Whack

This is a sweet little family story, a story of sibling trust and connection, a story of support and unwitting betrayal. A story of mystery. There is, however, minimal female nudity and, alas, no multiorgasmic adventures. There is femdom. It ends sadly but with hope for the future. Caveat emptor!

***

Whack.

I looked at my tormentors. Jenny was a scrappy spitfire capped by a mop of red hair. The other, Emma, whom I'd trusted my whole life, was ignoring my eyes, ignoring my grunts, ignoring my four shackled limbs. We were the kind of twins who had always had each other's back, and even if I was 1 month older and always much larger, I'd never have teased or bossed her around. All of us were 19.

Whack.

She gave me another open-palmed smack on my rock-hard cock, a wet cock which was being held firmly in place by Jenny's strong grip.

"You looked like you weren't paying attention," Emma said, squinting her eyes, angrily. Or was she holding back laughter? Hard to tell.

I looked, again, at the two girls. From my face-up position on my bed, they were sitting comfortably above me, bare legs akimbo and entwined, knee-high white socks pulled helter skelter, their matching plaid skirts draped at the level of their hips. Both were not only wearing their regulation white blouses, modest bras, and (presumably) panties, they both wore the short blue gym shorts that were expected at their small girls school Combined, they weighed maybe 200 pounds. Maybe less. Both had until recently been virgins, and one still was, and both had recently returned for the 2nd half of their senior years after twelve months on some sort of weird gap year spent at a convent in rural Ireland. It was midafternoon, Christmas Eve, one of many times during the year when we absolutely knew where our parents would be, church.

They girls had only been back a couple weeks, while I'd returned home less than a week earlier, after our football bowl game.

For at least half an hour, I'd been lying on my own bed, bound by straps and thick leather restraints to the cast iron frame.

Whack.

"Pay attention," Emma barked. "Quit tuning out."

Paying attention had never been a family strength. For example, 20 years ago, after years of trying--which I guess meant an unusual amount of goal-directed and spiritually-sanctioned parental intercourse--mom and dad decided to adopt a baby. What they hadn't noticed is that when they arrived in Hanoi, their expected 6-month-old baby had been adopted out from under them. As did the next one. So they wrote out a binding contract to protect their rights to the future child. Dad, incidentally, is a lawyer, which meant he understood that such a contract would never actually be binding, but he's a church lawyer, so he is often writing contracts as if God were going to rule in his favor--which never struck me as likely.

Anyway, they locked in on this barely-pregnant young, single woman, who wanted or needed to give up her child, and they were so focused that they didn't notice that mom had finally--after all that goal-directed fucking--gotten pregnant. Some parents would have been content and just called things off with the international adoption, but my parents--being committed and obsessional-- never considered that option. And they got what they wanted. Did I mention my parents were nutty, which allowed them to fit into their own families, which included just enough people to push them past cult status? I mean, they were Catholic, which is an Official World Religion and hardly a cult, but they were a particularly zealous sort of Catholic. Sort of old school Irish multiplied by southern evangelical conservatism, with a twist of idiosyncratic severity. Smart, bookish, but anti-intellectual and anti-liberal. They were not prone to humor or half measures.

Emma and I learned early on what it took to survive: good manners and deep but unspoken skepticism towards arbitrary authority. For me, those qualities contributed to my career in football, which--like the military--heavily rewards good manners in people who can avoid taking authority too personally. For Emma, those qualities probably helped her make straight A's but might have led her to being open to being taken advantage of by other kids, but no one at any of our schools would ever have fucked with my sister. As I said, we're twins and best friends.

Whack.

"Do you even know what focus means? Emma asked. "Don't forget why we're here. It's all your fucking fault."

I smiled, or would have smiled if my mouth hadn't been bound by a red kerchief. In all our years together, I'd never heard her use the word "fuck."

"No," I said, "I don't know why we're here."

Which sounded a lot like, "nnn, iuhddnYhhrrr."

Whack.

"It's interesting," Jen pointed out, after having been largely silent for the preceding half hour, "that such a big guy would have such a small penis. It's not really what you'd expect."

They laughed.

