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Author’s note: All characters in this story are above 18 years old
“Oh fuck Em,” I moaned as I felt an impending orgasm erupting. “Fuck.”
My sister, Emma, didn’t respond. She was too focused; dutifully working my cock, expertly bobbing her mouth up and down my shaft, her left hand tenderly cupping and occasionally rolling my testicles while the other was firmly wrapped around the base of my erection. I initially planned on holding out for as long as possible, but this was impossible; I couldn’t take it anymore. With a grunt, I exploded into her and I could feel her grip tightening, encasing my balls in a warm, wet shell that I grew to love, as if trying to milk more cum out of me.
Over the months, my sister had perfected the art of cock sucking — or at least I think she did; I had never gotten a blowjob from anyone else. Emma had gotten WAY better compared to the first time. She was really committed, purchasing several books on how to give a better blowjob (I always wondered how the cashier had reacted, she didn’t remember) and I even caught her a couple of times, to my amusement, in her room, deep throating a banana whilst watching YouTube videos about blowjobs.
Even before her brainwashing, Emma had always been a hardworking individual. A perfectionist. When she sets her mind to something, she makes sure she does everything she could to master it. That’s why she had always been a straight A student and had even competed in the national volleyball team. Of course, I made her drop both of them along with all her hobbies, interest and social life. I rather she be here with me, serving my will then continue studying in university or waste her time in team practices or with friends. The only activity I still allowed my slave to continue was going to the gym — to keep her body fit and her curves intact. I might just even build a personal gym in the garage so she would be at my beck and call almost 24/7. My desk would quickly get filled up with half-finished bags of dorito chips and empty sodas cans whenever she went to have her workout sessions or go for the weekly grocery haul.
Emma kept my cock in her mouth, swallowing down my cum until she was certain my orgasm had completely passed. Then, she slowly withdrew from my length, her tongue running alongside my undershaft, teasing him. I leaned backwards a little, using both my palms as support, recovering from the orgasm my sister just gave me. My slave then started licking the sensitive tip of my penis, like one would do to a popsicle, making sure nothing was wasted — just like I trained her to. Satisfied, she turned her attention and looked at me questionably, her emerald gaze burning into mine.
“Mhmm” was all I could manage out, trying to tell her that I was satisfied.
My sister gave me a sly smile, and gave a sweet peck on my tip before making her way towards the bathroom to rinse off her mouth with warm water, then finishing it with gaggling a couple of mouth washes, making sure there was no residue of my cum left — taste or scent. She had dutifully followed that order I gave it to her after making the fatal mistake of making out with her after a wonderful blowjob session. Never again.
After a couple of minutes, my slave came back and as if it were the most gesture to make, settled down on her knees in front of me. My sister looked up at me adoringly, her green eyes glowing with that of submission and worship.
“Did you enjoy that, Master?
I smiled and stroked her head, feeling the smooth texture of her long auburn hair that was bundled up into a cute ponytail. It was part of her uniform and she wore it exactly the same way every day. “Yes, I did.”
“I am glad.” She purred back sexily, then lowered her head and said nothing else. “Stand by mode” as I liked to call it. She would remain in that position until she received an order. I always wondered how she does it, surely no one could kneel for hours and hours on end without getting bored out of their fucking minds. But when your sole purpose in life was to be the best slave you can be while not having any other interest except serving your Master, I could see why.
I stroked her for a few more moments, enjoying the smooth texture of her hair and the barely audible moans that were escaping from her lips before reluctantly giving an order to go resume her chores. The house wasn’t going to clean itself. My sister gracefully stood up, and took the tips of her maid uniform, slightly pulling them apart, while simultaneously bending her knees with one foot in front of the other. She gave me a deep curtsy, her head bowed, perfected from the thousands of times she had practised the gesture in front of a mirror. “Yes, Master,” came the response I had expected from her.
