Her Little Sister
Chapter 8

Copyright© 2011 by wood2chuck

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 8 - Robert pursues various forms of sexual enjoyment with three members of the same family. Or is he being pursued? What a choice he has to face! This one's much more upbeat than my last story. Lots more variety too.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Consensual   Heterosexual   Cheating   Incest   Spanking   Light Bond   Humiliation   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Exhibitionism  

I had pulled on my shirt, trousers and shoes for the trip to my place ... the hell with underwear ... but Donna was still naked when I parked in my driveway. She wanted to ride that way because, "It gives me a thrill to think somebody could look in and see me. Even though probably nobody will."

She was probably right. When's the last time you saw a naked woman inside a dark car at night? When's the last time you even looked? See my point?

But when I parked my car in the drive, I saw she had no intention of getting dressed before she left the car. So I said, "I'll get out first and see if I can see anybody."

I looked around, went up on my porch, unlocked the door, and looked around again. Looked all clear to me. I signaled to Donna that it was okay.

She did not sneak into my house. She pranced in, her head high, her chest out, her hips swaying in the high heels that were all she was still wearing. I hoped the widow-lady in the other half of the duplex wasn't watching through her curtains the way she sometimes did. She was stone deaf, but she wasn't blind. And she was nosy.

Donna giggled as I locked the apartment door behind her. "That was fun. I liked that game. Do you think anybody saw?" she asked.

"Do you care?" I replied.

"Not really. So what if they did. I think I look pretty fucking good, how about you?"

"Oh, you look fucking good to me," I said. "And speaking of..."

"Wait a minute," Donna said.

Suddenly, unsummoned, Allison's face came into my mind again, the way it looked when she shot me that meaningful glance the day before, and I heard her voice in my head.

"Yes, wait a minute," it seemed to say. "Too fast,"

"Can we play another game," Donna asked. "What if I was like in your power, you know, like I had to do everything you said and you could do anything you wanted to me? Like I couldn't resist? Would you do that with me?"

"You mean you want me to be like your master, and you're like my slave?" I said, getting into the spirit of the scene.

"That's it. Can we?"

"If you really want to," I said, thinking hard about whether this was really a wise thing to do. "One thing, though," I said, thinking fast, "if we're going to do this you have to have some control. I know you trust me, but how about we give you a word to say if you want to suspend the game and go back to real life? Textbook. Say textbook and we talk to each other for real. And if you want to go back to the game, say comic book. Textbook and comic book."

"Okay," she said, with a slightly nervous giggle. Her dark eyes were flashing. Her nipples were hard and erect. She was aquiver with anticipation.

"Comic book" she said. "What do you want me to do, Master?"

Frankly, I was in over my head ... again. These Price women kept doing that to me. But the Master is supposed to know what he's doing, so I assumed an air of authority, and a vaguely middle European accent.

"Go to the closet by the front door. You will find a hanger with several silk ties on it."

Several very ugly ties, actually. Every guy's got a few that he keeps in some dark corner where he lives. This was the time to open up that dark corner.

"Bring me the ties!" I ordered, as I quickly removed my hanging plant from the ceiling hook that kept it hanging. I was improvising. This wasn't my kind of scene, but I somehow sensed she needed it. I was getting to know this family.

She brought me the ties, and I used them to bind her wrists together and attach them to the hook in the ceiling. When I was done she was helpless, her arms bound and suspended above her head, her naked body at my mercy. I stepped back to survey my work. She wasn't uncomfortable; her arms weren't stretched out painfully. She was just totally exposed there before me. Completely vulnerable. Really defenseless. And I felt an unfamiliar thrill. I was The Master. I could have my way with her.

Now don't get me wrong. I could never enjoy subjecting someone unwillingly to such a situation. But Donna had willingly abandoned herself to me. She had declared her trust, and I knew I would live up to it. But I also knew she wanted to experience danger, risk, and perhaps humiliation. I could see it in the quivering anticipation of her helpless body and in her eyes.

Ah, I thought, her eyes. And I tied one more silk cravat over her eyes as a blindfold.

"Perhaps you will not mind," I said in my best generic foreign accent, "if I invite some of my business associates in to admire your beauty. I shall, of course, expect you to remain silent in their presence."

She nodded submissively.

I went to the door and noisily unlocked and opened it. "Come in, come in," I said to my imagined guests. And I locked the door behind them.

"Jesus Christ, boss," I croaked in my best basso-Brooklyn accent. "She sure is a looker!"

"Yes, Bruno," I said, in my European accent, "she has a remarkable body."

I walked around behind Donna as she hung there helpless in my living room. I think she was startled to hear my voice coming from behind her.

"She's very sensitive, too," I said, as I grasped her forearms just below her immobilized wrists. I slid my hands down her arms, stroking the insides of her elbows, and pressing hard at her underarms, not wanting to tickle her. I stopped short of her breasts this time. She shuddered.

"You see," I said. "Sensitive."

"Oh, boss, can I touch her?" I pleaded in my Brooklyn accent.

"Very well," my European accent replied, "but only if my other associates agree. Raise your hands if that is agreeable," I said. I paused. "Very well, Bruno, you may touch her."

I grasped her ass hard, one globe in each hand, and I pulled them apart to stretch her asshole and cause her just a little pain.

"Unnhhh!" she grunted explosively.

Holding the stretch with one hand, I teased her asshole with my finger.

"OOOOHoooh!" she cried.

"Silence!" I commanded.

Back in front of her now, I grabbed her tits forcefully, but I didn't have the heart to give them the same rough treatment that I gave her ass. Sinking my fingers into them, I growled, "Wow, boss, these are some titties."

"Careful," I said in my role as Master, "don't leave bruises. Customers don't like bruises."

"Aw, but they feel so good," my Brooklyn alter ego replied. And I kneaded her breasts roughly.

Donna was beside herself. Her arousal was evident, and her silence obviously came at some cost. She was squirming and writhing, but her lips were pressed shut against her moans.

"Can I touch her cunt, huh, boss," I pleaded in Brooklynese.

Donna evidently liked the idea, because she arched her back to push her cunt forward and upward. She was sure making the most of her limited mobility.

"Oh, all right Bruno, but be careful," I said. "Remember the customers."

So I clasped her whole vulva in my hand and squeezed. She choked off a cry. I took one inner lip in each hand and pulled them apart. It wasn't easy; they were slippery. I saw tears leaking from beneath her blindfold, but she did not cry out. How far was I capable of carrying this?

 
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