The first in the Carlos/Danielle series. Danielle introduces herself and her mixed-up family life. Then she tries ecstasy for the first time with a couple of friends and gets chased around by a crazy guy with a bat. Her step-brother saves the day, but to say the least, he’s not pleased with her behavior.
My mom remarried when I was 11. That made my family turn from two people into four. And a few months later, there were five of us. We’re not your average family. I mean, we could be. We have the Mom and Dad and three kids, a dog, and a parrot. My littlest brother watches Saturday Morning Cartoons while my mom cooks breakfast. But otherwise, we’re far from normal.
See, first you have me. I’m fifteen-going-on-sixteen and apparently in the midst of my teenage hormone years. That’s what my mom says anyway. I can be a big brat sometimes, especially when I come home from school after a hard day, my hair in a ponytail bobbing around like I know everything, throwing my shoes against the wall and pouting that my day was “FINE, just fine.” Then there’s my mom. She’s a doctor in the ER at one of the charity hospitals. Well, that’s what most people call it anyway. It’s for the people who don’t have insurance and most of the patients are generally the working-class Hispanics. That’s where she met my step-dad, Juan, one afternoon when he came in with his son, Carlos, who had to have stitches because he’d gashed his arm open in a baseball game. Don’t ask me how it happened. Anyway, that brings me to Carlos, my lovely step brother. He’s four years older than me (which makes him nineteen), tall, thin, and a hunk, if I do say so myself. Most of my friends have a crush on him. Who wouldn’t? I mean, hell, even I would, if he wasn’t my step brother. So mom and Juan got married and then had child number three: Alex. He’s four years old now, and adorable as can be.
So now that I’ve introduced my family to you, you can probably tell that we’re far from normal. Living in a household with two different languages isn’t easy, not to mention that it isn’t easy explaining to your friends why your brother is Mexican. Not like they mind at all… they LOVE my step-bro, especially when he speaks in Spanish (they’re constantly hassling him to do so!). It’s also weird living in a family where my mom is the primary bread-winner. She’s the one who brings home the dinero. Not saying that Juan doesn’t work… he works his ass off. He’ll just probably always be stuck with low-paying labor jobs. I was always under the impression that it was the other way around… or at least that the father works and the mom doesn’t. But oh well… I like my family anyway, even if we are abnormal.
Anyway, on to my story. For my mom’s fifth year wedding anniversary, she decided that they should take a trip. A two week-long trip at that, leaving Carlos in charge of his unruly step-sister while grandma and grandpa took care of baby Alex. They were first off to Cancun where they could visit Juan’s parents and finally off to Hawaii where they’d spend the last week. I was jealous, as you can imagine. I wanted to go to Cancun and Hawaii!! But noooo, I had to go to school. Dammit.
“Come on, Danielle,” Carlos mumbled sleepily as he stood in my doorway in only a pair of jeans. “Just get up already.”
“Can’t I just skip school today? It’s Friday… it’s not like we’re doing anything anyway!” I groaned, rolling over to face the wall.
“Sorry, you gotta go. If you don’t, next time they’re out of town WE’LL have to stay with grandparents, too.”
“But I’m sick,” I said, coughing slightly, my last pitiful attempt to skip school.
He sighed. “Come on, hermana. Just get up. Please?” he begged and it was so adorable that I couldn’t resist.
“Fine, but only for you.”
He smiled. “Gracias!”
I dragged myself out of bed, hoping for another non-dramatic day in my life. I was constantly wishing for those days because sometimes my life was too dramatic to handle. I was sick of drama. I was ready for something simple. But there’s always drama when you hang out with Hispanics.
I arrived to school in my short skirt, knee high boots, black shirt, and tie. I was cute for some reason. Not sure why, but I was. Not like I was trying to impress any guys. Lucky me, Carlos left the house before I got dressed, else he’d have seen me in that skirt. He and his father went well with my mom because they were all conservative. Hopefully I could train Alex to be better.
“Danielle, you know that Principal Hightower is starting to become a Nazi about dresscode.” That was my best friend, Michelle. She was always on the lookout for me, but always keeping me in trouble.
I rolled my eyes. “Who cares? It’s not like my parents are home anyway, it’s only Carlos and he wouldn’t do anything. Besides, I wouldn’t mind if they sent me home. Would rather be there than here anyway!”
