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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don't type things myself."  I think it's  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.   Kristen         o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

My Sister, My Slave - 3 (mf, blk-mail, family, inc)
by BLACK KNIGHT

***

III.  ALONE AT LAST 

     Luck fell our way.  I had already made no plans for the
weekend, but it fell to me to oversee the house for the weekend. 
My grandmother fell sick, but not seriously so, but Mom and Dad
decided to look in on her anyway.  They made it clear that they
had no problems leaving me in charge.  After all, they pointed
out, I was in already in charge every weekday night.  I didn't
argue the point, especially since they were taking Joey with
them.  
     They left on Friday afternoon, picking Joey up from school. 
That left Karen and I alone in the house for the entire night,
the first such time we had had together.  For while Karen could
not give me Saturday night, she was more than willing to offer
herself for Friday.  When we left for school that morning, she
slipped a note in my binder.  It read "I am yours tonight."
     With that in mind, I got precious little done at school on
Friday.  My friend Glenda even shook me at the end of History
class to see if I was still on Earth.  All I could think about
was Karen and how I would use her.  About how we wouldn't have to
limit ourselves to my bedroom.  And how we wouldn't have to quit
when we heard Mom and Dad pull into the driveway.  That we could
be together all night.
     I came home right after school and began preparing the
house for the evening's activities, knowing Karen would not be
home until after five.  I went around the entire house and pulled
every window shade, but turned the lights on in every room, too. 
I went outside the house and circled around a couple of times to
make absolutely sure that noone could casually look in on us.  Or
determineably look in, either.  Then I took a bath, and prepared
for the evening.  
     Karen arrived as expected, bearing her school books and some
additional food for the slumber party.  I let her put the food
away before calling her into the living room.  The table was set
with wine and candlelight, and there was cool, easy jazz coming
from the stereo.  The smell of dinner simmering wafted thru the
house.  The lighting in the living room was low, and I was
sitting in the big easy chair, wrapped up in my bath towel. 
Karen didn't see me as she walked in, I guess she assumed that I
was upstairs, because after she had put the food in the kitchen
and dropped her school books in the hall, she looked up the
stairs and called for me.
     "I'm over here, Karen," I announced, in the huskiest voice I
could had.  Karen turned, and seemed transfixed at the sight of
me, as if I had put her in some sort of trance.  It was as if she
was affirming what she had said in the note.  Slowly she walked
into the living room until she was standing right in the center. 
There she stopped, as if she had received some predefined signal. 
I was impressed, and flattered.
     "Take off your clothes, Karen," I said, adding "Slowly."
Karen complied.  I don't know where she got the idea for that
trancelike state, maybe it heightened the experience for her.  It
certainly did that for me.  I was almost transfixed as she seemed
as I watched her step out of her shoes, undo the buttons of her
sweater, unbutton the blouse beneath it.  In one fluid motion,
Karen shucked the blouse and sweater and they fell to floor
behind her.  I found it hard to take it all in because of her
blank stare, my eyes seemed drawn to her big, open, brown eyes. 
She undid her skirt, and that fluttered down to the ground,
falling about her feet as would a Christmas tree skirt.  Though I
had seen her naked practically every night for four months, my
heart leapt as she undid her bra, surprising me, too, for the bra
had no straps and it clasped in front, and therefore she did not
have to make any move which was not graceful to undo it.  It fell
softly to the ground as she shook it from her shoulders.  She had
worn no hose, just small peds, which she managed to remove with
graceful tugs with her toes.  Then she reached down to the bikini
panties, and tugged at the sided slowly, pushing them downwards
without bending, until at last the backs of them had come below
the roundness of her rump.  Somehow, with just a minimum of
movement, she had them falling to her feet.  Then she just stood
there, and I drank in the beautiful body of my fifteen year old
sister.  Her breasts were high and round, and the nipples pointed
skyward still.  It seemed appropriatte to describe them as pert.
     I stood up and approached her.  I was still a few inches
taller than Karen (we would eventually be exactly the same
height,) and I gazed downward into her eyes.  Her stare remained,
but her eyes followed mine.  From the coffee table, I retrieved
the black choker, the symbol of servitude Karen always wore when
we took up our roles.  I placed it around her neck, and circled
her a few times, the same way the first day she had placed
herself at my peculiar brand of mercy.  I could see her nipples
stiffen, which pleased me.  I reached out to caress both her
breasts, looking her square in the eye as I did so.  I did to
them what I knew she loved most, I rolled them gently along my
index finger, while feeling the weight of her tits in my hand.
     This broke her trance.  She closed her eyes and began to
shiver.  Inwardly I smiled, but kept the stern, impassive look on
my face.  I tweaked the nipples gently, just enough to open her
eyes.  Then I patted her rump and walked back to the chair. 
"Please clean up after yourself, Karen," I said as I sat down. 
She gathered up her clothes in a pile and walked to the stairs. 
She looked to me for assurance, and I nodded.  While she was
upstairs, I checked on dinner, and became aware of how
uncomfortable the towel had become.  I scanned the room to make
sure I hadn't forgotten the window.  Presently, Karen returned. 
She stood tentatively at the kitchen door.
