MY SISTER, MY SLAVE III. ALONE AT LAST Luck fell our way. I had already made no plans for the weekend, but it fell to me to oversee the house for the weekend. My grandmother fell sick, but not seriously so, but Mom and Dad decided to look in on her anyway. They made it clear that they had no problems leaving me in charge. After all, they pointed out, I was in already in charge every weekday night. I didn't argue the point, especially since they were taking Joey with them. They left on Friday afternoon, picking Joey up from school. That left Karen and I alone in the house for the entire night, the first such time we had had together. For while Karen could not give me Saturday night, she was more than willing to offer herself for Friday. When we left for school that morning, she slipped a note in my binder. It read "I am yours tonight." With that in mind, I got precious little done at school on Friday. My friend Glenda even shook me at the end of History class to see if I was still on Earth. All I could think about was Karen and how I would use her. About how we wouldn't have to limit ourselves to my bedroom. And how we wouldn't have to quit when we heard Mom and Dad pull into the driveway. That we could be together all night. I came home right after school and began preparing the house for the evening's activities, knowing Karen would not be home until after five. I went around the entire house and pulled every window shade, but turned the lights on in every room, too. I went outside the house and circled around a couple of times to make absolutely sure that noone could casually look in on us. Or determineably look in, either. Then I took a bath, and prepared for the evening. Karen arrived as expected, bearing her school books and some additional food for the slumber party. I let her put the food away before calling her into the living room. The table was set with wine and candlelight, and there was cool, easy jazz coming from the stereo. The smell of dinner simmering wafted thru the house. The lighting in the living room was low, and I was sitting in the big easy chair, wrapped up in my bath towel. Karen didn't see me as she walked in, I guess she assumed that I was upstairs, because after she had put the food in the kitchen and dropped her school books in the hall, she looked up the stairs and called for me. "I'm over here, Karen," I announced, in the huskiest voice I could had. Karen turned, and seemed transfixed at the sight of me, as if I had put her in some sort of trance. It was as if she was affirming what she had said in the note. Slowly she walked into the living room until she was standing right in the center. There she stopped, as if she had received some predefined signal. I was impressed, and flattered. "Take off your clothes, Karen," I said, adding "Slowly." Karen complied. I don't know where she got the idea for that trancelike state, maybe it heightened the experience for her. It certainly did that for me. I was almost transfixed as she seemed as I watched her step out of her shoes, undo the buttons of her sweater, unbutton the blouse beneath it. In one fluid motion, Karen shucked the blouse and sweater and they fell to floor behind her. I found it hard to take it all in because of her blank stare, my eyes seemed drawn to her big, open, brown eyes. She undid her skirt, and that fluttered down to the ground, falling about her feet as would a Christmas tree skirt. Though I had seen her naked practically every night for four months, my heart leapt as she undid her bra, surprising me, too, for the bra had no straps and it clasped in front, and therefore she did not have to make any move which was not graceful to undo it. It fell softly to the ground as she shook it from her shoulders. She had worn no hose, just small peds, which she managed to remove with graceful tugs with her toes. Then she reached down to the bikini panties, and tugged at the sided slowly, pushing them downwards without bending, until at last the backs of them had come below the roundness of her rump. Somehow, with just a minimum of movement, she had them falling to her feet. Then she just stood there, and I drank in the beautiful body of my fifteen year old sister. Her breasts were high and round, and the nipples pointed skyward still. It seemed appropriatte to describe them as pert. I stood up and approached her. I was still a few inches taller than Karen (we would eventually be exactly the same height,) and I gazed downward into her eyes. Her stare remained, but her eyes followed mine. From the coffee table, I retrieved the black choker, the symbol of servitude Karen always wore when we took up our roles. I placed it around her neck, and circled her a few times, the same way the first day she had placed herself at my peculiar brand of mercy. I could see her nipples stiffen, which pleased me. I reached out to caress both her breasts, looking her square in the eye as I did so. I did to them what I knew she loved most, I rolled them gently along my index finger, while feeling the weight of her tits in my hand. This broke her trance. She closed her eyes and began to shiver. Inwardly I smiled, but kept the stern, impassive look on my face. I tweaked the nipples gently, just enough to open her eyes. Then I patted her rump and walked back to the chair. "Please clean up after yourself, Karen," I said as I sat down. She gathered up her clothes in a pile and walked to the stairs. She looked to me for assurance, and I nodded. While she was upstairs, I checked on dinner, and became aware of how uncomfortable the towel had become. I scanned the room to make sure I hadn't forgotten the window. Presently, Karen returned. She stood