“I think we can forget our little get together tonight. I’m okay now.”
“Hmmm, I see. No, I don’t think so. Hey, cheer up, it won’t be so bad.”
“For you, I’m starting to think you are beginning to like doing this. I know Scott does.”
“Not to you he doesn’t. But yeah, I suspect he has a kinky side,” Michael chuckled. He raised his glass of water, “To us, little sister.”
“To us, big brother.”
After dinner and a nice walk around the cove, the two returned home. Sam kicked off her heels, rubbing her feet painfully. “Remind me to work up to these, please. I’m so used to sneakers and combat boots.”
“No problem. Okay, into the living room with you.”
“But, can’t I get changed first?” She hesitated, chewing in her lower lip.
“No, what you have on is fine. It won’t get in my way,” he said, taking her elbow and leading her to the wide couch.
She paused mid step. “I told you, this isn’t necessary anymore.”
“Come now, over my lap. I think it is,” he said, peeling her skirt up and panties down. “I need to remind you that I love you, care about you, and expect you to behave in a manner befitting a beautiful and intelligent young lady.”
“But Michael—”
“Butt? Yours still has a little bruising left. Nothing major. Ok, now why are we here?”
“Because I stupidly asked you to be,” she said.
He patted her bottom affectionately. It really was perfect, especially to spank. Maybe he really was starting to like it! “I don’t think it was stupid to ask. You needed your big brother’s forgiveness, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm, and how do you feel that is expressed in this family?”
“By spanking then holding me,” she gritted her teeth. She was trying not to get angry, but she could tell he was amused and enjoying himself at her expense.
“Yes. By spanking you. How?”
“Oh God, Mike, please stop this!” She groaned, hearing his chuckle. She was so embarrassed!
“Go on, little one. Answer me.”
“With your hand. On the bare bottom,” she snarled.
“Only with my hand?”
“I hope so!” she growled, trying to twist to look at him.
“No, I don’t think so. Last time I used just my hand, I didn’t get a reaction. No, I think my belt will help here tonight.”
“No! Michael, please don’t! I’m begging you,” his sister pleaded, feeling him unbuckle and pull his dress belt from his slacks as he held her in place with his left arm.
He placed it on the couch next to him. “I must remind you, you requested this. Now, let’s just recall the events of that day, shall we?” He began to spank her, not hard at first, as she reluctantly verbalized the happenings of that day. The smacks grew faster and harder as she got to the situation of the boom and mouthing off at him in front of the crew. By then, she was kicking and trying to avoid the blows. Tears had started to flow. Michael paused to gather his belt. He had to admit, he was rather enjoying himself, especially since he wasn’t angry or upset. He rested the leather on her warmed bottom.
“Then what happened, after you came off the boom?”
“You s-spanked me in front of the crew.”
“I certainly did. And how did you respond?”
“I refused to cry. But Mike, it hurt badly, even over those shorts! I swear.” She kicked trying to break his hold.
“So your pride prevented you from submitting to your punishment?”
Dead silence. He was right. That was the key to most of her problems, her pride—combined with her red-headed temper. “I’m so sorry, Michael,” she whispered, unmoving on his lap.
Michael was satisfied. “Ready to submit then?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sir? Where did that come from? Instinctively, she knew. His dominance, like that of her father and uncle, was natural and his quiet strength had long ago earned her respect and submission. She just could not understand why she always fought it.
The leather strap found its target five times before the crying began. He knew he wasn’t striking her particularly hard, but he was definitely getting through the pride. He stopped after 10, keeping her across his knee. “From now on I want to see some emotion from you. No more robot, okay? You are too young to be afraid of feeling,” he said, holding her close, her hot rear end resting gently on his thigh. “You don’t have to grow up too quickly, just enjoy being a kid for as long as you can. I love you so much.”
“How do you know these things?” she sniffed, allowing him to pull her panties back over her tender bottom and adjust her skirt.
He smiled, cupping her chin. “We’re twins, remember? It’s how I feel too.”
