Stepsister

H. Jekyll

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

MF, cons, bdsm, oral (videotape); mg reluct, mast

Copyright 2002 by H. Jekyll. Permission is freely granted 
to post on any site that does not charge for entrance, as 
long as proper attribution is given. The story should not 
be read by anyone under the legal age to read sexually 
explicit stories, or by anyone in a location where it is 
illegal to read such stories. 

Please send comments, inquiries, requests, and criticisms 
to: h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com. I do enjoy correspondence. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Is it because he's seventeen and afflicted with raging 
erections? How often does he masturbate? He's counted up to 
seven in a day, and he does it at least once every single 
day. Sex is everything, the only thing he wants to think 
about, the driving drive. He fantasizes about every woman 
he sees, every starlet, every girl in school, his teachers. 

His real life experiences with another person aren't 
numerous but his fantasies, oh my God, are astounding, fed 
with internet porn and produced by a mind that is sharper 
than anyone else's he knows and highly motivated. They 
include twisted things that he'd like to do, that he jacks-
off to over and over. Is that the reason?

Perhaps he wasn't socialized as well as other boys, so 
doesn't repress the viler desires. Does being smarter help? 
He can think of so many more things to do. Maybe he bears 
an evil that was just born with him, that has always 
existed. If so he hides it well. Everyone thinks he is such 
a nice lad. They wouldn't believe that he could imagine 
raping his stepmother and making her like it, or kidnapping 
the head cheerleader and making her suck his dick all night 
long. 

Slow down your hand. Move it slowly. Stop when you get too 
close. Imagine the sound of the belt. Imagine her crying. 
Imagine her agreeing to do everything. Slowly. Slow down. 
Oh hell I'm coming again! 

Ah, that was good. Let's try for three in a row.

He knows he's dangerous, that there's a potential in him. 
He's probably much more dangerous than most boys.

Maybe, though, just maybe he simply has more opportunity. 
Maybe it's because he has an eleven year old stepsister who 
adores him, who holds his hand and loves to snuggle against 
him, who gets jealous of his dates, a prepubescent child 
just barely developing breasts, who is oh-so-shy and too 
inexperienced to know the limits of trust.

And maybe it's because he has parents who are idiots, 
planning a six-week anniversary cruise, leaving him in 
charge of the house and his sister for a very long time. 
Ever since he found out he has been setting the stage for 
the weeks he'll have her alone.

* * * * *

His preparations began early, soon after his stepmother 
took him aside to say they were going to celebrate their 
fifth anniversary in the South Pacific, Hawaii, the 
Galapagos, and that he would have a large responsibility 
for one so young. That night he knew what he would do.

First there was the tape. It was important to prepare her 
for the experience, to make her accept it. Yeah, yeah, 
prepare her.

"Come on Sissy, while they're out. I'm going to show you 
something secret that I found. You must never tell anyone 
and you have to promise to watch the whole thing. Promise, 
or I can't show you."

He had found the tape in their closet, high up and to the 
back, inside a shoe box. There were five tapes in all, but 
this was by far his favorite. Did they really think they 
could hide them from him? Before he ever played any he knew 
they would be good, because of the secrecy, and he was 
right. It gave him a new, deep appreciation of his father 
and vast fantasies about his stepmother.

"Sit quietly. Remember, you have to stay through the whole 
thing. Do you promise?" 

The room was dark, the only light coming from the TV and a 
little more from the hall bathroom. They sat close to each 
other as he touched the remote. She wanted as much contact 
as possible. Little currents of lightness moved in her 
chest because it would be something forbidden that she 
would share with him. She didn't know the half of it.

As the tape started she curled up against him, but she soon 
looked away and tried to end the body contact. He held her.

"No. You promised."

* * * * *

The first scene is jumpy, the work of someone who is just 
learning the equipment. Her mother is sitting on the edge 
of their bed, naked. She is a lovely woman with a slight 
bulge in her belly that doesn't detract at all from what 
happens, with breasts that droop a little as womanly 
breasts should. 

His father steps into the scene from the direction of the 
camera. One can see him only from knees to chest. He is 
naked, with a curved erection that soars from a mat of 
unkempt, dark hair. His ass partially blocks the scene as 
her mother leans down to grasp his prick and take it to her 
mouth.

There is more. As the tape starts she is looking at the 
camera, looking apprehensively. How did he get her to 
agree? Did he show her others' tapes, maybe the Pamela 
Anderson tape? She looks to the camera, then up to his 
face, away from his penis. Finally down to it. One last 
look at the camera, then she looks directly at the penis. 
She takes it in her hand, holding it just below the head, 
like a chicken held by the neck, opens her mouth and slides 
her lips over it.

At this point the watching daughter made a low sound like 
"ohh," like a quiet moan that lasted for two or three 
seconds, and she tried to move for the first time.