     I motioned her to go to the living room.  I noticed that she
had taken the time to touch up her makeup (not that she wore
much anyway,) and that she had put on some perfume that she knew
I liked.  I remember thinking, "God, how I love you," as I
followed her into the room.  I ordered her to undo my towel and
fold it neatly on the coffee table.  (I had plans for it later.) 
On the sofa were the clothes I had chosen for the evening, and I
motioned her to get them and dress me.  There wasn't much there,
I admit, just the same lace black bra and black panties, and the
thin black peignoir.  But there was also some jewelry, not to
mention a few special items of clothing.  I had been looking at
some fetish and bondage mags, and while I didn't feel ready for a
full leather corset yet, I liked the idea of a leather garter
belt and black hose.  
     I acted stern as Karen dressed me, but I sympathized with
her as she tried to figure out how to put the garter belt on.  I
didn't help though.  Once it was on, she held the rolled
stockings to my feet and I stepped into them.  To tell the truth,
neither of us had ever seen the sort of snaps the garter belt
had, and it took a lot of control not to giggle as Karen fought
with them.  Karen got the first one right after a lot of false
starts, and other four followed without incident. Then I stepped
into the panties as she kneeled before me, and as Karen pulled
them into place on my hips, our eyes met. But true to her role,
Karen cast her eyes downward almost immediattely.  Karen finished
with the bra and the peignor, and I thanked her for her
attendance.
     I then moved to the table, where I took my seat at the head
of the table.  "Serve dinner, please," I said, but Karen was
already in the kitchen, preparing my plate.  As she placed the
dish before me, I caught a whiff of the perfume I so loved on
her, and it made me want to sit her down on my lap and make love
to her.  But that was the pleasure of this evening.  We had
plenty of time.  
     Karen went and got a dish for herself, and sat at the
opposite end of the dining room table.  As I ate, I kept looking
at her, thinking how beautiful she was, how innocent her face
looked in the candlelight.  And how luscious her breasts looked. 
Then I realized that she was not eating, just sitting there.  How
quaint, I thought, and how true to her station.  "You may eat,
Karen," I announced, and she smiled and set to her dinner.
     When we had finished the meal (it was pot roast, green
beans, and carrots, in case you are interested,) Karen gathered
up the plates and served us dessert.  I had not prepared dessert,
and Karen was free to choose.  She brought dishes of ice cream. 
I was about to take a bite, when I had a perfectly sinful idea,
a perfect blend of sensuality and lust.  "Karen," I said, "We
won't eat dessert just yet.  Bring our dishes into the living
room, please."  I got up, and Karen followed me, ice cream in
hand.  I asked her to lay the towel out on the floor, and to lay
down on it.  I had her put her hands behind her head, cross her
legs, and ordered her to be still until I finished my dessert. 
Then I picked up my dish of ice cream, and placed a large ball of
it on Karen's navel.  She stiffened, and her nipples hardened,
and   Karen shivered as I ate that first ball, shivered more when
I put a second ball in the hollow between her breasts.  Only by
now the ice cream wasn't so cold, and her shivers were
excitement, not chill.  I let a bit of cream spill onto her
nipple as I lifted the spoon, and felt her spasm a bit, and there
was a small smile on her face.  When it became impossible to eat
with a spoon, I used my fingers to pick up the drippings.  I made
sure Karen got a good look as I sucked the ice cream off my
fingers.  I felt perfectly licentious and wanton as I ate and I
don't think that ice cream ever again tasted quite as good as it
did just then.  
     When I was finished, I announced that it was time for
Karen's dessert.  I had her stand, and I let her wipe herself dry
with the towel.  Then I took the towel from her and spread it on
the chair.  Holding my legs out to her, I ordered her to remove
my panties.  Once this was done, I lifted my legs over the arms
of the chair, and had Karen bring me her dish of ice cream.  It
was quite melted by now, which suited my purposes perfectly.   
     "Turn around," I said, and I held her hands behind her and
bound them together with thongs I had laid out for other
purposes.  I opened my peignor, removed my bra, and picked up the
dish of ice cream.  I had Karen turn around and said "Now you can
eat your dessert."  Whereupon, I began dribbling ice cream on my
tits.  Karen had chosen dark chocolate fudge for me.  Until now,
it had been my favorite for the flavor.  Now I marvelled at how
indecent and strange it looked as it marbled its way around the
nipples and aereole.
     Karen needed no urging.  She bent down and began tounging my
tits, fighting to keep her balance.  While I had read about how
sensuous this experience could be, I was unprepared for the
luscious feel of the ice cream, the contrast between its liquid
chill and the warm breath of my sister against my skin.  When
Karen had lapped up four or five tablespoons, I made her move
downwards, dripping a little cream here and there for her to eat. 
When she was down on her knees before me, I began dribbling ice
cream on my pubic mound, on the soft down, and on the open inner
lips.  I was so excited, especially when Karen began to lap at my
clit, I could swear that I sucked some ice cream into my canal. 
Karen didn't let up, and that same sensation of chill and warmth
excited me to no end.  I was absolutely certain I would black out
when Karen put her lips to my cunt and began to suck the liquid
from my ice cream moisted vaginal canal.  But I held on, held on
until all the ice cream was gone and I could put the bowl down. 
