Tabboo

TABBOO

Part Five

The Older sister finally has the tables turned

Sprawled across the bed face down, home late after a night of partying, having just fallen asleep in the wee hours of the morning, she’s arched out spread-eagled, lying across the stack of ruffled pillows.  She’s practically naked as her brother slips from the closet out of the darkness, snaps the draw-tight across her wrists, flips her briskly onto her backside, immediately jams a gag in her mouth, the cloth hood down over her head covering her face. Her ordeal’s taken barely seconds to commence, and just minutes before she’s bound and naked, arched out in front of him blindfolded and secured to a post, virtually defenseless to his whims.

She’s teased him enough, he thinks to himself, now it’s time to act out one of his many fantasies with her since she enjoys flaunting herself, doing whatever and whoever she wants, now its time for her to find out who’s boss.  Seeing her naked, spread-eagled on her knees in front of him, he watches those big breasts sway, bounce as she struggles to free herself, grunting, gyrating in the tight bindings.

‘Thwack!’  The sound of leather dances across her bare flesh once, twice in rapid succession.  ‘Thwack!’

       “Humph!.... Ooooohhhh!”  Her voice shrill, almost defiant as she’s fully alert to the pain,  her verbal responses simultaneous with the sounds of leather smacking across her naked skin seems like music to his ears.  Seeing her struggle, grunt and grown as her nude body twists and turns in the ropes, he smiles to himself while focusing on her swaying, jiggling breasts he’s so infatuated with hurting.  Taking a breath, the adrenalin flowing, he’s waited, planned about having her like this for so long, he’s actually nervous about the consequences when he’s done.

Then again, everything’s perfect at this very moment as he allows the whip to dangle as he stares toward her reddening breast, even better then in his escalating dreams, the fantasies so overwhelming to him for so long.  Yes, this time he smiles to himself, it is perfect, because this time, it’s all for real, her naked body right there in front of him squirming in her bondage, a couple fresh red welts already standing out on one of those incredible melons jaunting out to be serviced by the flicking leather crop so tightly grasped in his clenching fist.  Momentarily lowering the flexing whip, waiting for her grunts to subside, stepping toward the other side of the podium; he eyes that quivering breast, its jiggling nipple, again flicks the willowy crop back and forth in his hand lining it up just so, then not so lightly flicking it across her heaving chest, backhanded, then forehanded flattening that areola a couple times in quick succession.

‘Thwack… Thwack!’

“Huuummpphh!”  Her anticipated verbal responses continue to just add to her visual gyrations.  “Aaaggghh!”

Again, so satisfying, intoxicating he thinks to himself as he lowers the crop, stares at her bound body, those bobbing breasts already beginning to glisten with perspiration.  The short chrome pole in the center of the room gleaming behind her, its vertical crossbar covered in contoured black foam padding pressing across the back of her arching shoulders, he again repositions himself off to her other side.

Being forced to kneel, bow forward with arms bound to the bar, the black silk mask loosely covering her head concealing her face, the only orifice in the mask is the double stitched oval slit compressing so tightly around her perched lips circling the ball gag.  Arms tautly outstretched at shoulder level, both forearms tied off just below the elbows with black nylon rope attached to eyelets on either end of the crossbar, the ends of her hair flutter down from beneath the mask, the dark tangled strands curling randomly behind her arching shoulders bowing her chest outward, now sporting the mounting series of fresh whip marks, discoloring welts.

Listening to her mumbling through the stretched slit, obviously perplexed even while bordering on exhaustion, her angered grunts with each labored breath, he’s certain she knows who’s responsible for her humiliating torment.  Nostrils sucking in, expanding the stretching material clinging across her face with each rasping inhalation, the stinging sensation of the series of lashes resonating across her welt streaked breasts are obvious.  Fingers spreading, clenching as her hands flex outward from her twisting wrists, her legs forcefully spread, ankles separated by that chrome pole positioned upright between her feet with both knees pressed flat against the platform, her black webbed pantyhose attached to the matching Chantilly lace garter belt remains the only other semblance of her risqué clothing from her long evening out.

       Stepping away, momentarily catching his breath while off near a corner, he watches, almost mesmerized while laying down one whip, picking out another.  A more ominous choice from a soaking vat he’s stocked for this occasion, he glances back, watches her as her head droops down above her thrust out chest, those teasingly bare breasts standing tautly upright, still so globular, still so firm while jaunting out for him from her arched body, the puffy areolas pointing apart beneath the freshly applied welts, toward the hallows of her armpits.

