Brother, Sister (3 of 3)

i was kinda planning on HNT this week, the first of the new Year and all, but i decided…what the hell, let’s finish the story rather than leaving you all hanging. ‘sides…tisn’t  like you’ve never seen  a Half-Nekkid nilla before…

He drove carefully, but swiftly to the loft. He’d bought it when he’d first scored big at work, landing a plum promotion at year five. The top floor of a former furniture factory, it had endless rows of windows, seeming acres of polished concrete floors, and support beams that made the entire loft accessible for the type of sex sport he most enjoyed.

The rough kind.

The tie-‘m-up and fuck ’em kind.

The’ no-one-hears-your-screams’ kind.

The private parking area and elevator that served the top floor was his alone. Which was convenient when one had a woman trussed, cuffed, and gagged.

Even more so when the woman in question was his sister.

He helped her move slowly across the short distance from his parking space to the freight elevator. She shuffled, casting him a glance that he interpreted as annoyed.

The front of her coat was wet and streaky with drool from the ball gag that still plugged her lovely mouth. The color of the ball was nearly identical to the color of her lipstick, ironically. He was a man who appreciated irony.

As the elevator rose, creaking its way to the 4th floor, he pushed her against the back wall, sliding his hands up under her coat to palm her tits. They were magnificent, large, full, with protuberant nipples that pressed against his palms through the lace of her bra. Begging. They were begging for him.

Almost as much as her eyes were.

His hands, oh gawd. So strong, so big. Those circles…gawd…He’s rubbing circles as his hands cradle my tits.  OH! Ow! Ow…squeezing…hurts. Hurts. owwww. Fucking gag.  ohhhhh i love when he does that to my nipples, just brushes over them. ohgawd He’s squeezing again. Each one is harder, tighter than the last. Until, as the elevator stops,  He’s squashing my tits into agony. He holds me there against the wall, tits pressed halfway to my face…and then drops them. Even with my bra, that hurts.

Gawd it’s never felt this good with anyone before.

The elevator shuddered to a stop, and he dropped her tits. He lifted the inner gate, pushed aside the slat doors, and guided her carefully out.

She’d been here before, but not for a long while. It was spare, but elegant. He had always tended to Spartan tendencies, even as a boy living at home.

Though he’d never had a fucking swing hanging in his bedroom at home, now that he thought about it. Nor a St. Andrews cross, a spanking bench, or any of the other accoutrements he’d gathered in his years as a Dominant.

He stopped, thinking.

To the left, his dark, gleaming dining room table. He could pull her over there, sit her ass down and talk to her.

He pulled her, none to gently now, across to where the spanking bench gleamed sleekly under one of the spotlights that came on when he flicked the switch.  He threw a speculative glance her way, saw that she knew what this was.

So, she wasn’t totally inexperienced. Interesting.

He could smell her cunt. So, too, did his cock take heed of her scent. Her body screamed sex-need.

His thrummed in answer with his own jungle beat pulsing in the hardened shaft held behind the zipper of his Saville Row suit pants.

He put me on the bench. i didn’t want a spanking. i was almost delirious with the need now. i’d thought that Buck would scratch my itch for me, but this was so far off from where my lust for a good hard fuck had begun. Oh how i wanted his hands on me again. The fucking vibe he’d shoved against my clit had me grinding my hips against the bench, for all the good that did me.

Which is to say, none at all. i felt him lifting my coat, my skirt, exposing my ass, with the little wisp of lace sandwiched in my crack. i felt the breeze, and knew there was nothing between my skin and his hand.  i was feeling kind of pissed now. He wasn’t even going to take off my fucking coat?!

He rubbed my cheeks, smoothed his hard hand across and around the curves; then, without further ado, proceeded to whack the living daylights out of my ass. First his hands, so hard, so smooth, so hot.

i heard him step away, crossing the room to where i couldn’t see him.  The sound of his heels crossing towards me made my cunt go molten.  i wondered what He was going to do, then i  no longer had to wonder, as i felt a sharp, stinging blow on my left cheek. Heard him move again, and felt the same painful sting on my upper thigh.

“Crop. Hurts like a fucking bugger, doesn’t it, little sister?”

“mufferffffferrr” He didn’t understand. Or if he did, he didn’t really act like he did. He was always doing bastardy things like that to me when we were kids. It seemed unfair for him to do it…now… and he really was a motherfucker sometimes.

