Chapter 12

“I’m never going to get used to being humiliated, Sir.”

“Then you’re looking at it all wrong. Do you even know the difference between humiliation and humility? If you learn humility, no one can humiliate you because they’re only doing something to make you feel stupid. But you’re not stupid, are you, slut?”

Rich has already CALLED me stupid too many times to ask that. It was clear he THINKS that I’m stupid. But now he’s asking if I think I’m smart? Well that’s an opportunity too good to miss to remind him I know what I am!

“Yes, Sir. I AM smart!”

“So tell me, miss smart slut, how would dad react if you went back downstairs without a bra or panties on right now. Would he make a scene and humiliate you?”

“I can’t go downstairs naked, Sir! Dad would ground me until I am eighteen! He made mom choose Mr. J over us for less!” I blurted before thinking.

But in a way it WAS less. Mom wasn’t rubbing her relationship with the neighbor in his face, as far as I knew.

“That’s not what I said, slut. We were talking about humiliation versus humility. I was asking if I ordered you to remove your underwear and go downstairs to get me a soda dressed only in that top and a skirt, would you be humiliated if you were doing it?”

“So I’d be completely covered? As much as this top covers anything, that is.”

“Uh huh. I’m asking because dad is humble. I think he wouldn’t say a thing even if he noticed. Mom was a slut for eight years and he didn’t say a thing till recently, really,” Rich reminded me.

“Dad’s a pussy,” I spat. I’m still angry that dad had made mom choose, even though it must have been hard for him to do. “But I’d do it, no problem, Sir,” I assured my brother.

“Why? He’d see your tits bouncing around, threatening to fall out of that top if they weren’t supported by a bra.”

“I wouldn’t let them fall out, Sir. I’d only be embarrassed if they did.”

“So it’s not wearing the top that bothers you, but falling out of it. You don’t want him to see those amazing funbags pop out. That means you’re proud of having such fantastic jugs but too proud to show them off to dad who doesn’t deserve to see them. Humility versus humiliation. Only prideful sluts can be humiliated.”

Rich’s assessment stunned me. I’d never considered myself overly prideful but I guess I am. Still, I didn’t want dad seeing my boobs. It wouldn’t be right, and he’d still ground me.

“So how do I stop being so prideful, Sir?” I asked quietly.

“You have the same problem mom had, slut. She gave up the last of her pride when she moved in with Jim. You need me to stop you from being a stuck up bitch, and you’ve been pretty good at that so far. But there’s so many things your pride gets in the way of. Toilet water isn’t going to hurt you, but you called it gross. Maybe after you get back with my soda, we should go to the bathroom together so you can apologize to the toilet water for calling it gross?”

What? Where does Rich GET this stuff? Apologize to the toilet? That sounded so stupid! I wouldn’t do it! Then I realized what Rich was doing. He was testing me. The toilet water wouldn’t laugh at me. Only Rich would ever see me do it.

The question was, could I live down RICH seeing me do it? Could I talk to an inanimate object as if it were alive, in front of Rich? It’d be so humiliating. No, it’d be humbling. That’s why Rich suggested it. And he’d be right. I am full of myself. I need to prove to myself as much as Rich that I’m not too stuck up.

“That’s a good idea, Sir,” I finally replied.

“Then lose the bra and panties. I’m going to get dad used to seeing you bounce around inside your tops.”

“How’s one morning supposed to help me become more humble, Sir?

“Each day I’m going to find something a little more daring for you to wear in front of him. On Monday morning you’ll be going to school in a sheer top with your nicest bra on, then Tuesday it’ll be back to no bra with an opaque top.”

That’d be wrong on so many levels, Sir! First, dad would flip out of I wore a top like that, then refuse to allow me to wear it to school. Then I’d get sent home for not meeting the dress code.”

I dare anyone at school to punish you for not wearing what women around the world call a torture device. Mary Walls didn’t wear a bra the other day and they were fine with it.”

“But she’s a small B, not an FF-cup! She could get away with it!” I was so wound up I forgot to call Rich, Sir. He jumped all over that omission.

“Listen to yourself, slut! Do I forget to address you as slut or bitch or cunt? No! You’re so caught up in your own pride that remembering your position is not even important to you! You ARE my slut, and you follow my orders. You just earned yourself another punishment. But first, get me a soda, whore!”

A little part of me shriveled up at his tone and his words. I WAS being a self centered bitch. But Rich just didn’t understand how impossible what he was saying would be to do! Dad would never allow it. I apologized and told him what I thought.

“Dad will only take so much, Sir. He won’t let me leave the house in a top that shows my bra. He definitely won’t let me leave the house without one.”

“Then you have to convince him you’re sick of being judged by people with no right to,” Rich smiled at that and I think it was because HE judged me all the time, now.

“But I still have to punish you. I just can’t, until later on. If dad’s still in the kitchen when you go down, tell him you’re taking a stand and if he doesn’t like it, he can go to hell. I know you want to again anyway.”

“Riiiich, Sir. Please. I can’t DO that,” I whined.

“You just don’t WANT to do that. The difference is I’m not giving you a choice. I’m making you stand up for yourself against dad,” he said.

Rich’s pep talk really did help. I felt empowered to stand my ground against dad.

When I stood up to take off my top so I could remove my bra, I actually did a little teasing. After I slid the straps off my shoulders and pulled my arms out, I popped first one boob out of its cup then the other and then I used the bra itself as a shelf to present my boobs to my brother.

I even pinched my nips a bit to make them really hard. I think I teased myself more than my brother but he seemed to enjoy the performance I was putting on for him as much as it was arousing me.

