06

As always, everyone is over 18. There are non-con and incest themes. These chapters are a bit slower, but the tension is simmering and leads to...*ahem*...guess you'll find out! Enjoy responsibly!

Chapter 5

What the actual fuck.

She thought, sitting loose-limbed on her bed back at home.

Emma came straight home after that incident, ditching her last class and went straight to her room.

She stripped off her clothes, weirdly too embarrassed to shower and bundled herself in soft pajamas and blankets.

"Oh my

fucking GOD!

" She buried her face in her pillow and screamed. What in high hell had possessed her? Why the hell had she kept talking? So much? So stupid! "Nooooooo...."

She spent hours screaming and punching the pillow and crying, thinking about Jonah's stupid face and how fucking mean he was, and how embarassed she was and--

Pretty soon, her dad called up the stairs. "Dinner's hot!"

She heard Jonah leave his room, thumping down the stairs. She would

fucking die.

So, she yelled down. "Already ate. Busy!" and buried her face again.

After dinner, she heard Jonah stepping unhurriedly back up stairs. Her eyes fixed on the door half expecting him to just walk in, but his footsteps only continued.

In a few minutes, she'd slowed her breathing, and decided to get up.

He told her to come to his room tonight.

What the fuck did that mean?

All that pent-up horniness had fizzled out to concentrated shame, but as much as she wished and wished it wasn't real...it really,

really

was.

She tiptoed outside his room, and stood there like an idiot until she finally let herself knock.

"Come in."

She walked in to find Jonah in his usual position, feet kicked up onto his bed, and propped against his headboard with his laptop angled towards her in his lap. He didn't even look up.

"Um...hi?"

"Sit."

The chair for his desk was still missing, probably moved downstairs in front of the Xbox. So, the only place to sit was his bed.

She spoke uncharacteristically fast. "Uh, yeah, no. I just figured I'd let you know, we can both just totally forget anything that might've happened, or not and just continue to live very separate, estranged lives. Never talking and agreeing to show up on Christmas for Mom. Cool? Thanks. Awesome. Glad we had this talk,

byeeee...

."

But as she turned to walk back out the open door, he snapped. "Sit. Down. And shut the damn door."

His tone brokered no argument, so she turned back around, hugging her arms. "Jonah..."

But he glared, so she shut the door and took a seat on the very edge of his bed.

He moved the laptop to the side, scooching once towards her. She struggled to find a place to rest her eyes, and burst out. "It was a mistake! Everybody makes mistakes. You didn't really want to, and I didn't really want to and it was a total accident, and a case of mistaken identity and--"

"Shut up." His tone wasn't loud, but cold, and Emma started to fidget.

"Do you remember that time you caught me with a six-pack when I was like 17? Drinking out in the shed?"

"Um, yeah?"

"What did you do?"

Um," she tried to remember...glancing towards Jonah's set brow. "I made you do my history final. I got an A."

He nodded. "And?"

She shrugged, sighing. "And?"

"And you held it over my head for months. Made me pick up all your chores. Drive you and your stupid friends to the movies and shit."

"Well yeah, but this is different!" She widened her eyes at him. "This is seriously fucked up!"

"Damn right it is." He leaned back, retrieving his laptop once more like the discussion was over. "Welp, congratulations. You can pick up my portion of the rent and all my chores as well. And there are going to be rules."

"

What?

" She spat, speaking frantically. "You--you're

insane.

You think you'll be less fucked than me?" She stood up. "If you tell people I fucked my brother, you're the

fucking brother

, dumbass!"

He was unbothered by her outburst, typing something and fixed on his screen, but seemed to consider. "Hmm...no."

"No?"

"No."

Emma just started to shake her head, fast little denials. "No...no. No! Nope. Fuck you. No."

"You certainly did."

"Ew, my God." She pressed her fingers to her temples, turning around, and cracking the door. "You're--I'm fucking not having this conversation, I don't even know what the--"

The sound from his speakers came alive and she froze, dropping her hand from the doorknob. Moaning...wantan, high-pitched moans like a professional fucking porn played loud.

Oh, God.

She braced to hear her own voice...the things she'd played over and over again in her mind, regretting them. But it was his that came first...but...different. He'd modified it somehow, but it didn't sound fake, just...not Jonah. He started in the middle of a sentence.

"...you're a real slut. You want Daddy."

