Revenge is Golden Ch. 01

Don't ever get your sister pissed off. Especially if she's a nurse!

It all happened because of a silly bet we made, and that's a long story, but it started very lightly. She and I were home for the summer; I had just started university, was a cocky freshman and she was about to graduate in nursing. Was she proud of herself. Like there was nothing she couldn't handle. On the surface she seemed completely 'no nonsense'; she's pretty, I guess (you don't think of sisters as bombshells), well proportioned; very compact little ass that guys always seem drawn to. She's brunette, about 5'5'', and, in these years, acted a bit reserved, as if she had everything under control. Not like in high school: She'd been a rowdy; didn't take shit from anyone. And did she give most of the boys a hard time: "You guys' only brain is in the little head below your belt," she'd say. One time, when she was in the twelfth grade and just past eighteen, this guy actually grabbed her ass, while she was walking down the hall. She turned and smiled sweetly.

"Want some pussy?" she said. He couldn't believe his ears. Then she walks up to him, unzips his fly, and takes out his cock. Well, the students are stopping and the ones farther away are craning their necks. She strokes his cock just a couple times and it's standing at attention, out there in the breeze. A teacher is making her way through the crowd, and Sis sees her coming. When she's just there, Sis says, "Bye" and slips into the crowd. The guy's standing there dazed, and the teacher just freaks out, and busts his ass.

Back to the bet. We were watching this movie on TV. Three of us. Lara, her girlfriend was over. A skinny blonde, about 5' 8'' who had the stuff to look nice if she paid any attention to her looks. Her chest was a bit bony for my taste, but she had these pert little cupcake breasts. She'd known my sister slightly, in high school, but now she was a biology major and hung out her in the labs; looked like a science student. Steel-rimmed glasses, medium length dirty blonde hair hastily gathered up and tied at the back.

The movie was kind of stupid, 'baby blue,' and the stud next door got it on with this young wife; it showed them screwing, and afterwards she was like, all dozy, wiped out; could hardly move, and Mr Stud just pulls up his pants, says goodbye and is out the door.

Sis says, "What bullshit!"

"What do you mean?" I say.

"_He'd_ be the one who'd be wiped out," she says. "Not her."

"And why is that?"

"A woman can handle a man so easily; even two of three, without breaking into a sweat," she says. "The guys just do their thing and fade out in a hurry. Limp."

I wasn't too experienced then and really believed I could go all night; like my friends, who liked to brag, after a date with someone, that she couldn't walk the next day. Casually, I said, "No way. Three guys could totally wipe out a girl! She wouldn't be able to move."

Lara was watching the exchange. When I looked at her, she said, "Your sister's right you know," patting Sis on the thigh.

"Let's hear a bit more science facts," says Sis.

"Well, the male sea horse, after sex, is completely absorbed into the body of the female." Lara says cryptically. "Men can be such wimps."

Well, that's how the bet came about, whether Sis could exhaust three guys, "no problem."

"Macho dude, here, is going lose," says Lara to Sis, "I'd bet on you any day ... but with friends like your bro's got, you'd better use condoms."

The bet was settled then: that Sis could handle three guys of my choosing with 'no problem,' and leave them totally exhausted. We actually wrote it down (Our father was a lawyer, and he always told us, "Write it down kids, so there'll be no arguments"): "Sister will meet with three men of brother's choosing; they are to perform any sexual acts, desired by either 'side' and see who reaches exhaustion first. But the three men will use only their own bodies. They'll wear condoms for any intercourse."

There was also a guarantee, which she asked for. It said, "Brother, since he will explain the rules to his friends and get their agreement, guarantees, under punishment selected by Sister, that the rules will be kept. But the punishment must not cause serious bodily harm."

I chose Garth, my best friend and a football player, and two others. Well, they met, and I'll tell the full story another time--or maybe she will -- but let's say that Garth fucked up, big time, though I hadn't realized the consequences, when I first heard from her.

"Brother, I'm going to kill you!" she announced, barging into my room the next day. The details are another story, but she said she was winning, totally tiring them out; they were, after screwing her, having trouble getting it up. She starts sucking off two of them, to finish them off, administer the _coup de grace._ But then Garth pulls out this big dildo. He uses it on her. She just freaks; her body became their plaything for the next hour.

I didn't take it too seriously. "Lost the bet, eh?" I was smiling.