A short gold chain around her neck holding a dangling set of stylish dog tags sparkling as it brushes back and forth across the valley of her sternum, a new accessory; it’s probably a gift from the past evening’s admirer, probably for services rendered earlier on, he thinks to himself as his fingers tense, twist around the crop’s handle.  Shaking the brine from the lithe, willowy leather whip above the vat, taking a deep breath or two, he watches her secured virtually rigid in her bindings, her flattening stomach sloping outward beneath those enticing targets.  Glancing lower, toward the puffy folds of her labium delicately parting between her extended thighs, the nub of her clit peeks out below her exposed, obviously freshly shaven pubic mound, again likely shaven for her night out, a telling sign she got herself laid.  Sans panties, as with her bra, both discarded when he swept her from her bed just after she got in doing the early hours of the morning, seeing her in the rest of the remnants of her exotic underwear seems even more irresistibly enticing then having her totally naked.

       Flicking the new crop back and forth, up and down, back and forth, listening to it whistle ominously through the air, he glances again and again at the sparkling dog tags, gradually steps toward her while eyeing the handful of initial well placed stripes already visible that he’s just inflicted across the upper curves of those almost perfectly symmetrical mounds surrounding those fucking tags.  The initial lashings not really harshly applied, rather moderately actually, then again meant more to leave some marks, to get her attention, more to piss her off then to inflict any real pain, even to make sure she’s aligned in her bondage just right for the coming workout, he knows those initial welts aren’t even close to what she’s about to receive.

Flexing the stiffer, split-tailed crop, he intently watches as he flicks it across the palm of his hand.  Just the slight snaps stinging as a mist of moisture spraying off his fingertips with each crisp flick, he realizes just how much more effective, and of course painful this vinegar soaked crop will be dancing across that exposed titflesh.  Yes, the ‘smacking’ sounds to come, her responding grunts and more to follow, the visual aspect of the leather working her bare flesh time and again will be infinitely more exciting, even exhilarating to administer her.  Yes, some serious pain with a serious crop for his favorite whore sister.

His mind beginning to race, the tunneled thoughts seem almost overwhelming on fulfilling his countless fantasies involving her as he again approaches the small podium.  Positioning himself in front of her defenseless form, letting the split tips of leather practically waver just out off a twitching breast, looping, circling barely touching the tan oval circumference of the shimmering areola time and again, he watches her instinctive reactions with amusement.  Reaching out with his free hand, palming, cupping, lifting the firm tit flesh upwards, the swelling nipple dangling out from between his spreading fingertips, her entire body begins to noticeably quiver, even tremble.  Her head bowing backwards, forwards with each fluttering touch of leather teasing flesh as he squeezes that symmetrical breast, the outthrust nipple jiggling unprotected, it’s the very apex of his next target as she obviously struggles between anger and uncertainty in her semi-conscious state.

Taking his time while melding her firm titfelsh, he allows his fingers to press into the resilient mound, harshly tweak the thickening nipple to stretch it outward.  Directing an ominous touch of the tip of leather to the hardening nub centered on the shriveling bare oval of flesh so high on the clenched mound brings another noticeable reflexive response of her naked body mixed with a rasping grunt from the slit in the mask, seemingly no longer belligerent, now more of anxiety.  Another wave of the crop across the other jiggling nipple, again her body quivers as she appears to pleadingly grunt through the mask, reflexively arch, obviously sensing that what’s soon coming isn’t going to be all that pleasant.

Enjoying the game, his rules, he slowly grips the handle of the crop firmer.  Squatting, centering himself, the nub of her thickening nipple jiggling, faintly glistening, he glances again toward the dark mask covering her head, then back to that bare breast being squeezed tighter, back again to the cloth drawing rapidly inward around her nostrils as her tummy contracts, expands in what’s become her uncertain anticipation.  Sensing the supple flexing of the crop in his fingertips, allowing just a few more inches of space between swelling nipple and the tips of the crop as he aligns the two just so, taking a deep breath, anticipating what her response will be when the leather burrows into her titflesh, he flicks his wrist, harshly, and watches, listens.

       ‘Swish… Thwack!’