I might have pointed out that I'd just finished my first season on a nationally-ranked college football team, that while I hadn't started as a freshman, I'd played much of every game and was expected to start the following year. I had also been named an all-state high school linebacker just a few days before Emma and Jen had disappeared to Ireland. My dick was just as big as one might expect.

If they'd remove the kerchief, I might have pointed out that Jenny couldn't even get her hand fully around my cock, which was partly why it kept falling free, though it was also sliding loose because it was slippery: she kept blowing me, wetly, for a few seconds, enough to keep me very hard. I might also have mentioned that it had taken a couple of hours of my best efforts to squeeze half of my dick into the very-willing but virginal Jen just two nights earlier. I have my insecurities, but dick size isn't one of them.

But they know that. Why go to all this trouble? Why would my sweet sister decide to make some sort of statement by whacking me every few minutes? Were they mad that I'd deflowered Jen? She'd been completely willing. And I'd been genuinely excited to commit to her, to not fuck around with anyone else. How did that lead to my sweet little sister smacking my dick? We'd never done anything sexual together. I'd never even thought of her that way. My best guess is that mine was the first cock she'd ever seen or felt, much less smacked, over and over. Had they planned this at the convent?

Whack.

"You," Emma said, "are such an asshole."

Hmmm. I was exactly the kind of guy who could've been an asshole, since most guys would become assholes if they get too much of what they want, and I had all the usual desirable qualities tacked on to the reality that I'd been the best player in multiple sports at schools that loved their sports teams. I'd always been kept in check, partly because I wasn't allowed to date or drink or stay out late, but mostly because my small, nerdy, innocent twin had been my best friend.

Jenny held my cock aloft, as if it were a recently-caught fish, offering it to my sister, who was patting her bare thigh with her hand, as if pondering her next step.

Whack.

I tried to make eye contact, but Emma, she of the open palm, was focused only on my cock. Her high Vietnamese cheek bones were tinted a dusky red. The top few buttons of her blouse had come loose. I looked down her top and was reminded, again, that her bra bore a more ceremonial than utilitarian function.

"I think this big dude is perving on his high school sister." Emma shook her head, with an angry smile.

"How can you tell?" Jenny asked.

Emma looked undecided. She stood on my bed and bounced a little, like we did as kids. She turned away, and standing way above me, quickly pulled down her shorts and panties. Her legs were firmly pressed together. I stared.

I don't think I'd ever seeing her butt before. I mean, I must have--we'd grown up together--but not that I remember. Most of the butts I'd seen were of other guys in the locker room, and they tended to be sweaty and hairy. I'd also seen quite a few girl butts in the year that I'd been away at college, but I was mostly gripping or twisting or pulling apart their willing legs. Emma's butt was extremely smooth and sweet.

I looked as Jen stretched her free arm--a lean, pale, freckled arm--towards her best friend. Her lithe fingers spread smoothly, familiarly, on my sister's left butt cheek. What had they been doing in Ireland? Sheesh.

Jen looked steadily at me with her pale, blue eyes. Those eyes had been so vulnerable and adoring just days earlier, but now they looked cold and appraising.

Her hand squeezed Emma's butt. Was that a signal to me they'd become lovers during their year at the convent? Or a reminder that Emma should get back to the task at hand, whatever that task turned out to be.

Emma turned, slightly, looking down at Jen, which gave me the chance to get a peek at a tuft of pubic hair. I was reminded, again, of my naivete--it had simply never occurred to me that Emma would have pubic hair, though, if asked, I'd have assumed she had, despite her flat chest, thin hips, and youthful look. I'd just never thought about it.

Emma quickly pulled up her shorts. She sat down next to her friend.

"Did he look at me?"

Jenny gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Emma stroked Jen's red hair and whispered, "so, did he look?"

"Em, you're incredibly hot, and he's tied down, and you were standing above him. Of course he looked."

"Did his dick get harder?"

"I'm not sure it could get a whole lot harder," Jen giggled quietly. She gave me a squeeze, "but it kinda throbbed a little."

Whack.

"Uunnh," I gasped, through the kerchief.

I lunged, trying to cum, but I lunged into air. The smacks didn't hurt, exactly, but the whole scene was just too weird. How did this happen?

My wet cock slipped free, momentarily, but Jenny--she of the red hair--grabbed it with both hands and then gripped it again with her left hand.

