Punishing the Brats

“Did you clean ‘em up?” he asked.

He was so close he could smell the cinnamon off her breath, the little bit of fiery sweetness. It suited her that day.

Her blue eyes were cloudy as she stared up at him, and he wondered what she was thinking. If she’d smelled them, if the sight of them had gotten her horny.

Oh, he hoped it got her horny.

Mad, fine, but he wanted her hot and turned on for him.

“I didn’t find them until after I’d done the laundry,” she said, sidestepping the direct answer and giving him an indirect one.

Zach’s eyes narrowed, and he was suspicious of that evasion.

“What’d you do with ‘em then?” he asked through nearly gritted teeth, that repressed anger still beneath the surface of the towering man as he loomed over her, his large hand gripping her shoulder.

“Put them aside,” she said with a shrug, pulling away from his hold, her brows knit.

He always used to tease her when they were growing up about how she’d blink fast when she was telling a lie or something she didn’t want anyone else to know.

And she was blinking like crazy.

Zach grabbed for her with both hands, taking hold of her two slender shoulders and keeping her there as he interrogated her.

“Come on,” he said, trying to soften his voice. “Tell me. What’d you do with ‘em?” He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish. Initially he wanted to find out if she’d destroyed the evidence, then it devolved into some twisted fantasy of her holding onto them for her own kinky purposes.

His dick guided his thinking, ultimately, and his questioning.

“You holdin’ onto ‘em for somethin’ special, huh?” he said, looking her over, as if his eyes could pierce her clothing. “You… wearin’ ‘em now?” he said, and a grin formed on his face despite his attempts not to.

Now that would be some kinky shit. His sister wearing the panties he’d jerked off into.

She wouldn’t look at him, avoiding his eyes as her breathing started getting shallower, and she was delaying answering him too long. She was trying to come up with a response.

She was struggling to concoct a lie! He just knew it.

“They’re in the laundry!” she said to the ground.

Zach had a propensity for being impulsive, and with his dick in the driving seat, now was no different. He kept a tight hold on her shoulder as he reached down, his strong, grabbing hand reaching for her pants.

“Lemme see here,” he said, putting pressure down upon her shoulder, to force her into bending over as he struggled with her to free her of her pants and see what panties she wore.

* * *

Sylvia

No, no, no, no! How could she have been so brazen? Why had she put them on?

She knew how wrong it was, how gross. But she was just... curious. And honestly, she didn’t figure he’d be home at all that night. It was a Saturday, after all, and he usually was over at Jacob’s.

She twisted away from him, her jeans luckily holding true, though he picked her off the ground for a moment and her feet flailed.

“Let me down, Zach!”

He was so much bigger than her, but still her struggling and the tightness of her jeans made it difficult, and as she squirmed to get away, they tumbled to the sofa together. The two of them were an intertwined mess, but with that huge bulk of his frame atop her, she wasn’t escaping anywhere anytime soon.

Zach pressed upon her, her hand pushing at his thick forearm, bulging with veins, in absolute futility as he worked at her fly.

“C’mon, just a peek, lessee,” he said, grinning so deviously as he fought with her to get them down, even just a few inches to confirm!