Becoming My Sister’s Toilet

The next morning I woke to the sound of bustling activity on the other side of the bedroom door. I sat up groggily and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. It wasn't yet dawn, but someone was already up and moving about in the shared lounge. From the little huffs and grunts that reached me it sounded like heavy items were being shifted about. I listened a while longer, straining my ears, and heard the cabin door swing open on its slightly creaking hinges. This was followed by the sound of the car trunk being popped open and something being deposited inside.

A pathetic little groan came up to me from Cadie's side of the bed. "What's happening?" she grumbled, her brows knitting together in a deep, unhappy frown.

"I don't know," I told her. "Sounds like Dad's loading the car."

Cadie yawned, then groaned again as she stretched stiffly. "That doesn't make sense," she declared, sitting up beside me and rubbing her own eyes the same way I had done. "Why would he be packing today?"

My stomach lurched horribly as one possible answer suggested itself to my mind.

"You don't think they know, do you?"

Cadie didn't answer right away, but I could tell from her expression that she was asking herself the same question.

"Don't be silly," she said at last, though her tone lacked conviction. "Nobody came in."

"They might have heard us," I suggested. "The walls here are pretty thin."

"Then they definitely would have come in to stop us... wouldn't they?"

"Maybe they didn't know what to do. Maybe they were figuring it out overnight."

The idea that our parents had discovered our sordid secret and had spent the night deciding what to do about us made me feel sick to my stomach with dread. On the other side of the door the bustling continued. And then my dad's voice, rough with anger, came to us:

"Well it's disgusting," he rasped. "Absolutely disgusting! We come out here on vacation to spend some time as a family - a family! - and they go and pull this bullshit. They should be ashamed of themselves - fucking ashamed."

Cadie and I exchanged glances that were pure terror. Our dad almost never cursed. Clearly something had got him very upset, and whatever that something was, he found it disgusting.

My mother's voice answered him, but too softly for us to make out her words.

"Well it makes me sick," Dad responded to whatever it was our mother had said to him.

I swear I almost died of fright when I heard his firm, heavy footsteps turn toward our room and he started banging on the door.

"Girls?" his voice boomed, leaden with anger.

By this point I'd frozen with fear, so it fell to Cadie to answer.

"Yes?" she called back, unable to keep her own voice from quavering fearfully. "What is it?"

We both held our breath as the handle turned and the door swung back to reveal our father. "Vacations over," he said, brusquely. "Better pack your things 'cause we're heading home."

"Did something happen?" Cadie asked.

"Yeah," he growled, turning away and pulling the door closed again. "Something happened."

Cadie and I packed in silence. Outside our room Mom and Dad continued an unhappy, angry exchange, but their voices were hushed and we couldn't make out what they were saying. I was so certain that they knew what Cadie and I had done that I had to pause every now and then to wipe a tear of despair from my cheek. The dread gnawing away inside made me feel certain I was about to throw up at any moment, but that particular humiliation never came.

Cadie used the bathroom while I packed. Neither of us even considering for a moment that she would use me now, and not just because our parents were stalking about outside our room. Our vacation game was over, and we both knew it.

Even the return of the ring didn't provoke a murmur of protest when Cadie found it on top of the clothes she'd laid out for the day. She just dropped it into her purse before going about getting dressed.

--

Dad was already outside brooding in the car with the engine running when Cadie and I finished packing. Mom stood framed in the doorway to her own room, arms folded across her breast, her expression inscrutable as always, as we lumbered awkwardly beneath the weight of our own bags. I couldn't bear to look in her direction, but I didn't need to. I could feel her eyes burning into me from the dozen or so paces that separated us.

Our bags stowed in the trunk, Cadie and I climbed into the back seat. Dad didn't say anything, but the way he gripped the steering wheel with whitening knuckles told plainly enough that he was furious about something. A few moments later, Mom emerged from the cabin and locked the front door. She deposited the keys into the little metal safe provided by the letting company, then climbed in beside my dad.

Neither of them said anything to the other, and it was clear that they'd been arguing.

We must have driven in that tense, brittle silence for maybe a half-hour before Cadie finally summoned up the courage to ask: "So... why are we heading home?"

Dad just snorted and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, but Mom turned in her seat to face us.

