Blackmailed Brother
Lubrican
Blackmailed Brother
by Robert Lubrican
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2022 Robert Lubrican
License Notes
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Rights to use cover art purchased at istock.com
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Table of Contents
Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
*******
Prologue
I looked at my little sister, naked and crying her eyes out, still lying on the bed she was being raped on when I interrupted it. Actually, she'd almost been raped. She was okay, physically, but she was scared to death, even though it was all over. The guy I found on top of her was lying on the floor unconscious. I wasn't worried about him. His face would be swollen and bruised for a month, probably, and it was within the realm of possibility that I'd given him a concussion, but he was alive.
Her clothes were shreds and we were in the depths of a frat house, with a party going on outside the bedroom we were in. I really didn't want any of the partiers to see my hysterical, naked sister.
So, now all I had to do was figure out what to do about ... and with ... my sister.
******
Chapter One
It all happened because my little sister blackmailed me.
Well, I guess it really all happened because our parents demanded that, when she went to college, she room with me in the house I was renting while I attended the same school.
Whatever caused it, I was stuck with her and she wanted to spread her wings, something our parents definitely didn't approve of.
Part of it was my fault. I was the wild one, the one who got in trouble all the time, the one the cops brought home when I was caught doing a variety of things that would normally have been chargeable offenses, except my dad was a city councilman.
So I got special treatment. I didn't have to pay for my behavioral misdeeds.
It might have been better if I would have had to pay the price a few times. I might have learned a valuable lesson before things got out of control.
This is not to say I didn't learn anything in my misspent youth. I did. That's why, once I left home and was on my own at college, I calmed down a lot. Part of that was the result of the ultimatum my father gave me: "Get in trouble and your college funds are cut off." And this wasn't a three strikes kind of ultimatum. If I got in trouble even once, he was done with me.
I might have been wild, but I wasn't stupid. I knew that, without a degree of some kind, my job options would be severely limited. I'd either end up in manual labor, or asking people if they wanted fries with that. So I behaved myself. I was in my second year of college and these days I got drunk occasionally, but didn't let it get me in trouble, like it used to.
The problem was that when Ozmerelda, my sister, joined me at Wharburton College, she still acted like she had when I left home, and she viewed me as the same brother from back then. That meant she thought she had the upper hand, because she knew I was on thin ice with Dad.
That's why she blackmailed me. So she could do what she wanted to, instead of be protected, which is what my father demanded I do.
What did she blackmail me about? Well, I was dating a girl named Shantelle, who was a member of a race my father loathed. He's a dyed in the wool racist. Shantelle and I happened to be in bed when my sister arrived, unannounced, to move in. She walked into the house like she owned it and when she found me on top of Shantelle, her words were: "Oh, isn't Daddy going to love this! You, in bed with a nigger!"
Shantelle wasn't impressed, even when Oz apologized, which is why we're no longer dating.
And Oz, which is what I call Ozmerelda, immediately started holding what she'd seen over my head.
At first all she did was drink and skip classes. She didn't like them, she said. They were boring, she said. "You can't make me go because if you do I'll tell Daddy you were fucking a black girl," she said.
Basically she was still spoiled. She'd been spoiled all her life. She was a daddy's girl and she milked that for everything she could.
What got her (and most likely me) in trouble was that she demanded she get to go to one of my frat parties. I told her it was a bad idea, but she ignored me. I also told her not to drink, which she also ignored. And when I couldn't see her in the throng, and went looking for her, I opened a door to hear her voice yell, "Get off me! Stop!" I went in and found her naked, struggling and yelling "No!" and "Stop! Let me go!" at the top of her lungs as some asshole tried to push his dick in her.
He'd ripped both her top and her skirt during the "foreplay" portion of the event. He was one of those guys who says things like, "They all say no, but they don't really mean it. It's all for show."
Anyway, there I was with a guy beaten bloody on the floor and my naked, hysterical sister on the bed. Outside the room there were fifty or so people and the last thing I needed was for them to see any of this.
