Act 01

"You look beautiful like that," I heard him whisper. "So beautiful and trusting and vulnerable for me..."

I tugged gently at the restraints. I had rather scant range of movement, and while that was scary in a way, it was also thrilling on a level I had never previously experienced. While I could not quite identify with a quote I had seen online from a slave when she stated that "i find my greatest freedom in being tied up," I was already starting to get a sense of the appeal: giving my safety and security to someone I trusted fully, putting him in charge of whatever was to happen to me, effectively surrendering my decision making authority to him for a while...

On top of that, he thought I was beautiful, and he had used that specific word twice. Never before had he said that I was beautiful – he had always used phrases like "That looks nice on you" or "You look good, sis." Hearing Bryce say that I was beautiful struck me, filling my heart, and that was when my eyes slowly opened again.

He was still caressing my cheek, still leaning over me. Our eyes naturally met and locked. In the semi-romantic atmosphere created by the emergency light, I could feel something significant changing between us. It was much like early in my Sophomore year of college, when a friend from my first year held me close for the first time – in those few moments before our first kiss, while my heartbeat inexplicably began to increase and my body began to feel warmer than expected for being inside the air conditioned campus library, I had felt our status changing from strictly friends to potentially romantic partners. I tugged at the bonds again, enjoying how the leather was pressed against my inner wrists because of the lack of slack in the ropes, yet his eyes remained locked with mine.

"That's it, sis..." he whispered. "Struggle for me..."

Deep inside, I wanted to struggle for him. I wanted to make him happy by being the woman bound to his bed and subjected to his whims. That caused me to tug a bit harder, and then harder, and then harder...

Before I knew it, my arms were aching slightly, as were the insides of my wrists. I stopped pulling at the bonds, and that was when I realized that I was breathing a bit faster from my efforts. I also felt a bit warmer, and it was not just from struggling for Bryce's pleasure.

Beyond that, I was feeling wet. And once again, I could feel our status in the process of changing. While it was clear that this experience would no longer allow us to be just brother and sister, I was almost certain that there was another layer being added to our relationship, but I was still uncertain exactly what that layer was or would become.

Bryce lifted his head away at last, his eyes and his hand both gliding down my cheek, my neck, my collarbone...

He watched his hand moving to the top button of my blouse. As his fingers began to work, his eyes returned to my face as if checking me, questioning me. My breath caught in my throat for a moment as my mind recognized the significance of what his fingers were attempting to do:

My older brother was trying to undress me.

My body was responding as one might expect. My heart was beating a little faster, and my wetness was growing in anticipation and in desire.

The desire was unexpected – very unexpected – but I assumed that it was because I guy I trusted was trying to get into my clothes. I had never denied Bryce anything if it was in my power to get it or to assist him in any way, and while part of me cringed at the idea of my older brother undressing me and possibly seeing me topless or even fully naked, part of me wanted to let him see whatever he wanted to see.

I pulled again at the restraints. They were so basic, so simple, yet so effective – both for physical bondage and for the mindset I was in. Much of what I had seen in online video clips had been somewhat elaborate: nicely-adorned collars and cuffs, large pieces of furniture to which women had been bound in various manners, expensive handcrafted hoods and whips and decorative jewelry...

Without intending to do so, I thrust my chest upward. Perhaps that was the "trick," because the top button of my blouse was suddenly released. Together, Bryce and I both looked at the top of the garment, watching as both of his hands worked at the next button, releasing it perhaps a second later and then moving to the next button...

It felt a little hard to breathe, yet in a good way. I pulled again at the bonds, harder than before. To his credit, he paused, looking directly at my face. "You're so beautiful," he assured me, "struggling like that with your shirt half open..."

The first sound of desire passed between my lips. It was a sound I knew quite well, a sound which only three other guys had ever heard from me, each time on a much narrower, much noisier bed in a dorm room. He stopped unbuttoning the blouse, but already my cleavage was exposed. That was definitely nothing new to him, as Bryce had seen me wearing a bikini on more than a few trips to the beach or to the community swimming pool when we were growing up. Still, a bikini bra and an everyday-yet-nice bra are two different things, and according to society at large, the latter was not really intended to be seen by one's own brother.

