Sister

Cecilia could mount the horse on her own these days.

She wasn’t supposed to— not unless her older brother James was nearby and watching— but she was capable, and that was something. He said it wasn’t her that he doubted, but Sister was old and he didn’t trust her not to step back onto a finger if Cecilia missed the jump and fell flat on her back.

“You wouldn’t do that though, would you, old girl?” Cecilia asked the horse as she ran the stiff bristles of the dandy brush down her side. Grooming Sister had been a recent addition to her chore list but a welcome one, a privilege even. Cecilia took the job seriously, happy with both the responsibility and the quiet that came with it.

She’d started to think of Sister as her horse, though the animal had been purchased before Cecilia’s birth and with money rounded up from friends and relatives. Or so the story went– Sister gifted to baby James, some years before Cecilia had come along to wrestle the title of sister back. The animal was in many of her earliest memories, before the rest of the children had come right in a row, when their parents were still alive, when Sister was still spry.

Not that she didn’t have plenty of energy left in her, Cecilia thought, cutting off her aimless reminiscing and patting the strong flank with her free hand before going to put the brush down, grooming finished. Though she’d be an old nag before James let his sister actually make use of the family’s only mode of transportation. Cecilia pursed her lips, glaring in the general direction of the house and, presumably, her overly cautious brother. Then she walked over to the barn door, poking her head out and assessing the state of the yard before moving on to the newly added next step of her caretaking routine: practice.

The little ones were all inside, though, preparing for the midday meal, and even if James wasn’t busy with that, she’d be mounted and back down before he could make it out to where she was. So long as she hurried, which she did, lugging the saddle over to the hay bale she knew would give her the extra couple feet she needed to get it up and over her beloved steed. Then it was foot in, leg over, tighten the stomach to maintain balance while she leaned over and whispered soothing words into Sister’s ear. “It’s alright, old girl, it’s me, another sister, I got you, good girl, sh sh shhh…”

She didn’t linger in this position long. It was only the second time she’d actually made it all the way up, though she’d fallen on hay and not the unforgiving ground in her earlier attempts.  She had plans eventually to showcase her skill, but revealing it was going to require its own balancing act and she wasn’t quite ready yet. The dismount was easy, and then she was carefully, meticulously replacing every piece of stirred equipment. James noticed things, noticed details, so she tried to think like him every time she cleaned up. She finished, and was soon locking up the barn doors and heading inside to help feed the kids and then eat something herself.

~   ~   ~

James stood in the barn, one hand gently resting on Sister’s haunch while the other thumbed the leather of the stirrup he’d just gone to adjust. He hadn’t noticed anything out of place, and he wasn’t sure why that was a problem. But it was.

He was glad Cecilia had taken to grooming the horse, but her diligence was out of character. She was always eager for more responsibility, to be treated more like the adult she fancied herself to be, and accepting this chore had been exciting for her. Never before had her excitement translated to the kind of fastidious cleaning she was doing in the barn these days.

When Cecilia did the dishes, she left the rag wet in the sink if he didn’t remind her to wring it out. When she swept the floor, her neat little mountains of dirt often lay forgotten in the corner until James fetched the dustpan or little feet redistributed it. When she cleared the table, she always forgot the salt and pepper.

When Cecilia groomed the horse, nothing was left out of place. Sister looked shinier than ever, the brushes were clean and put away, the water trough refilled precisely. There wasn’t a piece of hay out of place when James entered the barn. And that made him suspicious.

~   ~   ~

“Don’t!”

Cecilia nearly lost her balance at her brother’s command, not quite shouted from the barn door. She waved her arms wildly before steading herself on Sister, who hooved the dirt below but didn’t move otherwise. Once she was steady she froze, two extra feet of height on her because of the bale hay she’d climbed, looking down at her brother’s stormy expression.

“You’ve been out here practicing mounting,” he said, and she swallowed. James never asked questions about what was obvious to him, didn’t give people the chance to bend the truth even a little.

“I can do it!” Cecilia blurted out, as if this might soften James toward her or un-narrow his eyes.

“No–” James began, but it was too late. Desperate to prove herself, Cecilia turned, grabbing the pommel and hoisting herself up and over the horse. She reached for muscle memory her body had yet to develop, and Sister responded by dancing sideways under her weight in confusion. Cecilia shrieked as she lost her grip and began to slide.

“Umph.” The sound escaped her as she landed, safely, in her brother’s arms and he held her tightly as he took several quick steps back from the prancing animal. Sister steadied, and just as suddenly as time had stopped, it started again. Cecilia felt the weight of her limp body being held and grabbed for James, eyes widening as she thought about what she had just done.

