My Sister's room

Prologue

A three-part story, about a young man and the Dominant women in his life. I first submitted this story to Literotica in 2017. This is part One, I hope you enjoy it.

My Sisters room

In the far corner of our yard, tucked away behind a row of English hedges and a few thick evergreen trees, stands our old wooden work shed where years ago my grandfather pursued his vocation repairing and making furniture. His oaken workbench with a vintage woodworking vice is still bolted to the floor. On each of the bench's four square legs, shiny new steel O-rings have recently been fastened.

My name is Elliot. I'm twenty-four years old, and on this cold January afternoon, I'm stretched naked across the workbench. My wrists are tied fast to the O-rings while my ankles are well secured to the other O-rings. A pillow under my stomach keeps me comfortable and my behind raised, and although I can't see them, I know the cheeks of my behind are already well striped with red welts. My testicles are held securely, squeezed tight in the wooden vice to prevent me from moving to avoid her whip.

In the far corner of the shed, my Grandfather's old wood-fired pot belly stove is glowing red, the same corner where my older sister Tatiana sits naked sipping a cup of tea.

My being taken to our shed for punishment started two years ago, just after my sister Tatiana returned home from Europe to live with us. I was twenty-two at the time and lived at home with our Stepmother Lorraine and her sister Aunt Lisa. Lorraine and Aunt Lisa were attractive older women, both widows in their sixties, and fortunately for me, they were wealthy and very liberal in subsidizing all of my financial needs.

My sister Tatiana left home at the age of eighteen, the day after I was born. Her leaving home and moving to Europe had nothing to do with my birth, nor was she fleeing any problems at home. She went to Germany to study medicine.

While growing up I did on occasion see Tatiana as she visited us a few times over the years but because of the prolonged absences and almost twenty years difference in our ages, no firm brother-sister relationship ever developed between us.

The four of us now live in the house where I was born, one of the older large two-story homes in a quiet section of Wittsburg, a small town in New Jersey. The house had been in our family for many years and was, like most older homes, not designed for today's lifestyle. The only bathroom we had was on the second floor next to my bedroom and what we called the third floor, was an attic converted into a couple of small bedrooms, one of which was the bedroom Tatiana moved into when she returned.

I had mixed feelings the day my Stepmom told me Tatiana would be coming home to live with us. Of course, I'd be glad to see more of my sister, but in the back of my mind, I wondered if she might take over our household and make some changes that would not be in my best interest.

Any trepidations I may have had about my older sister moving back with us quickly faded when the taxi pulled up and she stepped out. Tatiana was not the woman I expected or remembered. She was a mature woman with an athletic shape and a military posture, almost West Point rigid. She had an attractive face with deep-set dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a strong chin. When I say mature, it wasn't so much in years, it was in her demeanor. Tatiana carried herself with a confident assertive gait that demanded respect.

My sister was taller than I remembered, close to six feet tall in the stiletto heels she wore. The top of her white silk peasant blouse was open enough to expose more of her large breasts than I was accustomed to seeing in our small town. The soft round cheeks of her behind were well enhanced by the skin-tight tan leather jeans she wore. Tatiana's long black hair was tied off in a ponytail, while what seemed to me as too much dark eyeshadow along with her sexy pouting lips gave her a sultry look.

As she stepped up to the curb, dragging her suitcase behind, the remaining two buttons of her blouse failed to hold and her blouse spread open to her navel. A heavy bare breast swayed free and for a moment a dark brown nipple peeked out, staring at me, burning a memory into my mind that to this day saliva drips from my lips when I think of it.

Tatiana's dark sparkling eyes darted from one of us to the other but lingered on mine longer than I expected or even hoped for. Taller than I am, her arms went easily around my neck, holding me in a stranger's intimate embrace. The taste of her mouth on mine gave me sexual thoughts about my sister that surprised me. I could smell the odor of cigarettes on her breath as her tongue brushed my lips speaking words into my mouth. "Elliot you've grown up," she said in a whisper that only I could have heard. My hands slid from her waist to touch her behind, as I pulled her body tight against me. "Umm, you're a man now," she smiled, "and a handsome one too," she whispered as she turned her mouth to the others.

