﻿Hierarchy of Needs

by Pan



Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2021-09-25
Packaged: 2024-02-16 22:26:01
Chapters: 26
Words: 70,289
Publisher: mcstories.com
Story URL: https://mcstories.com/HierarchyOfNeeds/index.html
Author URL: https://mcstories.com/Authors/Pan.html
Summary: Behind a small door in Jacob’s house, there’s four filing cabinets—one for each member of his family.
Erotica Tags: ex, in, mc, md, mf





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26



	Chapter 1

I don’t know how, but I’d never noticed the small doorway before. It was opposite the bathroom, and so you’d think I’d have seen it every time I exited the smallest room in the house, but I just…hadn’t.

At the time I was in a rush, so I just mentally noted it, thought “How strange,” and ran to meet my friends.

It was later that night—when I couldn’t sleep—that I decided to explore it.

My name’s Jacob. I live with my mother, my father, and my sister. Well, Mom and Dad aren’t around much, so it’s just me and Ashley most of the time. We’re sometimes referred to as the “Wonder Twins”. Not because we’re twins, but because we lucked out genetically. I’m tall, broad-shouldered, and I work out—and my sister?

To put it simply, my sister is the most attractive creature on the planet.

Long, blonde hair, a tiny waist, and tits that are perfectly proportioned to her frame. They say I’m a looker, but I honestly can’t compete with Ash…I know that it’s wrong, but many time I’ve lain awake at night thinking about my sister’s perfectly plump lips wrapping around my cock, wondering if her body is as perfect as it looks…

I’d feel guilty about it, but honestly…a lot of things keep me up at night. I’m an insomniac, and if I’m going to be staring at the ceiling, I figure I might as well be thinking about something pleasant. Sometimes I’ll make a game of it, and see how many times I can jerk off in a row. I don’t always think about my sister, but she’s started wearing less and less clothes around the house, so…yeah, it’s rare for any other females to enter my fantasies.

Unless they’re joining my sister and me, if you know what I mean.

On this night, however, I wasn’t jerking off. I was laying there, as usual, staring at the ceiling, when suddenly I remembered the little door. Now you might be thinking that the middle of the night isn’t the best time to be exploring strange rooms, but let me tell you: when you can’t sleep, the middle of the night is the best time for doing _anything_.

I got up, grabbed a flashlight, and decided to see what was in there.

I wasn’t expecting anything exciting. It was just a door in my house that I’ve never noticed before; it wasn’t like it was going to contain hidden pirate treasure, or a secret aunt that Mom and Dad never told us about. But one of my methods of dealing with the insomnia is to just follow my whims. An unanswered question can bounce around my head all night, but I knew that once I saw that nothing was in there, it would be one more thing that wasn’t be distracting me.

The door was stiff, like it hadn’t been opened in a long time. The doorknob turned fine, it was the door itself that seemed to be stuck. I gave it a good shove, but nothing happened.

A part of me considered just going back to bed, but I wanted to know what was in there. Even if it was just old Christmas decorations, I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I found out. So I put the flashlight down on the floor, put my shoulder to the door, and gave it a good shove.

I felt it shift, and decided to give it one more shot—with a proper run-up—and if that failed, give up, go to bed, and spend the rest of the night wondering why the sky was blue or something like that.

(Not really; I know exactly why the sky is blue. The question kept me up all night when I was nine, and so I’d found my parents’ old encyclopaedias, and read everything relating to ’atmosphere’ and ’light frequencies’ and yada yada yada. If I’d known the password to their computer, I probably would’ve been able to find out in less than two minutes).

In the end, I had to do a run-up while half bent over (if my parents or sister had come out at that point, they would have been met with a very strange sight).

Determined to find out what was inside the tiny door—perhaps Harry Potter, locked away so his letters couldn’t find him—I half-ran, half-scampered towards the door, and when my shoulder made contact, the small door flew open with a loud ’BANG’, and I went tumbling into the tiny room.

Not surprisingly, it was full of dust, and I spent a few minutes coughing and wheezing, hoping that I wasn’t filling my lungs with asbestos. When I felt like I could breathe again, I listened carefully to see if my door-opening skills had roused anyone from their sleep. Nope! It seemed that I was free to explore the room alone.

My flashlight illuminated the tiny room. It was no longer than an average bed, and about as wide as a king. A king bed, that is. Not, like, an actual king. It was so full of dust that I was practically choking with every breath; I put my sleeve over my mouth just to make sure that I didn’t start coughing again, and had a look at the room’s contents.

In each corner of the room was a filing cabinet…other than that, the room was completely bare. Weirdly, each filing cabinet had a name—‘Spencer Maslow’, ’Ruth Maslow’, ’Ashley Maslow’ and my name, ’Jacob Maslow’. Ruth and Spencer are my parents, and my first thought was that this was where they kept all of our paperwork. Birth certificates, SSNs, tax returns, all that kind of thing…but then I remembered that Mom had a drawer in her study upstairs for all that junk. And they’d needed to find Ashley’s birth certificate when she got her license last year.

This room looked like it hadn’t been opened in a long, long time.

I went straight for my own filing cabinet, of course—who wouldn’t? Inside there were a bunch of files, and I picked one at random from the middle.

‘Organization,’ it said, and here’s where things got really weird.

Inside the file was a diagram of my room, and then another, more detailed diagram of my desk. And it was completely up to date…like, it had the new monitor I’d just inherited from a friend (when he got a better one. He didn’t die or anything) earlier that week.

It was obvious that no one had been in this room for years, so how did it have such current information? The paper looked brand-new; it wasn’t even slightly yellowed.

I continued to flip through, and got more and more freaked out as I did. The ‘organization’ file included a complete hierarchy of my computers’ contents. Somehow, whoever had put these files together knew the system that I _organized my porn system with._

Figuring I was sleep hallucinating or something like that, I returned the folder to the front of the drawer I’d pulled it from, and staggered out of there. I shut the door carefully, and went back into my bedroom, where I spent several more hours staring at my ceiling before eventually drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, when I woke up, I was easily able to convince myself that it had all been a dream. I’d had some insanely realistic dreams before, and they always felt like that. So plausible-seeming at the time, but looking back they just didn’t make sense. One time, I’d imagined that I was a horse, but with my exact life: same parents, hot sister, bed…but I had four legs instead of two, and no arms. I remember getting really frustrated when I couldn’t open the fridge with my mouth.

It was a Saturday, so my plans ranged from ’lounging around the living-room doing nothing’, and ‘hanging out in my bedroom, also doing nothing.’ A quick glance at the clock told me two things: firstly, that it was askew, something which I quickly corrected; and secondly, that I’d slept in well past twelve.

On the way to the kitchen, I was unable to resist checking out the door, seeing if I’d imagined that _it_ existed, or just what it contained…

Sure enough, there it was: a door that you had to hunch over to use, right across the hall from the bathroom. I must have seen it, and incorporated it into my weird dreams. I turned the handle and it opened easily, but I restrained myself from going in. I wasn’t quite prepared to face whatever lay behind those doors, whether it was four inexplicably-labelled filing cabinets, or…I dunno, a haunted ventriloquists’s dummy, ready to fuck my shit up for the next few days (and several sequels).

I began to make myself a sandwich, but when I went to get the ingredients, got distracted by the disarray that met me in the fridge and pantry. I never ended up making the sandwich, deciding to reorganizing the kitchen instead. My sister was sitting on the couch when I emerged an hour or two later. When I saw her, I barely managed to refrain from cursing out loud.

Ashley plays tennis on Saturdays, and hadn’t changed after the game. She should have been sweaty and disgusting, but of course she just looked sexy-messy. Her tennis outfit didn’t cover her toned midriff, or her long legs, and she had this terrible habit of taking her bra off as soon as she got home.

I didn’t _want_ to be attracted to my sister, I swear, but she left me no choice…

Declining her offer to check out the latest South Park with her, I made my way straight to my room to jerk it. I finished myself in record time, and immediately felt much more relaxed, especially after I threw out the tissues I used for clean-up, and emptied my bin. Maybe I’d be able to hang out with her like a normal brother now that I’d taken care of my damned hormones.

I’d just started to sort out my MTG cards (something I’d been meaning to do for literally months now when I heard a knock on the door. It was Ashley; she was clearly bored, and apparently I was better company than the TV. I know what you’re reading this for, but I didn’t throw her over my desk and take her or anything like that—it would have made a mess, for one, but more importantly…Ashley had no idea how I felt about her.