Then I grabbed Karen's head and held her tight to me.  Her nose
was directly upon my clit, and her tounge was as deep inside me
as it could get.  I began to spasm and squirm and writhe, and I
wrapped my legs around Karen's back.  If I hurt her when I came,
I didn't mean to, despite my proclivities in that area.  If she
was hurt, she never said a word.
     Karen was thorough, for once I had come, she proceeded to
lick me as clean as she could.  This almost set me off again, but
I steeled myself to save more orgasms for later in the evening. 
I would need my strength ... and Karen, God bless her, she'd need
hers, too.  
     I pushed her away when I felt I had had enough.  Karen
looked dejected, but I could see in her eyes that this was just
part of the role.  I stood, leaving the bra and peignor in the
chair, and ordered Karen to stand and stand very still.  I was
just slightly at a loss, because my original plans had not
included the effects of having ice cream smeared all over our
bodies.  So I ordered Karen to pick up my clothes and follow me
to the master bedroom.
     That was another nice thing about having the house all to
ourselves.  Instead of the twin bed in my room with the bathroom
down the hall, we could use my parent's kingsize bed with the
adjoining bathroom.  While you might think that the bed was the
more promising attraction, I must tell you that the bathroom had
promising possibilities of its own.  My Dad was a carpenter early
in life, and a plumber's helper as well.  While those were skills
he didn't use in his present job, he did use them around the
house.  And Mom had always dreamed of a Hollywood bathroom.  One
where the tub was large and luxuriant, with shower facilities, a
bidet as well as a commode, and a vanity.  Dad gave her almost
exactly what she wanted.  He converted an adjoining bedroom into
a private bath, and the original bathroom became a closet.  The
bathroom was always off-limits to us kids, but occasionally Mom
would invite us to take a bath as a special treat.  I got Mom's
permission to use it while they were away.  If they had known how
I was going to use it ...
     I sat down at the vanity and after unbinding her hands, I
ordered Karen to draw me a bath.  While she did that, I took my
time looking around for ways to utilize the bathroom creatively. 
I hit upon an idea which would emphasize our roles.  Karen walked
up to the bidet and presented her pussy for relief.  When she was
thru, I did the same, enjoying the pleasant, cleansing rinse the
fixture afforded.  But before I did, I ordered Karen to turn and
face away from me.  When I was done, I stood there, waiting. 
After a few seconds, I said, "Well, Karen?"  
     "Yes?" Karen asked.  She was puzzled, and of course I didn't
blame her.  But of course it made a dandy way of instigating her
"punishment" for the night.  
     "You have forgotten to clean me.  I thought you might have
known to do it, but I guess you'll have to be taught the hard
way."  I ordered her to come over and take some toilet paper off
the roll. "Now wipe me dry, Karen."
     I held my legs slightly apart as she reached between my legs
with the paper.  I was ecstatic, not because it had any great
physical effect, but because I had finally found something which
Karen actually found distasteful.  Karen performed the act
perfuntorily and without pleasure, and I sensed some disgust in
her demeanor.  Well, that would come in handy.
     The bath was now ready.  I had Karen remove my garter beld
and stockings, and I entered the water.  Karen had drawn it
perfectly to my liking, but I announced that it was a bit too
hot.  Karen didn't argue.  
     Now I have to describe this tub.  It's incredible.  The best
analogy I can come up with is a map of the ocean floor.  Just off
the coast, the shoreline slopes away gently.  Then, several miles
out, it falls off in a steep cliff.  Well, imagine an oval ocean
set inside a sloping contintental shelf.  That's what this tub is
like.  Three sides of this marble extravaganza come right up to
the bathroom's tile walls, and the square is about seven feet on
each side.  The tub was a golden marble, the tile walls a rich
golden brown.  All the fittings were brass, even the shower
head.  The oval shape, set along the diagonal to the square,
leaves plenty of room on the sides for toiletries, even room
enough to sit comfortably with feet dangling in the tub.  The
bottom has depressions into which the human bottom fits quite
nicely.  You'ld expect this magnificent tub to have glass doors,
but it doesn't.  Instead, a transparent, two layer curtain runs
the length of the open wall.  It was specially made so as to hook
into either wall, and the inner curtain makes it impossible
(well, very difficult, anyway,) for shower water to fall outside
the tub.
     It was wanton in its opulence, as was the whole bathroom.  I
had no trouble imagining Mom and Dad using it as a lovemaking
palace.  They had every reason to have declared it off limits.
     For now, I found the depressions, and settled in gently,
bracing myself with my legs against the sides of the tub.  I had
Karen sit on the side of the tub, and directed her to soap me up. 
Karen had gotten over the disgust I had subjected her to, and
eagerly washed my back and arms and shoulders.  I leaned my head
back as she moved over my shoulders to my tits, which Karen
seemed to linger over longer than was necessary.  Then she moved
to my feet which I had draped over the sides of the tub.  She was
about to put the soap and washcloth down when I reminded her that
she had missed a few parts of my body.  I brought my hips up off
the bottom of the tub, and presented my pussy to her washcloth. 