"I got a call from the mag," she said, shorthand for Bright Light, the investigative magazine where she wore two hats as senior editor and public relations manager. "There's an emergency. One of the big-name backers just got himself arrested for investment fraud, and they need me to run damage control."

God, I remember I was so relieved I nearly burst into tears right there and then. But somehow I managed to hold myself together. They didn't know. Our parents hadn't cut the vacation short because of anything Cadie and I had been doing. It was just a plain old "work emergency". The same thing that caused angry fallouts between Mom and Dad every six months or so.

"You had a phone?" Cadie demanded indignantly, somehow zeroing in on the petty act of hypocrisy and managing to be angry about it, when all I could think of was how my own outrageous behavior had gone mercifully unnoticed. It was classic Cadie.

"I'm an adult," Mom snapped back at her. "I have responsibilities. It's not like I can just disconnect from the world."

Dad snorted at that, but said nothing as my mother fixed him with a withering scowl. After that, everybody lapsed into an angry, uncomfortable silence. The atmosphere in the car was toxic all the way back to New Liberty, but I couldn't have cared less. I stared out the window and fell inward into my own thoughts.

The terror of that morning had been a real eye-opener. What the hell had I been doing, drinking Cadie's pee and licking her pussy? If our parents really had found out... Jesus! How do you ever come back from that? Honestly, I don't think you do.

Anyway, arriving back in the city was like waking up from a twisted dream. The pact that Cadie and I had entered into seemed unreal, inconceivable, now that the broad, brick-built apartment blocks rolled past outside the car windows, now that irate drivers honked their horns at each other, and groups of people milled about on the sidewalks. Our pact belonged to that dreamworld of the cabin amidst the trees. And by the time we swerved into the driveway I'd come to a decision. I wasn't going to let Cadie use me any more. It was over.

--

Several hours later, I was in my room, pretending to myself that I wasn't hiding from Cadie. Which, of course, I totally was.

Mom had left for the office almost as soon as we'd arrived back at the house. We wouldn't see her for the rest of the day, which wasn't unusual when the mag was in crisis mode. Dad was out in the rear yard, working out his anger on the lawn with the mower.

Hiding or not, I can't say I wasn't expecting the knock on the door when it came. What did surprise me a little, however, is that Cadie waited for me to give the okay instead of just letting herself in. Anyway, I said, "Come in," and she stepped into the room, her features reaching for an expression of sympathetic understanding. It was odd, seeing her without her habitual sneer, and my puzzlement must have been apparent because she held up her hands in a placating gesture and said, "Hey, I come in peace."

"The vacation's over," I said firmly, the way I'd been practicing in my head all morning.

"I know," Cadie replied. "I'm not here for that."

"Then why are you?" I asked, perhaps more aggressively than I'd intended. But Cadie didn't seem at all phased.

"This morning," she said, and didn't need to clarify further. We both knew what she meant. "I just wanted... look, I'm checking you're okay. Okay?"

I raised an eyebrow. Probably that was unfair, but long experience had taught me to be most on my guard around Cadie precisely when she was being friendly.

"Well, are you?" she persisted, earnestly.

Was I? The truth is I really didn't know. Probably I wasn't. For maybe forty-five minutes - the worst forty-five minutes of my life - I thought my whole world was ending. But then everything turned out to be fine. Even so, the mistaken belief while I'd held it had been torturous, and had left me feeling shaken down into my bones.

"I guess," I said, blowing out a deep breath. "I'm all right. It was just... y'know."

"Yeah, it was," she agreed, then gestured to the end of the bed. "Hey, could I maybe...?"

I shrugged, and she perched herself down.

"Look, if you've come here to try to give me your fucking ring..."

"I haven't," she said quickly, cutting me off. "I didn't bring it. It's in my room."

At the mention of the ring, and all that it implied, we lapsed into a heavy silence. Cadie wanted to say something, that much was obvious, but for once her perfect self-assurance was letting her down. She didn't quite seem to know how to start. It was strange seeing her like that, uncertain, vulnerable almost. Neither of us said anything for a long time, until at last the leaden silence became almost unbearable.

"Look, I know how you must be feeling right now," Cadie said at last, reaching out to lay a hand gently on my thigh. "At least, I think I do, so if you need anything from me, anything at all, just ask, okay?"