My sister and I spent the rest of the day just shooting the shit like siblings do. She and I had always gotten along, and when I wasn’t letting my dick do the thinking, we had a perfectly normal brother-sister relationship. We talked about Game of Thrones, and then spent even longer talking about how everyone on Facebook was talking about the latest episode. She kept me company as I put my laundry away, and even complimented me on my mad folding skillz.

I considered telling her about the door, but something held me back. I guess a small part of me still believed that it could have been real, impossible though it seemed. After she left, I jerked off again (yeah, we have a normal relationship, but I had just sat in a room with a short-skirt-wearing goddess all day; I’m only human) and decided to go online.

I’d been on reddit for less than half an hour when I glanced down, and noticed something a little odd.

My desk was immaculate. I don’t just mean ’it didn’t have half-eaten bowls of pasta on it’, I mean it was…perfect. There wasn’t a single item out of place…even my pencils, somehow, were arranged from smallest to largest, exactly how you’d imagine pencils would be arranged in a perfect world.

This freaked me out, as it would anyone, and I quickly opened my computer’s desktop. It was covered in the normal mish-mash of icons that I store there, and without even thinking, I started making folders, subfolders…I ensured that there was a place for everything, and everything had its place. I didn’t even look at the clock, just started sorting, and was physically incapable of stopping until I was done.

As I put the last image I’d downloaded into its correct sub-subfolder (Porn > Pics > Solo topless > Redheads), I sat back, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. It…it was hard to describe. It wasn’t like I had no control over my body; I was completely in control. My body would do whatever I wanted. It was just that…well, spending my evening sorting out folders _was_ what I wanted.

No, more than that…’want’ is such a weak word. I needed to. With every fibre of my body, I needed to turn that chaotic pile of pixels into a system that made sense. Until everything was just right, the rest of the world was a blur—it was the ultimate tunnel vision. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, I couldn’t _think_ of anything else. It was like one of those niggling questions that come to me at night—I couldn’t sleep until it was solved.

I just _couldn’t_.

It was like holding your breath; you can only do it for so long, before your need for oxygen takes over.

I wondered, briefly, if my insomnia had somehow triggered some kind of latent OCD tendencies, but a quick google search quickly dispelled that idea. My head spinning, I turned around and opened my drawer—all of my clothes were neatly folded and efficiently stacked next to each other, a stark contrast to my usual system of ‘throw them all in and root around when you want something.’

I closed the drawer—the idea of leaving it open almost made me physically ill—and tried to work out what was happening. Retracing my steps, I suddenly realized that everything I’d done since waking up that morning had been focused on neatness, on organization.

This wasn’t like me at all.

It was getting close to midnight, so I lay on my bed (which I’d made that morning, for the first time…ever), shut my eyes, and tried to sleep.

Unsuccessfully, of course. If trying to remember the name of the bad guy from the Smurfs (’Gargamel’, in case you’re wondering) had once kept me up for six hours, suddenly becoming an OCD neat freak ensured that there was no chance of slumber overtaking me.

It was a long time before my eyes snapped open in sudden realization:

The dream.

In my dream, I’d opened a filing cabinet with my name on it, and found a file labelled ’Organization’. I’d moved that file. Had what I’d done in my dream somehow rewired my brain?

Had it even been a dream at all?

The rational side of me tried to dismiss the thought, but it was pointless. The thought had entered my head, and I knew that it was going to niggle away at me until I disproved it. With a sigh, I got up, found my flashlight (neatly hanging up behind my door) and went back down the hall.

Apparently there are tests you can do to see if you’re dreaming. Look at your watch, look away, and then look at it again, stuff like that. I wish I’d known them at the time, because I can tell you, it sure as hell felt like a dream.

The door silently opened inward. Hunched over, I stepped into the room and was again faced with four filing cabinets, each clearly labelled with the name of one of my family members. The footsteps in the dust confirmed that either I’d been here the previous night, or at least that this new dream could remember the earlier one.

I retraced my steps, stood in front of the drawer bearing my name, and opened it.


	Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke up feeling more refreshed than I had in _years_. I practically sprang out of bed—it was Sunday, and that meant that Mom and Dad were off to church. (As kids, my sister and I had been forced to accompany them, but now they gave us the choice…with Ashley and I unanimously deciding that staying at home was the greatly superior option.)

I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, picked out a nice outfit, and went to sit in the garden.

Either I was going mad, or it had worked.

The drawer had looked exactly as I remembered it: hundreds and hundreds of files, fitting impossibly in the same drawer. At the very front, where I had hastily shoved it last night, was the one that read ’Organization’. Behind it was simply ‘Air’, and behind that, ‘Water’. They continued in this manner, with ‘Food’ sitting only a few files ahead of ‘Orgasm’, and ’Love’ a few behind that.

I can’t remember all of them, but a few stuck in my head—I couldn’t resist pulling out ’Video Games’, to discover a checklist of sorts of the games that I had and hadn’t finished, in order of priority. ‘Morality’ was in there, as well as ‘Basic Grooming’—I didn’t see any labelled ’Advanced Grooming’, but there were so many files in the (possibly infinite) drawer that after the first few hundred, I had to stop.

What had I discovered?

* * *

In high-school, we’d learned about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. I remember it mainly because I got teased for months afterward—I don’t know if we were related to that Maslow, but if your surname is the same as something you learn about…yeah, you’re going to get shit for it. Not a lot of ’Edisons’ or ‘Einsteins’ or ’Plancks’ or ’Lincolns’ in my class, so most of the teasing had gone to me.

I also remembered the details because it was interesting, though: Maslow had worked out all the human desires and then ranked them. The first priority was stuff like ’Food’ and ’Shelter’, and then once you had those, you could start to worry about family, clothes, all the non-vitals that still matter.

According to his pyramid, it’s only once you have those that ’self-esteem’ and ’achieving long-term goals’ become a priority. That’s why you don’t see a lot of heroin addicts running for president…well, maybe that’s not the only reason, but you know what I mean.

Looking at the order of the files in my drawer, it looked like this was a similar thing, but…for me. For my own brain.

Air, obviously, is a pretty high priority, and water isn’t far behind. By moving ‘Organization’ to the front, I’d put it as my number one priority in life. Only if things were organized would I make the time to drink, eat, breathe.

As the enormity of what I’d done sunk in, I considered how lucky I was. It only occurred to me then, as I sifted through the files, that I hadn’t eaten anything that day—there had always been something to tidy, something to rearrange. Had I put myself in a situation where the choice was between _breathing_ and organizing, I could have died. I _would_ have died.

Fortunately, I wasn’t compelled to put the files in alphabetical order or anything like that. I’m pretty sure that would have killed me, if only of exhaustion; there was an uncountable infinity of them, presumably representing every possible need that a human could ever want. I slid ’Organization’ back into the middle of the drawer, and felt as though a huge weight had been lifted. Because it wasn’t my room or my responsibility, it hadn’t been as much of a priority, but without me even realizing, my brain had been aware of the dust in the room, of the haphazard way in which the cabinets had been placed.

Fortunately the drawer had been perfectly organized by priority, or I might have been trapped there for an eternity as I tried to alphabetize an infinite number of files.

I tried to ignore the questions suddenly filling my head: who had put them there? How did they work? _Was_ this just a dream? On a rational level, I knew that a room like this was impossible, completely inconceivable…but at the same time, I was _there_ , I was standing in it.

The buzzing of questions grew louder and louder, as they did every night, so often preventing me from sleeping. Suddenly, I had a moment of clarity: after a few minutes of my fingers skipping through the files, I found it: ‘Curiosity’. I picked it out, and kept searching until I found ’Sleep’, and placed the ‘Curiosity’ file directly behind it. For good measure, I also grabbed ’Basic Grooming’, and moved it way up the priority order. I always found it so, so hard to _care_ what I looked like, or whether my shirt was clean…

From what I’d observed that day, it seemed that changing the order wasn’t obnoxious or intrusive—just like it never bothers you if you don’t like anchovies (you just…don’t like anchovies) maybe this would make taking care of how I looked such a natural, basic impulse that I’d never leave the house looking like a mess again.

As soon as I shut the drawer, the questions stopped buzzing in my head, and a wave of tiredness hit me. And not the gnawing, ’I need to sleep but I don’t _want_ to sleep’ wave that comes with insomnia: a real, true desire to curl up in bed, and just sleep.

A few minutes later, I did exactly that, and when I woke up, I felt even more full of energy than I had that morning.

* * *

Now that I’d slept, the questions were back, but (since they were no longer impeding my rest) for once I actually welcomed them. My head was buzzing with possibilities: what to do? What _could_ I do? And, perhaps most importantly of all, what _should_ I do?