Then I lowered myself, and allowed her to begin washing my hair.
     The strangest thing about the evening was how quiet we were
with each other.  Usually, we were in our roles for less than an
hour, more likely thirty minutes.  Then we would be making love
on my bed, and talking after that.  Tonight, Karen had already
been my abject slave for two hours.  I had never ordered her to
refrain from speaking, but Karen seemed to define her submission
with that in mind.  Despite the excitement of our evening alone,
the pleasures of dinner and bath, and the rewards of our mutual
lust, I was finding the silence a little eerie.
     After the bath, I let Karen towel me dry, then I sat at the
vanity while she combed and dried my hair.  As Karen worked on my
hair, I watched her in the mirror.  She was intent at the task,
speaking seldom, not even to ask me to turn my head. But there
was love in the gentle stroking of the combs and brushes thru my
raven hair, love in her eyes, too, when I caught her looking up
from her handiwork to see us both in the mirror.  I felt the urge
to gather her to me, cuddle her, kiss her, feel her kissing me,
not in her role as my slave, but as Karen, my sister and my love.
     But there would be time for tenderness later in the evening. 
My plans for Karen this evening had centered on my parent's
enourmous king-sized bed, with its brass headboard and footpanel. 
But while Karen had bathed me, I had looked at the surroundings
and changed my mind.  Already the image of Karen at my mercy in
the tub was causing me warm, tingling feelings.
     Karen held a hand mirror and asked if my hair was done to my
satisfaction.  Her voice drew me back to the present;  I had been
several minutes into our immediatte future.  I looked into the
mirror, which reflected my image in the large mirror behind it. 
I was thrilled.  Karen had a way with my hair that I,
unfortunately, did not.  It was wavy, and though its basic shape
was familiar to me, it had more body, framed my face better.  It
was lovely.
     But what I said was, "It will do, Karen.  Now get into the
tub."  As usual, Karen did what she was told, and even held her
hands behind her back, expecting me to bind her up again.  Well,
I had that in mind, but in a different way.  I pulled her hands
in front of her, had her kneel, and had her hold her hands out in
front of her, wrists together.  After wrapping a doubly-folded
washcloth around each wrist, I bound her wrists together tightly
with a thick leather thong.  Then I pulled her to her feet, (she
grunted, but did not complain,) and raised her arms to reach the
shower fixture.  I had noticed it while bathing, and thought I
could put Karen in a rather undignified pose by binding her
wrists to it.  But the fixture was just a hooking device into
which the shower head fit, and it was cemented to the tile, not
bolted into the wall.  It was not safe. 
     DAMN! I thought, for I could see no other way to make my
plan work.  Karen was fighting her restraints a bit, for I had
made them tight on the theory that they'd loosen when wet.  I had
to find an anchor soon.
     And there it was, staring me in the face.  On each of the
three walls was a soap dish with a tile handle, set at shoulder
level.  I had wanted Karen to be stretched out upwards, but
immediattely saw the possiblities afforded by these handles.  I
tested them, and they seemd firm.  I prayed that they were firm
enough to stand up to Karen.  I untied her wrists, saw that they
had indeed been tight.  I tied a thong to each of her wrists,
made sure they were tight.  Then I tied one wrist to the handle
on the left wall, and one wrist to the handle on the far wall. 
This allowed her to move side to side some, but only slightly. 
I had worried about her losing her footing, but there was a
bathmat which I could place under her feet.  I didn't know if
this would help, but it certainly improved the look of Karen's
helplessness:  I tied a thick leather belt around her waist, and
tied it to the handle on the left wall.
     Believe this or not, I think Karen had half expected to be
bound up in the shower ever since we had entered Mom's bathroom.
One thing she did not expect was that I tossed on my robe at this
point, left the bathroom,  and left her bound like that for about
five minutes.  It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in,
and I am sure it heightened her sense of frustration, if not her
fear.  I gathered up some things I had planned to use in the
bedroom.  
     I entered the bathroom, put my booty down on the vanity.  I
picked up the Polaroid and took three or four pictures of Karen
in her humiliating position.  I had to fight off the urge to say
"Smile!"  It would have been terribly out of character.  Karen
groaned under her breath, but otherwise didn't object.  Later,
she told me that she, (just as I had been,) had been afraid to
move too much, lest she pull one of the soap dishes out of the
wall.  I was thankful for her restraint.
     After putting on a shower cap, (I was not about to undo the
lovely work Karen had done,) I took down the shower head and
turned on the water.  I made it comfortably warm, and began to
wet Karen down.  One of the nice things about the removable
shower head was that I could get to all parts of Karen's body, in
very unusual ways.  Like holding the head fountain like against
her chest.  Karen liked that, liked it even more when I played
the water between her legs.  
