Chapter 3

Katie managed to hide her emotions really well while our parents were around. She didn't show any signs of sadness until Mom and Dad had gone to bed. She gave me a long hug before she went to her room.

"Thanks for being there for me," she said quietly.

I could feel her nipples through the fabric.

On the next morning, I woke up when someone knocked on my door half an hour before I usually got up.

"Come in," I said.

It was Katie. She was wearing a modest black dress and holding the cummed-on bra she was supposed to wear today. She looked scared and confused but trying to be brave.

"I woke up and couldn't fall asleep anymore," she said. "I kept thinking about today, about wearing this."

She sat down on my bed. I adjusted my sheets to hide my boner.

"It feels wrong to do this. It feels like a sin ... but I really don't have any choice."

I put my hand on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Katie."

She held up the bra.

"I was going to put this on in my room. Get it over with. But I just couldn't get myself to do it. I thought..." She shook her head. "I thought it might be easier if I talk to you first."

"Katie," I said gently, "if you want to ... if you want to you can put it on here. I won't look."

She hesitated.

"No, I ... I know this is weird, but ... I want you to look. I need ... I guess I need someone to look at me who doesn't see me as ... as a ... a slut. Someone who can see me naked and doesn't want to hurt me. I want to feel ... safe."

I nodded. "You're always safe with me, sis."

Slowly she took off her dress. She wasn't wearing panties and I could see she hadn't shaved. Her body looked beautiful in the early morning light. She looked down at the floor.

"Katie," I said, "you're not a slut. Don't let him or them change how you see yourself."

She sat down on the bed again, still naked. Her breasts bounced a little and I almost came just from looking at them.

She raised her eyes to look at me.

"Do you really think so?"

I tried not to stare at her breasts.

"Yes," I said.

She gave me a little smile. "Thank you."

Then she leaned forward and put her head on my shoulder. Her breasts were pressing against my chest. I wanted to grab her and fuck her until she screamed. But after a silent minute or two she got back up.

With a sigh, she started putting on the bra.

"It's not even one of my better bras," she said with a bitter laugh, as if she was talking to one of her girlfriends.

I realized that was what she needed: to treat this like a normal problem. She had chosen me as her confidant.

"It's a bit too tight. But at least it doesn't smell too much. I was afraid it would. Thank God for small blessings."

She adjusted the straps. Her cleavage looked perfect.

Suddenly she seemed scared again.

"Do you think anyone will notice?" she said.

"I hope not," I replied. "Just try not to think about it."

But she clearly did. She was nervous all day in school, barely talking to her friends. I noticed her glancing around, trying to figure out who her abuser was. She adjusted her bra over and over. When I talked to her for a little while around noon, her eyes seemed reddened.

During break one of her friends, a redhead called Jilly that I'd jerked off to many times, asked me if Katie was OK.

"She's probably just tired," I said. "Don't worry."