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Steps and Lines

By Lawrence Kinden All Rights Reserved ©


Steps and Lines

I’m just the stepbrother.

Steve’s a good guy. He’s good for my mom and I’m glad they got married. And Sutter’s a great kid. Even if she’s a double helping of brat, I’m glad she’s my step-sister. But when it comes to discipline, when Sutter gets into it with her dad, I keep my nose out of it. Mom never spanked me, not that she’d had cause, and just because I don’t approve doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell Steve he ought not smack Sutter’s butt if he thinks she needs it. Like I said, I’m just the stepbrother.

Usually, when Sutter’s in trouble, Mom and I just leave the room and let them work it out. It’s not like Steve’s beating her up. He’s not hitting her with a belt or anything. But he does smack her bottom sometimes. It just rubs me the wrong way.

Mom, on the other hand, isn’t as bothered by it.

“Your grandfather spanked me until I was seventeen,” she told me.

And Sutter, even when she’s all red-eyed and pouty after, she never seems to resent Steve for it. Not that she likes getting spanked, but she seems to see it as the logical consequence to misbehavior.

“Not everyone’s a goodie-goodie like you,” she told me once. And she stuck her tongue out at me and for a moment, I was tempted to smack her one. Of course I didn’t, but I was tempted.

So, when the first day of summer break came and mom had already gone off to work and Steve was on his way out the door and Sutter was being an almighty brat, I was stunned when Steve suddenly looked at me and said, “Feel free to spank her, Billy. I gotta go.”

The silence Steve’d left in the wake of his leaving widened my eyes and bit my tongue. I looked at Sutter, pig-tailed, freckle-cheeked, bare-footed Sutter, my little thirteen-year-old stepsister, and she looked at me.

She laughed so hard she snorted, teary-eyed and out of breath, she fell to the floor and pounded the carpet.

I rolled my eyes and went to the kitchen for coffee.

After a while, Sutter came in and asked for corn flakes, so I poured her some.

“There’s no way you could spank me,” Sutter said after a little while longer.

I looked at her over my coffee and raised an eyebrow at her.

She munched a few spoonfulls of cornflakes, and I could tell she was considering.

“I mean, you’re seventeen and, like, a giant compared to me, so you could do it, but I don’t think you would do it. I mean, you’re such a softie, ya know?”

I smiled.

“In fact, I think that if you did spank me, you’d cry harder than I would.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Sutter. I’m tougher than you think.”

And that, I thought, would be the end of it.

After breakfast, while we reveled in the sheer joy of not having to go to school by binging some silly show she liked on Huluflix, Sutter suddenly punched my shoulder, a common preamble for her.

“So, I know you never got spanked, but did you ever want to? I mean, did you ever wonder what it was like?”

I shrugged. “Not really.”


“I had friends who were spanked. I saw a couple of them get it.”

She grinned at me. “Were any of them girl friends?”

I shook my head.


“You know, you’re a great brother, Billy. Most boys wouldn’t sit here and watch this with me. I’m glad dad picked Sherry.” She hugged my arm and started the next episode.

And, again, I figured that was the end of it.

But as we both started getting rumbly for lunch, I got up from the couch and offered to make a few grilled cheese sandwiches. Sutter quickly agreed, and as I was buttering the pan, she reached across the counter and poked my arm.

“What would I have to do to get you to spank me?”

I kept my eyes on the pan. “I’m not going to spank you.”

“But, what if I said a bunch of cusswords in a row?”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

“You’re no fun.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Are spankings supposed to be fun?”

She grinned at me. “Well, no, not really. But, didn’t you ever play chase on the playground? Like, some kid pokes another kid—kisses ’em or steals their hat or something—then other chases until they can poke ’em back.”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Well, maybe I’m bored and I’m gonna poke you.”

“Well, maybe if you poke me, I won’t make you lunch.”

Sutter gasped dramatically and threw herself to the floor wailing a protracted and piteous “Nooo…”

I laughed.

“Hey! I’m a growing girl. You can’t starve me or you’ll turn me into a maniac.” She hopped back up to the counter.

“What are you talking about?”

“I read it on the Internet.”

“Didn’t I warn you about that?”

I fed her two grilled cheese sandwiches and a tall glass of milk and had a few myself. And while we ate in silence, I no longer thought Sutter was having a passing fancy. After lunch, I cleaned up while she went back to the couch. Halfway through the next episode, I was proven right.

“I just wonder, I guess.”

“Hmm?” I was focused on whether or not the slayer was going to make it to Homecoming on time.

“I said, I wonder.”

“I have no doubt, Sutter. What is it, precisely, you wonder?”

“What it would be like if you spanked me.”


“Haven’t you wondered? Like, I know I annoy you sometimes. You must have thought I deserved a spankin’ now and again.”

“Annoying me doesn’t mean I get to hit you.”

She punched my shoulder. “Why not?”

“Because I’m bigger, older, and wiser. Steve is in charge of your discipline, so that’s different I guess, but I’m not.”

“Sure you are. Daddy just said you should spank me.”


“Oh, come on. What if… what if I call you a poopy-face-stupid-head?


“What if I go break some plates?”

“I’ll just tell your dad and he can deal with you.”

“What if I… what if I say your cooking’s terrible?”

That stung. “Hey now.”

“What if I say your grilled cheese sandwiches taste like burnt bricks? And your brownies taste like butt? And your spaghetti tastes like—“

“That’s enough.” I gave her a stern look. I knew she was just trying to get a rise out of me, to get me to chase her, but insulting my cooking was crossing a line. “Knock it off.”

Sutter stood and backed a few steps away. “Your mac’n cheese? It tastes like runny mold with worms in it.”

I stood up quickly, not because I was angry, but to startle her. Sutter’s eyes went wide and she sprinted for the stairs. I chased her as much because she ran as anything else. She ran to her room and tried to slam the door behind her, but I was already half way though. She must have known I’d catch up with her. She must have known that going for her room she was trapping herself. I snagged her shoulder as she tried to get past me, back to the hallway, and sat on her bed. I put my hands on her shoulders and held her in front of me.

“Are you going to apologize?” I asked.

She shook her head, grinning.

“Sutter, I’m not going to—“

“You can’t even make chocolate milk right.”

I swatted her right thigh. Not hard, just enough to fill the room with a pop.


“Your apple pie is like snot!”

Some lines just aren’t meant to be crossed. I pulled Sutter over my knees. She squealed. I swatted her bottom several times in quick succession, filling the bedroom with the sound of spanking. She squirmed and squealed and tried to get away, but she was just a kid and I held her tight.


She was breathing hard. “Y-yeah?”

“Are you going to apologize?”

“I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard. “I’m ss-sorry your waffles are l-like cardboard.”

Her sky-blue nylon shorts slipped over her butt without a hitch. Her bubblegum-pink panties were a little more stubborn, especially with Sutter grabbing at their waistband, but soon her pale bottom was bared to my vengeful palm. She shrieked and kicked as I turned her butt and thighs a bright red. I spanked as thoroughly as I knew how. I took hold of her wrists when she tried to protect her butt, I locked her legs with mine when she nearly kicked herself off my lap. I smacked her backside sharply, but not brutally. And when I was done, breathing hard and slick with sweat, she was crying freely.

Eventually, I let her go and she got to her feet, her cheeks damp and scarlet. She hugged me tightly and I stood, picking her up, letting her head rest on my shoulder. I rocked her gently and soon she calmed her tears.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me, Sutter?”

She kissed my cheek. “Love you, big brother.”

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