Desperate Measures 9

-Click-

I snapped back to consciousness and simultaneously drew in a deep breath. Something had dragged me from the warm embrace of sleep and I blearily tried to figure out what it could have been. For some reason I couldn't turn on my side so I lifted my head and attempted to pierce the darkness of the room.

Wait... darkness? I never draw the curtains all the way closed...

In my sleep-dazed state, the realization took significantly longer to crystalize in my mind, giving me ample opportunity to notice that I was not alone. I couldn't tell you what really tipped me off to the presence just outside of my peripheral vision, but I knew someone was watching me.

"Hello...?" I whispered sleepily, turning my head to get a better look at my visitor.

A patch of shadows moved at the sound of my voice and in an animalistic instinct I jerked upright, reaching for the knife on my bedside table.

Or at least; that's what I tried to do...

My hands and feet were unable to move more than a few inches of the bed. With panic-widened eyes I looked at my wrist, unable to see what restrained me. But I recognized the metallic sound and the tight, nearly sharp fit of the handcuffs anyway.

These were not the fun kind of handcuffs, like I'd used on more than a couple dozen occasions. These were the real deal, judging from the lack of give as I strained against them.

I attained this information in the span of two rapid heartbeats, quickly refocusing on the figure to the right of my bed's headboard. My imagination treated me to a collage of horrible tableaus from all the true crime shows I loved watching.

Oh, shit! Please don't be a murderer. Please don't be a murderer.

Please don't be a murderer.

All I heard were my shallow breaths, which I tried desperately to get under control and the rustle of fabric. Whoever -or whatever- it was slowly moved closer.

Well, this is it. I'm going to die and I never even got to... do... something... Oh come on! I can't even think of anything I should have done when I had the chance?!

A tickling sensation on my forehead startled me. I clenched my eyes shut and froze.

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! IS THAT HAIR?!

I nearly lost my damn mind when the kiss was pressed softly on my forehead.

"Hey, big brother..."

§

1

The warmth of her breath as she whispered the words was clearly contrasted against the cooling moisture her lips had left on my skin.

It took me a few seconds to put the pieces together and remember to breathe.

"Anna?" I said, my response barely audible. "What are you doing?"

"Mmm..."

She uttered the low purr, while she ran her fingers through my hair, like it was all the explanation I could possibly need.

Well, now this was just insane. In what world did she think tying me to my own bed would result in anything like a polite conversation?!

And what's with all the touching?!

"Anna." I whispered into the dark, my voice hardening with anger. "Get these cuffs off me. Right now, dammit."

My sister didn't give any indication that she'd understood me. Instead, she affectionately brushed my hair back with her hand and smoothly stood up from the bed.

Again, I heard the rustling of fabric as she appeared to fumble for something. She evidently found what she was looking for when the soft friction of paper on paper sounded from her direction. There were several light clinking noises -

toothpicks?-

and with a gritty scratching noise she ran the match over the length of the matchbook's striker strip.

Almost instantly, the chemically roused flame sizzled into life, making me flinch back with its brightness.

The not unpleasant smell of phosphorus reached my nose and I slowly opened my eyes, trying to let them get accustomed to the sudden light.

Anna stood beside the bed and used the lit match to kindle half a dozen candles to life, which currently occupied my nightstand. They were slightly yellow and as slender as my forefinger. A part of me wondered how she'd managed to keep them upright without a candlestick holder.

"Sorry about the cuffs, Art, but I'm going to need you to stay still for a while."

My sister spoke the words with a strange sort of calm. She was solely focused on the candles, lighting them in a measured, slow motion. Almost ritualistic, the way she moved.

The manner in which she held herself seemed trance-like in its serenity. I immediately thought of Tibetan monks who'd ceremonially light hundreds of candles, as an exercise in mindfulness. Instinctually I knew that no matter what I said, Anna wouldn't respond in any other way than she deliberately choose.

So rather than waste my breath I waited for her to finish her task and took in the scene that unfolded before me.

§2

The soft, flickering light was actually quite pleasant, now that my eyes had adjusted to the illumination. It showed me my sister, who was dressed in a short, white robe, that only reached halfway down her thighs. The thin material lay close to her body, outlining the slender curves of a young woman.

