Charlie and Mindy Bk. 02 Ch. 02

"Yes—'delabitating…', 'dehabilitating'…, 'deblabita…', what you said. And DSB has really knocked me out. It means 'Deadly Semen Backup'."

She picked up a handy cushion and smacked me in the face with it.

"Charlie, you're terrible. I'm going to strangle you! Right now!"

She jumped on me, straddling me, and put her hands on my throat. She couldn't quite get them around my neck, but that didn't stop her from squeezing.

"Gack!" I said. She wasn't strong enough to cause me any real difficulty breathing, but I thought she deserved to think that she was accomplishing something. Something other than giving me a huge boner, that is. She was sitting on that, so she knew all about it.

"I'll give you 'Gack'!" she allowed, as she took her hands from my throat. She picked up the cushion again, smacked me with it two more times. She tossed it aside, slid her arms around my neck, pressed the length of her wonderful little body against me, and brought her mouth to mine. I felt the world stop spinning while we kissed. Our tongues intertwined with each other, and we each moaned into the other's mouth. My hands stroked up and down her sides and her back, as I marveled again at the curves of her hips and her ass. She ground her mound against the bulge in my pants; impossibly, it grew larger.

At length, she broke the kiss; the world began turning again. She raised her head and looked me in the eyes.

"I've missed you, Big Brother," she said as she continued to grind her pussy against me.

"Oh, Mindy, I've missed you, too. It doesn't feel right when you aren't near me," I replied. "I need you. I've never needed anyone the way I need you."

She kissed me again, briefly, and smiled at me. "And if that growth I can feel in your pants is any indication, you really are suffering from a severe case of DSB. We'd better get you into bed. I'll need to administer appropriate therapy. You're lucky. I just happen to have brought several kinds of semen extraction apparatus with me today."

I thought that …several kinds of semen extraction apparatus… sounded interesting.

"Will it hurt?" I asked in my best little-boy voice.

"It ought to, you big jerk!" she snorted. She grinned. "That's what you deserve for getting me so worried about you when I walked in. And if I weren't afflicted with SSDD myself, I'd just let you suffer." As she got up, she took my hand, pulled me off the couch, and led me to my bedroom.

Once there, my little sister had me naked in seconds and pushed me onto my bed. I landed on my side in the middle of the bed, facing her. In a few more seconds, she was naked herself, and we lay in each other's arms. My hands began to roam over her firm, rounded flesh.

"No!" she said, pulling my hands away from her body. "You're debilitated. You save your energy, while I administer therapy."

"Maybe I'm not as dehab…, deblab…, umm, weak as I thought," I suggested as my hands tried to roam some more.

"Don't you do that!" she said severely, removing my hands again. "If I have to restrain you, I will."

"Yes, Doctor," I said. "I'll be good."

"You are going to be very good," she said with her evil grin. She snuggled up against me and began kissing my neck where it joins my jaw near my ear. Slowly, her lips worked their way down and forward until she was kissing the hollow below my Adam's apple. I moaned and my hands moved to her chest, took possession of her lovely little tits, caressed them.

She stopped kissing me, raised her head, looked me in the eye.

"I warned you, Mister," she muttered.

She got up.

"Roll over onto your belly, Big Brother," she ordered, as she drew the belt from the jeans she'd taken off of me a few moments earlier.

"You wouldn't," I croaked, thinking she was going to lay that belt across my heinie.

"You're about to learn what I would and wouldn't do," she replied sternly, smacking her palm with the folded belt. "It's just too bad that you have to learn the hard way.

"Now roll over, or we'll just leave your DSB completely untreated. If we do that, you'll probably die soon. And it's an awful way to go."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, contritely, playing her game. Deadly Semen Backup, and her threat to make me live (or die) with it, had overcome my good sense. I tucked my hard-on up against my belly and rolled over toward her. One of my hands went to each of my butt cheeks, trying to offer it some protection from the belt in her hands.

"Yes," she snorted, when she saw how I was trying to protect myself, "a good licking with a belt is exactly what you ought to get when you don't do what the doctor says. But I'd never do that to a sick man. You're going to get a different kind of licking."