I watched her walk away, her hips seductively swaying as she does so until she slipped out of my bedroom. Emma had made sure that I always received a premium view of her ass — she knew all too well that it was my favorite asset of hers. I used to spend entire afternoons, just squeezing, fondling, pinching maltepe escort and slapping those plump cheeks. Despite my fondness for them, I never had particularly liked anal — at least from the numerous attempts I had tried with Emma. I laid back into the warmth of my bed and sighed happily. I needn’t do anything for the rest of the day but lay here. No more chores, no more stress and no more bitchy sister. Life was good.
My thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock at my door. I sat up and saw my sister tentatively leaning in to my room.
“Sorry for bothering you Master, but there’s someone at the door.”
Who could it be? I didn’t notice the doorbell ringing. Groaning, I left the warmth of my bed and headed towards the main door, my slave following closely behind me, high heels clicking on the ceramic. I took a glance through the peep hole and was greeted by the sight of a man in his young 20s wearing a uniform I recognised.
I waited patiently for Emma to put on the robe that was prepared on the rack next to the front door. She slid in to the garment, concealing her uniform underneath. I didn’t want anyone to spot her in it — it would raise too many questions.
I opened the door just as she was tying up a knot.
“Hi,” the stranger said awkwardly. “Delivery for Mr James Copper?”
“Yes, I am James.” I replied
He handed me a clipboard he had been holding. “Could you sign here please?”
I took it with a nod just as Emma came into view and I saw the deliveryman started. I hid a smile behind the clipboard; my sister always attracted reaction like those. He started eyeing her from top to bottom, curiously glancing at her black leather collar then frowning slightly at her high heels. My sister met his gaze and offered him a seductive smile.
“There.” I handed back the clipboard back.
The young man fumbled for it, embarrassed. I chuckled silently and gave my sister a look when I saw that his cheeks had gone a shade of red. Poor guy. I don’t blame him.
“Your girlfriend?” he asked, trying to mask the jealousy of his tone, slightly gesturing at my other hand that was absentmindedly fondling her ass.
Oops. I let my hand drop. That was a bad habit of mine, one that I need to stop doing — at least in public.
“Yeah,” I simply said, taking the package. “Thanks.”
That was our current cover story; Emma was my girlfriend and we lived together. Though, I admit, it was terrible. My sister was a solid 9 and I was a 4 or a 5 at best. She and Laura had shared all the best genes from mom and dad among themselves and I was left with the scraps. Having a girlfriend that was way above your league and also being an inch taller wasn’t particular believable but people did bought it. They probably thought that I hired an escort to lie about being my girlfriend or that I was the luckiest man on earth. They were right. Every time Emma brought me to an orgasm, I certainly did felt like it. I hadn’t taken my sister for granted — yet.
I probably could slightly bump up my scores if I had bordered to groom myself properly, wore better clothes and work on not carrying almost 200 pounds, though it doesn’t matter; being unattractive wasn’t a requisite to have sex with Emma. Still, the cover story was leagues better than “She’s my sister”.
“What’s that?” Emma asked with all of a child’s directness, sliding out of her robe after the deliveryman had left.
“It’s a new collar I ordered for you,” I replied, delighted at the squeal that had produced in the girl. “Something for you to wear in public. That black collar would raise way too much attention.”
I opened the package and removed the bubble wrap, taking out the item. It was a simple black laced necklace with a letter “S” hanging at the middle of it.
“Thank you Master,” my sister said as I placed the necklace into her opened palms. She studied it for a while, feeling the cold steel biting at her fingertips as she rotated the “S”.
“I am assuming the “S” stands for slave?”
“Thank you so much!” She threw her arms around and gave me a warm hug, her breast crushing against my chest and my boner pressed tightly into her. She held on for a while and I felt her trembling slightly. I frowned. Was she crying again?
She finally let go and I could that she was; Emma was wiping away tears, sobbing pitifully.
“Go and finish up your chores,” I told her, giving her a peck on the lips, feeling their plumpness and tasting the sweetness of her new gloss. Mmm. Strawberry. Way better than all of the ones she used last week. I made a mental note to inform her of my preference later. “We will talk again when you are done.”
She managed a small smile, delighted at the affection I just gave her and started to walk away. I gave her ass a slap and she giggled childishly. She always liked when I did that.
