Sister's toy
It's hard to drastically change your life at 18, especially since by that age it's only just beginning to take shape. But my first impulses towards this started back in the sixth grade, when I began secretly taking things from my older sister, who is two years older than me.
First, it was her closed-back swimsuit—she swims competitively, so she's very good-looking and quite strong. The feeling of the synthetic fabric tightly hugging my butt, back, chest, and tummy is indescribable. I would stroke and knead myself, enjoying my body clad in a woman's swimsuit.
Then came the tights. By her eighth grade, she was already wearing thick black
nylon tights under short school skirts and dresses, and under jeans or leggings, she wore thin, sheer ones. I stole both kinds from her, admired myself in them in the mirror, stroked and spanked my butt and legs. And then I figured out to put the swimsuit on over them.I must say, my build is scrawny. I don't do any sports, and now I even play in a student rock band, which is why I stopped cutting my black hair, and now it looks girlish, like the rest of my body. Moreover, due to an early fondness for beer, I developed small breasts, which also didn't add masculinity to my appearance.
The incident I want to tell about happened in mid-July. Our parents had gone to the dacha for two nights, and my sister and I were left alone in the apartment. By six o'clock, she had dashed off on a date with her boyfriend, and as soon as the door slammed shut, I headed to her room.
Rustling through my sister's wardrobe, I pulled out a set of dark purple panties and a bra. They didn't have lace, but they looked very seductive and teasing, especially on my freshly shaved pubic area. Then, from a small drawer, I took out snow-white tights made of light nylon. Putting them on, I was thrilled—the fabric rustled, pleasantly hugging and tickling my skin.
The next element of the look was a new, recently bought sports swimsuit in a vulgar pink color that my sister had only worn a couple of times. It was a one-piece, without any gaps on the back, so it hugged tightly and firmly, which I especially liked. The sensation was enhanced by its color, and in it, I felt like a real slut.
The final touch was my sister's short, colorful summer dress, which barely reached the middle of my thighs. Looking in the mirror hanging opposite the wardrobe, I noted with satisfaction that I now resembled a slutty girl. My long, loose hair enhanced the effect, and even my face began to look feminine. The look was complete, after which I stopped referring to myself in the masculine gender, switching to the feminine.
I returned to the living room, sat on the sofa, assumed the most brazen and accessible pose I could think of, and reached for my phone. Being a girl, I really loved reading about cross-dressing while massaging my butt and clit. Engrossed in this activity, I didn't notice the time approaching nine...
A key rustled and turned in the lock. I was scared to death because I hadn't expected my sister to return so soon. My first thought was to run to my room, but I dismissed it—too little time, and besides, it would require passing through the hallway. So, I just covered myself with the blanket lying on the sofa and pretended to be watching TV. Meanwhile, my sister entered the hallway, talking to someone. Judging by the voice, it was her boyfriend. I hadn't seen him yet, so when a tall, fair-haired athlete followed my sister into the living room, everything feminine in me was filled with indescribable delight, and I almost squealed.
My sister went to her room, and her boyfriend sat on the other end of the sofa.
"Andrey," he introduced himself.
"Lyokha," I replied.
"So you're Kristina's brother?" he asked with slight surprise in his voice, apparently not imagining rockers looking like this.
"Uh-huh."
Then he asked something else and more, I answered mechanically, stealing glances at him. He was wearing beach shorts and a tight-fitting T-shirt through which all the contours of his muscles were visible.
My sister returned from the room, now in short denim shorts and a white tank top. She sat on Andrey's lap, and they started whispering about something. After about twenty minutes, Andrey went to the bathroom. When he disappeared into the hallway, my sister jumped up to me, grabbed the hair on the back of my head, and hissed:
"Why were you rummaging through my closet? What were you even doing in my room!?"
"Ow-ow-ow!" was all I could squeak.
"What were you looking for there, you pervert?"
At that moment, Kristina jerked my hair so sharply that I threw my head back, and the blanket fell from my shoulders. My sister froze, stared at the revealed scene for a while, and then silently yanked the blanket off me completely.
"Ah-ha, so that's it," she drawled. "So you're the one who stretched out all my tights. Well, never mind, we'll teach you a lesson now."
I really hoped that by saying "we," she didn't mean Andrey, but my hopes were dashed when my sister sang out:
"Andryu-u-u-sha-a!"
"What is it, little fox?" he asked, closing the bathroom door.
"Come here, I have a surprise for you."
Andrey entered the room and froze, staring at us. Kristina was still holding my hair, and I was clutching her hand, trying to loosen her grip, and was half-lying on the sofa with my legs spread.
"Lyokha, what the hell? Are you a fag or something?" he asked in bewilderment.
"No-o, Andrey. This isn't Lyokha anymore. Her name is Olesya now, meet her. And from this day on, Olesya will be my faithful and devoted slave."
Hearing that terrible word, I struggled even more, but my sister yanked my hair and ordered:
"Sit, slut! Andryusha, keep an eye on our slave while I step away."