...but when he placed a hand on a breast and squeezed gently, I no longer cared about society at large. All I cared about was the change taking place between us, my eyes fluttering closed and my head tipping back upon the pillow as I reveled in the change. I pulled at the restraints again, not to bring a smile to his lips, but because it felt good, even freeing, to be bound for him.

In the semi-romantic light of a grad student apartment, a sister was bound for her brother, and it felt absolutely natural.

His eyes began to roam: my face, each secured wrist, my heaving chest. He continued to squeeze the breast, whispering to me about how beautiful I was, how proud he was of me for making myself so vulnerable for him.

...and then he kissed me. It was only a kiss to the forehead, but he had never kissed me in the past, making the kiss all the more significant, especially since it was combined with my confinement and his fondling of my breast.

I was suddenly aware that I was writhing upon the bed, pulling harder against the bonds. "Bryce..." I whispered huskily.

He kissed my lips. My brother was kissing me – not like a sister, but like a woman... like his woman. It was a slow kiss, a respectful kiss, but I was keenly aware of his hunger for me, for the bound woman whose status as his sister apparently did not matter, and I instantly responded in kind, pulling futilely at my bonds in an instinctive attempt to wrap my arms around him as we kissed. The bondage frustrated me, prompting me to groan into his mouth and causing me to squirm even more upon the bed as the kiss continued, lingering, deepening...

When he finally lifted his head away, Bryce and I were both breathless. He was no longer fondling my breast, his hand gliding back up to stroke my cheek as he looked down upon me with unmistakable desire in his eyes. I was certain that my own eyes were mirrors of his, in more ways than one, but if he were to slip a hand up my skirt, he would have felt the wetness dampening the crotch of my panty, the wetness he had inspired and was continuing to perpetuate simply by his tender presence.

He leaned back, both of his hands returning to my blouse. The final buttons were slowly released, and the garment parted. Officially, I was still properly clothed, but for the first time, at least to my knowledge, he was seeing one of my dainty pink bras. His gaze lingered upon my chest, and for a moment I had to look down my body to verify for myself whether my erect nipples were making an indentation in the cups of the bra. There were no indentations visible, but I had a feeling that he knew my nipples had hardened.

I actually lamented the fact that I was not wearing a front-hook bra. It would have been so easy and so wonderful for my brother to release a clasp, part the cups, and be able to immediately begin sucking or pinching or licking or even biting a nipple. At the back of my mind, I was cursing myself for not even bringing a front-hook bra with me on the trip.

Leaning over me again, Bryce gently stroked me between my breasts. "How do you like your first bondage experience?" he asked me softly, smiling subtly.

At first, I did not know what to say, and then the words suddenly seemed to flow from my mouth: "You've made me wet."

His eyes narrowed as his smile widened. "Do I need to go underneath your skirt to verify that for myself?" he challenged me.

"I'm the one with her wrists tied to the headboard," I reminded him as I pulled once again at the restraints, even though a reminder was clearly not necessary. "I'm at your mercy, remember?"

He made a low sound of amusement as he winked at me. "I definitely remember," Bryce assured me.

"I'm just stuck here like a helpless damsel in distress..."

He silenced me with another kiss. His hunger for me was definitely growing as he possessed me with his mouth and practically raped me with his tongue. The feel of him penetrating my mouth was nice, but I found that I truly wanted him elsewhere inside me, forcing my wet lust from my body as he rammed himself deep into me again and again and again. Without question, I was a damsel, and I was certainly helpless, but unlike the fairytales, my distress was sexual in nature.

The oddity of the situation was that my shining knight, the one person who could save me from the distress of the moment, was the person who had rendered me helpless... and he was also my brother. What was unclear was whether this was simply a momentary lust and infatuation borne from the fact that it was Bryce who was introducing me to bondage or if this was the beginning of a true "happily ever after" relationship.