She gets this very intense look and says, "Not at all. Not fairly," and she reminds me what Garth did. The dildo and a couple other things. "You're really going to pay," she says. I'd forgotten that part.

"You're in for some heavy-duty punishment. You'll be pleading for mercy, just like I was with those idiots. You will find out what it's like to be begging." But I was real smart-aleck, I reminded her about the part, that the punishment was not to cause 'bodily harm.'

"What does that mean, then?" she asks. Cagey. She's thinking.

"Well, you mustn't really injure me."

"And what exactly am I not supposed to do?"

"Well," I said jokingly, "You must not, like, flog me, brand me."

"Anything else I can't do?" She inquires.

I'm beginning to get worried, and try to come up with a list, fast. I add, "OK, I mustn't be whipped or burned. I mustn't be deprived of air. My body must not be crushed, pierced, wounded or maimed."

She's thinking. After a few moments she says lightly, "OK, brother, your body won't be damaged. Anything else?" I remember the dildo. "Also you're not to shove any dildo or other objects up my ass."

"Is that all?" she says.

"All I can think of."

"OK, it's a deal. I'll write it down, as before." She wrote up a page that said at the top, "Brother's punishment for Garth's use of the dildo." Below, it said that punishment will take place as follows and according to sister's wishes, but there will be no harm to brother's body through any of the following, and then she added my list of things--whipping, cutting, etc. She shows it to me and I say, "Fine, agreed." She has this intent look in her eye. Though she's a bit cooled, I see her anger is still there.

"You _are_ going to pay, you know," she repeats. But I'm feeling pretty safe.

"Report to the training wing C of the City Hospital, room 7-915, tonight at 8 PM" she says, sharply. "OK."

---

I know where the hospital is, but not the location of the room; I decide I'd better come a half hour early. It's huge and I have to find my way through the complex, through the clean disinfectant-smelling corridors in an old wing. There are very few people around and I don't want to ask for help since I'm worried they'll say, 'What are you doing here at this hour?' Finally, I catch sight of the room number on the upper, frosted-glass part of a door, and I'm about to knock, when I see a tiny broken spot at the edge of the glass. Hearing sounds, I peer through, remaining absolutely quiet. The scene made me catch my breath; instant hard-on. Sis was lying on a kind of table, her nursing uniform, a white dress, all unbuttoned down the front, and her bra pushed up. Lara, facing partly towards me, was straddling her face, head thrown back; perky little tits being fondled by my Sis. Lara's jeans were in a heap on the floor. I'm no 'peeping Tom,' but I just couldn't move. I'm not going to get into that story now, but it was twenty minutes before they satisfied each other and began to untangle themselves, and I watched them do things I'd barely read of. My cock was oozing, and there was a wet spot in the front of my pants. Then I see it's eight o'clock, and I can't delay. After backing quietly away from the door, I walk loudly towards it and knock as if I'd just arrived.

There's sudden silence, a delay. I hear walking about and a little quick whispering. "Come in." It's my sister's voice.

I enter. She's standing there, fiddling with the top button of her starched white uniform. Lara's got her jeans on, more or less, and is picking up her purse and heading past me, coming toward the door. "Hi," she says, slipping past, "and good luck!" Sis's uniform is just the slightest bit mussed, but it almost sparkles, and it's all pressed and pretty crisp, considering. Her dark hair pulled back from her face; strictly business. I can't help but notice how her breasts are framed. The dress is tight on her ass. "Lara was just helping me set up," she says, trying to sound casual. She notices the spot on my pants but doesn't figure it out.

"You've gotten a bit excited about this?" she asks lightly.

There's the table, a bit like an operating table. It has poles beside it, with hooks. I notice there are restraints at the sides. The room is very clean, with tan tiles on the walls; I see a door ajar on the other side, leading to a tiny bathroom. "I'll leave for a moment," she says professionally. "Undress and lie on the table. Fasten the restraints on either side, to your ankles." She steps into the hall.

I'm starting to get very nervous. But a little excited. I toss off my clothes, and get up on the table. The plastic cover is cold on my bum. Fastening the straps to my ankles, I notice how my legs will be held apart. I'm thinking, "Well she can't crush my balls or rape my ass, so what's to worry." I feel my cock harden a little bit; don't know if it's fear or excitement. I'm embarrassed.

