Following Francis' climax in the garden, Peter maintained the same evening routine. Every night, he would ensure his sister was tightly secured to her headboard, and then he would toy idly with her breasts and twist her nipples until she panted; then he would hike up her skirt to expose her weeping sex, sometimes blowing air across her clit just to see it twitch and jump; and then he would undo his trousers and kneel over her face.
For the first week, she refused point-blank to fellate him, and threatened to bite if he forced himself on her. Midway through the second week, her protests stopped. By the third week, she was moaning quietly as she suckled on him, her twitching cunt leaving smears of fluid on her thighs and the bedding.
It was the start of the fourth week when she asked, her voice thick with semen and raw with desperation, "Peter, won't you just...let me touch?"
Peter paused in buttoning his trousers up and lifted his eyebrows, his mouth curving into a cruel smirk. "Why, sister, you didn't even last a month." She immediately flushed red and turned her face away, and he laughed. "You want me to uncuff you so you can rub your dirty little pussy in front of me? Is that what you're asking?" When she didn't immediately answer, he shrugged and turned towards the door. "Well, if you don't know what you want--"
"Yes," she said quickly, yanking her wrists involuntarily against the cuffs. "Yes, Peter, damn you, you know that's what I'm asking!"
He laughed again. "Alright. I'll think about it--tomorrow. I suggest you spend some time thinking about what you're willing to offer in exchange."
"You beast," she spat.
He simply smiled and finished righting his trousers, and then walked over to the bed and gave her exposed clit a brief tweak with his finger and thumb, making her gasp. When he withdrew his hand, her hips lifted, trying to follow; when he left the room and locked the door behind him, he heard her muffled groan of frustration on the other side.
***
"You can use my ass," Francis informed him the next evening, as soon as he started massaging one of her breasts.
"Hmm?" Peter responded, rubbing his thumb over her nipple until he could feel it stiffening under the thin fabric of her shift and until he could see her eyelids flutter.
"That's what you want, isn't it? You can do it, as long as you let me touch. Or if you touch me yourself--damn it, I don't care, just--I need to finish," she gasped, squirming under his fingers. "Peter, please!"
"I don't think you can need it that badly. You went six months without before the last one," he pointed out idly, moving his attention to her other nipple as he spoke, scraping his thumbnail across it until his sister whimpered. "What's happened to your pride, sister?"
"Do you want to use me or not, you deviant?" she demanded, the fire in her tone belied by her breathlessness.
"Me? Deviant? You're the one gasping like a whore while begging your own brother to fuck you in the ass," he reminded her, pinching her nipple firmly until she moaned. "I wasn't even going to ask you to do that."
"Then what do you want?"
He smacked her gently on the breast, just to watch the way the soft flesh yielded to him, and then leaned down to hike her skirt up. Her slit pulsed under his attention, leaking slick fluid in thick strings, and he wondered if she was so affected because she'd spent all day thinking about the bargain she'd planned to make.
"Peter," she begged. "Tell me what you want, I'll do it, I don't care. Just as long as you don't get me pregnant."
"Shameless," he tutted, and then stood up. "Actually, Frannie, all I want you to do is to listen to me. I'll let you touch yourself, as long as you listen when I tell you how to do it, and when I tell you to stop."
She stared at him, and then dropped her head back against the pillow in despair. "So you won't let me finish."
"I didn't say that. It may depend on how well you behave," he informed her. "Do we have a deal?"
She stared at the ceiling for a long moment before nodding. "Yes. Fine."
He leaned over her to unlock her right hand. She was dominant with her left, and he assumed she would prefer to use that one, but he thought it would be good to teach her to work with what she had. "I warn you, Frannie, you'll want to mind me, or you won't like the consequences." He nodded meaningfully towards a couple of items he had set on the bedside table that evening--a small pot of salve and a riding crop, the latter of which he picked up as soon as he'd freed her wrist.
"I understand," she said, staring at him as she flexed her hand. "Can I do it?"
"I think you mean to ask, 'may I please rub my needy little clit for you, brother?'"
She glared at him. He stared back at her, impassive. Then her hand darted downwards.
He was ready, and Francis only got a second of furious rubbing in before he was lashing her hand and thighs indiscriminately with the crop. She cried out and snatched her hand away, hovering it uncertainly around her stomach like she was thinking of going back in and trying for an orgasm anyway; then he struck her again across her exposed, twitching pussy, and she yelled and reached down again, this time no doubt thinking just to protect her more sensitive bits.
He grabbed her wrist hard and twisted it out of the way, bearing down on her thighs with his elbow to keep them spread, and delivered several more sharp strikes to her wet sex and one directly on her pulsing clit as she screamed and twisted her hips in a blind attempt to escape the pain. Then he dropped the crop and wrestled her back into the cuff as she struggled against him, trying to reach down and rub her abused flesh. "I told you to mind me, Frannie," he reminded her calmly.
"Fuck you! You're a monster!" she screamed, yanking at the cuffs as she was re-secured. He picked up the pot of salve from the side-table, and her screams became less angry and more alarmed. "No! What is that?"
"Maybe you should have asked that before you decided to try and pull a fast one," he suggested. "It's a salve using compounds extracted from hot peppers. Very effective for treating certain muscle aches, I'm told, but certainly not something that you'd want to get anywhere...sensitive."
"No, we don't need that," she said immediately, snapping her knees shut and then wincing at the pressure on her bruised clit. "Peter, please. I'm sorry."
"Always so ready to do what you will, and always so sorry when the consequences come around, sister," he tutted, carefully gathering a small amount of the salve onto a cotton swab. "I'm just trying to teach you some discipline. I hope you'll appreciate that some day. Spread your legs now."
"No, no, Peter, please, you can't do this. Please," she begged tearfully. Since she was showing no signs of complying, he wrestled her knees apart by force; she fought the whole way, but as always, he was the stronger, and he pried her open easily enough, exposing her smarting clit and swollen labia.