The one break I got was that the room belonged to Travis Hicks, a frat brother, who was back home for a funeral. So I had some time to think of what to do next.
I decided that priority number one was to get her covered up. An examination of her clothes suggested they were now rags, and would no longer work as clothing. Even her panties had been ripped. When I looked at them I suspected she had abrasions on her skin but I didn't look for them.
Oz is eighteen but looks like a fifteen-year-old who is trying to look twenty-one. If that's confusing, think of one of the fifteen-year-old contestants in one of the singing competitions on the major networks. They're girls, but they can sing, and by the time they get to the quarterfinals the makeup people have them looking entirely adult.
Oz looks young, partly because she's only five-three, but she's shapely out the ass. She's had big boobs since she was fourteen, and her hips finally caught up with her top. She's short but she's got a big attitude. For a few seconds I admired her body, but then I chastised myself and started rooting through Travis's wardrobe. I found a stash of panties (interesting!) on the floor of the wardrobe. I suspected they were "used" but I tossed a pair to Oz and told her to put them on. I picked a long-sleeve shirt in a western design. Travis came from a small town in western Kansas, and had done 4-H and rodeos all his life. Everything he had was of western design. The shirt was huge on her, but that was okay because it looked kind of like a dress. I found a belt and tried to cinch it around her waist, but it was a foot and a half too long so I discarded it. Her shoes were salvageable and she put them on.
She was saying, "I'm sorry, Bobby!" for maybe the tenth time and had calmed down a lot.
"You got two choices," I said. "Either you go out the window or you go out through the crowd. You're covered up, but it's obviously just a shirt and all you have on under it are panties."
She went to the window and looked out. We were on the second story, but there was the roof of a garage below the window, about five feet down. She turned and said, "What about him?" She pointed at mister rapist.
"I don't give a fuck about him," I said. "I give a fuck about getting you out of here without it becoming a major incident. If you want me to, though, I'll call the campus cops to come arrest him. It's possible they'll arrest me, too, since I might have broken his jaw. You'll have to make a statement and maybe go to court."
"I don't want that," she said. "But I don't want him to die, either. You beat the shit out of him, Bobby!"
"He was raping my little sister," I said. "What else should I have done?"
"I'm not mad at you," she said. "I just don't want him to die."
I went to the guy and felt his neck.
"He's got a strong pulse. I'm sure he won't die. We need to get out of here before somebody else comes in and finds this."
"I don't want people staring at me. I must look a mess."
She did. Her makeup had run when she was crying and her hair was all mussed. Her eyes were still red and a little swollen. I noticed a bruise on her cheek.
"Did he hit you?" I asked.
"Just once," she said, looking away.
"It sounds like you're defending him," I said.
"I sort of teased him," she admitted.
"Am I wrong, here?" I asked. "Do you like rough sex or something? Did I interrupt a date?"
"No!" she yipped. "I don't like any kind of sex! I'm a virgin, Bobby!"
"Okay, so what I learned in school was that No means No. You shouldn't have teased him if you weren't going to go further, but I heard you yelling no when I came in."
"I'm sorry!" she wailed.
I saw tears starting to well up in her eyes again. The last thing I needed was for her to melt down.
"We'll talk about it later," I said. "Window!" I decided verbally. "I'll help you get down off the roof."
It was cold outside, it being an October night. She said she was cold. I didn't feel all that sorry for her. I also didn't want to go find her coat.
To make matters worse, while I was helping her down off the roof of the garage, she sort of fell into my arms. My right hand went up inside Travis's shirt and I got a handful of soft, warm breast flesh. I felt her nipple and everything by the time I extricated my hand.
"Sorry," I muttered.
She said nothing.
By the time we got home she was shivering violently. She was still an emotional wreck, or at least very emotional. I didn't know what to do so I just ran the bathtub full of hot water and put her in it. For reasons I still don't understand, I took Travis's shirt off of her rather than leaving her to do that herself. She removed the panties and threw them in the trash can. She got in the tub and leaned back, closing her eyes.
