What Are Sisters For?

(Author's Note: This story contains elements of incest, lesbian sex, and transgender sex. If any of these are offensive to you then this might not be a story for you. Also, there is a bit of character and story development before the "action" really starts, so if you're looking for a quick stroke-story you might also be disappointed. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it!)

"...and so now we're going to lose the house. I don't know what to do. Riley, is there any way you can help us?" my sister asked me, finally coming to the end of her latest sob story. I gave a long-suffering sigh.

"I really don't think I can, Grace," I told her, and she let out a strangled whimper. Just so you don't think I'm a complete heartless bitch, let me explain. The word my sister forgot to add at the end of her plea was

again

. A very important word, again. The truth is, I had been bailing my sister out of trouble for years. Her and her husband both. Together they don't have the business sense or financial responsibility of a concussed duckling. For years they were borrowing money regularly; they'd be behind with their bills, one of them would lose their job, or some emergency would pop up. They'd pay us back, usually, but no sooner had they than they'd be in trouble again. Whenever they did manage to get ahead, they'd spend it frivolously and end up right back where they started.

My husband, Ben, never said anything but I could tell he was getting tired of it, too. I was beginning to feel like a doormat myself. He wouldn't talk much about it, insisted it was my sister so my choice. Having had enough, I told him I wanted to break the cycle. We talked it over and came to a decision.

The next time Grace came to me for money, $5,000 to pay the property taxes on the house they couldn't afford, I sat my sister down and explained it to her. I gave her a check for $50,000. I told her it was a gift, not a loan, but it was absolutely the last one. That was nine months ago.

"Grace, what happened to the money we gave you?" I swear I

heard

her wince.

"I, we tried to start a business...it didn't work out." Obviously. "It was a flower shop."

"A flower shop?"

"Well, yeah. And, we had other expenses!" she said, starting to sound defensive. I sighed into the phone again.

"Grace, look, I'm sorry your flower shop didn't work out..."

"It's not just that, James got laid off."

James, her husband, was pretty useless. He's had seven jobs in five years, and only one had he left voluntarily.

"I understand, and I'm sorry. But we can't keep doing this, we discussed it, and Ben agrees."

"It's not like you can't afford it," she said, her voice starting to show a little anger.

"That's not the point, Grace."

"I can't believe you won't help us, after all the times I helped you!" The last time I remember Grace helping me was when I was seven, and she put a Band-Aid on my skinned knee.

"I'm sorry, Grace," I told her again, "but we just can't." From there, the conversation pretty much degenerated. Soon she was yelling, crying, and even name-calling. I tried to stay calm and rational, but I could only put up with so much. Finally I apologized again, told her I still loved her, and hung up.

She called again twenty minutes later; then again fifteen minutes after that. I let the voice mail answer. After the third call I turned off my phone. Then she started calling my office, but I had my admin tell her I was unavailable.

I felt awful. I really do love her, I even

like

her most of the time. Playing her safety net was getting old, though. And her acting like she was entitled to it, and getting mad when I told her no, really pissed me off. I really want her to be all right, but I'm not going to let her use me—especially not with that attitude.

I spent so much time brooding over Grace and her problems that I was late leaving work. Before I left, I checked my voice mail and listened to her messages. They started out still angry. After the first few she started getting apologetic. Then she was begging, asking for help or just a place to stay "until they're back on their feet." That's not something I foresaw happening. I was late enough that Ben actually beat me home.

"Your sister called," he told me as I came in, "six times."

"She needs money, again," I said with a sigh. Then I gave him a rundown of her current crisis.

"A flower shop?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"Yeah, well, my sister is a little flaky. I could actually see her doing well with a flower shop, as long as it didn't involve money."

"Aren't the older sisters supposed to be the responsible ones?"

"I guess no one told Grace."

"So, what'd you tell her?"

"I told her no. We agreed: Last time was the end."

"Yeah, but it's hard to say no when someone needs help."

"That's just the thing," I told him, "I'm not really sure giving her money

is

help. It's more like just throwing it away. She doesn't need a loan, she needs a keeper—her and her waste of space husband."