I dumped myself on the couch, dreamily watching my slave make her way to the kitchen, my mind drifting back 3 months ago when Emma was a completely different person -before mecidiyeköy escort she became mine.
Ever since our parents died, Emma became a stuck up bitch — to everyone but her closest friends, and to Laura, our youngest sibling. They had always been close. I had managed to convince my sister to let me hypnotize her in exchange for 100$. She accepted the offer, with a snort and a laugh, thinking she would just be 100$ richer — only if she had known better. The whole process was slow but eventually, I moulded my sister into what she is today; an extension of myself; a completely devoted and subservient companion and a great fuck toy.
To achieve that, I had first blurred out her moral boundaries and block out all negative emotions she had towards me. She would never resent me anymore and would now always see me in a completely positive light. The effect was instantaneous. After waking her up from the trance, for the first time in years, Emma started treating me nicely. It was great, finally having my sister back again, but that didn’t make her my slave.
To accomplish that, I took the ability to feel and experience any sort of pleasure away from her. It was scary. I had always hypnotized her in sessions, and after that session, she became a zombie; completely voided out of happiness and joy, a shell of her former self. I would often time catch her having breakdowns, crying in the corner of her room.
Despite my dislike of her, I hated having to see her like that. It almost broke me and I didn’t get much sleep during those few days. But I knew it was necessary; a small sacrifice for the greater good.
I was relieved when it was time for her next session. Emma had not experienced any sort of joy for days and would be in an extremely vulnerable state of mind. That session had marked the beginning of her life of servitude. I implemented a deep trigger within her mind, so that whenever she obeyed my commands or gave me an orgasm, endorphins that I had previously suppressed, would be momentarily released in her brain, giving her jolts of pleasure — kind of like an electric shock.
She became EXTREMELY addicted to it. Emma would often time beg me to give her more commands or to have sex with her so that she could experience the much needed jolt. I was of course, happy to oblige. She would then enthusiastically carry out my orders and I finally got the chance to fuck my sister — something that I had always fantasized about. It was scary, losing my virginity but Emma had been gentle, guiding me through. She had lines of ex boyfriends and had fucked many more, so she knew what she was doing.
After weeks of receiving pleasure jolts from me, Emma became very emotionally attached and eventually falling in love with me, something I had completely not expected. My initial goal was to make her my sex slave, which I had finally accomplished then, not to make her go head over heels for me — I didn’t care about that. I should have had anticipated it though; it was obvious. After all, she wasn’t able to think badly of me anymore and I was the only person in the entire world that had the ability to make her feel happy; loved. It was a welcome side effect I had realised. Initially, she would just have sex with me just for the jolt, to feel good, but slowly, as her feelings for me grew, our sex became way more intense and she would start initiating foreplay without me actually ordering her to – something she had never done before.
There were a couple of drawbacks, though. Whenever I wanted her to have sex with another woman (I get turned on by lesbian sex), she clearly wouldn’t enjoy it. Emma would try her best to pretend to, but it was painfully obvious. I didn’t want to change her programming. If I did and make her able to feel pleasure from women, she might potentially leave me for one. It was too risky. I couldn’t just command her to just “feel it” too, I only could change how her mind – and thus how her endorphins — work only through hypnosis and it would have been a chore to hypnotize her whenever she was ordered to have sex with a woman then later reverse it.
The most annoying drawback, though, was her extreme attachment towards me. Well, it was more of a double edge sword. It feels great to have a woman worship you and make you feel loved, but whenever she thinks that I was displeased with her for whatever reason or that I didn’t find her attractive anymore by denying sex, she would become extremely depressed. Emma wouldn’t bring the issue up to me; she would maintain her cheerful composure around me but would go on breaking down and crying whenever she thinks she was alone. I had finally found out about it through questioning her during hypnosis and immediately tried to fix it.
I had told her that if I ever was displeased with her, I would tell her directly and gave her a punishment. I didn’t know what the punishment was yet since she never done anything wrong. And if I ever found myself not attracted to her anymore, I would immediately dismiss her from my service. Apparently, that wasn’t nişantaşı escort the best thing to say since it would mean I was taking away her only meaning in life and her living God away from her and so she became obsessed with plastic surgery and make up. Finally, I told her that she was beautiful and that I would always love her, no matter what. My sister bought it, of course. How could her beloved Master ever lie to her? Hell, if I told her that the sky was green, she probably wouldn’t even have second guessed me.
