-Click-
I snapped back to consciousness and simultaneously drew in a deep breath. Something had dragged me from the warm embrace of sleep and I blearily tried to figure out what it could have been. For some reason I couldn't turn on my side so I lifted my head and attempted to pierce the darkness of the room.
Wait... darkness? I never draw the curtains all the way closed...
In my sleep-dazed state, the realization took significantly longer to crystalize in my mind, giving me ample opportunity to notice that I was not alone. I couldn't tell you what really tipped me off to the presence just outside of my peripheral vision, but I knew someone was watching me.
"Hello...?" I whispered sleepily, turning my head to get a better look at my visitor.
A patch of shadows moved at the sound of my voice and in an animalistic instinct I jerked upright, reaching for the knife on my bedside table.
Or at least; that's what I tried to do...
My hands and feet were unable to move more than a few inches of the bed. With panic-widened eyes I looked at my wrist, unable to see what restrained me. But I recognized the metallic sound and the tight, nearly sharp fit of the handcuffs anyway.
These were not the fun kind of handcuffs, like I'd used on more than a couple dozen occasions. These were the real deal, judging from the lack of give as I strained against them.
I attained this information in the span of two rapid heartbeats, quickly refocusing on the figure to the right of my bed's headboard. My imagination treated me to a collage of horrible tableaus from all the true crime shows I loved watching.
Oh, shit! Please don't be a murderer. Please don't be a murderer.
Please don't be a murderer.
All I heard were my shallow breaths, which I tried desperately to get under control and the rustle of fabric. Whoever -or whatever- it was slowly moved closer.
Well, this is it. I'm going to die and I never even got to... do... something... Oh come on! I can't even think of anything I should have done when I had the chance?!
A tickling sensation on my forehead startled me. I clenched my eyes shut and froze.
WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! IS THAT HAIR?!
I nearly lost my damn mind when the kiss was pressed softly on my forehead.
"Hey, big brother..."
§
1
The warmth of her breath as she whispered the words was clearly contrasted against the cooling moisture her lips had left on my skin.
It took me a few seconds to put the pieces together and remember to breathe.
"Anna?" I said, my response barely audible. "What are you doing?"
"Mmm..."
She uttered the low purr, while she ran her fingers through my hair, like it was all the explanation I could possibly need.
Well, now this was just insane. In what world did she think tying me to my own bed would result in anything like a polite conversation?!
And what's with all the touching?!
"Anna." I whispered into the dark, my voice hardening with anger. "Get these cuffs off me. Right now, dammit."
My sister didn't give any indication that she'd understood me. Instead, she affectionately brushed my hair back with her hand and smoothly stood up from the bed.
Again, I heard the rustling of fabric as she appeared to fumble for something. She evidently found what she was looking for when the soft friction of paper on paper sounded from her direction. There were several light clinking noises -
toothpicks?-
and with a gritty scratching noise she ran the match over the length of the matchbook's striker strip.
Almost instantly, the chemically roused flame sizzled into life, making me flinch back with its brightness.
The not unpleasant smell of phosphorus reached my nose and I slowly opened my eyes, trying to let them get accustomed to the sudden light.
Anna stood beside the bed and used the lit match to kindle half a dozen candles to life, which currently occupied my nightstand. They were slightly yellow and as slender as my forefinger. A part of me wondered how she'd managed to keep them upright without a candlestick holder.
"Sorry about the cuffs, Art, but I'm going to need you to stay still for a while."
My sister spoke the words with a strange sort of calm. She was solely focused on the candles, lighting them in a measured, slow motion. Almost ritualistic, the way she moved.
The manner in which she held herself seemed trance-like in its serenity. I immediately thought of Tibetan monks who'd ceremonially light hundreds of candles, as an exercise in mindfulness. Instinctually I knew that no matter what I said, Anna wouldn't respond in any other way than she deliberately choose.
So rather than waste my breath I waited for her to finish her task and took in the scene that unfolded before me.