She wore no make-up and her auburn hair hung loose, reaching to her shoulders. A light dusting of freckles was visible in the glow of the candles and her kind, brown eyes tracked back to mine as the last wick whispered alight.

"Anna, what the hell?" I whispered. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah..." she sighed, still looking me in the eye and allowing a small smile to tug her lips upwards. "It's time to set things right."

Okaaay.

She reached to the knife on my bedside table and with a distinctive -snap- opened the blade into place.

"Eh, sis. What do you think you're doing?" I asked nervously as she stood over me.

She bent over me, moving the blade to my stomach. "hey, hey, hey!" I hissed in a violent whisper. "Anna! Put that thing away before someone gets hurt!" Panic tinged my words.

At last some of my words seemed to get through to her. My sister's jaw tensed for a second. She righted herself with a sound of annoyance and put the knife back on the nightstand.

"You talk too much, Arthur."

Then she promptly reached under her little robe with both hands and smoothly drew down her panties, before stepping out of them.

I was so dumbfounded by her reaction that my mouth hung open just a fraction, but it proved wide enough for my sister to deftly stuff her underwear between my lips. I gagged and coughed as the dry fabric filled my entire mouth.

"Is it really that bad, or are you just being a big baby?" She asked coyly, pouting her bottom lip as she spoke the last words.

Actually...

I could clearly feel the residual warmth the tiny article of clothing had held from contact with her skin and the scent...

Oh my god.

A shiver ran up my spine as the fragrance of my sister's used panties filled my mouth and nose. This was the kind of smell that could kickstart my Neanderthal brain into overdrive if I wasn't careful.

Dude! She's your sister!

I chastised myself.

Though, despite my mental reality-check, I could feel my body responding to the aroma of a young female. I couldn't help it.

"Thought so." Anna sing-songed softly as she watched my face go through several emotions in the space of a few seconds. "Now hush. I need to concentrate."

She picked up the knife again and without preamble slid the blade between my stomach and my shirt, causing the muscles there to tighten in anticipation. She calmly moved the sharp edge upwards towards my neck, shearing through the cotton shirt with ease.

I'm not gonna lie; when she came within inches of my throat I flinched. But apparently my little sister knew what she was doing. Two additional movements of the knife and a ripping motion later, she'd neatly removed my shirt. Leaving me bare-chested.

"Mmm," she mused approvingly, "I always forget how muscular you actually are."

She traced her fingers along the lines of my chest, down over my chiseled stomach. "This might even make what we have to do a little easier."

"What we have to do"? Is she on drugs or something?

I tried to tell her that she wasn't making any sense, but the improvised gag muffled my words into unintelligibility.

"I always hate this part," she said seemingly to no one in particular. Anna placed the keen edge of the knife on the thin skin just above the cuticle of her forefinger and pressed down. She winced as the blade bit into her finger, but to her credit never faltered in her action until she'd drawn a neat line of blood and had placed the knife down on the floor.

"There. Now I need you to lie still, so I don't mess up the symbols."

Oh, this is just getting ridiculous.

I drawled in my internal monologue voice.

Has she been getting into those witchcraft shows of her again?

As Anna dabbed her uninjured forefinger into the blood I knew what she was going to do next and I didn't like it one bit.

Charmed, Supernatural and Sabrina can kiss my ass! We're not doing this!

I strained against the handcuffs, attempting to either force the metal links apart or rip through the frame they'd been attached to. Eventually something had to give, right? I could fight my way free of this if I just made enough of an effort.

"Stop it!" Anna hissed.

Ignoring my apparently deranged sister, I continued to exert pressure on the steel manacles, drawing my arms down. Was it my imagination or was there a creaking sound coming from the wooden bed frame?

Anna put her hand against my jaw. "Arthur, please!"

The hurt and sadness in her voice gave me pause. That was way more emotion than the situation seemed to merit.

What in the ever living hell is going on here?

"Please..." she breathed. Tears glistening in her eyes. I felt the warmth of her hand on my face, soothing in its familiarity.

"Please stop struggling. I don't want to hurt you." She whispered. "But I need to save mom and dad."

§3

The perplexed expression must have been evident, because I could see her anticipating several of my questions.