       “Huuuummmmmpppphhhh!... Aggggghhhhhh!”  Her screeches overshadowing the smack of springing leather across her flattening areola just above the swelling nub of the nipple, her fists reflexively clenching, her bound body arching, twisting in the rope restraints, the instant, piercing pain obviously startles her as her supple titflesh momentarily engulfs the flexing leather.  Saliva spewing from her perched lips, inaudible grunts, the whip leaving an instantaneous embedded welt right across the areola, the nub of the nipple, it seems this is going to be the right crop for the job.

Exhilarated himself with the feel through his clenching fists of crop smacking flesh, the sound of her frenetic screech, the visual response of her naked body really being flogged, he jerks the leather lash away from her flattened breast, grips the end of the crop even firmer while soaking in the sight of her animated contortions.  The harsh leather damp, warm to the touch, he flexes it back as he releases his grip of that breast, ever so slowly steps toward her other side, squats, momentarily eyes the other bare nipple jiggling on that bouncing breast as if awaiting its turn.  No longer just half-hearted smacks to tease her, now the real punishment’s really begun.

In no hurry, his heart rhythm picking up a beat, he’s infatuated with the sight of her vulnerable, perfect body trembling, arching outward for his sadistic pleasure, her covered head emphatically twisting back and forth against the top of the chrome post, the freshly inflicted red welt vividly standing out on the still throbbing breast, that split-tailed stripe so more brilliant then the rest, contrasting so drastically with her bare flesh.  Glancing closer to her stretching lips barely protruding through the mask’s oval slit, quivering, saliva drooling, glistening across her covered chin as she incoherently mumbles something unintelligible over and over, he takes a long, slow breath himself.

       Her tone obviously altered, now anguished grunts even guttural, he’s intrigued, especially noticing the crimson specks glistening along the fresh red welt crossing her shriveling nipple inflicted from the flexing stiff leather wand he’s chosen.  Then again, so many fantasies, dreams, thoughts of having her just like she is now still seems so surreal even as he centers the crop and holds it steady just out in front of the other bare breast, also offered outward, jiggling with each rasping breath.  The flesh so firm, so enticingly presented to be punished, to feel the whip, the tan areola already shriveling, he stares toward the puckering nub almost perfectly centered for the again flexing crop as he cups the quivering titflesh, hoists it upwards for alignment in his palm.

Yes, he thinks to himself as the leather flexes in his centering hand.  Again so much to absorb, to enjoy manipulating with just about every part of her body totally exposed, tautly offered out in front of him for his unboundaried imagination.  The excitement escalating, both sadistically and sexually, he squeezes the tips of his fingers, watches the black shaft uncurling, springing outward in its ominous arc to flatten across, then envelope into that receptive thrust out mound.

       ‘Thwack!’

       “Aaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhh!”

       Oh yes… Yes… Yesss, his mind races.  Her enticing scream instantaneous, that harmonic blending of sound of supple leather engulfed by the firm titflesh so perfectly, spattering a hazing mist from that engorged nipple, all seeming to happen almost in freeze frame as the tip of the crop remains momentarily burrowed into her most tender flesh, virtually out of sight, if just briefly.  Heart pounding, throbbing now almost as harsh as hers, stepping back a step, he watches her arms flex, rip at the tight black ropes embedded themselves, her naked body thrashing in front of the unwavering post while the black mask jerks from side to side, flattens against her face with each screeching grunt.

Every tendon, muscle beneath her taut skin seeming to tense, spasm in rippling waves, he kneels directly in front of her, savors the couple minutes or so of her involuntary contractions, the latest inflicted crimson welt rising thick and tall to more then match the other, with maybe an extra speck or so of bright red blood again oozing just below the still jiggling nub of that ripped nipple.  More guttural mutterings, pleadings, her puffy lips protruding grotesquely though the diminutive slit of the mask chafes against the stitched seams, distorts the cloth.  Smiling to himself as brief seconds turn into a couple more minutes, enjoying her pain, immensely enjoying her pain, he listens intently, quietly watching until she appears to finally somewhat collect herself, at least as much as possible under the circumstances as the initial red specks become trickles of blood tracing downward off the rounded bottoms of those welted mounds.

