Filling up the Virgin(209)

“There is no money, Mrs. Partridge,” the lawyer said. “Mr. Partridge hadn't yet finished setting up the trust fund he planned to leave to you. And by law, it doesn't matter what he 'planned' to do. It only matters what was written on paper. And the only completed copy of a will is this one.” He tapped the pages on his desk.

Mom continued her protests, but Matt put a hand on her knee. “Don't worry, Mom,” he said. I winced when he called her “Mom,” knowing he didn't see her as a real mother. “I'll make sure you're taken care of.”

“You will?” She looked up at him with desperate hope in her teary eyes.

Matt looked right at me, looking me dead in the eye. “Yes. I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

A cold shiver worked its way up my spine.



* * *





“Because,” I whispered, licking my lips, “you're my stepbrother.”

Matt stood towering over me, waiting for me to submit to his will. He'd told me what he wanted before he would help take care of my mother. He wanted me. My body, my willing submission to his desires. I'd said no at first. But then I'd realized what a desperate situation my mother was in. Before she'd married Mr. Partridge, she'd been deeply in debt and on the verge of losing her house. Once she moved into the mansion, she'd sold the house, quit her job, and left her old life behind. But now, if Matt decided to, he could kick her out of the mansion and she'd be homeless in the streets. I didn't know if he'd actually do it, or if this was all a game to him, but I knew that either way, I was a pawn in his scheme.

Matt slipped his hand into my tight white blouse. I trembled as he touched my breast and pinched my nipple. I wanted to be angry with him to be disgusted that he was making me do this. But deep down, I knew this was what I wanted. I wanted to be used by him. To be dominated like this. To be forced into submission.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me down to my knees. I looked up at him, trembling. Yes, this was how I wanted it. I was too scared to admit my desires to myself, too ashamed to take what I wanted. So if I told myself he was forcing me, if I pretended that I had no choice, then it was as if I wasn't the one making this decision. I'd pretend that he was taking advantage of me so that I could get what I wanted without being disgusted with myself. Because no matter how much I tried to deny it, I desperately wanted my stepbrother. I wanted him to hold me down, to take me, to claim me as his own, to have his way with me in the dirtiest ways possible.

But I wouldn't admit that aloud. Not to him, and not to myself.

“Please,” I whispered. “Don't make me.

Please make me, I thought silently to myself.

“I'm just giving you what you've always wanted, Sis.” He grinned as he started unzipping his pants.

“No,” I said, lowering my eyes in shame. “No, I don't want to.”

Yes I do, I thought.

He reached down and grabbed my chin in an iron grip, tilting my face up towards him. “Open your mouth.”

I did as he told me, and before I could pull away, he thrust himself between my lips.

I moaned and closed my eyes, letting him do as he pleased. Letting go of my fears, of all control, was liberating. All I had to do was kneel there and let myself be used, and I loved it.

He held my head by both sides, thrusting himself against my face. I reached up and clung to his thighs, holding on for all I was worth. I was ready to take everything, to swallow it all, though I knew there was more to what he wanted.

He started to tense up, and I thought for sure his climax was approaching. But I didn't want it to end yet. I wanted to spur him on, to make him take me in the most forbidden way. He kept thrusting, and it seemed he wouldn't stop. I knew if I was going to get what I truly wanted, I was going to have to convince him to take me.

I needed to rile up his most dominant instincts. Make him more aggressive.

I pulled back, gasping for air. I backed away from him, pushing across the floor with my hands and feet. “No,” I said. “Don't.”

He glared at me, angry at being denied when he was so close to climax. He stalked forward, grabbing me. I struggled, but it was only for show. My struggles spurred him on, making him get rougher. He grabbed me and pushed me down to the ground, pinning me beneath him.

Yes, I thought. Yes, make me. Don't let me get away.

“No,” I said aloud, keeping up the charade. I couldn't tell if he knew I was faking my resistance. It didn't matter, though, as long as my fake protests kept spurring him to be more aggressive. “Please, let me go.”

“You want this, bitch,” he said. He pulled his pants the rest of the way off and knelt between my legs. “You're a tease. Do you like playing games with your big brother?”