With that, she straddled my thighs just above my knees and sat on me, one of her butt cheeks on each of my thighs. Heat radiated from her pussy into the space between my legs; it ignited a fire inside me. My cock, now pinned between my belly and the mattress, felt like it was about to smack me under the chin. As she brought both of my hands up from my butt, she noticed the piece of webbing I'd been playing with the day before—it was draped over the headboard, where I'd left it.

"Even better," she muttered.

She tossed the belt onto the floor, grabbed the webbing, and pulled my wrists together, crossing them behind my back, my palms facing to the back. She wrapped the webbing around my wrists where they crossed, alternating a turn or two vertically with a turn or two horizontally until she'd used it all up. She pulled it tight and tied it. My cock, harder than ever, seemed to think that being at her mercy was a Good Thing. I wasn't so convinced, but it and I both wanted to know more about the "different kind of licking" we'd been promised—especially in conjunction with "semen extraction apparatus."

My little sister climbed off of me and stood up.

"Okay. Now roll over onto your back, and we'll continue your treatment."

I made sure to roll to the side that would give me a good view of her naked little body. I was mildly surprised that my boner didn't hit the light fixture on the ceiling; it sure felt like it should've. I wasn't altogether sure that I liked where this seemed to be going, though.

"Of course you know," I said, smiling at her, "that this means war!"

She smiled back. It was a wicked smile. Inwardly, I gulped: I knew now that she was up to no good—as if having my hands tied behind me hadn't been warning enough. Outwardly, I gave no sign of my new trepidation.

"Of course I know. Why do you think I tied your hands behind you?"

Somewhat belatedly, I tested her handiwork with the webbing. She'd done a better—much better—job than I'd thought she would. I'd underestimated her again. Her work with the webbing was nothing short of excellence: My hands were out of action until she decided to untie me. Oops! my inner self said. You've been snookered, and you're in big trouble.

"Oh, my!" she said with mock concern as she looked at my pole. "This is very serious. Your DSB has progressed much further than I thought. I've never seen a case so advanced. We're going to have to do something about that growth. And soon."

She got back onto the bed beside me on her hands and knees.

She looked directly into my eyes.

"But not too soon," she said, her wicked smile very much in evidence. Inwardly, I flinched. This wasn't going to be pretty.

Her lips nibbled softly on the side of my neck. Their soft, commanding warmth worked its way from junction of jaw and neck to the hollow below my Adam's apple. They continued on to the other junction of jaw and neck, went beyond to my earlobe. She nibbled it. I squirmed, wanting—needing—to touch her with my hands. While her mouth was busy, her right hand stroked my chest and my belly. Then she blew gently in my ear, and I learned that what they say about that is true: I would have followed her anywhere.

She brought her lips to the point of my chin and kissed her way down my throat, down, down, down the midline of my body. Using tongue and lips together, she blazed a trail—a trail of heat, moisture, and aroused flesh that headed directly toward my stiffened, pulsating rod. In anticipation, it stiffened more and pulsed more strongly. But the trail ended just below my belly button as her hair began to tickle my boner softly. There, to my dismay, she stopped.

Her mouth came back up to mine, and she kissed me lingeringly, her tongue entering my mouth, teasing my own tongue. As she kissed me, her right hand roamed, gently stroking my chest, my sides, my belly. Lying down, she pressed her naked body against my side. I breathed in the fresh mingled scents of her skin and her hair. And, faintly, in the background, I could perceive the foundation upon which those gentler fragrances rested, the profoundly female aroma of her pussy—my little sister's pussy.

She wiggled against me, and her perfect breasts, each capped with the hardened little button of its nipple, teased my upper arm and the side of my chest. Her little fur triangle and the curve of her mound stroked my hip, pouring gasoline into the fire that now raged within me. Fingertips moved gently down my chest, tickling down the track she had just kissed to my belly button. They kept on going slowly, slowly, slowly, down into my pubic curls. The flesh her lips had warmed now felt like it might burst into flame. Once again, she stopped, just short of my swollen cock.

I was frantic with desire. I strained, for all I was worth, against the nylon webbing that bound my wrists. It was useless; the breaking strength of half-inch nylon tubular webbing is about 1000 pounds. I writhed against her; my hips bucked pointlessly, mashing my hands into the mattress underneath.

