwed mother and drop out of school?"

Penelope returned briskly, now dressed in a floral-print sundress, simple heels, and a white apron, her hair neatly arranged, a touch of subtle, natural makeup on her face. She looked completely put-together and ready to work.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, Aunt Carol,” she said eagerly. “Will you show me where you keep everything in the cupboards?”

My mom usually did the cooking, but she seemed more than happy to teach both of us how to make breakfast and set the table. Aunt Katy joined in as well.

For the first time, it was all four of us in the kitchen, working together. And, I had to admit—it was kind of fun. I’d never been asked to help in the kitchen before.

Just as we were getting into a rhythm, my dad returned with Albert and Willie from their inspection. He looked pleased.
"You did an outstanding job with the yard, Penelope," my dad said approvingly.

Penelope immediately turned, bowed her head demurely, and lifted the sides of her apron as she dipped into a deep, graceful curtsy, bending her knee low. Aunt Katy beamed, clearly delighted by the praise for her daughter.

"All things considered, anyway," Dad added. "You missed a few spots, but that’s understandable, given you were using dull hand tools."

I found it hard to believe, but my cousin looked mortified—her face flushed red, and she apologized profusely. My father waved it off, assuring her it was no big deal and that she had done a remarkable job under the circumstances.

"Do you mind teaching the girls how to use power tools and showing them what they did wrong, Charles?" my aunt asked.

There was no point in arguing. If I refused, I’d look lazy compared to Penelope.
Once we had the table set, the guys sat down, and we poured drinks for them. I half-zoned out, imagining I was a waitress in a diner, taking orders and delivering plates.

Mom and Aunt Katy joined the table once we finished preparing breakfast, and I slid into my seat next to them. Penelope, however, remained standing.

Aunt Katy glanced at her daughter; her expression unreadable. "You can also sit, Penelope."
If anyone else noticed that she had to be given permission, they didn’t say anything.
I hadn’t paid much attention to how things worked at the table before now. Most nights, if I ate with the family at all, my head was buried in my phone.

As conversation picked up—my parents talking, Willie and Albert joking around—I leaned toward Penelope and muttered, "We have to ask permission to sit?" I pouted slightly, not expecting anyone to hear.

But the table went quiet.

Aunt Katy laughed lightly. "No, dear. Penelope just likes to help—you two can sit and eat. If anyone needs a refill, you'll get up and get it. We aren’t ogres," she chuckled, like I was being ridiculous for even asking – the others continued eating, seeing that there was no drama.

Penelope brightened, turning toward me eagerly. "This is going to be great. It’s like we’re going to be sisters! We can help each other out, play dolls and dress-up together, and do different activities!"

Penelope nodded excitedly. "Of course! We can help each other pick outfits, do each other’s hair, practice curtsies—I can help you learn to sit up straight and stop slouching, even show you how to walk properly in heels!"

I sat up a little straighter – suddenly aware that I was slouching.

I glanced at my mom, expecting her to bail me out, but she simply smiled when I made a face.

"It sounds fun," she said. “You aren’t a maid – you just have certain chores you are going to be required to do from now on. We’ve never made you lift a finger around the house, and you haven’t been grateful. All the work you feel you ‘suddenly’ have to do, your father, brother or I had to do.”

Aunt Katy nodded approvingly. "Girls should enjoy learning how to present themselves well. I think this will be good for both of you. Once you finish cleaning the kitchen, you can ask your father to show you the spots that Penelope missed, and the two of you can clear those. Then you’ll have an hour or so of free time for some good, clean fun. How does that sound?"

I wanted to say, "Yass Massuh, that shore do sound good," but I thought better of it.
My parents and Aunt were serious—dead serious. And then my mom said something that really stuck with me.

All these chores I suddenly had to do? Someone else had been doing them before.

I wasn’t being punished. I was just taking my turn.

They probably thought it had been unfair that I got to do whatever I wanted while they had to handle these chores before—so fair was fair.

I looked back at Penelope, who was practically glowing with excitement.

I love the story set-up - very interesting - and the dynamics between the characters is just marvelous. I hope you continue to edit and flesh out your outline and continue with this story as I am most interested in seeing what happens next.

Hooked6

..

My post from before seems to have gotten lost in the reset.

I keep waiting for Molly to blow up at her aunt, lol
How old is everyone meant to be in the story?

Very fun start, excited to see where this goes!

I changed the start of the story. I enjoyed the scenario of having to parade around in the department store in the tiny one piece because it was fun and I felt it set the tone.

However, I wanted to illustrate that Molly is a sexual person with sexual needs - so I decided to replace it. That's the big change. I did some edits, and removed a few duplicate passages. if you notice others let me know. I don't have any editor - just a friend who sometimes helps me catch mistakes.

As to age, I never define those. I let the character's maturity define it for the reader. They are as old as you need them to be. I don't know what the laws are/will be where someone is - so I think the best thing to do is simply not get into that particular detail.

I'll try to get some of Chapter Two posted shortly. I finished up all of the cousins don't need modesty story ( one more chapter to post as of this writing). I plan to also write the ending to the Christmas story I had "Twatmas" - but I've been waiting for some inspiration.

In the meantime, I extracted one scene from this story. I rewrote it into a standalone story (Mom's Rectal Thermometer) with slightly different characters, because it took the story in a different direction than I wanted it to go. It was still such a fun little idea - having to be naked in front of everyone getting your temperature taken that I couldn't abandon it.

I'd like to make this story more "softcore" than some of my past stories and focus on practical things, stuff like playing cops and robbers in the woods, maybe taking the family on a road trip, stuff like that.

Hey Eddie,
I actually enjoy that its more softcore, while i enjoy sex (who doesn't?) I feel the softcore side of things lets you bring out more of the 'embarrassed' in enf, thats just my feelings though.
Also, i enjoyed your christmas story, the snow streaking scene was fun!

"Look, I know you are not happy about the new rules, dear, but we love you and want the best for you, Molly. We need to talk."

I was sweaty and tired, sulking in my room, when my Mom walked in. I buried my face in my pillow and mumbled incoherently. I was angry with all of the changes going on and with my entire world turning upside down.

"Honey, sit up and talk to me. You have plenty of time to become a woman - stay mommy's little girl for a little bit longer."

"I am shocked you bothered to knock at all," I mumbled. "I don't get to have any privacy, and I have to do all the chores.”

I knew that I sounded passive-aggressive and petty, but that’s how I felt.

"No, you don’t do ALL the chores, but that can be arranged,” My Mom was clearly trying to reach out to me and be empathetic, but she also wasn’t going to allow me to exaggerate. “I am not going to justify and detail all the chores that are done around the house, but your Aunt and I made breakfast. You’ve never lifted a finger to offer to help around the house until you were made to do it once. Who did you think trimmed the hedges before today?”

“The hedge fairy?” I joked sweetly in a playful baby voice. She had me there – so I simply made a goofy face and went with it. I felt silly that I had complained.

“There is my little girl,” my Mom said as she brushed my hair with her fingers. It reminded me of how Steve had rubbed my hair while I was going down on him a few weeks earlier, and I cringed.

“I am not going to be a little girl all of my life, Mom,” I assured her.

“I know, dear. That’s why I want you to stay one as long as you can. I was in a hurry to grow up, and I can only tell you that you don’t get to go back – make the most of your time now,” she advised. It was good advice, but not something you can really appreciate as a teenager.

“You have some new rules to follow, but they are the same as Penelope has been following, and that is fair. I think it will be good for you. It’s certainly done wonders for Penelope.”

“Miss Goody Two-Shoes doesn’t need rules. She just does whatever she is told, doesn’t complain, and walks around like her shit doesn’t stink,” I joked playfully.

“Language!” My Mom didn’t find that funny. I had cussed in front of her before, but quite rarely. “Can’t you say that she thinks her poop doesn’t stink?”

“The words mean the same thing, and we are both mature enough to know what they mean, why talk like babies about pee-pee and poo-poo,” I countered.

“It’s just not appropriate, and I think, as parents, we did you a disservice by permitting you to talk like that around us. I never did around my parents, and I doubt your father did either. It’s a lack of respect, dear. Do you know what would happen if Penelope said something like that? Her Mom would wash her mouth out with soap.”

“If Aunt Katy pushed Penelope off a bridge because she said a bad word, would you push me off a bridge?” I asked in a smart-assed, obviously rhetorical way.
“I came in here to have a conversation with you, Molly, and see how you are adjusting to the new rules. If you are just going to be silly, we can have that conversation later,” my Mom started to get up.

“I am sorry, Mom. I am having a hard time adjusting. It all happened so suddenly. I went from having my own room to having to share it. I adjusted to that, and now you’ve got me outside pulling weeds. I was told that I have to ask permission to use the bathroom, but my little brother doesn’t?”

“Is that why you are mad? You want us to force Albert to ask permission to use the bathroom? Would you accept the other rules if we do that?”

“What other rules? What’s next? I am going to have to wear a bonnet and dress like Shirley Temple so that Penelope and I can tap dance together?”

“I won’t make you wear a bonnet, but would it be so bad to dress nicely?” my Mom asked. I felt sick to my stomach – because it sounded like she thought that Penelope’s out-of-date clothes were nice. “We cleaned out your closet while you were outside doing chores, and you will borrow some of Penelope’s clothes until I can take you to the store and find some things for you.”

My eyes flashed angrily, and my Mom put her hands up defensively – like she didn’t want to hear it. “We just took your push-up bras and thongs,” my Mom added that she didn’t know why she ever bought those for me. “You don’t have any reason to dress sexy. You are just a girl, Molly. We took your mini-skirts, high heels, and some of your makeup for the same reason. I didn’t take all of jeans and shorts, though – I left some of the ones that I thought were appropriate so you can wear them around the house.”

“Golly gee, thanks?” I asked sarcastically. “I can’t wear jeans to school anymore?”

“Girls are supposed to wear skirts and dresses and not dress like boys. I am going to start doing the same thing, so it’s not just you that is changing. We’ll be more feminine and attractive. I thought of all of the changes that you would like for that one!”

“Why would I like losing my jeans?”

“I only took the tight-fitting jeans, or the ones that ride so low that people can see your butt crack, and the ones that are ripped,” my Mom said.

“So, most of them?” I asked with a sardonic grin.

“Exactly, and the short shorts that show off your bottom. You don’t have any reason to flaunt your little butt in public, dear. I know you want to date older boys and do sexual things but you are way too young for that sort of thing,” she said.

“MOM!” I protested. “is this about when you caught me with Steve a few weeks ago?”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” My Mom became disgusted when I reminded her about the time I gave Steve oral. I didn’t have to go into any detail about the encounter – she remembered it all too well. “It may be for the best if you break up with Steve. We will let you see him if he comes over and meets us, but I can’t let you go out to sex parties or whatever you were doing with him.”

“Sex parties?” I scoffed at the absurdity of the notion.

“All I know is that a friend of mine said her daughter came home from a party, and she smelled like vodka as well.”

“Which friend? Who?” I demanded to know who ratted me out.

“Molly, we aren’t going backward. You did what you did with Steve. You aren’t going to go out to things like that anymore.”

“Why? What did I do wrong? I just won’t have a social life any longer?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong; we are protecting you from doing things you aren’t ready to do,” My Mom began her explanation. “I mean, well, you obviously had sex with a boy, drank alcohol, and last night you were caught masturbating, but this is not a punishment. This is just a reset. You will have a social life, but you’ll do more wholesome things.”