The mother's face has the classic blow job look, her jaw 
open wide to let her fit over the meat, her eyes aimed down 
onto her husband's shaft so hard they almost cross. Then 
her eyes close almost completely, her lips protrude 
slightly outward and form an 'O' around the back of the 
head, and her cheeks go concave. While she sucks on it she 
jacks the penis into her mouth, not too fast and not too 
deeply.

* * * * *

The daughter said: "We shouldn't be doing this."

"You promised. You have to trust me. This is what men and 
women do to each other, and they love it. That's why they 
filmed it. Someday they would show it to you themselves, so 
you could learn what to do."

He knew he was a lying bastard and he loved it.

* * * * *

On the tape his father has put his hands on her mother's 
head and has started making grunting noises. He says "I'm 
close. Get ready." Then he pulls out of her mouth and 
points his dick at her. A ropy spray of semen shoots 
between them and hits her just below the notch at the top 
of her chest, just above her breasts. Two, three good 
squirts before the force is gone and it dribbles out. 

"Now rub it in," he tells her, "rub the tit lotion in 
good." 

She takes both hands and smears the mess onto her breasts, 
rubbing in circular motions until the semen is invisible to 
the camera. The scene ends, leaving a dark screen.

* * * * *

"Oh they couldn't like that! Let me go!" 

She meant her mother couldn't like it.

He held her tightly, both arms around her, holding her 
still.

"Sis, you're going to stay until I say you can go. You 
think she doesn't like it? Well watch the next part."

* * * * *

In the next scene the camera is on as the two get to the 
bed, again already naked. This time the mother doesn't look 
to the camera. The two kneel facing each other and give 
luscious kisses. The camera focuses on their faces, on 
their mouths. When the boy first saw the scene he thought 
someone else was with them in the room, but then he saw the 
control device in his father's hand, and saw his father 
glance to the side every so often, to what he could finally 
tell was a monitor.

"Damn," he thought, "he's controlling the camera during 
sex."

The couple on the screen nibble on each others' nipples. 
She bends to take his penis into her mouth again, but then 
he pushes her back and pulls her legs open. His head goes 
between them. He says:

"You sweet bitch. I'm going to film you coming and make you 
watch yourself doing it."

"Oh you bastard." She gasps as he does something to her 
vagina. "God I love you. Not so hard. Oh please. God, 
you're evil. Yes, like that. Yes!"

True to his word, the camera focuses on her face, from the 
side catching her half-closed eyes - mere slit shapes on 
her face - and her slightly open mouth. She keeps making 
little gasping grunts. The camera, though, pans down from 
her face to her body, so that one can see it jerking and 
undulating. Her hands are fidgeting, moving around and 
grabbing sheets. Finally the camera gets down to her cunt, 
to focus on his mouth buried in her. She is moving her cunt 
against his face. In the middle of this he glances at the 
monitor. 

The camera then pans back up toward her face, moving with 
dreadful slowness as her breathing gets faster and her 
grunts take on a higher pitch. It gets to her face before 
she comes, showing a vein standing out on her now red and 
sweaty forehead. Her face is all scrunched up but her mouth 
is open wide. Then her head goes back and she cries out in 
a higher pitch, in the same rhythm as her grunts, saying,

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!"

When he first saw this the boy had thought: why haven't I 
ever heard them doing it? He paused the tape.

* * * * *

During the second part the girl stopped struggling and 
stared at the screen. Once it ended her stepbrother 
carefully loosened his hold on her and placed her beside 
him. She didn't move; neither would she look at him.

"Let's talk. Those are some of the things adults do when 
they're having sex. Did you understand it?"

She nodded, but she didn't know what to think. She was 
embarrassed to have seen that with him, but she was so 
infatuated that she didn't want to leave. She'd stay for 
him. She had had a young girl's fantasies about him, had 
imagined him kissing her but hadn't ever really imagined a 
sex scene. She didn't know exactly what such a scene would 
be like, exactly what they would do, except that they would 
be naked and he would put his penis in her. Those things on 
the film were so disgusting and so intense that she didn't 
know what to make of them. Could grown ups really do that? 
But she saw it!

"What parts about it didn't you understand?"

In a minute she asked, her voice weak and tremulous:

"When Mommy said 'Oh God, Oh God' - was she having an 
orgasm?"

"Yes. That's what most women do when they come. Do you know 
what "come" means?"

She nodded. She still wouldn't look at him. "We learned 
about orgasms in school. About different words. But it 
looked like she was crying. Why was she doing that?"

"Because when men do things to women it feels so good that 
it's more than the women can stand. Sometimes they even 
scream because it feels so good. They can't help 
themselves."

"Why didn't he scream too?"

What answer to give, to plant the seed?

"Men enjoy being in control. It's natural. And women like 
men to be in control. You saw what he made her do, and how 
much she liked it."

She was silent. She wondered how it would be when she 
finally had sex, if it would be like on the screen and if 
she would cry out. She would, and soon.

"What else didn't you understand?"

"Well, I thought, I thought . . ." She stopped to figure 
out how to word it. "I thought that when a man, uh, uh, 
came, he did it in the woman's vagina, to make a baby. Why 
did he do it on her, uh, uh, uh chest?" 