He slapped the crop sharply on her ass, until she was flinching, moaning, crying. In one quick move, he pushed aside the bit of lace and shoved his fingers up and into her cunt. He wasn’t gentle about the finger fucking.

While his fingers were busy, he bent down and took a large chunk of her ass in his mouth.

And bit.

He felt the spray of her cum splash over his hand, even as she screamed at the sharpness of teeth against bruised buttocks. Fucking little slut, she came again.

When he finally released her ass from his teeth, he slapped her, right there where he’d bitten,  sharply, and with some rancor.

“No cumming without permission, slut. I know you know how this is done. That was no novice I witnessed at the party tonight. You’ve played before, so you understand the rules…and I don’t know of a single Dom who won’t make you beg before you spray your juices.”

He watched her head bobble, feebly. She was overcum, that was for certain, but she understood.

He lifted her from the bench, spun her so she lolled against him for support. He raised her head by a hunk of hair, holding her up like a head-hunter holds a prized trophy.

He shook her head. He wasn’t gentle about it. She was his little sister and he knew what she could take. He’d tortured her enough through the years to know she was one tough little cookie.

The urge to take, to fuck, staggered Him. But he wouldn’t cross that line until she gave it to him. Gave it to him with a bit of… desperation. He wanted to see pure, naked need shining out of her bright blue eyes.

“What do you want from me, little girl?”

She stared at him, tears of pain from her pulled hair welling and slipping from her eyes.  His eyes bored into her, sizzling with the sexual energy snapping between them.

For a long moment there was only the sound of her ragged breathing around the edges of the gag, wet and syrupy.


He canted his head to one side, looking at her.

“Sorry? come again?”

She rolled her eyes. He slapped her face. The leather straps took most of the blow, but the message was real. He was a Dom. Don’t fuck with Him, don’t be rude to Him.

“hooeee   hur..”

“hmmm,” He replied. “You better be sorry.”

‘weeth ma oi uck uuo Hur?”

“Did you just ask me to fuck you?”

she nodded. He was close enough to the crux of her message. her cunt was throbbing, her ass was throbbing, her cheek, where He had struck her, throbbing. She wanted. She wanted. she looked at him, begging with her eyes, her body.

“But you’re my little sister. Hmmm. An interesting problem we have here, don’t we.”

She continued to look up at him; he was still holding the topknot of hair in his fist.

“You did cum all over my hand.”

she nodded, the movement pulling her hair painfully.

He looked at her, then dropped the hank of hair. He took her wrists, uncuffed them. Bending, he uncuffed her ankles.

“Strip. Be quick about it, before I change my mind.”

She flushed; this part always embarrassed her. But for it to be her big brother? He stood, looking at her, arms folded across his chest, watching her. He was looking at her almost dispassionately. She felt like a bug under a microscope. He watched every move she made, but no expression crossed his face.  She couldn’t even see if  he was still hard, with that suit jacket neatly covering him.  She’d doffed her coat, folding it neatly and laying it on the floor beside her. Quickly her shirt, skirt, and bra lay on the pile. She made to remove her thong, but he forestalled her.

“panties, hose, shoes stay on. Look at you. You’re nipples are hard a stones. What a fucking little slut you are, baby girl”

she shivered when he called her ‘baby girl’…that had been his nickname for her all her growing up years. She’d been a baby when her parents adopted her, and they’d taken to calling her that through her toddler years. But big brother could never let it go, and would torment her with the nickname.

She wondered why the fuck it made her so wet now.

His gaze danced over her body, touching her like a flame. Again and again his eyes returned to her tits. She could barely stand the excitement, the humiliation of that heated gaze. Her legs trembled, and she felt juice slipping from her pussy, coating her inner thighs.  Her ass throbbed with its own heat.

He turned from her, went to a cabinet on the far wall, behind the bench.  He watched her in the mirror inside, smiling to himself when her eyes widened.  He gazed at the inside of the double-doored cabinet which held his implements of torture all neatly hanging, smaller toys laying on the little shelves.  It was, he admitted to himself, an impressive collection, years in the making. He trailed a finger over the hanging enema bag, enjoying the expression of horror in her eyes, before his finger drifted to one of the little drawers to the right. He took out clamps, two styles, and several lengths of chain. There was something about a slut with strands of chain hanging from her tits that made his cock hard as stone. Tits were his thing.