"Well, there's an idea..."

"What?"

"Just, it's not like you've never taken over someone's life before, you know."

At first I didn't get it, then I blinked in surprise. "You're

not

serious," I said.

"Well, no, I wasn't. But, you could, you know."

"She's my

sister

."

"And?"

I'm pretty sure he was just teasing, or at least mostly teasing, and that should have been it. But, once he put it there the damn idea just wouldn't leave my head. It would solve the problem, and let me help her without being a doormat. I have to admit part of me liked the idea too. She'd probably get an attitude adjustment out of it as well.

I talked it over more with Ben. He didn't mind, and thought it might even be a good idea, but insisted it was up to me.

"It doesn't really matter; I can't see her going along with it," I said

"Maybe, but you don't know. So decide if it's something you want to do. If it isn't, then it doesn't matter and we just forget it. If it is, ask her. It's that simple."

I couldn't seem to forget it, so that left asking her. I was almost sure she would refuse. But, as they say, there was only one way to find out. After making up my mind, I decided to go over and talk to her about. I'd call tomorrow and set it up for the next day.

---

The next day was Thursday. I got to work early, and spent some of the morning making arrangements, and working out details, in case Grace decided to accept my offer.

Around eleven, I gave Grace a call back. Her husband answered, his voice rough with sleep. Laid off, house in jeopardy, and is he out bright and early looking for work? Of course not.

When Grace got on the phone, she immediately tried to go into her rehearsed apology.

"Look, I can't talk long now," I said, "I have a meeting soon. There is something I want to talk over with you, it may be a solution of sorts. Can I come by tomorrow?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"Tomorrow, say three-thirty or four," I told her, then made my goodbyes. I had a couple errands to run, and arrangements to make, but it looked like everything would be ready tomorrow.

That night over dinner I told my husband what I had decided. He just chuckled and said again that it was up to me. We went over the specifics a bit more, and he teased me about it a little, but it was in good fun.

The next day I left work a little early so I could stop off at home, change clothes, and gather up everything I might need. I stuffed it all in a brown leather carry-all and headed to see my sister—and maybe change her life.

James answered the door and promptly eyed me up. I was worth I look. I was dressed in snug black leather pants and a tight, sleeveless red t-shirt. While looking me over, his eyes locked on the bag and he blinked.

"You brought it in cash?" he asked, dumbly.

"No," I told him, my voice cold. Before he could say more, though, Grace saw me in the doorway.

"Riley! Come in," she told me, and I pushed past James. She came up and gave me a quick hug. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten upset with you..."

"It's not important," I assured her, "But we do have a something to discuss."

"Of course."

We moved into the living room. I dropped my bag on the table and sat in the big recliner. Grace's lips pursed when she heard the brass feet on the bag click against the table, but I ignored her; this conversation wasn't going to go a way she liked and we best make that clear from the beginning. I stayed silent for a couple minutes, giving them time to stew. Finally, Grace broke the silence.

"You said you thought you could help us?" She began tentatively.

"No," I corrected her, "I said I might have a possible solution."

"But, doesn't that mean..."

"No, I'm not here to give you money. I told you we weren't doing that again, I meant it. We can't keep bailing you out. I'm not even convinced doing it again would count as help. How many times have we been through this? And each time you always end up back in the same position."

Grace looked sad, and a little hurt. I felt bad for her, but that didn't make any of it less true. James, though, looked like he was getting angry. Like he couldn't believe the gall I had to not fall over myself and throw money at him.

"No, money isn't a solution."

"Then what?"

"This probably isn't going to be anything you want, or even anything you want to hear, but it's only fair that you're given the option."

"What option?"

"I'll get to it, first I want to explain some things." She nodded, and I went on, "Ben and I love each other."

"What does this have to do with us?"

"I told you, I'll get to it. Just listen, ok? Like I said, we love each other, but we're not a hundred percent compatible, sexually."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, just us together sexually, and we'd either be unsatisfied, unhappy, frustrated, or some combination of the three. One of the main things is we're both just too dominant, we both want to take charge, so at least one of us isn't getting all they want out of sex with each other. We also both have interests the other can't completely satisfy."

