Chapter Two: Evening of Delight
Eric's imperious words rang in my ears as I saw him turn and stride down the hall to his bedroom, the limp form of my little sister Clara resting in his arms. For a moment, I hesitated, almost daring to disobey the command to follow them, to stay with them and watch whatever Eric was about to do with my sister. It would be the right thing to do, I knew, if only a symbolic gesture. I didn't have the strength or the will to save my sister from him, he had ensured that she was helpless to resist him no matter what I could do, but at least I could save face for both of us by refusing to watch, refusing to be complicit in his game.
From the moment he extended the order, the invitation, the offer, I was already decided. There was no chance I would pass up the opportunity to see more of Clara's corruption at Eric's hands. The passionate desire to look at Clara not as a sister but as a woman, as an object of sexual desire that Eric had awakened in me had always been there, at least from the moment I picked her up from the airport at the start of her visit. Seeing her form, her elegance, her matured appearance had only made me want to see more, to drink in every smooth curve and slim shape that composed her graceful, petite body. And now it was going to happen, I had been given permission to stare at her as she was sexualized before my eyes. If that made Clara uncomfortable, if she resented my obsessive, lustful gaze on her face and body, then she could remind herself who it was that had submitted so easily to the man who had offered the spectacle to me.
I followed down the hall, entering Eric's dark room as I saw his sillhouette bearing Clara's approach his shadowy bed. He sat down on it and turned on a bedside lamp, casting the two of them in a dim orange light that reflected sensually on Clara's lithe form.
"Shut the door, and have a seat," Eric ordered, gesturing to a chair by his desk.
I did as commanded, leaving the three of us shut within Eric's bedroom. I hadn't been inside it much, and was surprised by how orderly and tidy it was. His bed was large, a queen while I was still in a twin. He sat with his feet planted to the floor, Clara resting daintily upon his lap, her head resting on his chest as she lay against him. He kissed her and fondled her body, his hands running up and down her back and over her bare thighs. He whispered something in her ear, and began to pull the hem of her shirt up over her stomach. At this, Clara whimpered and attempted to draw her arms in over her chest, murmuring something I couldn't hear.
"It's alright, baby-doll, you can trust me," Eric said, and placing a hand under her chin, he tilted her head back to kiss her lips. I sat and stared, transfixed as I watched Clara melt into his kiss, her breath still ragged as he worked her shirt up over chest, until after a minute he broke the kiss and commanded her to raise her arms. Again she whimpered and shook her head, and turning her face for a moment, shot a wary glance at me. I understood that it was my presence as much as any general reluctance that was preventing her disrobing for him.
"Don't worry about him, Clara," said Eric in a dreamy tone, "He's just here to make sure you're okay...focus on me, sweetheart. Raise your arms."
His deep, steady voice and calm tone were too much for her willpower, and looking up at him with starstruck eyes, Clara lifted her arms slowly up over her head like a ballerina. Barely containing his eagerness, Eric brought her thin shirt up past her chest, up her arms and neck, until at last he brought her arms down again and pulled the shirt away, tossing it aside onto the floor.
I hadn't seen my sister bared like this before ever. Even when I had last been to a pool with her she had worn a more modest one-piece swimsuit. Now here she was in only a small white bra, and already Eric was unfastening this, and Clara was gazing at him in wonder and terror as he exposed her upper body for his eyes and mine. The bra came away, slipping down her arms and wrists, leaving her bare chest to view.
I had already known that Clara was not a busty girl. She had a slim, lightweight frame without substantial breasts, but what she did have I thought utterly lovely. Her breasts were small and shapely, without a trace of sagging under their own weight, little round lumps held upright by the tightness of her youth. Her nipples were tiny and perky, little pink buttons that stood out from her chest, beckoning to be touched and nibbled.
I took all this in in just a moment, because as soon as the bra was off Clara instinctively pulled her arms into her chest, covering her bare breasts and nipples. She whimpered more and visibly trembled, but Eric wrapped his arm around her bare body and held her close, his hands gently clasping her wrists and pulling her arms away slowly. She resisted him just enough that I knew she was afraid, but gave in easily enough that I knew she was already well within his control. He smiled and spoke quietly to her, reassuring her as he stripped away her defenses, both physically and mentally.
"There you go baby, good girl, let me see," he cooed, "You're so pretty, Clara, god you don't know how beautiful you are."