     Of course, with Karen bound up, I couldn't exactly order her
to wash herself.  That was fine with me.  I couldn't wait to get
my hands on her.  First I washed and rinsed her hair thoroughly,
taking care not to get soap in her eyes.  I had a bit of trouble
getting around her, for with her arms spread and her body bent
forward, Karen took up most of the tub.  But never mind, I simply
brushed cheerily up against her body.  Using the same scented
soap Karen had used to wash me, I lathered up a washcloth and set
to the task.  This, of course, took a very long time, you
understand, as I peppered my talk with comments on how servants
just didn't know how to bathe themselves properly.  I lathered
her arms, her legs, her armpits, her neck, her face.  I squeezed
in front of her to do her face, and despite her discomfiture,
Karen was smiling as I ran the washcloth over her nose, brow and
cheeks.  One of the very nicest things for me about Karen bound
this way was that her normally high, firm breasts were forced to
hang down from her chest.  They were still firm and round, and
the nipples refused to point fully to the floor, even with
gravity pulling at them.  But they swayed with a gentle, gelatin-
like rhythm as I washed her arms and neck and face.  I took a
moment to hold both of them in my hands, to feel the weight of
them against my palms, to feel the hardness of Karen's nipples as
I fingered them.  At one point, Karen's eyes met mine, and we
kissed breifly, but I broke it off, remaining in character.
     Then I moved to her side, ducking out from under her arm,
and lathered up her back, her belly, her rear.  I kneeled
underneath her to the front and back of her legs, and felt as I
did the weight of her tits against the back of my head.  I soaped
up her pussy very lightly, then came out from under her.  I began
playing the water over her again, rinsing her off thouroughly. 
If I let it play longer over her pussy than I had to, Karen
didn't seem to mind.  I turned the water off and stood back,
drawing the shower curtain open.  I took a couple of pictures of
Karen, still bound, soaking wet.  I ordered her to lift her head
up high, and she strained against her bonds to do so.  The
picture captured perfectly her humiliation and helplessness.
     I took off my shower cap and let my hair hang freely.  The
fan in the ceiling was creating a nice breeze, pulling cool air
in from the bedroom as it sucked the humidity out of the room.  I
picked up the handcream, and began smoothing it over Karen's
body.  I smoothed it over her smooth, bent back, up and down her
straining arms, down her legs, across her belly.  I stood behind
her, pushing my naked body up hard against hers, leaning over her
back with my arms around her to rub the cream into her hanging
tits.  Again, I reveled in the feel of the weight of her breasts. 
I began rubbing her nipples, soft and sensuously until they were
rock hard.  Karen began to moan, to strain against the leather
thongs, and her hips began to grind against mine.  I began to
pull softly on her nipples, then harder and harder.  Karen seemed
to feed on the pain, and I fed on Karen's acceptance of her lot. 
I left one hand on her breast, began to knead it harder and
harder, while with my other hand I began wending my way to
Karen's delicious pussy.  I rubbed my hand thru her pubic hair,
then pulled softly at it, and Karen gasped as I began to
coordinate my caresses of two disparate parts of her anatomy.  I
would tweak on her nipple, pulling it out from her chest, until I
was sure she was feeling the pain.  Then I would let go, and
Karen would gasp in pain and releif.  When she was just catching
her breath, I pulled tightly and rapidly on her pubic hair as it
wound around my fingers.  Karen would gasp again, and before she
caught her breath, my other hand was back on her breast, kneading
rather than caressing, digging my fingers hard into her soft
flesh.  Then I would release her breast and flick my finger hard
against her clit.  This made Karen jump, would break the rhythm
of her bump and grinds.  Then I would start caressing her breast
again, until her passion rose anew.  And again I would stunt it
with the nipple tweak, the pubic pull, the breast knead, and the
clit flick.  I repeated this four times, and could feel Karen
trembling, getting weak in the knees.  Her breath was ragged and
she was begging for release.  "Please, please," she cried, but I
was not ready to do this for her yet.
     I began soft stroking her breast, while I disentagled my
other hand from her pubes.  I placed my foot between her legs and
forced them open.  With my other hand, I began to explore her
pussy, first with soft, gentle gestures upon Karen's clit, slowly
working my way down her downy labia until I reached her vaginal
passage.  It was, as I expected, hot and moist, in clear contrast
to the coolness of the air and the water.  Karen gasped as I slid
my finger in, deep into the moist, jelly-like recesses of her
private tunnel.  Harder now I played with her nipples,
occasionally moving from tit to tit, until both her nipples were
hard again.  Karen was doing the bump and grind again, more
animated now, as I plunged my finger deep inside of her and then,
slowly, drew it out, pressing hard on the walls of her cunt as I
left her.  In and out I went until Karen's rhythm matched the
movement of my fingers.  I drew my hand away from her breasts,
and began to move along her flank slowly and sensuously.  I
pressed my palm against her clit to heighten her pleasure, still
plunging in and out of her.  My other hand was caressing her
dear, dear derriere, feeling the softness of the newly washed and
freshly lotioned skin.  Karen was moaning now, softly, her head
moving side to side, her eyes closed.
     I paused slightly in my manipulations of Karen's dear sweet
vagina.  And then, my middle finger still deep within her cunt, I
braced that arm against her belly, drew back my other arm a bit,
and brought it down in a wide-handed slap against Karen's rump. 