tentatively at the kitchen door. I motioned her to go to the living room. I noticed that she had taken the time to touch up her makeup (not that she wore much anyway,) and that she had put on some perfume that she knew I liked. I remember thinking, "God, how I love you," as I followed her into the room. I ordered her to undo my towel and fold it neatly on the coffee table. (I had plans for it later.) On the sofa were the clothes I had chosen for the evening, and I motioned her to get them and dress me. There wasn't much there, I admit, just the same lace black bra and black panties, and the thin black peignoir. But there was also some jewelry, not to mention a few special items of clothing. I had been looking at some fetish and bondage mags, and while I didn't feel ready for a full leather corset yet, I liked the idea of a leather garter belt and black hose. I acted stern as Karen dressed me, but I sympathized with her as she tried to figure out how to put the garter belt on. I didn't help though. Once it was on, she held the rolled stockings to my feet and I stepped into them. To tell the truth, neither of us had ever seen the sort of snaps the garter belt had, and it took a lot of control not to giggle as Karen fought with them. Karen got the first one right after a lot of false starts, and other four followed without incident. Then I stepped into the panties as she kneeled before me, and as Karen pulled them into place on my hips, our eyes met. But true to her role, Karen cast her eyes downward almost immediattely. Karen finished with the bra and the peignor, and I thanked her for her attendance. I then moved to the table, where I took my seat at the head of the table. "Serve dinner, please," I said, but Karen was already in the kitchen, preparing my plate. As she placed the dish before me, I caught a whiff of the perfume I so loved on her, and it made me want to sit her down on my lap and make love to her. But that was the pleasure of this evening. We had plenty of time. Karen went and got a dish for herself, and sat at the opposite end of the dining room table. As I ate, I kept looking at her, thinking how beautiful she was, how innocent her face looked in the candlelight. And how luscious her breasts looked. Then I realized that she was not eating, just sitting there. How quaint, I thought, and how true to her station. "You may eat, Karen," I announced, and she smiled and set to her dinner. When we had finished the meal (it was pot roast, green beans, and carrots, in case you are interested,) Karen gathered up the plates and served us dessert. I had not prepared dessert, and Karen was free to choose. She brought dishes of ice cream. I was about to take a bite, when I had a perfectly sinful idea, a perfect blend of sensuality and lust. "Karen," I said, "We won't eat dessert just yet. Bring our dishes into the living room, please." I got up, and Karen followed me, ice cream in hand. I asked her to lay the towel out on the floor, and to lay down on it. I had her put her hands behind her head, cross her legs, and ordered her to be still until I finished my dessert. Then I picked up my dish of ice cream, and placed a large ball of it on Karen's navel. She stiffened, and her nipples hardened, and Karen shivered as I ate that first ball, shivered more when I put a second ball in the hollow between her breasts. Only by now the ice cream wasn't so cold, and her shivers were excitement, not chill. I let a bit of cream spill onto her nipple as I lifted the spoon, and felt her spasm a bit, and there was a small smile on her face. When it became impossible to eat with a spoon, I used my fingers to pick up the drippings. I made sure Karen got a good look as I sucked the ice cream off my fingers. I felt perfectly licentious and wanton as I ate and I don't think that ice cream ever again tasted quite as good as it did just then. When I was finished, I announced that it was time for Karen's dessert. I had her stand, and I let her wipe herself dry with the towel. Then I took the towel from her and spread it on the chair. Holding my legs out to her, I ordered her to remove my panties. Once this was done, I lifted my legs over the arms of the chair, and had Karen bring me her dish of ice cream. It was quite melted by now, which suited my purposes perfectly. "Turn around," I said, and I held her hands behind her and bound them together with thongs I had laid out for other purposes. I opened my peignor, removed my bra, and picked up the dish of ice cream. I had Karen turn around and said "Now you can eat your dessert." Whereupon, I began dribbling ice cream on my tits. Karen had chosen dark chocolate fudge for me. Until now, it had been my favorite for the flavor. Now I marvelled at how indecent and strange it looked as it marbled its way around the nipples and aereole. Karen needed no urging. She bent down and began tounging my tits, fighting to keep her balance. While I had read about how sensuous this experience could be, I was unprepared for the luscious feel of the ice cream, the contrast between its liquid chill and the warm breath of my sister against my skin. When Karen had lapped up four or five tablespoons, I made her move downwards, dripping a little cream here and there for her to eat. When she was down on her knees before me, I began dribbling ice cream on my pubic mound, on the soft down, and on the open inner lips. I was so excited, especially when Karen began to lap at my clit, I could swear that I sucked some ice cream into my canal. Karen didn't let up, and that same sensation of chill and warmth excited me to no end. I was absolutely certain I would black out when Karen put her lips to my cunt and