In either case, Bryce and I would be forever changed. We had already done more than enough for us to be forever changed. Never again could we look at each other strictly as siblings. If this was not just a one-time event, if my initial bondage experience developed into a true relationship...

I was breathless, my chest heaving as he sat up again, his eyes unabashedly watching the quick rise and fall of my pink-clad breasts. Still I was tugging at the restraints, part of me purely relishing the lack of freedom in such a kinky scenario and part of me secretly hoping that my struggles would entice him to keep going, to push things even further with me, because my body was primed, ready for him, ready to be taken, claimed, used, fucked – all by him.

"I want you."

At last, one of us had said it. One of us had finally gathered the courage to speak the profane words which would have damned us if anyone else had heard them.

Our eyes locked once again, each of us searching, questioning, checking, verifying. This was indeed something we each wanted, even though it was so wrong on multiple levels. But maybe that was part of the appeal for us, since we were both somewhat of the goody-two-shoes type of person. Perhaps the illicitness of the moment was what really appealed to the darker aspects of each of us, or maybe it was simply because he was an available man and I was an available woman and there was a one-in-three chance that less than twelve months later, the experiences of that particular night could be revisited every night.

Bryce stood beside the bed, and although I kept pulling against my bonds, I turned my head to watch him. My eyes widened with slight surprise but with great anticipation as his hands began to unbuckle his leather belt...

Inspired by the video clips I had seen online, I wondered if he would use the belt to hurt me, or perhaps wrap it around my neck and pull tightly to strangle me for a while before he finally forced his way into my body. While neither pain nor asphyxiation appealed to me, I would have eagerly allowed him to hurt me or choke me before sliding to me.

Instead, Bryce cast his belt to the floor and immediately unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks. My mouth was watering, thinking of him pushing past my thin lips. He continued to undress, and as I saw more of him than ever before, my desire seemed to grow even more.

Finally undressed below the waist, he stood again, climbing onto the bed before straddling my chest. He stroked himself for a moment, causing his own desire to drip onto my collarbone, before leaning forward, guiding himself...

My eyes closed and my mouth opened instinctively, yet my lips were still stretched even further as he slid into me. I moaned instantly, the sound muffled by his forbidden phallus. His angle inside my mouth shifted as he leaned further forward, bracing himself on the headboard, but once he was in the position he apparently wanted, he backed out almost completely before pressing deep into my mouth again. Slowly, he used my mouth, groaning softly at how I sucked and licked him, but although his movements were slow and deliberate, they were absolutely possessive, as if he had a right to the use of my mouth and intended to exercise that right whether I wanted it or not.

I very much wanted it, and I very much enjoyed it. While fellatio had not been a favorite sexual activity for me, I was definitely enjoying having him – specifically, him – in my mouth. I enjoyed the sweet taste of his seeping desire, the scent of his musk filling my nostrils, the smooth texture of his thin skin stretched over the hardness of the anatomy I was really never supposed to see or experience, the stretching of my lips around his girth.

I struggled – not in an attempt at freedom, but in an attempt to touch him, to add my hands to the selfless act of pleasuring him. Of course, the bonds held me firmly, linking my wrists with either end of the headboard, thwarting me from touching him, frustrating my efforts and frustrating my mind in a way which seemed to heighten the importance and the intensity of the illicit experience.

My brother finally withdrew from my mouth, giving me an opportunity to finally swallow my saliva and truly regain my breath. When I opened my eyes, however, there was an expression of horror upon his face.

"My own sister..." he breathed in a tone of disbelief, so softly that I could barely hear him.

I was wet. My nipples were hard enough that they actually ached. My entire body felt pleasantly warmer than normal. My tongue could still taste his desire. In my mind, I was begging for him to keep going, to bend my legs back and also tie my ankles to the headboard, to use me, to simply fuck me.

But there was enough common sense still active in my brain for me to look up at him serious and say, "I honestly don't care if I'm your sister. I want this. Please."

It still took a moment for the horror to begin to fade from his face. "Please," I added, pulling again at the restraints which trapped me to the very same bed I had shared with him just one night earlier.