“But when your mom comes back home you’ll be in tons of trouble.”
She’d been there before when Mom went off on me. Bleh, I don’t like thinking about that night. You know those nights that you wear too much makeup and stay out past curfew hoping to pick up a few guys? That’s what Michelle and I had been doing that night. When we came home, Mom was livid. She ordered me too my room and called Michelle’s parents to pick her up. Later that night I’d gotten a text message from my best friend wondering if I was okay. Needless to say, I was lying on my stomach with a sore bottom. It’s true that Juan was only my stepdad, but Mom made it clear that he’d carry out discipline if it needed be. And he was a firm believer in spankings. That night I got it from both parents. Yeouch.
“Carlos won’t tell. He’s been on my end before. He wouldn’t want me to be in trouble with them.” And with that, the bell rang and we were both tardy to our first period class.
The day didn’t go by uneventful as I’d wanted it to. After getting a tardy to my first period class, I managed to get in trouble for talking during second period, failed to dress out for gym, and then got accused of PDA (public display of affection… come on people, we were just snuggling!) during lunch. That last mark got me sent to the office where I was scolded for the various things I’d done that day and given a detention slip for dress code violation. I was to stay in detention the rest of the afternoon and have a note sent home for my brother to sign.
I was relieved when the bell rang to dismiss us from school. Michelle caught the bus with me and we sat in our stinky hot seats with the window rolled down blowing wind in our faces.
“What’s up for the night?” I asked, staring out of the window.
“My friend has us the hook up. We’ll get fried and stay the night at Miguel’s house. You know how he is. He’ll love having two girls stay the night at his house.”
Let me translate this for you: My friend has ecstasy, we can crash at our 18 year old Mexican friend’s house because he lives with only a roommate, and he’ll brag to his friends about having two white girls at his house. Sounds like a good deal? Well, it does to me!
“Sounds good. I don’t know if Carlos will go for it, though,” I admitted.
“Well, if he doesn’t, you can just sneak out. It’s not like you haven’t done it before. I’ll help you back home before he gets up. What time does he get up anyway?”
“Too early for me to handle. Probably the crack of dawn or something. He always watches cartoons with Alex on Saturdays.”
She nodded, contemplating. “We’ll get you back home before you come down. It’ll be fine. He’ll never know.”
I smiled. She was right… how would he know?
As if my day couldn’t get anymore dramatic than it had already been, I decided to go ahead and give the note to Carlos. I didn’t want to forget it and have to suffer through a couple more days detention and a potential phone call home. I always had the tendency to forget things.
He wasn’t a very happy camper. He cursed to himself in Spanish then waved the note around frantically, asking me what I was thinking, wearing such clothes to school when I knew they were a violation of the dress code. I just rolled my eyes and told him that the dress code was stupid and I should be able to wear whatever I wanted.
“We’ll see how stupid the dress code is when you spend the weekend at home.”
“But Carlos!” I whined. “I already have plans!” Well, I kinda did, even if he wasn’t going to know about them.
“Not anymore,” he answered, walking away to denote that the conversation was over.
I stomped my foot and pouted, storming towards my room and slamming the door, listening as a picture fell that had been hanging on the wall. Oops.
“Danielle Grace!” I heard Carlos yell and I winced.
“Sorry!” I yelled back.
He opened the door, a look of sheer anger on his face. He took a glance at me and his face softened, seeing my pouty lip as I sat on the bed.
“Look,” he said, buttoning up his shirt, “I have to work tonight, and I know that you want to go out. There’s no way I can stop you. But if I ever hear of you pulling a stunt like this again, you’ll be sitting at the restuarant all night watching me wait tables, got it?”
I couldn’t help but let out that smirk. “I got it,” I said and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
He smiled back. “Behave,” he ordered. “I’ll be back home around eleven. Don’t do anything you’re not supposed to.”
Me? Do anything I’m not supposed to? How could he think that!!! (I guess even he could tell that my halo was a little tilted..) “I’ll be good,” I promised.
