Making my sister My slut

The story about how I made my sister my toy

The quiet hum of the house always felt different when Mom and Dad were gone. A heavy silence, like a blanket smothering every sound, yet within it, the house seemed to breathe differently. I’d been restless, pacing the living room, a half-eaten bag of chips forgotten on the coffee table. Amelia was in her room, a fact I knew only because I hadn't heard her leave. Usually, she’d be blasting some pop nonsense, but today, nothing. Just that oppressive quiet. Curiosity, or maybe something else, tugged at me. I drifted down the hall, my feet silent on the worn carpet. Her door, usually shut tight, stood ajar, a sliver of light escaping the crack.
A faint, rhythmic sound reached me, something soft, almost like a whisper, then a little gasp. It wasn't her music. It was… different. My hand reached for the doorknob, pushing it slowly, quietly, the old wood groaning a barely audible protest. The sight that greeted me froze me in the doorway, a tableau burned instantly into my mind.
Amelia lay sprawled on her bed, the pink tank top with 'THE FORCE IS WITH YOU' stretched across her chest, riding up, exposing a sliver of pale skin above her shorts. Her hair, usually a mess of chestnut waves, was spread across the pillow, damp tendrils clinging to her forehead. Her eyes, usually so bright and innocent, were half-lidded, glazed over, focused intently on the laptop screen propped on her knees. Her left hand was buried between her legs, moving with a steady, deliberate rhythm, her fingers working against the fabric of her shorts. The sound I'd heard was her breath, catching, hitching, small moans escaping her lips.
The screen glowed with violent, vibrant colors, anime figures writhing, their faces contorted in expressions of pleasure and pain. Hentai. And not just any hentai. The kind with ropes, struggling figures, faces twisted in fear and arousal. Rape hentai. My blood ran cold, then hot, a strange, dizzying rush. My sister. My little sister.
Her eyes flickered, snapping open fully, wide with sudden terror as they landed on me. Her hand froze, trapped between her legs, her breath caught in her throat. The laptop screen cast a lurid glow on her face, highlighting the flush that bloomed across her cheeks, the sheen of sweat on her brow.
“Lucas?” Her voice was a bare whisper, a fragile thing that barely broke the silence. Her body tensed, like a cornered animal, ready to bolt. The air in the room thickened, heavy with unspoken things, with the raw, exposed vulnerability of her moment, and the sudden, predatory shift in my own mind.
I took a step into the room, the door clicking shut behind me with a soft thud that echoed like a gunshot. The sound made her flinch.
“What are you watching, Amy?” My voice was low, rougher than I intended, a strange tremor running through it. I didn’t move closer, just stood there, letting my gaze sweep over her, taking in every detail: the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, the frantic pulse thrumming in her throat, the sudden, desperate clench of her thighs.
She stammered, scrambling for words, her face a mask of mortification. “Nothing. Just… cartoons.” She tried to sound casual, but her voice cracked, giving away the lie. Her hand, still pressed against her crotch, began to tremble.
“Cartoons, huh?” I moved closer, slowly, deliberately, like a hunter stalking prey. My eyes never left hers, pinning her, watching the fear bloom in their depths. “Looks like a pretty interesting cartoon.” I stepped up to the side of her bed, my shadow falling over her. The screen was still visible, the animated violence playing out silently.
She tried to push the laptop shut, her fingers fumbling with the lid. “It’s nothing, Lucas. Just go. Please.” Her voice was pleading now, a desperate plea that only fueled the fire building inside me.
I reached out, my hand closing over hers, stopping her. Her skin was cool, clammy. My thumb brushed against the back of her knuckles, a spark igniting between us. “Let me see.” My voice was no longer a question, but a command, an unyielding edge to it.
Her eyes, wide and terrified, darted from my face to the laptop, then back again. “No. Lucas, don’t.” She tugged, trying to pull her hand free, but my grip was firm. The laptop remained open, the images still flickering.
“No? You were enjoying it just a second ago, weren’t you?” I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Her scent, a mix of her usual shampoo and something musky, something distinctly *her*, filled my senses. “All hot and bothered, weren’t you, little sister?”
A fresh wave of crimson washed over her face, spreading down her neck. Her lips trembled. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t doing anything.” It was a weak defense, crumbling under my gaze.
