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  Sister Bound

  cecilia lansing

  sister bound

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 Cecilia Lansing

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. Fair use is, of course, fair use.

  e–book edition

  ISBN 978-90-819094-1-9

  First edition (revision a), April 2012

  Cover art by Cecilia Lansing

  Cover image (lady in pajama pants) Copyright © Nikolai Pozdeev, 2012

  Cover image (rope) Copyright © lenetstan, 2012

  Both used under license from Shutterstock.com

  * * *

  Supplemental License Notes

  Notwithstanding the license as stated in the previous section, and without releasing any rights associated with this work, you are permitted—and urged—to share this e–book with your friends, family, and acquaintances. When you do so, please point out to them where—if they like it—they can buy a copy of their own:

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  If you happen to actually be one of the recipients of this book through other means than by having paid for it, I hope you'll enjoy it, and decide it was or will be worth a little bit of your money. If you are willing and able, please go to this book's page at Amazon (US) (or in the UK or at Smashwords) and buy your own copy. Or, if you are unable to afford it at this time (a situation I've found myself in once or twice), I'll grant you a dispensation and hope you'll remember me when you hit better times.

  If you do have some money to spare, but not the full amount, drop by on this book's page on my website and make a small donation.

  If you have an opinion about this book you'd like to share with me (positive or negative), please do e-mail me at [email protected]. I can take constructive criticism, but please don't be mean.

  I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Love,

  Cecilia Lansing

  * * *

  books by cecilia lansing

  First Time Fuck Buddies

  Sister Bound

  more to come soon…

  * * *

  find more books by cecilia lansing

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  She also has her own place on the Internet where you can find her books and more…

  Sister Bound

  His games had always excited me. When we were younger they had been mostly harmless. Although I had often come out of them with rope burns and chafed ankles and wrists. That was all part of the excitement. Being told I was naughty and was going to be punished. Playing the pirate or the robber or the Indian that was captured and imprisoned or tied up with rope.

  Being tied up was always my favorite. Prison wasn’t nearly as much fun, as that left my hands and feet free. Rope was restrictive, uncomfortable and sometimes even painful. David became very good at tying me up and leaving me unable to free myself.

  Looking back on it, I see I was slowly discovering my submissive streak. David was discovering his dominant side. Little did I know.

  Somewhere along the line it had stopped feeling safe. Still very exciting, but scary. Unpredictable. Only, why did I secretly still crave our ’games’?

  * * *

  “Look what I found.”

  I looked up from the stupid teenage magazine I was reading. I really was getting too old for this little–girl stuff.

  I gasped as I saw what he was dangling from his hand.

  “David!” I hissed. “Where’d you get those?” I glanced around, even though I knew our parents were away for the evening. They’d be home late tonight, they had said.

  I knew immediately what he had in mind and felt the heat rise to my face. I hated that I blushed so easily. Especially now. It robbed my next words of their power.

  “No, David. I don’t want to play a game tonight.”

  “Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes.” That was such a bullshit line. Even if he had partly guessed right. I wanted to play. I just didn’t want to want to play.

  Our games had been drifting into unknown territory. They left me confused. About myself, but more so about David. He had always been the best brother a girl could wish for. Okay, he teased me a lot, and was sometimes downright annoying and stupid. But he had been my older brother since I was two, when our parents moved in with each other. They hadn’t married, so technically we weren’t even officially related, but I couldn’t remember a time without him. To me, he was just my big brother. I never actually thought about the fact that he had different biological parents. I’m sure he felt the same. He had always acted that way, in any case.

  One of the changes that confused me was that our games had stopped originating in our fantasy world. No pirate captures, robbers caught stealing or Indians tied up in the heat of a wild–west shoot–out. The tie–up games had devolved to just that: tie–up games. David would show up in my room and ask me if I wanted to play. Confused, but still liking the feeling of being helpless, I nearly always played along.

  Then last weekend he had walked into my room unannounced. I thought our parents were downstairs, but they had gone out for some shopping. He walked up to me, took one of my wrists and tied a rope around it. Surprised and confused, I was late reacting, so before I got around to struggling, he had already secured my right wrist and was busy tying my left to it behind my back. Being younger and quite a bit smaller than him, it didn’t make a difference anyway. I still would have ended up tied to my bed. But something definitely had changed in our relationship.

  Here he was now with a pair of handcuffs dangling from his hand. And a wicked grin on his face.

  I debated if I should dash out of reach, but he was standing right next to me. Besides, eventually he would catch up with me and he would do what he wanted anyway. That had always been part of the attraction. The fact that I was helpless when David wanted to do something.

  I wasn’t so sure about that anymore. My body was, though. I could feel my excitement rise, the adrenaline starting to pump through my veins. The butterflies in my stomach starting to stir.