“So having to look after me is forcing you to grow up too fast?”
“Nah, I’ve looked after you since the day you became a bump. Having to discipline you is a natural progression for me. I’ve wanted to do it for years. You seem to hear me better than you do Dad or Scott.”
“It’s only because you always seem to know when I’m not listening. I hate that. I never ever get away with ignoring you,” she sighed. “Mike? Do you think they would mind if we take a night dive?”
“How about just jumping into the pool? Maybe some Jacuzzi time?”
“Do you mind if…” she didn’t finish.
“Go ahead, I don’t care. I’m putting on a suit.”
He smiled as she quickly stripped out of her clothes and watched as her bright red bottom made its way to the deck. He heard a splash as she dove into the pool. He envied her freedom. She was right. He had grown up too fast. But it was by his choice, not necessity.
Dr. Quimby and Scott returned by one o’clock that morning with Scott a little tipsy from too much celebrating. His friend pushed him towards his rooms and ventured upstairs to check on his children. Both were asleep on his large bed. Michael’s arm was draped securely over his sister, holding her tightly against his stomach. Smiling, Dr. Quimby glanced to his dresser. Several pictures showed the two in the exact same position, from the time Sam was an infant to when Michael was about 15. He quickly got his camera to add another picture to the collection. He gently roused his son as he gathered his daughter in his arms.
“Come on, kids, let’s get you to bed. Don’t make noise in the morning and wake your uncle, either. He had a bit too much tonight,” Dr. Quimby whispered. He tucked his youngest into bed with a kiss then went into his son’s room. “You are such a good boy,” he said, stroking the young man’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“About what, Dad, her? She’s the best thing that you and mom could have given me. I just wish Mom was around to see the headaches her kid gives Scott,” Michael grinned. “I think you two would have really been overloaded with both of them.”
“I suspect Scott would have given anything to have that burden. I know I would,” the man sounded sad.
Michael hugged him. “You’ve done a good job with us. I hope one day I could be as good of a father as you are. Of course, I also want to give my sister tons of nieces and nephews to terrorize her.”
“I hate to say this, son, but I don’t think she would be the best influence.”
“Well, then, I’ll have you two to help knock her down a peg or two, right? Get some sleep, you look tired.”
“I am. See you in the morning and remember not to bother Scott. He’s a bear with a hangover.”
“Yeah, we need to talk with him about setting a better example,” Michael snickered.
Dr. Quimby grinned. “Go for it. That old geezer can still kick my ass, especially in that mood.”
“Chicken shit.”
“Nah, self-preservation. Night son, sleep well.”
***
Sam woke early the following morning, disoriented for a moment while looking about her bedroom. She opened her windows to let in the cold morning air. She was the morning person, loving the sprays
of sunlight on her face while her brother loved the quiet of the night and the sprinkling of stars. Probably one of the only differences they had. She recalled her conversation with him from the night before. Still in her pajamas, she brushed her teeth then sauntered across the hall to Michael’s room. He was still asleep. With a wicked giggle, his sister threw open the curtains and, without mercy, jumped on top of him.
“Hey! You little shit, you wait, I’m gonna get you!” Michael yelled, racing after her down the stairs. It was like old times as they loudly tore around the living room, jumping over the furniture and yelling at the top of their lungs. “I’m gonna hurt you! Get over here you little brat!” Michael shouted, chasing her around the couch.
“Gooooood Morning! You can’t catch me,” she shrieked, laughing and dodging as he dove for her.
“What the hell is going on here!” Scott shouted, rubbing his head.
Dr. Quimby also appeared at the top of the stairs. “Cut it out, you two! I told you to be quiet and let Scott sleep,” he shouted, stomping down the stairs.
Ignoring them, Michael made a grab for his kid sister, catching an armful of air as she rolled away.
“Freeze! Now,” Scott shouted at the top of his lungs. Both froze. “You are both grounded through this weekend! Hear me? To your rooms!” Scott yelled.