She purred against me; I could feel her vibrate. It wasn't helpful. Not to me, anyway. She raised her head again, so that I could see her face. The wicked smile was still there; her eyes, her deep, deep blue eyes, looked directly into my own eyes. Her right hand roamed the upper part of my body, tickling here, tweaking there, stroking elsewhere. Her fingers touched me, here, there; and Little Sister's boundless sexual energy flowed into Big Brother, further fueling the fire inside me.

"God, Mindy," I moaned. "Untie me! Please! I need to touch you!"

"That's a common delusion among sufferers of DSB," she said, still smiling, still looking directly into my eyes, continuing the dance of her hand upon my flesh. "But in your debilitated state, it might prove fatal if I allowed you your freedom."

I groaned. She lowered her head to my shoulder and continued pressing her wonderful little body against me. Now the wet heat of her pussy against me suddenly claimed my attention. She seemed to know what I was thinking. After throwing her leg across my waist, she ground her cleft against me, using her outer and inner lips to paint my hip with her hot moisture, advertising what my cock would find between and within them—if only I could get it there. I redoubled my efforts get free. To no avail.

In spite of herself, she snickered.

And then she resumed her professional air.

"Shall we continue the treatment?" she asked as she parted my thighs with her legs and rose to her knees between mine.

The sight of her beautiful naked body, her perfect tits, her little bush above the hairless little cleft at the juncture of her thighs, was beyond bearing. It was all so close—and all so out of reach. That damned webbing held me firmly.

"Oh, God! Take me! Please! Mindy! Take me!" I pleaded. "I need you! I need my little sister now!"

"Soon," she replied. The wicked smile returned to her lips. "But not, as I said before, too soon."

Placing her hands to either side of me, she leaned down and kissed me on the breastbone. A heated glow radiated through my body from the point of her kiss. As she kissed me, her bare belly caressed the tip of my cock, causing it to surge powerfully.

"Goodness," she remarked, raising herself upright, looking at my cock, smiling, and looking me in the eyes again, "that is a troublesome growth, isn't it?"

As she spoke, I tried desperately to wiggle my way down the bed to bring that "troublesome growth" to its natural target. But, in my frenzy, I'd forgotten that she was kneeling between my thighs; her knees were in the way. She saw what I was trying to accomplish. Her smile turned coy; she shook her finger at me. She stroked my miscreant cock lightly with her fingers. My hips responded, thrusting upward and finding only air to drive me into. My lust for her had been frantic before, now it approached psychotic.

"You are a bad patient. But we'll continue your therapy anyway."

She backed down the bed away from me, leaned down, and brought her lips to the inside of my leg, just above my knee. Slowly, she began kissing her way, using lips and tongue again, up the inner part of my thigh. I thought I was going to burst. Against my upper body, her mouth had left a trail of warmth; now, on my inner thigh, she felt like liquid fire. Its heat poured into me; the flames within rose higher. I moaned. My hips bucked uselessly, again mashing my hands into the mattress and compressing my wrists painfully against each other. When her hair gently caressed my balls, she stopped and began again at my other knee. By the time her hair reached my balls again, I was muttering incoherently in my frustrated lust. She was driving me out of my mind with desire—with need to touch her—but I couldn't get my hands on her.

I looked down at her as she raised her head to look me in the eyes.

"Now," she said with her most evil, Satanic, grin, her eyes moving to focus on my cock, "it's time for your licking, Charlie."

And lick me she did. My little sister started at the base of my cock, just above my balls, and licked slowly, slowly, slowly, up the length of my shaft to the tip—just as she might lick a popsicle. Her eyes, now locked on mine, danced with her amusement, and with her own arousal, as she licked. She moved back down, a little to one side, and repeated. And again, and again, and again, until her tongue had reached every bit of my boner. At the first touch of her tongue, my whole body went rigid. It relaxed, momentarily, each time contact ceased while she moved back down to my cock's root; it went rigid again at the next touch. Mindlessly, my hips bucked, prolonging the torment. I snorted, I moaned. I grunted. I babbled. I was no longer merely psychotic; I was a gibbering wreck.

At last, she stopped licking. Some semblance of sanity returned to me, and I looked at her. She was waiting for my attention with a patient, but still wicked, smile. When she saw a glimmer of reason return to my eyes, she grinned at me again. I shuddered; it was her most evil grin, and she had proved beyond any doubt that I was in her power.