She comes in and barely glances at my cock. "Lie down," she orders me. She tightens the ankle restraints and fastens the wrist ones; I feel a light pressure as she cinches a strap across the top of my chest.

She pulls out a gag. "Will we be needing this?" she asks. I shake my head. "Then you agree not to make any loud noises? There's hardly a soul left in this area, anyway." "Yes."

"Well, are we going ahead with your punishment? You must give your agreement to go ahead," she says. "Yes; a promise is a promise. But, hey, I want you to know I'm really sorry for what the guys did. Especially Garth. I know he humiliated you." I'm trying to show sympathy.

"Never mind that; you don't know!" she says, starting to get angry, again,"but you will learn."

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out this long rubber tube. My jaw drops. "What is it?" I inquire.

"A catheter, brother." She puts on gloves, very nurse-like. She opens a cupboard and takes out a container, a jar with a wide mouth and puts it on the floor. She fastens one end of the tube in the mouth of the jar. She lubes the other end of the rubber tube and then takes my half swollen cock into her hands. I feel the cool latex, and get harder. She looks at me. "Excited, Bro?" she jokes. "Well, we'll see about that."

Holding up my cock, the head of it firmly between her fingers, she begins to insert the tube. It's cold and a weird feeling. There's a little pain, but I'm getting hard and it's not so bad at first. I see the tube slowly disappearing into me a couple more inches; it's hurting. "Ouch!" I yelp.

"It's almost there," she says, and continues. I feel the whole length of the tubing, then like I need to pee. Next, a kind of relief. My cock shrinks all of a sudden. "There," she says and expertly tapes the tube in place. She looks at the jar on the floor, and so do I. It's filling with amber liquid. I feel my bladder emptying, and it's not in my control. "See, you don't have to worry, brother." she says, smiling. Though I can't tell what's behind her words, I relax a little.

But now she begins making other arrangements. From the cupboard she takes a container bag, open at the top. It has a valve on the bottom, and it can be hung from a hook, which is what she does. I don't remember the details but she finds another hose and fits one end onto the valve; the other end fits into some kind of connecting piece, feeding into the first tube as it emerges from my cock. I see she can now drain the container into me, through the catheter, just as well as she can drain out of me.

She takes bottles marked "Saline solution, 3%" from the cupboard and, after shutting the valve of the container, empties two of them into it. They are each labeled ".5 liter". My face must have shown that I was getting an idea about her plan.

"Wondering?" she inquires.

Damn right I am. My voice is a little shaky, "What's all this?" "It's equipment for irrigating the bladder; a common procedure. The first step is to get all the pee out of you; I don't see anything more running into the jar."

"Yes, right," I answer nervously.

She clips off the part of the tube leading to the jar, which is now partly full, maybe half a liter. "We'll proceed with the irrigation, OK?" she asks.

"But there's one little thing, first."

She picks the jar.

"Time for a drink." She announces. I'm totally surprised.

Her eyes are almost glittering, hard. I'm just about falling through the table.

"What!"

"I'll put an extra pillow under your head, and hold this to your lips." She fixes the pillow and brings the jar closer. I smell the pee. I feel the rim of the jar, on my lips. I turn away. "No way you're going to make me do that!"

"Degrading, isn't it?" A kind of false brightness in her voice. "Do you refuse?"

"You can't make me drink that. I didn't promise to cooperate during the punishment."

"You're right." She replies. "So we'll just see." She reaches over to the hanging container with the saline and opens the valve. It's the oddest sensation. It's a little cool, and my bladder is filling. She watches the level intently. "How are we doing?" She says. She's playing nurse. Soon, I see it's nearing half drained and there's a definite, not unpleasant fullness in my bladder.

"Doing OK?" she says. She touches just above my bladder. "Hmmm, filling up. More than half a liter." I'm getting pretty full, now. I look at her. She's watching the level and it's now down about two-thirds. She touches me again, presses lightly, and I just have to pee. A couple drops come out around the tube. "Can't have that," she says and tapes the tip more tightly.

"OK, I say," trying not to sound concerned. "I guess you can open the drain and finish your irrigation." I'm embarrassed enough.