With a shut of the door, I felt the freedom. Yay! The whole house to myself for about five hours! What the hell was I going to do? Just carry on with my bland, boring life…
Surprisingly, those five hours I was home alone were the *least* dramatic hours of my day. I basically just sat around watching tv and talking on the phone, discussing plans with Michelle. Since Carlos wouldn’t be home until at least eleven, we couldn’t do our stuff til about twelve, which meant that I wouildn’t be able to come home until four (and it wouldn’t even be close to being worn off yet!!). Ah well, I wouldn’t mind coming down off of it at my house. I could at least talk on the phone because there’d be no chance in hell of sleeping. At least from what I’ve heard about ecstasy. As much as it sounds like I’ve tried it before, I really never have.
About ten she called and said that she got the stuff, about ten-thirty, Carlos came walking in through the door, and at eleven, as if on cue, I yawned and headed sleepily “to bed.” Fifteen minutes later, I pried the window open and jumped out, scampering through the bushes towards Miguel’s house.
We knew Miguel from Juan, surprisingly enough. They used to work together at the golf course cutting grass and stuff. He’d always talk to us when we came around and eventually we befriended one another. He’s one of those guys that Juan sees as another son, so at least if they found out we were at Miguel’s house this time of night, they wouldn’t freak out as badly as they would otherwise.
“Wow, you’re earlier than I expected,” Michelle said, handing me a tiny white pill with the imprint of a bird on it. “It’s the white dove, give it a try.”
I inspected it a moment, tracing my finger over the tiny dove, wondering what kind of shit I was about to get myself into. Not thinking about the consequences, I popped it in my mouth and swallowed, washing it down with some water. Michelle had already taken hers, but didn’t seem much different.
We waited for what seemed like ages. Miguel was just messing around and cracking jokes in Spanish because he didn’t know much English. I could somewhat carry on a conversation and be the mediator so Michelle knew what was going on, but that was about all. We taught him out to say some dirty stuff in English, which was pretty funny. Then, like someone threw a rock at me, the damn stuff hit.. and I mean HARD.
One minute I was sitting there trying to teach him how to talk in English, the next, the room was blurring and I felt a big rush to my head and just started giggling. I turned to look at Michelle and her pupils were as big as nickels. Miguel looked at us as if we were crazy.
“Are you crazy yet?” he asked us, in English of course.
“Yesssss!!!” I groaned, smiling and giggling at Michelle who was going completely crazy.
I don’t remember much of what was happening, just being goofy and talking in weird voices and thinking that I was seeing shit. I kept worrying about what time it was and Miguel kept making stupid faces at us. I talked in Spanish, a lot, because it was entertaining to try and pronounce those words.
Everything was going fine and dandy, til about three in the morning. We were coming down, I guess. As in, we weren’t as crazy as we had been and I was getting a little sleepy. Therefore, it had to be wearing off. And of course, about this time, we heard a commotion outside. Miguel went to see what it was all about, and being curious teenagers, we did, too.
There were two Mexicans wrestling on the ground, one beating the shit out of another, and about six others standing around watching. Miguel, Michelle, and I stood on the stairs, watching for a minute until one stood up and started cussing the other out. The other shot back words that sounded like murder. Literally. He wanted to kill the other guy. Then he looked at the big group that had been there watching, and swore at them, wanting also, to end their lives. I couldn’t believe this!
“Fuck this,” I muttered, “I’m getting out of here.”
Miguel held me back, not allowing me to go down the stairs. He was talking to me, and I finally understood that he was saying the guy had a knife. Then I saw its gleam underneath the streetlights.
“Shit!” I screamed, and ran down the stairs. “Fucking leave them alone!” I yelled at the guy with the knife, being overwhelmed by the smell of budlight. “Go home, just go away!”
He said something to me that I couldn’t make out, showing me the knife as he did so.
“Danielle!” Miguel shouted, but I ignored him (like an idiot).
“Please… just leave them alone. Just go home..” I pleaded, tears almost to my eyes.
He said some other words that I understood and my eyes narrowed. No one EVER called me that..
“Chinga tu Madre!” I yelled and heard a gasp across the group. Word of advice: never say that to a drunk Mexican. He broke in a run after me, waving that fucking knife around and I hauled ass, not even realizing that I could run that fast. My house was only a couple of blocks away and the ecstasy hadn’t worn off yet so I was able to run like superman.
