Last time I saw my sister she was just a kid. Now, back for the funeral and there she was nineteen and a fucking little vixen. I barely recognised her. Tight little leather skirt, high heeled cavalier boots. She was just as spoilt mind, just as spoilt…

There is a certain sort of spoilt little bitch that deserves a bloody hard fucking. Penelope was one of them. Penelope, never Penny. Spoilt fucking little cow that came along with Daniel her father to the reconstituted family. I know, it makes us sound like a left over TV dinner and that’s what we were really. Surely my Mum could never love that man…but she did. She worshipped the fucker and what was worst, she came to worshp his spoilt little bitch of a daughter. When the family reformulated, when I got a new sister as well as a step dad, I was fourteen and Penelope was twelve. She came to the new family sulkily. She came with goth clothes and a premature problem attitude. Weren’t girls supposed to be sugar and spice until they reached fifteen or something? Well, no Penelope. She was a vile piece of work from the start.

From the time the new family joined up Penelope first worked on my mother and then turned the pair of them against me. Rebellious Penelope certainly was, but after three months of dishing out shit to the rest of us, she must have concluded her dad was serious about Julie. So she worked on her. She worked her way into Mum’s affections and the next thing i knew she was buying ‘Sis’ all sorts of nice new clothes. I got the supermarket jeans, you know. She got the fashion label jeans. I got one pair of jeans and she got four pairs of jeans. Women, my duped mother explained, had to deal with fashion. It was important for a young woman’s esteem. Well, with Penelope self esteem was all about showing off her arse in a dozen pretty ways. It was about playing jail bait to the stupid males who didn’t figure out that hot little candy could also be illegal. You know something, if she got one of those guys into big trouble then I don’t think that Madam Penelope would give a shit!

There are a myriad different ways to get your new brother in trouble and Penelope taught most of them to high school standard. Things happened around the house, things went missing and there were little clues left about my whereabouts. Things got broken, or were given away when they were treasured and well, somehow, someone that Penelope knew could tell Mum or dad that I had been seen doing a deal. It was fucking crazy. Penelope became little Miss Perfect and i was getting the reputation from hell. As soon as I got to eighteen I was out of there I tell you. I joined the army. Honest, a fucking sergeant major and drill, assault courses and the like, they were nothing compared with the misery that nasty little bitch caused.

I was 21 when Mum passed and vixen Penelope was 19. It was a heart attack they said, sudden, without a long illness or pain. The army gave me extended leave for the funeral and to try and sort things out about the confusing will that had been left. Somehow there were two competing versions of Mum’s will, regarding the house and may be thirty grand which somehow she had amassed. One version (the right version) left the house to me and the smaller amount of money to Madam Penelope. Another version left everything to Miss perfect breeches. Anyway, I left Aldershot and took the train north. I let Penelope know that i was coming up for the funeral. Amazingly she said that she would pick me up in her car. Pa Daniel wouldn’t be able to do much as his dementia was wrecking the bugger.

I couldn’t believe what Penelope was driving when I left the station. She had a fucking Porsche 911. OK, OK it was a ten year old model, but do you know what one of those fucking cars costs and what it takes to insure, for a 19 year old? I looked at the motor. I looked at her seated in the drivers seat. She was wearing shades, lots of Mum’s rings on her fingers and the Rolex that Daniel had given Mum too. Her leather skirt was up around her pert little arse and she had a leather choker about her throat. She looked like a fucking rock chick.

I got in the car, thinking, bitch, you’ve started spending Mum’s money before you get it. You’ve fucking bought this car on the HP and told them that you have sureity on the house. I fucking well looked at her and she started the engine which growled as we shot off down the dual carriage way.

‘You’ve not brought Alice with you’ she said, referring to my girlfriend. The little bitch had made jibes about my lovely girl in the past. You know, jokes about being in a band. Stupid stuff. I retorted that I couldn’t see her anywhere unless she had sneaked into my carry all.

‘We need a truce, for the funeral’ Penelope insisted, ‘you’ll upset Daniel if you make a fuss. Anyway, I’ve got a new man. He’s not very nice Ian. You wouldn’t want to cross him.’