began to suck the liquid from my ice cream moisted vaginal canal. But I held on, held on until all the ice cream was gone and I could put the bowl down. Then I grabbed Karen's head and held her tight to me. Her nose was directly upon my clit, and her tounge was as deep inside me as it could get. I began to spasm and squirm and writhe, and I wrapped my legs around Karen's back. If I hurt her when I came, I didn't mean to, despite my proclivities in that area. If she was hurt, she never said a word. Karen was thorough, for once I had come, she proceeded to lick me as clean as she could. This almost set me off again, but I steeled myself to save more orgasms for later in the evening. I would need my strength ... and Karen, God bless her, she'd need hers, too. I pushed her away when I felt I had had enough. Karen looked dejected, but I could see in her eyes that this was just part of the role. I stood, leaving the bra and peignor in the chair, and ordered Karen to stand and stand very still. I was just slightly at a loss, because my original plans had not included the effects of having ice cream smeared all over our bodies. So I ordered Karen to pick up my clothes and follow me to the master bedroom. That was another nice thing about having the house all to ourselves. Instead of the twin bed in my room with the bathroom down the hall, we could use my parent's kingsize bed with the adjoining bathroom. While you might think that the bed was the more promising attraction, I must tell you that the bathroom had promising possibilities of its own. My Dad was a carpenter early in life, and a plumber's helper as well. While those were skills he didn't use in his present job, he did use them around the house. And Mom had always dreamed of a Hollywood bathroom. One where the tub was large and luxuriant, with shower facilities, a bidet as well as a commode, and a vanity. Dad gave her almost exactly what she wanted. He converted an adjoining bedroom into a private bath, and the original bathroom became a closet. The bathroom was always off-limits to us kids, but occasionally Mom would invite us to take a bath as a special treat. I got Mom's permission to use it while they were away. If they had known how I was going to use it ... I sat down at the vanity and after unbinding her hands, I ordered Karen to draw me a bath. While she did that, I took my time looking around for ways to utilize the bathroom creatively. I hit upon an idea which would emphasize our roles. Karen walked up to the bidet and presented her pussy for relief. When she was thru, I did the same, enjoying the pleasant, cleansing rinse the fixture afforded. But before I did, I ordered Karen to turn and face away from me. When I was done, I stood there, waiting. After a few seconds, I said, "Well, Karen?" "Yes?" Karen asked. She was puzzled, and of course I didn't blame her. But of course it made a dandy way of instigating her "punishment" for the night. "You have forgotten to clean me. I thought you might have known to do it, but I guess you'll have to be taught the hard way." I ordered her to come over and take some toilet paper off the roll. "Now wipe me dry, Karen." I held my legs slightly apart as she reached between my legs with the paper. I was ecstatic, not because it had any great physical effect, but because I had finally found something which Karen actually found distasteful. Karen performed the act perfuntorily and without pleasure, and I sensed some disgust in her demeanor. Well, that would come in handy. The bath was now ready. I had Karen remove my garter beld and stockings, and I entered the water. Karen had drawn it perfectly to my liking, but I announced that it was a bit too hot. Karen didn't argue. Now I have to describe this tub. It's incredible. The best analogy I can come up with is a map of the ocean floor. Just off the coast, the shoreline slopes away gently. Then, several miles out, it falls off in a steep cliff. Well, imagine an oval ocean set inside a sloping contintental shelf. That's what this tub is like. Three sides of this marble extravaganza come right up to the bathroom's tile walls, and the square is about seven feet on each side. The tub was a golden marble, the tile walls a rich golden brown. All the fittings were brass, even the shower head. The oval shape, set along the diagonal to the square, leaves plenty of room on the sides for toiletries, even room enough to sit comfortably with feet dangling in the tub. The bottom has depressions into which the human bottom fits quite nicely. You'ld expect this magnificent tub to have glass doors, but it doesn't. Instead, a transparent, two layer curtain runs the length of the open wall. It was specially made so as to hook into either wall, and the inner curtain makes it impossible (well, very difficult, anyway,) for shower water to fall outside the tub. It was wanton in its opulence, as was the whole bathroom. I had no trouble imagining Mom and Dad using it as a lovemaking palace. They had every reason to have declared it off limits. For now, I found the depressions, and settled in gently, bracing myself with my legs against the sides of the tub. I had Karen sit on the side of the tub, and directed her to soap me up. Karen had gotten over the disgust I had subjected her to, and eagerly washed my back and arms and shoulders. I leaned my head back as she moved over my shoulders to my tits, which Karen seemed to linger over longer than was necessary. Then she moved to my feet which I had draped over the sides of the tub. She was about to put the soap and washcloth down when I reminded her that she had missed a few parts of my body. I brought my hips up off the bottom of the