Little Sister


My name is Cindy and I've just turned eighteen last week. To begin with, my family is filthy rich. My father was usually away for extended periods; my mother preferred to circulate with her upper class, prissy acquaintances than to spend time with her children. Don, my elder brother, and I were therefore closer to our nanny than our own parents. When we were in our early teens the nanny was sacked and we were left to our own resources. Don turned into a normal teen yet I took a different path. At an early age I discovered religion and the peace and harmony it gave me. This is the only favor I asked my parents for----I did not want to go to just any old school ---I wanted a private school, one that was run by nuns. This was the form of my schooling for five years. I just graduated and am thinking of becoming a missionary, perhaps in Africa or South America.

I am therefore not the average teenager who dresses in the latest fashions; nor do I hang around burger joints with the guys. I prefer the library or attending bible studies, the museum and the art classes, which I've recently found an interest in. I dress myself in conservative clothes, wear lots of baggy sweaters and long peasant-style skirts that camouflage my body. I'm short, about five-foot-one and considered to be a little on the skinny side. I have a 34-20-32 figure and a full-rounded, C cup bust. On my slender frame they look bigger than they are, but unfortunately there is nothing I can do about that except to hide them as much as possible. I know that I'm fairly pretty but I have no interest in boys. I am not a late bloomer as some people claim----I'm just not too keen about exploring the animal lurking within me. I have had urges----I'm blushing right now----but I've learnt to suppress them. Sister Judith, my friend and mentor, has helped me greatly in this department. She has been with me since I joined the nunnery and has been a tower of strength these last two years.

My parents are away again. Dad's on another one of his lengthy business trips and Mom has gone to spend the weekend with a friend of hers out in Burlington. I'm not alone, though. My brother Don, who's twenty-two, just returned from boot camp. He's a real big guy, well over six feet and his ego matches his size. He's egotistic, arrogant and to pardon my language----really full of it. Okay----so he's the neighborhood football champ and the most popular guy in town----big deal! He is not only arrogant and snobbish but I think that he has developed a mean streak, too. Not a day goes by where he doesn't make fun of me one way or another. He either laughs at my style of wardrobe or pokes fun at me when he catches me reading the bible. He claims that I'm a hippie and that I probably smoke pot behind our parent's back. That is utterly mean of him. I don't do drugs and I'm definitely not a hippie! And what is worse than his evil tongue is the strange way he's been leering at me lately. His eyes are always on my chest. I've never worn anything tight-fitting so he doesn't really know about my large breasts. I try to hide them by wearing loose shirts or heavy sweaters, but I think he suspects that they are a lot bigger than I make them out to be. His eyes are constantly on me as if he's trying to figure out my true bust size. It gives me the creeps and I am forced to tug my knees up under my chin.

At seven o'clock I left the house to attend a poetry reading and I waved Don goodbye as I made my way out the front door. He was lounging in the den, watching television, and he mumbled something that I couldn't make out. I closed the door and left.

When I came home around ten o'clock the house was dark. It was a chilly November night and I had put on white, thick cotton, high-necked blouse that had ruffles down the front and a long, ankle-length pleated dark blue skirt. For extra warmth I had put on a frilly slip-like petticoat, one that was longer than the skirt so that the ruffled, lacy hem hung out from below it. Since it was rather cold I was also wearing a big, black woolen sweater and leather gloves. I knew that I looked like an old maid or a woman of the late eighteenth century but I didn't care. The clothes were actually quite comfortable, a lot more than tight jeans and a school jersey would ever be. Okay---so I didn't look cool but at least I wasn't shivering to death! I slipped off my gloves as I crept up the dark stairs to my room. I clicked on the light and tossed the gloves on the dresser and pulled the black sweater over my head. Suddenly someone grabbed me from behind. A man's big, hairy arms were clutched around my waist. I cried out with shock as I was drawn against him. I was lifted off my feet and half-carried, half-dragged along the hall. I kicked out with my feet and screamed bloody murder but the man had the strength of a gorilla. The hallway was dark and I couldn't see who it was although I suddenly had a terrible suspicion. When the man kicked open the door to Don's room I knew that my first instinct had been right. It was Don and no other. Any other man who had ill intent on his mind would have simply thrown me over my own bed. Dragging me towards another room just didn't make any sense.