Penelope had a figure on her. She was one sexy looking little bitch in that outfit. I couldn’t help but stare at her. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact the more that I stared the more she talked civil. She told me that Luther, her man had done one spell inside but now he had a successful business. He was in (shall we say) security. There ain’t many white Luthers hanging around our northern town. I pictured the black dude fucking her. I imagined him screwing her hot little ass and making her grunt like a fucking pig. The slut. Still, I agreed the truce but reminded her that we would visit the solictors about the will together. I wasn’t sure how Mum had retained a will in my favour. Perhaps she felt guilty in her old age. Anyway, I wasn’t letting go.

The house was the same, save that the place was full of goths. They were the sort of folk that you imagined never quite got out of black. They touched my arm and expressed their condolences to me and Penelope watched me stoney faced. As Daniel couldn’t comprehend all this he was nowehere to be seen. We went down the crematorium for the funeral, thirty minutes, two hymns, some nice words from Mum’s best friends and then the briefest reception at the local hostelry. Afterwards, Penelope came and found me. I was being driven to spend the night at Luther’s place. The house, the contested house was way too dismal.

Try to picture a fucking great black guy with two Thor hammers for fists. That was Luther. He didn’t say much to me. He was always on the phone. Penelope showed me through to the lounge and we broke open a bottle of scotch. I poured her a large measure. I watched her seat herself opposite me and cross her long lean legs. Bneath that tiny skirt she wore sockings and suspenders, no knickers. We started about past times. You couldn’t call them good times. Penelope talked about jeans, the sea cruise that Mum and dad had afforded for her when she became eighteen. She talked about her early hard life and how the new family time was a small consolation. I watched her cross her legs, and so help me I caught a glimpse of a pretty cunt. Penelope had become a young woman and thor Luther had made her even more of a one.

‘You never liked me’ she observed proffering more whisky and half filling my glass.

‘I was jealous of you’ I admitted, ‘you got everything’

‘Yes’ she admitted, ‘I’m used to getting everything, always having my own way’.

It shouldn’t have affected me that way. It fucking well shouldn’t have done so. But her haugtiness got my cock stiff. The little bitch, bitch in a sports car, she oozed sex. She jangled the rolex on her wrist as if to emphasize her claim and reminded me that both versions of the will gave her Mum’s jewellery. I wanted to tell her she was a young whore.

‘Do you remember Baz, that guy i was dating when I was 15?’ she sad softly, emptying her glass and refilling mine.

I did. He was twenty or something, a sexual exploitation accident waiting to happen!

‘Well Mum told me she caught you wanking Ian, watching me kiss that guy good night one evening.’

I fucking well blushed. Christ. How did she know that! Mum had found me. I was peeping through the curtains upstairs and watching Penelope’s arms snake around the guy’s neck.

‘You had a row. Mum called you a pervert because you wanted me and you screamed back that I wasn’t your proper sister. Wanting wasn’t having and in any case, i wasn’t biological with you.’

I stared at her and even though the whisky burned the back of my throat, I could feel the blood draining from my face.

‘It’s OK fancying me…having a crush on me. I wish Mum had told me earlier…I would have made your life masturabtion hell’.

I gulped down the last of the whisky. She waited for my fury. She waited for an excuse to call fists Luther in from the other room. I waggled the empty glass. There wasn’t anything I could think of to say.

‘You still want me and you hate me and you want me. Once I had the hold over you I never let go Ian. I didn’t have to know did I I just had to dress my way to make your dick worship me.’

I wanted to formulate something about what a nasty little bitch she was. The words wouldn’t form though. I couldn’t find a retort to throw back in her pretty, her smug young face.

‘You want this’ she said and casually, oh so casually, she slipped a leg up over the arm of the chair and hitched her skirt hem higher. Her cunt was bare and the lips down there stuck out like something luxurious beneath the sea. I watched her run her fingers langorously up and down her slit. She watched me, my gaze transfixed on her sex.

‘If you tried to fuck me, Luther would kill you. I’m the next living relative, so the estate would come to me. But you can sniff it if you want.’

I sneered. ‘Fuck you!’

She smiled.

‘Do you know, I picked up Alice as a social media friend. You know, friend of a friend, the way those things spread. May be I could tell her how I used to date Baz and how that made you feel.’

I blanched again. I could feel my fingers tightening on the whisky glass. Alice was demure, nice she came from a respectable family. She couldn’t imagine where we started from.

‘Come here’ Penelope whispered and beckoned me with her finger.

My head was swimming. The whisky just now and the beers down at the wake. I scowled at her.