The crazy man was yelling obscenities at me the entire run, but he kept as close to me as possible. I was almost to tears because I was so scared and my conscience was yelling at me for not listening to Miguel, or even Carlos when he’d told me to stay away from those guys. It was all too late now, and all I could do was run for my life and hope that he’d leave me alone once I got home (or preferrably, get tired and pass out before we made it home).
I finally made it to my house where the porch light was on and I charged inside, slamming the door shut and locking it. The fact that Carlos was sitting in the recliner silently watching tv didn’t phase me one bit.
“It’s a guy,” I panted, out of breath and clutching my stomach. “Chasing me..”
The guy banged on the door, still shouting stuff. He was still calling me names, trying to get the door open.
“He has a knife!” I told Carlos as he walked towards the door. He grabbed the bat before opening it.
It’s kind of a blur, what happened after that. The crazy guy swore at Carlos, and Carlos swore back, each of them calling the other name, and Carlos basically telling him to fuck off and leave his little sister alone. I was crying by now, begging Carlos to just come inside and forget about what was happening, but he ignored me and walked out of the door, bat in hand, finally banging it against the railing next to the stairs and sending the crazy guy away.
He turned around, walked back inside, slamming the door shut and locking it, throwing the bat on the floor.
He muttered some stuff in Spanish that I understood well enough to know that he was royally pissed. “What the hell is going on, hermana?” he asked. “What the hell was that all about?”
I was bawling my eyes out, covering my face with my hands because I was so scared and shaking.
“Tell me, Danielle.”
“I don’t know,” I choked out.
“What the hell are you doing out at three in the morning? Don’t you know I’m worried sick about you?”
“I knowwww,” I cried.
He plopped himself down on the couch and waited for my tears to subside. He was still in his work uniform, a long sleeved button-up shirt that was tucked in with black pants and a belt. Girls flaunted over him in that. Can’t really say I blamed them. Even then, being as mad as he was, I still thought he looked sexy.
I finally wiped the tears away and looked at him. He stared me in the eyes, finally standing up, a look of worry on his face.
“What are you on?” he asked.
“I’m so scared.”
“Danielle… what did you take? Your eyes are big. What the hell are you on?”
I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said, looking away from him.
He grabbed my chin with his hand and turned my face towards him. “Look me straight in the eyes and tell me you haven’t taken any drugs.”
I began crying again. “Ecstasy!” I finally told him, stomping my foot and almost going completely crazy. “I’m on ecstasy and it won’t fucking wear off and I’m scared of that guy and he wants to kill me!”
He let go of my chin, biting his lower lip and running some fingers through his hair. “Calm down, hermana,” he said, pulling me towards him and embracing me tightly. “Shhh,” he cooed. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. He’s not coming back.”
“I’m sorrryyyyy,” I pleaded, face still buried in his chest.
“Shhhh,” he pet my hair and rocked me back and forth until I was calm enough and not crying anymore.
“I’m so scared,” I said again.
“Come on, let’s go to bed,” he offered, releasing me from the hug and dragging me slightly by the wrist down the hallway.
“I don’t wanna be alone!”
“You can sleep in my room. Come on, hermana. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
And the thing was, I did feel safe… at least with Carlos around. He kept his arm around my shoulder and lead me to his room. I fell onto the bed and he untucked his shirt, then unbuttoned it, slipping it off and revealing his white undershirt. Then he took off his pants and folded them neatly, putting on a pair of pj pants. I groaned, rolling over. “I need water,” I complained.
I heard him walk away, but I was unphased, seeing as I was half asleep and dreaming. They weren’t real dreams because I knew I was awake. I felt like what I was dreaming was really happening… like there really was a little boy next to me talking to me. But I knew once I opened my eyes he’d disappear.
Carlos came back in the room, a glass of water in his hands. “Here, Danielle, drink up,” he told me, sitting the glass down on his night stand next to me. I took little sips (that’s what I’d been advised to do), and rested my head back against the pillow.
“I don’t feel so well.”
“I wouldn’t imagine so,” he answered, taking my shoes off, then my socks. “Let’s get some sleep, okay? You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I don’t think either of us got much sleep that night. I kept talking in my sleep and Carlos kept answering me. I think it was probably a little amusing to him, because I was saying completely and utterly stupid things. It’s good that he could have a laugh, considering the circumstances.
When I finally woke up, Carlos was already up and had the cartoons blaring as he scrambled some eggs.