Sam marched straight over to her uncle, hands on her hips and looking up fearlessly into his scowling face. “With all due respect, SIR, you are being a butthead!” she shouted back. Dr. Quimby and Michael looked at each other before both quickly retreated upstairs where it was safe.
“What did you say to me, young lady?”
“I said that you are being a butthead,” she repeated herself in a quieter, calmer tone.
Scott grabbed her arm, half-dragging, half-carrying her to the couch. “I will not tolerate disrespect!” he roared, flipping her across his lap.
“I wasn’t being disrespectful! You told me I could tell you when you were being a butthead, and you are! Hey!” she yelped, trying to escape him as he skinned her pajamas and panties down.
He landed a heavy smack across her bottom. “I said you could tell me respectfully!” He smacked her again. “Not shout in my face.”
“You were shouting first! OW!”
“Of course I was! You two woke me out of a sound sleep. With a headache.” He smacked her a fourth time.
She squealed. “With a hangover you mean! Whatever happened to you providing a good example! OOOOWWWW!”
Scott paused, watching her wiggle across his lap. He administered one more smack and stood her up. “Do you remember how to make French toast?” Sam nodded, wiping her eye where a tear had threatened to escape. He ruffled her messy hair. “Go on, then. With coffee. An entire pot, please.”
Sam nodded, dodging his hand as she adjusted her clothes and scurried past him. Scott plopped onto the couch, head in his hands, rubbing his aching temple.
“Is it safe to come down?” Dr. Quimby asked.
Scott shot him a bird. “Your daughter has a big mouth. Thanks.” He accepted the Excedrin and glass of water. “Tell Michael to get his ass down here with the family. I’m reneging on the restriction.”
“Like you could really keep a 22 year old in his room?” Dr. Quimby chuckled, elbowing his friend.
Scott grunted. “If I confine a man to quarters, I expect obedience. I don’t care how old he is. MIKE!”
“Scott, you do know you can be a total asshole when you have a hangover, right?”
“So I’ve been told. No, she didn’t say I was an asshole, she called me a butthead. She also said I was a bad example. She’s right, damn it.”
“Here’s your coffee, Uncle Scott.”
“Thank you. Mmmmm, perfect. You are the only one who can make it right. Come here,” he said, pulling her onto his lap after setting the cup down. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s ok. I did raise my voice to you,” she shrugged.
Scott kissed her cheek. “With good reason. Mike!” he shouted again, making her wince.
“Ow, my ear.”
“Yes, Sir?” Michael approached cautiously.
His uncle beckoned to him, patting the couch. “Sit. I owe you both an apology. I can be a real grouch….”
“Butthead.” Sam piped in.
Scott looked at her, sighed, and then nodded. “Butthead when I have one too many. No more, I promise. You’re right, I need to set a better example for you. Please forgive me.”
“Of course. You do realize, though, I am an adult and—”
“And what, young man? Too old to be grounded, but young enough to chase your little sister around the living room like when you were nine and she drew all over your face with a marker?”
“Or when you were ten and she threw a glass of ice water in your face?” Dr. Quimby laughed.
“Or when you were 11 and she put snails in your bed?”
“Or when you were 12 and she used a bucket—”
“Okay! I get it. And I got this!” Michael announced, capturing his sister. He flipped her to the floor and sat on her, arms held above her head with one large hand. He began to poke her sides, ignoring her screams for mercy. She was red in the face when he finally released her.
“I swear, you two are driving me nuts. What got into you?” Dr. Quimby asked, punching his son’s arm. Michael shared about their discussion from the night before, and then apologized to his uncle for forgetting about his morning wake up call.
“I’ll get over it. Is food ready?”
“Almost. On the deck?” Sam asked, pushing her brother off her lap and pinching his thigh.
“Nah, bring it in here. Chill, Joe, we never get to eat in the living room. Don’t be so uptight.”
“Bite me.” Dr. Quimby retorted.