For a second I was moved. I mean, there was a moment there in which I felt a genuine, human warmth emanating from Cadie. Something within me softened toward her, and I felt ashamed for having hidden away. After all, hadn't Cadie been just as afraid of discovery as I had? Wouldn't her life have been equally destroyed as mine? And yet she was the one who'd come to offer me comfort and support, while I had shut a door in her face.

Her hand shifted slightly, and I felt a pleasant warmth blossoming between my thighs...

Then it hit me and I kicked myself. Hadn't I just said I knew to be on my guard when Cadie was being friendly? Well evidently I didn't know it well enough. This newfound sisterly concern, I realized in an intuitive flash, was all just a big act, like everything always was with Cadie. She knew I was shaken, emotionally fragile, defensive, and coming on strong wasn't going to get her what she wanted, so she was simply trying a different tack. Concern. Vulnerability. Empathy. Bullshit. It was all bullshit. She knew damn well what seeds she was planting as she gently rubbed my inner thigh:

...if you need anything from me, anything at all...

It didn't take a genius to figure out what she was offering. Yes, she was still the same old snake. Sure she was trying out a new skin, but that wouldn't ever change what she was at her core.

I was suddenly furious, and wanted nothing more than to scream in Cadie's face that I was on to her scheme, that she should get the hell out of my room and never come back. But at the same moment a question popped into my head, and before I even had time to think about it, I was fixing Cadie with a sober gaze and asking:

"So, Truth or Dare?"

At first Cadie looked merely puzzled, but when she saw that I'd seen through her performance she snorted and the familiar smirk reappeared.

"Truth," she said, gamely, as I knew she would - there not being a drop of liquor in my room for a dare she'd enjoy.

"It's in your pocket, isn't it?"

Cadie sighed and stood up. Then, digging a hand into her pants pocket, she pulled it out again with the ring. "Clever girl," she said, then shrugged. "Can't blame a girl for trying."

"Cadie, listen to me. My answer, it's a No. I'm not taking your stupid ring, and I'm not going to..." I realized I was almost yelling and lowered my voice, "... I'm not going to let you use me like that anymore. It's over. You understand?"

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Cadie replied without apparent anger, pocketing the silver band again and starting slowly for the door to the hallway. "I mean, I understand that that's the way you feel right now, but how about tomorrow? Or the next day? The day after that?"

Reaching the door she paused and turned back, her hand resting on the handle.

"When you change your mind," she said with perfect nonchalance, "you know where to find me."

--

Next morning, still busy putting out fires at The Mag, Mom left at the crack of dawn. Her car pulling out the drive woke me enough to realize I hadn't been awake to hear what time she'd come home in the night. Dad cut his own vacation time a day short and went back to his 9-to-5, no doubt for the sole purpose of grumbling at his workmates about the ruined woodland trip. I tried to do likewise, putting a call in to the faux parisian café, where I worked part time, to see if I could pick up some extra shifts, but for once the staff rota was packed full and I wasn't needed.

I was downstairs making coffee in the kitchen when my cell phone chimed. I picked it up automatically, half thinking there'd been a change of plan at the café, but the message that popped up on the front screen was from Cadie. It read simply:

Yours if you want it?

An odd shiver ran through me, and I set the phone down on the counter without responding. The message didn't take much deciphering. Obviously Cadie had just woken up, and it was pretty freakin' obvious what was mine if I wanted it.

"Well?" the familiar voice of my Primal Hunger inquired. "Do you want it?"

"No," I said flatly, out loud to the empty room.

"Liar," the voice replied, crisp and mocking. And then, as if to emphasize its point, a wave of warm, anxious yearning erupted between my thighs, and it occurred to me that I hadn't orgasmed since that morning in the woodland cabin fully two days before.

I tried to ignore it - the cell phone message, the inner voice, my own sudden and treacherously blossoming arousal - and went back to the cafetier, pouring hot water over the heaped mound of freshly ground coffee beans and setting the lid in place. Even so, I couldn't help but hear echoes of Cadie's words from the previous afternoon: ...that's the way you feel right now, but how about tomorrow?... when you change your mind you know where to find me.

