My Sister...All Mine

By modern standards I suppose we were not all that different from the average family. I knew no one who came from a complete, happy, family so our broken home didn't seem all that unusual to me. Mother was the type of woman who had relied on her beauty her entire life to see her through and had never bothered to further her education or seek a career of her own. As a young girl she had been more interested in the praise horny teenaged boys heaped upon her than being responsible. She had teased and flirted and had allowed advances by these boys that most girls her age were not allowing just yet. It was no surprise to anyone when she turned up pregnant at fifteen by an older man who disappeared the moment she announced she was carrying his child. Me.

Forced by strict parents to carry a child she didn't want I was born and for the first five years of my life we lived with my grandparents. They raised me and gave me all the love they could in what should have been their golden years of retirement while my mother struggled to finish high school and make a life for herself, for us. A beautiful woman she didn't care about getting an education, determined that her looks would always provide for her and if they didn't, her parents would. Unfortunately for her my grandparents died a few months before I turned six only a month apart. We had no other family and she was forced to handle the funeral arrangements on her own, funeral arrangements we could barely afford.

Unable to cover the cost on what was left in my grandparents savings, savings that had been eaten up by raising me and my mother, she was forced to sell the house and we moved into a small apartment. Mother found her niche in the world when she went to work for a businessman as his secretary, personifying the image that all secretaries were buxom and easy. It was barely enough to pay the bills but somehow she always had money to spend on her toiletries and clothes and jewelry. Though I was only a child I understood she was her boss's mistress and that all these extra things were from him. Gifts to his kept woman.

I couldn't hate her though. In spite of her selfish nature she did love me, in her own way. Often she would take me in her arms and hold me tightly, her words almost sad as she'd whisper, "My sweet little Marcus. The only man in my life who loves me for nothing." Her moments of sad introspection were few and far between, however, and never enough to inspire her to find a better way.

Her affair with her boss went on for several years and as I grew older I realized he was married though she had often hinted to the possibility that he might propose to her some day. It was a nice fantasy but even I could see that he was stringing her along. I tried to tell her that he wasn't serious but she wouldn't hear anything I had to say, stating I was just a child and didn't know anything about men and women. No matter what she maintained the delusion that he was going to leave his wife for her and she refused to accept any reality but the one she had so carefully crafted in her imagination.

I was ten years old when he got her pregnant. I can remember it as clearly as if it had happened the day before, hearing the muffled sobs coming from the bathroom as I came in from school one afternoon. I knocked on the door but she called out that she was fine and would be out in a minute. That minute turned into several minutes and it was nearly an hour later when she finally emerged only to head straight to her bedroom where she again closed herself in. Curious and a little frightened I listened in at the door as she called her boss and told him her news, that she was expecting his child.

It was obvious from the ensuing one sided conversation that she expected him to finally leave her wife now that she was pregnant. It was also obvious that he was not giving her what she wanted and by the end of the conversation she was in tears all over again, berating him for abandoning her in her condition before eventually hanging up on him entirely. I could hear her sobbing again but I couldn't move, I was frozen thinking about a new sibling, worried over matters that no ten year old should even know about.

I never understood why my mother didn't end her pregnancy, why she kept Cynthia. I always suspected she was holding out hope that her boss would see the light some day and leave his wife for her. He never did of course, but he did provide for his daughter, giving my mother money for her even after her employment at his office was terminated. Though she didn't tell me what happened I had become quite adept at listening in to her conversations and learned that she had been making inappropriate comments in the work place, no doubt hinting to the fact that she had had the boss's baby to people she shouldn't have been talking too in the first place.

She had never been overly maternal with me and she was even less so with Cynthia so much of the responsibilities for caring for her fell to me. Perhaps if Cynthia had been a boy mother wouldn't have minded so much but the older Cynthia got the more apparent it became that she was going to be stunning and it was almost as if Mother was jealous of her. As a result she was overly hard on Cynthia, cutting her down and doing her very best to make Cynthia feel inferior while she spent the money from Cynthia's father on herself rather than her daughter.