Tatiana had only been home with us for a week when I heard excited voices coming from our kitchen. When I edged close to the stairway I could see my Stepmom, Aunt Lisa, and Tatiana were all huddled together at the kitchen table, their bodies touching as they talked, their hands adjusting a blouse, smoothing a hair in place, their mouth's so close as they spoke and laughed. I overheard a trip was planned. They talked about a train ride to the city, shopping all day, dinner there, then back home late at night.

Early the next morning I woke when I heard voices outside, then the constant chatter from the three ladies faded and was soon replaced by the solid sound of car doors slamming. I quickly stood up and approached the window, hidden behind the curtains, I peeked out just in time to see the roof of my Stepmom's car as it drove away.

The house was still, not a sound, they were gone for the day. There was no need for me to hurry, the house was mine and I knew what I wanted to do. I slid my dresser away from the wall and found the magazine that I kept hidden there, then walked downstairs naked.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs listening, then quickly looked around to make sure they were gone. I slid past the kitchen window and stepped out onto our front porch locking the outside door, and even sliding the deadbolt closed. I thought please, no surprise visits, 'Oh we're home, we're sorry we forgot our money,' sort of thing.

After pouring myself a cup of coffee, I sat naked at the kitchen table planning my day. Most of all I wanted to explore Tatiana's bedroom, go through her panties drawer, and of course, masturbate in my sister's bedroom.

I took my time going through my magazine, choosing the page with my favorite pictures. I liked the picture of a heavy-set older Latin woman, maybe as old as fifty. She had dark olive skin but with the stark contrast of milky white breasts. She wore black sheer thigh high stockings held up by a garter belt, but no panties. The woman wore too much makeup that made her look cheap, like a street whore.

She had been posed sitting naked with her legs apart, her hairy cunt gaping at me. She had cold dark eyes and my favorite, heavy pendulous breasts with thick black nipples and pimpled areola that covered half of her breasts. She held a riding crop in her hand and looked angry, as though she wanted to punish men, and I liked that. I knew the older woman's cunt would smell strong, ripe with sweat and cum. I was sure she had just been fucked; all of the women in my fantasies were always well fucked. I was so close to cumming, I knew if I looked at the pictures too long, I wouldn't be able to resist jerking off and I wanted to save that for Tatiana's bedroom.

I gathered some paper towels and my magazine and started up the stairs to my sister's bedroom. At the top of the stairs, I was worried her door may be locked, but when I touched it, it swung open with no effort.

The air in her room was thick with the smell of her, a heady mix of perfume and the earthy smell of a woman's body. I stood there without moving, savoring the moment. My hands were shaking. I felt a shiver of sexual pleasure just being there naked, in her bedroom. My cock could have erupted in an instant.

Her room was smaller than I remembered, just half the size of my room. The faded wallpaper, peeling off in places, had a whimsical pattern of bunnies dancing around flowers. Several cardboard boxes overflowing with clothing were piled in one corner, while the only closet in the room had no door, and was so packed that some of Tatiana's dresses and shoes had spilled out onto the floor.

A well-worn rug covered the floor, and in one corner stood an old five-drawer dresser. Among her things atop the dresser was a framed black and white photograph of a much younger Tatiana in a bikini, seated with an older gray-haired man. Her hand was resting on his thigh, and their cheeks were touching. It made me wonder if she was fucking him.

Her bed was unmade, the sheets were just thrown back showing a clear impression of where she had slept. I knelt putting my face on the bed where she had lain, smoothing the sheets, I put my cheek against them, smelling for just the slightest odor of her cunt.

On the floor by the bed lay her clothing from the night before. As Mom always said, Tatiana was a messy girl, even now over forty, her pullover, the long leather skirt she had worn for the last three days, and her black panties and bra lay there just as she had undressed and dropped them.

I knelt down and put my face against her panties, smelling them. "Please, let me lick you," I whispered aloud, as though she was there watching me.

I imagined her telling me, 'Yes Elliot, lick my cunt.' I buried my nose into the crotch of the panties. The smell of her was harsh, heavy, cunt like, so delicious, I felt as though I had inhaled a powerful aphrodisiac. I rubbed my tongue on the veneer of the hardened cunt syrup, tasting the nectar that had oozed from inside her.