I released her hand, letting it fall away from the laptop, but not from her body. It hovered, still cupping her crotch, a silent testament to what she’d been doing. I reached out, my fingers brushing against the fabric of her shorts, right where her hand had been. A jolt, like static electricity, passed between us. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath.
“Feels pretty wet down there, doesn’t it?” I grazed my fingertips over the damp spot on her shorts. The fabric was thin, and I could feel the heat radiating from her. “You’re all worked up, aren’t you, Amy?”
Her eyes squeezed shut, a single tear escaping the corner of one lid, tracing a path down her temple. “Stop it, Lucas. Please. You’re scaring me.”
“Scaring you?” I chuckled, a low, humorless sound. My hand settled on her thigh, just above her knee, my thumb slowly stroking the soft skin. “Or exciting you?”
She shook her head, a frantic, almost imperceptible movement. “No. I just… I want you to leave.”
“And miss all the fun?” I leaned over her, my face close to hers, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath, quick and shallow against my cheek. “You were having so much fun before I came in. What changed?”
My fingers, still on her thigh, began to creep upwards, inch by agonizing inch, towards the damp patch. Her body stiffened under my touch, but she didn’t pull away, frozen by fear or something else entirely.
“Lucas, please,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. Her eyes, still squeezed shut, were leaking more tears now, tiny rivers carving paths through the flush on her cheeks.
“Open your eyes, Amy.” My voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Look at me.”
Slowly, reluctantly, her eyelids fluttered open. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glistening with tears, met mine. They were filled with a mixture of shame, terror, and a flicker of something else, something primal and uncertain.
“Good girl.” My fingers reached the hem of her shorts, hooking under the fabric. “You like watching those cartoons, don’t you? All those girls getting taken, getting used.” My voice was a low murmur, a hypnotic cadence. “Does it make you wet, Amy? Make you want it?”
She let out a small, whimpering sob, shaking her head. “No.”
“Liar.” I pulled at the fabric, easing the shorts down her thighs, revealing the soft, pale skin beneath. Her small, plump hips, the faint curve of her belly. Her pink tank top rode up further, exposing her navel. The sight of her, so exposed, so vulnerable, sent a jolt of raw power through me. “Your body says something else.”
My gaze dropped to the swell of her chest, still covered by the tank top. The fabric clung to her, taut over the soft mounds of her breasts, her nipples evident as small, hard points. She was developing, growing, her body blooming into something new.
“You’re getting so big, Amy.” My voice was a low growl, my eyes fixed on her chest. “Such a pretty girl.”
She tried to cross her arms over her chest, a futile attempt at modesty. “Lucas, don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I smiled, a slow, dark smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Like I want to see everything? Like I want to feel everything?” My hands moved, one reaching up to her tank top, the other still on her thigh, pushing her shorts further down.
Her hands flew to mine, trying to stop me, but her grip was weak, trembling. “No, Lucas, stop! Please, you can’t!” Her voice was rising, a desperate, choked cry.
“I can.” My fingers found the hem of her tank top, pulling it up, slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Her small, round belly was revealed, then the soft curve of her ribs. The fabric bunched around her breasts, then slid free, exposing them fully.
They were small, but perfectly formed, rising gently from her chest, her nipples a darker rose color, already puckered and hard. They quivered slightly as the cool air hit them. She gasped, her eyes flying shut again in shame, her face burning crimson.
“Look at them,” I murmured, my voice thick with a desire that was suddenly overwhelming. “So perfect. So tempting.” My thumb brushed against the tip of one nipple, a feather-light touch that made her whole body arch slightly, a silent, involuntary response.
A whimper escaped her lips. “Don’t… don’t touch me there.”
“Why not?” I leaned in, my mouth hovering inches from her ear. “You were touching yourself there just now. And you liked it, didn’t you? You liked how it felt.” My tongue flicked out, tracing the delicate curve of her earlobe, sending shivers through her.
She shuddered, a full-body tremor. “No. I didn’t.”
“You’re lying again, Amy.” My hand moved from her breast, trailing down her belly, over her hip, pushing her shorts down past her knees. They snagged on her ankles, leaving her completely exposed from the waist down. Her small, pale pubic mound, covered in a sparse patch of soft, dark hair, was now visible. It was glistening, already wet with her arousal.
