For several minutes, we lie together in silence, broken only by our labored breathing.
Suddenly, hot tears splash against my chest. Kayla's whole body begins to shake, not with pleasure, but with violent sobs that wrack her athletic frame.
"I'm sorry," she chokes out, her voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry, Travis. Oh god, I'm sorry."
"Kayla, stop," I whisper, confused by her tears. "Why are you apologizing? This is everything I've wanted."
She shakes her head violently, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her body still connected to mine, I can feel her tightness encasing me, our bodies joined intimately even as she breaks down.
"I'm a monster," she sobs, refusing to meet my eyes. "I just raped my little brother. I tied you up and forced myself on you."
I tug at my restraints, desperate to hold her, to wipe away those tears. The makeshift bonds of her bolero jacket hold firm against my wrists, keeping me helplessly pinned beneath her.
"Untie me," I plead, my voice gentle despite my frustration. "Let me hold you, Kayla. I need to touch you."
"No," she whispers, still avoiding my gaze. "If I untie you, you'll run. You should run. You should hate me for what I just did."
I feel her body trembling above mine, her inner walls still gripping me tightly. Despite her tears, I'm still inside her, our connection unbroken. Warmth trickles between our joined bodies as my cum begins to seep from her.
"I could never hate you," I insist, my voice steady and certain. "This is what I've been trying to tell you. What I've been showing you in every way I know how."
Her sobs intensify, her entire body shaking with the force of her guilt. "I'm supposed to protect you," she chokes out. "Not use you like this. Not tie you down and…"
She cuts herself off, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. I can feel her shifting, perhaps intending to move away, but then something unexpected happens. My body, still sensitive from our first encounter, begins to respond again. I feel myself hardening inside her, filling her once more.
"Kayla, please," I whisper, trying to ignore my growing hardness inside her. "I just want to comfort you."
Without warning, Kayla begins to move again, bouncing slowly on my cock while sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'm such a bad sister," she cries, her hips working mechanically as tears stream down her face. "What kind of beast does this to her own brother?"
Her movements are desperate, almost punishing, as she rides me with increasing intensity. Each downward thrust is punctuated by another self-loathing confession.
"I should be helping you grow," she gasps, her pace quickening despite her emotional breakdown. "Instead, I'm no better than the girls I fear you'll end up with."
My wrists strain against the bolero jacket, binding me to the headboard. The friction sends waves of pleasure through my body, but seeing her like this, using sex as self-punishment while she cries, makes my heart ache far more than my restraints.
"Kayla, I love this," I insist, my voice breaking as she grinds down particularly hard. "I love you. Please believe me."
I whimper softly as her inner walls clench around me, squeezing my cock with deliberate pressure. Despite her tears, she leans down and plants a desperate kiss on my lips, her salt-stained mouth moving hungrily against mine.
"You did this to me," she whispers against my lips, her voice breaking. "You've been tempting me for years, Travis. Walking around half-dressed, staring at me with those innocent green eyes." Her hips continue their relentless rhythm as she speaks. "You knew exactly what you were doing to me."
Her tears fall onto my face, mingling with our kiss as she continues riding me. "The way you look at me... like I'm everything. No sister could resist that." She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, her expression a heartbreaking mixture of desire and guilt. "You've been seducing me for longer than I can remember. Deliberately breaking me down."
"Yes," I agree eagerly, relieved she's finding a way to process this. "I wanted this. I've always wanted this."
"The things you say," she continues, her movements growing more desperate. "The way you touch me when you think it's innocent. Nothing about you is innocent, Travis." Her voice catches on a sob.
Her eyes suddenly widen, pupils dilating with a new emotion, not self-loathing, but righteous anger. She reaches forward, her strong hands wrapping around my throat with loving gentleness despite the firmness of her grip.
"This is your fault," she says, voice dropping to a whisper as her fingers tighten just enough to make my pulse throb against her palms. "You did this to us."
The pressure increases gradually, carefully calculated to restrict without harming. My airway narrows just enough to make each breath a conscious effort, a blissful lightheadedness beginning to bloom behind my eyes.
"Look what you've made me become," she continues, her thumbs pressing into the hollow of my throat while her eyes bore into mine with fierce devotion. "I tried so hard to be good, to be the sister you deserved."