I picked up her panties and held them to my face, covering my nose and mouth, inhaling the pungent odor. I felt myself drift into a euphoric stupor, my tongue tasting the precious flavor of a woman. In my mind, my sister was looking at me, on my knees, naked in front of her. She looked stern, like the woman in my magazine. She held a riding crop in her hand and I knew she was going to punish me for touching my penis. I imagined, Tatiana would lift her leather skirt to show me her bare cunt, "Look at it Elliot!" she demanded. She was rubbing herself, using her finger, and talking to me in a guttural tone. "Now lick my cunt!" she said.

In my fantasy, my face was pressed between her legs, licking her, tasting her as she dropped the heavy skirt over me, cloaking me in the darkness. I was so excited, with my eyes closed, my cock was throbbing, so close to cumming. In my mind I was smelling her, lifting my chin as though trying to put my tongue inside of her.

I was licking the air when a voice startled me. I thought I heard someone say, "What are you doing?" But that wasn't possible and then I felt a hand touch my shoulder.

When I opened my eyes, I felt a tremor of pure terror go through my body. I knew it wasn't possible, but Tatiana was standing there looking down at me. She was wearing a short satin robe tied loosely at the waist with her dark hair pinned on top of her head as though she was preparing for a bath. She was still wearing heavy makeup from the night before, her eyelids touched with dark shadows, lined and shaded with a light brown tint, not looking sexy, but garish maybe even vulgar. Her makeup reminded me of the woman in my magazine.

I could see her dark eyes widen as she realized I was naked. "Why are you in my Room Elliot?" she asked with a quizzical tone, glaring down at me, her face reddened. "You're naked," she screamed, "and jerking off with my panties!" she gasped, putting her hands to her head. Oh God, Lorraine will hear about this!"

My mind was racing, looking for an excuse. I was shaking my head trying to say no, but my mouth was so dry I couldn't speak. I was mouthing words but nothing was coming out. I finally gasped out a weak whisper, "Oh no, you can't tell Mom."

Glowering at me, she bent down, putting her face close to mine. "Oh yes!" she said, shaking her finger in my face, "I'm going to tell Mom and Tante Lisa. I think they should know what a filthy young man you are!" she screamed in my face.

Tatiana hesitated with a smile, then biting her lower lip, she nodded, "I wonder when I tell Lorraine I caught you, on your knees jerking off, licking my panties, if she might think about her own panties, or even Tante Lisa's. Now that's a thought, isn't it Elliot? Have you been crawling into your stepmother's bedroom to lick her soiled panties?"

I shook my head no, but I sat there cringing like a child caught stealing candy, too embarrassed to look at her.

My sister gave me a condescending smile, smirking. "Oh yes you have. I can see it in your face you little pervert!"

My Stepmom would be so angry with me. How could I ever face her or Aunt Liza if they knew I was licking my sister's panties or for that matter their own panties? I was desperate, if Tatiana told Mom, she would make me move out. I didn't have a job, or a car and all of my spending money was coming from my Stepmom and Aunt Lisa.

"Tati, you can't do that to me. Please don't," I begged her with tears in my eyes.

"I don't want Mom to know about this. I'll do anything you want." I offered

"Elliot, I should slap your face!" she screamed at me.

"Yes! Please yes! Do that." I said, shaking my head vigorously. I lifted my face up to her. "Tatiana, yes, you can slap me." I reached out and grabbed her hand, pressing it to my cheek like a slap, then kissing it. "Slap me good Tati. Do anything you want, but please don't tell Mom." I begged.

Her chest was heaving, and for a long minute, she just stood there looking down at me. She sighed, then shook her head frowning at me, "Yes I'd like to beat you and you deserve it too," she said glaring at me, then laughed. "Do you know how silly you look there on your knees, naked with my panties?" she scoffed. "Damn it, Elliot!" She reached down taking my ear in her hand and twisting it hard, "You should have known better," she said, her voice sounding like that of a parent.

"Please! Yes, you can beat me. You can do whatever you want to me. Anything!"

"Oh, I'd liked that," she nodded, stepping away from me, fanning her face, ignoring me for the moment. "It's stifling in here."