I stared at her tits for maybe eight or nine seconds. I admit it. They're fine looking tits, after all. Then I left. I thought she'd be okay.
I found out different when, an hour later, while I was reading an online textbook, she came and stood in my doorway.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked, her voice small. "I'm scared."
"Nobody's going to hurt you here," I said.
"I know. Please? Just for tonight?"
"One condition," I said.
"Anything," she replied.
"No more of this blackmail bullshit."
"Okay," she said immediately.
And that's why I let my little sister get in bed with me and spend the night.
******
She started out on her own side of the bed. I could still smell the alcohol on her breath so I knew she had a snoot full. Apparently being raped sobers one up, but once the adrenaline's gone the alcohol takes over again.
"Thank you," she said in her Minnie Mouse voice.
"You're welcome."
"I love you, Bobby."
"We'll see if you still feel that way when you sober up," I said. "Now, go to sleep."
We fell asleep on our separate sides of the bed, too. It was a queen bed I'd found on the curb at the end of the previous school year. I rented the house in the off season because I got a better deal. I furnished it with cast off furniture, the bed included. The mattress was a little lumpy and without a sheet on it looked like it had been used to test stains for lab examinations. But it was a bed and it was big enough that we didn't have to touch.
I woke up some time later with a warm girl plastered to my body. She'd rolled over and put both a leg and an arm over me. I had on my skivvies, which was a nod to her because I usually slept nude. When she came to bed she had on a T shirt and (I presumed) panties. I found out now there were no panties. That's because her wet pussy was glued to my thigh.
If that wasn't bad enough, she was humping me in her sleep.
I lay there, trying to imagine the dream she was having after what had just happened to her. Whatever it was, it was causing her to glide her puss along my thigh for about two inches, before relaxing, at which time it slid back the other way. Her upper body was limp. It was her stomach and hips that were moving. Suffice to say it was bizarre.
If that wasn't bad enough, I got an erection hard enough to write home about.
I lay there, trying to figure out why I got a stiffy for my own sister. It was obviously for her, because I wasn't thinking about any other girl.
I knew I didn't want to fuck her. The recent incident might not be preventing her from having juicy dreams, but I was still horrified at how close she'd come to being permanently damaged by that asshole. And yes, I appreciated her attributes while I was being horrified, but that's just a guy thing. It's not intentional. It just happens. But I wasn't in the mood for sex. Not with my sister. Not with anybody at that moment.
So why did I have a boner?
I realized she did feel kind of good, all warm and draped over me like that. Her soft breaths were tickling my neck.
I chalked it up to Mother Nature and tried to go back to sleep.
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get to sleep with your sister rubbing her pussy on your leg?
So I tried to ease out of bed, so as not to disturb her and I went to my bathroom, where I gripped my schlong and jerked it like crazy.
I was almost there when the door opened and there was Oz, rubbing her eyes.
"What are you doing?" she asked. Then, "Oh. How can you do that after I almost got raped?!"
"Calm down," I said. "This isn't about you." I stood there gripping my little buddy and felt stupid. "It's because of you, but not about you," I tried.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Bobby?"
"You rolled up against me in your sleep, and you were ... um ... rubbing against me. Against my thigh."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked again.
"You must have been having a dream or something. Why didn't you wear panties to bed? You were rubbing your naked cooch against my thigh."
"No I wasn't. Don't be stupid."
"You were! I swear! And it gave me a boner and I couldn't get back to sleep so I came in here. Why did you get up?"
"I woke up and was all alone," she said. "I didn't like that, so I looked for you to find out why you got out of bed."
"Well, now you know."
"Bobby, I wasn't rubbing against you."
"You were and I can prove it!" I said. "Just feel your pussy. I bet it's still wet and slippery."
"I do not believe you," she said, folding her arms under her boobs. I'd seen those boobs recently. They were bigger than I thought. And now they looked even bigger, perched on her arms.
"Why would I lie? Just do it. Touch yourself and you'll see you were all excited."