"I'm not going," I replied, as if Cadie had been there in the room speaking with me, and pushed a slice of bread down between the toaster grills. "I've made up my mind."

"Oh, you have?" the voice inside seemed to chuckle. " Well, that settles it then."

The phone chimed a second time. It was another message from Cadie, even shorter than the first. There weren't even any words this time, merely two question marks, one after the next. Somewhere in the rooms above me, my sister was growing impatient.

No. I wasn't going. Not now. Not ever again.

When the toast popped I threw it down on the plate and buttered it savagely, mutilating the hot bread into a pulpy mess, then poured the coffee in such irritated haste that a great pool of steaming black liquid spilled all over the counter. I swore, cleaned up, and carried my butchered breakfast over to the table and sat down.

Godamnit. Okay, yes. Clearly I wanted to go. The days at the cabin hadn't vanished from my memory entirely, or even very slightly, in the single day that had elapsed since we left. I remembered just fine the wild, heady thrill I got each time I submitted to my sister's wants, and the way the taste of her urine made my whole body thrum and tingle with an incredible, pulsing, delicious arousal, so that I felt as if I was melting away into a dream of sheer ecstasy. As well, I remembered those times that I'd toyed with the idea of submitting to her completely, just as I could that very second, and willing myself to do it. Willing it desperately.

Now, sitting there at the table, I felt as if the immense concupiscent tension yearning in my crotch might somehow yank me bodily from my seat and drag me to the foot of the stairs. But I held on. I chewed my mushy toast and burned my mouth on the coffee, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that I was not going to give in to Cadie. I was not going to go and open my throat to her urine. I was not going to let her own me.

I nearly had to dig my nails in the table when I heard movement overhead and the soft creaking of the floorboards above me. But I held on. I didn't budge. And after a minute or two I heard the flush of the upstairs lavatory and I knew that I had won, this round at least. But it was a hollow victory because, at the very same moment of my triumph, I felt a crushing disappointment, and plunged into a queer sort of despair. Yes, I had won a victory, of sorts, but was it one I really wanted to win? And was it going to feel this way every time Cadie didn't use me?

--

By Sunday morning I knew I was in trouble. Big Trouble.

I'd spent most of the last two days either locked away in my room distractedly half-reading one novel or another, or aimlessly flicking through the channels on my TV. A couple of times I'd gone out to wander through the nearby streets with their curious assortment of little boutique stores and cafes that I'd always found delightful and charming before, but my interest was somehow lacking, and soon I'd returned home.

The worst of it was that I was massively horny and frustrated all the time. Why? Because I couldn't masturbate without an army of memories and fantasies of my sister rushing in to crowd my thoughts. I wasn't able to think of anything else. Every time I closed my eyes, she was there, standing over me, with that crooked, sneering smile set on her face. My body would tense, and pulse, and pull at me with impatience for release. However, at the same time I knew I couldn't allow myself to masturbate to thoughts of Cadie.

I found myself trapped in a kind of vicious circle. I knew that If I didn't release this tension soon, my pent up arousal might deliver me up to my sister. But, equally, permitting myself to plunge headlong into fantasies of submitting to her seemed almost certain to have the same effect in the longer run. I really didn't know which was worse, though for the time being I had opted to resist.

I knew I had to get some distance, and had arranged to spend a couple of nights with a girl friend from the café. We weren't intimate, but we were close enough that I could ask for a favor on short notice, and I think she had hopes of finding someone to take over half the rent on the apartment she was staying in, although she hadn't said as much explicitly. For my part, I was thinking that that might be exactly what was needed in order to make my escape from Cadie. I had a bag packed ready to go beside my bed, and I would leave that evening to meet my friend at the end of her shift.

As for Cadie, she hadn't been entirely passive since her attempt at gently consoling me into being her forever toilet slave, but neither had she been going full guns exactly. For a start, she hadn't returned to my room, and, in fact, my reclusiveness had meant we'd only seen each other in passing a couple of times in the communal parts of the house. And even then I'd done my best to ignore her. No, Cadie's main tactic had been to message me each time about five or ten minutes before she went to use the bathroom:

etc., etc. It was a sort of chinese water torture approach to seduction, keeping up a steady drip, drip, drip, designed to wear me down over time.