Karen started at that, as I expected, she let out a scream, and
her entire body stiffened.  Thanks be to the powers that be, for
the soap dish handles held against her straining.  I thought I
saw a tear forming in her eye as she looked back over her
shoulder, anger and hurt in her eyes.  But her body betrayed her,
or it fed on the anger, because her hips quickly began their bump
and grind again, forcing my finger to do continue its probing.  I
moved with her again, and drew my arm back again, bringing it
down again, widehanded as before, but softer, more gently, a hard
love tap.  Then a sharp slap again, and she pulled at her bound
wrists, tossing her damp hair back and forth as she tried to
reconcile herself to both pain and pleasure. 
     I felt the heat rising in my veins as I spanked Karen's
rump, could feel the heat rising in her as well.  The shock of
that first slap had worn off, Karen was now taking each blow as
an added incentive to her ecstasy.  I decided that the time had
come, and I removed my fingers from her cunt and reached for my
final surprise.  
     I continued to stroke Karen's rump, caressing it for a long
while between the hard love taps.  I made sure to circle her
little rosebud asshole, made sure to tease her vaginal opening.
Karen was still breathing heavily when she heard the whir of my
device, and her eyes went wide with delight as I reached between
her legs from behind to press the vibrator against the entire
length of her pink cleft, the tip of the device resting squarely
on her throbbing clit.  I drew it back and forth against her
cunt, watched her close her eyes, undulate her head, bite her lip
gently.  She was enjoying this, and so was I.  
     I drew it back and forth, side to side, until her hips were
moving slowly and sensuously side to side.  I felt my own breath
quicken, and I felt my nipples hardening.  I stroked her rump, an
occasional slap on one round melon or the other, and soon Karen
was crying "Please, Please, Please, Sis, let me come!"
     I drew the vibrator back to her anus, played with it a bit,
meanwhile tweaking her tits.  Then I moved the vibrator down to
her canal, which was hot and moist.  I parted her cunt lips with
one hand, held them wide open.  I felt some trepidation as I
proceeded, for now I intended to enter my sister's privates with
something much more invasive and impersonal than my finger. I
knew Karen felt it too, and I took care to enter her gently.  It
was a long vibrator, thick as the average cock, and I had covered
it with a condom slathered with vaseline.  I moved it in a very
small amount, gauging my progress by my sister's reactions.  
     Karen was crying now, not from pain, but from frustration
and longing.  She moaned and bit her lip as I moved the vibrator
into her, until an inch and a half of it had dissapperared inside
of her.  Suddenly, Karen gasped, and moving her hips hard, drove
them back hard around the vibrator.  Thank god it was over a foot
long, for Karen's vaginal contraction pulled it right out of my
hand.  I grabbed for it, began moving it in and out of her,
punctuating my movements with slaps to her butt in time with her
own savage thrusts back and forth.  Karen was like an animal,
growling, snarling, and her tits shook crazily in wide, wanton
circles.  In four months of bondage, spanking, and lovemaking, I
had never seen Karen like this.  If I hadn't been so excited, I
might have had time to be frightened.  But I kept moving the
vibrator, watching Karen's labia grip it as I drew it out,
watching it being pulled from my grasp as she drew it in with her
own inner resources.  And thru it all I continued the hard love
taps on her rump, until Karen let out a bloodcurdling scream,
spasming and writhing as she did so.  I saw her hands clench into
fists, felt her body stiffen, shudder.  I figured she had come.
     I was wrong.  Karen pushed her hips back hard against me, as
if to say she expected more.  I didn't even think about what I
did next.  I moved behind her, pressing against the vibrator with
my body, my legs tight and together.  The flat end of the
vibrator was just above my own clit, and I used that to excite me
(not that I needed much more help at that point,) and to keep the
vibrator anchored in Karen's cunt.  I reached around her to hold
her tight to me, cupped her tits in my hands, rolling the nipples
around in exactly the way I knew she adored.  Karen continued
thrusting back and forth, drawing the vibrator in and out as much
as she could, though it wasn't much with me hard against her. And
I held on tight, kept moving in rythem with her.  I could feel my
own pent-up orgasm welling up from deep inside me.
     Then Karen was groaning and her thrusts became shudders. 
Against my arms about her I could feel her stomach muscles
tighten, even feel the vibrations race across her belly.  And
against my cunt I could feel the vibrator as it shook along with
Karen, and it felt damned, fucking wonderful.  Suddenly I was
shuddering, too, uncontrollably, as the red fire enveloped me and
all my body.  Karen was crying out my name, crying out "YES, YES,
FUCK ME!" as we both rode out the orgasm, and I tried to support
her as much as hold on, for I knew we would both be weak in the
knees.  I lost sight of Karen, the bathroom, and everything else
when the blackness hit me, and I held on to Karen's hips for dear
life.
     If felt like many minutes, but it was only a few seconds
before I came to, and before the weakness hit me, I moved to
untie my sister from the tub handles.  I gently removed the
vibrator as I pulled away, and Karen gasped appreciatively as it
left her love canal.  I untied one hand, and Karen pulled me to
her with her newly freed arm.  Our lips met in a fiery kiss,
Karen's tounge deep into my mouth, practically sucking breath
from me.  I returned the kiss with equal fervor, and somehow
managed to untie her other wrist as I did so.  I didn't even
break the kiss as I maneuvered her back to the wall so that I
could untie her waist.