Almost casually sliding down in front of her trembling form, laying the crop down, he glances around for more rope coiled on the podium beside her.  Stretching, wrapping the other lengths of pre-cut black nylon cord around her legs above and below each calve, he stretches, tugs until her knees spread further apart, shuffle even further outward to his satisfaction.  Tying off the ends of the ropes to eyelets in the base of the pole’s oval shaped platform, retrieving the crop, he listens some more to her instinctive, obviously pleading grunts as he allows the leather split tips to glide ominously up across her inner thigh, slide out across one of the taut straps of the stretching garter belt, unsnapping it.  Tapping teasingly across her exposed pubic mound, flicking across a puffy labia fold, then the other, he’s amused at the sight of her thighs quivering, muscles contracting beneath the webbing of her nylons as he flicks back and forth just a little firmer, again and again, somewhat teasingly, somewhat menacingly as her stomach muscles ripple, breasts jiggle, along of course with her unintelligible mumblings.

Taunting her, watching her struggling against the binding ropes while trying to defensively close, press her thighs together as she babbles on, he allows the leather tips to flatten, flex across her clit, shove the nub inward to slowly disappear an inch or so inside her spreading slit.  Again thinking to himself, wondering how she reacted earlier to someone else fingering her cunt, how she gave in to someone else’s touch before being fucked, he presses the tip of the crop a little harsher up between her thighs.

“Humppphhh!”

Hearing her aggravated responses, glancing up toward her thrust out breasts involuntarily swaying, bouncing from side to side on her arching chest as her naked body noticeably shudders, he continues with her torment, slips the crop’s tip in and out of the moist orifice, twisting, thrusting a little deeper a couple more times, each thrust intently dragging the swelling, unprotected nub in and out with it, stretching, tugging at it.  Finally giving a couple light taps, sure she must have an idea of what’s next, he watches her head twisting back and forth as the exasperated grunts escalate through the drooling saliva.

Kneeling closer, pulling the crop slowly back, away as he flexes the freshly damp tips in his fingertips to form a looping circle of glistening leather horizontal to the floor, he draws it ever tighter.  A firmer grip as he centers it between her spread thighs for its most painful effect yet, right out in front of the gapping slit she undoubtedly enjoyed sharing earlier that evening with someone else, he gives an extra twist of the bowing leather, releases it to ‘swish’ through the air in its short but vicious arc.

‘Swish… Thwack!’

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

A bordering on hysterical screech as the leather curls, smacks between the spread folds of her vagina, the split tip flattening the nub, disappearing into the hollowing slit, waiting a brief moment, he draws the crop back from her reddening clit as her naked body seems to shudder, then bounce up and down, gyrating, stretching at the nylon ropes.  Traces of urine trickling down her inner thighs, head curling back, her delicious screams echo across the room.

“Agghhh!... Aaaaggghhh!.... Huummph!”

Repeated rasping gasps of air between contorting gyrations, seemingly continuous pitiful grunts from the mask’s drenched orifice, he’s still infatuated even more with her bruised breasts flailing across her thrust out chest.  Focusing on the perfect pair bouncing, elongating, smacking together as her bucking body arches, bows back as her head twists, slams across the top of the chrome pole, the mask’s cloth sucking in, flailing out around her nostrils, her contorting lips, he continues to anxiously flex the crop back and forth in his clenching fists, now sensing the throbbing between his own thighs as he soaks in her screeches.

“Aaaagggghhhh!... Aaaaggggghhhhh!... Humppphhhh!”

Absorbing those anguished responses, her seemingly on the verge of hyperventilating with wheezing breaths, the cropping of her cunt’s obviously the most painful of the lashings.   The sight intoxicating, again for at least the next couple minutes, even as she finally begins to sag almost limply in her restraints, but now it’s back to her breasts, those perfect globular mounds he’s had countless fantasies of abusing that plays on his imagination.

Positioning himself, a couple haphazard practice flicks through the air, then backhanded, forehanded, the lash slashes across her naked flesh, across the bottoms of the firm mounds, those perfect breasts jerking, bouncing, then another backhand, forehand across the upper curves, the red welts instantaneously standing out, glistening just above and below the thick nipples dripping specks of blood, springing back and forth, her response now becoming muffled grunts, whimpers.

Back and forth, briskly back and forth with the curling leather as he also steps back and forth, one side to the other, then back again, until at least a dozen more strokes overlap her bruising flesh in rapid succession.  Her head slumping forward, her shimmering body still bowed outward now but held upright by the crossbar, her breasts seeming to visibly pulse, those mounting freshly applied reddened welts crisscrossing her shimmering areolas, he finally drops the crimson tipped crop, reaches out, cups the pair of welt marred melons in his upturned hands.  The flesh warm and moist, pliable as he melds what rivals a pair of succulent cantaloupes to him; he presses his thumbs across, into the bruised nipples, forcing the swollen nubs inward as her titflesh bulgess in his palms, between his flexing fingers.