tub, and presented my pussy to her washcloth. Then I lowered myself, and allowed her to begin washing my hair. The strangest thing about the evening was how quiet we were with each other. Usually, we were in our roles for less than an hour, more likely thirty minutes. Then we would be making love on my bed, and talking after that. Tonight, Karen had already been my abject slave for two hours. I had never ordered her to refrain from speaking, but Karen seemed to define her submission with that in mind. Despite the excitement of our evening alone, the pleasures of dinner and bath, and the rewards of our mutual lust, I was finding the silence a little eerie. After the bath, I let Karen towel me dry, then I sat at the vanity while she combed and dried my hair. As Karen worked on my hair, I watched her in the mirror. She was intent at the task, speaking seldom, not even to ask me to turn my head. But there was love in the gentle stroking of the combs and brushes thru my raven hair, love in her eyes, too, when I caught her looking up from her handiwork to see us both in the mirror. I felt the urge to gather her to me, cuddle her, kiss her, feel her kissing me, not in her role as my slave, but as Karen, my sister and my love. But there would be time for tenderness later in the evening. My plans for Karen this evening had centered on my parent's enourmous king-sized bed, with its brass headboard and footpanel. But while Karen had bathed me, I had looked at the surroundings and changed my mind. Already the image of Karen at my mercy in the tub was causing me warm, tingling feelings. Karen held a hand mirror and asked if my hair was done to my satisfaction. Her voice drew me back to the present; I had been several minutes into our immediatte future. I looked into the mirror, which reflected my image in the large mirror behind it. I was thrilled. Karen had a way with my hair that I, unfortunately, did not. It was wavy, and though its basic shape was familiar to me, it had more body, framed my face better. It was lovely. But what I said was, "It will do, Karen. Now get into the tub." As usual, Karen did what she was told, and even held her hands behind her back, expecting me to bind her up again. Well, I had that in mind, but in a different way. I pulled her hands in front of her, had her kneel, and had her hold her hands out in front of her, wrists together. After wrapping a doubly-folded washcloth around each wrist, I bound her wrists together tightly with a thick leather thong. Then I pulled her to her feet, (she grunted, but did not complain,) and raised her arms to reach the shower fixture. I had noticed it while bathing, and thought I could put Karen in a rather undignified pose by binding her wrists to it. But the fixture was just a hooking device into which the shower head fit, and it was cemented to the tile, not bolted into the wall. It was not safe. DAMN! I thought, for I could see no other way to make my plan work. Karen was fighting her restraints a bit, for I had made them tight on the theory that they'd loosen when wet. I had to find an anchor soon. And there it was, staring me in the face. On each of the three walls was a soap dish with a tile handle, set at shoulder level. I had wanted Karen to be stretched out upwards, but immediattely saw the possiblities afforded by these handles. I tested them, and they seemd firm. I prayed that they were firm enough to stand up to Karen. I untied her wrists, saw that they had indeed been tight. I tied a thong to each of her wrists, made sure they were tight. Then I tied one wrist to the handle on the left wall, and one wrist to the handle on the far wall. This allowed her to move side to side some, but only slightly. I had worried about her losing her footing, but there was a bathmat which I could place under her feet. I didn't know if this would help, but it certainly improved the look of Karen's helplessness: I tied a thick leather belt around her waist, and tied it to the handle on the left wall. Believe this or not, I think Karen had half expected to be bound up in the shower ever since we had entered Mom's bathroom. One thing she did not expect was that I tossed on my robe at this point, left the bathroom, and left her bound like that for about five minutes. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, and I am sure it heightened her sense of frustration, if not her fear. I gathered up some things I had planned to use in the bedroom. I entered the bathroom, put my booty down on the vanity. I picked up the Polaroid and took three or four pictures of Karen in her humiliating position. I had to fight off the urge to say "Smile!" It would have been terribly out of character. Karen groaned under her breath, but otherwise didn't object. Later, she told me that she, (just as I had been,) had been afraid to move too much, lest she pull one of the soap dishes out of the wall. I was thankful for her restraint. After putting on a shower cap, (I was not about to undo the lovely work Karen had done,) I took down the shower head and turned on the water. I made it comfortably warm, and began to wet Karen down. One of the nice things about the removable shower head was that I could get to all parts of Karen's body, in very unusual ways. Like holding the head fountain like against her chest. Karen liked that, liked it even more when I played the water between her legs. Of course, with Karen bound up, I couldn't exactly order her to wash herself. That was fine with me. I couldn't wait to get my hands on her. First I washed and rinsed her hair thoroughly, taking care not to get soap in her eyes. I had a bit of trouble getting around her, for with her arms spread