My Black Sheep Ch. 01

*click*

*click*

*click*

"Good," she said. "Now really push your hips forward. I wanna see the rope buried in that cunt of yours."

I groaned and hesitated for a long moment, looking at her and trying to beg with my eyes.

*click*

"Perfect," Amelia said. "Now do it. Push out your cunt for me."

My torment felt complete. I didn't want to do anything she was telling me, I didn't want her seeing me like that, and I really didn't want pictures of me doing it. Most of all, I didn't want the pleasure I knew would come with it. But I had no choice. Amelia was calling the shots, and I fucking owed her big time.

I did as she asked. The rope and costume were making such a large obstruction between my lips already, but I leaned into it as hard as I could stand. I pushed, and I thrust, and I cried, and all the while the camera clicked away. Amelia moved this way and that. She stepped back. She moved in, sometimes getting embarrassingly close-up shots of my vagina and breasts. Her eyes were like pools of fire.

After a little while, she started turning on some of the lights. Not very much, but enough to make up for the setting sun. In the back of my mind, I tried to remember how long we'd been going, or what time it was when we started, but the longer we went the more hazy everything felt. I barely noticed when she changed out the roll of film, and she smirked while she wound it through. The pressure of the ropes, and the futility, and the humiliation, were one thing, but the real screaming terror was the thought of being caught.

Once she had put that in my head, nothing else even rated. Every chance I could, I looked around and that only pulled the rope more tightly against my poor vagina.

I closed my eyes when she told me to. I hung my head. I strained until the muscles and veins popped just the way she wanted them, when she wanted them to, for shots of my biceps or calves. I gave her everything she asked for because it was the only thing I could think to do. I even got used to the taste of my own panties, heavy as they were with the taste of my sweaty cunt.

I started crying the first time I'd called it a cunt in my head. Amelia seemed pleased, though she couldn't have known why. I suppose it didn't matter as far as she was concerned.

It was a surprise the first time she slapped me. She didn't say anything to prepare me for it, but on the other hand she'd already said enough. I moaned, and the recoil from the slap caused the rope to dig in between my labia with astonishing intensity. I sobbed and squirmed, and then she did it again. And then she took a picture of my cheek.

I was shocked. I'd never been hit before, by anyone. I'd never even been spanked, and yet my sister had just slapped me. Twice. There was confusion too. It didn't seem possible that she could hate me so much that she needed to hit me. Had she been carrying that anger all along and I'd just never known? How could I have been so blind?

I did deserve it. She was right. I had failed her as a sister that night, and no amount of sorry would ever make up for that.If slapping me makes her feel better, I thought,then so be it. I wish she'd done it years ago.

I just wished the rope wasn't so deep in my pussy, and I wished it all didn't feel so good. How could I still be turned on after all of that? How could this be causing me so much pleasure? I knew I could have dealt with the pain and humiliation, but with all the sweet sensations mixed in the whole thing was turning into a mindfuck of the highest magnitude.

Sweat was pouring off of me in big, fat beads. My tits didn't need the fake stuff anymore. The shine coming off of them from Amelia's lights was blinding. The costume was completely drenched too, sticking to my skin in the most unpleasant way imaginable. No leotard had ever been like that. I felt as dirty on the outside I did on the inside.

"Look at you," she whispered in my ear. "You aren't an elite gymnast. Your tits are way too fucking big, and you're an even bigger fool if you think you earned your scores withhard work. You're just an attention-seeking little slut who loves to show off her big fat cunt to thousands of people. You act so naive, so nice, but your cunt is fucking dripping. You've ruined those shorts with your cum and sweat. You're nothing but a slut with giant tits, and if Dad has his way you won't even have those."

With my mouth still stuffed I had to breathe through my nose, and every other breath was a sniffle. It was all true; I couldn't deny a single word of it. Still so wet. So much pleasure. So much confusion. How could I be crying and aroused at the same time? My chest rose and fell in haggard, ragged fits of hysteria, and all the while Amelia continued to lurk, and instruct, and take pictures. She recorded every sordid moment of my torture, from every conceivable angle, and through it all she smiled.