I started to just wish he wasn’t gay and would instead demand I worship his dick. I even imagined him being rude to me while he did it. Our conversation about humility versus humiliation was making me want to explore my own desires even though he is my brother.

To be honest, I’m starting to care less about us being siblings and more about what he, as a guy, has between his legs. He’d admitted he’d been hard before, watching me, so it shouldn’t be such a big deal for me to tell him I want to see his dick. But how does one bring THAT up in conversation?

Especially after how shocked he was when he’d thought I had wanted to see him naked, and I didn’t even want that, then. I’d kind of burned a bridge there.

I’d already slipped my skirt off for him and was rolling my panties down my recently shaved legs when I had another idea.

“Sir? What do you think dad would do if I was clearly aroused when I went into the kitchen?”

“Probably nothing. Why, slut?” The way Rich asked was as though he suspected I was getting ready to back out of doing as he’d said, or something.

I started to feel self conscious and was already double guessing my idea and I hadn’t even asked yet. I could feel my cheeks getting warm and I could feel my head beginning to dip so soon, all I’d see was the floor in front of me. I got a grip and looked directly at Rich.

“May I masturbate a little before I go down so he can smell me when I go in there? I want him to understand I’m not his little girl anymore but rather a mature young slut ... woman!” I quickly corrected myself. I couldn’t believe I’d said that!

Rich chuckled. “You had it right the first time, slut ... But you know what, slut?” He turned his statement into a question.

“What, Sir?” I asked, thinking he was going to say no just because he could. Even though I’d forced myself to ask in the first place. He had to know it hadn’t been easy.

“I think I should do it. I have to get used to doing it and now’s as good a time as any. Bend over at the waist, spread your legs and present your ass to me,” he ordered.

I should have known he’d say that. My butt had to be the only part of me that he could imagine looking anything like a boys’ behind.

I spun around, bent over and even put my hands on my own cheeks, parting them for him. I knew he had to be getting a never before seen view of my butt hole but I clenched my teeth, ignored my humiliation and stayed like that. I was going to learn humility. I had to start somewhere.

I still just about jumped out of my skin when when I first felt Rich’s hand cup my sex from behind, which put his thumb right over my pucker. I was petrified he’d try to jamb that thumb up my butt, without lube.

That’s what I actually thought, too. I should have been scared he’d try to do that at all! Instead, I just made a whimpering sound as if I was enjoying his touch. Honestly, that was not even a little lie. His hand felt magic!

“Rub your cunt over my fingers, slut. Get yourself all worked up using my hand as if it’s the only way you’re ever going to get an orgasm. Hump it like you mean it, you horny, disgusting bitch!”

“Oh God, yes, Sir,” I moaned and began doing what he’d said.

We continued like that for a few minutes until I was soaked and the smoothness of his fingers was starting to feel otherworldly against my nether lips. I had to bite my tongue or I would have begged him to slide a couple fingers into my channel - was that worked up!

Then Rich started talking dirty, and it was all I could do not to cream myself then and there.

“I ought to take my cock out and rub it over your cunt, slut!”

I said something in reply but I honestly don’t know what it was.

“Really? Jim was right. You really are a nasty hoe bag, slut! But you asked for it!”

Then he took his hand away! It had felt so amazing, too. I loudly groaned my disappointment. But then he replaced his fingers with something hot, hard, yet soft at the same time. It was his dick!

I knew it instinctively despite never having seen a live one. Despite convincing myself that my brother had the dick of an eight year old. But Rich’s dick was enormous!

I mean comparatively speaking. The first thing I did was open my eyes and look between my thighs. Rich’s pants were down around his ankles and I could see the head of his dick sliding between my parted lips. He had to be at least six inches long, probably longer.

And from what I saw of his knob in that shirt second, it looked like it was the size of a child’s wrist and almost purple in color.

“You have a nice cunt, slut. But I’m not putting it in you, unless you beg again. I like it when you beg.”

Is that what I’d said? I mean I really didn’t know I had! But oh boy, I’m glad I had! Now it’d only be a simple request to give up my v-card to Rich. All those years of saving myself for Mr. Right and Rich had been right here and I’d never once given him a thought.

“Do it!” I hissed. “Fuck your big cock into me,” I demanded, way past caring that I didn’t sound wholesome and polite. I needed Rich’s dick in my privates, NOW.

Instead of penetration, I felt Rich sliding his dick away until it lost contact completely. Nooooo!

“Please, Sir! You can’t stop now!”

“You wanted to go downstairs smelling like a slut, and now, you do. Also, maybe now you understand that my job is just as tough as yours, but you still don’t get to tell me what to do. I REALLY want you to fuck my cock, slut. But you have to ask. To beg. No one ever said it’d be so hard to say no,” he said, as if to himself.

When I finally made my way downstairs to get Rich his soda after begging Rich a couple more times with no better luck, my nips were prominent within my top, and I was so turned on I didn’t care WHAT dad would say.

It was a letdown of epic proportions to find that dad had already finished the kitchen and was in the yard, messing with the lawnmower. I’d been so scared of his reaction to me braless, for nothing! He wasn’t even there to see me. I almost stomped back upstairs.

It’s not that I’d WANTED dad to see me or even say something, but I’d been working myself up to lashing out at him, ready to call him a pervert for looking at my boobs or saying I smelled like a whorehouse. Then when it didn’t happen, it was like I’d missed an opportunity. Sure I felt relieved but just as disappointed.

By the time I got back upstairs, I heard the lawnmower splutter to life outside. I dropped to my knees in the hallway and knocked on Rich’s door.

“So?” Rich asked after calling me in.

“Dad’s outside mowing the lawn,” I told him, making him crack up just from the look of disappointment on my face.