and her body bent forward, Karen took up most of the tub. But never mind, I simply brushed cheerily up against her body. Using the same scented soap Karen had used to wash me, I lathered up a washcloth and set to the task. This, of course, took a very long time, you understand, as I peppered my talk with comments on how servants just didn't know how to bathe themselves properly. I lathered her arms, her legs, her armpits, her neck, her face. I squeezed in front of her to do her face, and despite her discomfiture, Karen was smiling as I ran the washcloth over her nose, brow and cheeks. One of the very nicest things for me about Karen bound this way was that her normally high, firm breasts were forced to hang down from her chest. They were still firm and round, and the nipples refused to point fully to the floor, even with gravity pulling at them. But they swayed with a gentle, gelatin- like rhythm as I washed her arms and neck and face. I took a moment to hold both of them in my hands, to feel the weight of them against my palms, to feel the hardness of Karen's nipples as I fingered them. At one point, Karen's eyes met mine, and we kissed breifly, but I broke it off, remaining in character. Then I moved to her side, ducking out from under her arm, and lathered up her back, her belly, her rear. I kneeled underneath her to the front and back of her legs, and felt as I did the weight of her tits against the back of my head. I soaped up her pussy very lightly, then came out from under her. I began playing the water over her again, rinsing her off thouroughly. If I let it play longer over her pussy than I had to, Karen didn't seem to mind. I turned the water off and stood back, drawing the shower curtain open. I took a couple of pictures of Karen, still bound, soaking wet. I ordered her to lift her head up high, and she strained against her bonds to do so. The picture captured perfectly her humiliation and helplessness. I took off my shower cap and let my hair hang freely. The fan in the ceiling was creating a nice breeze, pulling cool air in from the bedroom as it sucked the humidity out of the room. I picked up the handcream, and began smoothing it over Karen's body. I smoothed it over her smooth, bent back, up and down her straining arms, down her legs, across her belly. I stood behind her, pushing my naked body up hard against hers, leaning over her back with my arms around her to rub the cream into her hanging tits. Again, I reveled in the feel of the weight of her breasts. I began rubbing her nipples, soft and sensuously until they were rock hard. Karen began to moan, to strain against the leather thongs, and her hips began to grind against mine. I began to pull softly on her nipples, then harder and harder. Karen seemed to feed on the pain, and I fed on Karen's acceptance of her lot. I left one hand on her breast, began to knead it harder and harder, while with my other hand I began wending my way to Karen's delicious pussy. I rubbed my hand thru her pubic hair, then pulled softly at it, and Karen gasped as I began to coordinate my caresses of two disparate parts of her anatomy. I would tweak on her nipple, pulling it out from her chest, until I was sure she was feeling the pain. Then I would let go, and Karen would gasp in pain and releif. When she was just catching her breath, I pulled tightly and rapidly on her pubic hair as it wound around my fingers. Karen would gasp again, and before she caught her breath, my other hand was back on her breast, kneading rather than caressing, digging my fingers hard into her soft flesh. Then I would release her breast and flick my finger hard against her clit. This made Karen jump, would break the rhythm of her bump and grinds. Then I would start caressing her breast again, until her passion rose anew. And again I would stunt it with the nipple tweak, the pubic pull, the breast knead, and the clit flick. I repeated this four times, and could feel Karen trembling, getting weak in the knees. Her breath was ragged and she was begging for release. "Please, please," she cried, but I was not ready to do this for her yet. I began soft stroking her breast, while I disentagled my other hand from her pubes. I placed my foot between her legs and forced them open. With my other hand, I began to explore her pussy, first with soft, gentle gestures upon Karen's clit, slowly working my way down her downy labia until I reached her vaginal passage. It was, as I expected, hot and moist, in clear contrast to the coolness of the air and the water. Karen gasped as I slid my finger in, deep into the moist, jelly-like recesses of her private tunnel. Harder now I played with her nipples, occasionally moving from tit to tit, until both her nipples were hard again. Karen was doing the bump and grind again, more animated now, as I plunged my finger deep inside of her and then, slowly, drew it out, pressing hard on the walls of her cunt as I left her. In and out I went until Karen's rhythm matched the movement of my fingers. I drew my hand away from her breasts, and began to move along her flank slowly and sensuously. I pressed my palm against her clit to heighten her pleasure, still plunging in and out of her. My other hand was caressing her dear, dear derriere, feeling the softness of the newly washed and freshly lotioned skin. Karen was moaning now, softly, her head moving side to side, her eyes closed. I paused slightly in my manipulations of Karen's dear sweet vagina. And then, my middle finger still deep within her cunt, I braced that arm against her belly, drew back my other arm a bit, and brought it down in a wide-handed slap against Karen's rump. Karen started at that, as I expected, she