  I’m not entirely sure why I tried to escape him, even though I knew it would be hopeless in the end. I wonder now if I would be in the same bind if I hadn’t, because the handcuffs incident seems to have been a turning point in our relationship.

  My hand lashed out as I jumped up from the couch, trying to bat his hands away from me before he had a chance to capture me. Instead of his hands I swiped the handcuff he had been dangling from his right hand. It swung up and straight into his mouth. It worked better than I could have anticipated as he cried out in pain and surprise and nearly fell on his ass as he jumped back. I didn’t pause, already heading for the kitchen door at top speed, and now spurred on by fear of retaliation. His cry had not been very loud, so I wasn’t sure if he’d been hurt or not, but I figured I’d better have some distance between us before finding out.

  Of course I found out.

  Thinking I had made a clean getaway as I reached my bedroom I dashed inside and slammed the door. Before I could turn around and lock it behind me, David had pounded up and pushed it open again. I threw my weight against the door, but it was too late. He had it open far enough to snake his arm through and trying to avoid his grabs at me I lost the battle for the door and fell back to the far side of my room. Confident now, he slowly opened the door all the way, stepped through and silently closed it behind him.
And locked it. We were the only two in the house, so that was very much only a symbolic gesture, but it wasn’t lost on me.

  “David.” I tried to put some authority into my voice. “I don’t want to do this, David. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  His upper lip was swollen and red. It looked painful, but not too bad. I was glad I hadn’t broken his skin.

  “Oh, you’re not. Sorry. Not yet. But you will be.” He said it with a smile, but his voice was menacing. Scary. Exciting.

  He advanced on me slowly. Already backed up against the window sill, I had nowhere to go.

  “David, this isn’t funny. Leave me alone and get out of my room!”

  I glared at him. It didn’t have any effect. Just a few steps and he was standing right in front of me. I looked up into his face to try to read what he was planning. Deliberately, he reached for my wrist. I quickly put both my hands behind my back, lifting my chin in defiance. He just gripped my shoulder and turned me around. He pushed me up against the window, the sill digging into my thighs and my hands moving up to push back against the glass.

  In a flash he closed one of the ’cuffs around my right wrist and pulled that hand behind my back. Gripping my other wrist with his hand, he pulled that one behind my back, too. Seconds later, the second ’cuff closed. I was once again helpless, but this time with honest–to–god handcuffs keeping my hands pinned behind my back.

  I looked over my shoulder at him, but he was focused on my wrists caught in the ’cuffs. He had his hand planted between my shoulder blades, still pushing my chest and the side of my face against the glass.

  “Let me go, David. You had your fun, now undo them.”

  His eyes looked up into mine. He saw my uncomfortable position up against the window and let go, stepping back a pace. He smiled.

  “I might have had my fun, but you haven’t had your punishment yet, sis.” He pointed up at his swollen lip.

  “Look. I’m sorry about that. It was an accident! What are you going to do, anyway. Spank me?”

  Challenging. He would never lay a hand on his kid sister.

  “Hmm… that’s an interesting suggestion, Wendy.”

  “What? No! Wait!” He had caught hold of the short chain between the ’cuffs and pulled me backwards. To my bed.

  “Wait! David! Stop!” I nearly tripped over my pajamas lying on the floor. David held me up by pulling up on the handcuffs. They dug painfully into my wrists and the pressure on my arms behind my back shot up into my shoulders. “Ow! Let go, that hurts!”

  He eased up on the ’cuffs, but continued to pull me back. Reaching the bed, he sat down, holding on to chain between my wrists.

  “Look, David. Very funny. Now stop joking around and undo them!” I twisted around to look at him over my shoulder.

  I mistook the slightly intent look on his face. “David! Tell me you have the keys!” The breath caught in my throat, afraid he would have to—well, what? How do you get out of ’cuffs if you don’t have the keys? Ask your parents? Call the police? A locksmith? That would be so humiliating. So much more humiliating than it already was, standing in front of my brother in my own bedroom with my hands ’cuffed behind my back.

  “Of course I have the keys, I’m not stupid.”

  My relief was short–lived as it dawned on me that hadn’t been what he had been thinking about. He pulled me back and down, forcing me to sit down next to him. Then, still with one hand gripping the handcuffs, he grabbed my collar at the back of my neck with his other hand and heaved me face–down over his lap. I shrieked.

  Then, switching hands, so that his left hand was holding my ’cuffs, he pulled my arms way up, putting pressure on my shoulders and forcing me to keep my head down near the floor. My shoulders hurt.

  “David! What the fuck are you doing! This isn’t funny anymore!” I yelled at his ankle. I was really angry now. But even more scared. And still more excited. I hated myself for the excitement. David just ignored me.

  He sat like that for a long while, ignoring me yelling at him, doing I don’t know what. Checking out my ass, probably. Or stealing himself for what he did next.

