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Somewhere in Harlow, Essex. A quiet corner of the new town where the Gordon girls lived with their mother Phyllis in a small terraced house. Their father had been gone for years. Phyllis worked long shifts and had grown tired of Trudy’s endless trouble. So she had given the older sister, Sally, full charge.

Sally was nineteen and worked behind the “Pick n Mix” counter at Woolworths. Trudy was a year young, just eighteen and worked in the record department of the local WH Smith store in Harlow town centre. Rod, a smart young man worked in the same shop, in the stationery department. He had a mop of dark hair and always looked immaculate in his  well pressed two piece dark suit, collar and tie. It was well known among the staff that the two of them were seeing each other as they had started staying behind after closing time on the pretence of checking stock,  then, eventually slipping out together.

One Saturday evening, Phyllis had gone to her sister’s for the night. The house was quiet except for the sound of the front door slamming.

Trudy came in laughing, her lipstick smudged and the smell of gin on her breath.

Sally stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded in disgust.
“You’re two hours late!” she snapped.

Trudy rolled her eyes apathetically, slurring. “I only stayed on after work. Rod from stationery wanted to go for a drink.”

“Rod from the stationery department?”

“Yes.” She snapped. “And!”

“You were supposed to be home at six to help with the washing. Mum left a list. You ignored it. Again. You do this every time you and that boy get the chance to be alone together.”
Trudy smirked. “You’re not Mum.”

Sally’s voice dropped. “Mum gave me permission to discipline you if you played up, you know that, don’t you. Now get yourself upstairs if you know what’s good for you.”

Trudy hesitated at first, then stomped up to the bedroom they still shared. Sally followed, closing the door.

“You know what’s expected of you and what’s coming so skirt off, knickers down and get yourself bent over the end of the bed.”
Trudy muttered, cursing under her breath but did as she was told knowing it would be much worse for her if she didn’t comply. Reluctantly, knowing what was coming she hiked her work skirt to her waist and pushed her lace trimmed knickers down to her knees before, bending over the bed’s wooden footboard, her bottom pale, bare and as yet unblemished.

Sally opened the wardrobe and took out the old leather dog leash that she used to regularly to punish her wayward sister, occasionally whipping her naked bottom just because she enjoyed it. The dog leash was thick, well-worn, and always left deep marks. Doubling it in her hand this evening she was really going to lay it on hard. She knew that her sibling was going to invite Rod around for a sexual encounter this weekend so she would make sure he had something to see and perhaps question embarrassingly.

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“You think you can swan about with Rod like you’re somebody special, Trudy. Staying behind after the shop closes and coming home smelling of drink, leaving me to do everything. I’m sick of it!”

The first stroke cracked across the centre of Trudy’s bottom.

Trudy gasped and jerked forward.
Sally did not wait. She laid on another, and another, the leather snapping loudly in the small room. Trudy gripped the bedspread, toes curling.

“Hold still.”
The leash rose and fell steadily. Sally worked from the fullest part of the cheeks down to the sit-spots, then back up again. Red lines appeared quickly, then overlapping welts. Trudy started to yelp.

“It hurts!”

“It’s meant to.” Sally paused only long enough to shift her stance. “You had every chance to come straight home after WHSmith instead of going off with Rod from stationery. You never do.”

She continued. Twenty. Thirty. The leather bit deeper. Trudy’s bottom turned a dark, mottled red, the skin hot and raised. She kicked one foot, then the other, but stayed in position.

Sally’s arm ached but she did not stop. She had promised their mother she would not let Trudy off lightly any more.

“Count the next twelve.”

Trudy’s voice shook. “One… two…”

Each stroke was harder than the last. By eight she was crying properly. By twelve her bottom was a mass of burning welts and she was sobbing into the mattress.

Sally dropped the leash on the bed and pulled Trudy up by the arm. She sat on the edge of the mattress and tipped her sister over her lap for a final hard hand-spanking, slapping the already welted flesh until Trudy was kicking and howling.

When she finally let her up, Trudy stood with her knickers still around her knees, hands hovering over her scorched bottom, tears on her cheeks.

Sally pointed at the corner.

“Nose to the wall. Hands on your head. You stay there until I say otherwise. And you can tell Rod from stationery that if he keeps you out late again you’ll be getting the same tomorrow.”

Trudy obeyed, sniffing, the marks on her bottom standing out vividly in the overhead light.

Sally sat on the bed and watched her for a long time.
“Next time you stay late at WH Smith with Rod or leave the jobs, it will be worse. Mum’s given me the right, and I’ll use it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sally.”

“Good. Now stay there and think about it.”

Downstairs the house was quiet again. Outside, Little Brays settled into Saturday night. Upstairs, Trudy Gordon stood in the corner with a thoroughly whipped bottom, already knowing she would be back over the bed before the month was out.

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