     And at that point, Karen attacked me.  Not with violence,
but with her body, her passion, her love.  And I let her.  I was
more than willing to have her as my equal for a while.  I let her
move me out of the tub, I let her push me gently into the
bedroom, where our parents' turned-down bed awaited us.  I saw
her pick up the vibrator out of the corner of my eye, and we fell
together, still embracing, onto the bed.  
     We indulged in kissing each other for a very long time, the
only other contact being our arms behind each others backs. 
Karen's long fingers stroked thru my hair, and I lost myself in
the feel of her tounge and lips.  Soon she was moving down my
chest to kiss and suck on my pointy tits, with her arms still
around my neck and her hands still stroking my face.  I remember
kissing her fingers one by one, sucking them as if they were
little cocks or large clits.  Karen's body was warm against mine,
and the feel of the meeting of our skin was indescribable.  I
felt her tits hanging hard against my belly, felt her hips
forcing my thighs wide open.  I felt as if I was melting into
her, as if we'd become one single body, forever embracing.
     Then her arms were leaving my neck, and her lips were moving
from my nipples to the hollow between my breasts, and her tounge
weaved a snakelike pattern down my chest and belly.  Now she was
forcing my legs open with her entire body, and I was in heaven
anticipating where Karen would go from here.  Then her hands were
cupping my breasts, rolling my nipples, teasing them into
hardness.  And her mouth was down around my pubes, her shoulders
forcing my legs as wide as they would go.  
     I was lost in her tounging of my cunt when I felt the cool
plastic of the vibrator causing ripples of sensation along the
skin of my tits.  Slowly Karen pushed the tip against my nipples,
and I put my hands behind my head so as not to impede her.  I
drew my knees up to anchor myself, and Karen wrapped her arms
about my legs, pulling her mouth closer still to my dripping
labia.  Then her arm was encircling my leg and the vibrator had
moved between my legs.  Karen was teasing my clit with it even as
her tounge darted into my cunt, parting my inner lips, spreading
her nectar and mine along my insides.  The familiar warm feeling
spread through me, and suddenly my hands were no longer on my
head but on Karen's, holding her hard to her task of pleasuring
me.  Then I was shuddering and crying out, "Yes, Karen, yes, go,
do it, fuck me, suck me!"  I was like a madwoman, and when Karen
moved to move the vibrator into me, I was in heaven or hell, take
your pick.  Her tounge lapped at my clit while she moved the
vibrator in and out, and there was pleasure, too, in simply
knowing that the condom-covered instrument had only minutes
before been deep inside the body of this young woman I loved so
completely.  It did not take long before I was writhing in
ecstacy.

     When it was over, I pulled her to me, and we cuddled on the
bed, whispering words of love that only women can speak.  We
entwined our arms, our legs, our hands, even our toes.  The skin
of Karen's thigh felt cool against the blood-engorged skin of my
cunt, and I delighted in the feel of her soft down against my
leg.  She was so much prettier than I was, yet I was not jealous,
for that prettiness was mine to have and to hold.  And I, for
her, was the catalyst to arouse her passions and her fantasies,
the woman who was always there for her.  
     I laughed suddenly.  
     "What's so funny?" asked Karen, while she nuzzled my neck.  
     "You're still wet.  And so are those thongs you're still
wearing."  I ran my hand thru her damp mop of hair.  "Let's get
this dry!"  And I pulled her into the bathroom by her waist
thong.  We laughed as we caught an image of ourselves in Mom's
full-length mirror, and we took two Polaroids of ourselves
standing side by side in Mom's tub as souveniers.  
     
     While drying her hair,  Karen asked me, "What time is it,
Sis?"  Karen wouldn't even allow me to comb her hair.  Parodying
her own submissive role, she had said, with a mock English
accent, "Why, no, ma'am, I couldn't let you do that for me!"  I
was surprised to find that it was only just nine o'clock.  I
asked Karen to guess the time.
     "Ten or eleven?"
     "Nine!"
     "Yikes! That early?  What'll we do?"
     I had no doubt that we would think of something.

     The rest of our evening alone was a monument to wanton
decadance.  We retired to the den, lit a few candles, and sat
togther watching romantic movies on our VCR.  We ate chocolates
and popcorn and more ice cream.  I wore only my black peignor,
lightly tied.  I had offered Karen a lacy blue nightie from my
wardrobe, but she refused, saying, "Oh, no, ma'am, I couldn't
wear your gowns, oh no."  She was serious this time, not mocking,
and I realized she was asking us to return to our roles.  So I
took up my dominant tone and informed Karen that if she didn't
think herself good enough to wear my nightgown, she could remain
naked all night.  Though her eyes were downcast, I caught the
faint glimpse of a smile.
     So I ordered her to dress me again in my peignor, which was
all I felt like wearing.  The robe covered me from neck to toe,
but it was absolutely sheer and hid nothing.  If anything, it
accentuated my nakedness.  I had Karen afix the frog catch at its
neck, and I let it remain that way so that as I walked, it
separated and trailed behind me.  
     Karen I adorned in a makeshift harness of leather thongs. 