“Good to see you woke up on your own. I know it’s early, and you had a rough night, but you’re coming to work with me today.”
I groaned, rubbing my eyes sleepily, seeing him dressed in that same uniform. He had to work the day shift today. The six hour shift. From eleven in the morning until five in the evening, maybe longer. “Do I have to go?” I whined, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“Oh yeah. What kind of brother would I be to let my hermana stay at home alone after what happened last night?”
I poked my lower lip out. “Everything’s fine. Like you said, the guy won’t be coming back anytime soon.”
He scraped the eggs onto a plate and turned around. “Oh, I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you. How can I trust you when you snuck out last night, did some drugs, then nearly got yourself killed?”
I whined. “You can still trust me. I learned my lesson,” I assured him.
“Uh huh,” he answered, pouring two glasses of milk and sitting down next to me. He handed one to me and offered some eggs.
“No thanks, I’m not hungry.”
He shrugged. “If you get hungry, you’re paying for your own meal,” he told me.
“I’m not worried about it.” I didn’t like the food at his restuarant, and even if I did, I doubted I’d be getting hungry anytime soon.
“Would you care to explain yourself now, or wait until after work?”
“There’s not much to explain, is there? Looks to me like you’ve got it nailed..”
“So there was no logical reasoning behind what you did last night?” he asked, staring me in the eyes.
“Not really. Just curious.”
“Drugs are dangerous, Danielle Grace. You know that, I know you do. How many drug ed and health classes have you taken?”
“Too many,” I mumbled.
“And you *still* didn’t learn?”
“Not the time to be a smartass, Young Lady.” I cringed at that word. I was only called that when in serious trouble. It used to be that only my mom used it, but she’d somehow let Juan in on her little secret, and now even *he* called me that in some situations. And NOW Carlos was using it! What is the deal??
“Sorry,” I muttered.
He finished up his breakfast and put his dishes in the sink, rinsing them out. “Get dressed. I’ve gotta leave in ten minutes.”
I pushed away from the table and took a quick shower, finding a decent pair of jeans and a T-shirt, as well as a notebook so I’d have something to doodle in while I sat in the corner of On the Border, doing absolutely nothing. I finished brushing my teeth and ran out the door to Carlos who was sitting in his car, engine already started and airconditioner blowing. It was a nice fall day, and I was spending it inside of a nasty Mexican restuarant (sorry, I just really don’t like their food!) doing absolutely nothing. Thanks to me being stupid. If only I’d listened to Miguel and stayed upstairs with them instead of getting involved in that fight… Carlos would have never found out.
Of course he would have. He knows everything. He knew before I came home that I’d snuck out. Blah. What a terrible day this was going to be.
He combed his hair as we pulled up to the restuarant with that big neon sign that said “On the Border” in big bold letters. “Give me your cell phone,” he ordered.
“But Carlos!” I begged.
“But nothing. Give it to me, now.”
“What am I supposed to do for six hours??”
“Think about what you’ve done, how much trouble you’re in, and what kind of consequences there are going to be for your actions.”
I pouted, thinking this was a big enough consequence.
“I expect you to write me a four page essay on the dangers of drugs and sneaking out of the house. If it’s not finished by the end of work, you’ll regret not doing it.”
I gulped. “Okay,” I answered.
It was the slow most boring day of my life. As I sat there writing the essay, all I could think about was how I wished my life was anti-climatic. Some people go around trying to create drama, and I just try to avoid it. I don’t understand how that works. Why can’t the people who want drama have a dramatic life and those of us like me have a life without it? Life is so strange sometimes.
The four page essay took up only a sixth of the time I was there. That means I still had five hours to kill and I was getting bored pretty quickly. I people-watched for the most part. Watched the couple next to me try to pronounce the names of the food on the menu, watched the kids run around the restuarant creating trouble, saw people complain about the food. Nothing interesting happened. Carlos seemed like a really good waiter, and I noticed that he made tons of tips. At one point in time I considered taking a couple of dollars, but I didn’t. Instead I just ordered a water and munched on some chips to try and settle my stomach.
Finally, after what seemed like days, five o’clock finally rolled around and Carlos waved me to the front.
“That was so boring,” I told him.
“Ah, well, just think… you’ll get to do that all week!”