“Neat-o, Meet the Beaver at the malt shop and go for a hayride? Where is my time machine to 1955?” I asked, my voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Molly, I know you think it’s square to go on hayrides, but that is precisely the kind of fun that I am talking about. I don’t know all of it – but we’ll find a Church youth group or arrange for you to go out with your cousins. You’ll start playing outside – building tree forts and playing freeze tag.”

“WTF?” I asked. My Mom frowned at me. “That wasn’t a cuss word, it was just an acronym,” I held up a finger to justify myself. “You can’t be serious about this. I don’t play freeze tag and build tree forts. I’ve never done stuff like that!”

“I know, but you are still young enough that you can get away with it! That’s the kind of stuff that Penelope and Willie did where they came from.”

“Yeah, because they lived in a time warp out in Bucksnort Nebraska or somewhere,” I groaned, kicking my feet in the bed angrily – hoping this was all some bad dream.

Penelope walked in at that precise moment, and I think she overheard me calling her hometown “Bucksnort” – which was a bit of an insult, and I felt ashamed of myself.

“I’ll give you two some privacy, I didn’t realize that you were in here, Ma’am,” my perfect cousin spun on her heel.

“You can stay, Penelope. I was just leaving,” My Mom stood up and looked down at me with disappointment on her face. “I came in here to tell you how proud I was that you stepped up this morning and gave doing chores a try. You didn’t scream, yell, cry, beg, or bargain. You just sucked it up and went outside and did what was expected of you. If you want the respect that comes with being an adult – that’s what adults do, Molly.”

My Mom left without another word, leaving me still sulking with my head in my pillow.

“We should make a lemonade stand,” Penelope suggested enthusiastically. “We could make homemade lemonade and sell two kinds! Sugar and sugar free! It would be fun. I saw some wood and junk we could probably use! We could be partners!”

I could have said something snarky, but I simply let out a groan to express how annoyed I was. The idea sounded like something out of a Peanut’s cartoon.

“I understand you are upset, but there is no point in wasting the day, Molly. My Mom talked to me as well but there is nothing we can do about our situation. We may as well make the best of it! I understand that you aren’t happy that Willie and I are invading your space, and now things are changing for you. They changed for me as well,” she explained.

I frowned – because I had zero sympathy for my cousin. I hadn’t thought about her situation at all until that moment.

“My father was my bedrock, a source of comfort and my role model of what a man is supposed to be. I was told that I may never see him except during visitation. My entire family as I knew it has changed, and I had to move away from my home. All the friends that I had in Bucksnort,” she offered a lemony grin as she subtly worked in my dig on her hometown.

“I don’t fit in here, and I know that, Molly. I see how you dress, and I’ve heard how you ride around in fast cars with boys. I didn’t think girls were really allowed to do stuff like that at our age. It sounded like something you only see in movies to me. My entire world was life on a farm outside of Aurora Nebraska – that was the big city to us. Now, I am here, and I feel like a fish out of water. I have to share a bed with you, and you snore,” she giggled a little as she said that last bit to let me know that she wasn’t super upset about it – but I conceded my cousin’s point.

“I am sorry, Penelope. I really hadn’t considered what it must be like for you. You seem so perfect, and you never complain. You walk around with your shoulder’s back and have perfect posture. I didn’t think anything bothered you. You don’t snore, and I don’t think you even fart!” I giggled.

“I toot, but I excuse myself and try to do it privately,” Penelope blushed and looked mortified confessing that she farted. “I am far from perfect, Molly. I try to do my best and not complain. What good would it do to complain? It doesn’t change anything, and anything worth doing is worth doing right. I don’t see why behaving myself, and good posture is such a bad thing?”

“It’s not; it’s just, well, it reminds me that I am not like you,” I admitted with chagrin.

“I can teach you better posture, and I am flattered you said that – but I am not a robot, Molly. I do have feelings. I am actually very sensitive. I also know that it seems unfair the boys get to supervise and check over our work outside. I could tell from your reaction to being sent outside with me that you felt like Albert should be doing yard work?”

“It’s guy work,” I explained – that should have been obvious to her. It was unfair to make us do it.

“Where I come from, girls do the gardening and the light stuff, and boys drive tractors when they are a little older than my brother. They do heavy lifting and hard work – but women have to carry their weight. You don’t have any tractors here – but Albert and Willie will have to do their share of things.”

“Do I get to come behind him when he does and grade his work?” I asked with a big grin.

“I don’t know about that, but I like having someone double-check my work. If you did it right, there is nothing for them to find, is there? So, it’s a good motivation to be thorough and finish the job.”

I learned that my cousin was full of sayings about jobs well done and the satisfaction of doing things correctly. She also believed that there was a place for everything, and everything should be in its place when she tidied up.

“Your Father, Willie, and Albert did us a favor by checking over our work and making sure it was right. I don’t take offense to that,” Penelope said that would be silly. “There are so many offensive things people can say and do that I would hardly consider any reaction other than gratitude to having my work checked for me.”

I didn’t get it -but I soon would. That afternoon was fairly uneventful, and we didn’t do a marathon of chores. In fact, it was pretty much as any normal weekend – except I didn’t get to go shopping or check my cell phone. I had to engage in conversations and do some light housework, but otherwise I felt I could get used to things.

I wasn’t a huge fan of my cousin’s wardrobe, but I found some things that weren’t half-bad to wear. There wasn’t anything provocative or sexy in her things. However, some stuff didn’t make me feel like Mary Poppins and was functional.

I found a pink blouse, and I continued wearing the shorts I had worn to do yard work. I wore some flats that I had before my Mom went through my closet and took about 90% of my stuff. I had been left with some makeup, but mostly earth tones and essential stuff. I kept my hair short and straight, so I didn’t need anything fancy to maintain that.

I missed having a push-up bra, and I felt like my nipples poked through my shirt and my family could see them through the material of the blouse. However, on the plus side, I got a thrill when my highly sensitive nipples rubbed up against the material and that was a nice distraction.

I was far too scared to play with myself to kill some time in the bathroom or my room. I didn’t want to repeat the same speech again that I had with my electric toothbrush. The fact that I couldn’t play with myself, or text Steve, or look at anything dirty online, meant that I should have had a day mainly without sexual thoughts.

The sudden absence of those distractions that I took for granted only amplified my desire for sexual gratification – I got horny. I wondered if that desperate feeling was what boys felt all the time.

I didn’t masturbate every day before that weekend, but there had never been a day since entering puberty when the option hadn’t been available to me. All I could think about by dinner time was playing with my pussy simply because the option as off the table.

The more I thought about it and couldn’t do it, the wetter I got. If I ever had a horny thought before that weekend, I could type it into Google and find a story, blog, or picture of it and satisfy my curiosity. Now, I found myself using my imagination to think about unsavory and naughty scenarios so that I do them in my mind – since I couldn’t get off to them in reality.

It felt pathetic and desperate to make up little fantasies in my head, but now I knew how that felt. After dinner, my cousin and I cleaned the kitchen thoroughly while the boys went to watch TV.

“This is so unfair,” I complained. “Why are we being punished?”

“I know it must seem like a punishment to have to do what I do,” Penelope replied stoically. “You think just being like me is awful, but I enjoy cleaning up. It is nice to contribute to the house, and it’s good that our parents trust us to do the job without being supervised. I think it would be worse not to be asked to do things because it means they don’t think you are capable of it.”

I took that to be an insult – she was implying that since I didn’t usually have to clean up, that my parents thought I was too incompetent to do it, or maybe that I was too much effort to teach how to do it.

That evening, I avoided Molly and kept to myself. I missed having my phone and texting my friends. I missed the way things were. I didn’t like wearing a sundress, and I blamed my cousin as the catalyst of change. I felt like if Penelope were at least miserable and agreed that life sucked because we had to clean up – I’d have someone to commiserate with. The fact she seemed to thrive with hard work, only made me feel guilty and lazy.

I noticed during dinner that Penelope and Willie completely cleaned their plates – they ate every morsel of food. They may have been really hungry, but I had a feeling it was expected of them. I rarely finished my plate.

After dinner, I walked down the hall near my father’s office on the first floor of our house. He had a small room that he used when he worked from home. It was dominated by a single desk, shelves of books and wires and electric chargers for everything. If you needed an AC cord for a Sony Walkman from twenty years ago – he probably had it in some bin somewhere.

I heard a slap, and then Penelope counting diligently, followed by the same slapping sound. I backtracked down the hall and hid in the doorway to have a look at what was going on.

My cousin Penelope was bent over with her palms pressed down on the desk. She was completely naked – even barefoot. Her white cotton panties were around her ankles, but the rest of her clothes were folded neatly on the desk.

My Aunt was standing behind her, using her hand to slap Penelope’s ass, while Penelope counted another stroke.

My parents stood next to Aunt Katy and observed studiously.

I was far too intrigued to walk away. I couldn’t imagine what my goody-two-shoes cousin had done to earn a spanking. It wasn’t something that I expected my parents to be involved in. My Mom had put us in the corner when we were little as a time out and threatened to make Albert and I put a bar of soap in our mouth when we were little and used a cuss word but never acted on it. She had never spanked either of us – and yet, she stood there passively and watched my cousin count out each one.

“Fifteen,” Penelope breathed as she spoke. Her butt was pink, and she was facing away from me – oblivious to the fact that I was watching.

“Are you going to continue to be a good girl, Penelope?” Aunt Katy asked in a low, stern voice as she smacked her daughter’s bare ass again. Penelope’s tight little ass didn’t jiggle or move.

“Yes, Ma’am! Thank you, Sixteen,” Penelope counted enthusiastically, like a soldier answering a drill sergeant. Her eyes and nose were red, and it looked like my cousin was sobbing. I almost felt sorry for her, but I resented Penelope because she was simply better than me at everything. I wanted to see her fall from grace and find out what she did to deserve a spanking.

I studied my parents’ expressions. My father was slightly shocked by what he was watching, and he seemed to look anywhere except directly at my cousin’s bare butt. I respected that. My Mom wasn’t particularly thrilled or delighted, but she didn’t seem upset either. I would describe her expression as morbid curiosity bordering on casual apathy.

Penelope’s Mom spanked her firmly, but not so hard that it made her daughter shake. It obviously stung – but it was far from abuse. There was a practiced technique in how Katy’s wrists snapped with precision each time she connected with her daughter’s bottom that made it obvious she had done this many times before.

When they reached twenty, Penelope reached behind her body and rubbed her ass to comfort herself. She stood up straight, “Thank you, Mommy!”

“You are welcome, Pudding,” my Aunt Katy said without a trace of malice or anger. I assumed that Penelope was forgiven after enduring twenty swats for whatever she had done wrong.
“ May I put my clothes back on, mother?" Penelope asked as she stood up straight. She didn’t try to hide herself in any way – brazenly stood there like it was no big deal to be standing in front of my dad with little tits out.
“Not just yet, Penelope. I want to ask your aunt and uncle if they have any questions," Aunt Katy replied firmly. My cousin had changed in front of me, but I’d never looked that closely at her body. I was still shocked Penelope had a hairless pussy.

No one else in my family batted an eye about it though – they acted like her nudity was the same as a dog or cat’s nudity.

Penelope didn’t balk or complain about the indignity of being nude while my parents and aunt were fully dressed, either. That wasn’t her way. She turned slightly toward the door. I noticed immediately that her nipples were stiff as a board, and she didn’t have a single pubic hair covering her vagina – not one.
I didn’t expect that. I assumed as a girl my age that Penelope had sprouted pubes – and that I would have at least seen a wispy little patch of blonde hairs between her legs. My cousin didn’t blush or make any attempt to hide her nudity.

"I still don't understand the point of this,” My dad began his question. “Your daughter hasn't done anything wrong. Isn’t this teaching her that it doesn’t matter what she does – she’ll get punished?”