Cynthia had more spirit than our mother gave her credit for and she took her comments for what they were, jealousy, but she grew up shy and reserved none the less, especially when our mother was around. I seemed to be the only one she was comfortable around and as a result we were very close in spite of the age difference. I took care of Cynthia and grew to be very protective of my sweet natured little sister who always looked at me as if I were her hero. I became driven by the desire to give her a better life and I was a diligent student and spent most of my time studying. When I wasn't studying I was with Cynthia. The little girl had quickly wormed her way into my heart and became my reason for everything I did.

I graduated from high school with honors and went on to college almost immediately. We lived in Boston and with my grades I was had earned myself a scholarship to BU. I lived at home while I attended college to save money but also to make sure Cynthia was alright. I couldn't trust my mother to care for the little girl as much as that knowledge saddened me. I just couldn't bring myself to leave her behind.

I worked my balls off and graduated in three years instead of four, with honors, and with my business degree I plunged into the workforce. Fiercely competitive and determined I quickly climbed the corporate ladder and soon was the main breadwinner for our little family though Mother had moved on to a string of rich men who showered her gifts and ensured her bills were paid. Though we never spoke on it I knew she was little more than a prostitute. Just because the men kept her around for a period of time didn't mean they weren't paying for her. I learned to ignore it and in time almost forgot our mother lived there with us.

I was 26 when I bought my house in Cambridge. Though part of me wished I could take only Cynthia with me I moved both of them into my home. Mother enjoyed the more upscale living she had been denied in my youth but little changed with her. She still craved the attention, still needed the masculine praise, only now she didn't have to worry about paying the rent based on how good a girl she was and if anything she became even more wild.

Cynthia was 16 when we moved into the new house and had grown into a beautiful young woman. Pale blond hair that curled softly below her shoulders, vibrant blue eyes, peaches and cream skin that I knew was like silk to the touch, rose bud lips, she stood at 5'4 and had a curvy figure any woman would envy. Gentle by nature she was still shy around strangers but had enough spirit not to let our mother's catty remarks get to her. Though Cynthia rarely saw her own beauty she understood our mother felt threatened by her and forgave her her cruelty when few others would. She learned to avoid our mother and to remain quiet when in her presence so as not to draw any unnecessary attention to herself when Mother was around. Unfortunately that shyness extended outside the house as well and she had few friends and even fewer boyfriends. She went on the occasional date, mostly to special occasions like school dances, but for the most part her free time was spent with me, my own social life placed on the back burner for Cynthia's sake.

She had a brilliant mind and our evenings were often spent focused on her schoolwork. I was insistent that she get good marks and have the same education and opportunities that I had had and I made something of a stern task master. I was protective as well, maybe overly so, but Cynthia never questioned my authority, never challenged me, as if my governance of her was to be expected. I was big brother and father figure all rolled into one. I loved her though, dearly, and she knew that. I made sure she never doubted it. We were all we had in the world, really, and I would do anything to keep her safe and provide for her.

She had just turned 18 and was a couple months away from graduation when she began dating a boy from her school, Jeremy. He was a nice enough boy and seemed to accept Cynthia's more reserved nature. It was all very exciting for her, her first boyfriend, and though she never said it I knew she was self-conscious being so inexperienced at her age. From watching our Mother she had never really developed an interest in boys as a younger girl and I knew deep down she didn't want to turn out like her. I appreciated this about her, knew she was level headed and responsible, and trusted her instincts. Like any parent, or surrogate parent, I had to accept that she was growing up and finding her own life.

I didn't like it though. In fact, I hated it.