“Nooooo… please don’t make me.”
He shrugged. “Too bad. Should’ve thought about that before you got yourself into trouble. Did you write me that essay?”
“Yes, and I proofread it about eighty times, and then rewrote it. How pathetic is that?”
“Not so pathetic. I mean, after all, you had plenty of time.”
We rode home in near silence. I was convinced that my punishment would be staying by his side at all times, but I guess he had something different in mind. When we arrived at my house, I tried to make my way towards my room, but he stopped me.
“We have to have our talk,” he said, pointing to the couch for me to sit down.
“We do? I thought the essay…”
“Sit, Danielle,” he said sternly, looking deep into my eyes.
I gulped and sat down on the couch, hypnotized by his gaze.
“Now, tell me, what possessed you to do something so stupid?”
“Um, which part?”
“The whole night. Tell me. What’s the deal?”
I explained to him that I was curious, that my friends wanted to try it, that I’m just an idiot and don’t know why I stooped so low. He shook his head at me, lecturing me on the dangers of all that I’d done.
“Firstly, ecstasy can kill you. I know I don’t have to say that. I know that you know it. Secondly, sneaking out of the house at that time of night is dangerous. Anyone could kidnap you, rape you, or try and kill you. Thirdly, Miguel is bad news, especially if he hangs around with a group of guys who try to kill each other. If you’re going to go over there, use your head and DON’T approach someone with a knife. Come on, Danielle. You’re not stupid.”
“I know, but I was last night,” I admitted, hanging my head.
“You are NEVER to use those words, do you understand me?” He was referring to what I’d told the crazy guy. The thing that you should never tell Mexicans.
“If I ever catch something that dirty coming from your mouth, I’ll wash it out with soap. Understand?”
He began to roll up his sleeves. “As for the rest of the stuff that you did, I guess I need not say that a spanking would be the proper punishment?”
My mouth dropped to the floor. “Wait.. Carlos… a spanking? Aren’t you taking this too far?”
“Oh, believe me, honey… this ISN’T too far. I *could* spank you everyday, have you stay at the restuarant everyday, until your mom comes home, then tell her and Dad what you did. Would you like that?”
I shook my head. “But still. Isn’t making me stay a week with you enough punishment?”
“Nope.” He finished rolling up the other sleeve. “Stand.”
I bit my lower lip, resisting. “Please, Carlos.. not this… please.”
“The longer you resist, the harder I’m going to spank. I suggest you comply.”
I whined, standing. “But, I’m too old for this!”
“Your mom doesn’t seem to think so, nor does my dad. Nor do I.”
“But you’re my brother! I’m your hermana! Your sister! Please!”
He ignored me and sat down on the couch, pulling me towards him. “That’s why I’m doing this, hermana. Because I love you, and I don’t want to see you screw up your life with drugs.” He began to unbutton my jeans.
“Noooo,” I begged, but didn’t struggle as much as I’d have liked to.
“Yessss,” he mocked, taking it upon himself to unzip them as well, and finally tug them to the floor.
My hands flew to my bottom to protect it. Like that’d help any. He just pulled me over his lap and moved my hands out of the way. “You know as well as I do that you deserve this spanking.”
He was right… I *did* know that I deserved it… but that didn’t make it any easier to take! “Pleaseeeee… por favorrrrrr..” I’d taken to begging in Spanish! That’s how desperate I was.
“You’re going to get it good,” he assured me, pinning my hands down and fiddling with the wasteband of my panties before finally letting them meet my jeans.
I whined, almost throwing a fit. “Carlossss, pleaseeeee nooooo.” I must have sounded two years old (that’s how old I felt, anyway).
“Too late. Next time think about this *before* causing trouble.” He didn’t give me much of a warning, just slapped the hell out of my backside. I yelped so loudly you’d have thought I saw a rat crawling across the floor!
“OOowwwwww!!! Carlos!” I howled, but he continued slapping my bare bottom with all of his might. “Pleaseeeee, it hurtsss!!”
“Good, SMACK! SMACK! It better hurt! SMACK!!”
“Pleaseee no moreeeeee!!”
“I’ve only begun, little girl. SMACK SMACK SMACK!!”
