I'm Now a Funcle

The knife didn't cut the satin all the way through, but breached the fabric enough for me to see that my aim was good, and also that I hadn't cut her. So, with some help from a finger to assist the knife, the opening was completed, and the finger pushed through, to be greeted by a warmth and a wetness. The warmth was as one would expect, but the wetness? Was that how she always was, or was this starting to affect her, as it was me?

Soon I had two fingers inside her, curled them up and found her G Spot. She liked that, or at least her eyes and her hips gave me that impression. Again, gently using the knife I enlarged the hole, until I could liberate the whole of her lips from within their satin prison. They seemed to enjoy being freed from their confinement and spread out wide. I helped them along by taking hold of them one at a time and pulling until I could pull them no more and they slipped from my grip with a snap. I guessed that I was hitting the correct spots, as she continued to respond to the stimulation.

Was I imagining it or was there a soft humming sound coming from her throat?

Now that she was almost totally naked, I had a burning desire to complete the process, and so taking the knife, I slipped it under one of the pieces of elastic at her hip, and cut through it, before repeating the motion on the other piece. The small triangle of silk was only now held in place either by her lips still protruding through it, or the wetness coming from them. However, a quick flick with the point of the knife, and the triangle flew away and disappeared.

She put out her hands as if to grab the knife, and then realising the consequence, quickly averted the action by spreading her fingers as wide apart as they would go, and then sucking in her breath at the closeness of the call. The reality of her situation seemed to hit her, and she started to tremble again.

"Fuck bitch you're built." It came out involuntarily, it was a compliment, and I hoped that she took it as one, and then I noticed something else...pubic hair.

"I'm shocked, you're not shaved, but you used to be?"

Carol dropped her eyes, bit her lip, but said nothing.

"Have you stopped shaving?"

Again, she said nothing, just shaking her head slightly.

Sensing that she was hiding something from me, I dragged the knife across her stomach, and holding her gaze firmly, moved it slowly along the crease at the top of her legs, before putting the handle at her opening. She was still trembling, and seemingly more so than before. Her hands were shaking and her fingers again reaching out as if to grab the knife away from me, only for the danger of that action to impact on her, and she froze them in midair, then withdrew them back onto her stomach.

Seeing her submission, I then used the knife handle to spread her lips, and was intrigued to see her slime making a bridge from her to it...she was indeed very wet!

Continuing to gently move the handle up and down just inside her, I turned my eyes to Carols', they were closed, was it in fear? I thought probably not, as if it were to be fear they would have been wide open. Other emotions were maybe at play inside of her.

I couldn't help myself, and my eyes returned to admire the body of my twenty four year old sister lying naked, fully on show, legs spread wide, no kids marks on her flat stomach, large breasts, pretty fit, and despite the anger that had been in me, I had to admit that she was fucking hot. In fact, that anger had dissipated some time ago, probably about the time that I started to push myself into her mound. It struck me that whatever turns the rest of the day took, I was the one who would make the decisions that I wanted to make, not her.

Still running the handle along between her lips, I brought my hand down and ran my palm over her pubic hair, I was fascinated by it. I'd of course seen photos of women with hair before, but had never been with someone who'd actually let it grow, absolutely everyone that I knew shaved, even Carol, or so I'd thought.

Again I asked, "Why haven't you shaved?"

She shook her head, or was she still trembling?

"Tell me why you haven't shaved?"

Her silence indicated that she'd no intentions of telling me.

For all of this time, I'd been moving the handle gently inside her, and running the palm of my other hand across the hair. It was soft, not at all unpleasant or prickly as I'd thought that it would be.

On the window ledge, a few feet away from me were two small plastic pump bottles, one was Mums' hand cream for after she'd done the dishes, and the other was soap for her to wash her hands. My eyes opened wide as I saw the soap.

"You should be shaved, and I'm going to do it."

"NO!" she screamed at me, and then again, "NO!"

I'd obviously hit a nerve with that one, one that ensured that no matter what she said to me, or how firmly she said it, she was going to be shaved.

