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A Kiss of the Whip
Brunsbüttel, Germany-1938

Lyla Drechsler sat on her canopy bed and listened to the movements downstairs as her older stepsister Gretchen prepared to leave with her suitor Adimar Hurst for the Parliamentary Banquet in Hamburg.

She heard Gretchen request to Fiona, the housekeeper, for a bath to be prepared for her when she returned that evening. Lyla thought of how Gretchen loved to have a housekeeper, or a "servant" as she called it, and the bizarre demands she gave her. Unnecessary demands like for Fiona to personally feed her breakfast and dinner as one would a child. Or for Fiona to sit in Gretchen's bedroom at night and watch her undress. She would then stand in front of the full-length mirror and ask Fiona to comment on her body. What Lyla thought of her stepsister's strange desires never seemed to concern Gretchen.

It appeared to Lyla that her stepsister finally left for the banquet. With no one was home now besides Fiona and herself. She walked to her bedroom door and looked out to see if anyone was around. There wasn't, so Lyla crossed the carpeted hallway and sneaked into Gretchen's room.

The smell of her stepsister's perfume lingered throughout the room, and the abrupt change in brightness caused Lyla to squint her eyes. The lavender painted walls matched the sheer curtains that framed the bay windows overlooking the Kiel Canal.

On the vanity table at the corner of the room sat a pearl-lined jewelry box given to Gretchen by her father months before the car accident that took the lives of both him and Lyla's mother. Their marriage lasted only nine months, long enough for Gretchen to develop deep resentment toward her stepmother and her only daughter.

Lyla, although fearful of Gretchen, felt sympathy toward her as well. At thirteen Gretchen's mother, in an act of severe despair, went down to the shore, stripped off her clothes, and walked into the North Sea. To this day her body has never been recovered. Lyla could not imagine the loneliness Gretchen must have felt. Her father, desperate to improve Gretchen's mood, showered her with gifts. One of which Lyla yearned to possess.

She opened the jewelry box and pulled out a twenty-four karat gold necklace with a custom Swarovski crystal pendant. The amber colored crystal shimmered in the afternoon sunlight.
Lyla, who did not know her paternal father, never received gifts such as this. Nevertheless, at this moment the necklace belonged to her.

Lyla unfastened the clasp and laid it across her neck. Immediately she felt like Gretchen, full of poise and glamor. She took notice of herself in the vanity mirror. Her short black hair fell in greasy strands over her eyes, and her thin lips looked chapped and sore. The feeling of glamor faded into the reality of herself.

This whole time Gretchen stood at the doorway behind her, "take my necklace off your filthy neck you thief!"

"I thought you were gone to the banquet," Lyla said in complete shock.

"I said take my necklace off your filthy neck!"

Gretchen ran to Lyla and ripped the necklace off her. She then slapped her with the back of her hand. The diamond ring she always wore put a gash on the side of Lyla's face.

"If you must know," Gretchen replied. "I came back to retrieve my purse, but I'm glad I did because it seems I have a thief living with me, don't I."

"No Gretchen, I-

"Enough! No more of your lies." Gretchen again slapped Lyla and knocked her to the floor.

Gretchen started to laugh at Lyla, "So you want my things, no? You want to be me?"

"I'm sorry Gretchen-

"You always say that-I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Those words mean nothing to me," Gretchen grabbed the back of Lyla's hair and pulled her head back. "Don't tell me you're me you're sorry."

Gretchen walked over to the bedroom door and shut it. She then reached into the bottom drawer of her clothes dresser and pulled out a black leather horse whip she used during riding school in Vienna.

"No..." Lyla cried out. "Gretchen please, I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything you want-

"Yes," Gretchen said in peculiar satisfaction. "You will do anything I want. You have no choice."

She took hold of Lyla's green house dress and tore it off. Lyla who now sat her bra and panties began to scream.

Gretchen's breathing became heavy as she walked around the quivering body of her younger stepsister.

"Are you sorry for entering my room?" Gretchen asked.

Reluctant at first to answer, Lyla mumbled, "yes."

"I don't believe you," Gretchen said as she sliced the whip down over Lyla's naked back. A red stip of blood formed as Lyla let out a tortured scream.