"No." she says, evenly. "I'm not opening the drain till you've felt everything I did." It's really starting to hurt as the bag empties, and we approach one liter. I'm sweating. I can't pee. The pressure just keeps building and building. My lower abdomen swelling and she sees it. "Almost full, I think." I nod vigorously. "Just a little more in the bag," she adds.

God it's hurting. She looks at me questioningly. "Are you ready to drink that jar?" she says. "No." My voice is quavering. I can hardly bear it. She says, "You know a bladder can hold just about one liter without serious discomfort. We're there. I'll let you enjoy it."

I can't think of anything but the pain; I feel ready to burst. She shuts the valve from the hanging container. "Take a few minutes. Live with this for a while," she says. She heads for the bathroom and I hear her pee. She comes back. Looks at her nails, but keeps an eye on me, watching me squirm. Then casually offers me the jar again. That piss smell just makes me almost gag.

"I can't!" My panic must have started to show.

"Well, you're going to take it, one way or the other," she responds. "Are you sure you won't drink this?"

She's angry, "I had to drink your bastard friends' cum, didn't I?" She says. She looks totally disgusted. "I wasn't planning to, but that asshole Garth was just reaming me out. Said he would not stop if I didn't swallow." I had a sinking feeling of what I was up against.

"You _will drink," she says, just stone cold. "Why don't we add another have half liter saline, and see how you're feeling?"

"Oh my God, no" My response is instant. She takes a third bottle and pours into the container. Watching me intently, she opens the valve. It's just killing me, now. I try to empty myself, and the flow almost stops. She notices, walk over to the pole holding the bag; she adjusts the screw and raises up the pole another foot. I start to moan, twist in the restraints. The higher pressure builds, and now there's nothing I can do. "Just open the drain, please?" I'm begging. "This is enough."

"I decide that," she says. It's like a knife stuck in my lower abdomen. I see the half liter more has almost entered me, one and a half liters in all. She shut the valve. She pressed just lightly on my abdomen. "Quite full, I'd say." She playfully pressed it just a little with two fingers. I startled, yanking at the restraints. It was like the twist of a knife. I began to black out, and she must have seen it. "How are you feeling?" she says brightly.

I'm half conscious, twisting there on the table. My eyes are half closed. I hear her walk away, and return. Then I feel a cold cloth on my face. "Don't disappear on me, Bro," she says. Tender.

"Are you getting past your attitude?" she asks. I nod my head. "Sis, I beg you." I'm really pleading. She moves the jar to my lips again. "Then drink, brother," she says gently. "Don't suffer any more." She tilts the jar, and I can't help it, I let just the tiniest amount into my mouth. It's bitter and I close my lips. She steps back and gets that hard look again.

"Well, I could just empty this jar into the upper container here, you know." Holy shit. The jar has more than half liter of my pee in it, and I'm splitting in agony after the last bottle. My resistance is evaporating. Looking at her, I'm terrified at her strength.

"No!"

"Well, let's see," she says. She pours half of the jar into the upper container and opens the valve again. I'm being torn open. I gasp. "Stop!" I'm really scared. I feel myself shivering, writhing. It's agony.

"A little attitude change?" she asks. I nod and can only think of my tortured bladder. My world is only pain; I hear her saying:, "Well let's try again," a note of triumph in her voice. There is a flushed look to her, a little strange. She offers the jar to my lips.

I try to think of something else; I swallow in a hurry; the taste is like a bitter chamomile tea and if I think about it being mine, I might retch. I feel it warm in my throat. Suddenly the knife pain is starting to lessen; she's closed the upper valve and is opening the drain valve just a little.

"Don't stop drinking," she warns me. "Or I'll shut it." I taking big sips, afraid to stop, feeling my abdomen slightly relieved of the torture. Then something strange happens. My cock, which had wilted entirely during the process, starts to harden. I'm swallowing pee, smelling the pungent odor and utterly beaten. But my cock is beginning to feel good. To this day, I don't know why. Maybe she's right and it's got a mind of its own. I see her look down.

"What's this, Bro?" She says. "Not feeling so bad, now?"

"Please, don't shut the drain. ... I'll keep drinking."

"You're getting off on this, aren't you?" she asks, an odd look on her face.

I don't know what's going on, but my cock is hard, despite the tube. My bladder is maybe half full, and I can feel the excitement building. I've never come in front of my sister; hell, we haven't seen each other naked since we were kids having our peeing contests in the back yard. I wonder what she's thinking.