This was payback time. "Oh yes my pretty sister, you're going home to Eric as bald as the day that you were born."

"NO!" she again screamed. "Please don't, I'll do anything that you want, but please don't shave me," she tried to get up only to be met by the knife once again pressing onto her throat.

Her fear was making her frantic now, which made me even more determined to go ahead with it. It didn't matter how often, or how loudly she yelled out, she was going to be shaved. Whatever it was that was bothering her, made it even more appealing to me to make up for the years of torment she'd put me through.

She sat up and all at once became assertive, "Don't you dare even think about it pal, if you shave me, you'll have to answer to Eric." Now Eric wasn't a bad guy, but physically he wasn't in my league, and I knew that he'd never last even one round if it came to a punch up. I pulled the handle out of her and said, "And if you don't lie back and shut the fuck up, you'll have to answer to Mack The Knife."

She failed to see the humor in that, the only emotion in her was fear, as she begged me, "Please don't, Eric's the only one that can do that to me."

"No he's not, with this knife in my hand, I can do whatever I want to you right now." As the knife pushed harder against her windpipe Carol was forced to move back until she was lying flat on the benchtop again. To help her to realise that I was going to do as I wanted, I ran the blade down across her breast, stopping at her nipple where I worked it back and forth, back and forth several times. Before running it all the way down that lovely flat stomach, over her soon to be removed pubic hair, then once again allowing the handle to enter her.

"Do we understand each other now?"

With tears in her eyes she nodded.

"No more bullshit from you now?"

She shook her head, the tears running down her cheeks, causing her mascara to run all over her face.

My bitch sister Carol was now mine, maybe the last few years had been worth it, because I knew that wherever this went, I would enjoy the rest of this day, and would remember it with great fondness forever, guaranteed.

I took the handle from within her, put it down on the benchtop between her thighs, and then used the time for the fingers of both hands to further explore Carols most private place. Fuck she was wet.

"Are you always this wet?"

Her eyes flicked to meet mine, and then dropped down to her chest, avoiding contact, her silence told me the answer.

She was as wet as I could remember any woman being in my life as I continued to enjoy the ownership of my sister, and as it was obviously only temporary I ran my hands and fingers all over, and in and out of her body making the most of the limited time that I had.

Was she actually getting wetter? I certainly thought so as her mucus refused to let go from my fingers. Strand after strand stretched from her to me hanging on like an umbilical cord. She was certainly now starting to respond a little by raising her hips to meet my invading fingers and her breaths were coming in shorter sharper bursts.

My hands were soaked.

Eventually the urge to shave her became too much to resist, so I went across and got the soap.

Carol must've felt me move as her eyes opened, followed me across to the bottle, and all the way back, before saying in a frightened pleading voice, "David...please don't, only Eric's allowed to do that."

It seemed to be a last attempt to sway my mind, and when I showed her the knife she knew it wouldn't work, but she'd had to give it one last try, after which she simply lay back and closed her eyes, as if resigned to her fate. But she did continue to shake her head, and whispering said, "No, please don't, only Eric..."

I put the soap onto the benchtop between her legs to allow me further time to invade her private space, soon I had two fingers as deep inside her as they would go, with my thumb skidding across her clitoris, lightly at first, but with more and more pressure, until the little button was popping out, complete with a gasp from Carol, and a thrust of her hips.

This was now officially good fun, as we'd moved to a position of not only my being in control, but of my sister almost out of control, the noises and movements that she was making made that clear. Obviously, my fingers inside, and my thumb working her clitoris over were getting to her as well, this made it more likely that she would put up less resistance when the time came.

It was at this point that I realised that there was a very real possibility that I was going to fuck Carol, that would be so much better than punching her in the mouth, and would have a much longer lasting, and a more profound effect.

Ceaselessly my hands and fingers continued to invade my sister, until I took up the knife and after running the palms of my hands over her pubic hair softly, tenderly, and almost lovingly. I replaced my palms with the side of the blade, running that over the hair. I wasn't trying to shave her whilst dry, but simply sliding it over her silky down.