One I tied about her waist in such a way that the loose end
could be brought up thru the her crotch, under the waist loop in
front, and then up to her neck where I made a large loop anchored
with a non-slip lock.  I didn't want her to choke if I choose to
lead her around by the harness. 
     I got another, thinner thong, and looped it thru the slip
knot behind her back, then tied both her wrists to the ends. 
This left her able to move about freely, but I could imobilize
her if I so chose.  I brought her down to the kitchen, had her
hold her arms out to her sides with dishes of food in each, and
took another Polaroid for posterier ... I mean, posterity.  
     We settled into the big sofa in the den, and Karen served me
all night.  At one point, I watched Karen coming from the living
room and realized that the harness had some significance to our
relationship beyond bondage.  For the cross it made at her waist,
and the neck loop which ended in a V at the hollow between her
breasts formed a variation of that ancient Egyptian fertility
symbol, the Ankh.
     It was nine thirty when Mom called to find out how we were
doing.  While I assurred her that we were doing quite fine, (just
how fine, I was not about to say,) Karen began kissing and
sucking at my tits.  It took every bit of willpower to resist
doing or saying anything about it.  
     But I got back at her ... Mom asked to talk to Karen, and
while she gave Karen a dollop of advice about her slumber party,
I reached down and slipped my finger underneath the leather thong
and began fingering Karen's clit.  Karen held on to her composure
on the phone, but her body shook so much, I could feel the couch
vibrating. 

     It was inevitable that we would make love again.  Sitting
beside each other, we found it impossible to keep our hands from
roaming over each others' body.  At one point, I was running my
hand from one tit to another when my fingers caught on the cord
which ran to her crotch.  Karen gasped in delight, and I realized
that there was a delightful fringe benefit to my harness.  I
reached behind her, and pulled gently at the cord where it met
the waistband.  Karen gasped again.  I pulled the wrist thongs
until I had both her hands behind her, and formed a tight grip on
all three strands.  Pulling gently in erratic rhythms caused the
thong to rub along Karen's clit, which at that point was all she
needed to be rocketed to orgasm.  When I finally let loose my
grip, Karen was breathing heavily after a series of explosive
orgasms.  The room was heavy with her odor and the leather thong
was damp between her legs.  On her face was a smile which could
only mean one thing ... she was totally satisfied.
     Well, I wasn't satisfied.  After watching Karen go thru one
orgasm after another, crying and moaning and groaning, had left
me one horny mistress.  I wrapped the loose wrist cords around
her wrists so that they were partially immobilized, and pulled
Karen to her feet by the harness.  I ordered her into the living
room, where I made her lie down on her stomach and then tied her
ankles together.  Then I lit a candle, sat down on the floor
fifteen feet away across the room, and spread my legs wide.  I
felt entirely wanton and perverse as I whispered into the
dimness, "Come, Karen, eat me!" 
     Karen was a wonder.  She didn't seem to care what sort of
use I put her to, so long as there was an orgasm or a spanking
involved.  Which one of us got to come didn't seem to matter
either.  She pulled herself snakelike across the rug until her
head was between my thighs, and reached out with her tounge to
massage my pussy.  I rested my legs on her back, and with one of
my feet, I caught hold of the cord around her waist.  When I
tugged on it, I could hear her gasp and feel her shudder.  I
reached down with one hand, held my labia open so that Karen
could more easily kiss and suck the pink inner lips, and Karen
obliged me once again by darting her tounge against my clit and
then dropping down to dart deep into my cunt.  I played with my
tits breifly, but found myself drawn to watch Karen as she
writhed around on the ground, her legs kicking in unison, her
tits mashed against the floor, her hands straining to get out of
the mass of thongs I had wrapped them in.  And soon I couldn't
even watch, for the preassure built up inside me to the breaking
point.  I came, and I came, and I came, until I felt as if I
would pass out.  
     But I didn't, I simply cried out into the candle-lit room
and grabbed Karen's shoulders, noticing that she was coming too. 
For I realized that she was not trying to get her hands out of
the harness, she was actually pulling at the harness as I had
done, to bring herself to orgasm wiht me.
     And that we did.  Together, in one massive spasm, both of us
came, both of us cried out, both of us moaned, both of us felt
the familiar orgiastic pattern of our muscles as they contracted
and expanded until both of us collapsed in delerious bliss.  As
if to say goodbye, Karen cupped my clit with her lips and kissed
it lightly before falling away from me.
     I pulled her to me, and we lay there for a long, long time. 
I cradled her head in my lap, stroking her face which was moist
with my own love juice.  Karen licked my fingers as they passed
over her mouth.  We dozed off that way, Karen still bound, and me
with my peignor draped over us both.

     It was nearly two in the morning when I awoke suddenly,
aware of the darkness.  Funny how something like a candle burning
out can wake you.  I jostled Karen.  She somehow got to her feet,
and tried to follow me to Mom's bedroom. This was not easy, for
her ankles were still tied.  After a few feet, I lifted her into
my arms, and carried her to the now-rumpled bed.  Karen never
really woke up.  I untied her ankles, undid her wrists.  I left
the harness on, though.  It was such a nice piece of work.  
