The Rules My Wife Imposed Between My Sister and Me

My sister Noelia and I had been keeping something to ourselves for years, something nobody was supposed to know about. To avoid arousing suspicion, I let her go out with guys, but under one strict condition: no touching. When she came home, I checked for myself in my own way, and she accepted it the same way she accepted everything else, with that docility that turned me on more the more I watched her bend over, spread her legs, and let me inspect her body, her underwear, and the smell of her skin as if she were my property.

Traditional sex had become too tame for us. We started experimenting with ropes, whips, and a collection of toys that kept growing in a locked drawer. I set the pace and she obeyed. It had always been that way since we were kids: I decided, and Noelia followed. I loved watching her bite her lips when I tightened the rope around her wrists, hearing her breathe harder when I slid a finger between her thighs and checked how wet she was, ready for me to use her however I wanted.

Since I liked fuller women, I asked her to put on a few pounds, and she did it without arguing. I also took her for the first time to a private club where these things were practiced. She liked it more than I expected. She loved being tied and marked in front of strangers, loved having her nipples made hard under someone else’s fingers, loved being watched while I spread her legs and showed off her pink cunt, already soaked. And it was there that a couple invited us to their gatherings, where everything got dirtier, more direct, more animal.

At those parties, the women had to crawl and behave like domesticated animals. Most wore collars; some had phrases painted on their skin. Noelia was one of the thinnest women in the room, and I showed her off like a trophy. One night a guy asked me if mine did tricks, and I ordered her to imitate that man’s submissive. Noelia dropped to all fours, lowered her head, and let me touch the back of her neck, her ass, and the wet hollow between her thighs while everyone watched as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

***

Until then I had only let a stranger touch her once, because I caught her looking at him with too much attention. I asked the man if he wanted to go into one of the rooms with her, and he agreed.

I ordered Noelia to give him pleasure with her mouth, and she did it until she gagged, without complaining, like the disciplined submissive I had turned her into. She knelt between his legs, opened her mouth slowly, and took his cock down her throat, her eyes tearing up and her hands gripping his thighs so she wouldn’t lose her balance. He held her hair and set the rhythm, sliding in and out of her wet mouth while she choked a little and kept going, obedient, licking the base, the balls, the dripping tip, until she left him hard and shining. Then he took her from behind, gripping her hips, and I had never heard her come so hard: her ass slapping against his skin, her cunt grinding against his pelvis, her moans coming out broken between each thrust.

—I’m coming! —she shouted, and seconds later the man finished inside her, filling her with hot cum while he kept fucking her until he emptied himself.

I watched from a corner, turned on and proud of how docile she was. That night I knew I could take her even further.

***

Back then I was twenty-three and Noelia was twenty-one. I met Bianca at the anniversary party for some distant relatives; she was the daughter of someone the family knew. I asked her out that very afternoon. Noelia got angry, but I promised her I would never push her aside.

Things with Bianca got serious fast, and she was sharper than I’d thought. She started cracking jokes about whether my sister slept in my bed, about whether Noelia would mind sharing me. I realized she suspected something, so one day I told her everything.

Bianca stayed silent for a long time. Then she said something I hadn’t expected: since Noelia was my sister, deep down she didn’t consider her a rival, and I could keep seeing her as long as it was clear that she, Bianca, came first.

That night I told Noelia while holding her in my arms. Things would stay the same, I said, but now there was a new rule: I would be with both of them, and she would have to accept Bianca above herself. It didn’t take much to convince her; it never did. When she nodded, she lowered her eyes and spread her legs before I even asked, as if understanding the order of things excited her more than arguing about it.

***

The arrangement worked better than expected. On nights I didn’t see Bianca, I spent them with my sister. Noelia wasn’t bothered by what Bianca and I had going on, but Bianca kept asking nonstop what we did when we were alone.

Bianca tried the club once and it wasn’t for her, but she was fascinated by the power it implied. She wanted to understand the game, not participate in it. And little by little, she started wanting it for herself.

A few weeks later she suggested a weekend in the trailer her parents owned on the coast. She asked that Noelia come too. I thought it was to keep up appearances with her parents, but the real plan was different.

We arrived in the afternoon. Bianca decided everything: the big bed was ours, my sister would sleep in the single beds in the adjoining room. After dinner, when Noelia refused to wash the dishes that night, Bianca went to the bedroom, came back with a thin belt, and ordered her to bend over.

Noelia looked at me, silently asking whether she should obey. I nodded. Bianca lashed her lower back with the belt and repeated the order with a calm that surprised me.