It was hard for her to talk with him about that. She 
couldn't remember ever seeing a penis before, certainly not 
an erect one. Now she couldn't shake the image of that 
ugly, dark, reddish thing in her mother's mouth, or of it 
spraying her breasts. How could she put it in her mouth?

"He could have come in her vagina, but men like to come 
lots of places, and when he made her rub his sperm on her 
boobs he liked it more."

"Oh."

"Now we're going to watch the rest of it. There isn't that 
much more. You're not going to try to get away again, are 
you?"

She looked down and said "no" in a tiny voice. They sat 
back and he restarted the tape. He made her sit right up 
against him. This one would be intense, and he didn't want 
her to have a chance.

* * * * *

Her mother is tied spread-eagled to the bed as the scene 
begins. It is a large, mahogany, sleigh bed with a lovely 
wrought-iron filigree pattern that is visible at the 
headboard. His father must be holding the camera. It pans 
over her, showing her entire body, then focusing on her 
torso or face or the ropes on her wrists. She is again 
naked.

She is speaking. At first it is hard to hear her because of 
some bumping noises but then her voice comes through.

"Please let me go, sweetheart. I promise I won't do it 
again. I know I was wrong."

She sounds unhappy. 

"It isn't that easy." 

He places the camera on something so that it is filming 
downward at her. Then he continues:

"I can't let you violate your discipline like that, and I 
won't be a pussy and just let you off."

His hand appears, and caresses her stomach. Then it moves 
down to her spread vagina and caresses her there for some 
time while they talk. She is pleading and bargaining, while 
he is being firm about whatever the topic is.

"Here, have another glass of water."

"No. Please don't. I really have to go. I don't know how 
long I can hold it."

"I said drink! And I don't want you spilling any, unless 
you want it to go hard!"

He holds a full glass to her mouth and she drinks it slowly 
down, stopping twice to breathe. Then he returns to 
caressing her sex.

"Please honey, I really have to go now."

"You're all wet here. You've gotten hot, haven't you?"

"No. I don't know. Please let me go. You can tie me up 
again when I'm finished. I'll do everything you want, 
darling. I'll be obedient. You'll be proud of me. But I 
have to pee right now. I really do. I'll wet the bed."

"You're so hot, holding that in for me. I bet you'd like me 
to fuck you right now, wouldn't you?" 

He is pushing the fingers of one hand up into her vagina 
and pulling softly on her vaginal lips with the other hand.

"Oh please! Don't do this to me. Please!"

"If you wet the bed I'll have to be severe with you. Can't 
even hold a little water. Holding it in is making you more 
excited, isn't it? Knowing you might get punished if you 
can't show discipline is thrilling you."

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can hold it. I'm not 
pretending! Please!"

He leans on her lower belly with both hands and she cries 
hoarsely. For the first time he is entirely visible, and he 
is naked a well. His erection is much larger than before.

"Oh, you have plenty of room in you still. Why don't you 
beg me to fuck you? The way you are now, you'll pop like a 
firecracker. Do it. Beg. Afterwards, we'll see about your 
bladder fixation."

"Please fuck me, Honey. Oh please. But hurry. Hurry! Oh 
God!"

"Admit that you're my little slut, my little fuck toy."

"I am. Oh please Honey, fuck your little slut quickly."

He enters her, fucking in and out, not hurrying at all. He 
has the camera pan to her face and it is clear she is 
caught between desire and something else. Her swollen eyes 
are half closed, then snap open, then close again. Her 
moans are harsh and she thrashes her head back and forth. 

After a few moments it is clearly a tie between the desire 
and the something else. She says "Please Honey, please no," 
but does so in the ragged pattern of someone close to 
eruption. His grunts, much lower, can be heard on the tape, 
but only just barely. They remain as a kind of 
counterpoint, while her cries rise in volume and pitch, but 
with those same words repeated over and over,

"Oh please darling, no, please, no please no ...!"

Then she is over the top, crying away, and he is obviously 
coming, too, and there is another sound, faint but clearly 
there on the tape: a hiss, the sound of a thin stream of 
liquid spraying onto something and splashing. She is 
wetting the bed. Her crying out becomes mere crying right 
in the middle. She sobs, spread across the bed with him 
lying atop her. She tries to say something but is almost 
incoherent, babbling:

"I'm sorry, Honey, I'm sorry. I couldn't stop it. Oh please 
I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me. I didn't mean to do it. I 
tried to hold it but I couldn't. I didn't mean to."

* * * * *

The girl on the couch said "Oh, Mommy," and put her face in 
her hands. The boy told her she had to watch, and he pulled 
her hands away. He said,

"If you don't do what you're told I'll punish you. In a 
minute you'll see what a man can do to a women who isn't 
obedient!"

* * * * *

Back on the screen, his father doesn't appear at all upset 
by this turn with his wife.

"Well. Pissed all over me. That's the wettest I ever got 
you, no? And you're so easy, too. Now, let's take a look at 
things."

