One Thanksgiving, when I was eighteen years old, my older sister and her cousins tortured me. While the adults socialized, they tackled, gagged, and hauled me upstairs. I could've resisted, but I was bored and wanted some excitement. I was not disappointed.
Once in the master bedroom, I was stripped naked on the bed. My clothes were stuffed under the door to muffle any wandering sound. My limbs were stretched and secured to bedposts by scarves, which ensured no escape from the ensuing torment. None of the adults – not even my parents – checked on us. In their minds, I was playing with my relatives. I doubt they imagined me screaming.
Like a gazelle trapped among a pack of lionesses, I was vulnerable to the teeth of my captors. I heard the bed groan and felt the mattress sag. Warm breath brushed against my arms, my navel, and my bare feet. I pulled my fingers into fists and clenched my toes, bracing for the unknown. Goosebumps covered my skin.
I felt a pair of jeans climb over my waist. Two knees clamped along my ribs, preventing them from twisting. I felt furry socks – Naomi's socks – burrow into my genitals. My sister's buttocks smothered my pelvis. I moaned at the pleasurable pressure.
I swung my head and surveyed my peril. Two cousins lay with their fingertips inches away from my arm pits. Naomi loomed over my torso, casting a shadow on my face. She smiled like a psychopath, her teeth shinning from ear to ear. I couldn't see my other two cousins, but I guessed they were posed by my feet. My pupils widened. They were going to tickle me. I loathed being tickled. My creamy skin was the ultimate conductor. I stared into my sister's sapphire eyes and pleaded.
"
Puhhhlesss Dunnnt!
"
Naomi's response was swift and cruel.
"Blindfold him!"
Darkness descended, and I heard them giggle. The blackness was tangible. I felt the void that was now my world, and I panicked.
I tugged against the restraints, but it was hopeless. I was sprawled too far on the rack.
Survival was my only goal in this torture chamber. I was the victim of their malevolence. I would persevere. I would not laugh. I would show them I am a man to be feared.
"Now!" Naomi said.
Reason abandoned me as fifty fingertips stroked my flesh. The touches were so delicate, and the motions so varied. Their hands conducted an orchestra of agony.
Scratching penetrated the depths of my arm pits. My cousins' nails were wild and unrelenting. They felt like cat whiskers and scuttled faster than scared spiders. They rose to my inner elbows and glided back to my hairy cavities.
Naomi's fingers were surprisingly skilled. They titillated my nipples and swirled around my pecks. They skewered the gaps between my ribs. They encircled my belly and swabbed my navel. I bucked when she did that.
Strokes danced among my graduated toes, along my concave arches, and around my silky soles. They raked across the tops of my feet and scattered across my legs. They jabbed behind my knees. If my skin was an ice rink, then my cousins' fingers were skaters that never scraped the same spot twice.
My resolve cracked at first touch. The assault overwhelmed my senses. Laughter exhausted the air in my lungs. My head wriggled on the pillow. It took a minute before I remembered to breathe. Whether I swerved or stilled, the scarves and incessant tickling remained. After ten minutes, the endorphins ebbed and I cried.
Tears welled up in my emerald eyes. They streamed from the blindfold, cascaded down my stove-hot cheeks, and puddled onto the pillow below me. Sweat oozed from every pore. Snot streaked from my nostrils. The gag reduced my squeals to whimpers.
Another ten minutes passed, and my blonde hair was drenched with sweat. The bedsheets were also drenched. My tormentors were merciless, ignoring my screams, squirms, and sobs. My cock tried to swell, but my sister's buttocks suppressed it. Naomi felt my erection. She rubbed her ass along my shaft, exacerbating the tension. There was no relief in sight.
A few minutes later, I felt the urge to pee. My bladder was full from Thanksgiving cider, and the stimulation had triggered its release. I succumbed to the flow.
Urine burst from my foreskin, soaking my sister's tight jeans and fluffy socks. Naomi shrieked and leaped off my waist, exposing my buried cock. The remaining urine arced onto the mattress and the carpet beyond. I heard my sister swear and the tickling stopped. I cherished every moment of the break. My screams ceased, my body stilled, my tears dried, and my cock swelled to full height. I thought I would be freed. Silly me.
Naomi was livid. She crawled to my ear and whispered, "Prepare to suffer." She slid off the bed and barked orders to my idle cousins.