—Wash the dishes —she said, and hit her again.

—Yes! I’ll wash them now! —my sister answered.

***

While Noelia scrubbed the dishes, Bianca and I went for a walk. She confessed how worked up she was after punishing her. We found a secluded spot and I took her right there; she unzipped me, pulled my cock out with trembling fingers, and shoved it into her mouth with a hunger I didn’t know she had. She sucked me with anger and with pleasure, taking the tip deep, licking the base, soaking her face with saliva while I held her by the hair and pushed her against my hip. Then I turned her around, lifted her skirt, and opened her ass with two fingers before sinking into her, fast, hard, feeling her whole body tense every time I drove all the way in. From her moans I knew she’d discovered something new in herself: being in charge, punishing, and then fucking until she was breathless turned her on.

The next day she was looking for any excuse to punish Noelia. She made her crawl, checked the marks on her body, and every time she finished with her, I had to take my sister to bed because she was impossible to calm down. Bianca watched, gave orders, and enjoyed herself. That weekend was the beginning of everything.

***

We got married about seven months later. When my parents were no longer around, Noelia moved in with us, but Bianca made her conditions clear from day one. My sister was under her command. I would only be with her when Bianca allowed it. Noelia would use whatever Bianca chose for her, and answer to her in everything.

There weren’t many rules, but they were absolute. And, contrary to what anyone would think, Noelia was happy: she no longer felt alone, and a strange but real friendship grew between her and Bianca. The three of us lived like a single thing, ruled by my wife. Nights could end with Bianca sitting on the bed, Noelia kneeling between her legs, and me behind them, using my hands, tongue, or cock as she commanded, until both women were shining with sweat and saliva.

Some time later Noelia announced that she was pregnant. It was mine, of course, but she decided to terminate it. I suspect Bianca, who couldn’t have children, was already dreaming of taking my sister’s baby for herself by then. That idea would come back later.

***

One afternoon Bianca told me her father had been admitted to the hospital. Nothing serious, but he’d be there for a week. Her mother, Marta, mentioned in passing that the bathroom sink was leaking and the faucets needed replacing. Bianca immediately offered me to fix it.

I went the next day. Marta went into the bathroom to say she was stepping out for a moment; when she turned, her skirt rode up, and from the floor I caught sight of more than I should have. For a woman her age, she had a firm body, legs still hard, well-shaped hips, and I have to admit the thought stuck with me the rest of the morning.

When she came back, she offered me tea. My head was still somewhere else. Marta was attractive in a way I shouldn’t have admitted, and for a few days I couldn’t think about anything else but my mother-in-law, the smell of her skin, the way her nipples outlined themselves under thin clothes.

***

I ended up working there two days in a row. On the second day, I found her in the garage, bent over between the car and the wall, trying to reach something under a bench. She hadn’t heard me come in.

What happened next was fast and not right. I came up behind her and took her before she could expect it. I lifted her skirt, pulled her underwear aside, and opened her with one hand while with the other I pulled down my pants. She tried to wrench free, asking over and over what I was doing, but I didn’t answer until I was done. I pinned her against the wall, shoved my cock into her hard, and fucked her standing up, each thrust deeper, hearing her pant between anger and shock. I felt her getting soaked, felt her legs stop resisting even though she kept protesting, and I came inside her before pulling out and leaving her breathing in ragged bursts.

—I needed this —was the only thing I said when I let her go.

I straightened up, gathered my tools, and told her I’d be back the next day for the faucets. Marta stayed on the floor, silent, not looking at me.

***

That same night at home, Bianca mentioned that her mother had called to say she would be out when I came to finish the bathroom. It was obvious she had cornered her and that she preferred to avoid me. I, on the other hand, was already thinking about how to see her alone again.

The next day I went anyway. Marta told me it would be best to forget what had happened in the garage. I didn’t let her finish the sentence. This time, I also did something I’m not proud of: I took pictures of her, and warned her that if she didn’t do what I asked, those images would go to her daughter and her husband.

Marta started sobbing. She didn’t say anything else, and I left feeling like I owned something that didn’t belong to me. What had begun as an impulse had turned into blackmail, and I could no longer turn back.

***

Around that time, one night, Bianca made another of her decisions: she wanted Noelia to have the baby she couldn’t conceive, raised as her own. My sister didn’t get a say. For a month Bianca controlled what she ate, watched every detail of her cycle, and sent me to her bed at the exact moments. I went into Noelia when Bianca ordered it, opening her patiently and forcefully, and Bianca stayed there watching my sister bite her hand to keep from making a sound.