I decided that safety had to be my number one concern. The fear that had gripped me when I realized how casually I’d moved a desire to be tidy and organized in front of a desire to _live_ was still lurking, and I vowed that I wasn’t going to put anything above the basics. Air, food, water…they were my priorities. They had to be. But what else? I could make myself more motivated…I could make myself more motivated to do whatever I wanted, in fact. Instead of following my heart’s desire, I could _decide_ my heart’s desire, and then follow that.

And this, dear reader, is where I made my big mistake.

See, humans aren’t wired to make those kinds of decisions. If you want to be a carpenter, you want to be a carpenter: you don’t decide to _want_ to be a carpenter and then spent the next few years learning to love it. I have no regrets…hell, perhaps I’m past regrets. But if I could do it all again, I think I’d do it differently.

I spent most of the day pretty much just grooming myself and napping. Trust me, as someone who spent so many years deprived of sleep: it’s a beautiful, beautiful thing, and I was determined to experience it to the full. And it turns out: I tidy up okay! Combing my hair, straightening my clothes; all these things that used to be chores were suddenly…not.

When I sneaked into the room again that night, I was resolved to sort through the drawer, find something that would get me ahead in life and move it forward. I’m sure that from the outside, you can think of a million better ways of doing this, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I moved ’Organization’ back up; not nearly as much far up as I’d moved it last time, just enough so that my life would be neat and I’d never have to waste time looking for things. And then, deep in the drawer, sandwiched between, of all things, ’Sandwiches’ and ’Nose-picking’ (the latter of which I moved back as far as I could reach), I found it:

‘Sex With Ashley.’

Now when I’d moved ’Organization’ up, organizing had been something that I had started to just do without thinking. In that moment, I just assumed that this would work the same way. That if I moved it up, it would just…happen. I wouldn’t even have to think about it.

You’ve got to understand, I was an eighteen year-old virgin. On top of that, I’d just found a magical cabinet that controlled my mind…and my sister constantly strutted around in various states of undress, driving me wild.

And so, yeah. I didn’t really think it through. As if it belonged to someone else, I watched my hand pull the file out and move it toward the front. Not to a dangerous level, of course, but…looking back, still quite high.

I rearranged a few other files—’Intelligence’ got a boost, though as I’d soon work out, that just meant a _desire_ for intelligence, not intelligence itself. I considered delegating ’Video Games’ to the rear ranks with ’Nose-picking’, but decided that I needed a creative outlet, and didn’t want the money that I’d already put into various consoles to be a complete waste. ’Pet Ownership’ got bumped to right to the back…our parents won’t let us have one, and I was sick of yearning for the impossible.

As soon as I moved each file, I felt the changes. The thought of owning a dog or a cat immediately held no appeal, and even though my ’Sleep’ desire now outranked ’Curiosity’, I was still tempted to go online and browse Wikipedia. I could feel a dried booger at the side of my nose, but I was content to just leave it there…after all, it wasn’t doing any harm.

And when I thought of my sister, I suddenly had the biggest boner I’d ever had…and couldn’t stop myself from glancing over to her cabinet, and wondering what was inside.

* * *

I didn’t touch it. Not that night, anyway…instead, I went to bed, and despite _wanting_ to sleep, tossed and turned for a few hours before I actually drifted off.

The same issue kept coming back to my mind. It was a matter of morality, not curiosity, and so the new order of my files had no effect.

_I’d just look,_ I told myself. _I’d just _see_ if ’Sex With Jacob’ even ranked…I wouldn’t touch anything, and if I did, I’d…no_, I had to cut that thought off before it began.

On the other side of the battle within my brain, I could clearly hear ’Sex With Ashley’ talking. _Just a quick fiddle,_ it told me. _You’re not hurting anyone. Look at yourself! You’re happier now that you’ve got your priorities in order. While you’re in there, you can even increase her motivation, her fitness, her…flexibility._

That last thought took over briefly, and I jerked off twice before going to sleep, images of Ashley as my own personal sex slave flashing through my mind…

I dreamt about it, that night. Going there for real was so dreamlike, when I awoke I could barely remember what had actually happened and what was the product of my subconscious imagination. I’d definitely gone into my drawer, I knew that…but had I also opened Ashley’s? The file reading ’Servitude to Jacob’, before even ’Air’ or ’Water’ or ‘Food’, that was definitely a part of the dream, but what about the rest?

The turmoil didn’t end, and I spent the entire day distracted. No matter what I was doing, my mind was drifting, picturing Ashley in a collar, on a leash, mine to command…

Had I realized at that point my mistake, that I’d moved ’Sex with Ashley’ too high, this story would have a completely different end. I would have gone home, moved it back to a reasonable level, and perhaps locked the door to the mysterious room, never entering it again…

…but I didn’t. I spent the whole day struggling with my conscience, and when I got home, I’d had enough.

The solution to my insomnia had been easy: move ‘Curiosity’ behind ’Sleep’, and never lay awake at night again. And so when a similarly simple solution struck me, it was no wonder that I didn’t think twice before carrying it out…

The other factor, of course, was Ashley. If I hadn’t arrived home that day to find her sunbathing in the front back yard, lathering herself up with coconut oil, moving her hands up and down her long, white legs, across her beautifully taut stomach, rubbing it into her long neck…perhaps I would have thought twice.

A part of me even wants to blame the bikini. I don’t even know where you _get_ an orange bikini, but Ashley had one. She’d once told me that she’d never wear it _out_ , but for some reason it was fine to wear at home…presumably because family shouldn’t be looking at each other like that. It was designed to cut down on tan-lines, and the easiest way to do that is to expose as much flesh as possible.

So yeah, when I’d arrived home to acres and acres of utterly fuckable flesh, I think it screwed with my brain a bit. I didn’t even go and masturbate to cool off—I stormed straight through the little door, opened my drawer, picked up ‘Morality’, and put it as far away from the front as I could.

As soon as the drawer was closed, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The war was over, the voices in my head, ceaselessly bickering…had stopped. A smile spread across my face, and I realized that now, I was unstoppable…

I’d done what Pinocchio should have done the second the talking cricket showed up. I’d killed my conscience, and now _nothing_ was off the table.


	Chapter 3

I’m not a monster.

It isn’t like I even felt any different, really. I just…didn’t prioritize ‘acting morally’ any more. It’s not like I became a psychopath; I still feel love, affection, happiness, sadness…in fact, since I stopped letting my conscience guide my actions, I’ve had to be a lot more thoughtful about what I do.

For example I’d never do anything truly _evil_.

I mean, if I thought anyone would find out.

Nah, it’s more complicated that than. Like…if someone came up to you and said “hey, the morally correct thing to do right now would be to cut off your legs”, it’s not like you’d immediately start leaping for a hacksaw. Sure, that might be ’moral’, but I’ll bet ’avoiding pain’ or ’living the rest of your life with legs’ are even more important to you.

You might not immediately go “sorry dude, I love legs more than I like morality”—you’d find some way to justify it, some way to explain your choices…but ultimately, I bet that’s what would happen.

Well, similarly, there are loads of reasons I don’t do ’evil’ things besides just having a sense of morality. Making my parents sign everything over to me, for example. Sure, it crossed my mind, and the cabinets definitely gave me the ability to do it (just put ’Jacob’s Happiness’ above everything else, and tell them that it would make me happy. They wouldn’t even think twice)… but I never would.

No, I want my parents to be happy. And I want my sister to be happy as well, truly. I just want her to be happy in a very specific way. ‘Bouncing up and down on my cock, screaming with joy’—that kind of happiness.

I wasn’t suddenly about to go out and start murdering people. I just wasn’t avoiding it purely because it’s “wrong”. (A desire to avoid jail + a lack of reasons _to_ murder anyone were much bigger factors, even before I messed with my file.)

The next day, I had two immediate goals:

First of all, the room.

For some reason—probably just dumb luck—no one but me had ever found that room. And I couldn’t risk that happening…the room somehow had the ability to affect how people thought. The drawers had the capacity to control people, including _me_ , and if anyone else went near it, it could ruin everything.

Secondly, Ashley.

It had taken almost a full day for me to notice that I was compulsively organizing everything I touched, but I’d still noticed. If Ashley abruptly found herself on her knees in front of her little brother, she just _might_ suspect that something was up. So tempting though it was, I couldn’t just make ’Jacob’s Cum’ more of a priority than water; whatever I did, it had to be slow, subtle. And I had to make sure that Mom and Dad wouldn’t notice anything was up either.

So when my parents were at work and my sister out shopping, I took the opportuntiy to—unrestrained by conscience—go into the little room and started planning.

