Gazing at Emily

I am on the floor, stretched out but face up. My eyes focus as always on Emily's lovely cheeks and the warm enticing place with its goldenred hair between them. At first she would squat down over my face but now she sits on the toilet seat placed directly above me and it makes her parts more closed to me, more secret.

Of course I never know when it will start, the golden flow. Emily has trained me to always be ready for it. She will sit there and amuse herself while she waits until the exact right time to release her stream on my waiting face. I watch her gorgeous cheeks and I wonder how long it will be this time. She controls me in so many ways but she does not know that I have learned from watching.

I have learned that just before she releases her pee, her vulva makes a tiny almost imperceptible twitch. That signals to me that the golden stream has started down the short short way from her bladder and is about to spray me with its warmth and strength. I cherish this special knowledge, gained from my careful observation of my younger sister. It warms me that I know this about her.

She knows that I have always need her control, her strong will seated above my face. Our mother realized it too, from when she first told Emily, when she became 19, that she was to summon me, make me lift my skirt and lower my underpants, and go across my younger sister's lap and be spanked. I had mouthed off once too often to our mother and yet she sensed somehow that I needed this, I needed to be humbled, I needed to be placed in the horrid position of being disciplined by my younger sister.

Emily did not hold it over me. She merely quietly accepted the responsibility of disciplining her sister who was three years older. We are both older now but we live together and we come home after work and she decides everything. Over time she calmly introduced delicious refinements into our relationship. I now was to kiss her sex after being spanked. Then one day she ordered me on my back instead of over her lap.

I found myself entranced as I gazed up into her womanly core. Emily is so beautiful. She spread herself over my face and it was heaven. Her scent was gloriously feminine and the curl of her light pubes delighted my esthetic sensibility. Yet she always maintained a mystery. I never would know when the stream would start. Soon, I also realized I would not know what opening she would deign to allow to serve me each time.

It was only a brief time later that it was no longer punishment. It was the crux of our relationship as sisters. I had a highly demanding and high-profile job but at home, I was hers. I needed this. Needed it very very much. She smiled as she would give me the unspoken signal to prepare myself, which meant stripping to my bra and pants and laying myself down on the floor so she could squat over my waiting face. My task was expanded when I saw the white string looming from her front that she quietly directed me to remove...with my teeth.

I adored licking her tampon when it slowly emerged from her, warm and very very intense with her intimate smell. Only then was I allowed to lick her clean in front and only enough to lick her clean, no more. When her stream would end, I wanted to wipe her but I am not allowed to do that. It would be a privilege and someday I may be given that chance, but now Emily takes a few squares of tissue and dries herself down there while she sits over me.

She does not use me for the other very often. I have been trained to accept whatever she gives me, from whatever opening. And she does remind me with a little smile that she has three down there. It seems she has saved that for when she wants to remind me of my place. Not when she thinks I have misbehaved. It has gone far beyond that. I do get spanked and sometimes she even uses a small thin cane now.

The cane is more sensuous since she will probe between my legs while she uses it on my bottom. I have been accustomed to the alternation of pleasure and pain. In fact, I crave it and she knows it. She will give me a few strokes and then rub the cane softly between my portals, grazing the upper tip, the very very edge of my sensitive nub. It is heavenly.

But I know that if I forget my place she may use me for the other. It is the only time I felt I saw a touch of cruelty cross her lips, a thin smile that showed me the hardness deep inside my younger sister. She was very quiet, which meant that she was very angry with me but would not deign to show me that I affected her so. I had been in a great hurry dressing for a meeting and I had almost unthinkingly picked up a pair of her panties.

Emily indulges herself with lingerie in a way I never have. Her panties are silken and sweet and feel so very wonderful. She has calmly told me that they are hers and that if I want nice ones I should get my own. So when she realized I had worn hers, the thin smile hid a deep annoyance. She had me lie down in my usual way beneath her -- she was not yet using the seat then -- and as I watched her for the tell-tale twitch I suddenly gasped as her little puckered opening in the rear slowly bulged and then spread open to release a long soft piece that she cut off onto my amazed face. She picked up a tissue and removed it from my face before I could react. Then she said the terrible words that ordered me to lick the puckered hole clean. It has been very rare that I have earned that again.

Now Emily dates much more and I have acquired a fourth duty, licking her clean after a date. I can tell if they made love because she will taste so much richer. And when I am to do this, she spreads her legs and invites me to place my face between them. It is so much more intime that when she sits on the seat. The seat cruelly shuts her off from my eyes so all I see are the cheeks and the smattering of hair long enough to grow past the thin slit in front. I think she has less tolerance for my seeing her full vulval region any more now that she has sex so often with her dates.

But the secret thing—the tiny twitch. That remains our unspoken bond, unspoken because perhaps she does not know about it or certainly does not know that I know it. But I do. And it seals my love for her.