Grace looked confused, but was listening, so I went on.

"So, to keep us both happy and together, we worked out arrangements where we could each have other partners."

"What arrangements?" James asked with a bit of a smirk.

"The specifics aren't important right now," I told him with a glare. "What is," I said, "is that one of the things we did was to find submissives that we could play with. Some were just friends or acquaintances who were interested in that kind of thing, and at the end went home and back to their lives. Others we took in, and took charge of, and basically we were in control of 24/7."

Grace still had a perplexed look, but also looked uneasy. I don't know if she didn't like the subject of conversation or if she had an inkling of where it was going. James looked just as clueless as ever and even had a bit of a faraway look on his eyes. Probably perving to some fantasy about me having sex with the people I mentioned.

"All of which brings me back to now. Gracie," I told her gently, "you don't need money. Giving you money won't solve your problem; it'll just delay it for another couple of months. What you do need is someone to take care of you. When I was talking this over with Ben, he mentioned that this was something we had done for others before. There's not much reason we shouldn't offer it to you, too."

"You're kidding?" James asked, finally getting it. But, we both ignored him for now.

"What do you mean? I don't understand," Grace said.

"If you want, you can come live with us, we'll take care of you. In exchange, you'll do what you're told. It's really not much different from a job, but you get room, board, and all your needs taken care of instead of a salary."

"What, like a maid?"

"There may be things like that you have to do, but no, not like a maid. Grace, I'm talking about slavery. You would be a sex slave."

She sat back suddenly, eyes wide with shock. It had been staring her in the face, but she had refused to see it. When she finally did she couldn't believe it.

"This is some kind of joke, right?" she asked me.

"No, Grace. I'm completely serious."

"But how? Why?"

"How," I said with a small smile, "is pretty obvious. But why? Really, it's mostly to help you. I do want to help you, even if it doesn't look like it. But, I don't want to just throw money away either. This gets you out of your current crisis, and breaks the cycle you've been in. You can't keep going like this, and I don't know of how else to help you."

"Write us a check," James broke in with an indignant voice.

"No," I said coldly, "I might as well stack money up and light it on fire. You can't handle it, you can't do anything with it, giving it to you is the same as throwing it away."

With that, Grace started quietly crying as the weight of reality settled onto her. She was in trouble, knew it, and this time someone wasn't going to just hand her enough money to make it go away.

"I'm sorry, Grace," I said with a sigh. "I knew you wouldn't like the idea, but I felt I had to tell you. I'll just go."

I started to get up, and made to grab my bag, but then Grace said, "Wait."

"What?" James asked.

"Why?" I said at the same time.

"I should at least hear it all, tell me the details."

"You can't be serious," James said.

"Be quiet," she told him firmly, and I heard steel in her voice.

"Are you sure?" I asked her.

"Yes... Some of what you said was true, even if I didn't want to admit it. I should at least hear you out. I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me..."

"Please, just tell me."

"Ok, but it's not terribly complicated. You sign over everything: property, assets, power of attorney, the works. We give you a room, food, and all your necessities. We'll take care of you. In exchange, you give obedience, and do what you're told."

"What kind of things?"

"Really, you'd have to be willing to accept almost anything. You'll have to do whatever you're told, even how to dress, what to eat, what do. And sex, of course. With whoever you're told, however you're told. There will be regular sex, some bondage, spanking and the like. Some of it you might not like, some might even hurt some, but you'll never be injured or really hurt. Like I said, we'll take care of you. And, some of it you

might

like, too."

She nodded a little distractedly, cheeks a little pink. "What about James?" she asked after a couple moments. I grimaced a little, not bothering to hide my disdain.

"It wouldn't be fair to make you choose," I said, "so he's included in the offer, provided he agrees to exactly the same terms as you. That's assuming that's what you want."

"I love him," she said.

"Ok. Like I said, he's included, then." Her next question surprised me.

"Do you think I should do it?"

