My Black Sheep Ch. 01

If I didn't lift my head and loosen the rope then I wouldn't be able to stop myself from falling. But I couldn't look away, not as Amelia's gentle hands reached my mid-thigh, shaping me as if she was forming clay. I could feel my eyes threatening to roll back into my head, and the rising need to scream out. It was too late; there was no stopping it.

"Some princes sought out the little princess as well, but not so many as her sister and none could claim her heart even briefly. They spoke sweet words, but the young princess felt them to be empty. She rejected the Princes, and the knights, and the ladies in waiting. None of them understood her."

I fell off the precipice and down into the dark canyon below the moment that both hands reached the point where my thighs were squeezed by the hem of the costume.

"For the little princess had a secret; she could never be happy. Not truly happy, anyway. She had fleeting moments of joy and laughter, yes, but she could not be whole while a part of her was still in that tower, and while voices still whispered in her ear."

All the fluid that was being pushed by her hands hit my cunt at once. The thick, warm fluid, heated by my body, pressed up against my lips. It was too much, and I felt dizzy.

"The princess even tried to bring herself joy, using every tip and trick she could find, but nothing worked to push her over that edge into bliss. She was forever just out of reach."

The orgasm hit me with the power of one of Amelia's punches: absolutely devastating. My head flew back and my eyes rolled: wide open but seeing nothing. Every muscle in my body contracted for what felt like forever as the euphoria tore me to pieces.

Then I relaxed and fell limp. The fleeting bliss only lasted moments, and in its wake came the horror and guilt. It boiled up inside me, giving an ashen aftertaste to what had been so sweet and perfect just the moment before. I looked for Amelia, but her back was to me. She was looking back in that bag.

"One day, the princess had an idea. There was a prince visiting her, and she thought him not offensive. She asked him to lock her up just as had been done to her before. She thought that maybe she could relive and reclaim that moment for herself." When Amelia stood up she had more rope in her hands, and I whimpered. I had no experience with rope, or bondage of any kind, and it was impossible to mentally prepare myself. I was totally helpless. "This worked, however briefly, and brought the princess some happiness, but in doing so this prince was lost to her. He saw her differently, as less than she had been before, and the little princess was alone once more."

"Now the princess knew what she had to do, but she could not bind herself. She tried to ask for help, but none of the princely suitors who came after could help her. Some of them called her names or thought her too strange. Those that didn't refuse outright were too inept to match the razor's edge of danger that had permeated her very soul."

Amelia formed a loop in the rope and fitted it over my right breast, lifted it, and then dropped the orb so that the throbbing flesh held the rope in place. I watched silently, but secretly I was in awe. She slowly wound the rope around my breasts, taking incredible care. Making sure the rope was taught at all times, and making sure each loop touched the previous loop. It never pinched the skin, but it compressed and pressed inward more and more as the rope snaked back and forth and around. Sometimes she formed an infinity symbol, but other times simply wound it tightly. My breasts began to change shape as they vanished into the rough rope. She kept going until my tits were squeezed out away from my body.

I'd never seen anything like it. The rope and pressure caused my breasts to defy gravity. All of my precious breast flesh was reformed into two grotesque cylinders. My tits, that I would fight to keep, were distorted beyond recognition. Their wonderful natural teardrop shape was gone. The pressure was nauseating, and I whined into the sodden panties. The remaining exposed skin began to darken beneath the shine of the oil, as the blood was forced to the ends of my tits.

"In her desperation, the princess sought out a monster. A cold and distant creature. She asked him to bind her and he did." Sharp flicks of her fingernails against my nipples. There was no room for why; I was totally lost in the sensations. It was torture. The skin was so oversensitized that even gentle brushes were enough to send me writhing in delicious agony. The cascades of sensations was too much.

"For a time, happiness bloomed in the young princess, but monsters can never be trusted. For, true to their nature, they are self-serving beasts who only use princesses for their own pleasure."

The bulbous, swollen ends of my breasts went from pink to red to purple faster than I thought possible. The more she cinched them, the more sure I was that the they were going to explode from the pressure. My skin was burning as it stretched and the areola, the part of the skin that felt stretched the most, was so stimulated and alive with sharp, searing pain. And she knew it.