He rises and walks toward the camera, penis half dangling 
and a couple lines of fluid running down his thighs. The 
room rocks around while he picks up the camera, and then it 
is pointing between her thighs, showing the bedding, darkly 
wet in a rough fan shape out from her slit. There are 
individual drops of fluid on her and some rivulets.

He pans up her body to her face and neck, which are very, 
very red, especially so because the video camera over-
saturates the color. Her face is wet as well and she is 
still crying, though more quietly. When the camera comes to 
her face she turns away, trying to hide it.

"No! No, please not that. I can't stand for you to tape me 
like this. Don't do this, please." She starts sobbing all 
over again.

"Oh I'll film you all right. You'll get so hot when you see 
yourself like this later, and so will I. Now look at the 
camera. I'm going to have to punish you anyway, but if you 
don't cooperate right now I'll have to be cruel."

So she turns her face to the camera and he takes a good 
close up, showing the ugly, red-and-swollen look that comes 
with heavy crying. She doesn't turn away again. Her actions 
could almost have been scripted.

"It's almost as wet up her as down there," he says, jerking 
the camera toward her sex. The room swirls and jerks while 
he puts the camera back wherever it had been resting, so 
that it is again pointing half-down at her.

There is a sound of things bumping, then he steps toward 
her from the direction of the lens, holding a belt by the 
buckle end.

"Let's get your punishment over with."

She just stares at the belt. The end is pointed and metal 
tipped. Shiny. The buckle end is looped twice around his 
fist to give him a good hold.

"I'm going to give you ten of the best, and you're going to 
count them for me. Do you understand?"

She stares at the belt, her eyes wide. She doesn't say a 
word, but nods. 

* * * * *

Watching this from the couch the little girl said "No, he 
can't do that," and the boy told her to be still. Whatever 
happens already happened. She can't change it. Then the 
girl sat hunched over, with her hands near her eyes, but 
she was afraid to try to cover them again.

* * * * *

"Let's start," says the husband. "Show your love to the 
instrument of your correction."

The camera pans to her head again. Slowly, from the top of 
the screen, the tip of the belt wriggles into view. She 
looks up at it red faced, her mouth twisted in an anguish 
looked. When the tip passes close to mouth she raises her 
head and catches it in her lips. It is a tender grasp, as 
one would capture a lover's lip while she moved her face 
across yours. The girl's mother holds the tip while more 
belt is lowered, until it begins to loop. Then she sucks 
the tip into her mouth. The camera adjusts to present a 
super close-up of her face.

More belt is fed to her, and she takes it in, alternately 
sucking and using her lips. After a few seconds there is 
more. She starts to consume this as well, but gags. She 
turns her head to the side and makes a belching noise and 
holds herself perfectly still. When she turns her head back 
up her eyes are watering. She gags again, not as 
forcefully, lies still for the moment, then looks toward 
the boy's father with pleading in her eyes and shakes her 
head in a tiny "no." 

One can see her throat at the bottom of the screen. She is 
swallowing repeatedly. When more belt is fed to her, she 
makes a quiet sound of despair but eats it slowly. How much 
has she in her mouth? More belt. Some more. Suddenly in 
mid-swallow she heaves and, turning her head quickly away 
from the camera, she loses the entire tangle of belt, 
bathed in saliva and mucus. Nothing else comes out. Her 
face is hidden, but her breasts rise and fall rapidly with 
her breathing.

* * * * *

The girl scarcely moved watching all of this. It was as 
though she'd forgotten the boy's presence. A hand went over 
her mouth but her eyes never left the screen. Her world 
changed right then, her view of it. The boy was busy 
rubbing his prick through his jeans, up and down. He didn't 
care if she saw him or not. He'd rather she did.

* * * * *

On the screen the boy's father is speaking.

"You're so lovely, my dear, and do try so hard to be 
obedient. Let's get your punishment over with so that I can 
make you happy again." 

He changes the camera focus so that the girl's mother is 
visible from her head to her vagina. He is visible only 
intermittently, at the edge of the frame, but his penis 
sometimes sticks out into the frame even when he is 
otherwise not seen.

"Since it was your belly that wouldn't hold your water, 
that's where I'm going to whip you."

His arm rises through the edge of the picture, so rapidly 
that the belt is merely a blur, and then he brings it down 
just as quickly. There is a loud pop, almost a snap, when 
the belt lands. All her muscles tense and she bucks on the 
bed. Her cry is strangely hoarse to one raised on Hollywood 
fare, in which women have high pitched screams for all 
occasions.

"Ohh, ohh. One. Oh please, please. Oh God." 

God is nowhere to be seen, but her husband stands there 
while she twists on the bed and her crying fades away. Once 
she seems settled he whips her again, again a single 
stroke. She manages to say "two" but her crying and 
struggling are more frantic, more panicked, as though she 
thinks she may not be able to make it to ten. She begs 
between strokes, pleads, promises him the world if he will 
stop. She will be so good to him.

