A Sister's Blackmail 2

by Iggy

(c) 2008

Thanks, folks, for all the wonderful mail you sent.  And special thanks to Shelley...you know who you are.

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       So there I was--topless, pantiless, bent at the waist because my nipples were chained and locked to my sister's locker.  The bell rang, and I heard the girls filing out.  There was no chance that they would see me, hidden near the back amid the maze of lockers.  I had to admit, being forced into this position turned me on, just like the handcuffs had.  I couldn't help but sneak my hand down and touch my clit...but even in this barren locker room I was afraid that someone would see me if I lingered too long.  My juices were starting to tickle my legs, and that's when I knew I had to think of something else.  I had no panties.  What if someone noticed my wetness?

       I heard the next class come in.  For a moment I was scared to death, but thankfully their lockers were far off too.  I held stone still.  As they wandered into the gym and left me alone again, I wondered what the hell I was thinking, letting my sister do this to me.  God, the pictures.  Mom would flip.  But I just know she'd pass them around the school, and that would be WAY worse.  And now she has the pictures of me in the bathroom...not to mention, these damned locks on my nipples.  The chain I could probably cut with the right tool and some time, but the locks?  I couldn't see how I'd get those off safely.

       It all just happened so fast.  And I had to wonder, how much of me LIKED it?  It was so embarrassing, taking my bra off, showing Joey just how small my breasts are...that I have to stuff my bra.  So humiliating, being held here by the constant pulling in my nipples.  And yet...why was I so turned on?

       Ten minutes passed since the last of the girls walked out to the gym, leaving me to wonder just how long I'd be here.  But then I heard footsteps, multiple sets of them.  They seemed to be approaching!  My face was hot with embarassment, but I still looked up as they approached the corner.

       Trish laughed when she saw me.  "Well, well.  So Mandy did leave me a present.  Wasn't that sweet of her?"

       Joey was with her, and Angie.  And I was...I was...I covered my chest with my hands.

       She grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me back.

       "Ow, ow!" My nipples were straining against the chain.  I tried to pull her hands off...which had the effect of making me uncover my breasts.

       Angie gasped and then laughed.  “Your sister does stuff her bra!"

       "And the nipple locks too!” Joey put in.

       Well Joey, you've met.  As for Angie, as far as I could ever figure, she wasn't so much Trisha's friend as her underling.  They have the same interests--that is, if cruelty could be called an "interest".  I have to imagine that Hitler had lots of friends like Angie, and for much the same reasons.

       “Yeah, I don’t let her wear a bra anymore,” Trish was saying. “I figure, what’s the point?  I mean, look at them--they're so little!”

       I blushed and covered back up.  "You've had your fun.  Will you please let me go now?"

       "Let you go?  Hmmm," she said, acting as though the thought hadn't occurred to her.  "Let you go.  Well, if I let you go, what are you going to do for me?"

       The silence hung for a moment.  "What do you mean?"

       "Well, if I do this for you, what will you give me?  Hmmm.  How about...your panties?"

       "I...I don't have any."

       She raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise.

       "Mandy took them."

       "No way!"

       I felt my skirt rising up.  "Hey!"  She had it up before I could defend myself.  I felt cool air on my ass, but only for a second before I pulled it back down.  She was laughing quite a lot now.  Joey and Angie were trying to act cool, but they were obviously amazed at her treatment of me.

       "You got a problem then, Sarah.  What can you do for me?  Well Sarah?  I'm getting out of here pretty quick, before they hit the showers."

       "I...what do you want?  Please just let me go."

       Trisha thought for a minute and motioned her cronies back with her.  They whispered in a huddle for awhile, punctuated by a few muffled giggles.  Soon Trisha and Joey came back, while Angie seemed to be digging for something in her backpack.

