Rising at the Crack of…

Michael came awake gradually feeling confined and fairly restricted, face smothered by soft yet firm warm skin molding itself around him and understanding at once he was pinned against the outer lips of a vagina. Whose? He couldn’t be certain, but the subtle difference in taste and scent told him it was one he had not yet previously encountered. The simple process of deduction suggested to him it must be Madison’s pussy and he recoiled slightly at the notion his sister was using him as a human panty shield. He tried to flinch and struggle but was far too weak and his effort exhausted as quickly as his resolve.

Despite having just awoken, he could not recall a time in his life when he felt wearier. Confined as he was, he took a moment to gather his senses. He ached everywhere, his skin feeling positively aflame. Even the heat from of the flesh holding him felt like an all over sunburn. Letting out a breath, he came to the conclusion that obviously he was facing the pussy, feet toward the ground and arms down at his sides. Judging by the change in pressure holding him tight, he guessed the owner of the vagina was moving or walking. Using the term owner mentally because he refused to think of the pussy in terms of it possibly belonging to Maddie. Had she used him after he passed out? Pleasured herself at his expense like each of the others? He didn’t know and wasn’t sure he wanted to consider the possibility.

Pushing back against the stretchy fabric, he turned his head to the left, feeling the sheer fabric graze against his tender cheek. Trying to synchronize his movement with the motion of her stride, he slid his left arm up, bringing his hand near his face. How long was I out he wondered with no possible way to gauge time, other than to make a guess based on the coarse texture of what seemed to be newly emerging pubic hair bristles he felt in the nearby flesh when he moved his hand up. Wiggling the fingers of his left hand, they didn’t feel particularly sticky. He presumed prior to his current predicament he had been cleaned, though he had no means of knowing how, when, or by whom. It was impossible to hear anything other than vague muffled sounds over the natural noises her body was making.

With little else to do but think, questions pummeled his conscious mind. Was it still night or was it day time? How long had he been here? There was no light, only the omnipresent warmth of his enfolding entrapment. Maybe after the girls had had their fun, Madison had made the call and for all he knew they were on their way to Lucie’s right now. He snorted, knowing such thoughts were simply deluding himself and nothing more than wishful thinking, but it did beg the question, if she was walking where were they going? And why cart him around trapped inside panties? Was it to teach him humility? If so, then it worked. He firmly believed he recognized the error of his ways and knew what a crappy brother he had been. If she would let him out, let him explain to her that he wanted to be not just a better sibling, but a more responsible person, then maybe she would relent and call Lucie to help him get restored to himself. If only.

Shifting his arm again, the motion stopped. Are we there? There was a powerful force applying pressure externally, hard against the back of his head and upper body as he was ground into the pliable tissue of the vagina, like whomever it was giving herself a teaser, or giving him a reminder of the hierarchy of control. Her first, him not.

She stopped moving, but the constraining force holding seemed to intensify and he made the assumption the change in pressure was due to her sitting down, snugging in the fabric around him. Again he experienced the external pressure from without as he was mashed against his velvety prison wall as whomever his captor was pushed on him and shifted her hips slightly. It suddenly felt like his whole environment was getting hotter and he quickly understood why, whoever she was, she was getting turned on. Wedged as he was, it seemed like as her privates engorged with blood and parted slightly, he was being drawn into the groove. It certainly didn’t help that the tissue around him also seemed to be getting dewy and moist with developing excitement and her musky scent filled his nostrils as he felt her getting wetter and more aroused. He thought about trying to forestall her excitement by biting down on the flesh near his mouth, but quickly dismissed the idea, figuring the last thing he might want to do was antagonize the owner of the vagina.

Not again, he lamented, it was too soon, he was so bone tired and ill prepared to another bout of being used to deliver pleasure. When she removed her hand, he breathed a silent thanks and did everything in his power to try and remains as still as possible and to not do anything which might be construed as contributory to heightening the level of arousal his captor was obviously experiencing. He could felt her clear pre-come lubricating dampening his thighs, his waist. Inundated by such heady pheromones, his own flesh betrayed his will and responded, growing turgid. Closing his eyes didn’t help.

Would Madison actually do that to him? Use him the way the others had? Could she? He knew he shouldn’t have tried to vex her. Would it have been different if he had just come directly to her instead of peeping on her and her friends? The answer was moot, he hadn’t and he had gotten caught with his hands in the veritable cookie jar.

“Madison!” he called out weakly but knew it was to no avail, he was her prisoner, for better or worse, and he was helpless and at the mercy of her whim. If he wasn’t so completely drained, he might have cried.