It was even more of a surprise when she reached into my mouth and pulled out the panties. I tried to recoil from her touch, but there just wasn't very far to go. Everywhere the rope touched my skin was sore.

"Easy," she said softly. "Easy. You're alright. Here." She raised a bottle of water to my lips and tipped it slowly, and it washed down my parched throat. Little by little, it erased the earthy taste of my panties. "You're alright now. You're alright." She wasn't looking me in the eye anymore.

"Did you get what you needed?" I croaked.

She ran her tongue over her lip and nodded, as she looked down at my cheek and neck. She kept opening her mouth like she was going to say something, but nothing came out. She just gave me another long drink of water.

"Thank you," I said.

She merely nodded.

"I hope it was worth it."

She blinked a few times, very rapidly, and scratched at the back of her neck. Which, in turn, made my skin crawl.Had to be a coincidence, I told myself.Sometimes skin just gets itchy. She started methodically moving through her equipment, and packing it up, but made no effort to release me yet.

"Are you going to sell those? The..." My throat failed me, and I tried to swallow the dust and ash in my mouth. "The pictures?"

Her tongue darted across her lips as she turned and looked at my feet. "Yes."

"What's the going rate to tie your sister to a tree and... I don't know, do whatever the fuck this was?"

"Ten thousand dollars."

"Ten thou..." My voice cut out, even though my lips and tongue continued to form the rest of the words in silence. "Ten?"

"That's just for the pictures," she said, mumbling slightly. "More for the... costume. And the panties."

"Ten."

"Thousand," Amelia finished.

"How... I don't..."

"Shel," she said, this time looking as far up as my waist, "trust me. You don't want to know."

I blinked and nodded slowly. Maybe it was because it was easier to let her carry the sordid details, and maybe it was because I really did still trust her, but I pushed for no further details.

"Ames, I'm sorry about what happened, okay? I've never forgiven myself. I was... I was a stupid little girl. I thought Missy had set you free, and I never thought to check on you. Missy thought I'd done it. Mom and Dad thought you were upstairs with us. It was awful. I still wake up sometimes, jolt up out of bed, and yell 'She's still down by the river.' I... I... Everytime I try to call you and you don't pick upimmediately, that's where I worry that you are. Still seven. Still crying."

She said nothing as she packed up the batteries, the spray bottles, and the extra rope. And scratched at the back of her neck again. Warning bells went off in my head when she made a fist in her hair, right at the lowest part of her scalp, and pulled. Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed her fist tightly. It was only for a moment, and then she covered it by scratching at the same spot.

"Amelia?" I said, nervously.

She just raised her eyebrows at me as she stood, a motion she was already starting when I spoke, and moved toward me with her eyes on the knots.

"You just pulled your hair."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "I'm doing a lot of that now. Again."

"... Are you still taking your meds?"

"Apparently I don't need them." Some of the ropes around my legs started to come loose as she knelt down behind me. "Anxiety and depression are justchoices. Did you know that?I was simply choosing to be so pathetic." Amelia laughed bitterly. "Oh and the voices? Not real. I invented them."

I looked at her shocked. "That sounds like Dad talking."

"Funny you should mention that," she said, not looking up. Little by little, my boots came free, and I felt the knots around my thighs jerk and tighten as she worked.

"You have to get out of that house. How could you let him take you off your meds?"

"I didn't let him do anything," she said, standing up quickly and staring me down. "He threw them all out! Dumped them down the toilet where I couldn't just pull them right back out,and don't think I didn't consider that anyway!"

"This isn't good," I said quickly. "You need to be on your medication. It helps you. You know that."

"I'm gonna ignore the part of that where you called me broken," she said, one eye twitching as she leaned forward, "and jump right to the obvious part I shouldn't need to point out toyou, after all ofthis, and that's that yes. I do need them. In fact, you might even say I was desperate to get them. How desperate, you might ask?"

The last word was delivered so close to me that the tip of her nose was brushing against mine.

"Go ahead. Ask me how desperate I am. Ask me how far I might go to get somefinancial independence."

"I—"

"Ask me," she snarled, as she punched the tree right next to my head. The shock of the impact passed through me like a ghost, leaving me cold and numb.

"You have to get out of his house," I repeated, softly. "Come and stay with me. On campus. I'll sleep on my own couch! I don't care!"