~   ~   ~

James lowered his little sister slowly to her feet, keeping a hand on her until she was steady, then drew himself up to his full height and folded his arms at his chest. His jaw was clenched tightly as he contemplated her, his turn to look down now and he did not hide his displeasure. Then he unwound his arms and pointed to a spot on the barn wall where a two by four jutted out just enough to support a set of palms. “There. Put your hands against the wall.”

He watched her chest expand with her deep inhale, but she stumbled in the direction he’d pointed as he turned, eyes scanning to find the thin strip of leather that hung by the door for just this purpose. He took it from its hook, a place it left only for the occasional cleaning and even that was mostly habit. Just about every barn around these parts had something like this strap hanging in it, some used more often than others. James had never used this one before and hadn’t expected to for some time. 

He’d been on the receiving end. He’d taken more than a few solemn walks to the barn, back when their parents were around and he was the one being looked after. Now he held it as he walked over to his sister’s bent form, glad to have the tool handy for this correction. He lifted her dress and tucked it up and out of the way, ignoring her gasp when he pulled her bloomers down next. “Keep your hands there,” he told her as he stepped back and eyed his target for a moment, unkinking the leather and preparing to lay it across her waiting backside. “Understood?”

~   ~   ~

“Yes, James,” Cecilia almost whispered, and a heartbeat later pain erupted as the strap landed and she let out a shrill yell and yanked her hips forward, though her palms remained connected to the barn wall. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt.

“Bottom out,” James said behind her, and slowly Cecilia complied, forcing her knees to unbend until she was once again bent simply over and awaiting the next stroke. It came, and she squealed again as tears pricked her eyes. She’d been morbidly curious about the strap on the wall, had heard stories from older kids about being marched to the barn or the woodshed, knew James had a few of those stories himself.

Now she was in the middle of her own story and she wanted no part of it. She didn’t wait for the command before resuming her position this time, but the third lick elicited a sob from her throat and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to straighten her legs for the next one.

~   ~   ~

She didn’t have to. James was finished with the strap, though he was not finished with her. He hung the strip of leather back on its hook as his sister sniffled and twisted her hips and waited for the stinging to fade, hands still gripping the wooden beam. He walked to her side, squatting down so he could peer over her arm and into her watery eyes. “You are not yet the adult you wish to be, Cecilia,” he said in a voice that was almost sympathetic. He left her side, found the closest hay bail, and took a seat. “C’mere,” he said, crooking a finger at her and patting his lap.

Cecilia stood, swiping at her face with the back of one hand while the other gripped the waist of her under things, holding them up just enough to allow the several faltering steps needed to reach him. He pulled her easily over his knee, underscoring his pronouncement by putting her in this childish position, finishing her discipline in this childish way.

Fear of the strap might have kept Cecilia from protesting, but being deemed too small for such a punishment had released her childhood entirely back to her and she began to beg before he’d even lifted a hand. And unlike the strap, she had no reason to underestimate what was about to happen.  “Please James, don’t, please don’t James, wait–”

It did no good. Her brother glanced at the three distinct stripes, parallel lines across the girl’s deserving backside, and brought his large palm down on top of them. She’d put herself at risk, foolishly and disobediently. She might have protested his assessment but she’d understood the rule, chosen to ignore him, and earned her punishment.

And so he spanked her, across his lap and over her protests, until her bottom was swollen and hot and tears had streaked her face. He spanked her until her legs had kicked themselves out and she could only toe at the dirt ground they barely reached in this position. He spanked her until Sister, startled at first by the commotion, had settled in for the duration, eventually unperturbed by the sounds of the spanking or the girl being attended to.

When he stopped, the barn felt eerily quiet for the middle of the day, and then noises of the outside began to settle in around them as he waited for Cecilia to catch her breath. There were her quiet whimpers, and the familiar chatter of the birds. The neighbor’s cow mooed, a sound that traveled far in this part of the country. Chickens clucked and a rooster crowed, impatient for a sunset that was still far off. James stood her up, leaving a hand to encircle each of her biceps as he kept her between his knees.

“This is quite a setback, Cecilia. It’s going to be some time before you’re allowed out here by yourself again. You aren’t to go near the horse without supervision.” Fresh tears filled her lids before she could nod her understanding, but he maintained eye contact until she did. Then he let her arms go, handing her her skirts so he himself could pull her undergarments up as efficiently as he’d removed them what was not so long ago

Then he stood and put his arm around her, and she flung her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, James,” she sniffled, and she was, had been since she’d fallen into his waiting arms when she’d expected to hit hard ground.

“I bet you are,” he said. “We’ll set a cushion at the supper table for you tonight.”

Heat rose up Cecilia’s face, knowing he wasn’t teasing but unsure if this was supposed to be a comfort or a part of her punishment. She opted not to reply, instead hiding her face in his arm and waiting to be led back inside the house.

---

Length: 2117 words
Updated: 05/17/24