* * * * *

The boy noticed that the camera could pick up the whip 
marks on her belly. They were about an inch apart and 
displayed the pointed shape of the belt's tip. A tiny bit 
of blood was oozing from the very tip of one of them. He 
showed this to his stepsister, who didn't want to look. She 
was breathing fast and holding herself stiff and shaking. 
He backed the tape up to show her, and when she saw it she 
made a crying sound way back in her throat, but while her 
eyes grew wet she didn't, at this time, cry. 

* * * * *

At "seven" the wife forgets to count.

She is pulling and twisting, her face even redder than 
before, her chest heaving and her mouth open in a massive 
grimace while she pulls against her ropes, each of them, 
then all of them at once. What one can hear is scattered 
words, "no," and "please" and "stop" among the cries and 
gasps.

"You're not submitting correctly, my dear," he says. His 
face is now right over hers. "We're going to have to add 
two strokes. Now let's begin again, with 'seven'."

She can still squeal. *That* she can do. She pleads some 
more and then he whips her.

"Say it."

When he is done he turns out the light and leaves her. 
There is the sound of a door closing. The camera stays on, 
though, and she is still vaguely visible, crying, then 
whimpering to herself for awhile, and then becoming still, 
as though asleep. Finally the screen goes snowy.

* * * * *

The boy turned to his stepsister. She was afraid to look at 
him, afraid for him to touch her, afraid to move away.

"Look at me."

Shyly, slowly she turned her eyes upward. Only her eyes. He 
looked the same as always, the big brother she loved. Would 
he do something terrible to her now? She waited for her 
doom, trembling, hyperventilating. She was dizzy and the 
world had passed through some portal into a place she 
didn't recognize.

What he did was lean down and kiss her on the head. She 
jerked when he began the movement, but he did nothing bad. 
He said:

"There's one last scene. It'll start in a minute."

* * * * *

Sure enough there is suddenly a picture. 

Her mother is on the bed, on her back but not bound. The 
light is back on. His father is kissing her, a full open-
mouthed kiss. The camera catches their tongues stroking 
each other. The fingers of a freed hand pass through his 
hair and pull his head down to her. When he shifts his 
weight one can see that her stomach is a mess, covered in 
overlapping belt-width welts. The most prominent welts are 
on the edges. In three spots the skin has been broken and 
she has bled a little.

The wet bedding between her legs is visible as well, still 
dark with her water.

The sound quality is worse than before. One has to listen 
carefully. The mother first, is saying something like 'I 
love you so much' and 'must look so terrible,' but the 
father disagrees. His voice carries better.

"You're God's beautiful woman. I'll show you the tape 
later. You'll see. Where you hate yourself the most, when 
your eyes are red and swollen, you are the most erotic 
creature. The whole world would want to fuck you, but only 
I get to."

She holds him tightly, still holding his head to her. She 
says "Show me Sweetheart. Let me see it."

"No. Not when you're high. I'll let you see it when you 
need a spark. Not now."

He moves down to a breast and sucks the nipple into his 
mouth. She makes a delightful whimper, a sexual one, and 
continues to stroke his hair. Next the other nipple. He 
looks up at her.

"You're salty, love. I'm going to clean you a little."

He moves his face to her stomach. He starts licking and 
sucking on her welts.

"Unh! Oh darling, more softly please. Oh! Oh!"

His mouth is slow and loving, going over every line. He 
spends extra time where she has bled. Her breathing 
quickens and she begins to whimper all over again, but she 
protests only when he hits an especially sensitive spot or 
sucks especially hard, so there are occasional sounds of 
"oh, softer darling, don't be so hard darling." She uses a 
lot of "oh's." Her hands come down to the back of his head 
to pull him into her soft belly, then jerk away from him 
spastically to shake rigidly in the air, fingers splayed, 
then come back to him.

When he is done with her stomach he moves to her vagina, 
lying face-first on those urine-soaked sheets, and begins 
eating her, still slowly and lovingly, working on her 
labia, her clitoris, her slit, her cunt. There's no hurry, 
though she tries to hurry him by pulling him to her harder. 
Her breaths are fuller, richer, louder, and after a bit it 
is clear that she is close. She pushes her sex at him but 
he just keeps on at his own pace until anyone watching the 
video can tell she is very close. Then he moves his mouth 
right over her sex and begins sucking and she comes loudly.

The tape ends. The boy wondered why it ended before his 
father got to fuck her.

* * * * *

There were just the two of them in the half-lit room, no 
naked parents on the TV. The girl seemed dazed. She stared 
at the blank screen, her head in a whirl, not knowing what 
to do or say, wondering fearfully what he would do now.

"That's what they do. Wasn't it great?"

Silence.

"Well, wasn't it?"

"No."

"You liked the sexing. It was obvious."

"Well I didn't like him hurting her!" Now she felt a rage 
she could express.

 "Maybe not, but she did. You saw how sexed up she got 
after he punished her."

 "She couldn't like it."

"But she did. It makes her love him. You know how lovey-
dovey she's always being with him. She's always happy 
around him. You know that."

