Please Don't Harm My Sister
Copyright© 2026 by TheNovleist2000
Chapter 3
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 3 - The bully finds out you have a sister.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Coercion Reluctant BiSexual Heterosexual BDSM DomSub MaleDom Humiliation Group Sex
I remember my younger days. Whenever my parents returned from their work, I knew exactly that there were only two things left for me to do before the day ended: dinner and television.
Our family always had dinner around 7 pm, and by around 8 pm, we would gather around the sofa to watch something on TV. Most of the time, we watched a drama--a Hollywood, European or even a Korean one.
But there were times when a circus show would be on, and I remember being fascinated by all the tricks the animals would do to entertain the audience.
“Why don’t the lions bite the trainer, Mom?” I once asked.
“Because circus lions are tamed, Son,” she said.
“But they are powerful,” I argued. “They weigh more, have fangs, are ferocious, and there are many of them ... Why do they let one scrawny guy boss them around?”
“Because he is more intelligent than the lions, of course,” she replied before being engrossed in the programme to hear any of my further questions.
Her answer was an indisputable, logical one, but it did not satisfy me nonetheless. It did not explain how exactly the lions were tamed.
It took me a long, long time to discover the truth.
Lions are strong, powerful, ferocious beasts. Every animal seems to cower in their presence--gazelles bolt at the first sight of them, wildebeests grow restless when they’re within a hundred yards, and even hyenas scatter as they approach.
Lions can tear humans apart as well, and they expect us to behave like the rest of the animal kingdom when we get close to them. They are right to assume so: an average human will shit themselves in the presence of a lion in the wild.
But the circus trainer? He doesn’t flinch.
In a circus, a trainer always enters the ring first, and they do so very well in sight of the lions in their cages. Lions observe. They look at the trainer and expect him to fear them. They growl, they snarl, they intimidate him to leave the ring.
What does the trainer do? He stands tall, proud, and erect, whip in hand--without so much as a nervous glance at the lions. He shouts, cracks his whip, and stomps the ground.
The lions are impressed. What a strange creature he is? Why isn’t he afraid of us?
When they are released from their cages, they no longer have the confidence they once had. They think that there must be a reason this guy is so confident and that they must be in his territory instead of their own.
So the kings of the wild, the untouchables, begin to obey. They jump through hoops. They follow orders.
I was not a lion. I did not have fangs. I did not have claws. I did not weigh more than my circus trainer. But I jumped through his hoops nonetheless.
I left my dorm in the early morning. It was about 7 o’clock, two hours before my first class. I walked along the gravel path leading to the futsal court. It was too early for any matches, so the court lay silent and empty. I crossed it to reach the adjacent parking lot.
There weren’t many cars around. Most students preferred the indoor parking facility, while the outdoor lot was typically reserved for visitors and senior staff. Still, students occasionally parked there temporarily when plenty of spaces were available.
I looked for the black sedan I’d so often seen Axel driving. I do not remember which brand and model it was. It could have been a Mercedes, an Audi or perhaps even a Toyota. I had never been a car guy and never bothered to find out the details of any of the cars I was getting in.
But at that time, I knew the shape of it by heart. The sleek curve of its hood, the faint scratch near the left headlight, even the way sunlight bounced off its glossy black surface in the afternoon--I could recognize it from a distance.
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