Gretchen asked, "are you sorry for going through my things?"

Lyla was too shocked to answer.

"I guess that means no." She again swung the whip down toward her back. Lyla lost her breath in the agonizing pain.

Gretchen began to laugh again at the crouched body of her stepsister, "You should have seen your face when I found you in my room. You looked like a frightened rat."

She then started to whip Lyla numerous times. Each slash of the horse whip drew specks of blood that dotted Gretchen's burgundy corset dress and her face.

Out of breath, Gretchen threw the whip onto her bed and walked over to the bench next to the bay window and sat as Lyla sobbed in pain.

"That wasn't so bad was it little sister?" Gretchen asked as she removed her patented leather heels. "Now I have one more thing for you to do. Crawl over here and kiss my feet."

Lyla's body almost went into shock. Her arms and legs trembled as the tears in her eyes made it impossible to see.

"Come on Lyla," Gretchen said. "It's all I ask of you. Crawl to me."

Lyla managed to lift herself up onto her hands and knees and began to crawl on the hardwood floor toward Gretchen. Each bit of movement only caused the ripped flesh on her back to tear more. It took all of her strength not to pass out right there in front of her stepsister.

"Yes, come to me...come to me," Gretchen moaned with a smirk on her face.

As Lyla reached her pantyhose feet, Gretchen held out her right foot and watched her younger stepsister place her lips on the soles.

"You look like a dog to me," Gretchen said. "That's because you are one, no?"

She took away her right foot and gave Lyla her left, "now kiss this one bitch."

As Lyla bent down, a single tear from her face fell onto Gretchen's foot. She grabbed a handful of Lyla's hair and forced her head further down.

"I want you to kiss my feet like you mean it. Once you do, you can leave."

Lyla kissed the bottom of her left foot and looked up at Gretchen. She saw her ocean-blue eyes sparkle in lustful excitement. Gretchen then spat onto her face.

"Now get the hell out of my room you nasty slut. I have to reapply my makeup because of you."

Lyla stood and picked up her torn green dress. She then walked out the door in complete shame back to her bedroom as blood trickled down the back of her thighs.

Once Lyla closed her bedroom door, she fell to the ground and cried. If only her mother never married Onslo Drechsler she wouldn't be subject to the torments of Gretchen. Or if she didn't die, she wouldn't have to face Gretchen alone. She bundled up the green dress and let out a blood-curdling scream. How long must she endure this life?

Lyla heard Fiona knock on Gretchen's door, "Gretchen dear, are you coming down shortly? Mr. Hurst has been waiting."

Gretchen opened the bedroom door. Her make-up was fixed and her long blond hair was in a ponytail. She looked like the image of Teutonic perfection.

"Of coarse Fiona," Gretchen said with detached amusement. "Mustn't dare leave the young man waiting." Fiona led Gretchen down the hall, toward the stairway.

Blind hatred overwhelmed young Lyla as she sat on her bedroom floor. A pair of tailor scissors sat in a sewing basket against the wall to her left. She grabbed them, and while still undressed, swung open the door.

Both Fiona and Gretchen became startled by the sudden reveal of a half-naked Lyla. She ran to Gretchen and plunged the shears deep into the left side of her neck. The force of the blow caused Gretchen to lose her footing. She fell over the oak banister and dropped fifteen feet onto the ceramic floor below. A disgusted Adimar Hurst looked on in horror as a pool of blood formed around the twisted corpse of Gretchen. Fiona screamed and hurried down the stairs.

Lyla gave a blank expression while her stepsister's body twitched and convulsed. She then remembered the Swarovski crystal pendant that shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. Lyla walked into Gretchen's bedroom once more and opened the pearl-lined jewelry box. It now truly belonged to her...forever.


Feedback and critiques welcomed
1. Well-written story.
2. Gretchen was, borrowing her own words, one filthy bitch.Sad
A Cinderella-gone-bad story! Wink Very good writing. You feel Lyla's pain and shame and ultimate mortification and desperation. Again, a story of yours that I simply had to read to the very end. Bravo!
Wow!!That was like,amazing!!I liked it.
UberStein is a phenomonal, 'gripping' writer! Smile

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