"Emily," my sister said, "Get me a bottle of cider."
I heard Emily open the bedroom door and prance downstairs.
"Amanda, fetch me a towel."
"Where from?" Amanda asked.
"I don't know – it's your house!" Naomi seethed, "Anything to wipe up my brother's piss."
Amanda left the room.
"Ruthie, get the baby oil and, Jocelyne, grab the tools."
I heard them dash downstairs. Naomi sighed, and I sensed her menacing gaze sweep over me. She shut the door and locked it. We were alone.
"I've waited years for this moment," she said, unbuckling her leather belt and yanking it from her waist.
The metal snap dragged along the carpet as she circled the bed. The scraping sound stopped where my feet were tied apart. Nothing was hidden from her sight.
Snap!
I heard my sister unbutton her jeans.
Zzzzzzip!
The flaps of her fly hung past her shirt. Slowly, she pried the wet denim from her marshmallow buttocks. She peeled the tailored pants down her towering legs, one side at a time.
When the jeans were at her ankles, she lifted one foot through and then the other, removing her fluffy socks in mid-air. Her waist was curvaceous like a vase. Her legs shone like porcelain. Her bare feet were just like mine, except a size smaller: graduated toes, concave arches, and silky soles.
She crossed her arms and flung her shirt overhead. I heard it crumble on the floor. Her bare arms were as soft as cotton. Her oval belly was as smooth as a bar of soap, and her navel was a winding hole. Her breasts resembled two apples for their firmness and rotundity. Her tits stuck out like stems.
Naomi's face was round. Several strands of saffron hair draped over her shoulders while the rest swayed by the small of her back. Her pink lips were elastic. Her nose was clean and petite. Her eyebrows were laced for the holidays. Naomi's eyes glimmered like a freshwater lake at noon.
She wore a matching bra and panties. They were as black and transparent as a screen-door.
I felt the mattress plunge between my legs.
Cold leather tapped my swollen cock and prodded my testicles. A shiver bolted up my spine. I felt my heart explode as blood gushed through my veins.
"Want to know a secret, little brother?" she croaked, "I've been lusting over you since you started gymnastics. I watched your body –"
She traced my chiseled abs.
"– swing across rings, flip across mats, and balance across beams."
Her voice cracked, though it was only a mumble. Her confession was incestuous, but I didn't care. She was massaging my muscular thighs.
"I saw these legs stiffen as you performed walking headstands. Your chalked feet hung in the air like a distant wave. I even noticed your white toes curl."
I felt her hands clasp my right knee. She caressed her thumbs to my right ankle, where she broke the embrace. She fondled my toes, eliciting airy moans from me.
"I didn't attended your practices and competitions to support you. No, I sat in the bleachers to ogle over your body. How your chest heaved inside your leotard, how the spandex outlined your cock, how your limbs gleamed with sweat under the spotlight – you aroused me! "
No wonder she watched me bathe.
"You have no idea how much I've desired to play with you. It's been my constant fantasy. God, I remember creeping into your bedroom with strips of rope and duct tape while you slept. I wanted to bind you to the bedframe so badly."
She stroked my arches, and I reeled at her touch. She had a sixth sense of where I was most sensitive, unlike my cousins whose strokes were broad and unrefined. It was hit-and-miss for them. Naomi was worse because she never missed.
"But you stirred, and I fled. If you hadn't scared me, you would have been in my clutches months ago. So I retreated to my bedroom and –"
"
Hrrrrrmmmfff!
" I wailed, spouting new tears. My head spun like a pendulum. My hands and feet shook like trees in a hurricane. My screams hastened my sister's hand.
"Awww, does this tickle, Jeremiah?" she said, cooing my name, "I've practiced on myself for years. We're family, after all, so my weaknesses are your weaknesses. You should save your screams for when it's really bad."
I ignored her advice.
"Anyway, I retreated to my bedroom and masturbated. Those were the best minutes of my life – climaxing to your imagined screams in imagined bondage. But now it's real. You are finally mine."
Three knocks berated the bedroom door.
"Fuck."
My sister crawled off the bed and leaned against the doorframe.
"Yes?"
"All the bottles of cider are empty," Emily said, "Why did you lock the door?"
I heard my sister take a sharp breath. Her tone turned hostile.
"You didn't ask any of the adults, right?"
"Right, I didn't want to raise suspicion."
"Good."