"In time her joy was turned against her, and made ugly. Dirty. The monster told her that she was dirty too, and how could it not be true if the only time she was happy was in those lowest, basest moments?"

It hurt so much.

"The monster told her that this was what she deserved, and I believed him."

It felt so good.

"The monster told me that that she was no good, and I believed him."

I was so turned on, and so out of my mind, that the rapidly approach of a second orgasm went completely unnoticed. Right up until the moment.

"He said I existed to please him, with no value of my own. That I would only get pleasure from his pleasure."

My world exploded in color and pain as my sister gently teased me. Just like that, just from Amelia playing with my engorged nipples and the surrounding skin of my distended breasts, the most powerful orgasm I'd ever had washed over my already defeated body. I had nothing left to stop it, and I didn't try to, and in that moment of pleasure I ground my cunt against the rope. Sheer, mindless rutting.

"And then she was happy... until it was over. Then it hurt."

I did not react when she ripped the tape off of my face; that was beyond me. The panties fell out of my slack, open mouth, and it took several seconds before it registered that the pathetic, mewling whimpers were coming from me. Amelia hovered over her open bag, scratching at her neck, and smiled as she turned toward me with a knife.

Even through the exhaustion, I knew to be scared. My heart tried to jump out of my mouth. I couldn't pull my eyes away from the shine of the curved steel blade. She held it like she knew what she was doing too. Like she wasn't afraid of it. I inched away, as much as I could, feeling every piece of rope pull that much tighter around me.

"Stand still," she said, firmly, as she dropped to her knees beside me.

I whined, a long, high pitched keen I barely muted by pressing my lips together tightly. No one could find us like that. She smiled at me, seeming to know I was keeping myself quiet on purpose. I couldn't bear her approval so I looked straight up, watching the branches sway, to try to distract myself. Every so often they parted completely, exposing the purple sky above.My God,I thought,it's night time.

A part of me cried out when she hooked her finger underneath the rope that sat nestled against my clitoris and tugged it to the side. It was so wet, slick with the creamy offering of my cunt. Most of me wanted it gone, but not all. The costume pulled tight around my hips for a moment and then slackened. Amelia's hands brushed the insides my thighs, but I couldn't see what she was doing.

The knife cut cleanly through the synthetic fibers right at the bottommost seam, and I felt the grip of the blade slide up my right hip. After a brief pause, up the left as well. The whole bottom section of the costume hung loose, with cuts between my legs and on both sides, and when I felt her cutting across the middle I could not contain my fear.

Her opened hand struck me across the left breast, and I bounced and hobbled and screamed and whimpered as I tried to work my way back to the one spot, right in the middle of where she'd bound me, where it wasn't all too tight.

"Stand still," she repeated, to which I nodded emphatically, and she resumed her cutting.

The cool night air washed over the freshly exposed skin of my mound and the lower part of my abs, cooling the sweat. I chanced a look down, moving only my eyes, and saw that she had the triangular front of the shorts laid out across her knee. The crotch area had turned from light blueto a much darker, sinister shade from so much moisture pouring out of me.

I was so focused on the color, and what it meant, that I barely noticed when Amelia reached behind me and cut loose the same section from behind.

That dark stain was mesmerizing. It was one thing to feel how wet I was, or to quiver with the orgasms that came with how the rope made me feel. Those weren't the shorts of a proud gymnast, or one who had any semblance of strength. Those were the shorts of a slut; someone who not only liked what was happening to them, but craved it.

They couldn't be mine, could they?

I winced and tried not to look as she moved my legs, spreading my thighs as much as she could. Some of the ropes had been removed, so there was a greater range of motion if only slightly. Two of her fingers probed me, pushing inside of me, and I groaned.

"Jesus," Amelia whispered. She cleared her throat and smirked. "I had no idea you were such a gusher, Shel."

"N-neither did-d I," I croaked, and it wasn't until I heard myself that I realized I was shaking so much.It's the anticipation, a little voice said,not the cold. I thoroughly pushed down that thought, but it was beyond me to stop quivering.