After months of being of being my personal maid and sex toy, and a little bit of nudges through subsequence hypnotic sessions, my sister eventually came to the conclusion that her sole purpose in life was to serve and please me. Shad already saw me as her dominant, and would eventually regress into an extremely submissive state towards me, which was very odd, since Emma was still quite the feminist. I could change that view with just a simple command, but I found it amusing and actually quite humorous — so I let it be.
I had kept her personality intact — well, mostly. I didn’t want to fuck a robot. My sister still had most of her traits and could still be somewhat displeased with my decisions and actions. I also had kept some of her will left in her so she could form her own opinions and decisions. But just as a safety precaution, in the event my slave ever developed thoughts of escaping my control, I made her unable to disobey any of my commands and she could never lie to me. It wasn’t much of a concern though; her programming made her very, very happy with her new life of submission. But it’s always good to have a backup plan.
“Master?” Her silky smooth voice brought me back.
I looked up and saw my slave standing in front of me, her back straight, breast puffed out and her hands clasped in front of her apron, trying to look proud and presentable.
“Master,” my sister repeated. “Your dinner is ready.”
Dinner was nothing fancy, just meatball pasta served with mushroom peas. She was a pretty decent cook but not the greatest, despite her best attempts to improve at it. Even Emma was not perfect.
My slave was standing at attention at the side of the table, holding a bottle of red wine. Emma would refill my glass whenever it was required and would see for my needs if need be, but otherwise, she served as a glorified statue while I ate.
I picked at the fettuccine, my mind wandering different places. That was the consequences when you had a slave to do everything for you, from bathing to tying your shoes. Hell, I had even forgotten what it’s like to masturbate. I literally didn’t have to do anything anymore and so I was always in a constant state of haze.
I finally sighed and ate my food. Emma’s meal was getting cold. She always made dinner for 2 but would have to wait until I had finished before she gets to eat. I actually started growing very fond of her over the months, making selfless decisions for her benefit.
“Dessert, Master?” my slave purred after I cleared up my plate, licking her rose colored lips and glancing slyly at my crotch.
I shook my head. I wanted to but it was best not. My poor dick had been abused so many times over the last couple of weeks that it had started throbbing sorely. From time to time, I would try and have a couple of days off orgasm free. It was an annoying problem to have. Why can’t I fuck her 10 times a day, every day? But I was sure there were worst problems out there.
My sister nodded understandably, cleared my plate and went back to the kitchen, her hips swaying invitingly in my direction.
We were watching a movie that night and Emma was cuddled up in front of me, her ass pressed firmly on my tender groin. I was fiddling with her leather collar and half listening to the action adventure fantasy that was playing in front of us. My sister always wore her collar, except when she had to leave the house. It was to her, a symbol of her pride and honor, and so she had tried to protest with me, saying it should be on her 24/7, to show her undying devotion to me and remind herself of what she was and always will be- a slave; a piece of my property. But I objected. It would definitely raise way too many glances and double takes in her direction (and she already attracted enough of those, way more than I find comfortable) and could raise unwanted questions. Well, I solved that problem by ordering a more suitable collar for her to wear when she was out of the house.
“I should be marked,” my sister said pressing herself closer to me and I felt myself getting a hard on. This was something she often brought up with me.
Emma had watched some documentaries a couple weeks ago about cults and was intrigued when she saw that the cult members were all marked — signifying that they were owned by their respective cult leaders.
I buried myself in her smooth auburn hair. My slave was naked and not in uniform so she hadn’t bothered to do up her hair, leaving it down instead. “I will think about it,” I told her, enjoying the sweet lime scent that stayed with her from her pricey shampoo. “Maybe I will get a tattoo of my signature on you and place it right here.” I gestured to my desired point by bringing a hand down hard, slapping her right ass cheek. It jiggled wildly from my touch and left a large red resemblance of my palm.
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