She placed her hands on my hip bones, and, putting almost all of her weight onto my hips, she effectively locked my butt onto the bed. Fixing her eyes on mine, she slowly, slowly, slowly brought her mouth down onto my cock. I watched, entranced—the way they say a doomed rodent watches the rattlesnake that is about to kill it.

Little Sister kissed the tip of Big Brother's cock.

I almost fainted at the touch of her lips.

When I'd recovered, she took my crown into her soft, warm, buttery mouth.

My hips bucked. Ineffectually. She'd foreseen it, and the weight of her body on my hips, in combination with the interference of my bound hands beneath me, nullified my body's instinctive animal response.

Her tongue swirled.

I almost fainted again.

She deep-throated me.

Now I was a drooling idiot, my mind unhinged by the sensations she brought my cock, by my need for release.

She pumped her head up and down a few times—not enough to bring me off, but a carefully measured dose designed to bring me to the brink and leave me dangling.

She'd reduced me to a pool of burning desire. My body had turned into a mass of warm Jell-O, that somehow supported a throbbing, erect penis. My cock had become the center of my universe; it felt like it was several feet long and made of granite.

When I could think again, I found that she'd brought herself up so that she straddled my waist on her knees. She leaned over and brought her lips to mine, kissed me deeply and lovingly. As she did, her naked tits touched my chest, sending still another shock wave of lust through me, blowing pure oxygen into the gasoline-fed conflagration. And she backed up to bring the hot, wet flesh of her cleft into full contact with the upper surface of my cock. I moaned into her mouth.

When she broke that delicious kiss, I looked her into her smiling eyes. I'd been beaten, fair and square. "I surrender," I said, weakly, with suitable display of humility and remorse, "absolutely and unconditionally."

She continued to smile at me, but said nothing.

I recited the formula: "Oh supreme victor, the vanquished abases himself in the submission of defeat and humbly implores your graciousness to grant a truce!"

"Oh," she said, with a truly malicious smile that mirrored the evil in her heart. "This isn't going to be an ordinary defeat. Not at all. This is going to be a massacre. An atrocity. You get no quarter. No prisoners in this war.

"And besides, Big Brother, I haven't finished treating your DSB."

Women just don't fight fair.

She kissed me again as she rubbed her bare tits against my chest and her furrow against my cock. I strained once more in futility against the webbing that bound my hands behind me. The demons of madness again stalked the boundaries—the crumbling boundaries—of what was left of my mind.

She broke the kiss and rose a bit. She put an elbow on my chest, cupped her chin in her hand, and looked at me contemplatively.

"But," she said, with the air of one weighing an important decision carefully, "that was a very courageous admission of defeat."

She paused. Her hot wet folds continued to slide up and down the length of my cock, tantalizing me with the promise of what lay within them.

"Maybe, as a reward," she continued after a bit, "we can move on to the next phase of your therapy a little sooner than I'd thought."

Not knowing what "the next phase of my therapy" was going to be, I didn't know whether to be grateful or apprehensive. So I indulged in both emotions and gulped.

She smiled malevolently at my gulp, paused so that I could appreciate her malevolence, and kissed me one more time. Again, as we kissed, she made sure that I was aware of her wonderful naked body in close contact with my own naked body.

The kiss ended, and she rose to her knees, still straddling me. She moved back until she'd positioned her groin directly above my straining boner. My hips bucked, trying to raise my hard-on high enough to accomplish something with the target she presented. Short as she was, her thighs were too long, my cock too short, and the hands bound under my hips impeded me too much; I succeeded once again in penetrating only air.

"The longer you keep that up," she said severely, "the longer you're going to have to wait."

"God, Mindy! Do me! Please, Little Sister! Do me! Now!"

I was pleading. The demons were about to conquer again. She had roused within me a beast I didn't know. With the last of my strength I restrained that beast: I forced myself to quit humping air and to lie, quiescently, on my bed under her.

"That's better," she said. "I think you've suffered enough. For now."

She reached down between her thighs, grasped my cock—her big brother's cock—and guided it into heaven as she lowered herself on to me. We moaned in ecstasy as her pussy—my little sister's pussy—welcomed me home again.