let out a scream, and her entire body stiffened. Thanks be to the powers that be, for the soap dish handles held against her straining. I thought I saw a tear forming in her eye as she looked back over her shoulder, anger and hurt in her eyes. But her body betrayed her, or it fed on the anger, because her hips quickly began their bump and grind again, forcing my finger to do continue its probing. I moved with her again, and drew my arm back again, bringing it down again, widehanded as before, but softer, more gently, a hard love tap. Then a sharp slap again, and she pulled at her bound wrists, tossing her damp hair back and forth as she tried to reconcile herself to both pain and pleasure. I felt the heat rising in my veins as I spanked Karen's rump, could feel the heat rising in her as well. The shock of that first slap had worn off, Karen was now taking each blow as an added incentive to her ecstasy. I decided that the time had come, and I removed my fingers from her cunt and reached for my final surprise. I continued to stroke Karen's rump, caressing it for a long while between the hard love taps. I made sure to circle her little rosebud asshole, made sure to tease her vaginal opening. Karen was still breathing heavily when she heard the whir of my device, and her eyes went wide with delight as I reached between her legs from behind to press the vibrator against the entire length of her pink cleft, the tip of the device resting squarely on her throbbing clit. I drew it back and forth against her cunt, watched her close her eyes, undulate her head, bite her lip gently. She was enjoying this, and so was I. I drew it back and forth, side to side, until her hips were moving slowly and sensuously side to side. I felt my own breath quicken, and I felt my nipples hardening. I stroked her rump, an occasional slap on one round melon or the other, and soon Karen was crying "Please, Please, Please, Sis, let me come!" I drew the vibrator back to her anus, played with it a bit, meanwhile tweaking her tits. Then I moved the vibrator down to her canal, which was hot and moist. I parted her cunt lips with one hand, held them wide open. I felt some trepidation as I proceeded, for now I intended to enter my sister's privates with something much more invasive and impersonal than my finger. I knew Karen felt it too, and I took care to enter her gently. It was a long vibrator, thick as the average cock, and I had covered it with a condom slathered with vaseline. I moved it in a very small amount, gauging my progress by my sister's reactions. Karen was crying now, not from pain, but from frustration and longing. She moaned and bit her lip as I moved the vibrator into her, until an inch and a half of it had dissapperared inside of her. Suddenly, Karen gasped, and moving her hips hard, drove them back hard around the vibrator. Thank god it was over a foot long, for Karen's vaginal contraction pulled it right out of my hand. I grabbed for it, began moving it in and out of her, punctuating my movements with slaps to her butt in time with her own savage thrusts back and forth. Karen was like an animal, growling, snarling, and her tits shook crazily in wide, wanton circles. In four months of bondage, spanking, and lovemaking, I had never seen Karen like this. If I hadn't been so excited, I might have had time to be frightened. But I kept moving the vibrator, watching Karen's labia grip it as I drew it out, watching it being pulled from my grasp as she drew it in with her own inner resources. And thru it all I continued the hard love taps on her rump, until Karen let out a bloodcurdling scream, spasming and writhing as she did so. I saw her hands clench into fists, felt her body stiffen, shudder. I figured she had come. I was wrong. Karen pushed her hips back hard against me, as if to say she expected more. I didn't even think about what I did next. I moved behind her, pressing against the vibrator with my body, my legs tight and together. The flat end of the vibrator was just above my own clit, and I used that to excite me (not that I needed much more help at that point,) and to keep the vibrator anchored in Karen's cunt. I reached around her to hold her tight to me, cupped her tits in my hands, rolling the nipples around in exactly the way I knew she adored. Karen continued thrusting back and forth, drawing the vibrator in and out as much as she could, though it wasn't much with me hard against her. And I held on tight, kept moving in rythem with her. I could feel my own pent-up orgasm welling up from deep inside me. Then Karen was groaning and her thrusts became shudders. Against my arms about her I could feel her stomach muscles tighten, even feel the vibrations race across her belly. And against my cunt I could feel the vibrator as it shook along with Karen, and it felt damned, fucking wonderful. Suddenly I was shuddering, too, uncontrollably, as the red fire enveloped me and all my body. Karen was crying out my name, crying out "YES, YES, FUCK ME!" as we both rode out the orgasm, and I tried to support her as much as hold on, for I knew we would both be weak in the knees. I lost sight of Karen, the bathroom, and everything else when the blackness hit me, and I held on to Karen's hips for dear life. If felt like many minutes, but it was only a few seconds before I came to, and before the weakness hit me, I moved to untie my sister from the tub handles. I gently removed the vibrator as I pulled away, and Karen gasped appreciatively as it left her love canal. I untied one hand, and Karen pulled me to her with her newly freed arm. Our lips met in a fiery kiss, Karen's tounge deep into my mouth, practically sucking breath