Her breath continuing to be raspy, saliva drooling from her puckered lips protruding from the stitched slit, he melds, twists, stretches her breasts a little further as the dog tags, one with her initials, the other obviously someone else’s, jiggle, stick to her damp sternum.  Leaning forward, a flick of his tongue back and forth across one nub, the other, the taste of her damp flesh exhilarating, especially mixed with the crimson tinge oozing from the fresh welts, he briefly sucks a nipple, the areola in past his lips, between his teeth, firmly clenches down.  Another now barely audible grunt as her chest reflexively quivers, her breast slightly jerking a couple times, he grinds slowly back and forth across the bulging nub, feels its swelling thickness pressing against the tip of his tongue as he clamps down a little harsher, just for a moment, chews down, drawing another unheeded whimper.

Sliding back, standing, stepping behind her, another length of rope, looping it two three time across, behind her shoulders, sensing practically no resistance now, drawing tightly in short crisp jerks with each loop, her back bowing harshly behind her forces those battered but still rock hard mounds to spread even wider apart across her chest as they bounce, sway further outward with each tug.  Finally tying the rope off behind her impossibly arched shoulders as her renewed grunts pitifully gasp through the stitched slit from her quivering lips, her naked body contorted obscenely outward from the post to his satisfaction if not hers, her breasts and vagina more then fully exposed, fully vulnerable, the handful of raising welts glisten in crimson, uneven streaks across her tanned flesh.

As he steps in front of her, kneels, sliding on his knees again to eye level with her, shuffling within inches of the crimson welts weaving across those symmetrical mounds jaunting out in virtually opposite directions, his attention centers on the bruised areolas, the thick nubs of her nipples still jiggling in sequence with each labored breath wheezing through the cloth mask’s slit.  His adrenaline rush at its height, melding both beading mounds, running his fingers across the rising welts, he feels the constant stirring of his stomach, the incredible sensation of an unattended ejaculation mounting, rumbling from deep inside.  Arching back in a squat, pressing between her breasts with his throbbing shaft, pumping his hips, stroking his cock between her stretching melons, his load spurts, gushes up across her chest, across her covered chin, past the slit in the cloth, up across her concealed eyes.  Standing, squirting another spurt, yet another as he randomly coats her bare flesh from chest to head, his hips tremble as his fingernails dig into her titflesh, presses inward, stretches her breasts outward toward his pulsing shaft, swipes back and forth.

Finished, stepping over to the vat, a sopping sponge in hand as he returns, he begins swiping back and forth across her mask, her chest, down her flexing stomach.  The brine splashing, soaking, streaking across her bare flesh highlighting the fresh welts, her body jerks, spasms uncontrollably as the bitter solution penetrates her chaffed flesh.  More guttural screeches, raw and rasping, again the sight and sounds of her reactions are intoxicating as he steps back to the vat, re-soaks the sponge.

Leaning, thrusting his clenching fist upwards between her thighs, pressing the collapsing coral across her cuntlips, back past her rectum, swiping back and forth, plunging his sponge covered fingers across her clit, a few inches up inside her spread slit, again the curdling screeches, again her naked body contorting as the salty solution’s remnants pour down her legs, splashes between her curling toes.

Stepping back a few steps, dropping the sponge in the vat, watching it float, sink between the leather crops, every second’s invigorating.  Stepping back, he circles slowly around the occupied post, scans her taut body uncontrollably quivering, glistening, the vinegar laced water beading, mixing with her perspiration and blood.  The welts, bright red crimson streaks crisscrossing those succulent melons still standing just as upright, spread apart, dripping wet as they noticeably pulse.  Watching the rippling tremors of the rest of her glistening body, her swollen lips quivering, sandwiching the gag between the double seamed slit, he feels his semi-erect shaft already beginning to twitch again.

A smirk spreading across his face, arching his hips forward, swiping his responding shaft back and forth across the mask’s slit, pressing the sides of his cock across her protruding lips; he watches the remnants of his cum dribble across the chin area, drip across her glistening chest.  Reaching for the gag, ripping it from her mouth, he reaches for her breasts, thumb and forefinger slipping across the puckering nubs, squeezes, tugs outward.  Feeling the firm, thick flesh swell as he pinches, twists through the crimson haze, he grins, thinks it’s time to deep throat her for awhile, even if it rips the mask too.

END PART FIVE