Just as suddenly there was a hole in her emotions. What 
happened to the rage? Where did it go? She knew he was 
right, and the knowledge made her lose her way in this new 
world.

"Maybe, though, maybe it only happened the one time."

"Uh-uh, Sissy, there are other tapes. He's always making 
her do different things. I'll show them to you some other 
time."

"I don't want to see them."

"You're just upset because you've never seen this stuff 
before. I bet you've never even seen a hard-on, have you?"

Silence.

"Well, all men get them for sex. Like this."

He stood up directly in front of her and pulled open his 
pants so that his prick danced back and forth in front of 
her.

The world shifted again. She held herself against the back 
of the couch as hard as she could. She held her breath. Her 
eyes followed his dick, going back and forth like she was 
being hypnotized. It occurred to her that she should 
protest.

"Put it away! I don't want to see it!" She tried to look 
away.

"Oh no you don't. You look *now*!" He used a forceful 
voice. "And hold it in your hand. Do it!"

Finally she cried. Her face contorted and grew red, and 
while she tried to control herself she couldn't stop a flow 
of tears down her cheeks. At the same time she leaned 
forward and put her right hand on him, to placate him. She 
tried to grab him on the shaft exactly between the balls 
and head, so that she wouldn't have to touch either, but 
for a moment she couldn't bring herself to actually touch 
it at all. Then she did touch it just barely, but jerked 
her hand away because it felt so alien and hot. It was her 
third attempt before she could make herself close her 
fingers around it.

"I don't want to do this. Please don't make me." She wasn't 
actually crying anymore, but you couldn't tell it from her 
voice. He loved that she was begging.

"You hold it until I tell to let go. Good. Now, I'll let 
you let go and I'll pull my pants back up, but on one 
condition."

She couldn't look away from the cock in her hand, the 
reddish head just above her thumb, the wrinkled testes, the 
wild brown hair. Her hand was infinitely pale and smooth in 
comparison.

Finally, "What is it?"

"That you take off your clothes and let me touch you 
wherever I want to." 

Again, she didn't respond. None of her circuits were 
working just right. She looked at him blankly, before all 
at once having comprehension. She shook, a great shudder, 
then dropped her hand from him. She rose slowly from the 
couch, eased around him to be sure not to touch him, and 
took off her clothes.

There wasn't much, a t-shirt, shorts, and underwear. She 
turned her head to the side and stripped them off as fast 
as she could. Then he spoke again, in a different voice.

"I won't hurt you. Don't worry about that. And I won't make 
you do anything to me. Not now. Look."

He pulled up and fastened his pants. It was hidden again.

"Now come here." 

He took one of her hands and led her to the couch. He sat 
and pulled her down to him. She didn't resist. She was like 
a zombie. It was time to play with her.

* * * * * 

So she lay in his arms and he began to pet her. He did it 
like you would your cat. That's why they call it petting. 
Like you would a cat, except there's so much more in it for 
you. He petted her hairless body, moving the whole palm of 
his hand up from her belly to her little tits, the nipples 
that were starting to bloom far ahead of the rest of her. 
Just pointy little things. Tits. He said the word to 
himself.

He had moved his hand very softly up her front, after which 
he moved it around over one nipple, then the other, 
brushing their tops, almost scraping them with the palm, 
making them get bigger and meatier. She looked at his hand 
and held herself completely stiff.

He petted her downward, from her tits to her belly button 
and on down to her little slit of a vagina. She was holding 
her legs tightly together, so he moved the palm sides of 
his fingers back and forth over her closed vagina. He 
tickled her thighs, as far down as he could get his hand 
without pressing, down to her knees and then back up to her 
sex. His index finger moved up and down in her slit; no 
other fingers. 

She was still completely stiff, still staring at his hand, 
but she had gotten flushed and she was panting. That could 
mean any number of things.

"Open your legs up."

"No. I won't."

"The deal was I get to touch you anywhere I want. So do it, 
or they find out about you and the videotape."

She looked almost ready to cry again. Her eyes were damp 
and red and her lips were quivering. The rest of her fight 
left her. She opened her legs a little, and when he used 
his hands to push her open wide she didn't resist.

Now he could pet her right. He could move his hand 
crosswise, from one knee, up her inner thigh to her sex as 
lightly as he could, making sure to caress the entire sex, 
then down the inner thigh to the other knee. Then back. 
Over and over. 

She began to feel pleasure. Not the transient pleasure that 
comes from the touch, but the pleasure that stays, that 
fades only slowly, and that makes one anticipate the next 
stroke.

Even afraid, she hadn't lost the thrill in her bowels that 
comes from doing something forbidden. Her beloved brother. 
He hadn't hurt her, though she was still scared and 
disturbed. Making her lie back in his arms, he was gentle 
with his massaging and caressing. He gave her little 
chills. Every time his hand crossed her slit she tensed, 
but his touch was so very light, giving her a tiny bit of 
sex pleasure. It came back again. Again. She felt stirring. 
He did it again. He masturbated her softly, rhythmically, 
initiating her to the pleasure, caressing more firmly over 
time. Doing it repeatedly.