Dad seemed rattled, confused and obviously disagreed with Penelope’s treatment. I didn’t like my cousin, but I sided with my father on that – my Aunt Katy just seemed like a bitch for spanking my cousin. She may be pretentious, condescending, and act like she is holier than thou – but she also tries really hard, enjoys helping, and stays positive all of the time.

"That's just it, Michael. I don't want Penelope to misbehave and do anything to deserve a spanking," My aunt explained sweetly. " There is no malice in how I spank my daughter’s behind. It’s simple discipline on a nightly basis to remind her of her place and prevent her from becoming uppity."

I imagined it would be incredibly humiliating to have to stand there in the nude while people talk ABOUT you like you aren’t even there, but being told they are slapping your butt to keep you from being ‘uppity’ had to feel even worse.

Yet, Penelope smiled and waited patiently, hands at her sides.

“Penelope, how did you feel about being spanked?” my Mom finally asked my cousin about her thoughts on what happened.

“I don’t mind it so much, Ma’am. It’s just twenty on the heiney,” Penelope answered good-naturedly without a trace of resentment in her voice. I wasn’t sure if she was acting or truly believed what she said. I would have been incensed.

“What’s the most you ever got on the heiney?” my Mom asked with a hint of chagrin on her face.

“Fifty, Aunt Carol,” Penelope blushed a little and rubbed her bottom to soothe the throbbing.

“What did you do to deserve that, Penelope?” her Mom asked her pointedly.

“I got caught masturbating, Ma’am,” Penelope blushed much harder and instinctively took her hands away from her bottom. I was elated to hear that even my goody two-shoes cousin was caught finger banging at least once – it meant she was human.

My parents seemed shocked, but my Aunt appeared more convinced that corporal punishment was a good idea. “Penelope’s butt isn’t still sore from that day, but she won’t forget that number or what she did wrong that day. It stings just enough to teach a lesson that actions have consequences and that naughty girls learn when their butts burn,” Aunt Katy explained, nodding her head at her daughter and asking her if she agreed.

“Yes, Ma’am, I am sorry I touched myself, that was shameful and perverted,” she admitted – clearly ashamed of herself. I wondered if the reason Penelope acted like she had a stick up her butt half the time was that she never popped her cork and the one time she got off – she got busted and spanked instead of pleasurable sensations.

“You learned your lesson, and you are forgiven,” my aunt assured her.

“Do you really think that is necessary for Molly?” my Mom asked. My entire body quivered when I heard my name. My parents had obviously been considering spanking me.

“I think having one set of rules for the girls is only fair and easier to manage, and it would be less confusing to the boys. I am not trying to tell you how to raise your daughter, but you can’t argue with results. My daughter wakes up every day thankful for what she is given and goes to bed knowing she has to do as she is told.”

None of this seemed fair, or less confusing to me. I also felt like my aunt DID want to lecture my parents on how to raise me – but I said nothing. My heart raced as I hid outside the door – eavesdropping and wondering what would happen next.

“I don’t want Molly to resent us, and she’s already bristling over the changes to the rules,” my Mom said.

“Does a toddler resent having to hold their mommy’s hand when they cross the street? Does a dog resent being put on a leash so they don’t run off? People need boundaries and limits, and right now Molly doesn’t respect any. She needs consequences and motivation, and having a little taste of a butt whooping nightly is a constant reminder to straighten up and fly right.”

“We just want Molly to stay our little girl for a bit longer,” my Dad finally spoke up. I wanted to grow up, but I thought it was sweet he wanted me to stay little. “We didn’t spank her when she was little, so I am not sure how this will help motivate her. Even if she was a perfect angel, you expect us to smack her little butt.”

“Yes, it’s an attitude adjustment, like taking out the trash, wiping your butt, or going to the dentist – it’s something you have to do that may be unpleasant but it pays off. It’s a gentle reminder of who is the boss and right now, I think Molly is the boss – or at least she feels she is.”

“Is there some other way besides hurting her?” my Dad asked.

“Spanking stings, Michael,” my Aunt explained. “It’s like a bitter pill to swallow, a few minutes of unpleasantness followed by the clarity of who is in charge and who is not. The physical sting doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the blow to the ego – that’s why I make Penelope strip down fully and present her dirty little bottom. I used to just allow her to lift her skirt and bend over, but I discovered keeping her naked embarrassed her and did the work for me – that way I don’t have to hit so hard to get the results that I wanted, and I can save my hand,” Aunt Katy joked that her daughter wouldn’t have to have such a hard spanking if humiliation did most of the work for her.

“I don’t want to embarrass my daughter,” Dad said.

“A little embarrassment can do more to topple pride and ego than the hardest whooping – I consider it a far more humane tool than the wooden cane,” my Aunt replied.

“You don’t seem very embarrassed to be naked,” My Mom made the observation to my cousin – like a question.

“There isn’t anything sexual or naughty about my being naked in front of you, no more than if I were at a doctor. You are my Aunt and Uncle, and you want the best for me. You’ve seen girly parts before – there isn’t anything special about mine, but I still get embarrassed when I have to strip down, and everyone else is wearing clothes. There just isn’t much I can do about it, so it’s best not to make a big deal out of it. I’d say the worst part is the affirmations my Mom has me do while I get a spanking.”

“Affirmations?” Dad asked for an explanation.

“I use two kinds of affirmations,” my Aunt held up two fingers. “The first is the questions you heard me asked. My rule is that when Penelope is asked a question, she is to answer it as completely and honestly as she can. I try to introduce reflective questions about what she learned, how she behaved, her attitude while she is concentrating on her spanking so that she doesn’t tune out what is happening. She has to be an active participant by responding to questions about what she did well and needs to do more of, and what she did poorly and needs to do better or stop doing altogether.”

My cousin actually began to blush, her pretty blue eyes searched the carpet as if she were looking for a hole to jump in.

“I would imagine she is an active participant in the spanking simply because she had to count each stroke,” my father half-joked.

“You would think, but I’ve discovered Penelope daydreaming and getting into a rhythm. I don’t spank hard, and I don’t want to spank harder – I find the reflective affirmations to be a useful tool, but I use them sparingly.”

“You mentioned a second kind of affirmation?” my Mom asked for an example.

“Penelope, give your Aunt an example of an affirmation that I may tell you to give.”

“I know that I look stuck up, and the way I carry myself can make people feel like I’m looking down my nose at them. I don’t want to be a person who makes others feel small. I will work on softening my expression and being more intentional in how I engage with people,” Penelope confessed.

“Very good,” my Aunt Katy was clearly pleased. She explained to my mother that she helps identify her daughter’s flaws and foibles and asks her to admit them out loud. “That’s the first step – acknowledging without making excuses. Then, admitting what harm your behavior is doing, and what you will do differently.”

“How often do you make your daughter do that?” Dad asked skeptically.

“I don’t make her do it; it’s not forced on her – but I guess about 15-20 minutes a day,” My aunt shrugged and looked at Penelope to confirm it with a nod. Penelope dutifully nodded in agreement that was about right.

“I don’t think you are stuck up, Penelope,” my Mom observed.

“Thank you, Ma’am. I try not to stick my nose up in the air and look that way, but I know that I still do it. The affirmations helped me be aware of my behavior. I don’t mind doing affirmations.”

“Well, you told me you don’t mind getting spanked on your bare bottom, too,” Mom quipped.

“I should have said that I don’t mind having my attitude adjusted, Ma’am. I wouldn’t want to be naughty and get spanked,” my cousin clarified.

“I use positive and negative reinforcement,” my Aunt added to her daughter’s point. “After the attitude adjustment or when Penelope gives a particularly truthful affirmation, then I praise her. If she has misbehaved recently, I might give her the same spanking or make her give an affirmation and apologize for what she did and then express my displeasure. They are two sides of the same coin.”

“You just said you don’t MAKE your daughter give affirmations,” Dad held up a finger to emphasize what he was saying and pointed out the inconsistency in my Aunt’s words.

“True, I don’t make Penelope do nightly affirmations. She does them because I tell her to do them. However, if she had misbehaved, then I might have had her ask Willie or her father to come and listen to her explain her behavior with an affirmation and apologize to them for any offense,” My aunt asked Penelope to repeat one of her more recent affirmations.

“I am supposed to present myself with class, refinement, and grace, but sometimes I am rude, crass, and careless with my words or behavior. I will practice more care in how I speak so that my words reflect both my mind and my heart,” Penelope recited her confession in a very casual, straightforward way.

“No, that isn’t what you said, and go ahead and stand in the affirmation position,” my Aunt chided her daughter.

Penelope raised her hands above her head and placed her palms flat on her hair. Then she spread her legs apart a shoulder’s width, chin up, and looking straight ahead, “I am supposed to present myself with class, refinement, and grace, but sometimes I am rude, crass, and careless with my words or behavior. I told my brother Willie to fuck off, and stop being such a prick, because I lost my temper and got angry with him. I realize that is not the appropriate behavior for a good sister, and I am sorry that I was uncouth and inconsiderate. I will practice more care in how I speak so that my words reflect both my mind and my heart and watch my temper around my little brother while demonstrating greater restraint and patience.”

“Much better,” My aunt wasn’t enthusiastic about Penelope’s more elaborate confession, but she wasn’t angry about it either. “Why didn’t you say that the first time when you were asked to provide an example of an affirmation, Penelope?”

“I was embarrassed about my behavior around Willie and afraid that my Aunt and Uncle would think I am a meanie-butt, Ma’am,” Penelope frowned and spoke in a baby voice. I could instantly see my Mom soften when she heard the voice – that was the one I used when I wanted something from her.

“Don’t try to manipulate your Aunt by talking like a little girl. You can give an affirmation about that to your Aunt and apologize to her,” my Aunt insisted.

“I am sorry, Aunt Carol, sometimes when I’ve done something that I am ashamed of, I will confess in a baby voice to make people feel sorry for me and not hold me accountable or let me have my way. I have to learn to stop relying on being cute, and I am sorry if I insulted your intelligence with my tone of voice. I have no excuse.”

“Awww,” my Mom found that admission of guilt endearing. “I would have taken you shopping for a new outfit if you used that voice on me. I love it! Molly used to talk JUST like that when she was little, and she still does.”

I blushed – my Mom may have just realized, as I did, that I fell back on that voice only when I was in trouble or wanted something from her.

“Well, I like it; I think it will be good for Molly,” my Mom said. I felt my butthole pucker involuntarily when she said that – I assumed she meant ALL of this would be good for me, including the spanking.

“Yeah, but how can we be sure she’ll even fall in line and do this,” Dad seemed far more reluctant but still willing to have me spanked.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? She’s been eavesdropping for a while now,” my Aunt Katy said, turning toward the office door and calling me out. You can stop hiding, Molly.”

A fresh wave of panic spread over me.

“How long have you been out there?” my mom was horrified when she discovered that my Aunt was right. There was no point in continuing to hide.

“Long enough to know that you plan to slap my bare butt and make me admit what a snotty brat that I am,” I decided to go on the offensive and confront them for plotting against me. Unfortunately, I sounded like a snotty brat, and I was grossly outnumbered. I could tell that my indignant reaction had only unified my parents with my Aunt in favor of what they were planning.

“It’s called tough love, and if you perceive yourself as a snotty brat or people see you that way, we want to help you,” my Aunt offered patiently.

I took a different approach. I apologized profusely for eavesdropping. “It’s just that you were in here talking about what you are going to do to me.”

“We spend a lot of time thinking about you and your behavior,” my mom was mildly annoyed. My father seemed genuinely disappointed in me, but he was too heated to say anything.