"God Damnit, Shelby!" she said, jamming her index finger into her temple. "You can't fixthis!"

"I want to help," I sobbed. I knew letting her crash with me was a short term solution at best, and possibly a terrible long term one. "Please just let me help!" If she ran away from Dad and didn't have a plan to stay away, she would find she had no place to return to. My mind raced. "Wait!"

She had just started to bend over, to return to the rope around my thigh, and gave me a dangerous glare out of the corner of her eye.

"Did you get everything you needed?"

"What are you talking about?"

"All the... the pictures! The pictures! Did you get enough? Do you need more, because I can... I can do more!" My pulse raced. I was on to something. "What about video? If-if-if you had video? Of this? Would...would that s-s-ssell? Do you have a camera for that?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she stared at me, but otherwise her face remained blank. "More?"

"Yes!" I cried. "More! You have my permission! In fact, all of this! All of this has my permission. Retroactively. I'll-I'll-I'll sign... whatever, or I don't know how this works, but whatever. It's okay."

"Retroactively?"

I started to nod, and started to say yes. I started to feel like, for the first time in years, I'd really done right by her. I started to feel good. And then I really saw her. Saw the way she was smiling; it didn't reach her eyes. Heard the way she was laughing; hollow. Knew that I'd made a mistake; a big one.

"Retroactively." Her manic grin grew wider by the second. "Retroactively. You know what, Shelby? Thank you. Thank you for making every risk I took today worth nothing. Thank you."

"No!"

"Thank you for taking away my agency, once again."

"No!"

"Shelby, for once in my fucking life, will you stop interfering?! You couldn't just let me have this one thing? Thisone fucking thing? You had to be in control?" She grabbed the back of her neck again, teeth gritted tightly, while her eyes raced around and around. "No, you know what?" she said, and then abruptly turned back to her bag.

"Amelia, please, I—"

I almost gagged as my panties were shoved back in my mouth. I was about to spit them out, ready to argue with Amelia when she put a strip of duct tape over my lips to hold them in place. This time there would be no escape.

"You wanted more? Well, we're going to have to see how much more you can tolerate before you remove your permission."

I groaned loudly, feeling that sharp spike of fear rising up inside me. I thought this couldn't get any worse, but then she walked away toward the house. She was going to leave me there just like I left her. It was awful hearing her footsteps fade away, and my heart felt like it was going to pound right out of my chest at the sound of the back door closing. All I could think of was one of the neighbors finding me like this. What would they think? What would they do before they untied me? I'd not even be able to put up the slightest defense.

And then I heard the door open again a few minutes later, and I heard footsteps. And when Amelia reappeared holding another, third bag, I started to panic.

"I did this," she mumbled under her breath. "I did this." She set the bag down, and stood back up immediately, whirling on me like I'd just done something. "This is mine,nothers. I own this. It'smine."

I saw her taking the step forward, with her arm cocked out beside her and her fingers clenched in a fist. I saw the twisting, coiling motion as she rotated, bringing her arm forward and across. I saw the venom in her eyes. Then my left breast exploded in a cascade of brutal pain. Logically, all of the signs should have added up, and that conclusion should have prepared me, or gotten me to brace myself for the awful, tear-inducing, stomach-turning pain of her punching my breast as hard as she could.

I was no better prepared for when she punched the right one. I screamed and twisted, wrenching the rope deep into my cunt. Blessedly, she is only right handed, so her left-handed punch landed more awkwardly and with less force. My stomach tried to empty itself through my mouth, but I swallowed down the bile. The little bit that got up into my nostrils burned fiercely, but that was blue on black compared to the pain in my chest.

"Wow," Amelia said, putting her hands on her knees and leaning forward to inspect the massive red splotch on the side of my left breast. "That is incredible."

I flinched when she reached up to trace an index finger over the bruised area, and she slapped it twice,hard, instead. I was able to bite back the scream, to clench tightly around the panties in my mouth and swallow it so that the noise didn't leave my vocal chords, but instead it burned inside my head.

"Now, now," she said, with her head tilted awkwardly. She brushed my hair out of my face, "It mustn't appear too unwilling. We have to maintain the proper appearance."