“Oh, Amy,” I breathed, my voice filled with a dark satisfaction. “Look how wet you are. You’re practically begging for it.”
Her eyes flew open, wide with horror as she saw her own exposed body, the undeniable evidence of her hidden desire. Her hands instinctively flew to cover herself, but I caught them, pinning them above her head with one of my hands. My other hand moved down, hovering inches above her pussy.
“You want me to touch it, don’t you?” My fingers brushed lightly against the soft hair, sending another jolt through her. She squirmed, trying to pull her hands free, but I held them firm.
“No! Don’t!” Her voice was a choked sob, tears streaming down her face now. Her hips bucked, a desperate, involuntary movement.
“Too late.” My fingers parted the damp hair, finding the swollen folds of her labia. They were plump, slick with her juices, already begging for touch. I rubbed my thumb over her clit, a small, hard bead that pulsed under my touch.
She cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound that was half-gasp, half-moan. Her body arched, her hips lifting off the bed, straining against my touch. Her eyes rolled back in her head for a moment, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“See?” I whispered, my voice rough with my own burgeoning arousal. “You like it. You want it. Just like those girls in your cartoon.” My fingers delved deeper, finding the slick entrance to her pussy. It was tight, so incredibly tight, but already yielding to my touch.
I slowly inserted a finger, then another, into her wet depths. She cried out again, a sound of surprise and something else, something that bordered on pleasure. Her muscles clenched around my fingers, a warm, pulsing grip.
“So tight,” I murmured, my voice thick. I began to move my fingers, in and out, stretching her, exploring her. The wet, shlicking sound of my fingers sliding in and out of her pussy filled the sudden quiet of the room, punctuated by her ragged gasps and whimpers.
“Oh… oh, God…” she panted, her head thrashing against the pillow. Her body was a taut bowstring, quivering under my ministrations. “Lucas… stop… please…”
“Don’t you want to feel what it’s like, Amy?” I leaned down, my mouth finding her neck, nipping gently at the soft skin, sucking a hickey into existence. “Don’t you want to know what those girls feel?”
My fingers continued their relentless rhythm, stretching her, making her wet. Her pussy was a hungry mouth, sucking at my fingers, her juices coating them, making them slide with ease. The smell of her arousal, musky and sweet, filled my nostrils, intoxicating me.
I pulled my fingers out with a wet *shlick* and she whined, a small, lost sound. I brought my hand up to my nose, inhaling deeply. “Mmm, you taste delicious, Amy. So sweet.” I brought my fingers to her mouth. “Clean it up.”
Her eyes widened, filled with a fresh wave of horror. “No! I can’t!”
“Yes, you can.” My voice was firm, unyielding. “Lick my fingers clean, little sister. Show me how good you are.” I pressed my fingers against her lips, forcing them open.
She whimpered, but her tongue, hesitant and trembling, flicked out, tasting her own juices from my fingers. She gagged slightly, but I held them there until she slowly, reluctantly, began to lick them clean, her eyes squeezed shut in shame.
“Good girl,” I praised, my voice a low rumble. Once my fingers were clean, I pulled them away. “Now, turn over.”
Her eyes flew open. “What? No! Lucas, please, don’t make me.”
“Turn over, Amy.” My voice was devoid of emotion, a cold command. “Unless you want me to do it for you.”
She hesitated, her body trembling, but the threat in my voice was clear. Slowly, reluctantly, she rolled onto her stomach, her face buried in her pillow, her small, rounded ass now presented to me. Her shorts were still bunched around her ankles, her legs splayed slightly, revealing the soft curve of her ass cheeks.
I reached out, my hands cupping her ass, kneading the soft flesh. Her skin was smooth, warm, and surprisingly firm. I spread her cheeks slightly, revealing the tight, pink rosebud of her asshole. My breath hitched.
“So tight,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the delicate folds. “You’re going to love this, Amy.”
She let out a muffled sob into the pillow. “No, Lucas, please. Don’t. It’ll hurt.”
“It’ll hurt at first,” I conceded, my voice still low and dark. “But then it’ll feel so good. You’ll beg for more.” I pulled down my pants, freeing my cock. It sprang out, hard and throbbing, already dripping pre-cum. I positioned myself behind her, my erection hovering over her ass.