He strode back to her, and taking her by a nipple, pulled her rapidly through the loft. She was nearly trotting behind, very anxious to not lose her nipple, he supposed with a little smirk. He was holding it rather securely.

she practically ran to keep up with him. He was being so bastardy, so Dom, and she was shaking with the force of her need now. She tried not to think about the clover clamps in his other hand, or how heavy one of those chains looked. She’d never had more than a light chain, and not for all that long. It seemed that big brother knew exactly which kinks would turn her on, turn her up.

She hoped he’d take out the gag soon. It had to be close to an hour or more, and her jaw was aching. Not to mention the drool which was now sliding onto her tits, her belly. So fucking gross. What the fuck was the turn-on for Doms there? Drool? She wanted to yell. if he wanted drool, he could babysit a teething one-year old fercrissakes.

it was so fucking *ick*

He stopped her in the middle of a corner nook he called his back room. The light streamed down from the ceiling. She tried not to wince as his tension on her nipple never waned. A large, thick cable hung from the steel support beam overhead.  The sight of the huge hook hanging from the end made her heart race with fear.

Why it made her cunt begin to pour juice she had no idea.

He pulled the wrist cuffs from his suit jacket pocket, and fastened them around her slim wrists. He hooked the thick meat-hook between her wrists, told her how to hold onto it.


His order was curt, and she had no intention of disobeying. He crossed the room, depressed a button on a box hanging on the beam there.

it was like a fucking movie set or something. She watched as a winch up above began to turn, slowly, pulling the hook upwards. When her arms were fully over her head, he stopped it. She was fully extended, tits jutting outwards, able to stand in her heels, and move a bit.

A very small bit.

She watched as he carefully removed his jacket, his tie. He unbuttoned his shirt, but kept it on, then slowly, teasing almost, he uncuffed each of his wrists, rolling the sleeves almost to his elbow, tucking his cufflinks into his pants pocket. The bulge of his cock was visible for a moment, until he pulled out his belt, and untucked his shirt. He was so incredibly….hawt. The simmering power was there in every crisp movement. He was self-assured, and there was, truly, nothing sexier.

He came up behind her, pressing his chest against her back, his bulging cock against her burning ass. She moaned. His fingers tangled in her hair as he unbuckled the gag, and pulled it free, wiping the drool-coated ball against her belly.

“such a dirty little slut you are, aren’t you baby girl? hmmmm?” he crooned in her ear.

He listened to her panting breath, the small gasps and moans. He loved the audible sounds of a cunt in heat. Even when the cunt was his own little sister.

He tucked the gag into his back pocket, the reached around and cupped her tits, pulling them away from her body. His chin hooked over her shoulder, pressing her head to the side, her upraised arm cradling his cheek.

“Such succulent tits you have, little cunt. Your nipples are perfect. Perfect. I will enjoy them for a while before we get on to anything else, right?”

She moaned. She needed to be fucked. She needed it so bad, so bad, so bad. Her cunt clenched, her clit throbbed.

‘oh please Sir please fuck me.”

His voice was husky, breathing into her ear. “lil slut wants to bargain?”

She nodded. She’d do anything to be fucked. Anything. His voice continued, the whispers dark, dirty.

She shook her head.  NO! no, not that. please please…She moaned again as his fingers, so fucking strong and clever, plucked at her nipples, lifting and dropping her tits.

His cock teased against her lower back, her ass, as he moved against her in a slow, sexual, sensual dance.  As He  pressed tightly to her, the cable above creaked softly in counterpoint. Small circles against her ass, small circles in the small space she had to move in.  His voice, soft, seductive, whispered in her ear, a taunt, a tease, not quite an order.

“My way or no way, little cunt. My way or no way.”

She felt tears sting her eyes. It was every erotic fantasy she’d ever had, ever, come true. But could she ? Would she?

He stepped to the front, and put the first clamp on her sensitized nipple. She moaned, and he knew she felt the answering response deep in her belly. His hand rubbed between her thighs. She was so fucking wet that a puddle was forming between her legs on the floor.  He rubbed her clit, hard little circles meant to tease, tantalize, torment. He was such a fucking bastard. He really liked that about himself.


okay A/all….this is hugely long, so i’m breaking it up for one. more. day.

unless…you want me to stop here?

*laughs wickedly*

i thought not…..