Kristina went to her room, and her boyfriend leaned on me, grabbing both my wrists with one hand and starting to knead my butt and legs with the other. My sister soon returned, holding a phone in one hand and keeping the other behind her back. specially for .оrg After taking a photo of me in such an "awkward" position, she slowly approached me, swaying her hips, leaned over my ear, and whispered loudly:
"Well, girl? Who do you think will be more upset: Dad or Mom?"
As soon as she said that, tears started flowing, and I pleaded:
"Please, Kristinochka, don't show them, I'll do anything for you!" She covered my mouth with her palm and asked:
"Anything at all?"
I nodded affirmatively, and she said loudly:
"Excellent!" She stepped back and showed the other hand, which she had been holding behind her back. In it was a long black strap-on. I started crying harder, and Kristina meanwhile said to Andrey:
"Turn her over on her stomach and see what she's wearing."
Andrey obeyed and, pulling back the layers of clothing, listed them. My sister's face changed with each item; she seemed increasingly convinced of the need to punish me. Peeking under the panties, he remarked:
"Wow! A clean and smooth butt. Looks like we can proceed."
"Yes, go ahead, take her to the room and tie her to the bed with her butt up."
"Which room?"
"Hers. Lay her across the bed, and put a pillow or two under her hips. Secure her like that, and I'll be right there."
Kristina went off somewhere to her room, and Andrey, firmly grabbing me between the legs, said, "Forward, Olesya, move! Slut," and led me where my sister had indicated. In my room, still holding me, he rummaged through my drawers, pulled out a couple of belts and ties, threw me on the bed, and tightly tied my hands with the ties and my legs with the belts. A plush sofa cushion was shoved under my waist and hips.
About three minutes later, my sister entered. I couldn't see her because the bed was perpendicular to the door, and I was tied facing away from the entrance. I only heard Andrey's words:
"Wow! You never appeared like this in front of me!"
"That was supposed to be a surprise, darling!"
"And this thing?"
"No, I've wanted to try this on my brother for a long time. And now this bitch has set herself up so perfectly... Please, take the mirror from the hallway wall, stick it between the mattress and the side—let the slut see how low she's fallen."
Andrey went out into the hallway, and Kristina walked around the bed and appeared in front of my face. She was wearing lace stockings with a garter belt, silk gloves up to her elbows, and a latex bodysuit—all black. But the main element of her outfit was that very strap-on, already worn and pointing straight into my mouth. She came closer, so the black tip pressed against my lips, and said:
"Now I'm going to make sure you never want to wear my clothes again. But you no longer have a choice, Olesya."
Andrey returned with the mirror. He set it up as Kristina had asked, and I could see myself from the side. The sight was pitiful but arousing. I saw my sister take out a tube of lube, apply it to her fingers, and, pulling aside the swimsuit and lowering the panties with tights, abruptly, without ceremony, insert two fingers into my ass. I struggled and screamed:
"Enough, please! Don't! Stop!"
She kept her fingers inside me, moving them back and forth.
"What do you mean 'don't'? Want it without lube? No way, endure it so you can give us more pleasure later."
There was cruelty and hatred in her actions; she absolutely didn't consider my condition, and when I groaned in pain again, she ordered Andrey to gag my mouth with his cock. He didn't hesitate either and carried out the order. Then he took my head and started impaling it on his cock, guiding me and setting the pace. My face burned with shame and was redder than a boiled crayfish; I saw it in the mirror.
There, I also saw my sister, after pulling her fingers out of me, start lubing the strap-on. When she finished, the black shaft of that weapon aimed at my butt and pressed right against the hole. Tears rolled from my eyes again, and my sister, as if not noticing, looking at me through the mirror into my eyes, started fucking and screwing me. Pain moved back and forth through my butt, the hands of my tormentors crawled over me, stroking my body through the clothing.
Suddenly, Andrey's fingers tightened harder, he rolled his eyes, and a copious warm stream erupted into my mouth. My sister commented on it:
"Now you're Olesya forever. There's no going back!"
Then she pulled the strap-on out of me and asked Andrey:
"Care to do the same to her butt?"
He silently and eagerly nodded, and they switched places. Kristina didn't even bother to wipe the strawberry-scented lube off the black cock before shoving it into my mouth. She was much harsher than Andrey, driving the shaft all the way to the straps.
Her boyfriend was fucking me in the ass at the time. Feeling a hot, living cock after the cold, dead rubber was much more pleasant. Besides, my butt was already worked in, and I tried to wiggle it to make it less painful.
Both of them spanked me in the most intimate places, Kristina mocked me, called me a crybaby, a sucker, and a down-and-out. Then she took off the strap-on, spread her legs in front of me, and forcefully pressed me against her pussy, saying, "lick, bitch, lick." I started licking her, trying not to anger her, and she ran the tip of the strap-on over my face.
Then I felt familiar signs again—Andrey's fingers squeezed my hips, he arched his back, and released a hot stream into my butt. Kristina noticed he had finished and suggested:
"Well, darling, had fun? Let's go rest. Let the bitch sit here."
They adjusted their clothes and left, locking me in, leaving me tied to the bed, in women's clothing, with semen dripping down my butt.