       "Okay," she said, "if you want out of here, you're going to do as I say.  Now, give me your left wrist."  I figured she was going to use the handcuffs, and I wasn't wrong--she had used them more times than me now!  But I was surprised when she didn't close the cuff right away.  Instead she moved my wrist to my right nipple lock and slipped the cuff through the lock!  I was really nervous when she did my other wrist the same way.  My wrists were effectively locked to my nipples, almost like a straight jacket.

       She unlocked the chain from the locker and had me lay down on the long wooden bench bolted to the floor in the middle of the aisle.  By now, Angie found what she had been hunting for.  She held up a razor and can of shaving cream, and also a pair of scissors.  Trish saw my confusion and smiled.

       "Your price for getting out of here is your pubic hair!"

       I can't tell you how humiliating the next part was.  First cutting my sparse bush down to stubs, then shaving all the hair off.  Several times I instinctively moved my hand down to stop her, and every time I ended up wincing in pain from the pull on my nipple.  They laughed and joked that I WANTED it, and look how wet you are!  And as I realized how much like a little girl this would make me look, I became even wetter.

       Then they finished it off with something even meaner.  Up till now, Joey and Angie had been on the sidelines.  They wanted to get in on the action.  Angie sat on my stomach, and Joey played with my now bald pussy.  He kept rubbing my clit, while Angie laughed and pulled at my hands.  She fingered the locks.

       "My my, what would you do if Trisha lost the key?  Go to the locksmith?  Ha!  If I were her I'd make you wear them permanently."  And when I was about to cum...they just stopped.  There they were, practically raping me, and I was nearly in tears because they stopped.  What was the matter with me?  But God, I needed it so bad!  And when they got off of me, before I could get up, Trish had (you guessed it) snapped some more pictures.  Shaved pussy, wrists locked to my nipples...every time I think she couldn't get a worse picture, she figures it out.

       They finally allowed me to dress (and oh God, what if somebody sees up my skirt?).  The actual leaving was anticlimactic, except for her parting words:

       "Oh, and you better not touch yourself, you horny little slut.  If you do, I'll find out, and it'll get even worse for you.  And remember, it's not just the pictures anymore, is it?  Poor nipples"--she tugged the chain through my shirt--"just can't get away from those nasty little locks."

       *        *        *

       It seemed like every class was up the stairs or down the stairs.  There was always some asshole right below me, looking up.  I met Joey in the halls once.  The jerk brushed past so that his arm rubbed hard on both my nipple locks.  He caught my eye and smirked, and kept walking.

       Class was no better.  I had to sit on my naked ass to keep from leaving a wet spot on the skirt.  Guys seemed extraordinarily klutzy, dropping books and pencils in class, bumping into me in the halls and knocking notebooks out of my hand, knowing I'd have to bend down to pick it up.  Even bending properly, I felt naked--my pussy was so sensitive now. 

       I couldn't concentrate.  Between the stares and my newly shaven pussy, I was so horny.  I didn't dare cum.  It seemed like she had eyes everywhere, her friends watching me like some sort of perverted CIA.  With every step I took the locks pulled in just the right way.  I even found myself pushing my chest out until one I saw one of my classmates giggle and whisper to a friend of hers, who looked at my chest and also giggled.  Even with the overshirt, I had to be careful.

       Finally I was home.  I walked to the door and bolted straight up the steps before my mom could see me.  I was so horny I could barely stand it.  I pulled my shirts off and stood in front of my full-body mirror.  Humiliation coursed through me as I stared at the nipple locks, with the chain swaying between.  My fingers searched for some way of removing them, my face turning red as I was reminded that only Trisha could remove them.  I had to get off, and soon.  But one thing first.  I had one more pair of handcuffs (part of a little set of toys I managed to get ahold of), and hopefully Trish hadn't taken both.

       I walked to my closet and pulled out a very special box, well hidden by all the usual junk teenagers keep in closets--old board games, clothes or toys we've outgrown but can't bear to part with, whatever.  The box wasn't empty!  Without even looking, I reached inside and grabbed the handcuffs.  With a few clicks, my hands were locked firmly behind my back.  I walked back to the mirror.  I pulled vainly on the handcuffs, knowing it was pointless, reliving Mandy locking my nipples to the locker while I could do nothing.  I raised up my skirt to inspect my shaven pubes, imagining that some guy had gotten a good look up my skirt while I was in some compromising position.