She didn't want to feel pleasure, not really, but he 
brought it out. He made her get little thrills. In the 
course of a few minutes she went from dread and fear to 
expectation, to hope, even to impatience. She relaxed her 
body. She let him lead and stopped trying to get in the 
way. The fear was still there, but far in the background.

He changed his strokes, now going up and down on her sex, 
brushing her clitoris on the way. Stroke down from her hood 
to her ass. Use your whole hand. Keep doing it.

As small as she is it was no problem to pet her in one 
stroke from her belly button all the way to her anus. Pet 
her sweet, silky skin while she lies in your arms, your 
hand caressing her, feeling nothing but female flesh and 
peach fuzz, your hand never really leaving some part of her 
sex.

She didn't know she wasn't stiff anymore, but knew that her 
whole sex felt full and tight. She shaped herself more into 
his body, watching his hand as intently as ever. If she'd 
thought of looking in the mirror she'd have seen that her 
face was red, especially her forehead. Her mouth was open a 
little bit, to let her breath flow faster and suddenly she 
made an "Ohhh" sound that went on for a bit, the pitch 
changing as she breathed in and out. A little preliminary 
cry. Then she began saying "Oh" only as she exhaled, again 
and again. She widened her spread legs herself, still 
gazing at his magic hand.

It was pure sex, nothing distant or pushed by fantasy, but 
immersion in the pleasure and excitement for the first 
time. Still he petted her and finally she spoke, sounding 
like someone who has just finished a race.

"Don't. Don't do that anymore. You shouldn't do that. You 
shouldn't do that to me."

* * * * *

How sweet it is when they become alarmed at their first 
pleasuring.

He stopped, took his hand entirely off her sex and away 
from her body. This would be good.

She looked at his hand, then to his face, then back. She 
didn't know to ask for it, or what to do with these new 
feelings and this force inside her body, so she stared back 
and forth, a terrible questioning look in her child's eyes. 

"Do you really want me to stop doing it?"

He was so engorged that his penis hurt from being trapped 
in his pants with her lying across his lap.

There wasn't any response at all for a moment. Because the 
room was quiet all either could hear was her breathing. She 
looked away from him and he knew she was deciding to 
commit. Oh you sweet little bitch. The things I'll do to 
you.

When she finally looked at him she said "I don't know," but 
she also nodded in that shy fashion of young girls. He put 
a hand back on her, but not on her little pudendum. He 
caressed her inflated nipples as before and said:

"Say it. Tell me what you want me to do."

Silence.

"Then we're done, if you can't say that one little thing."

"No. I'll do it."

Her face was so beautiful, so childlike but showing a 
woman's desire. He hadn't been entirely sure that such a 
little girl could be driven by sexual want.

"Ask sweetly."

"I can't say that."

"Then we're done."

"No. Okay. Okay. Okay, I'll ask it. Will you please touch 
my vagina some more?"

"Do you know what I'm doing?"

She nodded.

"What's the word?"

She didn't understand.

"What's the word for what I'm doing to you?"

"I don't know."

"I'm masturbating you. Do you know that word?"

"Yes," and a nod. He trailed his hand back down to her sex 
and pushed down through her slit with his thumb. She was 
wet and slippery, something else he wasn't sure until then 
that such a young girl could be. When his thumb glided 
through her she gasped and made a squeak.

"Where did you learn that word?" He used the thumb again 
and stared into her face as her eyes closed completely for 
a second. His eyes were the first things she saw when she 
opened hers again.

"Where did you learn that word? Tell me."

"It was in a book I got from the library. And some girls I 
know talk about it sometimes."

"Have you done it to yourself?"

No, she hadn't.

The thumb again.

"You will. But it won't be as good as when a man does it to 
you."

He took his hand off her sex, brushed in a tickling fashion 
down the insides of her thighs, then back up to her 
nipples, skirting her sex on the way.

"Sex isn't just men doing things to you, and not just doing 
things you like either. It's like on the tape. You have to 
do things back, even things you don't want to do at first, 
and you have to let them do all kinds of things. Some of 
the things men will do to you you won't like, but when 
you're a good girl and you do what you're told, that's when 
you get the most pleasure. It's natural."

As he said this her eyes scrolled up and to the left, so he 
knew she was thinking about the tape, Mommy's mouth on 
Daddy's penis, Mommy with penis cream on her breasts, Mommy 
spread and whipped, caught up in her passion as Daddy did 
something with his mouth to her vagina.

* * * * * 

"And now you're going to learn how to kiss."

What was that? Of course she knew how to kiss. But of 
course she knew nothing, only theory, her experiences being 
only little pursed-lips kisses for her parents. He began to 
teach her the real thing, how open mouths worked and what 
tongues tasted like. While he did this he pushed two 
fingers up into her vagina. He expected to find a barrier 
but there was none, so he pushed his fingers all the way 
in, fucking her with them.