I did this several times, and then for some reason things suddenly changed, so that there was now a different Carol lying there. One who moved her hand from her side, ran it up and over her breast, stopping to pat her nipple with her palm several times. She then ran the hand up her face and though her hair, before moving it back to her breast. Clasping it firmly three or four times she then found her nipple, which she proceeded to pull as far away from her body as she possibly could get it, until it tore itself from her grip, causing her to gasp.

She repeated this maneuver several more times, seemingly stretching it even further every time until it reached its limits, and then the next time when Carol stretched it, it went even further away again. If I'd done that to her it would have been classed as domestic violence, but in this situation, it just served to underline the close relationship between pleasure and pain.

She was in pain, and loving it, the noises she was making proved that.

What had caused her to do this? What'd changed to make her this new person who was actively participating, in what only a few short moments ago had seemed to be absolutely the worst thing that could possibly happen to her? It was clear that pulling on her own nipples as she was, was only going to stimulate her more. It was going to make it even harder for her to achieve any level of control of herself, let alone me. It was as if she was encouraging me to do whatever I wanted to with her.

As I watched her I knew that anything was possible now, she was an awesome sight as she abused her body in that way, effectively playing right into my hands. I was fascinated at the turn that this had taken, I couldn't take my eyes of this person who used to be my sister, but was now this new person putting on a show for me like no other.

Eventually of course, all good things must come to an end, and so almost with reluctance, because the show that she was putting on was so riveting, I spread her lips open wide for one last time to admire the pink and wetness of her insides. I held them open for a few seconds more before setting about the task at hand...removing my sisters' pubic hair.

Carol was still pulling on her nipples as I picked up the soap, pressed a measure into the palm of my hand and spread it over the hair. Her eyes flickered open briefly as I made contact, and then she went back to doing what it was that was she was doing to herself.

Two more squirts and the lather was sufficient to cover all the offending thatch, and when it mixed with her slime it really started to foam up.

I picked up the knife, "Keep still."

Weakly she protested, "Please don't," without moving her fingers from her nipples.

She and I both knew that it was futile, she was going to be shaved, and we also both knew that at this point Carol had accepted as fact the inevitability of her situation. She stopped pulling on her nipple as she steeled herself for that inevitability, however she made one last feeble effort of, "Please don't, David I of beg you."

I choose to ignore her.

Even though she knew what was going to happen, she still flinched as I used the thumb and index finger of my left hand to tension her skin before I moved the knife down, her body again flinched as the first touch of steel registered in her brain.

"Don't cut me for fucks' sake David...please"

I knew that I'd done a really good job of sharpening the knife when it glided over her skin as if it were silk. Like a lawn mower removing grass from a lawn, my Pinnacle Skinner removed the pubic hair from my sister. Slowly and carefully one stroke at a time it came away clean.

When the knife was full of foam and hair, I reached up and wiped it off on her empty bra cup. Carol raised her head and looked at my deposit before sinking back, the fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by a more haunted look. It wasn't just a look of acceptance, it was much, much deeper than that as she continued to torment her breasts.

Her skin flinched again at the next touch of my hand on her stomach, and then she did a strange thing, she put her hand over mine as I pulled the skin tight, and then proceeded to lightly run her fingers over it, almost lovingly.

This was a new development.

Having started the job there was no hesitation on my part in continuing, more and more strokes with the blade meant less and less hair on Carol. Three more times I left a pile of foam and hair on her bra, but she never looked up. She did however take her hand back to resume the abuse of her nipple.

Soon it was finished, I walked over to the rail to get Mums' hand towel, Carol knew that I'd gone but she no move at all, remaining spread open wide...and bald. With one hand still pulling on her nipple she slid the other one down over her stomach, paused, and then moved beyond to cup her baldness in her hand.

She had tears in her eyes, "David, you shouldn't have done that, I wanted Eric to be the one."