I suddenly had more free time than I had ever had and was left with finding ways to fill that time. I had always made a point of keeping in shape, weight training actually provided a wonderful way for me to de-stress so I didn't carry any negativity from my hectic day home with me, but now I was spending four or more nights a week at the gym rather than the two or three I had spent before. My already solid frame began to take on more definition and though I had never lacked in confidence I was pleased with the results. I knew I was a good looking man. I wasn't arrogant but I wasn't one of those people who feel the need to put themselves down in order to gain a complement. While Cynthia took after our mother I had been told I looked like my father. He may have been an asshole but he had given me decent genes. At 6'2 with ink black hair, hazel eyes, and skin that always looked as if it were lightly tanned I knew I cut a striking figure.

With all this free time I even started dating. Though I had never lacked for casual feminine companionship I made it clear to all the women who came into my life that my family was my priority and I could not, and would not, put them on the back burner for anyone. Some accepted this, some didn't, but I never really cared either way. Logically I knew Cynthia was growing up and wouldn't need me as she once had, but I still approached my dating life the same way, no woman ever managing to interest me enough to abandon that mind set. Though I enjoyed their company I knew they were just a substitute for Cynthia. I missed her and the evenings we would spend together but I would never say anything to her about it. No matter how much I longed too. She was my sister. I couldn't keep her with me forever. Could I?

It was early spring and Cynthia's graduation was a few weeks away when I arrived home late one evening from the gym. Work had run later than usual which resulted in my spending more time in the gym than I normally did in an attempt to rid myself of the annoyance of my day. The house was silent when I entered and I knew that meant Mother was off on another of her "dates". I refused to indulge her needless spending so she had continued to live much the same lifestyle as she had before. We had developed something of a "stay out of my way and I will stay out of yours" relationship. It was Friday so I knew it was a possibility that Cynthia was out with Jeremy and when I didn't hear the television or radio I assumed that was the case and headed upstairs to shower and change. As I reached the top of the stairs I began to turn left towards the master suite when I realized the light was on in Cynthia's bedroom and I could hear muffled voices coming from within.

Common sense told me Cynthia was in there with Jeremy and that I should respect her space and go to my own room but instinct drove me forward until I was standing just outside her door. It hadn't latched properly and was open a crack of perhaps two or three inches. I wouldn't have been able to see much at all if not for the oval vanity mirror that reflected the image of Cynthia sitting on the edge of her bed with Jeremy perfectly. They were kissing and I could clearly see Jeremy's hand slip beneath the hem of the white sun-dress she wore. Anger swelled instantly and I had to struggle with the urge to throw the door open and pummel the little prick into the ground but part of me also wanted to see how Cynthia would handle his advances. Were they already having sex? Just the thought of my sweet little Cyn letting another man put his hands on her was enough to make me crazy but I didn't have enough time to analyze the improper nature of my reaction as Cynthia chose that moment to push Jeremy's hand away, her soft voice admonishing him to stop.

Smiling in grim satisfaction I could hear his frustrated voice asking what he had done wrong, why she wouldn't let him touch her when they had been dating as long as they had. To his credit he wasn't pushy about it but the fact that he was trying so hard to get her to give in only fueled my anger and I realized with a moment of sudden clarity that I was jealous. That I didn't want another man in Cynthia's life and it wasn't just because we were so close and I would miss her. It was because in my heart of hearts I had always considered her mine and right or wrong I still did. Cynthia had turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him, her soft blonde curls partially hiding her reflected face from view but I could still see how she struggled with her next words.

"I'm sorry Jeremy. You've been so patient with me. I know it's not fair but I'm still not quite ready. Unless..." I saw her mentally gather up her courage, her eyes shutting tightly against whatever reaction he would have to what she was about to say. "Unless you wanted to force me."

I was shocked. So shocked in fact that I almost forgot that I was supposed to be spying and nearly exclaimed my surprise vocally. Cynthia, my sweet angelic shy little sister, wanted to be forced? I had known women who enjoyed the whole non consent fantasy. It wasn't rape, it was a fantasy, and I understood the difference clearly. I had no problem with the fantasy and had indulged several of my past lovers in a little forced play from time to time. It was sexy as hell but I would never have guessed that Cynthia would be one of those women and I couldn't help but wonder what had caused her to develop this desire. It was true she was shy and often reserved so perhaps she craved this as a means of being released from those bonds, or perhaps she was just submissive by nature. It would certainly make sense.