The room was lit and I could see that it was indeed my big brute of a brother. Don hurled me into the room so that I collided heavily with the edge of his dresser. Breath was expelled from my lungs and I cried out with pain. I rose shakily to my feet and stared at him with shock. "Don! Are you nuts or something? What's gotten into you?" He was wearing a big, loose-fitting bathrobe tied around the waist. I could make out the white contours of his shorts whenever the flaps opened a little when he moved his legs. "Shut up!" he snarled at me. 'Take off your clothes!" My face went white. God, he wanted to rape me! I shook my head and stared at him pleadingly. "Please, Don. You can't do this. It's not right."

An idea formed in my head and it gave me new strength. I took a small step forward and shook my fist at him. "Wait 'til I tell mom and dad about this. They're going to whoop your ass!" "Bah!" he snorted. "I don't care. I'm leaving this dump anyway. Before I go I'm gonna show you what it's like to be with a man. I'm sick and tired of hearing you babble on about the bible and sinners and blah, blah blah! I've been watching you real close. I think you have a real nice body under all that dopey shit but you go to lengths to hide it. Prove me wrong, sis. I want to see you naked! Take off those damn clothes or I'll rip you out of them!"

I had problems breathing. I was having another asthma attack and my frail body was shaking. God, this wasn't happening. I folded my hands pleadingly and begged him to let me go. "Please! I'm your sister. This is incest! Please-----it isn't right!" "Take off your clothes!" he hollered at me. I took a frightened step back. Then he took a step towards me. "Take 'em off, you little bitch!" I shrank back against the dresser and nervously brushed back a strand of blond hair that had fallen into my eyes. He slapped my face suddenly and I slammed back against the dresser with shock. My cheek was stinging from the pain and it brought tears to my right eye. "No!" I spat at him. "Stand aside and let me pass!"

I snarled at him angrily. He reached out real quickly and gave such a backhanded slap that my face blew to side. I have never been like that struck before and the pain was unbearable. I cried out and rubbed my sore cheek. He came at me then and sank his two beefy hands around my throat. I struggled and tried to kick out at him but the long skirt prevented me from getting a good swing. My foot just lifted a little before it got stuck in the frilly hem. I gasped and panted as I tried to fend him off. But Don is a foot and a half taller than me and very strong. He was shaking me about like a rag doll. Before I knew it he had slipped his hands under the high collar of my blouse. I shrieked: "Noooooooooooooooo!" as he ripped his arms apart, tearing my blouse open to the navel.

Numerous buttons sailed across his room. That's how strong he was----the heavy cotton blouse tore as easily as if it had been made of paper. He clamped one hand around my small throat and I immediately went limp. I gazed at him with wide eyes as his other hand traveled across my tummy, massaging it. Then his hand slipped into the waistband of my skirt and he commenced yanking the rest of my blouse out of it, tucking it behind my back. His eyes were on my breasts. His mouth was open in shock. "Man! Look at those tits!" he breathed as he stared at my full breasts.

"I was right! Why have you been hiding these glorious pups?" I was wearing a white, lightly laced bra and my tits had almost heaved out of the cups as the blouse had been torn. "Let me go," I pleaded and clawed at the arm pinning my neck against the wall. He gave me an evil grin and released my throat. "Will you be a good girl and remove the rest of your clothes on your own?" 'Never!" I spat at him. He gave me another slap, much, much harder than before and it brought tears to my eyes. My face was on fire. His hands were as big as frying pans. You can imagine the red marks they left on my cheeks! My head swam and I could hardly see. Everything was a blur.

I heard a clanging sound and suddenly he had slapped a metal handcuff on my right wrist. I cried out in horror as he spun me around and attached a similar one to the other. He frog-marched me towards his bed and threw me down in front of it on my knees, then bent my upper body across his bed. He reached over my body and pulled out a long rope that was tied to the headrest, a rope I hadn't noticed earlier. He tied my wrists to the rope, then got off me and pushed my body up higher on the bed so that my rear end was up off the floor. I couldn't budge an inch.