Her hips begin moving faster, the rhythm growing punishing as she maintains that perfect, controlled pressure against my windpipe. Each bounce drives me deeper inside her, the wet heat of her enveloping me completely.
"Every time you walked around shirtless," she pants, briefly increasing the pressure on my throat before easing back.
I gasp for air when she loosens her grip slightly, the rush of oxygen making the pleasure between my legs intensify tenfold.
"You knew exactly what you were doing," she accuses, voice trembling with emotion even as her movements grow more confident. "Wearing those tight clothes, brushing against me, asking me to hold your hand in public."
'Yup.'
Her fingers flex rhythmically around my throat, applying pressure in perfect time with her bouncing. The care she takes, never pressing too hard, always watching my face for signs of distress, makes the dominance all the more intoxicating.
"I love you so much it's killing me," she confesses, tears still glistening in her eyes, though they've stopped falling. "But this…" she squeezes briefly for emphasis, "This is entirely your doing."
My vision begins to spot at the edges, pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. I strain against my restraints, desperate to touch her, to hold her, to surrender completely to her control.
"No one else gets to have you," she declares, releasing my throat entirely to grab my face between her palms. "No one else would understand what you need."
The pressure on my windpipe returns as her hands slide back to my throat, her eyes locked on mine with predatory focus.
"Kayla," I rasp through the constriction, my voice barely audible as black spots dance across my vision, "I'm gonna cum."
Her eyes widen at my words, pupils dilating until only thin rings of green remain. The declaration seems to push her over some invisible edge. Her grip tightens fractionally as her rhythm becomes erratic, desperate.
"Inside me," she commands, her voice thick with possession. "Give it all to me, Travis. Everything you have belongs to me."
I arch beneath her, my body convulsing with pleasure. Her inner walls clench around me, milking every drop as I explode inside her for the second time. The combination of oxygen deprivation and orgasm sends me spiraling into a euphoria I've never experienced before, my consciousness narrowing to a pinpoint of pure sensation.
As I begin to drift from lack of air, she releases my throat completely. Air floods back into my lungs in a rush that makes me dizzy, intensifying the aftershocks rippling through my body.
"Mine," she whispers, collapsing against my chest, her ear pressed against my thundering heartbeat. "All mine."
We lie together in silence for several minutes, our breathing gradually synchronizing as our bodies cool. My wrists ache from straining against their bonds, but I wouldn't change a thing about this moment.
Eventually, Kayla lifts her head, her expression soft yet troubled as she studies my face. With gentle fingers, she traces the faint marks beginning to form on my neck, her touch feather-light against the tender skin.
"God, Travis, did I hurt you?" Kayla whispers, her fingers working quickly to untie the makeshift restraints. The bolero jacket falls away, revealing red marks circling my wrists. She rubs them gently, her expression a mask of concern.
"No," I say instantly, sitting up as soon as I'm free. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her tightly against me. "Not at all."
She buries her face in my neck, inhaling deeply like she's trying to memorize my scent. Her body trembles slightly in my embrace, muscles tense as though she's fighting some internal battle.
"I'm done holding back, Travis," she whispers against my skin, her lips brushing my ear.
A flutter of excitement ripples through me. But after everything that's happened, I need to be absolutely clear about where we stand.
"So you're like my girlfriend then, right?" I ask, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes.
Kayla freezes, her body going rigid against mine. For a terrifying second, I think I've pushed too far too fast. Then, a slow smile spreads across her face, transforming her features into something predatory and possessive.
"Girlfriend? That's cute," she repeats, her voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes my skin tingle. Her fingers trail up my chest to grasp my chin, tilting my face toward hers. "That's such an inadequate word for what I am to you."
Her grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to establish control.
"I'm your protector," she says, eyes burning into mine. "Your caretaker. Your sister." She leans in, her lips brushing against mine as she whispers, "Your owner."
My heart hammers against my ribs, each word sending electricity racing down my spine.
"But yes," she continues, her other hand sliding possessively down my back to rest at the base of my spine. "If you need a simple label that tells other women to back the fuck off, then girlfriend works just fine."
"Based."