The first thing I did was find ’Curiosity’ in each of the three filing cabinets, and move it toward the back, hoping that would curb any questions that my parents had, and stop them from entering the small room that I’d discovered. Dad works in research, which I suppose requires a certain level of innate curiosity…but ’Dad’s Career’ was way below ’Sex With Ashley’ in my priorities, so I figured that was a problem that he would have to deal with himself.

Then I spent an hour or so just reading the name of Ashley’s files. Each drawer, at a glance, looked like it should hold no more than a few hundred files, but I’d gone through at least a thousand before I realized anything was amiss.

The drawers contained every need imaginable, from the obvious ’Socialization’, ’Body Maintenance’, ‘Cleanliness’ (distinctly different from Organization, I’ll point out), ’Sex’ (again, separate from ‘Orgasm’). Once you got past the obvious major needs, however, it started to get a little weird. ‘Cooking’ was in there. Not eating or sustenance, but cooking itself. I guess my sister has an innate desire to cook; something that I’ve never personally experienced, but it explained why once or twice a week, she’d volunteer to take care of dinner.

‘Cleaning’ was in there (way behind ’Cleanliness’) as was ’Owning Nice Make-up’. ’Comfort’, ’Doodling’, ’Good Illumination’. All human desires, sure, but not the ones that you’d immediately come up with, y’know?

I opened up ’Good Illumination’, and that was when I made a huge discovery. Inside the folder were a number of subfolders: ’Good Illumination While Cooking’, for example. ’Good Illumination While Reading’, and even (much further back) ’Good Illumination While Painting’. Ashley doesn’t paint, so it makes sense that the lighting would be a low priority for her.

I briefly wondered what would happen if I took the ’Good Illumination While Painting’ folder out and put it right at the front of her drawer—would it affect her desire to paint, or would it only come into play if she _was_ painting?—but my curiosity was no longer the pressing desire that it had been just two nights ago, so I left it where it was.

Opening the ’Good Illumination While Reading’ file, and learned that the babushka dolls went deeper still; there were a handful of folders inside it. ’Good Illumination While Reading In Bedroom’, ‘Good Illumination While Reading In Kitchen’…

It’s hard to explain exactly how mundane these folders seemed. It was like a dream, awake though I definitely was. I mean, looking back, the ’Good Illumination’ folder seemed to be as thin as the others, and it was only when I opened it that I realized how many subfolders it contained.

Similarly, each of those subfolders felt light enough to be empty, until I opened them and found more subfolders within them…if each folder went as deep as that one did, then there must have been several million files in that one drawer, but at the time it just all sort of…made sense.

I didn’t even think to question it, and so absolutely nothing seemed amiss at the time. They were just normal, bland, grey folder; it wasn’t like I’d opened a wardrobe and found a man with goat-legs, y’know? I was more focused in how I could use the folders for my own personal gain than interested in the logistics of them, so didn’t even register anything strange about their arrangement. It just all seemed really…normal, I guess.

Putting ’Good Illumination’ back where I’d found it, I kept hunting through the drawer. It didn’t take long until I hit paydirt, and then a few minutes later, hit it again.

‘Trust’ was the first discovery that put an ambitious glint in my eyes.

You see, as I’d worked out, ‘Trust’ didn’t mean that she would just immediately start trusting more. No…’Trust’ meant that she would _prioritize_ trust, that she wouldn’t be comfortable until she felt like she could trust people in her life. If I made Trust (or specifically ’Trust in Jacob’) a high priority for my sister, then she’d start finding ways to make sure that she could trust me.

I didn’t know exactly what that would look like, but if I knew it was coming, I was sure that I’d be able to take advantage of it somehow.

Putting ’Trust’ aside, I kept flipping through, suddenly realizing what my first move had to be. It didn’t take me long to find the folder—that, I said to myself, certainly explained my sister’s choice of dress.

’Exhibitionism’. What a beautiful word. As soon as I saw it, I moved it to the front—behind the essentials, of course, but ahead of ’Modesty’, ’Adherence To Social Bounds’, even ‘Avoiding Embarrassment’.

Knowing that Ashley could get home any minute, I didn’t bother sifting through the Exhibitionism folder for specifics, and moved the entire thing to the front.

Trust, however, I took the time to open. ’Trust In Family’ was right at the front, and ’Trust In Jacob’ was one of the three biggest. Inside ’Trust in Jacob’ there were simply pieces of paper covered in tiny text.

I suppose the rabbit-hole had to end somewhere.

I took the whole folder out, moved it to the front of my sister’s drawer, and put the rest of ’Trust’ approximately back where I’d found it.

Ashley would _need_ to trust me. And hopefully she’d show a little skin in the process. I figured that would be enough to trigger some changes without being enough to make my sister suspicious…especially since her curiosity had been turned right down.

Perfect.

* * *

Ashely Maslow was on the bus on the way to work when she noticed.

On some level, she’d been aware of the man sitting opposite her since she first got on the bus. The nineteen-year old wasn’t stupid; she knew she was gorgeous. If winning the genetic lottery hadn’t been enough, she put plenty of time into taking care of herself, and had no serious reservations when it came to showing her body off.

In appropriate contexts, of course. In which ’sitting on the bus’ wasn’t typically included. Ashley would normally spend the ride just burying her nose in a book and hoping she could get home without being harassed.

And so even if she hadn’t consciously registered it, the young woman had been immediately aware that the man sitting beside her was checking her out.

What she hadn’t noticed was that at some point she’d reached down and unconsciously began inching her skirt higher, slowly exposing more and more of her leg for him to look at.

Her own actions only reached her awareness when her finger came into contact with her panties and a strange thought popped into her head.

_What on earth am I wearing panties for?_

There was something wrong with that question, she knew, but before she could really think about what it was, she glanced up and noticed the man’s face. His face had gone slightly red, he was panting so loudly that other people on the bus had started to notice.

And if there was no doubt what had caused his reaction; the eyes of Ashley’s seat-neighbor eyes were focused squarely on her exposed leg.

It was the hottest thing the young woman had ever experienced.

A thrill ran through her entire body. _I’m so wet,_ she thought, as her skin began to go almost as read as her peeping Tom’s. _Probably so wet that my panties are see-through._

_I should show him._

On some level, Ashley knew the thought was wrong. Perhaps not morally—after all, who was she harming? He clearly wanted it as much as she did—but she was so turned on by the idea of exposing her soaked panties to a stranger, she couldn’t resist.

It only took her a few seconds to realize that there was no casual, subtle movement that would result in her admirer getting the vantage-point she wanted him to have, and so she threw caution to the wind and moved her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bus seat, giving him the perfect view of her soaked, clinging panties.

_This is why I’m wearing underwear,_ she realized, catching her breath as she realized she could see the outline of her voyeur’s erection. The erection she had caused. _This wouldn’t be as hot if it was just my pussy…_

_Or would it?_

She dismissed the question as soon as it arrived, instead focusing her attention on giving her audience the best possible view. The man sitting beside her was staring so blatantly, it hadn’t been hard for the other passengers to learn what was causing his agitated state. Many had been disgusted and looked away, but several passengers had joined him in his lustful gaze of the young lady.

_They just see me as a piece of meat,_ she realized. She knew that she should be horrified by the thought, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself craving more of the strangers’ objectification. _Why did I wear such an unflattering top today??_

Ashley yawned loudly, garnering the attention of the few remaining men who weren’t already checking her out. She stretched, meeting her elbows behind her back, putting her prominent chest even more on display.

Like a litter of cats following a laser pointer, the attention of every leering man on the bus moved from her legs (and what was between them) to her sizable boobs. Ashley’s cheeks burned with excitement. Her nipples were erect, though hidden by the bra she was inexpicably wearing, and she was tempted to rip her top off, throw her bra away, and give the enthusiastic audience a real look at what she had to offer.

_All in good time,_ she told herself.

Now that all the eyes pointed in her direction were focused on her chest, Ashley slowly began spreading her legs, panting as she did. Half from excitement, half to keep the gazes on her bust as she set up for her next move.

Reaching down, the young woman moved the gusset of her panties aside and used two fingers to spread her stubbled pussy-lips.

A warm feeling spread through Ashley as she realized that she could count at least a dozen erections, pushing against the mens’ jeans and pants.

_I caused those_ , she told herself, smiling as her focus moved from one outline to another. _Those are all because of me…_

One less-than-subtle cough later, and some of the men looked at her face (probably for the first time, she told herself with another erotic thrill) to find her grinning, and gesturing downwards with her eyes.

