Chapter Two: Evening of Delight
Eric's imperious words rang in my ears as I saw him turn and stride down the hall to his bedroom, the limp form of my little sister Clara resting in his arms. For a moment, I hesitated, almost daring to disobey the command to follow them, to stay with them and watch whatever Eric was about to do with my sister. It would be the right thing to do, I knew, if only a symbolic gesture. I didn't have the strength or the will to save my sister from him, he had ensured that she was helpless to resist him no matter what I could do, but at least I could save face for both of us by refusing to watch, refusing to be complicit in his game.
From the moment he extended the order, the invitation, the offer, I was already decided. There was no chance I would pass up the opportunity to see more of Clara's corruption at Eric's hands. The passionate desire to look at Clara not as a sister but as a woman, as an object of sexual desire that Eric had awakened in me had always been there, at least from the moment I picked her up from the airport at the start of her visit. Seeing her form, her elegance, her matured appearance had only made me want to see more, to drink in every smooth curve and slim shape that composed her graceful, petite body. And now it was going to happen, I had been given permission to stare at her as she was sexualized before my eyes. If that made Clara uncomfortable, if she resented my obsessive, lustful gaze on her face and body, then she could remind herself who it was that had submitted so easily to the man who had offered the spectacle to me.
I followed down the hall, entering Eric's dark room as I saw his sillhouette bearing Clara's approach his shadowy bed. He sat down on it and turned on a bedside lamp, casting the two of them in a dim orange light that reflected sensually on Clara's lithe form.
"Shut the door, and have a seat," Eric ordered, gesturing to a chair by his desk.
I did as commanded, leaving the three of us shut within Eric's bedroom. I hadn't been inside it much, and was surprised by how orderly and tidy it was. His bed was large, a queen while I was still in a twin. He sat with his feet planted to the floor, Clara resting daintily upon his lap, her head resting on his chest as she lay against him. He kissed her and fondled her body, his hands running up and down her back and over her bare thighs. He whispered something in her ear, and began to pull the hem of her shirt up over her stomach. At this, Clara whimpered and attempted to draw her arms in over her chest, murmuring something I couldn't hear.
"It's alright, baby-doll, you can trust me," Eric said, and placing a hand under her chin, he tilted her head back to kiss her lips. I sat and stared, transfixed as I watched Clara melt into his kiss, her breath still ragged as he worked her shirt up over chest, until after a minute he broke the kiss and commanded her to raise her arms. Again she whimpered and shook her head, and turning her face for a moment, shot a wary glance at me. I understood that it was my presence as much as any general reluctance that was preventing her disrobing for him.
"Don't worry about him, Clara," said Eric in a dreamy tone, "He's just here to make sure you're okay...focus on me, sweetheart. Raise your arms."
His deep, steady voice and calm tone were too much for her willpower, and looking up at him with starstruck eyes, Clara lifted her arms slowly up over her head like a ballerina. Barely containing his eagerness, Eric brought her thin shirt up past her chest, up her arms and neck, until at last he brought her arms down again and pulled the shirt away, tossing it aside onto the floor.
I hadn't seen my sister bared like this before ever. Even when I had last been to a pool with her she had worn a more modest one-piece swimsuit. Now here she was in only a small white bra, and already Eric was unfastening this, and Clara was gazing at him in wonder and terror as he exposed her upper body for his eyes and mine. The bra came away, slipping down her arms and wrists, leaving her bare chest to view.
I had already known that Clara was not a busty girl. She had a slim, lightweight frame without substantial breasts, but what she did have I thought utterly lovely. Her breasts were small and shapely, without a trace of sagging under their own weight, little round lumps held upright by the tightness of her youth. Her nipples were tiny and perky, little pink buttons that stood out from her chest, beckoning to be touched and nibbled.
I took all this in in just a moment, because as soon as the bra was off Clara instinctively pulled her arms into her chest, covering her bare breasts and nipples. She whimpered more and visibly trembled, but Eric wrapped his arm around her bare body and held her close, his hands gently clasping her wrists and pulling her arms away slowly. She resisted him just enough that I knew she was afraid, but gave in easily enough that I knew she was already well within his control. He smiled and spoke quietly to her, reassuring her as he stripped away her defenses, both physically and mentally.
"There you go baby, good girl, let me see," he cooed, "You're so pretty, Clara, god you don't know how beautiful you are."