Her reaction in the audio was immediate and...oh my god.

"You want Daddy's cock? Hmm, Emma?"

She couldn't believe how fucking

loud

, how

desperate...holy fucking Christ.

"Beg me. Beg."

"Oh please! Please, please. Fuck me! I need --i need --"She buried her face in her hands, listening to Jonah ordering her over the recording.

"Do better."

There was a little pause just long enough for Emma to notice she was shaking like a leaf in her brother's doorway, and it only got worse. She covered her ears, but her voice was too loud to block out.

"Please! Please, I need your big cock inside me. I need my big brother to fuck me and make me cum again all over his huge cock. Cause I'm a desperate whore and I want --!"

"Oh my god." She said out loud. The wet, messy sounds of her fingering her own pussy filled up the space, and she knew the image showed her writhing on the floor in a way that was entirely unhinged.

"Daddy! I want you so badly. Pretty please! Fuck me!"

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

At some point, her vision blurred, and she made her way slowly down onto all fours on his bedroom floor.

"Oh, God. Oh, God."

Mercifully, Jonah cut the audio, and she crawled forward an inch, pressing the door closed once more in its sturdy frame. Her breaths came erratic, and she felt herself shuddering. It was so much worse...

soo much worse

than she thought it was.

Bad, bad, bad. This was bad.

"You know..." Jonah started speaking and her distress made his voice warp and dim. "While you were in there feeling sorry for yourself, I started thinking about the best place to release your little debut."

She was panting at the floor, pressing a hand to her chest, because she couldn't breathe. "Jonah..."

"I think I have the perfect venue."

Her head snapped up and she turned her body back towards him, looking up at his face. "Jonah...please."

"You remember those slide shows for dad's company? At the end of their quarter. You ever see those?" Horror stopped her from shaking her head; she couldn't even get off the floor. Jonah kept going. "It's like 100 dudes in suits, all staring at shitty graphs and bullet points. Dad's presenting this quarter. If it goes well...he'll probably get a promotion. If not..."

She was just shaking...she couldn't understand. How could he...?

"Come here." She looked up again to find him scooching his legs over the edge of his bed, and felt a wave of nausea as his feet firmly hit the floor. He gestured between his legs, and she understood exactly where he intended her to sit. She eyed the space in front of him. Replayed the sound of her voice. Looked up at his serious expression. He tapped his foot twice on the floor, and she started crawling.

"Good girl." His voice was playful. "What a good little sister."

When she got to him, he settled her between his legs, and took a fistful of hair from the side of her head between his fingers. "Ow!"

"Get used to it, slut."

She looked up, pleading in her eyes. "Please, Jonah. I can't do this." But if anything, it made him squeeze her hair harder. She hissed.

"I thought about that too." He spoke so assuredly that fear pooled in her belly, threatening to overflow. "I thought about just how far you'd go to keep our little secret..." He tilted her head with his fingers in her hair, and leaned down to look her directly in the eye. "I don't think there are limits, Emma. I think you're going to do whatever I tell you, because if you don't..."

He just trailed off, and Emma couldn't stop tears from breaching the corners of her eyes. She half-shouted. "I'm

sorry!

I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm a stupid, desperate slut. I'm sorry for what happened. I'm sorry for tattling about the stupid beer and the--"

"Shh..." He cooed. Suddenly inexplicably gentle...he brushed his fingers through her hair, tilting her chin up to wipe away her tears. Emma hiccupped on a sob, calming as she misunderstood his gentleness for softness.

"I'm sorry,

Sir.

" He corrected.

Her heart stopped. Her world crashed. He was

...blackmailing

her.

Jonah waited, looking in her eyes like he had the patience of a saint.

Her eyes slid down as a sickly resignation settled, and she spoke to his chest, forcing each word. "...I'm...sorry...Sir..."

"Mm," he toned approvingly. "Now, smile for the camera." Confusion mixed with her swirl of emotions, and he directed her gaze to his still open laptop, with the camera light blinking. "Say hi. You're live..."

She fought his grip to look up at his face. He was so, extremely serious.

Her mind flickered through images of what had happened, what she had said since she walked in his door..working on the damn laptop. "I--I haven't...I haven't done anything."

"Mmm, that's right. If people want to know what happens next, they have to subscribe."

"Sub...scribe?"