"What?"

"Well, you're still my sister, right? So tell me." I gave that a bit of thought.

"Probably not," I said with a sigh. "If it's not something you're into, or want, you'll probably be miserable. And you're not completely without other options, either. You can liquidate your assets, declare bankruptcy, apply for government aid, and things like that. None of it would be very fun, but they're options."

Nodding her head with a faraway look in her eyes, Grace seemed to close down for a couple minutes. She was obviously thinking, but she didn't give any clues what direction her thoughts were taking her. After several minutes of quiet reflection, she spoke again.

"We'll do it." I was too surprised to speak at first, but James wasn't.

"What? Are you crazy? We're not going along with this shit," he shouted.

Grace gave him a considering look, then turned to me and said, "Excuse us a moment? We need to talk this over." I nodded and she turned back to her husband and said, "James, come in here," and led him into the kitchen. On the way there she paused, turned to me again and said, very deliberately, "

I'm

going to do it. We'll be right back."

James followed reluctantly after here. They were gone for several minutes. I heard his voice rise several times, but couldn't make out what was said. Whatever Grace had to say, she said it quietly.

When they returned, Grace looked at James expectantly. There was some hesitation, and then he said, "I'm sorry. I would like to accept your offer too; it was very generous of you to include me." His teeth were practically gritted as he forced the last part out, and I couldn't help but smile.

"When do we start, then?" my sister asked me.

"Grace, are you absolutely sure about this?" She gave me a nod. "Right now, then." I opened up my bag and withdrew a file folder. Opening it up, I handed them each a small stack of papers. "These are release and consent forms. Fill them out. There will be more paperwork, but we'll do that with a lawyer later."

They started to go through the forms. James scowling as he read through them, but Grace's expression was blank as she filled them out, and barely seemed to skim most of them. When they had finished, I gathered up the papers and put them away. Standing, said to them, "Come with me," and led them into their bedroom.

I tossed my hold-all on the bed and started going through the drawers. Grace watched me passively, but James was giving me a dirty look. He'd get his soon enough. I found Grace's underwear drawer and started removing things, forming piles on the bed. Then I sprawled across the bed. My sister continued to look inscrutable, not even commenting about my boots on her bedspread.

"Change, both of you, Grace the pile on the right is yours," I said.

"Where's mine?" James asked. I just pointed to the other pile. His eyes widened and he said, "I can't wear those!"

"Oh, yes you can. I'd suggest getting used to them." He paled at that, but moved to take them. Grace already had her selection and was moving away.

"Tsk," I said, "No, no. Change right here." She said nothing, merely met my eyes and started to undress. She didn't try and make it a tease, but in a way her simple, unadorned movements made the act more appealing. She unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off. Then reached back, unclasped her bra and let it drop making no move to cover herself. Next came her pants, and socks, then finally she was pulling down her panties and stepping out of them. She dressed in the same economical motions, and soon stood before me in white socks, a white t-shirt thin enough to show off her nipples, and pink panties with white hearts.

Grace was redressed before James had finished undressing. He was moving haltingly, and half-turning away in a poor attempt to preserve his modesty. I looked him over as he reached for the clothes.

"Wait," I told him. I fished a zippered pouch out of my bag and headed toward the bathroom. "Come with me, both of you."

I opened the pouch and handed James a tube of depilatory cream.

"Use this," I said. "Put it on your face and everything from the neck down. Grace, help him get the places he can't reach." I sat on the sink as they went to work. It was obviously humiliating for James, but he went along with it. Not that he had all that much body hair to begin with. When they had finished, and washed the cream and the hair off, I handed them hair inhibitor spray and gel.

"You'll be doing this regularly," I explained as they worked, "at least for a few months. After that it might be permanent." After, we all trooped back into the bedroom and watched James get dressed in his wife's underwear. He was wearing a silky black camisole, a lacy black thong with matching garter belt, and black stockings—Grace had to help him put on the stockings.

Once I had them dressed, I pulled a couple pill bottles from the bag. I poured a pill form each into my hand and held them out.