As he spoke, his hands found her breasts. He began to knead her soft skin under his fingers, touching and caressing her as she bit her lip and wiggled her feet. She was still looking up at him, and her body was still tense and rigid, but she no longer whimpered in fear. He pinched her nipples between his fingers, making her gasp in surprise, and then kissed her face, not letting her have a moment to collect her thoughts. She sat helpless on his lap as his lips devoured her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and nose, leaving every bit of her face covered in his saliva. All the time he groped her breasts, pressing his fingers to her, petting her skin, pinching and tapping her nipples until she gave a few soft mews like before.
That seemed to be his cue. His fingers ran slowly down from her chest to her lap, slipping over the smooth pale skin of her stomach to press between her thighs again. As before, he began to rub little circles over the seam of her shorts between her legs, and this time her mews came almost at once, soft sighs and intakes of breath as his touch took effect. She leaned her head against his chest, her lips parted and her eyes half shut, and lay still as Eric's fingers worked around her crotch. He sat with her for what seemed hours, though it was only about ten minutes, before he seemed to feel she was sufficiently prepared for what was next. Her breath had calmed to an even pulse, and her eyes had shut fully. She could have been asleep for all I could tell, her quiet whimpers and mews the reaction to a dream, if I hadn't known the real reason.
His fingers withdrew from her crotch, and for a moment I foolishly believed he would let her go, deciding that this was enough for my sister. But no, I stared in dismay as he worked them back down, this time behind the hem of her shorts, against her soft skin. I swallowed, and Clara gasped, for the first time in minutes showing any sign of protest. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, the fear returned to her eyes as she whined. He gazed back at her with a charming smile, whispering for her to be still and good, shushing her gently. Her hand had dropped to his forearm, clutching at it as if to pull his hand away, but there was no chance of that as his fingers slid down to her mound. Though I couldn't see it, I knew he now was touching her vagina without any barrier, fingers on flesh.
Clara gasped and her eyes widened in surprise. Eric held eye contact and kept smiling, saying quietly, "You're wet, Clara." She whimpered again and bit her lip, trembling as his wrist started revolving in her shorts. I stared fascinated, realizing that he was searching for her clitoris, the tips of his fingers poking at my sister's vulva, maybe even pushing inside of her. Eric inside Clara! Nestling his fingers in the soft folds of her pussy as she sat helpless on his lap. Her feet lifted up, toes curling as she extended her legs, trying to bring her knees up to push his hand away. He was too much though, and soon she sank back slowly against him, leaning into him as his touch became too much for her to resist.
My little sister began to make sounds I had never heard from her before. Even the sensual mewing seemed tame to the moans she now gave. Her voice was high and soft, and her breath was strained as she gasped. Eric was patient and careful, working his fingers slowly between her wet pussy lips. I knew he must be fingering her clitoris, to see her small body writhe on his lap, her back arching and her toes wiggling. There were tears in her eyes, and saliva hanging from her lips, but she seemed to not care at all as Eric continued to tease her. I wondered how far into her his fingers had gone, and how wet and warm she felt to his touch. She seemed so small in his arms, a tiny porcelain doll in the grip of a great iron sculpture. This was my little sister, hardly a woman yet, her body opened up to the man I had thought was my friend.
It was my fault, I knew it. I had invited Clara to stay with me, I had introduced her to Eric and not once had I warned her of his nature. I had been embarrassed, I realized, because to warn her would be to admit that she might become an object of his desire, his prey, which would have been to admit that I saw her attractive qualities. Had I really believed Eric wouldn't try anything with Clara? Had I ignored the signs over the week as he doted on her, acted the gentleman with her, took her to art galleries and fed her jokes and compliments? I saw now how oblivious I had made myself as he groomed her before my eyes, not even trying to hide it from me, daring me to stop him. He knew as well as I had that I would never have been able to prevent him, and now he was showing off to me how impotent I was, how totally he had taken control of the situation and of my little sister.
Clara's moans had grown higher in volume and pitch, though even still her naturally quiet voice was weak and soft. I wondered if she had ever touched herself before, and realized that realistically she must have, but likely never like this. Eric knew her body better than she did, and was expertly toying with her, smiling as she wriggled in his lap in pure ecstasy. She no longer seemed to care at all that I was there, or had forgotten me completely. Eric however had not, and every few minutes would raise his head to look at me, meeting my eyes, and give me a confident smirk. Soon enough Clara was moaning louder, grasping at his chest and pulling his shirt as if for dear life, her mouth open and her eyes shut as she whined out loud, squealing and gasping. She was shaking, trembling from head to toe as Eric caressed her, whispering into her hair as he kissed the top of her head. His wrist, disappearing into her shorts, moved with a steady motion, and I saw that her thighs were now parted, allowing him full access to her mound. With every passing minute, I knew the moment was approaching, that in this state Clara could not and would not hold herself back.