In the same moment, he reached over and shut the laptop, killing the blinking light that designated a live cam.

Emma just stared at it, really not understanding. How much of that was show? Was it a cruel trick? Had anyone even been on the other end, or was it a recording to nobody? Did anyone see her face? Did--

"Emma." Jonah snapped her back to attention. "I'm serious."

"I--don't...understand..." She spoke so haltingly, and her brain was working on a lag. She sank down, instead of kneeling, now sitting on the soles of her feet.

Jonah slid down with her, taking her close to his chest. "Shh..."

"I don't understand."

"Oh, yes you do."

She just shook her head, closing her eyes to ward off the dizziness, and let him hold her like the time her first crush rejected her for the Valentine's dance...like the time her best friend ditched her for a more popular group of friends. "Jonah...please."

"No. Stop it. You're a dick of a sister...generally, a little asshole...

And

you're a

fucking

tease." Genuine anger came through, and she flinched as his body jerked.

"But--"

"I said no."

She hit his leg, once hard, and he growled. He nearly reached up and ripped into her hair again, but she saw him hesitate as he clenched his fist in the air. When he spoke, his voice was calm. "You're not going to do that anymore. No more clawing, or slapping, or hitting. No more being fucking rude, or getting me in trouble. I don't want you to act weird or start like...I dunno...fucking calling me Sir in public."

"Oh my God--"

Then he did lace his fingers in her hair, but it was more of a warning. He breathed a deep sigh. "It's going to take time...but, you're going to learn respect."

Respect.

It was such a weird, out of place principal for...her brother. Just a moody boy and angry teen. They were always at each other's throats. Never grew out of it. But now...

At some point he grew up. Like, a lot. At some point he went from kind of skinny and scrappy to...well big. And she knew now in more ways then one. Her face instantly heated, and she tucked into his chest, hiding. He let her.

She remained nestled in his lap, and he tapped her head to move her to a more comfortable position.

"When you figured out it was me, you didn't hesitate for a single, fucking second." The truth of it froze her, frenzied all her nerves, but he kept talking. "But..." he sighed. "If it makes you feel any better...I was never going to give you a choice. I'm not giving you one now. This stops when I say it stops and no sooner."

There was a dull, dark horror underneath his words. What if she hadn't said his name? What if she turned around the second he walked in the room and said 'fuck no.'?

Would he still have...

"Jonah..."she whispered. "You can't do this..." When he didn't move, she kept begging. "I'm serious...You're my

goddamned brother."

"Mm--" He tilted her face up by the chin, so she was looking in his eyes. "And you're my good little whore forever."

_________________________

Chapter 6

After that, Jonah shoved his way into her room, and started going through her closet. He dumped half her clothes on the bed, the other half on the floor.

"

Jo

-nah?" She asked in sing-song. "What the hell are you

do

-ing?"

He just ignored her, clacking hangers together as he slid clothes aside in the closet. Once he held up one of her old sweaters, bought on a family vacation to the Grand Canyon. "Seriously?"

"What?"

He threw it on the floor.

Emma kept ticking her eyes to the closed door, afraid her dad would come up to check on her and they'd have to explain this odd scene.

When Jonah finished, he pointed at the pile on her bed. "Yes." Then the floor. "No."

Well that's pretty clear. "I'm not a fucking dog." She said.

"Semantics."

...

At the end of it, he'd gone through every drawer in her room. Every little niche. Every hidey hole. He made her move the "yes" pile back into the closet, and even overturned her mattress, searching underneath the seams. Looking on top of the high shelves in the closet without using a ladder.

"What are you looking for?"

He just grunted non-comittally.

"Don't break my shit."

He turned on her and glared. For a second she thought he might just smash something on the ground just to be an asshole. She muttered. "Sorry..." And he went back to work.

Near the end, there was a big pile in the center of her room, and she stared at it, wondering if there was anything worth arguing over. She didn't even know what to call this. It felt like some kind of a prison turn-down or something.

Eventually, she just took the chair to her white, matching desk and sat in the corner, holding her head in her hands. This was a new, horrible dynamic. Jonah had never been able to pull the same kind of shit she did with him. If Emma got caught with beer, she just listened to her mom yell for awhile, her dad unwilling to get involved with "daughter problems. He'd never had any leverage; but he sure-as-shit did now.