"Will you take off your clothes if I ask you again?" he snarled at me. "I'm giving you a choice. Be a good girl and I won't have to slap you around anymore." I shook my head. "I will never, never strip myself in front of you or anybody else. Never!" Then there came a swooshing sound and a horrible pain shot through my body. He had whipped my buttocks with his belt! There I knelt, my ass up in the air, unable to prevent myself from being beaten. And he wasn't gentle with the belt, either. I cried out with shame and humiliation, not to mention the stinging pain as the belt came down again and again. He must have given me at least forty beatings-----after the tenth I simply lost count. At first I screamed and trashed about. The pain was so horrible. Luckily the skirt I was wearing was of a strong material which muffled the blows to some degree.

After the tenth or twelfth strike I couldn't scream anymore----my throat was dry. I bit my teeth and started to whimper. I filtered out the pain and tried to think of something other than the horrible position I found myself in. At one point I was sure that Don had managed to cut tears in the skirt-----certain areas of my behind felt sorer than others did. Those places, the ones that almost made me pass out with the agony of pain must've been the ones where the belt connected with my bare skin. Schlack! Schlack! Schlack! It just wouldn't stop. In the end I almost did pass out. Thankfully the beatings stopped after awhile and he just let me lie there, sobbing and moaning. "Will you remove your clothes now?" I couldn't answer him. My mouth was dry. All I managed was a muted gurgle. Schlock! I emitted a groan of pain as Don spanked my sore ass with his belt again. Schlock! Schlock! Don seemed bent on turning my ass into pudding! Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. "Yes! Yes!" I screamed at him as I tore at the handcuffs. "Yes, damn you. I'll strip for you. Just don't hurt me anymore. Please."

I heard the crashing clutter of metal on would as Don dropped the belt to the floor. I prayed to God for thanks that Don hadn't been that demented to use the buckle on me. It would have killed me for sure. I felt his body stretched out over mine as he released me from the handcuffs. I cried out as his thighs brushed my sore behind. He gave a chuckle and lifted me off from the bed; but I couldn't stand upright. My knees wobbled and with a groan I stumbled to the floor. "Get up!" Don screamed at me. "Take off that ridiculous skirt. Come on, bitch. Move it!"

With a sob I lifted myself shakily to my feet and struggled to slip the torn blouse off my shoulders and down my back. I reached behind me to unbuckle my bra but he interjected quickly, ordering me not to. I shrugged and started to tug at the elastic waistband of my pleated skirt instead. I wiggled my slim hips to and fro, working the tight skirt down my legs until it gathered in a heap around my feet. I heard a laugh and gazed up to see my brother bent over, holding his stomach as waves of laughter overtook him. The bastard was laughing at my white, frilly petticoats! "Jesus!" he burst out. "Women still wear these things?" "No," I answered him fuming with humiliation. "But I choose to. Otherwise people could see right through my skirt! I can't have them ogling my legs!" "You're a nut case, Cindy." Don wiped the tears from his eyes and shook his head at me. "This is the 20th century, man. Whatever happened to tank tops and mini skirts?" "I don't wear that kind of revealing trash! " I yelled at him, suddenly more annoyed at his laughter than the actual predicament I found myself in. Anger took over. "Stop making fun of me, you sexist pig!" He reached out and gave me another heavy slap across my right cheek. "Shut up, you stupid cunt! Don't tell me what I ought or ought not to do. I give the orders here, not you. Take that silly thing off!"

I gave a cry and untied the waistband strings of the petticoat. Tears were streaming down my face and my tits shook to and fro as I struggled to pull the slippery, shiny material down my legs. The sight of my shaking tits must have excited him for he rushed forward, slapped my hands aside and started to yank and rip at the thin material in a frenzied fit. Shards of it flew off in all directions. I screamed and struggled as his hands tore at the petticoat. Within seconds he had torn it into pieces and I now stood before him wearing only my bra and panties. My body was shaking and I was having a real sobbing fit.

My brother produced a short, wooden barstool and bade me to sit on it. I hesitatingly made my way towards it and sat down. But he had something else in mind. He ordered me to lower my body backwards until my head reached the floor. I stared at him in disbelief. That was impossible, I told him. I would simply fall off. He made a face and pinned my back to the stool by holding my tummy down on it with his huge hands. "Go on. Arch yourself backwards!" I made a gurgling sound and tried to do as he ordered. My tits almost plopped out of my bra as I arched my upper torso back. "Don't move." Don let go of my stomach and bent down behind my head. Suddenly he snapped the handcuffs back on my wrists and clapped them onto the feet of the stool. I couldn't dare budge without risking falling entirely off the stool. My legs shot high up into the air. I was virtually balanced with just the small of my back perched across the narrow top of the stool. My neck and shoulders ached! Don got up and proceeded to walk towards my legs. He stepped between them, brushed them aside and fell to his knees. I gave a cry as I felt his strong hands caress my thighs. I couldn't believe that my own brother was torturing me like some sex slave! I was his sister, damn it! Didn't that account for something?