Penelope didn’t move to cover herself up, sneer, or look worried. She offered me a blissful smile and nodded with understanding. “I know you think this is a punishment, but the attention that my mom and your parents are giving us is a gift,” Penelope said.

I didn’t think it was a gift at all! I couldn’t have disagreed more. Penelope sounded like a crazy person to me - brainwashed.

“You should be punished, Molly, my Aunt clarified firmly. “You eavesdropped on adults. If you wanted to participate in our conversation, what should you have done?”

“Knocked,” I frowned, looking defeated.

“You knew what you needed to do instantly when I asked. You didn’t even have to think about it, Molly. Yet, you didn’t do it – you crept behind the door. Did you enjoy looking at your cousin's bare butt?”

“NO!” I frowned angrily at the insinuation.

“I think tonight is the night that we introduce your daughter to the concept of loving domestic discipline,” My Aunt told my parents. They didn’t debate or confer with one another. My parents agreed with my Aunt, and I could tell that it wasn’t up for discussion.

“Do as your Aunt tells you, and strip down, please,” my mom said firmly but calmly. My dad’s eyes told me that he wasn’t going to come to my rescue.

“I am going to be spanked every day, no matter what I did?” I asked as I started to fidget with my outfit.

“I can assure you that if you misbehave, you’ll know the difference between a consequence for your actions and something designed to instill a healthy respect for authority; think of maintenance spankings as paying off your bill a little each day or each week as opposed to one big bill to be paid at once.”
My Aunt expected me to fold everything up and put it on the table next to where Penelope had left her clothing.

“I didn’t run up a bill, and why do only Penelope and me need a so-called maintenance spanking?” I asked coyly.

“You are young girls, and we want you to stay that way for as long as possible. The spankings will remind you that you aren’t to run around like you own the house and can go and do as you please. Girls and boys are treated a little differently, but the boys have consequences as well.”

I felt that was complete nonsense, but I minded my tongue. There was no getting out of this.

I assumed they’d let Penelope get dressed, but she didn’t ask for her clothes back, and they didn’t offer. My parents also didn’t close the office door. It was unlikely, but there was still a possibility my brother or cousin Willie might come bounding through the downstairs hallway and catch a glimpse of my bare bottom.

I wasn’t used to being naked, and I was all elbows and knobby knees. I could tell when my Aunt saw my nipples that she was shocked – I have very puffy and overly large nipples.

[[[ image 03_molly.jpg goes here centered ]]]

I could also tell that she was shocked by the dark patch of pubes I had growing around my furburger. I had cultivated that hair and not trimmed it since I entered puberty. I was proud of it. I am short, and skinny and look young for my age. I had little tits, no curves, and a tiny butt – the pubes were the only proof I was mature enough for sex.

I awkwardly cupped my pussy with one hand and then used my arm to try to shield my nipples from view.

“There is no need for any of that, Molly,” My aunt made me take my hands away from my pussy. " We've all seen girl parts, and you don’t have anything different than Penelope. Stand there and stop touching yourself.”

When my aunt said that, I was stunned, my jaw dropping in disbelief. A wave of outrage surged through me, and every part of me wanted to protest, to defend myself—but I held my tongue and remained silent.

I felt like Penelope was smirking at me – but I also didn’t point that out. I had been smirking when she was getting her comeuppance, so fair was fair.

“You're just a girl. You don't need to have any modesty. You are barely sprouting boobs, but I am going to insist that you shave these dirty hairs down below. You obviously shave your legs; I want you to go higher than your thighs and shave everything below the waist completely! Pubic hair is unseemly and makes you look naughty,” my Aunt insisted as she stared at my pussy hair like it was the spawn of Satan.

I was outraged! How dare she tell me how to groom myself! My mom didn’t disagree with her, and my dad looked like he wanted to just stay out of that entire conversation.

“You are trying to look grown up, dear,” my mom observed calmly. “I agree with your Aunt – the hair has to go.”

I got the impression that my Aunt equated pubic hair with being loose and easy. My mom on the hand, seemed to just want me to look like a little girl.

“I will tolerate it for tonight, but tomorrow, every single hair will have to be removed, or I will take you to the bathroom myself and pluck each and every one of them out," My Aunt insisted firmly. She didn’t seem very sympathetic or understanding at all. Aunt Katy made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t going to take any shit. “You know how to shave, but you chose to grow out that dirty patch of girly hair – my son saw that when he opened the door and caught you playing with yourself!”

I felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over me as I remembered Willie’s shocked face when he looked right at my pussy. “Be thankful this is not a punishment, or I’d send Penelope to fetch my paddle,” Katy warned, as she guided me gently to bend over the desk.

"Bend over, Molly,” my Aunt pointed at the desk – eager to get a start on my punishment. “Hands flat on the desk, palms down, mouth closed, look straight ahead. legs slightly apart. You will count each stroke. Failure to count means that I will start over. Complaining and whining, especially vulgarities, will earn you additional spankings, and I will start over. I am sure you heard my lesson affirmations, but if not - if you are asked a question, you are to answer it completely and thoroughly. You must respond as explicitly and honestly as you can. Do you have any questions before we begin, Molly?" my aunt asked.

“Explicit?” I had heard that term in rap lyrics.

Molly, when I say ‘explicit,’ I mean complete, open, honest, and unfiltered. I want you to go beyond surface-level excuses and really admit to the ways you fall short. I don’t want you to be dishonest with yourself by leaving out important details. We’ll see right through any deception, and even if you do get away with some lies in the short term – you will eventually be found out. The pain and discomfort from the spanking tends to bring honesty to the surface,” my Aunt explained.

I looked over my shoulder at my Aunt and gave her a skeptical look.

“This isn’t about being dramatic or turning it into a joke—it’s about telling the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. If you tend to be controlling, say so if you make people feel small, own that. If you manipulate situations to your advantage, don’t sugarcoat it. Explicit means laying it all out there, no hiding behind half-truths or pretty words, Molly."

I quivered a little, and I am sure I looked nervous. I felt trapped, and even though I wasn’t the only one who was naked – I felt vulnerable. I was bent over and facing away from my parents, but anyone walking past the door to the office would have been able to see right into my butthole and vagina.

The additional component of expecting total honesty scared me as well. I wasn’t prepared for that and hadn’t given it any thought.

“It’s just a light spanking, Molly. Don’t be nervous; it’s not the end of the world. You are expected to drop your pride and vanity, and accept it. Can you do that, or are you going to be stubborn? Because I can turn up the heat if needed,” My Aunt warned me.

I nodded to indicate that I would not resist and maintained my position, back almost parallel with the desk but slightly arched.

“I expect you to answer my questions, not just shake your head. I would expect you to say ‘Yes Ma’am, I will behave myself and give this a try without complaint’ or ‘No Ma’am, I am going to be a hard-head and make you roast my bottom before I finally realize there is no point in being a little brat’.”

It sounded ridiculous – like I’d have to stroke my aunt’s ego. I decided to play along. “Yes, Ma’am, I will be a good girl and not make a fuss.”

I don’t think my parents or Aunt were impressed or pleased because my tone was lukewarm and distant.

“You will learn to say it with conviction so that I actually believe you,” my Aunt slapped my ass cheek with her hand. I honestly expected more from it – like an explosion of pain. Instead, I felt the jiggle of my butt and heard the smack, but otherwise it wasn’t that bad.

“One?” I counted.

“Yes, excellent, Molly. Let’s do ten tonight and see how you do,” my Aunt smiled at me. She spanked my butt a second time on the other cheek. It was very mild. It was far from pleasant – more annoying than anything else. It was humiliating to be spanked, but not painful at all.

“Two,” I counted.

“You are doing good. Did that sting?” she asked as she brought her hand down again and smacked my butt.

“Three,” I counted with a little more confidence. “Not really,” I admitted.

The fourth swat was much harder and firmer; my Aunt twisted her wrist a little but after the first three I was ready for it. It stung very lightly. “I appreciate the honesty, but this is not an informal conversation, Molly. I expect you to address me as Ma’am, and you will address your father as Sir when he is doing this.”

I gulped and swallowed hard as my Aunt smacked my butt firmly a fifth time. I had a sudden visual of my father and his calloused hand coming down on my ass. He was a lot stronger than my Aunt, and it was weird to think of my father’s skin connecting with the skin on my ass.

“This is your first time getting a maintenance spanking, Molly but you eavesdropped on Penelope long enough to know that you have to count each stroke,” my Aunt waited for me to count another swat on my bare ass. The look on her face implied that I was being obstinate and refusing or too dumb to know what I should do – either way it felt degrading.

“Oh, um, Six, I mean, Five, Ma’am,” I answered – in a fluster. I had been lost in thought and got confused while thinking about my Dad spanking me in the future.

My mom put her hand on my shoulder to console me. “You are doing really good, Molly. I am proud of my little girl.”

I pursed my lips into a frown. I didn’t want my mom to patronize me. The indignity of being naked was the embarrassing part of this ordeal. The slap on my butt was probably turning it pink – but it was far from what I imagined when I thought of spanking.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I replied as my Aunt brought her hand down on my bottom again – just as firmly as the last couple.

“It’s Ma’am to men and Sir to men when you are in this position, Molly. You’ll address your mother with respect when you are being spanked, and you should address her with her respect all the time,” my Aunt lectured me.

“Sorry, Six!” I wasn’t sure whether I should seethe and hiss like it hurt. I didn’t want them to think that I was enjoying it or not concerned about the spanking and turn things up a notch. Penelope hadn’t hissed or seethed either. I assumed that was because she was such a perfect little snowflake.

I came to realize by the tenth swat that each of these slaps on the butt was going to be fairly light and tedious. My Aunt stopped and examined my ass. It felt abrupt – like the cadence of her slaps stopping had interrupted something. “You’ve done very well, can you take ten more?”

I didn’t expect to be asked the question, and I didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, I didn’t particularly want to be there or embrace any of this. On the other, this wasn’t exactly torture. I didn’t want my Aunt to think that I was going to limp if she kept it up.

“Yes, Ma’am, you can continue,” I sighed.

“Very good, Molly,” my Aunt was thrilled by my response. My parents seemed delighted as well. I blushed – why had I done agreed to let her continue? I assumed perhaps that saying I wanted to stop might also be a trick and I had passed some test. I probably saved myself an hour of arguing by just letting my Aunt get on with it.

After the fifteenth swat, I could feel a tingling sensation kick in – tiny little dots of pleasure radiated around my butt cheeks. I wouldn’t call it orgasmic or sexual, and at the time, I knew nothing about dopamine. However, it was my body’s reaction to the spanking. My brain sent signals to my ass to deal with any discomfort and releasing endorphins and dopamine.

“Molly, are you going to complain tomorrow night when we have to do this again?”

“No, Ma’am,” I groaned and counted sixteen – there was no real physical pain even though the slap was crisp, and made my butt jiggle. It was all in my head – the feeling of being demeaned and humiliated by the spanking was what stung. The feeling of being treated like a naughty little girl and having my bare butt exposed to my family was deeply embarrassing and that stung as well.

“Good girl, you’ve done very well. Have you ever been spanked before?” she asked as she gave me a slightly harder tap on the ass cheeks – more to the center of my crack. Aunt Katy was clearly demonstrating she could go a little harder if she wanted to do it.

“No! Seventeen!” I admonished my Aunt for insinuating that I’d ever been spanked.

“I ask because your mother told me that you were sexually active, and some girls do this with their boyfriends. You are holding up really well, Molly.”

My ass felt warm, and my nose was probably a little red, but overall I was no worse for the wear. I thanked her politely.

“Mom, why would a girl ask her boyfriend to give her a maintenance spanking?” Penelope asked.