"You know they've been arguing almost every day." She said, looking away. "They barely spend time with each other anymore and I don't know if they can fix it on their own."

I thought back through the last couple of months and noticed that I could count on one hand the number of times our parents hadn't been at each other's throat. "Hmm hm" I mumbled through the panties in my mouth.

"I know dad has been sleeping a lot on the couch lately, and mom's been drinking more than she should." Anna continued. "Melissa told me that's how it started with her parents."

Her eyes found mine and though her voice quavered, she spoke with an iron conviction in her words, "I'm not going to let them get a divorce, Arthur. I want them to be happy. I want us all to be happy."

Tears began to well up in her eyes.

"So... I started looking into ways to... help them." She sniffled and used the corner of her robe to wipe away an errant tear.

"I knew they'd never listen to me, 'cause I'm just a 20 year old kid. So instead I found a ritual that might be able to get them to connect again." Her eyes softened. "That's why we need to do this, Art."

I raised an eyebrow, shook my head and shrugged, hoping the gesture would prompt her to explain. She reached into the pockets of the short robe and drew out a discolored piece of paper. It crinkled as she unfolded it and showed it to me.

"It's an old pagan practice that's supposed to improve the ambient energies in the house. Kind of like Feng Shui." She pointed to a section of scribbles amongst other, equally indecipherable scribbles. "It took me a couple of weeks to translate, but basically is says that a native resident of a homestead can use these symbols and practices to amplify specific tendencies."

*Whuw?* I managed to stumble after a few heartbeats of silence.

Anna let out a short, soft laugh and wiped at her nose. "You dummy."

"I think that we can get mom and dad to rediscover their love for each other if we create an environment of relaxed, sensual peacefulness."

Ah.

"And to do that..." She began, arching her eyebrows slightly as she looked down to my lap. "

...

Two other residents need to engage in relaxed, sensual peacefulness. Meaning... us"

.

§4

For a long minute the flickering candles were the only thing that broke the quiet of the night. Anna fiddled with the parchment, but refused to meet my eyes.

"Wawe wese wanwies ouw ow my mouww" I mumbled vaguely.

"Promise not to yell at me?" Anna asked with a small voice.

After growling in the affirmative and rolling my eyes she pulled the now moist, lacey garment out of my mouth and I gratefully ran my tongue over my teeth.

Ugh, so dry.

"Alright, lunatic, I have some questions." I said skeptically. "How sure are you that this will work?"

"99%." She answered, tilting her hand in a vague rocking motion. "tons of people swear by it in the chatrooms I've been visiting."

"And what exactly do you expect us to do?"

"Well... -ahum- that's where it gets a little awkward. We're going to have to go all the way." She said, a blush appearing on her face. "I was hoping that by being kinky and meditating I could do it without... you know... it... getting weird."

So that's why she seemed so out of it when she was lighting the candles. She was trying to distance herself from something she didn't want to do, but felt like she had to.

"And having sex with your brother didn't seem like a major obstacle?" I inquired sarcastically, narrowing my eyes and tilting my head in the most obnoxious manner possible.

Now that really got her blush going.

"I- I -uh- thought I could pretend you were some kind of sex-doll." She began. "I've seen a few of those life-sized ones online... and really; it's just sex. It's not like we're in some creepy kind of relationship all of the sudden."

Those last statements came rushing out a bit too fast, but I let it slide for now.

"Okay, for the sake of discussion; let's say I can agree with that. Sex can be just a physical act."

"Exactly. Like tennis." She chimed in, sitting up straighter.

"But for the ritual to work, and tell me if I'm wrong, it would have to be, what? 'Passionate'?"

"Yeah," Anna nodded, her eyes flicking from mine to her hands and back. "Is that a problem?"

The uncertainty in her voice spoke volumes about how she viewed me. I wasn't just her older brother, I was someone who she looked up to, someone she'd wanted to make proud. I couldn't just turn her down out of some misguided prudishness about what sex should and shouldn't be. She'd gone out on a limb to save our family. The least I could do was meet her halfway.

I released a long breath, let out all the tension, shook my head and said, "no, that won't be a problem."

§5

Anna perked up noticeably. Funny how much power a few simple words carry, I thought to myself as she turned all the way towards me, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

Since she'd taken off her panties to silence me, that meant that I could see the delicate outline of her pussy, as she leaned backward.