I kicked and squirmed, trying to free my hands from his tight grip as he rained down harder smacks on my bottom. “Oooowwwww, Carlosssss… pleaseeeee, it hurts it hurts it hurts!!!”
He was unmoved, keeping the spanks coming. I was desperate, ready to try anything to end this spanking, but nothing was working. My kicking just earned me harder smacks, my squirming failed to get him to stop concentrating in the same spots, and my hands were never freed from his grip.
“Oowwwiess!!” I pleaded. “Please! No more! No mas! Me duele!!!” I was to the point of speaking in Spanish. How crazy is that?
His ears were even deaf to my Spanish pleas! He kept at it, spanking harder (though I thought it impossible), and finally letting some of his energy out on my sit spots and thighs. Owwies… that hurt more than anything.
“Carrlooosssss!!! I’m sorrrryyy!!”
“Good, I’m glad that I’m making an impression.”
“A big impression!!” I assured him. “Pleaseeee no more!!!”
“Not even close to being finished, hermana,” he told me.
That caused me to wail even more, if at all possible. There were a few actual tears falling, but I guess not enough to suit him. My crying was more like dry crying, if that makes sense. I don’t know.
“Next time you open your window to sneak out,” he began, spanking to enunciate each word, “think about this spanking and tell me if it’s worth it.” He paused from speaking to spank me more. “Next time you think about taking one of those pills, think about this. You are too important to me and the rest of your family to destroy your life over a little curiousity. You are too young to be thinking about drugs and if I were able, I’d take Michelle over my knee to teach her a thing or two, too.”
I kicked and squirmed and howled. “I won’t do it again!! I promise!!”
Carlos was still unmoved and kept spanking my bottom until my head was buried into the couch and I was sobbing my eyes out. I not only was in uber amounts of pain, but my heart ached for letting down my older brother, even if he was a step brother. He cared about me so much and I’d broken his trust. How could I do that?
“Get up, Danielle,” he told me, keeping a stern face. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he promised.
I would have whined more, but I was crying so hard that I couldn’t. My hands rushed to my eyes because I hated for people to see me cry. I tried to wipe the tears away but they were coming down too quickly. I could see scarcely between my hands and the tears that were falling. I noticed Carlos unbuckling his belt and taking the buckle, pulling it out from the loops. It was a black leather belt that I remembered him buying. He’d bought it at Dillard’s with his work uniform and some other clothes and when he came home, I remember Juan distinctively taking it in his hands, snapping it and telling Carlos that it’d be good to blister someone’s behind with. Damn. Why’d I have to be the one he tested it out on??
“Come on, hermana,” he said, helping me back across his lap and folding the belt over.
I cried more than ever, hearing him call me hermana, his sister… not a step sister, not the little girl he lived with, but his real sister. He loved me so much, cared for me, and I’d let him down. I felt terrible.
I felt even more terrible as he grabbed my wrists once again and lashed down the first blow with his belt. I must have howled loud enough to where the neighbors could hear me. The dog started barking and he landed another blow, right below the first, and then another, not bothering to take his time and let me regain myself. This hurt more than ever. I’d never actually been spanked with a belt, at least not on the bare bottom. It hurt like bloody hell. It was throbbing and stinging like crazy and I was squirming and kicking more than ever.
I couldn’t even talk, no matter how hard I tried to beg him to stop. It must have lasted no longer than a minute, and he finally stopped, releasing the tight grip on my hands, dropping the belt to the floor.
He rubbed my back gently, speaking in the same consoling voice that he had when I was scared of the crazy guy. “Shhhh, Danielle,” he cooed. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I love you, hermana. You’re my little sister. My baby sis. Te amo.”
I was trying to talk back to him, but everytime I tried to speak, my words came out in broken sobs instead. He just kept me over his lap and talked to me softly, trying to soothe me, trying to stop my crying. Eventually, it worked. It took a while, but I regained my composure and was able to talk again. “I’m sorry,” were the first words out of my mouth.
“I know. You’re forgiven,” he promised.
“I won’t do it again.”
“I hope not.”
I pushed myself up with my hands and rolled off of his lap, panties and pants down at my ankles. I couldn’t help it… I fell into a hug. He held me tightly, nearly setting me off into tears again.
“It’s going to be hard sitting down while you’re working tomorrow,” I admitted.
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll remember this lesson for a long time.”