When they glanced between her legs again, they saw her pussy-lips spread wide.

_That’s the inside of my pussy you’re looking at,_ she told herself. _You can see my insides…_

The thought caused her to shudder with pleasure. Some of the men had started to look around as though wondering if they were on some kind of candid camera show, but as Ashley’s other hand reached down and began rubbing her clit, they stopped caring.

_Candid,_ she thought, just the word enough to make her shudder in pleasure. _Camera…_

Two stops after she was meant to get off, Ashley got off. She came loudly on the back seat of the bus, panting and moaning, focused entirely on how it felt to have so many strangers’ eyes on her body.

As she walked home, the afterglow of orgasm began to wear off, and she wondered what had just come over her.

”That’s not like me,” she murmured thoughtfully, even as she pulled her shirt down to expose as much cleavage as she could to a passing man. The sight of his eyes glowing with admiration distracted her, and she forgot what she’d been saying to herself, instead beginning to wonder if there was somewhere she could ditch her bra, and start flashing people in for the remaining few minutes of her walk.


	Chapter 4

It took me longer than it should have to realize what was going on.

Twenty minutes after I slipped out of the small room, my sister arrived home, and I almost did a double-take when I saw what she was wearing.

It looked like she’d strategically ripped her shirt to show off as much skin as possible, and it was clear that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. All as planned, right?

Wrong. To my surprise, Ashley blushed as soon as she saw me, and immediately went into her room to change.

When she came out, she was dressed as she always did. Certainly not in an outfit that, like, covered her from head to toe, but nothing compared to the slutty remnants of an outfit she’d walked through the door in.

For the rest of the night, we hung out. I got the sense that my sister wanted to tell me something, but I wasn’t sure what. I could have asked her, I guess—now that trusting me was a huge priority, I doubt she would’ve kept it a secret—but I simply wasn’t curious enough for it to be a priority. Instead, I just sat back and waited for her to come to me with whatever she was hiding.

That evening, after Ashley insisted on greeting the pizza delivery guy, she finally said something.

When she returned to the lounge-room, her face was bright red. Her flannel shirt was missing three buttons—not weren’t unbuttoned, completely missing. I worked out later that in her haste to show off her tits to the pizza boy, she’d ripped her top open with such force the buttons had gone flying off. (She’d then manually unfastened the rest to show him her magnificent orbs.)

And I hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. Maybe I need to move ’Awareness Of Women’s Apparel’ up in my own cabinet.

“Jacob,” she said, turning to me with a blush. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

“In my room?”

“Of course,” I gulped, completely failing to sound casual.

If things were going as I’d planned, I was going to head into Ashley’s room and she was going to flash me. Her need for exhibitionism would be so great that it would overwrite anything else…and she’d trust me too much to find it weird.

At least, that was the plan.

When I sat down on the end of Ashley’s bed, I already had a hard-on. I’d been dreaming about this for as long as I could remember—seeing those perfect orbs of hers, those beautiful bouncing breasts that I’d fantasized about for so many shameful nights…

But when she turned to me and started to speak, I realized that something had gone wrong.

My sister wasn’t flashing me. She wasn’t even showing off more skin than normal; as I entered her bedroom, she’d found a safety pin to re-seal the gap in her shirt.

She really did just want to talk. And yeah—it took me way too long to work out what was happening.

“Jacob,” she said hesitantly. “I can…I can tell you stuff, yeah?”

“Of course, sis.” I replied gently, still thinking that this was a prelude to seeing her tits.

“I’ve been…feeling weird today.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause as I mentally willed her shirt off. With Morality such a low priority, you might think I was tempted to just reach out and rip it off…

And you’d be right. I was _tempted_. But there were so many things stopping me—most of all, the all-important Sex With Ashley. If I screwed things up now, that was never going to happen, and that priority was far too high to risk. I couldn’t do anything that would risk screwing it up.

Even forcing my sister to show me her tits.

Finally, Ashley worked up the courage to tell me what was on her mind.

“Have you ever wanted to…show your body off?”

My eyes lit up. This was going exactly where I’d hoped it was.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s pretty hot when people check you out…”

“Exactly!” she replied, far too quickly. “I mean, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to nudge her in the right direction. “Even if it’s to, like, a family member…”

“Ew!”Ashley replied. To my surprise, she sounded genuinely disgusted. “No, not like that. I just mean to…other people. Like, y’know. Strangers.”

I was flummoxed. Like I said, something had gone wrong, but I couldn’t even start to figure out what. I fell silent and let her take the lead.

“I just…I want to know I can trust you. You won’t think I’m a freak if I talk about this kind of thing, will you?”

“Of course not.” At least one of my moves had worked as planned.

“Today, on the bus, I just…I got this overwhelming urge to show off. To, like, the strangers on the bus.”

“Okay…”

“And even the pizza guy. As soon as I knew he was coming, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I got all heated up at the idea, I just wanted to…I dunno. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” I said, trying to make the best out of a bad situation. It was quickly becoming clear that I wasn’t going to see my sister’s tits, but even if that was a lost cause, I could build up some trust—lay some foundation for the future.

I started spinning my own tale of snapchatting with a girl, sending her pictures of my junk and getting shots of her boobs back. As I did, I saw Ashley’s pupils widen—she hung onto my every word, and at one point I caught her biting her lip. It seemed that even _hearing_ about exhibitionism was enough to get her excited.

So why didn’t she want to show me anything?

My sister thanked me for the talk. I decided not to push my luck too far, and just wished her a good night. After leaving her room and going down the hall, I sneaked back and listened at her door.

I may not have much experience with women, but I’ve seen more than my share of porn. And I would bet my right nut that what I could hear from inside my sisters room was the quiet but distinct sound of female masturbation.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

After my folks went to bed that night, I got up and once more entered the strange room full of filing cabinets.

I made a beeline straight for Ashley’s drawer, and was relieved to discover that nothing had changed. I guess everyone’s priorities shift over time, but even though Ashley was obviously freaked out by her newfound need to expose herself, the Exhibitionism folder was exactly where I’d left it.

So why hadn’t she flashed me? None of the folders in front of it had clashing priorities—Trust In Jacob was the only one that I could see which could cause any kind of conflict, but if you want to trust someone, surely showing them your nude body is the best way of ensuring this.

The only thing I could think of was that she was worried that, like, I wouldn’t trust her if she acted strangely? But it hadn’t been a like, nervousness that had stopped her. It had been disgust. Even though I’d made Exhibitionism one of her highest priorities, she clearly had zero interest in exhibiting herself to me.

But why?

My mind was spinning. Curiosity was no longer a priority, but that just meant I wasn’t curious for curiosity’s sake. In this case, Sex With Ashley was driving, and it had a bunch of questions it wanted answered.

I took out my sister’s Exhibitionism folder, and wondered what would happen if I didn’t return it. Would she just become completely unaware of the concept? Or would showing herself off just become a total non-priority?

Answering that question wasn’t going to get me any closer to putting parts of myself inside Ashley, and so I didn’t follow that train of thought any further, instead just opening the folder to see what was inside.

Like many of the other folders, this one contained a few subfolders. In order, they were labeled:

  * Exposure to Strangers
  * Exposure to Acquaintances
  * Exposure to Lovers
  * Exposure to Friends



I found it interesting that Ashley considered exposing herself to strangers and acquaintances a higher priority than lovers. I puzzled on that for a minute, in case that somehow contained the key. Probably because that was just an expected part of the relationship; like how you work harder to get your friends to like you than your family, because your family’s love is just…expected, y’know?

My eyes widened.

Family was missing.

Strangers, Acquaintances, Lovers, Friends. That’s a wide net, but it’s far from every possible relationship in Ashley’s life. To pick one obvious example, it was missing…me.

I opened the ’Friends’ folder to see if there was an ’Exposure To Jacob’ folder nestled in there, but instead I just found further subfolders. ’Exposing Tits’, ’Exposing Ass’, ’Exposing Cleavage’—one for each part of the body.

Where the hell was Family?

Ashley’s new exhibitionistic desires were useless to me if I wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of them. I went to put the folder back, but paused as I decided where it would go.

My sister had become aware of her new fetish; she’d even used to to strengthen the level of trust between us. Moving it now might be suspicious, and if I left it where it was, maybe she’d divulge more to me. The more she trusted me, the less suspicious my actions would be.

I tucked Exhibitionism back where I’d just taken it from, making it one of her top priorities. The advantages of having a sister who obsessively showed off her body were quickly becoming apparent to me.