“Don’t blather and interrupt; this isn’t about you right now, Penelope. You can stand there and hold your question until I am finished,” Katy frowned as she gave me another firm swat. I felt strangely empowered – like I had the floor and all the attention and Penelope envied me. That seemed weird to admit to myself, but it was probably a combination of the endorphins and the new experience working overtime on me.

“Yes, Ma’am, sorry,” Penelope apologized.

After we go to twenty, my Aunt told me to stand up. “You can rub your bottom if you need to,” she offered knowingly. My butt was a little sore and probably pink, but I resisted the urge with a shrug.

My Aunt seemed impressed, and looked at my Mom – indicating she should speak.

“Molly, we love you. You know this attitude adjustment was for your own good, right?” she asked with a look of concern for my well being on her face.

“Yeah, I love you and Dad as well; I don’t know how this was for my own good, but it’s over now, right? Can I get dressed?” I asked. I suddenly regretted not rubbing my sore ass when I was offered the opportunity. Now that the spanking was over, all I could think about was how satisfying rubbing my aching butt would be.

“You will come to understand why it’s for your own good, but only through swallowing a bitter pill night after night, Molly. You will be told when you can get dressed. You being naked right now is no different than taking a bath or going to the doctor for an exam. It’s a utility, but may I ask if you have dirty or perverted thoughts?”

I wasn’t, and I admitted that. I didn’t think it was any of my Aunt Katy’s business.

“Good girl,” My aunt patronized me for being a goody-goody like her daughter.

Oddly, my pussy started to drip a little right after that. I felt like being asked if I was turned on had ironically managed to turn me on.

My father asked if I had any questions about what just happened.

“Nope, you made it clear. I have to get my bare butt slapped, but boys don’t, and somehow it’s going to make me a better person,” I shrugged.

“Don’t get flippant with me,” Dad warned. I wanted to escalate things and ask him if he planned to spank me if I had, but I decided to tone things down.

“It’s perfectly reasonable to question this; I did as well when I first learned about this parenting technique,” my Aunt admitted. I wondered who she learned it from. Doctor Phil or Doctor Pepper?

“You did really well,” Penelope put her hand on my shoulder after that – as a sign she respected me.

It was a perfectly friendly and natural touch from another girl but it involuntarily excited me none the less. I shivered a little.

“You girls can get dressed; I want hugs from both of you now,” Katy told us. I wasted no time putting my outfit back on.

“That outfit looks lovely on you, Molly,” my Aunt observed before adding that she remembered when she bought it for Penelope. I thought she might be about to add an insult, but she simply said, “I am glad you girls are sharing clothes now. That will bring you closer together and reduce any petty jealousies about who gets to wear what.”

I supposed that was right. If Penelope wasn’t permitted short-shorts and mini-skirts and she really wanted to wear them, then she might have seen it as unfair that I did. I just didn’t think of Penelope as the type who would complain.

I hugged my parents and my Aunt, even Penelope – which felt strange at first. Our puffy little nipples touched through our shirts. I wasn’t sure why the hugging ritual was part of the spanking, but I went along with it. It reminded me of what they do at the end of Saturday Night Live when they wrap up the show.

There was another reason for it though, my Aunt felt that it meant there were no hard feelings and that we were to leave what was said and done behind after the spanking – like a reset. She told me as much as she walked with me down the hall after it was over.

I wanted my Aunt to STOP explaining the spanking, because I was afraid that Willie or Albert would overhear and I’d have been mortified for them to find out. There was a bit of a hierarchy with the humiliation in the house, and I felt like Willie and Albert discovering I got spanked ranked higher than my parents knowing about it – and being okay with it.

They gave us permission to shower, and I reluctantly shaved my pussy for the first time in my life – as bald as I could make it. I left some stubble and a few patches of hair in tiny cracks and crevices of my pussy that I was afraid I’d knick if I tried to shave them.

I looked down at my pubic hair like I was saying goodbye to something that had taken me my entire life to grow. It felt like I was losing something, and now that I was shaved bald, I had been reset to a little girl.

It was kind of cool, though; I have to admit – that I liked being able to feel my pussy lips without hair on them. I gave myself a quick finger fuck before I left the shower – I may have been forbidden from masturbating but who was going to know?

I had to sleep in my cousin’s long Strawberry Shortcake nightgown and white cotton panties. My mom had taken all the sexy stuff I had, and I didn’t want to wear just panties to sleep in. I went without a bra simply because I was so flat-chested that I really didn’t need a bra, and I only wore padded bras to bed to flatter myself.

My cousin yawned, her long blonde hair braided into pigtails, as she entered our shared bedroom. She was wearing a My Little Pony nightgown featuring a peach-colored horse and the caption “Friendship is Magic.”

“Friendship is magic,” I read from her shirt with a smirk. I felt like my cousin and I had gone through something weird together, and somehow that brought us a little closer. We both had to endure the humiliating spanking, and that made us partners or cell mates or something.

“Oh, do you watch the show? Applejack is my favorite, but I also love PinkyPie, Twlight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, and even Derpy Hooves!"

“I am definitely a Derpy Hooves fan,” I joked. I had never watched the cartoon and had no idea who the characters were, but I found the name silly and self-deprecating.

“Yay! That’s another thing that we have in common!” my cousin performed a little celebratory dance in our small room.

“What’s the other thing? Sisters in the sore bottoms club?” I joked.

“Didn’t you like the hug at the end of the spanking? I saw you smiling. That’s my favorite part of it,” she admitted as she climbed into bed with me.

“Favorite part? You mean there are other parts you like?” I scrunched my nose in disgust as my cousin snuggled in behind me. The bed was too small for us not to accidentally touch arms or legs, but we didn’t spoon or snuggle.

“Why do you have to act like it’s so bad to be spanked? It was over in a flash,” Penelope clearly thought I was protesting way too much, but I think she wanted to know how I felt. “Is your bottom really sore?” Penelope her voice laced with genuine concern and sympathy for me – which made me feel bad. I was no worse for the wear. If anything, the aftershock felt mildly satisfying. I periodically rubbed my butt while I rested on my tummy in the bed.

“No, not really. Is yours?”

“Yeah, do you want to kiss it?” she teased playfully. That was a side of Penelope I hadn’t seen before. It seemed that going through this with her had also made her feel more comfortable around me.

“You’d have to take the corn cob out of it first,” I replied with a wry grin and a snicker.

“How did you know I like to stick corn cobs up my ass?” Penelope asked, abruptly shifting to a deadpan expression. When she saw my stunned face, she laughed and told me it was a joke. “You seem to think we are sexual deviants or something. It’s really not that weird to be spanked by my mom.”

I didn’t know what to think of my cousin. I didn’t think she was a nympho, and I didn’t sexualize spanking – but I did sexualize having to be naked. I did have naughty feelings about the spanking that I received – but I was still processing them.

The spanking was so light that there had been no pain, and because I hadn’t done anything wrong, and because they only spanked my cousin and me, I had so many questions in my head. I felt like if you were going to spank someone, you’d want to make it hurt so they remembered it.

All that build-up to being “spanked”, and all I felt after it was over was a rosy, warm sensation around my posterior that wasn’t erotic. It was more like a light, pleasurable throbbing.

“It’s pretty weird,” I assured her and said that there were no circumstances where I’d be bragging to my friends that I got spanked.

“I understand that, although I’d rather you be more explicit and descriptive. Weird doesn’t tell me much. We’ll work on your vocabulary to equip with you the tools to be less vague about what may be an issue or concern, Molly. I just hope that you know it’s for our own good and not because our parents are meanies who just want to turn your butt red. It’s a firm and gentle reminder that we are supposed to be good girls and what could happen if we aren’t.”

“How about they just wait until we do something naughty and then punish us?” I asked snarkily, adding, “You never do anything wrong anyway, so this is probably the only way you’d ever get spanked.”

“Not true; I even admitted I got caught playing with myself,” my cousin countered. “If we do something wrong, then we’d be punished. This is more like a gentle reminder that my mom is the boss. It really wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“It was weird,” I repeated my earlier assessment.

“It’s weird living here, sharing a bed with you, seeing you wearing some of my favorite clothes,” my cousin explained patiently. She could seem naïve at times, but there were times, like when we were talking in the dark at night, that she sounded very down-to-earth and practical. “You act like it’s such an indignity to get spanked, but they took the time to explain it to you, and my mom does it with love. She isn’t abusing you. I hope you know that.”

“I know…it’s not abuse,” I agreed. It definitely didn’t feel like that. “It just seems unfair. Why don’t the boys get spanked?”

“Oh, cheese and crackers,” Penelope pouted angrily, fluffed her pillow with her fist, rolled over on her side to face the wall, and pushed her butt against mine – touching through our nightgowns. “You won’t be satisfied until you see Willie and Albert get spanked on their derrieres, will you? boys have different standards and expectations, and that’s just how that is. They get to be football stars, and we get to be cheerleaders. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”

I was quiet for a while and asked after a few minutes, “Would you even want to be a cheerleader? They wear mini-skirts,” I reminded her that her mom forbade that.

Penelope flipped over enthusiastically. “I would love to be a cheerleader, maybe when my boobs come in – I think Mom’s issue with your mini-skirts is that you show off your butt so much.”

I blushed; “My butt didn’t hang out!”

“For a girl that freaks out about being naked, you sure do want to show off your soft little butt cheeks, and you seem proud enough of your little boobies to wear low cut tops!” she smiled teasingly. I bumped my butt into hers playfully and she bumped back. We both giggled until we fell asleep.

It felt nice - sisterly. The next day began the same except there was no yardwork required. We helped with breakfast, and cleaned up the kitchen after it was over. It was the first time my mom ever expected me to do any work in the kitchen.

Honestly, I’d never even put my empty glass in the sink after I finished a meal. I have to admit that it did feel somewhat rewarding to clean up. I felt more mature, even though I was wearing a pink and white Strawberry Shortcake nightgown.

My brother and Willie didn’t tease me about what I had on. I think that’s partially because Penelope wore something similar, and they were used to it. It was sheer but not see-through, so in a way, I was almost naked at the table in just a really long shirt and panties.

Shortly after breakfast, my cousin was changing her clothes. She had taken off her night gown, and was wearing nothing but a pair of white cotton panties. She was about to say something to me when the door to my room opened.

I was shocked because my mom usually knocked, and I fully expected her to be the one to walk through the door

I gasped when Willie walked in like he belonged in our room. Albert was right behind him with his hands in pockets - he knew better than to burst into my room unannounced, but obviously felt embolded by my cousin. “Hey, me and Albert want to go play Cowboys and Indians. We need some Indians!”

The way he said it – wasn’t a request. It could have been, but he just blurted out that we were now volunteered as his Indians. I wasn’t keen on that, and I wasn’t keen on playing outdoors. I had pretty much skipped that part of growing up and remained indoors. My little brother didn’t have any boys his age around the neighborhood, so he didn’t go outdoors much either.

My cousin turned around to face the boys as the walked in, I didn’t see her face. I assumed she would cover her tits and yell at them for not knocking. “Sure!” Penelope replied without covering her tits. “What should we wear?”

My cousin didn’t even ask me. I assumed my mom would tell me I had to do it if I said no.

“Go like you are, we are just going out in the woods,” Willie sounded like he was joking but he wasn’t.

“I can’t, we aren’t in Nebraska. The neighbors would freak out,” Penelope assured him.

“Why? Wouldn’t be any different than me and Albert walking around with a shirt. Both of you don’t have any titties to speak of,” Wilile observed, looking right at me. I didn’t feel insulted, as much as I felt humiliated that my breast size was being ranked.