For the first time, I felt a pang of regret, "Maybe if in the past...?"

She cut me off with a wave of her hand, "Yeah I know, but that's how brothers and sisters have always behaved, I asked you to not do it, and you just ignored me, FUCK YOU."

The yell startled me, and as I cast my eyes down, I noticed that she wasn't just cupping her mound, her fingers were actually stroking herself.

Moving back to between her legs I moved her fingers away and used Mums' towel to wipe the last vestiges of soap and hair from her, and then stood back to admire my handiwork.

"Happy arsehole?" She snarled.

I nodded, but looking again more closely said, "No damn it, I've missed a couple, I'll need a minute more and then I will be." Retrieving the knife, and making a big production of taking one hair between my thumb and forefinger, I pulled it as far as it would stretch from her body, before taking the knife and severing the hair as close to her skin as I could get.

Her eyes were like saucers as she felt the skin being stretched, and then the knife sliding along it before the release from the hair as the blade did its work.

"Now for the next one," I looked and saw that she was biting her bottom lip quite hard, so hard that if she kept it up, she was certainly going to bleed.

Once I'd identified the next hair, I didn't pull on it, but held it tight and waited. Not knowing what I was doing her eyes opened, and it was at that instant I pulled and then removed the solitary hair. I had eye contact with her for a brief moment before her eyes closed again, she put her head back, and moaned.

As I picked out the next hair and pulled on it, I saw her hips rise as if drawn by the hair, again, and again as I pulled the hair up, her hips rose. As I sliced that one off, her hips again rose, followed by the now expected moan and then a sudden slight spreading further apart of her knees.

When she did that it was possible for me to see the true extent of her wetness, a small stream of frothy white liquid was slowly moving down into the valley between her cheeks. As I watched, Carols' right hand slipped between her thighs and lightly rubbed her shaved area, and again moaned softly.

I let her rub herself for some seconds, accompanied by more moaning, before moving her hands away, and then selecting another wayward hair to be subjected to the knife treatment. This was the last one that I could see, it was so close to the actual lip that I had a lot of difficulty getting hold of it due to her wetness. As a result I ended up pulling on her lip, stretching it out from her body before letting go as it slipped through my fingers...there was that moan again.

I figured that as she seemed to like that, I'd do it again, which I did, with the same result. She liked it so much that I then used both hands to alternatively pull her lips as far apart as they would go, with the same result. The effect of this was to cause her to lift both of her legs off the benchtop into the air, arch her back, shudder and then call out.

This was now the time for me to remove the last hair.

To this point in my life I'd never even imagined that anyone could become as involved as this, I'd been so totally consumed by making sure that she didn't manage to gain control, that the possibility of taking my sister sexually had never even entered my mind...until now.

Sex with ones' sister is not the sort of thing that most of us would ever consider, perhaps only in the more uncouth moments spent with drink and friends, would a comment be made. But I wasn't drunk, and I wasn't with anyone other than Carol, who seemed to have now warmed to my presence.

By now the shaved area was quite red, so I went and got the bottle of Mums' hand cream, squirted a long line of it from her chin to her groin area, repeated it, and then again for a third time.

Carol watched me warily, but any thoughts that she had remained hers, as I brought the knife back up and used it to cut through the last parts of her dress still in place, the two pieces over her shoulders.

Running my hands up over her stomach I spread the hand cream all over her, from her shaved area to her shoulders, and back again, up and back, up and back, spending the appropriate amount of time on her 'good bits'. She seemed to appreciate having the insides of her thighs massaged all the way from her knees to the crease at the top of her legs. Several times I made as if to actually touch her vagina, but pulled away at the last second. She liked that too, raising her hips to meet the non-invading fingers.

Knowing that I would eventually have to make the move on her, I decide that the time was fast approaching, so I started to pat her lips. Just softly at first, but then a little harder, and then a little harder again until I was using quite an amount of force for such a sensitive area, striking her up and down, and across both ways. Her crotch, already red was getting redder by the second as more and more blood rushed to the surface.