"So how do we do this?"

"Okay, first we have to cover ourselves with a couple of symbols, which will allow us to channel power into the streams of energy around the house."

She prodded her already cut forefinger, prompting it to let out a trickle of blood.

"Blood is apparently the most effective conductor, especially if mixed with spit, since it conveys the practitioner's lifeforce more easily. And since we're trying to affect members of our own bloodline it's like a two-for-one bonus."

A little heavy on the mumbo-jumbo side, but, hey; she's the one with the magic parchment.

"Aha.. and uhm... Do I need to be tied up for this?"

She stopped moving for a moment, considering my question.

"I actually kind of like it. Do you mind wearing them a little longer?" she asked shyly.

That actually made me chuckle. Despite all her high talk of powers and sex rituals, my little sister was still just an inexperienced young woman when it came to intimacy. In a way it was kind of cute to see her confront her sensuality like this.

"Sure." I said, bemused.

"Great." She beamed. "I just-" She cut off, like she was afraid or embarrassed. "I didn't bring a bowl." She pressed her lips into a line and raised her eyebrows in befuddlement. "Can I-... Can I spit on your stomach? Just to mix the blood in, I swear!"

It was now completely impossible not to grin due to the absurdity of our predicament. My nostrils flared as I tried to suppress an erratic giggle. "Go for it."

"Here goes." Anna held her hair back and brushed her lips over the sensitive surface of my stomach. I felt her warm spit pooling in my navel. It seemed wrong that it felt so nice.

My sister squeezed five drops of blood into her saliva and stirred it around, mixing the two liquids. Then she brought her wounded finger to my lips. "It'll work better if we connect our essences on multiple levels."

"You mean that you want me to drink your blood?"

"Don't be a baby, Arthur, it's just a drop."

She barely had time to give me a mockingly bored expression before I guided her finger into my mouth and suck on it gently. I wasn't a stranger to the tangy, metallic taste of blood, due to my martial arts hobby, but had never quite enjoyed it. Though when my sister let out a little sigh I decided that it might be more enticing this time around. Judging from the increasing tightness in my shorts, the rest of my body agreed.

The intimate gesture ended way too soon, as far as I was concerned. Anna carefully retreated her finger and dipped it into the mixture of 'essences'. She used her fingers as a quill, drawing shapes of various sizes and configurations across my shoulders, neck, chest and stomach.

When she got to my hips she hesitated.

"You need to trace the symbols on my legs too, don't you?" I asked with mock timidity.

"Among other things...."

"Pants are in the way it seems. How to fix it, how to fix it?"

She looked up at that, a furious fire burning in her eyes. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Wouldn't dare." I ensured her, but whispered under my breath, "prude."

"Just because I don't sleep with everything that has a heartbeat, doesn't mean I'm a prude! You man-slut."

"Whatever you say, sis." I said with a little too much teasing in my tone.

One of her eyebrows arched as soon as she registered my taunting tone. "Really?" She drew out the word. "Alright."

She gripped the sides of my shorts and drew them down. My cock had been steadily hardening since I'd suckled her finger and her delicate tracing hadn't helped either. Now it flopped against my stomach with a rigid flexibility as Anna tugged my shorts around my ankles.

"Wow." She muttered as she looked at my manhood and truth be told; in that moment, tied up, about to perform a ritual, I wasn't as comfortable and self-confident as I could have been. Anna ran the tips of her fingers over my length and an electric shiver of pleasure arched my body. "So big."

Without warning my sister leaned forward and ran her tongue over my cock, from balls to tip. Leaving a tantalizing line of spit that I felt melting into my skin.

I may have let out a moan of pure lust, but my entire attention was focused on my little sister, who held up my meat, closed her eyes slowly and slid it into her warm mouth.

§6

It. Was. Heaven.

I may have called her a prude, but Anna knew how to make a man squirm. She slowly ran her lips up and down my shaft. Further and further down, while her tongue circled around my swollen head each time she reached the tip.

My hips started moving on their own, tying to hump in rhythm with her bobbing head, but each time I tried to move, she pulled back, looking at me with a wicked grin on her face.