She was a righty at most things, but she was left dominant at golf, tennis, and--apparently--holding cock.

Jen looked at me. "Do I need to use my fingernails or will you stay reasonably still?"

While unsure how best to answer Jen's question--no on the nails, yes on my potential for staying still--I didn't move. I felt sweat slide down my face.

"It's strange," Jenny continued, "he used to be so articulate."

I tried to slide into her small hands, to gain some control, to cum, but...

Whack.

"Unnnh," I replied, twisting, knowing that I was fixed, quivering and muttering, strapped to my bed, naked and defenseless on my own bare mattress. And I'd agreed to this, or at least to the beginnings of it. Such a schmuck.

The two of them giggled, again. The fingers of Jen's free right hand interlaced with the fingers of Emma's left hand. The dick whacks remained surprising, but the intimacy between the two of them... it confused me.

Jen leaned over to give the head of my cock another suckle, which reminded me of our night together. Could that have only been 48 hours ago? That had been very hot, and we'd gone at it all night, but nobody had been tied or tortured. Was tortured even the right word?

I had loved going down on Jen, loved her responsiveness. I also loved the fact that she had an abundance of red pubic hair that she didn't feel a need to shave like so many girls our age. Though who knew how interested the rural Irish nuns would be in decadent, secular, American pubic grooming?

Remembering Jen's enthusiasm, and being viscerally aware that she was bathing a couple of inches of my cock with a wet, vigorous tongue, I rammed a few more inches into her mouth. She felt the fullness and started to suck with abandon, with a pulsating neck artery, and a reddening face, but Emma pushed on her forehead, and Jen pulled back, saliva dangling, and looked at her bestie, my sister, my Emma. Just above her white blouse, Jen's chest was blushing, as were her cute cheeks.

Jenny sat upright and tightened her grip on my cock. She lightly dug in her nails.

"Ahhgghh," I groaned, trying to indicate that they were now heading into the direction of pain rather than psychological torment.

"Sheesh," Jen said, "he mumbles and doesn't seem to appreciate all our attention, plus he's bad at taking directions."

"I know, right?" Emma said. "He'd always been so reasonable until he ruined us."

Ruined them? What was she talking about?

I looked at the girls. Jenny lived down the street. Emma lived down the hall. They were little and shy. I was big and outgoing. I'd watched out for them for years.

What would my teammates think if they could see this scene? They'd give me unending shit, for sure, but some would be insanely jealous.

Whack.

"Focus," Emma said. She leaned into me, her face inches from mine. Satanic eyes. I could see every pore on her lovely face. She licked her full, red lips. Cute tongue. For the first time, i wondered what it would be like to really kiss that mouth--a strangely delayed curiosity since we'd been intimates for 19 years, and she'd been whacking my dick for an hour.

"Are you thirsty?" Emma asked.

I nodded, as did Jen.

My sister laughed and twisted my right nipple.

"i wasn't talking to you, big guy, but we'll be back. Don't go anywhere."

I leaned back, looked down at my frustrated dick, and drifted into exhaustion.

How did I get here?

It started when they returned from their year of Irish purity. My grandmother's idea, apparently, since her own sister was a nun at the place, and the two girls could attend the school that was located inside the convent.

The Ireland decision had happened very quickly, while I was off on a cross country ski trip with some high school buddies to celebrate my early graduation. I'd wanted to go downhill skiing, but such a risky sport would have been completely off limits; I was about to head off to college to get down to the serious business of preparing for the following football season. Even the cross country skiing would have been forbidden if I'd asked the coaches. Like the other guys who'd started college a semester early, we spent 6 months working out all the time, eating a massive number of calories, learning the playbook, hanging with the upperclass players, and taking a few classes. And in my case, the big victory was that I got to leave home a solid 9 months early with the plan to spend the summer away as well. The NFL would be a longshot, but getting a full, 12-month-a-year, 4-year scholarship to live in a college town? That was like winning Lotto.

Emma understood that reality and seemed okay with me getting to start early, even if she was the better student. But we hadn't counted on Ireland.

Or their not being allowed to use phones or watch tv or even come home for a year. I hadn't gotten any answers from my parents. I'd felt traumatized, though it got a little confusing because when I'd tell a girl at college about how bad I felt about losing my little twin, they'd almost uniformly jump my bones. Between their pity, the general allure of my football prowess, the lack of on-campus rules, and the absence of my sister's wholesome smirk, I got laid a lot.

