Mother's Little Helper

by Sewell

Fifteen year-old Stewart Randall lies face-down on his bed, crying softly in rapid, shallow gasps. Both his faded Levis and slightly worn fruit-of-the-loom underpants are pulled down, encircling his lower thighs in a thick braid of blue denim and stretched white cotton that loosely binds his legs together just above the knees. Stewart presses himself tightly against the firm mattress, wishing he could dissolve into it. He can feel his bare bottom tremble with each hiccuping sob, and buries his face deeper into the soft sanctuary of his soaking wet pillow. He hears his bedroom door being firmly pushed open, and turns his tear-streaked face back to offer up one final plea for mercy to his determined mother, now striding into his room with a doubled-over leather belt gripped loosely in her fist.

“Mom, pleeeeease!” Stewart wails, his voice breaking as she approaches. Even as he collapses into helpless weeping, he realizes that it is not his mother, but his younger step-sister Nicola, who has entered his room. She wordlessly lays the belt out along the foot of his bed, a soft smile curling her lips.

“Get ouuuut!!” Stewart screams, kicking his hobbled feet down against the mattress in frustration.

“Mom told me to check on you,” Nicola says calmly. She turns back over her shoulder, towards the wide open door. “His pants are pulled down, Mom!” the pretty thirteen year old calls out, her black hair falling across her face.

“Thank you, Nik!” comes the reply. “I´ll be up in a moment.”

Leeeave!!” Stewart squeals through his tears, desperately striving for some semblance of “big brother” authority, but sounding even to himself like a young child throwing a tantrum.

Ignoring the outburst, Nicola approaches the head of the bed and leans over him. Her dark hair spills down towards Stewart´s face as she comes in close enough for him to smell the scent of toothpaste on her warm breath, meeting his miserable gaze with her confident half-smile. She runs her eyes down the length of the bed, taking in her stepbrother's forced nudity and shaking her head sadly.

“I told Kelly you were getting a spanking, and she couldn´t believe it,” she confides matter-of-factly. Kelly is Nicola´s best friend, a skinny freckled redhead who always joins Nicola in treating Stewart with cool disdain. “Neither one of us have been spanked since we were little children.”

Shut up, Stewart wants to say, but doesn´t quite dare. He sucks in great trembling mouthfuls of air, breathing Nicola´s perfume deep into his lungs and looking up tearfully into her dark eyes.

An expensive bobbed haircut frames her slender neck, and silver bracelets dangle from her wrists as she reaches out her hand to smooth the bedspread next to him. It seems to Stewart only weeks ago that she was a flat-chested tomboy. Now a confident young woman stands over him, her smartly stylish clothing showing off her slender figure and full, unmistakably feminine curves.

Stewart, on the other hand, has never felt so juvenile. Lying bare-bottomed over his bed like a infant on a changing table, waiting for his mother to come in and sprinkle baby powder on his fanny. Except, of course, what Stewart´s mother will soon be applying to his bare bottom will hardly be soothing. He closes his eyes and clearly sees his stepsister once again marching into his room, holding the folded-over leather belt as if it belongs in her hand. In his mind´s eye though, this time she positions herself behind him, lifts her hand up even with her shoulder, and brings the belt whistling down to smack against his defenseless rear end. Stewart jerks and moans aloud, opening his eyes just as Nicola seats herself on the bed next to him and casually crosses her legs. “Are you okay?” she asks, the smile clear in her voice as she plants her hand firmly on Stewart´s lower back. He turns his wet face up to her and nods, the words “yes ma´am” not quite escaping his lips.

Smiling, Nicola leans over, as if to kiss Stewart good night. Like a woman fondly revisiting a favorite childhood game that she has long since outgrown, she whispers softly into his ear: “Stewart's going to get a spaaaanking. Stewart's going to get a spaaaanking. Stewart's going to get a spaaaanking. Stewart's going to get a spaaaanking.”