“It’s just how it is, Willie; girls and boys are different,” she shrugged and went to the closet to ask what he thought of a particular brown shirt. “This looks like something an Indian squaw would wear, doesn’t it?”

“Sure,” her little brother shrugged. Penelope tossed it to me, and found another one that he might like and put it on. I stood there holding the shirt.

“I am not changing in front of you,” I folded my arms stubbornly. Willie and Penelope both sighed as if they thought I was being ridiculous.

“What’s the big deal?” Penelope asked. “You changed in front of me plenty of times, and surely you have bathed with your brother?”

“Yeah, when I was little,” I frowned angrily. Willie and Albert turned to face me. I could tell that Albert didn’t care to see me take my top off, and Willie looked mostly amused by my reluctance.

“Okay, and what changed since then? You don’t see it as sexual or naughty when you change in front of me, do you?” she asked rhetorically. “ Did you suddenly start seeing your brother sexually? I’ve seen Willie’s pecker enough to pick it out of a lineup of ten boys, and I’ve never once had a single sexual thought about it any more than I would a dog walking down the street with his balls hanging low.”

Suddenly, my embarrassment turned into a feeling of being demeaned by having my sexual parts compared to a dog’s tits.

“Oh jeez, we can see your little pokeys right through your shirt anyway,” Willie turned around, folded his arms, and faced away from me. Albert did the same when Willie did it.

I blushed and looked down at my chest – my nipples were stiff, and they had ballooned up. I quickly took my long nightgown off and started to change.

“You have puffy fat nipples and tiny little titties; why would you be so worried anyone might see them?” Willie asked as he kept his back to me.

“It’s just not right to barge in here; what happened to knocking?” I asked.

“That was the bathroom; now I have to knock to go into my sister’s room?” Willie scoffed like I was asking him to get a license to make French toast.

“We used to share a bedroom back home, so Willie has always been free to come in my room any time he wanted because it was his room too,” Penelope shrugged.

I finished changing, and as we left the house, my parents asked us where we were going.

“Out to play in the woods, Mom,” Albert said proudly.

“You are going too, Molly?” my mom seemed genuinely pleased to hear it. I was surprised it was so easy to make her happy by just walking out the door.

“Yeah,” I shrugged. I wanted to say something about getting bonus points to prevent a spanking, but I didn’t want Willie and Albert to find out about it. “I don’t have any choice, do I?” I assumed that Penelope didn’t because of how Willie had phrased the question.

“Of course you do, Molly,” My mom and the others looked at me strangely. “You aren’t forced to go enjoy this sunshine and have fun being a kid. You’ll regret not doing it when you are older and can’t get away with doing it, but no one is making you leave the house.”

I blushed, feeling dumb that I had been such a sour puss, and politely accepted my mom’s advice as we left the house.

It was a warm day, and the woods behind our house smelled like pine and dry dirt. It wasn’t much of a forest—just an empty lot with some well-worn trails—but to Albert and Willie, it was the wild frontier. I suppose it was to me as well.

Empty Beer bottles, and asphalt roads running alongside empty lots with dumpsters in them broke the immersion, but it was close enough.

The boys led the way, puffing their chests out, roleplaying cowboys on the trail looking for our war party. “The Cherokee will be out looking for their lost squaws. Keep an eye out, Albert.”

“I am not Albert! I am Deadeye,” Albert clarified.

Willie giggled. “I am Ninja black,” Willie decided on an anachronistic handle. I suppressed my desire to tease him.

“What are our names, Willie?” Penelope asked loudly.

“Pocahontas and Pocahontas two,” Willie decided without much thought.

“Oh, you always say I have to be Pocahontas! I am Star Dancer!” Penelope did a little dance excitedly. She asked me what my Indian name was going to be.

I decided to be funny and say Pocahontas because I didn’t really care.

“YES!” Wilie loved that; he pumped his fist like he just won a game.

“Why did you do that, you could have picked any name?” Penelope whispered with a frown.

“I don’t care,” I shrugged. I wasn’t even sure why I had agreed to play outside. “Don’t you have to do whatever he tells you anyway?”

“I don’t mind doing what Willie asks me to do, but he isn’t the boss of me,” Penelope whispered to me while the guys carried on about scouts, tracks, and wild outlaws who might be tracking us.

“He walked in while you were changing and told us we had to be Indians and you didn’t argue,” I pointed out.

“Not everything has to be an argument,” Penelope looked at me with a knotted brow. “If Albert asks you to pass the salt, does that make him the boss of you?”

“No, but that would be a situation where he ASKED me to do it,” I made the distinction.

“Oh, Cheese and Crackers,” my cousin whispered in frustration. “He doesn’t have to ask me with pretty please on top to go outside and play. I like doing stuff to make other people happy and I like playing. He was just saying they need some Indians. You do what your parents tell you to do and don’t make a big deal out of it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but not for Albert,” I stuck to my guns.

“Would the world suddenly end if Albert told you to do something and you just did it? Just to see the smile on his face and to be nice?” Penelope asked me sweetly. It was actually a good point, even though I didn’t want to admit it.

Penelope and I trailed behind, exchanging looks while our supposed captors marched ahead, too caught up in their own game to check on us much. When we reached a small clearing, Willie clapped his hands. "Alright, this here’s where we make camp," he announced, putting on his best cowboy drawl. Albert went along with it, kicking at the dirt like he was settling in for the night. Penelope leaned toward me, her braids bouncing.

"Oh, this is the part we need to escape," she whispered, then giggled. Before I could even think about what she meant, she grabbed my wrist and took off running. At first, I wasn’t sure what was happening – but soon Penelope and I both started giggling to one another as we dashed away to freedom.

"Hey, them Injuns are getting away!" Albert shouted, and just like that, the chase was on. My heart pounded as I sprinted after Penelope, her blonde hair flying behind her. The boys gave chase, hollering and laughing. I heard Willie make a "pshaw" noise, pretending to fire. Penelope dodged, throwing herself sideways like she had just barely missed a bullet. At first, I thought it was silly, but then another "pshaw" came right toward me, and before I knew it, I was twisting out of the way too, grinning despite myself.

We darted through the trees, weaving and laughing, but the boys were fast, cutting us off at every turn. Before I realized it, they had cornered us near an old, half-fallen log. Willie stood tall, smirking as he leveled an imaginary gun at us. "We outsmarted you squaws," he teased, his finger cocked like a pistol. "No point in running away, too dumb to escape—we’ll catch you every time."

I caught my breath, pushing my messy red hair back. Then, out of nowhere, the thought hit me. "What if I had a gun?" I blurted, lifting my hand and forming my own fingers into a quick-draw pistol.

“Blam! Blam!” Willie fired at my finger and then blew on the top of his finger. “I just shot your pistol out of your hand!”

“What? Who gets to decide that happened?” I frowned, but the others looked at me like I was nuts. “Fine,” I shrugged and pretended the gun was on the ground.

“Take their shoes and tie them up, Deadeye,” Wilie instructed my brother. I cringed at the thought of being tied up, but my cousin knelt down and took off her shoes and shocks.

“It’ll just make us run faster,” she bragged.

“You need the edge because you are girls, Pocahontas,” her brother snarled as he took the shoes and neatly put them to the side with the socks on top of them.

Penelope snarled right back. “I am not playing if you call me Pocahontas. That’s Molly’s name. I am Star Dancer!” she stuck out her lower lip stubbornly.

“Get some proper rope, and not the imaginary kind,” he said as his sister turned her back to him, placed her hands behind her back, and let him tie an imaginary cord around her wrist.

“Come on, Pocahontas,” my brother encouraged me to do the same thing as Penelope.

“You are really going to make me go barefoot?” I asked him as I brushed the hair out of my eyes and glared at my little brother.

“We aren’t making you,” Albert mumbled before looking at Willie for backup.

“You were captured, so we'll tie you up. Now give us your shoes,” Willie seemed to think that was the game.

“Please don’t make everything hard,” Penelope frowned at me, continuing to keep her hands behind her back as if they were really bound.

I gave out an exasperated sigh, took off my shoes and shocks, and put my hands behind my back. “I have to tie them,” Albert insisted on pantomiming it.

“We should tie their ankles together,” Willie decided, and just like that I had to stand with my ankles touching as the boys pretended to lash our feet together.

“Okay, that should hold them; let’s go scouting for some grub, Deadeye,” Willie said in a fake southern accent. “Don’t try not escape or next time it’ll be worse,” he promised.

Just as soon as the guys disappeared into the brush, my cousin pretended to work her way free and went so far as to fake untie me from the invisible strands. “C’mon, let’s go that way,” she hurried me away.

“What’s the point of this game?” I asked as we dashed in the opposite direction the boys had gone.

“What do you mean? to have fun,” she smiled as we ran like two crazy girls without a destination.

“How do we win?” I clarified my question.

“Win?”

“Yeah, points. Is there a way we can capture them and get points or something? Or do we just automatically lose?” I asked.

“Nobody wins or loses; it’s just cowboys and Indians,” Penelope looked at me as if I were an alien asking how human babies were made. She couldn’t understand how I didn’t know the answer to my own question.

The guys found us again and ran after us. They were chanting Indian whooping sounds “Hi-Yi-Yi, Hi-Yi-Wooh, Wooh, Wooh,” type of thing. I wanted to yell that we were the Indians, and we should be doing that.

It didn’t have to make sense to my cousin. She giggled playfully, dodged under trees. All without concern for not having on shoes, and socks. Our feet got dirty in the black soil, and our skirts slowed us down.

Penelope seemed to enjoy being chased. She poured on the speed and insisted that I do it as well. We made it to the edge of the woods. We could have easily kept going out onto the parking lot and found safety – split up.

“That’s the boundary, we can’t leave the woods,” She stopped me.

“Says who?” I asked.

“That’s the rules,” I heard Willie say as he and my brother ambushed us from behind a bush.

“Stick em up, Pocahontas,” my little brother said, sticking his finger in my back as if it were the barrel of a six-shooter. I was breathing heavily from all the running. It was strangely exciting to dodge and dash through the brush. It was also frustrating to have no place to go and no goal or way to win.

I turned around and put my hands up when Penelope did.

“Let us go,” she pleaded. She could have run away – their guns were imaginary.

“Star Dancer, you will make a beautiful bride for someone back at the Fort,” Willie approached. Penelope sniffled and played along as he took her wrist and raised it above her head. He lashed it with imaginary rope to a nearby tree and did the same to her other wrist.

My brother did the same thing to me. I felt so silly standing there with my arms raised up over my head, and out to the side.

“We’ll have to teach you two a lesson that escape is not possible,” Willie decided. He yanked Penelope’s skirt down to her ankles, revealing her white cotton panties. We were probably only ten feet from an empty lot, and from there it was a quick dash to the road and back to our house. I could have easily escaped.

“No, don’t take my pretty skirt,” Penelope pleaded, but she actually kicked it off into the brush to prevent it from getting dirty.

“Sorry Pocahontas,” Albert took my skirt down as well. I flashed him a seething look. I could have smacked my little brother, but I didn’t do that either.

“Just be glad we don’t take your panties, and tops, Star Dancer,” Willie warned that the next time we escaped that would be our fate. “Now, I will teach you a lesson!” he bent his sister forward and began to play the drums on her butt cheeks – softly, not hard.

“Stop, stop, Willie,” Penelope giggled playfully, clearly amused by what he was doing. She kept her arms out to the side like they were still tied to the branches above her head.

“What?” Wilie stopped, smacking her butt hard once and reminding her that his name was Ninja Black.

“Ninja Black, I am tied to the tree, so I can’t bend over like this!”