Making Ashley abruptly start having sex with me was a bad idea, I was sure of that. Hell, just a few hours ago she’d verbally expressed how gross she found the idea of showing off her skin to her family. To suddenly leap from that to making the beast with two backs…yeah, no. It wasn’t going to be that easy. I had the ability to shift her priorities, but I couldn’t erase her memory or just directly implant thoughts into her head.

But I was clearly able to affect my sister’s actions…there was potential there, I was sure of it.

I couldn’t make my sister jump my bones, not directly. But as her interaction with the pizza boy had confirmed, I could definitely make her more of a slut. I already _had_ made her more of a slut.

So what if I pushed that a little further?

She hadn’t seemed disturbed or put off by the fact that she was flashing the delivery man. If anything, she’d been sort of curious about it. Intrigued, y’know? Her first action hadn’t been to freak out, it had been to check with me if there was anything weird about her new desires.

And I’d told her it wasn’t. I’d said that it was totally normal to get off showing your body to other people. And it was so important to Ashley that she trust me, she hadn’t even questioned it.

Upon suddenly being implanted with an intense exhibitionism, my sister had just sort of accepted it.

It made sense, really; the Exhibitionism folder had already existed. It was already a part of my sister’s psyche.

All I’d done was move it up.

And if my sister continued started acting on her newfound desires…I dunno, I had this strong feeling that she wasn’t going to be suspicious. If I built on what was already happening, what Ashley already wanted on some level, if I made my sister even more of a slut, I didn’t think I’d find as much resistance.

Then, once she was showing herself off to _everyone_ , Ashley wouldn’t be nearly as squeamish about showing herself off to me. If everyone in town had seen my sister naked, I’d just be another name on the list.

The idea immediately made me a little uncomfortable. It’s funny; a few days ago, I probably would’ve chalked it up to morality. Y’know, ’it’s just wrong’, that line of thinking.

That wasn’t an easy excuse any more, and I had to really stop and think about why I didn’t like the idea.

First of all, she was my sister—I wanted to have sex with her, not make her the town bike. If everyone knew my sister was a slut, it would…I dunno, reflect poorly on me.

And make her a little more appealing, if I’m being honest. It’s probably a biological thing; we want what others can’t have.

And even beyond that, if I knew my sister was out there fucking half the city, I knew I’d start to get jealous.

I probably should have abandoned the plan. Instead, a smile spread over my face.

The only thing stopping me at this point was my feelings about it. My priorities. And since I’d made Sex with Ashley one of my highest priorities, I wasn’t going to let anything stand in my way—not even myself.

I tucked Exhibitionism back into Ashley’s folder where I’d taken it out, right near the front, and crossed the room to access my own folders. It took me almost twenty minutes, but I managed to find what I assumed would cover jealousy—’Exclusivity With Sexual Partners’—and moved it right to the back. While I was searching, I also stumbled upon ’Family’s Well-being’. I dove into subfolder after subfolder until I found it: ’Ashley’s Reputation’. After quickly browsing its contents to make sure I wasn’t doing anything stupid, that too got relocated to the back of my own drawer.

Returning to Ashley’s drawer, I considered just moving ’Sex’ to the very front, but I knew I had to be careful. When my sister’s exhibitionist traits had blossomed, she’d obviously noticed something was up—fortunately, she didn’t seem to suspect outside influence (why would you?) but if she was suddenly sleeping with everyone in town, I’m pretty sure she’d notice something was up.

Instead, I brought two other folders forward. I wanted to ensure that over the coming weeks, she didn’t get any diseases, or get herself knocked up, so I shifted ’Sexual Health’—which was alarmingly far back—right behind Trust in Jacob; I figured that would ensure she was safe with everyone else, but would happily let me do whatever I wanted with her.

And boy, there was so much I planned to do with her.

The other folder I shifted was a subsection of her ’Money’ folder: Short-Term Wealth.

I also spent a few minutes trying to find ’Exposure To Family’. It definitely wasn’t anywhere to be found within her Exhibitionism folder, and I couldn’t find a trace of it anywhere else. But I had a plan, and if all went well, the location of that folder would quickly become obvious.

Before I left the room, I opened my parent’s drawers. I stared at them for a few minutes; I needed to make sure that they were okay with anything that Ashley and I did (my first thought was to move ’Children’s Well-Being’ to the back, but I immediately realized that could simply result in us getting booted out onto the street).

After a few minutes of thinking, I instead opened their ’Social Norms’ folder, and moved everything that could possibly relate. Presentation Of Children, Offspring’s Public Habits—there were even separate folders for ’Ashley’s Job’ and ’Jacob’s Job’—mine was significantly further forward than hers, I was surprised to notice.

I suppose as the only male, my parents thought it was more important that I do well. ’Ashley’s Boyfriend’ was in a similar position to ’Jacob’s Job’. My parents have always tried to treat us the same, but I guess it’s a generational thing.

I was about to close the drawer when I had a thought. Within ’Children’s Well-Being’, I found ‘Ashley’s Sex Life’ and ’Jacob’s Sex Life’. They weren’t folders, just pieces of paper. On them was written all the stuff that you’d expect: Safe Sex (won’t be a problem any more, Mom and Dad), Consensual, Fulfilling. I considered getting a pen and adding a few items, but I don’t think _anyone_ would remain unsuspicious if Mom and suddenly prioritized getting me and Ashley together.

Instead, I just moved them right to the back. Now, no matter what Ashley and I got up to, our parents wouldn’t care.

Perfect.


	Chapter 5

You’d think that once I found her username, I’d be happy.

And don’t get me wrong—it definitely put a smile on my dial. It cheered me up more than the one and only time I’d actually managed to beat one of my sister’s grades (if I didn’t know from personal experience how damned smart she was, I would have sworn she was sleeping with the teacher).

But happy isn’t the same as satisfied, and so while the site was _great_ , it wasn’t getting me any closer to sleeping with my sister.

Though it sure was fun to look at.

* * *

Three days had passed, and nothing had happened. At least, nothing obvious.

That doesn’t sound long written like that, does it? “Three days had passed.” That’s only four words, it takes what…a second to read?

But when you have to live through them, trust me: three days is agony. It feels exactly like this:

Thhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeee ddaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyysssssss hhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddd paassssssssssseddddd.

Just as long, and just as annoying.

I thought I knew what would happen, when I moved the files around. I’d figured it would be simple—Ashley, now less concerned with her reputation and overly concerned with making some quick bucks, would start looking for a job. And with her newfound need to show off her body to strangers (and acquaintances, lovers and friends), it seemed obvious what kind of job she’d be looking for:

We don’t live in a huge town or anything like that, but we’re big enough to have strip clubs. I’ve never been before (why would I? Porn is just a few clicks away, and if I desperately want to see someone in the flesh, I just have to wait for my sister to bring out her orange bikini) but I knew they existed.

So did Ashley. I thought for sure that I’d put all the pieces in place to get my sister with a four-move checkmate, or however that works. But no matter how many times I left the paper out (my parents still read the paper. Different generation) with the “MAKE CASH NOW” ads for strippers prominently displayed, it didn’t work.

Worse, she wasn’t out there, looking for jobs. She was just spending most of her time in her room with the door locked, playing music.

Three days. It took me three days to work it out.

That’s at least partially because of my reduced curiosity, I guess, but still. Three days!

Thhhhreeee…—it’s okay, I won’t do that again.

On the evening of the third day, I went back into the room. I was trying not to go back in too often—I didn’t want Mom or Dad waking up and finding me in a strange, dusty room, reorganizing their priorities—but I needed to know what was going on.

Short-Term Wealth. It was exactly where I’d left it, right behind the ’Sexual Health’ folder (money’s nice, but herpes is for life). I pulled it out and opened it up to see what I’d missed. Maybe the folder used ’wealth’ to mean family, or friends, or sitting-in-a-room-by-yourself-listening-to-music. I had no idea _why_ it would mean that, but clearly something was up.

Inside the folder there were no subfolders, just sheets of paper. The first one looked like a checklist, or a game plan: it had a bunch of different possible income streams, and they seemed to be ranked.

Win The Lottery was right down the bottom (like I said, my sister’s not dumb. The odds of winning the lottery are about the same as guessing exactly which second of the year I’m thinking of).

(Did you pick month three, day twenty-seven, hour nine, minute forty, thirty-fifth second? Nope? You just lost the lottery.)

Up the top, however, was something that made me want to facepalm harder than I’d ever facepalmed before:

“USCamgirls.com”

Duh.

Duhhhhh.

I quickly found the US Camgirls sheet and had a read. I didn’t really know much about camgirl sites—like I said, porn is free—but it seemed that my sister had found a few different ways to make money from the site. It was genius, really; Ashley could make money showing her body off to strangers without any of the risks.