Jeremy managed to snap out of his stunned silence more quickly than I did and while I stood there analyzing Cynthia's bombshell his face had twisted into a mask of disgust. "Are you serious, Cindy? Do you think I'm some kind of sick pervert who can only get off on raping a chick?" His voice was becoming angry and I wondered if her request hadn't hit a little too close to Jeremy's own fantasies, the flicker of guilt I could see in his eyes a dead give away. I might have felt sorry for the conflicted boy if not for the look of utter humiliation on Cynthia's face as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of his condemnation.

My anger returned tenfold and without hesitation I stepped back a bit and rapped sharply on the door. I could hear their startled gasps and the door was quickly snatched open by Cynthia. Her horrified gaze met mine and she knew in an instant that I had heard everything that had just happened. Looking past her to the boy who still sat on her bed I let my anger and disdain show plainly in my face, my voice sounding cold and harsh even to my own ears. "I think it's time for Jeremy to go home, Cynthia. Escort him out, please."

Jeremy was off the bed like a shot and coming towards the door. At the last minute I stepped to the side so he could pass, the desire to punch the shit out of him so strong my hands actually clenched into fists at my side. Cynthia noticed this and assumed my anger was because of her and as she followed Jeremy out I could see her eyes were glassy with tears she refused to shed. "Come right back upstairs Cynthia. We need to talk," I said quietly as she passed me. She simply nodded, her head down with eyes fixed firmly to the floor. I hated seeing her so upset but my emotions were riding high and I wasn't sure what I was going to say to her when she came back upstairs. Anger, jealousy, possessiveness; all of these emotions vied for dominance within me and underlying it all was the revelation that my innocent little sister had fantasies of being forced. More important than any of that though was the realization that I wanted her for myself. The potential ramifications for acting on what I wanted could be devastating, but I knew what I wanted and in the midst of my conflicting emotions I couldn't think of any good reason not to take what I wanted. Especially when I knew I could give her what she wanted.

I had no idea what I was going or do when she returned. I didn't plan any of what happened next. She must have practically thrown him out the door because she was walking back into her room in minutes. She began to apologize almost instantly, her sweet face distraught as the tears threatened to fall in spite of her best efforts to contain them.

"I'm so sorry Marcus. This is so humiliating! You must be so disappointed in me."

I remained silent as she spoke, my eyes traveling possessively down her body until her voice came to a stop. When my eyes again met hers she didn't seem to notice the new way I looked at her, to caught up in her own emotional distress to see that something had changed between us. I considered my response carefully but nothing I could say to her sounded right, no words could accurately convey exactly what I was feeling at that moment. Acting purely on instinct I decided to let my actions speak for me. I don't remember moving but suddenly I was standing in front of her, her expressive face revealing her surprise as my hands rose and cupped her face. I gave her no opportunity to protest before I was pulling her towards her, my lips claiming hers with a need I had never felt for another woman.

She stiffened in surprise but I didn't stop. She wasn't actually protesting nor was she trying to get free. It was then I knew I was going to fulfill her fantasy, at least in part. My lips remained on hers, growing more aggressive as my tongue forced her lips to part for me, my hands sliding down her bare arms until I had encircled each of her wrists with my hands. I was careful not to hurt her but I tightened my grip on her enough that she couldn't pull away from me and using that grip I pushed her back until she collided with the wall. Her cry of surprise was muffled by my lips as I deepened the kiss, my tongue delving into her mouth, coaxing her own tongue to mimic the action. Still gripping her wrists I pulled her arms over her head until I could capture both wrists in my left before pinning her wrists to the wall. I made sure I didn't pull her arms so far above her that she would be in pain but my grip was firm and she knew there was no pulling free.