"You are so gross. I'm not feeling my sex just so you can make a point. You're a pervert, you know that?"
"I'm not the one who was humping her brother," I said.
"You dreamed that, pervert. You wanted me to do that so you dreamed it. First you save me, and then you molest me."
"Yeah, right. Okay, so you're obviously not scared anymore and don't need to sleep in my bed. See you in the morning."
She didn't move.
"I don't want to go sleep alone," she said in a tiny voice.
"You'd rather sleep with your pervert brother?"
"I didn't mean that. You're not a pervert. I know that."
"Okay, but you have to put on panties."
"Why? Oh, never mind. Okay. I'll put on panties."
******
Did you notice that little "Why?" up above? I had told her she had to put on panties and her first reaction was to question why.
I didn't think about that until much later. I was tired, so it skipped right by me.
I should have noticed it, because it was entirely out of character for a girl in her situation.
But I just went back to sleep. I wasn't horny anymore so I had no problem dropping off.
******
I got back to sleep but then, some time later I woke up again.
Her hand was in my boxers. She was gripping my package. She wasn't rubbing it or moving it around. She just had my balls and dick in her hand. My dick was soft, and when it's soft it's like two inches long, so even though she had a small hand, she could cover everything.
"Oz?" I said.
Nothing.
"Oz!" I said, louder.
"Huh?" She jerked like she was just coming awake. Her hand squeezed - not hard thank goodness - and then she jerked it out.
"Why'd you put my hand there?" she asked.
"Don't even try it," I said. "I woke up and you were groping me."
"I was not."
"You felt it when you woke up! You jerked your hand out of there!"
"I didn't put it there," she whined.
I sat up. I had no fucking idea what was going on, but whatever it was, it freaked me out a little. I got out of bed.
"Where are you going?" she whined.
"Nowhere. I'm gonna get a blanket and sleep on the floor."
"Why?" Now she sat up.
"Because weird shit is going on and we both need sleep. Don't worry, I'll be right here. Just go back to sleep."
"Bobby!" she yipped. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again. I promise."
"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Just go back to sleep."
I got my extra blanket and pulled my pillow off the bed. I wrapped up in the blanket and laid on the floor. The floor was hard, but I got to sleep anyway.
******
When I woke up it was nine-thirty. The bed was empty, so I got dressed and went looking for Oz. She was in the kitchen, doing something at the counter. She was still dressed in just the T shirt and whatever she'd put on under it. We'd talked about this before. The house had three bedrooms and we could have gotten another roommate to help with the rent, except my sister ran around in next to nothing all the time. She said, "Get a girl roommate and it won't matter." That was all I needed. Two women to live with? I don't think so.
I ignored her and got the box of Fruity Pebbles from the cupboard. I poured a bowl and got the milk. Oz was standing in front of the silverware drawer so I asked her to move.
I could see she was working with some kind of dough, rolling it thin.
"What are you doing?" I asked, taking a bite of my cereal.
"I'm making a pie," she said.
"You know how to make pies?" I sounded skeptical.
"Of course I do. Mom taught me."
"What kind of pie?"
"I don't know yet. I have to go to the store to get the filling."
"How hard did that guy hit you last night?" I asked. "You're acting like you might have a concussion."
She turned to face me. The bruise on her left cheek had bloomed overnight. It was roughly the shape of a hand and was a livid, sickly color of black, mixed with purple.
"Shit, Oz," I said. I reached to touch and she flinched. "You need to put ice on that."
"We don't have any ice, asshole," she said.
She was right. The fridge had a freezer, but we hadn't filled the ice cube trays. I did that, now, but it wouldn't help her at that moment.
"You might need to go to the clinic and let them look at that," I said.
"I don't need to go anywhere except to the store so I can get something to put in this pie," she said.
I thought about how some women got PTSD after being raped and acted strange. Suddenly, I got worried about my little sister.
"We can go to the store later. Right now I think we need to talk."
"We don't need to talk. I'm sorry I groped you and rubbed off against you. I won't do it again."