  The first stroke hitting down on my ass jolted me out of my screaming fit. Too surprised to do anything for a moment, it slowly sank in that David had really done it. He had spanked me on my ass. Not very hard. It didn’t even really hurt, through my jeans and panties still covering me. But that first stroke changed everything.

  David was probably as surprised as I that he had actually done it. Silence hovered around us for what seemed like an eternity. Then I let out the breath I had held in surprise, and started yelling at him again.

  “You fucking bastard! Let me up NOW! I’m so going to tell mommy and daddy—”

  The next stroke robbed me of my voice, because that one did hurt. A lot. He had put a lot of strength into that one. But the real reason it stopped me cold was that I had expected David to snap out of it after that first hit. Realize what he was doing and backing off in a hurry. Letting me go. Apologizing for what he had done.

  Having him follow that first weak spank up with another one, let alone one that stung so much, scared me silent. Terrified and excited beyond measure at the same time. I was so not in control here.

  Was he really going to give me a spanking? His swollen lip really had been an accident. Even he had to realize that. And he was usually very good at being ’older and wiser’ than his little sister as our parents often said to him when he was told to suck up the injustice done to him by me. So why hadn’t he stopped and called it even: his swollen lip in exchange for the humiliation he put me through, ’cuffing me, pulling me over his lap and slapping me on the butt.

  Before I could think of anything, he hit me again. And continued hitting me. Alternating between my ass cheeks. Not as hard as the second stroke, but harder than the first. I was really feeling them, even through my jeans and panties.

  “David! Stop!” I wailed at him. He just ignored me.

  With deliberation now, he landed hit after hit on my ass. It was really hurting me, but for some reason I fought not to cry. Somewhere inside I knew tears would probably make him stop. But another part of me was too proud to give in to that easy way out. Or maybe the part of me that was winning out was the one that was really excited by what was happening. The burning in my ass was turning into a heated glow beneath the pain. And that heat was spreading out into the rest of my body.

  Before I could fully analyze my strange reaction to the painful swats to my butt, David stopped. He had hit me probably two dozen times, maybe more. Enough to light up my ass. Panting hard and fast, I was dizzy from all the blood that had run up to my head. David still had my cuffed hands pushed up between my shoulders, forcing my head down towards the floor.

  Sensing he was done with his humiliating spanking, I wriggled on his lap to signal my discomfort. David let go of the ’cuffs and grabbed the back of my collar again. Nearly choking me, he pulled my head up and I slid to the ground on my knees on the other side of his legs.

  The aftermath was just as confusing as the whole ordeal itself had been. Although I wasn’t sure if ’ordeal’ was the right word for something that had given me such intense feelings, and not all of them bad.

  David undid the ’cuffs, and was gone. I wasn’t able to look at him. After he had left my room, I stood up and gently rubbed my ass. The pain had actually dissipated already, but a warm afterglow still lingered. Walking over to the door, I locked it again, closed the blinds and undressed.

  Standing in front of my full–length mirror I twisted around so I could survey the damage he had done to my butt. Apart from a reddish tinge, there wasn’t much to see. I sure felt it though. Not pain, but a slight throbbing, and a warm glow that reached somewhere deep inside. I turned back facing the mirror and let my left hand drift into the wisps of hair above my pussy, lightly scratching a path to my slit. Stopping for a moment I looked up into my own eyes. Looking for what, I have no idea.

  Too exhausted to second�
�guess, or worry, or think at all anymore, I just let go.

  When my orgasm hit seemingly only seconds later, I found myself on the bed, on top of the sheets. Sweaty, satiated. Humiliated, disgusted, drained. Confused, above all. Here I was with a red ass because David had spanked me. Pulled me over his lap and hit me with his bare hand. And the first thing I do afterwards is masturbate to a shattering orgasm. What kind of sick pervert had I turned into?

  The days following this encounter were strained. Constantly afraid that mom or dad would notice something, constantly afraid to be caught out alone by David again, and constantly drifting into unwanted fantasies where exactly that happened. Waking up in the middle of the night excited, panting and wet from dreams—nightmares, maybe—featuring ropes and shackles, spankings, pain and, impossibly, pleasure. The more humiliating the dream, the more excited I seemed to wake up. Confused was becoming my default state of mind.

  David acted like nothing had happened. I caught him looking at me constantly, but he continued to be the good big brother. I was managing to evade being alone with him, so maybe he behaved because there was always someone else present. We never spoke a word about what had happened. For a long while anyway.

  Not long after all this happened, David moved out of the house to attend college. He was home for holidays, but then usually caught up with his friends around town. I didn’t see much of him, except at family dinners. We kind of drifted apart. He had his life, I had mine.

  As suddenly our games stopped, I caught myself missing them. Even—in the deepest recesses of my mind—the last time. I missed our simple cops and robbers games, being tied up, unable to escape, confident in the safety of my brothers care.

  I missed my big brother.