"Man! What a petite, little ass you have," he muttered as he caressed my tummy and toyed with the hem of my panty. "You have the smallest hips I've ever seen. I'm really gonna crack that skinny cunt of yours wide open!" Then his hands were on my crotch, massaging my most private parts through the material of the panty. The panty was one of those bikini types, pure white silk with sheer lace trim at the sides. I shrieked with horror as I felt his mouth on my crotch. He was kissing me there! And he wasn't just kissing, either. He was pushing his whole face roughly against me, rubbing the silky material of the panty back and forth across my vagina. He sucked on it, kissed and slobbered over it. At first I was terribly humiliated, but after the first few minutes a strange sensation came over me that I have never experienced before. I can't really describe it-----my whole body was tingling and it felt as if my pussy had received an electric shock. And then I felt my pussy lips suddenly moisten, and it wasn't from his spittle! I was oozing pussy juice, my first ever! I clenched my teeth and tried to fight the mounting tension that overtook my young body. And then his tongue was pushing through the thin, wet panty.

He forced his worm-like tongue deep into me, rubbing the insides of my labia with the soft silk of the panty. My body was on fire. I arched my back and emitted a shriek of pleasure, a shriek that I couldn't have suppressed if my life depended on it. I just couldn't help it. My cry excited him and he was suddenly jabbing and munching on my entire vagina with renewed energy. His tongue was relentless. It poked, it jabbed and it flicked me everywhere. I started to groan; the pain in my arms and shoulders momentarily forgotten. It felt so nice!

And then he rose a bit, slipped a hand into the hem of my panty and simply tore the thin thing off me with one powerful yank. My hips bounced and I gave a surprised squeal. "Oh yeah, baby!" Don groaned as he fell back between my legs. "I love the taste of your virgin pussy!" He spread my moist lips with his fingers, bent forward and started to flick his tongue across my swollen clitoris. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Don kissed my whole vagina, ran his tongue around and circles and when he actually started to chew on my clitoris, raking his teeth over it, stars exploded in my head. I came then for the first time in my life.

My heart was pounding and my brain was as if numb, but the sensations wouldn't stop. I arched my back way off the stool and emitted a very long, panting squeal. "Ooo---Ooooo---Ooooooooo---Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" But Don wasn't stopping. He sucked and slobbered on my swollen pussy, pulled and nibbled on my sore labia and relentlessly flicked his tongue across my clitoris until I came for the second time. And it was more intense than the first one. I couldn't breathe----I couldn't see straight. My head was pounding as the orgasm overcame me. I could feel cum shooting down my vagina in crazy squirts. I just couldn't stop the wonderful sensations that shook my whole body from head to toe. "A-aagh! A-aagh! A-aagh!"

Don finally pulled his head away. I couldn't see him for my head was stretched far back. All I saw was the opposite wall and that from such a crazy, upside down angle that my head was starting to spin. The orgasm was over and now the pain in my shoulders returned. He undid the cuffs from the legs of the chair and helped me to a sitting position. My body wobbled and my breath was coming in heavy gasps. He reached out suddenly, clasped his fingers around the section of the bra between my tits and ripped it off me. I cried out as the bra straps tore and as the hooks of the back band tore into my flesh.

I clawed at his arms as he cupped my breasts in his hands. He gave them a rough, brutal squeeze and I cried out with pain. "Keep your hands off me!" he hissed at me and gave my tits another fearful squeeze. Because I'm skinny my 34C breasts aren't all that round and firm but swing forward a little like long, fat torpedoes. The tips of my breasts come to a conical point and therefore my nipples are very evident. Their protruding nature makes them very sensitive. I cried out when he pinched one. "Oh----look at those nips!" He thrust his face between my tits, squeezing them together and mashing them against his cheeks. His thumbs kneaded my nipples and I squealed with discomfort. And then his mouth was over my left breast. I cried out with shock as his mouth closed over it, compressing it hard between his lips. Then he attacked the other in the same fashion.

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