Jonah tapped her on the shoulder, and she looked up, defeated. "Give me your phone." She unplugged it from its spot on her desk. He could have just taken it. She kinda wished he did. "Passcode?"

No point in hiding. "9834."

He raised an eyebrow. It was the last four digits to their old landline that their dad refused to disconnect. Jonah worked in silence for a few minutes before asking another.

"Bank password?"

She couldn't help angling her head, almost shouting. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No. I'm not."

She held her head in her hands. "Jonah, I don't wanna do this."

"Mm, remember when you caught me with Mindy Asher and you made me shave off one of my eyebrows to not tell dad?"

Emma snorted, despite the situation.

"Plus, you made me buy you like half the fucking makeup at Sephora? The counter lady thought I was gay and you just thought that was fucking hilarious."

Emma pursed her lips, hard, trying not to remember the expression on his face. Then only muttering. "That's probably cause it was hilarious."

"Well," he shrugged, "Payback's a bitch. Bank. password."

"It's in there."

He looked up from her phone, chiding her. "Your security is terrible."

"Your sense of morality is terrible."

He countered. "I could be having you do any number of things right now. Remember when I said I could be mean? Cause I have plenty of ideas."

And why hadn't he...? She'd really expected...but instead of letting those conflicting feelings in, she decided on aggression. "Ideas?" Emma obviously eyeballed the junction between his legs, snapping her teeth. "Yeah, me too."

He cocked his head. "Emma...you know that wouldn't end well for you."

"End worse for you."

Then, their kind-of normal sibling banter turned on a dime, and he advanced on her with three sweeping steps. He picked her up by the collar of her pajama shirt, shoving her back into the uneven shelves at the back of her desk. She screamed a tiny bit.

"I swear to fucking

Christ, Emma...

If you

ever

even

think

about trying to hurt me like that..." her hands were already up in the air, and she had real fear in her heart.

Little stutter-screams kept leaving her open mouth, but Jonah didn't see, or didn't care about the growing terror in her chest. He grabbed her by the arms this time, pushing her roughly into the wall. His left hand snaked up her shirt and the right went down, slipping past the waistband of her pajama pants and into her unsexy cotton underwear.

He pinched her right nipple, squeezing hard. "Ow! Ow! Jonah!" His hand was shook from the pressure "Stop!" The next moment, he removed the hand, clasping it around her mouth. She couldn't jerk her head back, and he turned her head to the side to keep her from evading. She made a placative sound somewhere between a whine and a plea.

Then, she felt his fingers slip around the sensitive bud in-between her legs. And she tried to shake her head, repeating a muffled "No!"

When he started to squeeze, the first sensation was an intense itch, followed by the tiny spike of an instant where pleasure sparked. Then, pain.

Pain. Pain

that made her scream into his hand. "Please!" He brought more pressure and more, until the scream breached past the barrier of her mouth and started to ring out her sinuses. Jonah quickly plugged her nose, and she got out a "Please!" as he shifted his hand.

She was batting at him...trying top pull his arm up, but the muscles of his forearm were solid, and he pushed easily against her. Her screams gave way to a sob and she could only make garbled sounds as she tried to shift her hips out of his grip. She thought he might be holding on with fingernails.

Emma wanted desperately to hit him, and she balled her fists, but his eyes warned her, and she flipped them out into trembling fingers finally clasping one of her hands overtop of his. He seemed to let up a bit, and the sharp stabbing sensation died quickly. But a deep burst of aching radiated through her crotch and she groaned, trying to find something to do with her hands. In front of her, she gripped her brother's shirt, twisting the fabric in time with her aching.

As the pain let up, his hand was still in place, and her body marked the firm, but yielding grip as something quite different than pain.

She'd tucked her head down into his chest, her hands still firmly knotted in his shirt. He stood, breathing just as deeply as her.

"Your clit..." Hearing his voice so affected made her whimper, and he swallowed. "Your clit is pulsing between my fingers."

Emma squeaked, and the sound made him run his thumb over the sensitive bud. She moaned into his hand. His hips jerked forward. He groaned, and she felt him shift his hand lower. When he found her wet, he moaned.

"Perfect little slut."

She moaned again, glad his hand was still in place over her mouth. She was so, so sensitive. With every nerve tense and swollen, his every motion made her hyper-alert. He placed his fingers expertly on either side of her clit, playing her like a violin.