Sam brought in the food, more coffee and juice, laying it on the coffee table for everyone to help themselves. Scott leaned back, happy to be home. “Mmm, perfect, just like her coffee. Thank you, sweetie. How’s the bottom?”
“You owe me a reprieve next time I’m in trouble, mister,” she said, rubbing her sit spot.
Scott looked amused, his headache resolving. “No problem, I’ll just reduce whatever I choose to give you by 5.”
“6. And that’s not fair.”
“Awww, poor baby. Is there anyone here who would like to go out on a flight today? Hmmm?”
Sam jumped up excitedly, landing in his lap. “Me! Really?”
“I was actually thinking of doing some cliff sailing,” Dr. Quimby mentioned.
Scott laughed, seeing his niece’s reaction. “How about both? We’ll fly up the coast and go from there.”
“Yeah!” the girl screamed, jumping up and down on her uncle’s lap.
Scott caught her mid-way. “Easy girl, you’re gonna hurt me. Eat some breakfast then get cleaned up. Toss me the phone, old man, I’ll call for reservations. Mike, you get the dishes.”
Dr. Quimby smiled, handing the phone to his friend. He loved Scott’s spontaneity which was something he never was very good at. He elbowed his son. The delight on Scott’s face was so worth the shouting match.
“He just loves to take command, doesn’t he?” Michael asked his father.
“It takes so little to make him happy. I’ll help you.” Dr. Quimby said, gathering the dishes and heading towards the kitchen. They both stopped to stare. It was obvious who had been cooking.
“How does she manage to make such a mess?” the father asked, picking egg shells up from the floor.
“My fault, I encouraged her to stop trying to be so good.”
“Fine, but egg yolks on the ceiling?”
Chapter Eight
The month went by quickly. Feeling refreshed and ready to start back at work, the four readied themselves in cammies for their first day on duty at the research station in Pt. Loma. Sam held her chin high, eyes forward, as she followed the Generals through the facility. She was very aware of the curious stares from the personnel—and the glares from the c
ivilian scientists. She was perceived as a threat. Relief washed through her when she saw the familiar faces of her small crew of research techs and engineers from the Allegro.
Excusing himself, Scott took Dr. Quimby to the conference room. “Take care of your sister, she’s nervous,” he whispered to Michael.
The squad leader called the unit to attention to introduce the new commanders. Sam felt eyes drilling into her as she was sized up by her new personnel. She maintained her composure, sensing her brother’s support. She knew there would be a few challenges her way. There always were.
Michael placed them at ease and requested the crew be seated. “First, I must make something clear,” he started, seeing the glances towards his sister who stood rigidly next to him, “I believe in running a relaxed but responsible research team. When we are working, and not concerned about protocol, you have my permission to address me by first name, which is Mike. I will be your unit commander and lead engineer. In case some of you were wondering about my qualifications, my credentials include a PhD in Oceanic Physics and neuroengineering. I also keep a full open door policy for anyone with questions, concerns, or ideas. We are a team here and there are no stars. I understand that my sister and I have a certain reputation. I assure you that, despite our relationship with the flag officers, we both believe in hard work. Neither of us will ever ask anything of you that we ourselves refuse to do. Questions?”
He waited, seeing heads shaking before he continued. “Very good. I’m sure you noticed the increase in personnel here. These are selected members from the Allegro. If you have any questions, I’m sure any of them would be happy to help. We have nurtured a very strong family environment here and we want to welcome you into it. How many of you have been briefed regarding us? Seriously? No-one?”
“Lieutenant?” one of the Allegro’s men interrupted, “I was instructed by General Jenkins to allow you to do the briefing, especially regarding the, uh, unique circumstance.”
“Very well. Figures,” he whispered to his stiff sister. He placed his large hand on her shoulder. “Gentlemen, I would like you to introduce you to Lt. Samantha Quimby. She will be responsible for the biolab and Recon.”
The Siren, the General's Daughter Book One Page 10