I watched her as she wiped droplets of sweat from her forehead and then looked at her hand. I could see small rivulets of sweat running down her chest between the swell of her breasts. She walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside then opened it. Standing in front of the window, she opened her robe wide, fanning the material back and forth to cool herself. Without a hint of modesty, she turned to face me with her robe hanging open. I could see much of the soft roundness of her breasts, her navel, and the crease of her vagina between her legs, but not her nipples.

She walked over to where her clothing lay on the floor and without looking at me, she laughed, then nodded toward the panties still in my hand, "You can have those if you want," she said as she folded her skirt and blouse. She carefully laid them on the small bench at the foot of her bed.

It was obvious to her that I couldn't take my eyes away from between her legs. She knew I was staring at her cunt but she made no attempt to cover herself. Without looking at me she said, "I forget how uptight you Americans are about nudity."

I watched as she pushed the cover aside and sat on the bed, her legs crossed. Her robe opened enough so that her breasts hung free with her nipples exposed. For a long moment, she looked at me as though she was undecided then picked up my magazine.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," she said. "I'm not going to talk to Mom about this, finding you in my room jerking off," she added, giving me a little mock frown. "Don't worry about that.

She tilted her head, "Elliot, our parents are dead, and you're my brother. You're my only real family and I love you," she sighed. She gave me a little smile, "and," she hesitated, "I should have known something like this could happen."

She glanced down at my porn magazine, then looked at me. "Let's just forget this," she said. "You can walk out of here right now, and I won't ever bring it up. I'm not angry with you."

She used her hand to brush her hair back from her face and made eye contact with me, a little smile on her face, "So you did something stupid like men sometimes do," she smiled, shaking her head. "We can go on like brother and sister, just as if this never happened." She nodded, waiting. "But I'm not sure that's what you want," she said, then tilted her head as though coaching me to reply.

When I didn't move or answer her, she shook her head, frowned, and then shrugged. She turned her head back to the magazine and didn't speak. I watched her as she glanced through the pages, taking her time, making little sounds as she looked at the pictures. Now and then she would stop, purse her lips, and shake her head as if she was offended by my magazine.

After a few minutes, she held the magazine open to show me. It was the page where the Latin woman, naked and wet with sweat was holding a riding crop in her hand. She was standing over a naked older man. His wrists were bound tight and pulled up behind him. The man's bruised testicles were stretched tight in a leather leash, and his back and behind were well striped with bright red welts. She looked at me with a quizzical expression. "Is this something that interests you?" she asked, her tone accusing, as though she were a school teacher confronting a misbehaving student.

She waited for a moment, watching my face turning red, well aware of how much she was embarrassing me. "You know she didn't kidnap this man. He could have left whenever he wanted to," she said. She tilted her head, smiling as though she was making fun of me. "You realize he's there because he wants to be whipped by this woman!"

Tatiana then raised her eyebrows and looked at me with a quizzical expression, "You did hear what I said Elliot, about leaving my bedroom, didn't you?" she asked, waiting, her tone a bit harsh.

She raised her chin, with a stern expression, her dark eyes locked on mine. Her tone of voice hardened, "So since you didn't leave, what should I think?" she asked.

When I didn't answer, she put the magazine down in her lap and sat up straight. Her eyes held mine and her tone changed. "Do you want to be whipped by a woman Elliot?" she asked in a very direct tone, then added, "Is that why you're still in my room?" She looked at me and smiled. Her tone of voice changed. "Have you ever been whipped by a naked woman?" she asked.

]

I felt the blood fill my face, and I knew she could see how embarrassed I was. I quickly shook my head no.

"No?" she laughed a little, then shook her head, "or no, you haven't been whipped, but you want to be."

Without looking up, I shook my head, "No Tatiana," I said, then added in a sharper tone, "of course not!" I felt a twinge of pleasure go through me from her words and yes I had fantasized about that, I had even thought of looking for a woman who I could pay to do that to me, but I didn't know how to find someone. I wanted to tell her the truth, how much I wanted that, but there was no way I could bring myself to say those words to her.

"No?" she said, asking with a deep sarcastic laugh, "Of course, you do. Why else would you have this magazine?" she asked, in an accusing tone of voice. She slipped the robe off her shoulders then stood up naked and stepped over to where I was, standing so close her knee was pressed against my shoulder. Her smooth-shaven cunt was just inches from my face. "Tell me, how often have you jerked off to that picture?" she asked.