She looked up at me, holding my gaze, as she slowly began to push the front of my bottoms into my cunt. The fabric quickly soaked up the fluids, but she pushed on even as the drier fabric slid through the sensitive ring. The bottoms quickly backed up inside of me, spreading into a ball that grew, and swelled, and filled my cunt up little by agonizing little. A thumb's worth at a time.

I didn't think she'd ever stop pushing.

The sensation was so strange. It wasn't shaped like a dick, the only other thing that had ever been inside me. It was wider, but only on the inside behind the ring, and there was so much of it that it pressed on my walls in every direction like a bulging knot.

"This is gonna be a little harder," Amelia said, breaking a minute of silence.

I felt her fingers start pushing at my ass cheeks, and my legs immediately went stiff. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," I whimpered, clenching and squeezing. "No no no! No!" I tried to swing my hips away from her, for all the good it did.

She merely arched an eyebrow at me before delivering a thunderous slap to the purpled end of my left breast, and just like that my defenses crumbled. Protestations continued to pour from my lips, weak and pathetic, but my legs were spread to her. The fight was gone, and when she started pushing the blue fabric up into my anus I longed for the rope to grind against as a distraction. She had mercifully doused the fabric in some lube, to ease its passage, and it felt so good. All the little nerve endings in my rings tingled and sang as the coarse, synthetic fibers dragged by ever so slowly. It felt like she was using three or four fingers to push, stretching my asshole out, but when I looked down I could see her hand periodically. It was only one finger. My hips bucked in the air and Amelia smiled, but I tried to pretend that was just my tired legs giving out little by little.

I don't think she was fooled. I couldn't even fool myself.

The back side of the bottoms was a larger cut of fabric, and it gathered into a larger obstruction. My hips felt swollen and stuffed, achingly so, and no amount of wiggling or shifting moved them into a more comfortable position and not for lack of trying. My abdomen felt full; my slight frame wasn't meant to hold that much. I could barely see around my cylindrical tits, but I was sure that my stomach was bulging. Then I realised the pressure that was driving my pleasure upwards wasn't just from the material. The twin insertions were reducing the space my bladder would have had, and the growing need to empty myself was becoming very, very problematic. I gritted my teeth.

If I was to cum again, and it was more than likely that I would, I would also have to control my bladder. I couldn't risk humiliate myself by losing control in front of Amelia. She would lose whatever respect she had left for me, if she'd had any to begin with.

She stood up next to me, her face just beside mine, and planted one hand on the tree behind me while the other reached down to toy with my clit. The pad of her fingertip was such a strange contrast to the rope; purposeful and gentle, where the rope was blunt and coarse. My hips betrayed me, grinding obscenely into her touch.

It wasn't abuse. It was gentle, almost sensual, and the contrast was giving me whiplash. Why would she do that? Everything that had come before had been meant to torture me, to get the revenge she so needed for what I'd done to her, but that? That caress? It felt so good and she had to know it too. Why was she giving me that pleasure? There was something else in Amelia's expression. That same flash that I'd seen twice earlier. I still didn't know what it meant, but it couldn't be a coincidence.

"I wish I could see inside your head right now," she said softly, though her voice contained none of the malice in her eyes. "I'd want to know which part of this is working for you the most right now."

I shook my head and tried to close my eyes to hide from the hate in her expression. That left only the sensuousness in her voice. If the hate were gone then I could take this to another place, but the second I did she slapped my right breast more viciously than ever before. I screamed out. My breasts were already so inflamed, so aching and sensitive. It felt like a bomb had gone off inside them. I had to look down and make sure it hadn't exploded with the pressure. My nipples throbbed, pulsing as my heart tried to push blood through the restricted, deformed flesh.

"Look at me," she commanded.

I did as she ordered and I couldn't stop myself from weeping, with tears streaking down my cheek. It was all too much to process. I was scared, but as soon as I tried to meet her gaze the sweet touch of her fingers returned. In the back of my mind, I fought that new fear. I had to concentrate all the way through the orgasm and hold myself. I had to hold, and I repeated it in my head like a mantra, but the fear began to build right alongside my third orgasm. A building pressure that I knew I would not be able to hold back forever.