Putting the folder back in the drawer, I went straight back to my computer and started reading. Camgirl sites are pretty simple: Pretty women use their webcams to stream themselves live to the internet. There’s a little chat so you can send messages and requests, and—here’s the clever part—publicly “tip” you.

What a lot of camgirls will do is set up different types of show; strip show, shower show, “Hitachi” show (a popular kind of vibrator, I worked out), cum show (masturbating on-camera with their fingers) and then not start each show until they reach the requisite number of tips.

For extra money, they’ll also sell their panties and short videos of themselves; solo videos, girl-on-girl, sometimes even girl-guy vids.

Again, not something I’d ever been into, because—and I cannot stress this enough—porn is free. The main reason people use these sites is because of the connection, apparently. The girl is laughing and chatting to _you_ (like a girlfriend experience kind of thing) and that’s worth serious cash to some people.

They can make a lot of money. The top camgirls, my research told me, make something like a million dollars a year.

That’s not an exaggeration. A million dollars a year.

Obviously my sister was just starting out, so she was nowhere near that, but yeah—I could see why she’d started down that path. There are a bunch of different cam sites; it seemed that she’d gone with USCamgirls because of how quickly they paid out. Short Term Wealth.

Within a few months, I knew my sister would be making the big bucks. Probably not a million a year, but with her body? I wouldn’t have been surprised.

I’m pretty sure that I’ve mentioned that my sister is gorgeous, but I’m not sure if I really made it clear. Like, I’m not an incest guy; I exclusively search out that kind of (free) porn or have any interest in my Mom or anything like that. My obsession came from one thing and one thing only: the fact that my sister is _gorgeous_.

She’s is blonde and blue-eyed, with thick lips (not in a slutty way, just in a…well, it’s hard to spend too much time watching my sister’s mouth without imagining it wrapped around certain things) and I don’t know if Ashley sold her soul to the devil for it but she has literally never had a pimple in her life. I know: before puberty hit, I was desperately waiting for something to tease her about, and nothing ever came.

And her body…wow. Expeditions into her underwear drawer have told me that she’s a D-cup, but everything she wears just seems to emphasize her perfect tits. Our pizza guy was a lucky man, I’ll tell you that. She’s got a thin waist, wide hips, and an ass that you could bounce a quarter off. She’s an incredible mover; as well as being amazing at basically every sport she’s ever tried, she did a bunch of jazz hip-hop when she was in high school.

One time when she didn’t know I was home, I caught her dancing in her underwear. It was one of the greatest moments of my life.

She genuinely doesn’t sound real. Hell, I live with her and I struggle to believe that she’s real.

Now you know why I had to have her.

* * *

The next day, I loitered in the hallway until I heard the music come on. Then I ran straight to my computer, loaded up USCamgirls.com and hit the “new” section. There were about a dozen girls, but it was pretty easy to narrow it down. My sister isn’t Asian, for starters.

When I was researching these sites, I’d learned a handful of things about how to put a profile together. Like, they recommend using a picture of your face for your profile pic, to further emphasize the ’real girl!’ thing, but my sister had gone with just a picture of her tits.

Now, before you start thinking of me as ungrateful, believe me—looking at my sister’s tits was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Even if there hadn’t been anything else to the site, just her tits, that would have been a day for the history books.

Her nipples were long and pink and her areolae were surprisingly large. It made me think of a cow’s teats—I have no idea why I found that hot, but I did. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on them.

And then I clicked through to her page, and smiled.

But not for the reason you might expect.

There were a whole heap of people in her chat-room. She hadn’t turned anonymous off, and so she was getting some weird requests (and this is coming from a guy who wants to fuck his sister). A lot of people requesting she show off her feet, for some reason.

But Ashley wasn’t really paying much attention to them. My sister was dancing in the middle of the room, slowly stripping (well, it couldn’t have been that slowly; she’d only been online for a few minutes, and she was already down to panties and the safety pinned button-up shirt she’d been wearing the other night) and just looked like she was having the time of her life.

Her panties were wet, and every now and again she’d stop, glance at the computer and shiver with pleasure.

Ashley was exploring her exhibitionist streak…and loving every minute of it.

But—and here’s what made me smile—my sister was hardly getting any tips at all. Why buy the milk when you can get the cow for free, hey? (It was hard to look at my sister’s tits without cow metaphors springing to mind.) Like don’t get me wrong; she was making money. But it was no more than she’d make if she was…I dunno, stacking shelves or flipping burgers.

My sister needed someone to help her with her newfound career. Someone that she trusted…

I spent the next six hours watching my sister, as she came over and over again. I saw now why she’d left anonymous comments on; it seemed the nastier the suggestions, the more she got off on it. On one hand, it was a pretty incredible experience for me. Not only did I see my sister naked for the first time, I also got to see her:

  * Finger herself to orgasm
  * Use a vibrator on herself to orgasm
  * Spread her legs apart and try to fit a deodorant can inside herself
  * Fuck herself with the deodorant can until she came
  * Cover her tits with honey and try to lick it off, and (in her final ‘show’ for the night):
  * Put clothes pegs on her nipples, spank herself until her ass was red, and then finger herself to orgasm one last time.



It was a hell of a day.

And the whole time, I was taking notes. Jerking off to my sister was less of a priority than fucking her, and my sister had inadvertently given me a clear path to the latter. When she was done, I had five pages of notes and a pair of balls full to the point of bursting.

But even when she stopped, I didn’t.

As soon as my sister turned the camera off, I moved straight into the room of one of the most popular girls on the site (they sort them by how much they earn, not just how many people are watching) and spent a few hours watching her channel and taking still more notes.

I had ideas.

After she finished her show, I finally gave my throbbing testes a break, and brought myself some release.

Again, and again, and again, and again.

I thought I’d jerked off before, but on that day, I think I might have broken some kind of record. So much that I’d been fantasizing about seeing (and so much that I’d never even thought of)…my sister’s body had gone from an object of fantasy to something I saw quivering in pleasure, shown off for a room full of people.

Shown off for me.

Like I said, it was an amazing day.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, a thought struck me; my plan relied on Ashley showing herself off to so many people that her brother was just one more on a long list. My best bet for avoiding suspicion was to transform Ashley into a complete slut, make her morals slip so much that when her aversion to incest disappeared, she barely even noticed.

But camgirling was a mostly solo venture. It involved her sitting in her bedroom, alone. And don’t get me wrong; she was definitely acting more slutty than she would have a week ago, but it wasn’t enough. When it’s just you and a screen and a camera, it doesn’t feel _real_. It’s like a game.

I needed her to get out there and slut it up for real.

On the other hand, her new camming career opened up some pretty interesting doors, and a plan was starting to formulate at the back of my mind. If I went back to plan A and convinced her to get a job at the strip club, I’d be throwing my evening of research away, and my new plan would work—I knew it would.

What to do?

Over dinner, I tried not to act any differently. Fortunately, Ashley looked as exhausted as I felt, and so even if my face somehow conveyed how much I’d seen her do, I don’t think she would have noticed.

“What’d you get up to today, Ash?” Dad asked, chewing the steak that Mom had made for dinner.

“Hung out online,” she said with a smile. “Just chatting to friends, mostly.”

“How about you, Jakey?”

“Yeah, pretty much the same. Found a new site, it’s pretty fun.”

Normally this would be followed by a less-than-subtle reminder that we should be out there looking for jobs, but today it didn’t come. An unexpected perk from my rearrangements. Instead, Dad got up and opened the freezer door.

“What do you want for dessert tonight, guys? Ice-cream? Pie?”

My eyes widened as the solution to my conundrum became obvious, and it was with a huge grin that I replied.

“Why not both?”


	Chapter 6

“Heya Ash.”

“Hey Jake—what’s up?”

“Just wondering what you were up to tonight.”

“Nothing,” she said with a blush, and I couldn’t stop my lips from curling in excitement.

“Okay, cool. Lemme know what time you finish—I’d love to hang out.”

“For sure,” she said, still blushing.

Tonight was the night.

* * *

The moment I’d worked out what I needed to do, I’d nipped to my bedroom for supplies and then gone straight back to the small room beneath the stairs. I hadn’t even waited for everyone to go to sleep; I figured even if someone from my family found me exiting the small, dusty room, they wouldn’t connect it with my sister’s new career as a stripper.

Besides, even if they did catch me, it wasn’t like they were going to ask questions. I’d turned down their curiosity enough to make sure I was indefinitely safe from prying eyes.