She had no problem with her brother smacking her bottom; Penelope was just protesting the lack of realism.

“Let’s say the rope stretches really far,” Willie offered it like he was bargaining.

“Can’t we just get actual rope?” Penelope asked.

“I asked mom, and she said no,” Willie explained.

“Did she say why?” Penelope asked, still bent over slightly.

“Do you ask mom to tell you why when she says no?” Willie asked as he continued playing drums on his sister’s butt while she held her hands out.

“That tickles, Willie!” she giggled.

My brother looked at me as if he were seeking permission to do the same. The sour face that I gave him told him I wouldn’t be laughing.

Thankfully, we heard my Aunt yell that lunch was ready and tell them to come home. “Oh shoot, where are our shoes?” Penelope asked her brother as she stood up – completely unbound by imaginary rope.

“I dunno,” he grinned and dashed off with Albert. He left us to put on our skirts and find our shoes and socks.

“So basically, you let your brother spank you?” I asked once we were alone and tracing our path.

“What? that wasn’t spanking! We were just playing cowboys and Indians,” she shrugged it off as we back tracked our path to find our shoes and socks.

“He was tapping his hand on your butt!”

“Oh, that wasn’t anything; it’s just playing around,” Penelope shrugged dismissively.

“If it wasn’t anything, could we hunt the boys and spank them when we catch them?” I said.

Penelope placed a finger under her chin and contemplated. “I don’t know. Don’t you like getting chased? I would not want to be the bad guy.”

“They basically tied us up, and stripped us,” I explained.

“Are you worried about being seen in your panties? If we were at the beach they would have seen more than that, and from what I’ve been told – you like going without panties under your micro miniskirts,” she chided me.

I rarely ever went commando, and only when I was trying very hard to get the attention of a boy or on a lark.

“Playing in the woods is not a sexual thing if that’s what you are worried about,” Penelope found our shoes where we left them, and carried hers back to the house. I did the same.

“Willie has tied you up with real rope?” I asked as I followed my cousin out of the woods.

“Yeah? Haven’t you ever been tied up before? Haven’t you ever seen those cartoons where the mustached villain ties the pretty girl to the train tracks and wanted to be her?”

“I’ve seen them but never wanted to be in that situation,” I said with certainty.

“It’s fun, it doesn’t hurt, and Willie isn’t going to leave you tied up if that’s what you are worried about. He thinks it’s an excuse to be lazy, because we can’t move when we get tied up,” she shrugged again like that was perfectly normal.

I didn’t keep asking questions during lunch, but my mind was spinning with questions about how often they played those kinds of games. My mom was thrilled that I had gone outside and saw nothing odd about me carrying my shoes when I came home.

“Did you have fun?” my mom asked.

I wasn’t going to tell her about the weird encounter because I was still processing what just happened and was a little embarrassed about it. “Yeah,” I said.

“We can probably find some suitable shorts for you girls to wear if you are going to play in the woods,” she offered.

“No, they are girls, they should wear skirts. The ones they have on are meant to get dirty,” my Aunt countered as she slid a perfect grilled cheese sandwich on my plate. It smelled good, with a perfect buttery brown crust on the bread.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Penelope dug into the sandwich when she got it.

“Don’t be such a little piggy,” her mom chided her to wait for everyone else to start eating. Once she and my mom sat down after making sure everyone had drinks and pickles to go with their sandwiches, we began to eat.

We were kept busy doing chores around the house while the boys went back outside to play. At one point, I managed to talk to my brother when no one else was around.

“I can’t believe you are siding with Willie in all of this,” I scoffed. There were so many reasons I was upset with Albert. We were close but not super close – I just didn’t expect him to become Willie’s shadow.

“What are you talking about?” he seemed puzzled that I’d be upset with him.

“You walked in on us while we were changing and stood there gawking at Penelope. You know exactly what I mean.”

“You have to understand, Sis. They grew up on a farm out in the woods, so they could run around naked. Penelope and Willie don’t see it as nasty or naughty when it’s just around each other.

“Your eyes were bulging out of your head! I saw you looking at her boobs,” I assured him.

“If a girl is going to stand there naked, I can’t help but look, but you’d look at my wang if it was flopping out, wouldn’t you?” Albert countered defensively. “It’s really not that big of a deal. When they first got here they were running around the woods completely naked. I’m the one that told them that they had to wear underwear at least if they were going to play in the woods because someone might see us.”

I didn’t doubt that was true. “Do you know that she gets spanked every night whether she did anything wrong or not? And now Mom and Dad think that I have to do it as well?” I explained – hoping that Albert would agree that was wrong.

“Yeah, an attitude adjustment or something, right? I heard Penelope talking about it. It’s not that big of a deal to her, apparently, they don’t spank very hard?” he shrugged. “I guess it’s made Penelope stop trying to act uppity. I think Mom just wants you to be a girl for as long as you can and not try to grow up so fast. That’s why she’s got you dressing more girly, and stuff. Do you have to curtsy like she does?” he giggled.

“Yeah, it’s super humiliating,” a fresh wave of anger washed over me as I realized that I would not get any sympathy from my little brother.

“I don’t see why it would be embarrassing. Penelope acts like it’s a big production and makes it fancy when she does it. She doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. Aren’t girls supposed to curtsy?”

“It just doesn’t seem fair that boys don’t have to do any of it,” I admitted.

Albert laughed at the idea of doing a curtsy and clumsily did one by pulling up imaginary skirts. “I don’t think boys are meant to dip into a curtsy dip. We aren’t as graceful. I know that Willie and Penelope’s mom and dad believe in traditional gender roles, and that’s why they see a difference. I am sorry if you are mad about that, but don’t take it out on me. I didn’t think any of this up, and I have to share my room with Willie, just like you have to share your room with Penelope.”

“Yeah, but you seem to like it,” I said.

“I do. Willie is cool as hell, and a lot of fun. It’s like having a built-in friend, but I still had to give up a little privacy and he’s insistent that I try new things and go outside a lot more than I would prefer. I assumed you’d love having another girl your own age living with you, especially one as cute Penelope. You guys should be good friends.”

The truth was, that Penelope was a decent person. She could be a little insufferably perfect, but she was not the pretentious, narcissistic, judgmental nitpicker that I thought she was going to be when she first moved in. Penelope was very giving of her time and wanted to please people. She seemed desperate for attention and validation in some ways, and a little bit old-fashioned.

The part that I didn’t understand at all was her concept of nudity and modesty. She had chided me for dressing slutty, but she seemed completely fine with being naked in front of my brother. I chalked that up to secretly wanting attention, and not the explanations that she gave about it not being a big deal since she was just a girl.

Albert obviously liked looking at her. I made peace with the fact that Albert hadn’t been the architect of any of the changes, and he was not to blame. I told him that I just wanted him to be on my side.

“I am on your side, Sis. I love you! I think you should give Willie and Penelope a chance. They are different and see the world differently than we do, but they aren’t bad people. I thought you were having fun in the woods today. You were certainly smiling when we caught you, and you could have just refused to acknowledge our guns,” he pointed a finger at me to remind me that was his six-shooter.

“Yeah, part of it was fun,” I admitted. “You guys were about to strip us completely.”

“No, I told you. They know they aren’t allowed to run around naked in the woods. If you don’t want to do something, just say it. You went along with the game, and the idea is you were a prisoner, so you are supposed to resist and try to escape. You were never really tied up, you know that, right?”

I felt silly for being upset about it and acknowledged that before giving him a kiss on the cheek and getting back to what I was working on.

A few hours later, My cousin and I were cleaning up when my Aunt announced that we’d done an excellent job tonight. It did feel good to accomplish something and then be acknowledged for it. I hated to admit that to myself, but I enjoyed the recognition, but also strangely I liked the satisfaction of having completed my chores.

“Thank you, Mommy!” Penelope cooed. “Can we have our spankings now?”

We were in the kitchen, my parents, Albert and Willie were in the living room, but they could quite easily see into the kitchen and dining room. “Okay, girls go ahead and strip down. We’ll do it a little early,” Aunt Katy acted as if she was doing us a favor.

Penelope already had the shirt she was wearing over her head, and almost off before I could mention that Albert and Willie were in the living room.

“So? I am sure you’ve bathed in front of your brother before many times, and you definitely don’t have anything that Willie hasn’t seen. Take your clothes off, Molly,” my Aunt said firmly.

I felt I had no choice but to do as I was told.

My mom turned her head and noticed that Penelope was already down to nothing but a pair of white panties as I started to take my top off. Albert, Willie and my father looked right at us.

“Is it necessary to have the girls strip off in front of Albert and Willie?” my mom asked a pointed question – clearly not happy about it. I pulled my shirt back down over my head and didn’t take it off.

“It’s not a strip show,” Aunt Katy shrugged dismissively. “I would spank Willie in front of the girls, just as I would spank them in front of the boys. They aren’t developed enough to need modesty – what’s the big deal?”

“I just thought we’d do it in my husband’s office,” my mom said as she stood and walked into the kitchen, flanked by my father. Penelope was peeling off her white panties, revealing her hairless pussy and ass as she stood there naked as a jaybird, like it wasn’t weird at all.

“Willie has seen me discipline Penelope hundreds of times at home; he’s welcome to watch. I don’t consider it abuse, or anything that needs to be private. I assume the same rules would apply to Albert,” Katy replied to my mother firmly.

Albert didn’t gawk or seem surprised by Penelope being nude. He was obviously looking at her along with Willie but I would have expected a look of surprise.

“It’s okay Mom, we can leave if Aunt Carol is weirded out by us being here,” Willie offered.

“She’s just concerned about your cousin’s reaction to seeing the girls get disciplined,” Katy said.

“It’s okay Mom,” my brother shrugged. “Molly told me she gets a nightly attitude adjustment just like Penelope does. I know about it. You just want the girls to behave and not get too uppity, right?”

Mom was shocked that Albert was so easy going about it, but I think she was most surprised that I told my brother.

“Were you bragging about it, Molly?” she asked.

My face turned red. I didn’t want to say that I complained about it and tried to get Albert to see it as a bad thing. “I just told him that it happened,” I shrugged.

“Carol, I’ve never made it a secret to my kids that there is a consequence in the form of a paddle, a strap or a loving but firm hand when they need it. Taking them into another room to deliver a spanking raises questions about what’s going on. I wanted them to know what happens when they make mistakes. Their father always gave Penelope her nightly attitude adjustment over the kitchen table,” Katy explained.

It made sense to me now that Katy wasn’t the one who primarily dished out the spanking, and that may be why she didn’t spank very hard.

“Albert, you can leave the room if you are uncomfortable, or you can stay as far as I am concerned,” my Aunt said before adding that it would be up to my mom and dad.

“Do you have any questions, Albert?” my mom asked.

“They didn’t do anything wrong, but they get punished?” Albert asked. I was thankful that he asked that. I would have preferred he asked why boys didn’t get an attitude adjustment as well, but I’d imagine he didn’t want to give them any suggestions.

“Penelope, explain to your cousin why this isn’t a punishment, and why it must be nightly?”

“Girls have a tendency to gossip as your sister did about telling you about the attitude adjustments. We have a tendency as you said to get a little uppity. We aren’t being punished for anything we did wrong in particular. If we were, Mom would probably use a paddle. This is just a little attitude adjustment to remind us to watch our mouths and mind our manners. We go over what we did well, and did poorly during the day sometimes, but it’s not a punishment. It’s just discipline – an attitude adjustment that not something generally needed for boys because girls are held to different standards, so you wouldn’t be asked to join us unless you misbehave.”

“I didn’t ask all that, Penelope,” my Aunt said curtly before asking Albert if he had any other questions. He didn’t, and he clearly wanted to stay and watch.