My brother looked at me more curiously, the horror transforming to genuine concern. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "Are you really sure you want me to..."

I nodded. "Do you really like this?" he asked. "Are you really enjoying being bound for the first time?"

I pulled again at the bonds. "Absolutely, especially with you."

His eyes widened a bit, and I was almost positive that he had recognized the sincerity of what I had just said. There was a moment of hesitation during which I could almost see the calculations and the decision making process taking place behind his eyes, almost like seeing the data stream displayed in the eyes of an android in a futuristic science-fiction film. "This has been great so far," he admitted, a smile crossing his lips once again.

"Then let's not stop," I said. "We have all night. We have until Sunday morning, actually. Please, keep teaching me how good bondage can be. Show me what you like from your women." I pulled again while also, although not consciously, thrusting my chest upward at my brother. "Just don't release me, not yet."

His eyes softened, the caring persona I had known all my life returning to the fore. He even reached down to caress my cheek. "Are you sure, sis?" he asked me quietly. "Is this really what you want?"

I turned my head against his hand, placing a kiss into his open palm. When I looked up at him again, Bryce was smiling. He dismounted me, which disappointed me slightly, but he stretched out beside me upon the bed, propping up his head with a hand while his free hand gently rubbed my exposed stomach.

With a sigh and a smile, I closed my eyes. "That feels good," I admitted.

"I'm glad," I heard Bryce reply. "This is still a little weird, though."

"Was it weird at first?"

"Slightly, but it became really weird when I realized it was my own sister giving me a blowjob."

I opened my eyes and looked at him again. "I may not have Brandi Belle's mouth," I noted, "but I'm sure I can please you just as well."

"How do you know of Brandi Belle?" he challenged me.

I opened my eyes again and looked at him with a naughty smile. "Guys aren't the only ones who watch online porn, you know."

"No, I guess not." His hand moved up my stomach, up my ribs, and onto a breast, fondling me. "It's just strange, though..."

"What's strange?"

"Until you asked that question last night, I never truly thought of you as a woman, only as my little sister. And then for a while tonight, you weren't my sister, you were just a woman. And now..."

"Yeah. I know. It's... complicated."

"Very."

"You know what, though? "

"What's that?"

"I'm wet because of you – not as a brother or even as a man, but because of you, the person I've known for some twenty-one years."

Bryce was quiet for a moment as that sunk in and permeated his thoughts while his hand moved to my other breast. "You certainly have a point," he finally said, adding a gentle squeeze. "What little we've done so far has certainly felt more significant than what I've done before with anyone else."

I liked the sound of that. "That means you have a lot more you can teach me," I noted.

"I suppose I do. I suppose I do..."

"Then teach me. You know how much I love to learn."

He smiled wryly. "Some of the things I could teach you... might be a bit much right now."

"Such as?"

Bryce hesitated, then sighed. "I enjoy hurting the women who're bound and helpless for me."

Earlier, when the headiness of the experience was much more prominent, I would have eagerly allowed him to hurt me however he wanted: spanking me, pulling my hair, biting me, beating me with his belt, using a cane or a bullwhip on me, even pushing needles through my nipples – and I absolutely hated needles. But with the respite brought on by his realization that I was not just any woman, I was able to think much more clearly. "No pain tonight," I said. "We'd need to have a long talk about that first."

"As it should be in such potentially dangerous matters," he affirmed, and that was that.

We fell silent for a long time as he simply touched me, his hand roaming my face, my torso, my thighs. I closed my eyes and reveled in his touch, even though my body was silently protesting at being forced to simmer while my hormones were still raging. Oddly, it felt like a very significant bonding experience, drawing us closer together not because he was teaching me about bondage, but because we were being so open and trusting about something typically shrouded in secrecy and misunderstanding.

...just like incest.

The "i" word had come unbidden to my mind, but it was certainly appropriate. Bryce and I were guilty of incest. I had heard that in some states, and in some countries, incest was illegal. I did not know if we were in a state in which incest was officially illegal, but even if it was not a crime under the law, it was certainly a crime in the collective societal mind.