"Okay," you relent, keeping still in hopes that your erection will go away. "One month, but you can't tell anybody about the remote. We'll tell them it was an allergic reaction or something. Maybe some kind of accident."
As she climbs off of your reduced body, Emily says, "Yeah, not important. One month, anything I say, no bitching."
You get to your feet, already regretting this decision, and readjust your boxers. The swelling hasn't gone down much. Whatever this is, this strange excitement coursing through your veins, it can't be healthy. Is this purely due to the physical contact or is there something more to it?
"Come on," Emily says. She grabs you by the hand and guides you up to her bedroom while tapping away at her phone. She better not be breaking her end of the deal already. You've been in the girl's room plenty of times, but it's never seemed so menacing, despite all the stuffed animals and plushies scattered about. Stepping over a pile of dirty clothes, you hear the lock on the door click and turn around.
"Seriously? Is that really necessary?"
"It's not to keep you in, pipsqueak. You already know what'll happen if you break the agreement. We don't need Jenny walking in on us, do we?"
Emily makes herself comfortable in bed, back resting against the headboard with her legs stretched out, then she snaps her fingers at you and points to her feet. A foot rub? Not exactly a twisted and depraved demand. You hoist yourself up onto the bed and get to work on her surprisingly smooth soles. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can get in touch with your dad.
"You know," your stepsister begins, looking entirely too pleased, "this isn't going to be all that bad. It could be worse. At least your master is hot, right?"
There's no good answer. After ten minutes of digging your thumbs into the bottoms of her feet, caressing her stubby toes, Emily suggests that you move up to her slender calves. She lifts those smooth legs so you can scoot over, then drops them onto your lap. She lifts them again a few minutes later so you can shift over some more. There's no use hiding your aching erection when it returns, harder than ever. Instead of teasing you with her words, Emily wiggles her lower body so that your dick is trapped, pinned between her warm, meaty thighs. She flexes.
"Poor little thing. It's never been touched, has it?"
"That's not true," you tell her, wincing at the choice of adjective. Sure, you're not hung like a Shetland pony, but the last time you measured yourself it was a little over five inches, which is about average. It can't be that much smaller now, can it?
"I know you and Haley haven't done it."
Lifting your ass slightly, you remind her about Sally Newman. "We fooled around all the time."
"Oh God, I forgot about her," Emily laughs. "Sally freaking Newman, built like a stick insect. Can't imagine which one of you was more disappointed in that pairing. Probably her."
"She was pretty. Prettier than you."
The thighs enveloping your dick go soft. "You think so, huh?" Your stepsister swings her legs off of your lap and nods her head. "Here I was, trying to be nice to you. So much for that."
"Hey, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, Em."
"Master," the girl corrects you in a serious tone. "You refer to me as Master from now on, do you understand me?"
It sounds so silly, yet you know that she isn't joking. So much for the massage. If only you had kept your mouth shut. Then again, all those years of bickering have conditioned you to snap back like that, so it's mostly her fault. What else did she expect?
"I'm sorry, Master." That's so hard to say without breaking into a smile. You add, "I was only kidding around."
Emily stands up and glares down at you, looming over you as a solemn reminder of your diminished stature. As punishment for your attitude, she decides that you should...
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