-- Ray
I loosened my tie as I walked in through my front door, feeling momentarily like a cliche from a 1950's TV show. But being single, and with my parents spending the month in Bermuda, I had no family to hear me shout "Honey, I'm home!" if I was to complete the moment. Well, there was *one* family member: my step-sister Veronica was still staying with me in the house, after her neighbor had started a fire in his apartment and made the whole floor of her building uninhabitable for the last few days.
"Veronica?" I yelled.
"In the kitchen," she yelled back. I smelled frying food and heard a faint spattering of grease that I hoped wouldn't resolve into the braying of the smoke alarm. Veronica was a lot of things, but she was no cook.
I was 20, home from college for the summer and interning at a local law firm... a rather thankless position that demanded long hours in business-formal attire in exchange for zero pay and a fair amount of verbal abuse. Veronica was 22, but still referred to herself as my little sister, due to her bubbly personality that was interpreted by some as immaturity. She poked her head around the corner from the kitchen, grinned and wagged her dark eyebrows at me before quickly returning to the stove. She had long, wavy brown hair that was (as usual) pulled back into a ponytail. That's even how she wore her hair on the day we met.
Years after my mom left us, my dad had become involved with Carla, a woman at his office... his boss, as it turned out. When it came to the warning of "don't dip your pen in the company ink," I guess there was an exception when it came to the ink in the executive suite. I was nine years old when they married, bringing Carla into my family along with her daughter Veronica.
By her senior year, Veronica was a statuesque 5'11" at 18 and turning heads up and down our high school hallways. I only shared one class with her in high school, and in it she sat next to Tim, a boy that she knew liked her feet. Veronica's legs were crossed and she was dangling a sandal lazily from one toe as she slowly rotated her bare foot back and forth. I was a couple rows back, and watched the back of Tim's head as it moved, ever so slightly, twitching back and forth as he took quick glances at the show she was putting on. After a few minutes I guess she decided to intensify the effect, dropping the sandal and beginning to lightly graze her toes up and down the metal leg of the desk. I observed all this with amusement.
My own foot fetish didn't really develop for a few more years, but I at the time I could still easily imagine the torment her hapless neighbor was feeling, especially as I watched the back of Tim's neck turn pinker. Were those goosebumps? Poor guy. Then Veronica grasped the leg of the desk between her big toe and index toe and slowly slid them a few inches up and down the leg. I chuckled to myself and felt another pang of sympathy for the tortured boy beside her, when I suddenly wondered something.
I had always read a ton of sci-fi stories, full of starships and time travel and lots of robots. I imagined for a minute that metal leg of the desk was actually a robot's penis. What would that feel like to a robot, being stroked by Veronica's toes? I was instantly hard. At that age, this was a pretty common occurrence, and often happened absolutely randomly, but I became a little alarmed that this erection seemed to be of Veronica's doing.
My alarm quickly intensified as the teacher called my name, to get up and collect some test sheets to pass out to the rest of the class. Panicking, I stood up before I had a chance to adjust my crotch, and I approached the teacher's desk sporting quite a tent in my pants. Another girl in the glasses giggled and pointed, and most of the class turned to see. Everyone laughed, the teacher rolled her eyes at me, and I felt my face turn bright red.
Veronica was laughing as well, but I glared at her from the front of the class and I think she realized I blamed her for my predicament, and she quickly stopped laughing, her face changing to shock and then guilt. Due to full schedules of sports and other after-school activities, we didn't really have a chance to talk about the event for a couple days. By then it seemed a little pointless to bring it up, so we never mentioned it to each other.
I wondered if her antics might have even caused her current homelessness... maybe she had been seminude and frolicking in the hall as her neighbor watched her through a crack in his door, masturbating so furiously that he knocked over a candle or something and started the fire that forced her to have to live in the house with me this week.
I shook my head and grinned as I headed upstairs to get out of my work clothes and into something more casual -- and something that I wouldn't mind absorbing the smell of the fried whatever that Veronica was burning downstairs. As I changed into a t-shirt and shorts, I noticed my laptop askew from where it usually sat on my nightstand. My eyes narrowed suspiciously. I had not expressly forbid Veronica fromusing it, but since she had her own, I hadn't anticipated needing to. I sat down on the bed an opened it.
A web browser was open, but open to an empty page, with no recent history. Now, in my first week of my internship at the law firm, I helped research for a divorce case where the wife had caught the husband cheating. The husband had tried to be careful in deleting his incriminating online activity, but had failed to take into account his wife's computer science background. It turns out that she had installed a small piece of software that made the web browsers on their family computers only *pretend* to clear their histories. All online activity was meticulously tracked and simply saved in a different area under the browser's options menu.