The way she said it made it clear that her protestations of innocence, the night before, had been bullshit. She'd done all that on purpose. I decided not to rub that in her face, but I didn't just let it drop, either.
"What I don't understand is how you could even want to do that after what happened to you."
"You mean that shithead who tried to rape me?"
"Well, yeah. Maybe you need to go talk to somebody. A counselor maybe. You were really scared, Oz."
"I was scared, until you came in and stopped him. I couldn't believe he was forcing me. I bit him and that's when he hit me. But then you were there and taking care of me and all I wanted to do was get somewhere safe for both of us."
"Both of us?"
"That guy looked dead when you got finished with him. I was afraid you'd get arrested and thrown in jail and then I'd be all alone and I don't want that, Bobby. I don't want to be alone."
"Come on. You have friends, tons of them. You'll never be alone."
"I can't sleep with my friends, Bobby." She swallowed and looked at her flour-covered hands. "But I can sleep with you. Or could. I meant it when I said I was sorry. I had what I wanted and then I screwed it all up."
"You're not making any sense at all, Oz," I said. "You need to get dressed. I'll take you to the clinic and see if they can get you some help."
"I don't need their help!" she barked. "I got all the help I needed from you. You saved me. You got me out of there and to safety. I'm fine! It's only a bruise. It will fade with time."
"Baby," I groaned. "You might not realize it, but you're ranting. You're saying crazy things. I'm worried about you!"
"You are such an idiot," she said, looking right at me.
"See? That's what I mean!" I said. "You're talking nuts!"
"You are such a dimwitted blockhead I can't believe I made Daddy let me come live with you!" she yipped.
That sentence, out of context, was just as mystifying as some other things she'd said. This time, though, I tried to find some context.
"Wait. You said you made him let you come live with me? What does that mean?"
"I got full ride scholarship offers from three universities. I could have gone to any of them. But I wanted to go where you were. So that's what I told Mom and Dad. I told them I could be there to watch over you and make sure you didn't mess up again. That's why I'm here." She blinked. "That's one reason I'm here."
"No, no, no. Wait. You've got it wrong. Dad said I had to watch over you, and make sure you didn't get in trouble."
"Of course he'd say that. You're the big brother. Big brothers are supposed to look out for little sisters."
"I've been trying to do that," I groaned. "But you won't let me! You even blackmailed me, for Pete's sake. You threatened to tattle on me to Dad. I told you not to skip classes. I told you not to drink. I told you not to go to that fucking frat party but you won't listen to anything I say!"
"That's because all this is way more complicated than I thought it would be," she said. "Nothing has worked out like I thought it would."
"It's college!" I groaned. "It's supposed to be all new and different. Part of the experience is learning how to discipline yourself. You have to do some things that are less than fun and you have to learn to curb your urges so you don't start down the wrong path."
"That's the problem," she moaned. "I'm having a hard time curbing my urges."
"Well you have to start," I said.
"I would never have really tattled to Dad," she said. "If I'd have done that he'd disown you and stop paying for your college. And then I'd be alone. I told you I don't want to be alone. I didn't come here to be alone. I came here to be with you."
"Well that's another thing to chalk up to your concussion. Why would you want to be with me? You hate me!"
"I do not hate you," she said, casually. "I love you. I always have."
"You could have fooled me," I said. "In fact, you did fool me. You got me in trouble endlessly."
"You got yourself in trouble endlessly," she said. "All I did was try to make sure you settled down and didn't get thrown in jail."
"You mean that's what Dad tried to do," I said.
"Well, yes, he did things, but most of them were because I asked him to. He was ready to let you get taken off and thrown into juvie. But I know some people who got sent to juvie and I heard stories. If you'd gone there all you would have done was learn how to get in even deeper trouble. So I asked Daddy to give you more chances and I told him if you went to college it would calm you down."
"You're lying," I said, without any conviction. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I love you, you ignoramus! I had to act like a bratty sister in high school. That's what everybody expected. I had to fit in, and not just at school. I had to fit in at home, too. Otherwise they'd never have let me come live with you."