from me. I returned the kiss with equal fervor, and somehow managed to untie her other wrist as I did so. I didn't even break the kiss as I maneuvered her back to the wall so that I could untie her waist. And at that point, Karen attacked me. Not with violence, but with her body, her passion, her love. And I let her. I was more than willing to have her as my equal for a while. I let her move me out of the tub, I let her push me gently into the bedroom, where our parents' turned-down bed awaited us. I saw her pick up the vibrator out of the corner of my eye, and we fell together, still embracing, onto the bed. We indulged in kissing each other for a very long time, the only other contact being our arms behind each others backs. Karen's long fingers stroked thru my hair, and I lost myself in the feel of her tounge and lips. Soon she was moving down my chest to kiss and suck on my pointy tits, with her arms still around my neck and her hands still stroking my face. I remember kissing her fingers one by one, sucking them as if they were little cocks or large clits. Karen's body was warm against mine, and the feel of the meeting of our skin was indescribable. I felt her tits hanging hard against my belly, felt her hips forcing my thighs wide open. I felt as if I was melting into her, as if we'd become one single body, forever embracing. Then her arms were leaving my neck, and her lips were moving from my nipples to the hollow between my breasts, and her tounge weaved a snakelike pattern down my chest and belly. Now she was forcing my legs open with her entire body, and I was in heaven anticipating where Karen would go from here. Then her hands were cupping my breasts, rolling my nipples, teasing them into hardness. And her mouth was down around my pubes, her shoulders forcing my legs as wide as they would go. I was lost in her tounging of my cunt when I felt the cool plastic of the vibrator causing ripples of sensation along the skin of my tits. Slowly Karen pushed the tip against my nipples, and I put my hands behind my head so as not to impede her. I drew my knees up to anchor myself, and Karen wrapped her arms about my legs, pulling her mouth closer still to my dripping labia. Then her arm was encircling my leg and the vibrator had moved between my legs. Karen was teasing my clit with it even as her tounge darted into my cunt, parting my inner lips, spreading her nectar and mine along my insides. The familiar warm feeling spread through me, and suddenly my hands were no longer on my head but on Karen's, holding her hard to her task of pleasuring me. Then I was shuddering and crying out, "Yes, Karen, yes, go, do it, fuck me, suck me!" I was like a madwoman, and when Karen moved to move the vibrator into me, I was in heaven or hell, take your pick. Her tounge lapped at my clit while she moved the vibrator in and out, and there was pleasure, too, in simply knowing that the condom-covered instrument had only minutes before been deep inside the body of this young woman I loved so completely. It did not take long before I was writhing in ecstacy. When it was over, I pulled her to me, and we cuddled on the bed, whispering words of love that only women can speak. We entwined our arms, our legs, our hands, even our toes. The skin of Karen's thigh felt cool against the blood-engorged skin of my cunt, and I delighted in the feel of her soft down against my leg. She was so much prettier than I was, yet I was not jealous, for that prettiness was mine to have and to hold. And I, for her, was the catalyst to arouse her passions and her fantasies, the woman who was always there for her. I laughed suddenly. "What's so funny?" asked Karen, while she nuzzled my neck. "You're still wet. And so are those thongs you're still wearing." I ran my hand thru her damp mop of hair. "Let's get this dry!" And I pulled her into the bathroom by her waist thong. We laughed as we caught an image of ourselves in Mom's full-length mirror, and we took two Polaroids of ourselves standing side by side in Mom's tub as souveniers. While drying her hair, Karen asked me, "What time is it, Sis?" Karen wouldn't even allow me to comb her hair. Parodying her own submissive role, she had said, with a mock English accent, "Why, no, ma'am, I couldn't let you do that for me!" I was surprised to find that it was only just nine o'clock. I asked Karen to guess the time. "Ten or eleven?" "Nine!" "Yikes! That early? What'll we do?" I had no doubt that we would think of something. The rest of our evening alone was a monument to wanton decadance. We retired to the den, lit a few candles, and sat togther watching romantic movies on our VCR. We ate chocolates and popcorn and more ice cream. I wore only my black peignor, lightly tied. I had offered Karen a lacy blue nightie from my wardrobe, but she refused, saying, "Oh, no, ma'am, I couldn't wear your gowns, oh no." She was serious this time, not mocking, and I realized she was asking us to return to our roles. So I took up my dominant tone and informed Karen that if she didn't think herself good enough to wear my nightgown, she could remain naked all night. Though her eyes were downcast, I caught the faint glimpse of a smile. So I ordered her to dress me again in my peignor, which was all I felt like wearing. The robe covered me from neck to toe, but it was absolutely sheer and hid nothing. If anything, it accentuated my nakedness. I had Karen afix the frog catch at its neck, and I let it remain that way so that as I walked, it separated and trailed behind me. Karen I adorned in a makeshift harness of leather thongs. One I tied about her waist in such a way that the loose end could be brought up thru the her