"There's so many things going on right now, huh? I mean, the bondage alone would be enough to getme off." She bit her lip and smiled while her finger continued to swirl hypnotically around my clitoris. "The ropes, and that trapped feeling? It's almost freeing in a way, right? When you finally give in and let it happen... because you realise there is nothing you can do? Nothing will change what is happening so you can stop worrying about it, and that release sets you free. You don't need to hide or pretend to be anyone else. It's a pure moment."

Her eyes rolled back behind the lids, just for a moment, and my body wanted to collapse right along with her. I shook my head, but on the inside her words were giving life to feelings I hadn't understood.

"Or maybe it's what I've done to your tits? Are you loving how it feels to have them bound so tightly, all swollen and purple? Are you scared this is how they'll stay? Is that turning you on too? Sometimes I wonder how much you're even aware of them, but they have your attention now, don't they?"

"And of course there's all the little, tactile things. All the thesqueezing and thetouching, and the wetness. God, with how wet you were? And are? Ugh, and the smell of you." She leaned very close, to where the stray hairs at the side of her face were brushing against my eyelashes, and sniffed at my neck. "How could you not be turned on with all this happening to you?"

Her finger moved around and around, and soon my head began to weave in time with it. Around, and around, and around. Faster around the bottom, and slower around the top. She licked her lips and smiled, as she hovered there in the corner of my eye, and played with me even more intently.

"Let's not forget the guilt," she said sweetly. "That is, after all, what got us here in the first place. That awful, nagging pit in your gut that thinks this is all your fault. Because it is... and you know it." Then she leaned in close, again, and whispered, "and you deserve it."

My mouth was painfully dry, but no amount of wetness would have made that easy to swallow. Instead I wheezed and continued to shake my head while pressing my hips towards her and grinding harder and harder against her finger.

"All of those things might have gotten you started, but if you ask me? The one that's really doing the driving now? It's the shame. The awful, rotten-to-the-core shame of getting off on any of this in the first place." Her lips curled in a sneer, and she craned her head so that I could not escape the sight of them no matter how I moved. "Ever since that first domino started to tip over, I think all your biggest reactions have been to the idea of beinghumiliated."

She cocked her head lower, and looked up into my tear-filled eyes. I couldn't look away. I was too scared. I didn't want her to hit my distorted tits again, so I looked straight into her eyes as those words hammered home the awful truth. A truth that had been dormant within me before, and a part of that I'd never suspected was there.

"That's the one, isn't it? The humiliation."

"No," I whimpered.

"Liar."

Suddenly her fingers started moving faster, and faster. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to distract myself with pain. I shook my head to deny it. I prayed. In the end, there was no escaping the looming pressure. It raced, humming in time with the electricity that crackled through my skin. Inescapable.

"Yeah, that's definitely the one. It's not the one I was hoping for, but that's the big one." After the longest heartbeat of my life, she added, with a smile, "I was hoping it would be because I'm your sister."

I came at that. Amelia ran the tip of her tongue along my cheek, just past the edge of my eye, but it had already started. Those words echoed around my head.I'm your sister. I'm your sister. My sister's tongue on my cheek, my sister's finger against my cunt, my sister's ropes tying me. My little sister had punished and humiliated me and shown me how much I adored it.I came again, harder than I had all night. Black spots danced in my vision as the spectacular ecstasy of contractions and spasms took hold. My body quaked, and the aftershocks felt endless. Her finger continued to swirl and tease, but the rope was back in place long before I could see straight. As the orgasm faded I remembered the pressure. The building pressure, my bulging stomach, and my full bladder. I'd held on through the beginning of the orgasm, but now it it was all I could think about and that made it so much worse. I could hold on no longer.

The haze was so thick, with my brain stewing in hormones, oxytocin, and dopamine, but I still knew I couldn't let her see me. I had to distract her if only for a minute. That's all I would need. The pressure was beyond me to stop.