He hand fucked her while he kissed her. He knew what was 
coming but she didn't, not really, again only in theory, so 
he watched her face while he kissed her to see it begin. 
She was by now enslaved by what he was doing. She wouldn't 
want it ever to end, but it did of course, and when it did 
it caught her by surprise. She was already swept up in the 
pleasure and excitement, but when her orgasm began she knew 
just a second or two beforehand that something was 
changing, then it rushed up and out of her. She arched her 
back and went rigid and cried into his mouth, after which 
she lay in his arms and felt it go on and on.

* * * * *

What would he do with her next? When she had finally 
finished and lay there limply, looking up to him with that 
awe that marks one's first knowledge of the real power of 
sex, he had warned her to never, ever tell anyone, that she 
would put them both in danger if she told. It might not be 
very long before their parents returned, so he put her to 
bed. He turned out her light and ran his hands over her 
body, making a proprietary statement with them.

"The next time I'm going to make you do things too, Sissy. 
Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh. I will. I promise." He knew she would.

"Don't mention this even to me. No one says anything at 
all. I 'm in charge, understand?" She nodded. "When I 
decide it's time I'll tell you what we're going to do, and 
when."

He masturbated in the shower, spraying the drain with spurt 
after spurt of cream at what he had done. He was planning a 
future. He would teach her to suck, teach her to fuck. He 
would teach her to accept ropes and blindfolds. Especially 
he would teach her to submit.

In bed that night he jacked off again. He wanted to go 
slowly to allow time for a fantasy of what he would do to 
her. He caressed his penis with his left hand, softly 
moving it from balls to head. He held his right hand to his 
nose because he could still smell a little of her vagina on 
his fingertips. What couldn't he do to her? He came again, 
then went to sleep while playing the fantasy. Can we 
describe the fantasy that so entranced him? It played for 
him like a videotape.

* * * * * 

You would see her breathing and movements in it. They could 
be taken for those of a women caught up in passion. Her 
breathing is fast, fast gulps of air followed by 
exhalations that end with a sound, something subvocal, 
perhaps a whimper, perhaps a grunt. Something high pitched 
in any case, like a woman responding to sexual pleasure and 
unable to control herself.

Other than her breathing she doesn't move except when he 
hurts her. There's just the rapid shaking of her sweat-
covered chest and belly, sucking the air in and expelling 
it. It is so beautiful to him. When he hurts her she moves, 
but she is too tired to put much into it. All she can do is 
writhe. Her vocalizations get louder and higher pitched, 
but one could scarcely call them real cries. No extravagant 
screams, no jerking or flailing, no begging. She already 
knows that she can't beg or plead, or apologize. Her job 
now is to take it, but she can't. All she can do is breath.

It is a super close-up. He is right up against her, between 
hurts caressing her all over her body, kissing her neck and 
face, licking and nuzzling her. It is so intimate. He 
whispers in her ear, soothing words, low and soft.

"You're so beautiful. You don't know how much more 
beautiful you've become since you decided to be obedient. 
My sweet, obedient bitch." His voice is breathy. 

It is better than videotape. You can see inside her mind. 
She feels his mouth moving against her ear. She is tiny and 
helpless. Less than helpless. She is nothing and he is 
omnipotent. All her attention is on him, on his hands 
running so softly over her nipples and thighs, and 
especially on his lips moving against her ear. Her aches 
and hurt and terror and overwhelming exhaustion are 
background elements. He stands out above them.

"You're finding out, aren't you? That I'm the center of 
everything for you, aren't you Sis. You listen to 
everything I say and you'll do everything I tell you, 
right?"

How does he know? He knows everything of course. During 
this the camera in his head pulls back so that you can see 
all of her. She continues her fast, ragged gulps and her 
whimpers. Her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, like 
that of a middle distance runner. 

"You'll be very, very good, won't you?"

She tries to nod, to let him know she agrees. But of course 
he already knows, doesn't he?

"Now it's time to continue your punishment, you sweet 
thing."

He ignores the change in her vocalizations, the raised 
timber, the despair. He puts a long pin through the ring 
holding her mouth open, to her upper gum, over her front 
teeth, and gives a strong push. She writhes again, moving 
sinuously, like a lovely sea creature, a mermaid under 
water, and her heightened cries are like those of a woman 
experiencing orgasm. He pushes the pin hard for several 
seconds, pulls it back slightly to move to another spot, 
pushes again, does it again. She can't even keep the cries 
going and by the time he is done with this round her 
writhing has diminished greatly. He steps away, puts down 
the pin, then resumes caressing her body and whispering 
soothing words to her. Her chest rises and falls, rises and 
falls, and always her breaths end with a whimper.

The screen goes blank. 

 * * * * *

He slept beautifully. The next morning he even had 
breakfast with his parents and joked with his step mom, 
while she cooked, about how much she'd miss fixing him 
meals while on her trip. His stepsister sat next to him at 
the table, her face in the Sunday funnies, and didn't say 
two words to anyone.

End.

 