‘Come here’ she whispered again. With her other hand she was still rubbing her cunt. It was gross!

Still, I got up, and wobbled in her direction. She pointed down to the worn carpet. I mouthed ‘fuck you’ and then dropped to my knees anyway.

‘When I heard about your dirty devotion, I promised myself that I would bring you to heel’ she said coldly. It was like watching a nineteen year old snake, fixing you with her fucking viper eyes.

She held forth the hand that she had been playing with herself down there. Mums rings on her fingers her watch on her wrist. She held the fingers beneath my nose. I tried to hold my breathe but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop myself and when I smelled her, the womanhood of her, the salty, moist fecond smell of her open sex, I blinked and didn’t open my eyes for a couple of moments.

‘Lick’ she said casually.

I licked her fingers and tasted the salt of her sex.

‘That’s why you hated me so much wasn’t it Ian? It wasn’t that I had nice things and you didn’t. It was because the clothes made me look sexy and you were getting hormone problems and thinking about me all the time.’

I shook my head but it was useless. She knew. She seemed to know everything. I watched her dip two fingers inside her sex and then ladel the juice from within and anoint my lips with it.

I sucked her fingers. I sucked them and saw her smile.

‘It’s OK, Luther won’t beat you just as long as you worship me’ she said calmly.

I shuddered. The conniving little cow.

She held open her sex lips, her petulent swollen lips, and waited for me to bend forward and worship her. I held out a couple of moments. I held out as best I could, but her gaze was relentless and the scent of her intoxicating.

‘Lick’ she said.

I shook my head.

Penelope took up her phone. May be she would media chat Alice. She didn’t have to actually say that.

I bent forward, sniffed her sex, felt the moist elixir of it again my lips and ran my tongue tip against hers.

‘Better’ she whispered. Then, as my tongue moistened her further, ‘open your mouth properly.’

Eating at the sex of my bitch step sister appaled me. I felt her fingers playing against my ear, the watch rubbing lightly against my cheek.

‘That’s better’ she whispered, ‘you lick very sweetly’.

I shook myself and dragged myself upwards.

‘You’re my fucking step sister….you’re younger than me!’ I snapped.

She laughed softly.

‘I’m not your sister…in your head, I’ve always been your mistress and you know it!’ she observed icily. ‘Lick!’

I bent forward gasping for breath. Every inhalation crippled me. I started to lick her fecund sex again.

‘What are you, a corporal?’

I nodded.

‘I’d only fuck an officer, you know that’ she taunted.

‘yes, i know’ I whispered trying not to sob.

‘You accept it? Mummy and daddy were right, I was always better than you Ian?’ the observation sounded lazy, casual.

‘Yes’ I gasped and loathed myself in a thousand ways.

There was the light from her mobile phone as she video clipped my adoration.

‘You keep licking Mistress’s pussy and you’re going to get utterly addicted’ she observed, catching my ministrations. I opened my mouth to her and worshipped her terrible sex.

I felt her run her fingers through my hair and felt the rings catch there. I was devastated by the emotion of the day, wrecked by the whisky.

‘You’re to dump Alice understood, you will do that won’t you? All that aching, all that wanking. You can come and live here with Luther and I.’

I lapped at her swollen clitty. The might have been an act of resistance, but it wasn’t. I wanted to eat her sex alive. Something bloody primal drove me from within.

‘Do that when we’ve finished, by text, without reason understood?’

She held my head back a moment. I gasped. I gasped to bury my shame faced head back between her shapely legs.

‘Yes’ I gasped.

I was admitted back to her wet sex. She pulled my face at little harder against her quim as she squirmed.

‘Then we’ll talk about you leaving the army. You will have ten grand pocket money and I will have all the rest. You wouldn’t like to see me go without a new sports car….would you?’

I felt fucking mesmerised. Her sex was a drug. I ladled and ladled against her and felt her thighs tighten as she enjoyed that. I suckled agaimnst her button, contesting her, demanding that she climax.. the little bitch.

My head was wrenched back her hand gripping a hank of my hair.

I panted, my eyes wide my breathing crazy.

‘Yes!! Yes, fucking yes!’ I snapped at her.

She brought me back to suckle. She brought me back and stroked my hair.

‘Sometimes hate and love are almost the same don’t you think Ian?’ she mewed. Her climax was building. It was building.

Lutheran Maid