       I was ready.  I walked back over to the box and looked in, realizing to my horror that it really was empty this time.  The key was gone!  Was it Trisha?  Or was the key just lost somewhere?  I tried looking in the closet, but with my hands behind my back it was nearly impossible.  I heard the door open and looked up to see Trisha's ever-smiling face.  She took one look at me and starting giggling.

       "You little slut!" she said between fits, holding up my key.  "I told you not to touch yourself.  Look how hard your nipples are!  You were going to, weren't you?"

       I was stunned.  A sudden thrill went through me as I realized that I really was locked into the handcuffs now.  Before I could say or do anything, she grabbed my chain and started walking backward.  I had no choice but to follow.

       "What are you doing?  Let me go!" I pleaded.  "I did everything you asked me to."

       "Not quite.  I told you, no cumming.  You look like a total slut--nipple chain, pussy dripping.  Mom's really going to let you have it, now."

       I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking she's the one who's going to get it for doing all this to me.  Well, you're wrong.  Mom has always been horrible to me.  I think she must be disappointed that I was never as outgoing or forceful as Trisha.  It didn't help that Trisha has her convinced that I'm some sort of criminal.  Every time she does something, she always blames me.  And of course, mom believes her.  For awhile, mom went through a "tough love" phase with me, but now I think she gave up and decided she likes punishing me.  She'd use this as an excuse to do something really awful.

       When we got downstairs, mom looked our way, and her jaw dropped.  Her eyes took in my short skirt and especially my nipple locks, and then the handcuffs.  I tried to pull away, but my sister held the "reins" firmly.

       "Explain," she said simply, quietly.  I was afraid of her, to tell you the truth, and these were the moments I feared her the most.

       "She's a slut," Trisha told her.  "I caught her in her room just like this.  Look at what she did to her nipples!"

       "I did not!" I yelled without thinking.

       Mom raised her eyebrows.  "No?  Then who?"

       "Trisha!"

       Her eyes flashed fire.  "Imagine, blaming your sister for such a thing!  If I hear another word of that, you'll be in more trouble than you can imagine.  You apologize right now, young lady."

       What could I do?  Trisha was really playing up the part of the hurt sister, looking all devastated.  "I...I'm...I'm sorry."

       "Hm.  I don't think you meant it, but I guess I'm not surprised."  She eyed my breasts more closely.  I tried to cover them reflexively, but the handcuffs held my wrists behind me.  I felt so naked.  "You've been stuffing your bras, too, I see.  Well, as you can't even use a bra responsibly, you won't be wearing one anymore."

       "Mom!"

       "No!  No bras.  Not until you need one, anyway.  And that's my final word."  This was getting worse and worse.  If only she told me to wear a bra, then Trisha couldn't have argued the point.

       "Give me the keys," she said, and held out her hand.

       "Here.  They were both laying on the floor," Trisha lied easily.  Two keys!  But that must mean...

       "This one is for your nipples, I suppose.  I can't believe you got your nipples pierced.  I'm so disappointed in you.  Well, you're not taking them off, now.  You can just show them off to all your friends."

       Trish spoke up once more.  "And she was...well, she was...touching herself, when I walked in."  She said it with just the right amount of embarassment.

       Her mother just sighed.  "Thank you sweetie, but I thought as much."  She lifted my skirt and shook her head.  This frightened me most of all, because I could tell her gears were grinding.

       "I suppose there's only one way to keep you from becoming a slut.  My own mother had to have it done to my sister back in the day.  Oh, she didn't like it at first, but she was better off for it.  I'll unlock your handcuffs.  You get some clothes on.  No bra, mind you.  We're going out."