The wife in the case was proud of the software she had written and installed, and offered it to anyone in the law firm who wanted to download it. Many of us took her up on her offer... just in case. I didn't even have a girlfriend at the time, so I had no reason to install it, but was suddenly glad I did. I clicked over to the options menu, poked around until I found the hidden history, and opened it.
At first I thought I was looking at some of my own porn browsing history that I had forgotten to fully delete... until I read more closely. There were a variety of links to pornographic stories and videos, with titles that shocked me. "BDSM bitches", "Tied up subs", "Orgasm denial", "Slave gags on cock", "Tickling torture"... all kinks and activities I'd certainly stumbled across before, but had never found particularly arousing myself. More importantly, nothing I had ever imagined my sister viewing, and certainly no masturbating to.
At that thought, I felt a twitch in my crotch. I'd never imagined my sister masturbating at all, but this discovery... and realizing that she'd likely touched herself while holding this very laptop... I twitched again. I closed the laptop and tried to collect my thoughts. Just then Veronica yelled for me to come down to dinner.
I entered the kitchen through a cloud of smoke, slowly dissipating as the stovetop fans pulled it away. Veronica exclaimed "Ta-daaaa!" and gestured dramatically at two plates piled with lumps of an unseen substance, covered in brown gravy. Pots and pans littered the stovetop, but the decreasingly smoky kitchen was otherwise relatively clean.
Veronica grinned at me and awaited my response. She was wearing an old soccer jersey and shorts, as she'd been playing in the park with old teammate friends in the park this afternoon. She had at least removed her cleats and stood in her knee-high, grass-stained socks. Her forehead and neck bore a light sheen of sweat from the heat of the stove.
"Looks delicious" I lied, and helped her set the table.
Sitting across the table from my sister, smiling and chatting while we ate something that may have once been chicken, I kept up appearances while my mind raced. The whole time I'd known her, Veronica had seemed to delight in using her developing sexuality as a forceful power over the men and boys who had crossed her path and caught her eye.
I would have thought that in any kind of domination-submissive relationship, she would be the one wielding the power over a helpless partner. Lord knows I'd witnessed it countless times as we grew up together. But I was having flashbacks to my psychology classes from last year. Was it all maybe some kind of... projection? Did that sound right? Had she been acting out the behavior that she secretly craved to find from someone else?
Watching her, I thought she was acting no differently from the night before, or anytime in the past, but I looked at her differently. Her blue-green eyes sparkled as she told long, funny stories that I wasn't really following in my state of newfound curiosity. Then, as she licked a smear of ranch dressing from one of her fingers, I felt another twitch. This could be trouble.
We finished dinner and did the dishes together, abandoning one ruined frying pan to the trash. I was making a mental note to bring some something microwavable from the store this weekend, when I heard and felt a snap on my ass. I yelped and turned around with a jump. Veronica was grinning at me, wild-eyed and half-crouched with a rolled dishtowel in her hand. She snapped it at me again, but I dodged and then tackled her in retaliation.
I picked her up and carried her to the living room where I dumped her on the couch. We'd grown up wrestling around with each other and never thought anything of it. But as we playfully struggled together now, the links I'd seen on my laptop were quietly scrolling in the back of my head. I flashed on 'Tickle Torture', and ground my knuckles against her ribs as I'd done a thousand times before. She shrieked and twisted around in my arms, turning to put her back to me, then using her long legs to push me onto my back with her on top of me. She twisted around again in a flash and pinned my wrists above my head.
"a-HA!" she yelled triumphantly. "You are under my power!"
She was straddling my hips as she pinned me to the couch, and I felt another twitch. This was suddenly a very awkward position. Veronica was very fast, but I still outweighed her by 10kg or so. I struggled my way up to a sitting position, taking her with me. With a quick move of my arms, I broke free from her grasp and took hold of her wrists. I pulled her arms down and behind her, immobilizing her as she squirmed and struggled to get free. I had control of her, but to keep her captive I had to keep her torso pulled against me, and her legs were still wrapped around my waist. The squirming and struggling was creating tremendous friction as she was basically grinding her crotch against mine. Now we were in a far more awkward position.
I pushed us both up and off the couch a few inches, then quickly turned her around and pushed her back down. Now Veronica was face-down on the couch as I straddled her butt, her wrists clutched in my hands. She was breathing heavily and glaring at me with one wild eye from her turned head, pressed into the couch cushion. I was waiting for her to you yell "let me up!" or "I'll get you for this", but she just laid there, squirming a bit, and glaring.