crotch, under the waist loop in front, and then up to her neck where I made a large loop anchored with a non-slip lock. I didn't want her to choke if I choose to lead her around by the harness. I got another, thinner thong, and looped it thru the slip knot behind her back, then tied both her wrists to the ends. This left her able to move about freely, but I could imobilize her if I so chose. I brought her down to the kitchen, had her hold her arms out to her sides with dishes of food in each, and took another Polaroid for posterier ... I mean, posterity. We settled into the big sofa in the den, and Karen served me all night. At one point, I watched Karen coming from the living room and realized that the harness had some significance to our relationship beyond bondage. For the cross it made at her waist, and the neck loop which ended in a V at the hollow between her breasts formed a variation of that ancient Egyptian fertility symbol, the Ankh. It was nine thirty when Mom called to find out how we were doing. While I assurred her that we were doing quite fine, (just how fine, I was not about to say,) Karen began kissing and sucking at my tits. It took every bit of willpower to resist doing or saying anything about it. But I got back at her ... Mom asked to talk to Karen, and while she gave Karen a dollop of advice about her slumber party, I reached down and slipped my finger underneath the leather thong and began fingering Karen's clit. Karen held on to her composure on the phone, but her body shook so much, I could feel the couch vibrating. It was inevitable that we would make love again. Sitting beside each other, we found it impossible to keep our hands from roaming over each others' body. At one point, I was running my hand from one tit to another when my fingers caught on the cord which ran to her crotch. Karen gasped in delight, and I realized that there was a delightful fringe benefit to my harness. I reached behind her, and pulled gently at the cord where it met the waistband. Karen gasped again. I pulled the wrist thongs until I had both her hands behind her, and formed a tight grip on all three strands. Pulling gently in erratic rhythms caused the thong to rub along Karen's clit, which at that point was all she needed to be rocketed to orgasm. When I finally let loose my grip, Karen was breathing heavily after a series of explosive orgasms. The room was heavy with her odor and the leather thong was damp between her legs. On her face was a smile which could only mean one thing ... she was totally satisfied. Well, I wasn't satisfied. After watching Karen go thru one orgasm after another, crying and moaning and groaning, had left me one horny mistress. I wrapped the loose wrist cords around her wrists so that they were partially immobilized, and pulled Karen to her feet by the harness. I ordered her into the living room, where I made her lie down on her stomach and then tied her ankles together. Then I lit a candle, sat down on the floor fifteen feet away across the room, and spread my legs wide. I felt entirely wanton and perverse as I whispered into the dimness, "Come, Karen, eat me!" Karen was a wonder. She didn't seem to care what sort of use I put her to, so long as there was an orgasm or a spanking involved. Which one of us got to come didn't seem to matter either. She pulled herself snakelike across the rug until her head was between my thighs, and reached out with her tounge to massage my pussy. I rested my legs on her back, and with one of my feet, I caught hold of the cord around her waist. When I tugged on it, I could hear her gasp and feel her shudder. I reached down with one hand, held my labia open so that Karen could more easily kiss and suck the pink inner lips, and Karen obliged me once again by darting her tounge against my clit and then dropping down to dart deep into my cunt. I played with my tits breifly, but found myself drawn to watch Karen as she writhed around on the ground, her legs kicking in unison, her tits mashed against the floor, her hands straining to get out of the mass of thongs I had wrapped them in. And soon I couldn't even watch, for the preassure built up inside me to the breaking point. I came, and I came, and I came, until I felt as if I would pass out. But I didn't, I simply cried out into the candle-lit room and grabbed Karen's shoulders, noticing that she was coming too. For I realized that she was not trying to get her hands out of the harness, she was actually pulling at the harness as I had done, to bring herself to orgasm wiht me. And that we did. Together, in one massive spasm, both of us came, both of us cried out, both of us moaned, both of us felt the familiar orgiastic pattern of our muscles as they contracted and expanded until both of us collapsed in delerious bliss. As if to say goodbye, Karen cupped my clit with her lips and kissed it lightly before falling away from me. I pulled her to me, and we lay there for a long, long time. I cradled her head in my lap, stroking her face which was moist with my own love juice. Karen licked my fingers as they passed over her mouth. We dozed off that way, Karen still bound, and me with my peignor draped over us both. It was nearly two in the morning when I awoke suddenly, aware of the darkness. Funny how something like a candle burning out can wake you. I jostled Karen. She somehow got to her feet, and tried to follow me to Mom's bedroom. This was not easy, for her ankles were still tied. After a few feet, I lifted her into my arms, and carried her to the now-rumpled bed. Karen never really woke up. I untied her ankles, undid her wrists. I left the harness on, though. It was such a nice piece of work.