       *        *        *

       Hours later, I was in my room again, staring into my mirror.  Things were spinning out of control so fast.  Did mom really think I was a slut?  Or did she put this...this thing on me out of pure spite?

       I stared down at my clit.  My very CAPTIVE clit.  She took me to a "family friend"--what the hell kind of family has friends like that?  I'm starting to think there's more to her than I know.  My clit was now covered with what looked almost like a little golden thimble, with a D ring on the end.  I wiggled it back and forth to see how much sensation I could get out of it.  Not near enough, it turns out.  And damn if it doesn't turn me on, just like the nipple locks.

       I was worried about tomorrow.  Mom laid out the clothes I was supposed to wear.  A deep blue, low cut satin blouse, a short black skirt, socks, and shoes.  No bra.  And for my added torture, no panties for a week.  I put them on to see how I'd look, which is why I was standing at the mirror again.  My braless state couldn't be more clear--the padlocks made it obvious I was hiding SOMEthing under my shirt.  With my skirt raised up, I could see the glint of gold between my legs.  It could almost have been jewelry.  It was actually quite pretty.  Trisha opened the door (there was no lock) and I dropped my skirt quickly.

       "I can't believe what she did to you!" Trisha said excitedly.  "Let's see it!"

       I shook my head.  "You told her.  Why should I do what you tell me to now?"

       "Well, there's always the pictures, of course," she said thoughtfully.  "But I think maybe I can give you a better reason than that.  I'll bet everyone would just love to know how Sarah Warner had to have her clit blocked to keep her from becoming a slut!"

       "I don't care," I lied.

       "Oh, you will. And don't forget, I DO have the pictures.  Here, take this."

       I felt a twinge of fear as I looked at the blue tablet.  I had been so horny all day, and now, I couldn't even touch my own clit.  Sighing, I swallowed the damned thing.  She grabbed my nipple chain through the blouse and pulled me over to the bed.  I didn't resist when she pushed me down on it.  How could I?  I was still in shock over what had happened just an hour before.  She pulled my skirt up, looking more interested in me (or a part of me) than at any time I can remember.

       She flicked my new clit cover.  "You really can't feel anything down there?"  I shook my head.

       An evil smile crossed her lips.  It made me nervous...and horny.  She began tracing her finger around my pussy, bumping my new jewelry every now and then.

       "Poor Sarah.  Look at how hard those nipples are!  I can see them through the shirt.  They're going to be hard for a very long time, aren't they?  I know you love to finger yourself.  I've been waiting for you to slip up, so that I could get some good pictures.  Now look at you.  Do you feel that pill working?  You're squeezing your legs together.  You're not horny already, are you?"

       God, I needed it already.  Her finger was driving me crazy!  Then she stopped.  I moaned and reached down to rub myself, automatically going to my clit from years of experience.  But this time I was met with metal.  I moaned in frustration.  I stuck a finger inside my pussy, and then two.  The other hand reached under my blouse--my nipples were hard as rocks.  Soon my fingers were going full speed.  I forgot Trisha was even there.  Several long minutes of uncontrolled horniness went by.  The clit blocker worked all too well, despite my prodding and pulling fingers.  Finally I gave in, hitting the bed with my fists, panting.

       Surprisingly, when I looked up, Trisha looked a little flushed.  Was she really getting off on my helpless frustration?  "Is this what you want to do?" she taunted.  Her finger was under her own dress, rubbing her clit.  She moved faster and faster, and soon she came with a moan.  And then she smiled at me.  That bitchy smile.

       "Awwww.  And no relief for you."  She cast one last smile at me as she got up and left the room.  I lay there, panting and horny.  I couldn't help myself.  When I was sure she was gone, I stripped my clothes off and lay back on the bed.  I pulled at the clit blocker again and again, trying desparately to find some way around it, some way to get off.  Useless.  More pounding fists on the bed.  More rubbing my stiff, aching nipples.  Only as I began to drift off did I think about what she said.  My nipples would be hard for a long time, she said...just how long is that?

To be continued...