"Okay, this is what's confusing me. I don't get why you wanted to come live with me. You never acted like you gave a shit about me until now. This is very strange."
"It is, and please don't freak out. I'm gonna tell you something but you have to promise not to go bonkers, okay?"
"Things are crazy already," I said. "Sure. Fire away. I promise not to lose my shit."
"Okay," she said. "See, ever since I was, like ten, I thought you were the coolest guy I knew. You kept getting in trouble, but it was the kind of trouble I understood. Like that time your friend, Jessica, turned her ankle and couldn't walk and it was almost dark, and you gave her a ride on Dad's scooter even though you didn't have a license, yet. That was so cool. It was just like last night when you were my knight in shining armor."
"The cops caught me that night," I said. "They put the scooter in the impound lot and brought me home. Dad was furious," I said.
"I know, but I thought you were a hero. Almost every time you got in trouble it was something silly or brave. I knew Dad lowered the boom on you all the time because he didn't want your shenanigans to reflect on him, especially at reelection time. But he was harder on you than other dads were on their kids and you took it like a man. I adored you. I knew that when I got old enough, I'd want to date a guy like you."
"You never showed that," I said.
"I couldn't. If they'd known how I feel about you they'd never have sent me to live with you."
"Okay, you lost me again," I said. "So you love me. Brothers and sisters are supposed to love each other."
"You're not the pervert in the family," she said. She looked me dead in the eyes. "I am."
"Okay, it's definitely concussion treatment time again," I said.
"I rubbed against you and put my hand in your shorts on purpose," she blurted. Suddenly her voice sounded breathy.
Chapter Two
"What?" I blinked. I had just heard my sister admit she masturbated on my leg and groped me on purpose.
"When I say I love you, I mean I'm in love with you," she said. "I've been in love with you since the first date I went on."
"Oz, Honey, you're talking crazy again," I moaned.
"No, I'm not. I know I shouldn't feel this way. I've always known it, but I couldn't help it. I knew if I ever showed it, they'd send me to a convent or somewhere, so I hid it. Then, last night, I felt so relieved that you got me away from that guy, that everything just bubbled up inside me until I couldn't control it. I know you'll think I'm some kind of degenerate, but please don't kick me out or tell Mom and Dad. I promise to try to work on it. I'll even go to counseling, except I'm afraid they'll tell the police. I mean they might have to, by law, or something. And the last thing I want anybody to think is that you molested me."
"Well, thank you for that ... I guess," I said. My mind was whirling. It was like I'd gone to sleep in dimension Alpha and woke up in dimension Bravo. The whole world was different. Well, my house was different. I hadn't gone outside yet.
"Do you hate me?" she asked in a high, innocent voice.
"No," I said. "I don't hate you."
"Do you think I'm a degenerate?"
"Let's not back anybody into a corner," I said, thinking briefly on how I had "appreciated" my sister's naked body in that bathtub. "I need some time to think about all this."
"I'd say you can do that while I go to the store to get some pie filling, except I'm afraid you'll have changed the locks before I get back," she said.
"I'm not going to change the locks," I said. "I don't even know how to do that and the landlord would probably throw us out if I did." I looked at her. "Why are you making a pie at a time like this, anyway?" I asked.
"Baking helps calm me," she said. "And I hoped I could bribe you not to throw me out if I baked you a pie."
"You were going to try to bribe me with a pie?"
"Yeah," she sighed, looking down at the floor.
"Get dressed," I said. "We'll go to the store together."
"Thank you," she said.
I held up my hand.
"No chatter. You're not to say anything until I tell you to. I need to think. It's not easy to think right now and your babbling would make it even harder."
She mimed zipping her mouth.
She put the pie crust in the fridge and went to her room. She emerged wearing skinny jeans and a peasant top that was off her shoulders. It was obvious she didn't have on a bra, even before I saw the dents of her nipples through the shirt.