The tears had been flowing for so long that my eyes stung fiercely. Being dehumanized, and reduced to an 'it', was beyond me to cope with. I heard it, and it registered as wrong, but the sheer sensations were all that I could handle. She slapped that spot, the swollen, throbbing red spot where she'd punched me, and this time I couldn't hold it in. I screamed so loud I thought my vocal chords were going to break and the panties still muffled it to nothing.

"That's good," she whispered, as she leaned in closer to me. "That's very good."

I had to let my head hang forward, despite the awful, wonderful pressure it put between my cunt lips. I couldn't stand to show her the shame, and so I inflicted worse on myself to hide it. My breasts were both throbbing and burning, as blood flooded into them trying to heal the damage that Amelia had done. I could feel them swelling, and in the back of my head I prayed that she didn't notice them getting even bigger.

"Would you like to hear a story?" she said, whispering softly into my ear. I'd been so caught up in myself that I hadn't noticed her move. Her fingers found my nipples. I flicked my eyes to meet hers in shock; this was too intimate. This was crossing a line. She was teasing me gently, as I imagined a lover might, and that was almost harder to take. I tried to pull away but that made the rope press hard against my clitoris. I closed my eyes for a moment, unable to stop the wave of pleasure passing through me. My eyes quickly flew open and met hers; I didn't want her thinking I was enjoying her touch.

She was lost in her own world, her eyes distant. Not really seeing me at all. Even I wasn't sure I was a person in that moment.

"Once upon a time there were two princesses, and everyone agreed that they were very beautiful." Without pausing, Amelia bent back down to the bag and came back up with the purple bottle of water she had used earlier. "They were the best of friends, and they spent a lot of time together, but they weren't exactly the same." She slowly unscrewed the cap on the bottle, held it in one hand and emptied a large handful of fluid into the other.

"The older princess liked to dance and play while the younger preferred to paint and sing." She put the bottle down and rubbed the thick solution between her hands, and then brought her hands up to either side of my tits. It felt so cold against my burning skin, and her eyes danced when I flinched. "And though they remained friends the people began to treat them differently, for others could join the older Princess in the dance but no one knew the words to the younger princess's song."

I couldn't help but jerk away, pressing that damn rope against my cunt. Amelia smiled, and began working the fluid into my skin.

"Then, a terrible thing happened. A dragon took the younger princess, and locked her up tight in a haunted tower where awful voices whispered horrible things to her." As soon as her hands dried, she went back for more. Again and again, until eventually she was just pouring the solution directly onto my skin. "The young princess was terribly scared, but the longer she stayed locked up as she was, the more she came to accept it. She was there for so long that she was sure she would never escape. She tried to make herself at home."

I tried not to look. I tried to ignore what she was doing, and I really didn't want to acknowledge how good it felt, but I slipped. I looked, and my tits were shining from a thick coating of baby oil. The light was bouncing off in every direction, and underneath the skin looked so red. I couldn't help but love how Amelia had made them look, even the swelling had made them appear even fuller. I closed my eyes for a moment and then made eye contact, but she was lost in her story.

"In fact, it was the older princess who came to rescue her." Amelia was there, my sister, just for a moment. She looked me in the eye. There was a slight smile and then she was gone again. "And though she was grateful, part of the younger princess never really escaped."

"The older princess became famous for her dancing, and many princes came from far and wide to witness her beauty."I saw her eyes flick down to my stomach and I realised the baby oil had run down the front of the costume. It had reached my thighs and was slowly trickling further."The older she became the more beautiful she became and many a prince sought her hand."

I followed her attention as she squatted in front of me. I had to see, even though it pulled the rope and costume deep into my cunt. The material felt so rough. I had to fight not to close my eyes and succumb to how good it felt.

"None saw the older princess as her sister did." Amelia's hands started on my knees, then slid slowly up my legs, scooping up all the liquid as they climbed. "They only saw her beautiful dresses, cut just so to accentuate, and the way her body moved when she danced. The older princess noticed no one in return, for she was too content with her dancing." Her touch was tender, and yet erotic at the same time. My legs were shaking slightly, and I realized that I was on the edge of a very dangerous precipice.