Finally, they returned from their year in Ireland. Tears all around. They declined to discuss why they went, saying that had been part of the deal that allowed them to return.

Jenny and I had always been friendly, but now she flirted. I flirted back. I broke it off with a couple girls I'd been dating at college, fully intending to give it a shot with Jen, whom I'd known forever and whom I'd always liked. And then we had our one night of hot sex, and we'd been open with each other. Very sweet. Not noteworthy to anyone aside from the two of us. Which led directly to this mess, to my agreement to let her tie me up.

Flick.

Emma had flicked my dick with her right forefinger, like she was flicking off a little schmutz. It stung. Jen entered the room and sat down. They were still wearing their rumpled uniforms.

"You keep tuning out."

With almost superhuman effort, I squeezed free of the kerchief. Finally.

"Can we talk?" I could barely croak out the question.

"You sound hoarse. Dry?"

I nodded, and Emma poured water into my mouth.

"Thanks."

"No prob."

"Uhm," I began. "Maybe you could tell me what's going on."

I felt strangely quiet, subdued.

Emma looked at me. "None of this rings any bells? No distant memories? No pivotal experiences?"

I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders, wrinkled my face. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Think."

"Nothing comes to mind."

"If you don't know, why did you agree to this punishment?"

"I didn't agree to this punishment."

"Then how did we tie you down?"

"You know this already. Jen said that sex with me was the greatest, thank you very much, but she'd like to experiment with being in charge, which would be especially fun with someone so big. So I agreed to get naked and let her snap these shut." I looked at my wrists, enclosed by the leather restraints. I flopped my legs, similarly bound at the ankles.

"That was just the set-up for today," Emma said, "when we knew the parents would be at church."

I looked at Jen, who wouldn't make eye contact. i knew that girl, knew her well, and even if our night together was intended to get me tied up, there was no way she'd been faking it. I wondered if I'd get to fuck her again.

"Well," I said, "you might have had a plan, but I certainly wasn't expecting the two of you to walk in wearing uniforms as if from central casting for a schoolgirl porn film. It might've been hot if you weren't my fucking sister. What were you thinking?"

"Ah, I think it may be coming back to you, asshole."

"Sheesh, Emma, you certainly got a dirty mouth from those nuns. First you say "fuck," then "asshole." Next, you'll be the kind of virgin who likes bondage and incest."

I smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not funny, you fucking asshole."

Whack.

"You know why we went to Ireland for an entire year? Missing the end of our senior year, getting to be a whole year behind our friends, despite making straight A's? An entire year of living with nuns and doing chores alongside girls who were actually debating whether to become nuns? Know why? Because of you, dickhead."

"Dickhead? Em, your vocabulary is out of control."

They both stared at me with flat certainty, like they were referees giving the bad news about a penalty.

"Grandma was visiting for the Christmas holiday, and everybody was out of the house except for her and mom, and they were doing laundry. And you know what they found? An external hard drive."

"OK...."

"The hard drive that had my name written on it," Emma continued.

"I wondered where that went."

"I bet you did, thief. And they opened it."

"How? It was locked."

"That's your only question, how they cracked the code? A code which was, evidently, my birthday. Great password. You ought to work for the NSA. And maybe you should avoid leaving a stolen hard drive in your jeans that you toss in your dirty clothes."

I shrugged.

"And guess what they found when they fired that baby up?"

I didn't say anything.

"They knew that I liked to download movies, which is why they'd given me that particularly huge hard drive for my fucking birthday. The first film they opened was one that I had actually downloaded before you stole it. They had already seen it, but there were lots of others."

They stared at me. For some reason, I looked down at my dick, my little shriveled dick.

They followed my eyes.

"I think," Jen said, as she crouched over my crotch, "that he should come to full attention for this next part." She took me in, all in, which she could do because I was soft and defenseless. She sucked and licked. Almost immediately, I felt the lengthening and hardening. She slowed. A beautiful image of my cock, fucking that lovely mouth, Jen's mouth, framed by a mop of red hair that I'd known for almost my entire life.