“You’re going to take all of me, Amy,” I growled, my voice thick with lust. “You’re going to be mine.” I pressed the head of my cock against her tight opening, a blunt, insistent pressure.
She cried out, a high-pitched sound of pain and fear. “No! It’s too big! It won’t fit!”
“It will.” I pushed, slowly, relentlessly, the head of my cock stretching her, forcing its way in. She screamed, a raw, guttural sound, her body arching desperately against me.
“It hurts! Lucas, stop! Please, it hurts!” Tears streamed down her face, soaking the pillow.
I ignored her pleas, my teeth gritted, pushing harder. The tightness was incredible, a hot, constricting grip that threatened to burst me. A tearing sensation, a small rip, then my cock slid further in, inch by agonizing inch. She screamed again, a sound that tore at my ears, but I was beyond caring. The primal urge was too strong.
Finally, with a wet *schlock*, my cock was fully buried in her tight ass, stretching her to her absolute limit. She gasped, a ragged, choking sound, her body going rigid.
“See?” I panted, my voice strained. “You took it all, little sister. You’re so tight.” I began to move, slowly at first, withdrawing slightly, then pushing back in. The friction was intense, a burning pleasure that made my head spin.
She was still crying, her body shaking, but as I continued to move, a strange sound began to mix with her sobs. Small, involuntary moans, escaping her lips with each thrust.
“You like that, don’t you?” I whispered, my voice hoarse. I increased my pace, thrusting deeper, harder, my balls slapping against her ass with a wet *thwack*. “You like your brother fucking your ass, don’t you, Amy?”
Her moans grew louder, more frequent, a desperate, animalistic sound. Her hips began to move with mine, a small, almost imperceptible tilt, then a more pronounced push back against my cock. The shlicking of my cock sliding in and out of her ass, the rhythmic *thwack* of my balls, the wet squelching sounds of our bodies grinding together, filled the room.
“Oh, God… Lucas… more…” she whimpered, her voice raw, her earlier pleas replaced by a desperate craving. Her nails dug into the sheets, her back arching, her ass pushing back against me with increasing urgency.
I gripped her hips, pulling her tight against me, driving into her with savage force. Each thrust was a hammer blow, driving me deeper, stretching her wider. She cried out, a mixture of pain and ecstasy, her body convulsing around my cock.
“You’re so good, Amy,” I gasped, my breath ragged. “Such a good little slut.” I pounded into her, feeling the heat, the tightness, the way her muscles clenched and released around me. My vision blurred, my world narrowing to the exquisite sensation of her pussy gripping my cock.
My climax was building, a tidal wave crashing over me. I pulled out slightly, just enough to feel the air, then slammed back in, deep and hard, a final, guttural roar escaping my lips. I felt the hot, pulsing gush of my cum filling her tight ass, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
She cried out with me, her body spasming, her back arching one last time, a shiver running through her. We lay there, tangled together, my cock still buried deep inside her, both of us panting, the only sounds the ragged gasps of our breath and the slow, wet drips of my cum leaking from her ass.
After a moment, I pulled out, my cock slick and wet, leaving her ass gaping and slick with cum. She lay limp, her face still buried in the pillow, her body trembling. I pulled up my pants, the sense of accomplishment, of dominance, settling over me.
“Get up, Amy.” My voice was calmer now, but still firm. “Clean yourself up.”
She didn’t move, just lay there, her body shaking with silent sobs.
I reached down, grabbing her arm, pulling her roughly to a sitting position. Her face was streaked with tears and snot, her eyes swollen and red. She looked broken, but a strange, dark satisfaction pulsed within me.
“Look at me.” I forced her chin up, making her meet my gaze. “You’re going to remember this, Amy. You’re going to remember who owns you.”
She stared at me, her eyes wide and blank, devoid of the earlier fear, replaced by a chilling emptiness. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she made no sound. Her lips were swollen, her hair a tangled mess.
“Now, clean yourself up,” I repeated, my voice leaving no room for argument. “And don’t tell anyone. Understand?”
She just nodded, a small, barely perceptible movement, her eyes still locked on mine, a silent, chilling agreement. The house was still quiet, the heavy silence now filled with a new, dark resonance. The only sound was the soft, wet squelching as she slowly, mechanically, began to clean the cum from her ass, her eyes never leaving mine.