“Okay then, if you get uncomfortable you can leave the room,” Mom nodded to Albert that he had permission to watch like Willie did. She told me to go ahead and undress. I was reluctant but I didn’t argue because everyone else looked like they agreed with her. I was still undressing when my Aunt instructed Penelope to bend over the table, place her hands flat on the table, and stick her butt out.

“Okay, Mommy,” Penelope agreed with a smile and counted as her mom slapped her bare bottom lightly. My cousin had absolutely no shame about sticking her cute little ass up and out fully – but her ass crack wasn’t facing the boys, so at least they couldn’t see up her ass and her bald slit.

“Did you do anything naughty today?” My Aunt asked as she slapped her daughter’s butt lightly.

“Three, no, Ma’am, I didn’t,” Penelope counted and answered as another light slap sounded against her bare behind.

“Did you think about doing naughty things?”

“Four, Yes Ma’am, I thought about playing with myself after lunch,” she admitted as her mother popped her ass. I took my

“Why didn’t you do that?”

“I am not a naughty girl, and I an resist temptation, mommy! Five!”

“Good girl, you are honest, and sweet. Did you argue with anyone?” her mom observed with pride as she delivered another light swat.

“Six!” my cousin smiled, and her blue eyes twinkled. “I didn’t argue. There is no point in arguing, Mommy.”

“Did you make someone’s day brighter? Bring joy? Make someone happy?” Aunt Katy asked as she swatted her daughter’s bottom.

“Seven! I think so, Ma’am. I played with my cousins and Willie and got to be an Indian named Star Dancer. I also was allowed to help with chores around the house.”

“You did very well,” my Aunt was pleased. I had to stand flat-footed and naked while this little spectacle played out. I kept instinctively placing my hands in front of my pussy and my nipples, and I kept my back to the rest of my family so that all they saw was my ass crack.

“Stop touching your nipples, Molly,” Katy chided me when she noticed around the time she reached twenty swats. “This will be over before you know it and you both can take your showers and get your nightgowns on.”

“Thirteen, thank you mommy!”

“If you had a bathtub downstairs, we’d let you two bathe together, to save water,” Aunt Katy shared like it would be some great favor. Penelope said that would be magnificent. I wasn’t so thrilled by it and had to fight the urge to place my arm across my nipples as they stiffened under the cold air.

Once she reached twenty, my Aunt told Penelope to stand facing the table, palms flat on her head, and look straight ahead. I noticed just how bald her pussy was. I hadn’t looked at it very closely before. It didn’t have a trace of stubble on it.

“Okay, Molly, bend over, just like Penelope did, and let's get this over with,” My Aunt seemed bored. She stopped me as I approached the dinner table and examined my crotch. She grabbed my wrist, turned me around,d and examined my butt by rubbing it.

“I told you to shave all your hair off, what is this?” she reached down and tugged on a stray hair that was sticking out of the side. It had been shaved but it was still about two inches in length.

“I did my best,” I pouted.

“Look at your bottom,” she rubbed her hand on my butt and felt my peach fuzz. “Did you even shave your butt?”

“No,” I gulped. I thought my brother and Willie might chuckle because I was blushing with humiliation but they remained silent – or at least I didn’t hear their tittering laughter.

“I can understand missing some spots on your butt because it’s hard to reach back there,” My Aunt observed sternly. “Look at Penelope’s behind; it’s smooth like a girl’s butt should be at your age,” she rubbed her daughter’s pink ass. I heard a couple of giggles from my brother and Willie at that time.

“Willie used to shave my backside when we were in Nebraska, but we don’t have a bathtub to share, so I have to do it myself – it’s easy,” Penelope said like she was offering an excuse.

“You aren’t boys, and neither of you should have fuzzy butts and hairy vaginas like women, neither of you are developed enough up top to justify pubic hair. I’ll shave you properly tonight,” my Aunt decided as she guided me firmly in position. “I’ll shave your butt as well, Penelope.”

“No, I’ll shave Penelope,” my Mom volunteered. I expected Katy to argue, but she didn’t. My nipples were so stiff that they were aching as I bent over the table. I was mortified that they were talking about shaving off my body hair like I was a dirty sheep, and just having it was proof I was a naughty hussy.

“We can shave each other, Mommy,” Penelope offered politely.

“Oh no, you two aren’t going to shower together. If there was a bathtub, and the door remained open like at home then that would be different, but I am not going to invite temptation into something as wholesome as grooming yourselves,” my Aunt said.

“We are just girls, I don’t think it’d be naughty, Mommy,” Penelope smiled. I felt like it was going to be weird no matter which of us shaved each other simply because we’d be touching other’s pussy or ass and, I was hoping we’d stop talking about it -especially in front of my parents, brother and cousin Willie.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Penelope,” my Aunt implied she didn’t trust me alone with my cousin in the shower – which made me feel like a super whore. I wanted to say that I wasn’t lesbian but I had kissed girls before and fooled around, so that wasn’t entirely true.

“I don’t have any interest in my cousin that way,” I assured her.

“if I thought you did, then she’d share a bed with her brother like she did in Nebraska. The simple fact was that we didn’t want to kick either of you out of your rooms. Now, let’s get this over with, so we can get you both shaved. Try to touch your nose to the table,” Aunt Katy placed her hand firmly on the middle of my back. My pussy started to gush once I felt her touch – which only made me feel guilty that my Aunt’s soft hand and this situation had made me wet. It wasn’t sexy – but I was turned on like crazy.

“Frappppppppppp!!” Willie made a joking farting noise once I was bent over, causing me to blush and raise up. My aunt firmly kept her hand on my back so that I couldn’t raise it, but she answered for me.

“Willie, you can come join your cousin if you are going to act like an immature little boy. Your Aunt and Uncle are new to domestic discipline and they have their doubts. You aren’t helping make the case for it by making rude noises and being immature.”

“Does he get spanked, Aunt Katy?” I asked.

“Willie gets spanked when he misbehaves,” my Aunt replied impatiently. She popped my bottom very lightly. I almost didn’t count because I didn’t realize we had begun. It was that soft.

“One!”

I felt so strange getting these taps on my ass and counting. We were at the ninth swat, and she hadn’t even asked me a question. It seemed like a lot of humiliation in the form of stripping all to deliver very soft swats on the bottom.

“Did you think that if you left your vagina hairy and didn’t groom yourself, you would be allowed to keep it that way?” she asked when she got to the next one. I was hoping for an easy softball question like the ones that my Aunt gave my cousin. I blushed a fresh paint of red across my ears and forehead.

“Ten, no Ma’am, I’ve just never shaved there before, and I am sorry I didn’t do it properly,” I assumed was what she wanted to hear.

She smacked my butt, this time hitting near the crack of my ass, close to my pussy. “You can say vagina. You have to be explicit and pronouns without antecedent are the opposite of that, Molly.”

I didn’t know what a pronoun without an antecedent was, but I assumed that meant that I had to say vagina or pussy. I counted after that comment without adding anything.

“Do you think you are being spanked for something you did today?” she asked as she spanked me again.

“Twelve,” I replied, adding, “No, you said I get these no matter what I do.”

“That’s right, do you think that it is going to work to make you a little more well behaved and humble?” she asked as she smacked my butt, this time her finger came dangerously close to my pussy. I almost wanted her to hit my pussy lip and I didn’t know why.

“The..um…thirteen, I don’t know if it will,” I stumbled over my words and said that I didn’t have any choice in it.

“You don’t have to be so passive aggressive, Molly. You aren’t old enough to know what is best for you and that is part of the problem. You are out there sucking on boy’s things, wearing tiny skirts to show off your fanny, and then acting like you are too good for a knee length play skirt. You don’t have your priorities straight! Now, stop mumbling or I’ll start over.”

“Fourteen, yes Ma’am,” I counted.

She didn’t ask me any more questions, but I knew she could tell that my pussy was dripping. She made me stand like my cousin. I noticed that Willie and Albert hadn’t stayed to watch the entire thing. I was shocked. I wouldn’t say disappointed, but surprised they didn’t seem to think my being naked was worth waiting to the end.

“Okay, girls, I am proud of both of you, and I know how hard it is for you to swallow your pride and do something new, but this is going to be good for you,” My Aunt said as she hugged me tightly. I had a small tear in my eye and I wasn’t sure why. The spanking was very mild, but I felt a light stinging on my butt as I hugged my mother and father.

Penelope hugged the three of them.

“Where is Willie?” my Aunt asked, and then she yelled for them. The guys came giggling back into the living room when she called. “Why did you leave before it was over?”

“We got bored,” Willie shrugged.

“No, you just didn’t want to hug your sister,” Aunt Katy corrected him with a knowing grin and directed the two of them to hug us.

Penelope was more than happy to hug them both even though she was naked and they were fully dressed. It was awkward for me, but I did it as well. Willie was completely comfortable with it and gave me a bear hug like it was perfectly normal to hug me while I was naked.

“You need to look after your sister and your cousin, Willie. You need to show them you love them every day, and if you don’t, then I could slide you over the table just as easily as them,” his mother warned.

“Maww-awwm,” Willie’s face reflected his embarrassment at the very notion of being treated like girls. I got the impression from his mother’s tone that she was being facetious.

“Albert, what did you think of seeing your cousin and sister get their attitudes adjusted for the first time?” Aunt Katy asked.

My little brother gave me a quizzical smirk as he hugged me. I felt my stiff, bare nipples dragging across his shirt as he held me tightly.

“I don’t normally hug my sister every night, so that’s a little weird, and It’s strange seeing her naked,” he shrugged as he released me.

“Your sister doesn’t have anything you don’t have except for a little slit between the crack of her legs, once you have a good long look, you won’t even think about it. At home, we couldn’t keep clothes on Penelope half the day, but we always insisted that when she wore clothes, she wore skirts or dresses and not dress like a boy,” Katy said.

“I thought it was odd that Penelope plays in a dress and not shorts, but now I realize that’s because she used to run around naked?” Albert asked.

“Mostly in just panties,” her mom shrugged. “Willie would run around in his underwear sometimes as well. It was just us out in the woods, but around here,” My aunt indicated our neighborhood and added, “some people might think it’s naughty and stare if the girls run around in their panties without anything else on. That’s the only reason that I worry about it. We aren’t trying to offend people or shock them. If you are comfortable with it, Penelope doesn’t mind, and I doubt your sister will after she gets used to these sessions.”

My Aunt spoke for me and her daughter – not once ask our feelings about Albert seeing us naked. Penelope didn’t challenge her, and I was too embarrassed to say anything. I didn’t think it would change anything, anyway. It was a bit late now, Albert had already seen me naked and even hugged my naked body.

“I just don’t want to feel like a pervert,” Albert said.

“You are a boy, so I am sure you are naturally curious and would probably stare at an African woman running around on the cover of National Geographic, but those women see breasts as something they need to feed babies and aren’t waving them around for the wrong kind of attention. I think once you’ve had a good long look, your eyes will pop back in your head.”

“If that’s the case, why don’t you walk around topless, Aunt Katy?” Albert said with a big smart-ass grin on his face. “It’s just boobs after all.”

My Aunt pursed her lips in an annoyed smirk. “I don’t think you’d want to see my big old Bazookas hanging out, and this isn’t Africa – women my age and your mother’s age are entitled to some privacy, and your sisters will be when they get a little older. You wouldn’t think anything of seeing a mom changing a dirty diaper in public, but you surely would if she wiped her own bottom in front of you, wouldn’t you?”

Albert found it hard to answer the question – clearly, unable to counter my Aunt’s logic, he nodded and agreed.