Eight weeks later, Noelia was pregnant. From then on Bianca stopped looking for me; all her energy went into caring for my sister’s pregnancy. The sex in the house became almost nonexistent, and I, used to the opposite, looked for the easiest and worst escape: going back to Marta.

I met her in the garage, in an old warehouse belonging to a friend, anywhere. At first she answered me with a “no,” but all I had to do was remind her about the photos for her to show up. Each encounter left me with the feeling that I had crossed one more line.

***

Over time I noticed something I hadn’t expected. Marta stopped struggling. One afternoon, in the warehouse, I realized I was no longer holding her by force: she was wrapping her arms around me, responding to the kisses. She didn’t do it with a smile, but she didn’t stay still either, and that had its own kind of kink. I sucked her nipples, slid my fingers between her legs, and she opened her hips wider, breathing hard, as if her body was beginning to betray her before her mind did.

I made her repeat phrases I wrote down on a piece of paper, things she struggled to say. At first she resisted; then, under pressure and something she was starting to truly feel, she said them. One of those afternoons she finally admitted, without the paper, that it had stopped being just obligation.

Later I introduced her to Diego, a big friend of mine, all muscle, who had told me about his fantasy of being with a woman like her. I arranged it without telling Marta what was waiting for her. When she understood the plan, she refused, horrified, but the photo did its work again.

***

Diego didn’t waste any time. And to my surprise, Marta ended up responding to him, lifting her hips, letting herself go in a way she hadn’t shown with me by force. He spread her legs, shoved her against an old mattress, and fucked her with heavy strokes while I watched and moved in close to her face to make her kiss me between moans. Marta started arching, clutching the sheets, making room for Diego with an eagerness that left me dry. When he finished, I took his place, and then he wanted another turn without my having to order anything: she herself settled into position, still trembling, asking for more with her eyes.

When it was over, Marta lay there for a long time and confessed something that shocked her first of all: she had had that fantasy for years. What had started as abuse on my part had become tangled with a desire of her own that she didn’t know how to name.

I took her home in silence. I felt powerful and miserable at the same time, still not measuring the damage I was leaving behind me. But then all I cared about was the next time.

***

I decided to go further. I booked her a room in a hotel and convinced her, again with the photos, to dress the way I liked and go alone to the bar next door to flirt with strangers. Marta looked like a different woman in that dress, and she had no choice but to play along.

A man invited her for a drink before I went down. I sat with them, introduced myself as her husband, and explained that we went out like this because I could no longer perform, a lie that made the guy’s eyes light up. From there on, the compliments became shameless, and Marta, to my surprise, enjoyed them. She touched the hem of her dress, crossed and uncrossed her legs, let a thigh show, and smiled with a mix of embarrassment and hunger that made me rock hard.

The three of us went to the back of the parking lot. What happened there, I know, she did under pressure, but I also noticed that something in her had changed forever. The stranger groped her, pulled down her bra, licked her nipples, and bent her over the hood with my explicit permission. I pulled up her skirt from behind, fucked her while he kissed her mouth, and Marta ended up moaning both our names, soaked, broken, and wanting more. When the stranger left, thanking us, she spat on the ground and looked at me with a mix of anger and something else that wasn’t only anger.

***

Back in the room I lost my head for a second and slapped her across the face. I regretted it immediately, but it was already done. What came after was different: this time she took my clothes off, came looking for me, and we ended up in bed without my having to force anything. She wrapped her legs around my neck, took me all the way in, clawed at my back, and came with a violent shudder before letting me enter her again, deeper, until both of us were drenched in sweat and cum.

Lying there, Marta confessed that the stranger’s compliments had aroused her, and asked me, almost shyly, if she could see Diego again. The woman I had started blackmailing was now asking me for things. I didn’t know whether to feel victorious or lost.

We kept seeing each other. From time to time Diego showed up. And at home, meanwhile, the clock kept ticking toward the day I would become a father and, according to Bianca’s rules, be able to go back to my sister.

***

I tell all this without pride and without asking for forgiveness, because that would be false. I became someone who used the desire of three women as if they were pieces on a board: my sister, my wife, and my mother-in-law, each bound to me for a different reason.

The baby is due soon. Bianca is already talking about a second one, and Noelia, as always, won’t say no. Sometimes I wonder at what point I stopped deciding and my wife started deciding for all of us. But that, perhaps, is another confession.