Wrists

You keep still for a couple of minutes, straining to hear any sounds which might indicate where Amy is or what she's doing. There's nothing except the TV. You know that, if Amy's in her favourite place on the sofa, she'll be able to switch easily between you and the TV. She'll watch whichever is the more entertaining, and you consider frustrating her by not trying to escape, simply kneeling on the floor until the hour is up.

But an hour motionless, bound, gagged and blindfolded is not an attractive prospect. And there would be a penalty to pay for failure to escape. And if Amy was cross it could be a harsh penalty - maybe another hour in bondage.

So you begin to explore your bonds. You start with your wrists. You grope with your fingers, trying to find a knot or a loose end of rope. But the palm-to-palm position in which your hands are tied makes it impossible to reach back up to your wrists, which is where the knot must be.

You try to twist your hands around, but the snug coils of rope hold firm.

Giving up on your hands, you turn your attention to your elbow bonds. Your arms are pulled back so far that your elbows are almost touching. The position puts a lot of strain on your shoulders, and also thrusts your breasts forwards against the material of the leotard. There's no slack in the ropes at all - you can't even create any by forcing you elbows closer together.

After ten minutes you realise that there's no way you're going to be able to get your arms free. Worse, the tugging and straining has pulled on the rope that's looped over your wrist tie, causing it to rub between your legs. You're aware of a wetness, and the kind of tingly sensation that you get before you play with yourself.

You abandon your escape attempts for a few minutes, fighting to suppress the feelings coursing through you. You discovered masturbation a couple of years ago, but it's always been a solitary activity, and the idea of becoming aroused in front of your little sister is too gross to even think about.

But complete immobility is impossible. The movement of your belly as you breathe constantly varies the tension on the crotchrope, keeping you excited. Despite yourself, you moan into your gag.

There's a sound from the direction of the sofa. Then the faintest scuff of a trainer on the carpet. You know that Amy is standing in front of you. The game has gone wrong. Instead of enjoying the sensation of ropes hugging your body you're struggling to stay in control. You feel as if your body is perched at the top of a slippery slope, at the bottom of which is a cliff edge. Once it starts to move down the slope you're afraid that you won't be able to stop it, and you will end by climaxing in front of your sister. The very thought of it makes you turn crimson with embarrassment.

You lift your face to where you hope she is. "plmhfm hntnm mm. Lmt mm gh nhw"

"Oh, is the great escape artist in trouble?! But you've hardly tried to escape yet. You ought to struggle a bit - who knows, perhaps one of the ropes will come loose."

"Or is it that you're afraid to move? Perhaps one of the ropes is digging in a bit? Maybe this one..."

You feel a hand at your waist, and fingers gripping the rope as it travels down your belly. Before you can begin to try to protest the fingers pull sharply. Even the material of the leotard can't prevent the rope from digging itself between your labia, pressing against your clitoris and producing a moan which is part pain, part pleasure.

"I think that a great escape artist should at least try to escape, don't you Karen? It's not very interesting watching you just kneeling on the floor. Let me help you a bit..."

Without warning she pushes you over onto your side. During the second that you're falling you worry about hitting your head on something, but then you land on the carpet and other matters occupy you.

Amy's pull on the crotchrope, and your instinctive movement of your bound hands as you fell, have wedged the rope firmly between your labia. You're now so wet that it slides easily, massaging your clitoris. You can feel yourself losing control. Your body is starting its journey down the slope to the cliff edge.

You writhe on the carpet. There is no thought of escape, all you want to do is to find a position in which you can avoid, or at least reduce, the insidious effect of the rope. Keeping still is no longer an option. You try lying on your side, then on your stomach. You try lying on your back with your arms trapped beneath you. You try spreading your knees. The more you writhe the more the rope torments you. You beg, knowing that it will be futile.

"Plmhfm lmt mm gh. Dhn't mhgm mm dh thnf. Plmhfm..."

You can feel a pool of fire growing in your belly. You know that it's going to happen, and that you can't stop it. You're glad to be blindfolded, so that you don't have to look at your sister as she watches you.

You're travelling faster and faster down the slope. At some point you start to jerk at the crotchrope with your hands. Then you reach the cliff edge.

The fire in your belly erupts and consumes you. You spasm against the ropes, grunting and screaming into your gag. It goes on and on, but eventually the contractions die away, leaving you as weak as a kitten and soaked in sweat.

Above you Amy giggles. Fingers fumble at your blindfold, and seconds later you're blinking in the light as your kid sister looks down at you. She undoes the scarf that holds the socks in your mouth and you spit out the gag, but she makes no effort to untie you.

"Oh, wow! That was tremendous! What an orgasm! Never new a little piece of rope could make you cum sis. I wonder if you can cum again from it, so I guess that's the next thing we need to find out."

You glower at her, trying to decide whether to beg her to untie you or threaten her with dire consequences if she keeps you bound.