§2
The soft, flickering light was actually quite pleasant, now that my eyes had adjusted to the illumination. It showed me my sister, who was dressed in a short, white robe, that only reached halfway down her thighs. The thin material lay close to her body, outlining the slender curves of a young woman.
She wore no make-up and her auburn hair hung loose, reaching to her shoulders. A light dusting of freckles was visible in the glow of the candles and her kind, brown eyes tracked back to mine as the last wick whispered alight.
"Anna, what the hell?" I whispered. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Yeah..." she sighed, still looking me in the eye and allowing a small smile to tug her lips upwards. "It's time to set things right."
Okaaay.
She reached to the knife on my bedside table and with a distinctive -snap- opened the blade into place.
"Eh, sis. What do you think you're doing?" I asked nervously as she stood over me.
She bent over me, moving the blade to my stomach. "hey, hey, hey!" I hissed in a violent whisper. "Anna! Put that thing away before someone gets hurt!" Panic tinged my words.
At last some of my words seemed to get through to her. My sister's jaw tensed for a second. She righted herself with a sound of annoyance and put the knife back on the nightstand.
"You talk too much, Arthur."
Then she promptly reached under her little robe with both hands and smoothly drew down her panties, before stepping out of them.
I was so dumbfounded by her reaction that my mouth hung open just a fraction, but it proved wide enough for my sister to deftly stuff her underwear between my lips. I gagged and coughed as the dry fabric filled my entire mouth.
"Is it really that bad, or are you just being a big baby?" She asked coyly, pouting her bottom lip as she spoke the last words.
Actually...
I could clearly feel the residual warmth the tiny article of clothing had held from contact with her skin and the scent...
Oh my god.
A shiver ran up my spine as the fragrance of my sister's used panties filled my mouth and nose. This was the kind of smell that could kickstart my Neanderthal brain into overdrive if I wasn't careful.
Dude! She's your sister!
I chastised myself.
Though, despite my mental reality-check, I could feel my body responding to the aroma of a young female. I couldn't help it.
"Thought so." Anna sing-songed softly as she watched my face go through several emotions in the space of a few seconds. "Now hush. I need to concentrate."
She picked up the knife again and without preamble slid the blade between my stomach and my shirt, causing the muscles there to tighten in anticipation. She calmly moved the sharp edge upwards towards my neck, shearing through the cotton shirt with ease.
I'm not gonna lie; when she came within inches of my throat I flinched. But apparently my little sister knew what she was doing. Two additional movements of the knife and a ripping motion later, she'd neatly removed my shirt. Leaving me bare-chested.
"Mmm," she mused approvingly, "I always forget how muscular you actually are."
She traced her fingers along the lines of my chest, down over my chiseled stomach. "This might even make what we have to do a little easier."
"What we have to do"? Is she on drugs or something?
I tried to tell her that she wasn't making any sense, but the improvised gag muffled my words into unintelligibility.
"I always hate this part," she said seemingly to no one in particular. Anna placed the keen edge of the knife on the thin skin just above the cuticle of her forefinger and pressed down. She winced as the blade bit into her finger, but to her credit never faltered in her action until she'd drawn a neat line of blood and had placed the knife down on the floor.
"There. Now I need you to lie still, so I don't mess up the symbols."
Oh, this is just getting ridiculous.
I drawled in my internal monologue voice.
Has she been getting into those witchcraft shows of her again?
As Anna dabbed her uninjured forefinger into the blood I knew what she was going to do next and I didn't like it one bit.
Charmed, Supernatural and Sabrina can kiss my ass! We're not doing this!
I strained against the handcuffs, attempting to either force the metal links apart or rip through the frame they'd been attached to. Eventually something had to give, right? I could fight my way free of this if I just made enough of an effort.
"Stop it!" Anna hissed.
Ignoring my apparently deranged sister, I continued to exert pressure on the steel manacles, drawing my arms down. Was it my imagination or was there a creaking sound coming from the wooden bed frame?
Anna put her hand against my jaw. "Arthur, please!"
The hurt and sadness in her voice gave me pause. That was way more emotion than the situation seemed to merit.
What in the ever living hell is going on here?