Ashley had found a way to deal with the exhibitionist streak I’d given her. She could take care of it in her room, door locked, safe and snug while still getting hundreds of strangers off.

But that wasn’t enough. I wanted her as my own personal slut; I wanted her to be so cavalier about sex that when I suggested myself as a potential partner, she didn’t see a problem with it.

I wanted my sister to sink so low, she’d fuck her own brother without question.

And that meant getting her out there.

Ashley’s drawer was exactly as I’d left it. I went straight to the Exhibitionism folder, and opened the Exposure To Strangers subfolder.

Inside were the same pieces of paper as I’d found in the “Friends” folder—Exposing Cleavage, Exposing Ass, Exposing Tits.

Not what I was looking for.

The order in which Ashley prioritizes exposing her body doesn’t really bother me. No, what I was looking for was something else entirely. Exposing herself in _reality_ , as opposed to exposing herself online.

And since it wasn’t there…it was up to me to add it.

Pulling out the pen and paper I’d grabbed from my room, I had a look at some of the paper already in Ashley’s folders. I had no idea if this would work, but I figured it was worth the risk.

At worst, well…I guess it could have driven her insane, in theory. But it didn’t feel like I was doing anything dangerous. I was just putting pieces of paper into a filing cabinet.

And at best, it got me one more step to fucking her.

As you can see, it was a no-brainer.

In my neatest handwriting (which is, I’ll freely admit, not particularly neat) I wrote ’Exposure To People In Real Life’ on one sheet of paper, and ’Exposure To People Online’ on another. I briefly considered adding a new folder, ‘Exposure To Family Members’, to the cabinet, but now that I’d had a chance to view Ashley’s body through the webcam, seeing it in person wasn’t the driving force it’d once been.

See what I mean? Once we have something, it naturally slips down the priority list.

Besides, Sex with Ashley was my priority, not See Her Nipples Up Close. The risks of adding a ’Family Members’ were too high; she could suddenly start flashing Mom or Dad, or realize that something was up, and go get herself locked up in a mental ward.

This would take a little longer, but it was so much safer. Get her to show off her body at the strip club, get her more comfortable showing off to people in real life. That was the path to success. I was sure of it. And I wanted it all, even if that meant a bit of waiting.

Exposure To People In Real Life went at the start of the folder, and Exposure To People Online at the end. Income was still a high priority, but above them all was Trust In Jacob.

I hoped this would mean she was overcome with the urge to strip publicly, but still keep her side career on US Camgirls alive. I wanted her to have a variety of incomes, all of them related to exposing herself.

I wanted her thinking about sex all the time, day and night.

My sister would be horny, exposing herself every chance she got, and desperate to tell me all about it.

At least, that was the plan.

* * *

“Who’s on tonight?”

The bouncer looked at me strangely. Clearly my attempt to be casual hadn’t really worked—I guess wandering up to a guy you’ve never met before and striking up a conversation is a strange thing to do, but after a glance to size me up, he answered.

“Mindy, Tiffany, Dallas…and a new girl.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, trying to feign nonchalance. Unfortunately, I think it came across like I was a lunatic, and he just nodded in response.

“What’s her name?” I asked, after a pause. He shrugged, and gestured to the bar.

“She’ll know.”

The woman serving drinks was fully-clothed. I don’t know if that’s standard for a strip club (like I said, I’ve never been) and looked friendly enough, but I didn’t want to go over. I don’t know if they’re even meant to let 18-year olds into strip clubs, but I feel like going over to the bar and asking questions would be a good way to get carded and thrown out.

Instead, I wandered to the very back of the room where it was dark, hoping that the lights from the stage would be enough to stop the dancers from seeing me.

I knew my sister was here. I mean, I guess I didn’t _know_ , but her car was parked outside. It was possible that she’d parked here to go to the diner next door, but that seemed unlikely.

The room felt like it was sweating. It was sticky, with a weirdly sweet smell, and if I didn’t know (or at least hope) that my sister was about to walk out on the stage, I would have left and never come back. Not for the first time, I wondered what the appeal was; there are naked girls on the internet, and they aren’t trying to milk you dry of cash.

Well, they are, but in a far less confrontational way.

The music swelled, and the handful of guys dotted around the place turned their attention to the main stage.

“Hey honey. First time?”

I almost jumped out of my skin—to my right, a woman dressed in a green bikini had touched my arm. She was wearing huge, pink, star-shaped earrings, and was wearing her blonde hair in pig-tails.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, and she smiled.

“How’re you finding it?”

“Great,” I replied, and she sat across from me.

She introduced herself (“Dallas”) and we chatted for a few minutes, me worriedly looking around for my sister’s presence the whole time, until she eventually asked if I wanted a private dance.

“Thanks,” I said, “but I’m really not interested.”

I felt awful about it, like I was refusing to tip a waitress, but she just flashed me another sparkling smile and wandered over to the next table, where a portly businessman slipped her a twenty.

The black girl on the stage was doing things with the pole that I didn’t even think possible. Was my sister going to be next, or was she going to come out and do the rounds like Dallas?

I had imagined I’d just find her on the stage, dancing, but I was quickly growing aware of the gaps in my strip club knowledge. Learning about camgirls had been easy; there are dozens of free sites to check out, each of them with thousands of girls and total anonymity.

How was I going to learn how strip clubs worked?

I quickly decided that being here was too much of a risk, and started towards the door. As I approached the bouncer, I heard the next dancer being announced.

“And now, gentlemen, get ready for our newest dancer…Ashley!”

I froze, and slowly turned around, causing the bouncer look at me oddly for the second time that evening.

In my mind, she would be stepping nervously onto the stage. It was her first time; she’d be scared, trepidatious.

Of course, in my mind she’d be using a fake name. I wasn’t bothered, but even if my sister’s reputation had still been a priority for me, I doubt I would’ve even noticed in that moment. All I could think about was the sight in front of me: my sister, confidently striding onto the stage.

I don’t know anything about dancing. All I know is that she’d either been practicing, or they’d run her through some kind of course when she joined the club.

Gone was the listless swaying back and forth from her cam show. No, for the next twenty minutes, Ashley enthusiastically gyrated to the music, wrapping herself around the pole, rhythmically taking off her clothes until she was wearing nothing but a pair of panties.

The crowd loved her just as much as I did; her arousal was evident from the moment she started, and when she removed her bra, letting those huge, beautiful breasts burst free, she faltered for a moment, and I swear she came—a small orgasm, just at the crowd’s reaction to seeing her magnificent tits.

Even though I’d seen her naked (and so much more) I was on the edge of my seat, desperately waiting for her to remove those panties. I wanted to see my sister nude, slick, onstage in nothing but a pair of high heels.

But instead, the music wound down, and my sister left the stage, grinning wildly.

Tempting as it was to stick around and see if she’d return to the stage, perhaps getting fully naked, I slipped out before she could find me hanging around.

At home, I spent the next few hours rewatching some of the footage I’d recorded from the previous day’s stream, and pictured her giving “private dances”—whatever that involved.

* * *

That night, I made sure that I was still up when Ashley got home. Except for the six-inch heels she was carrying, she was dressed like she would be around the house. Her face flushed red when I raised my eyebrows at the shoes in her hand, and she glanced around before leaning in close.

“Jake,” she said softly, “can I tell you a secret?”

For the next half-hour, I sat back and listened as my older sister told me everything. Ashley confessed to getting a job as a stripper, and then when it was clear that I wasn’t going to judge her, told me all about her first shift.

She was so hyper. She just sat on the end of her bed, gushing about how much she’d enjoyed the experience. All those strangers’ eyes on her, appreciating her body, admiring her skill. She didn’t go into any sexual details, but it was clear that just telling me about it was starting to get her a bit worked up.

I still had no idea what happened during a private dance—even in her manic state, my sister maintained some discretion—but the fact that she was new, combined with her clear enjoyment of the work had apparently resulted in more requests than any of the other girls; a “new record” for a weeknight, apparently.

If Ashley wasn’t careful, she was quickly going to make some stripper enemies.

It quickly became clear that Ashley was still pretty worked up from it all. A part of me was screaming “Make a move, make a move!” but I held back. ’Sex’ was still a low priority for my sister, and ‘Sex With Jacob’ likely didn’t even exist in her folder.

And so instead, I just nodded, smiled, and listened to her as she slowly wound down. Eventually, she yawned and excused herself. We both went into our rooms, and I was about to drift off when I heard it.

Music.

Coming from my sister’s room.

It seemed that the evening’s work hadn’t been enough for Ashley to completely burn off her exhibitionist need—or perhaps by creating the new piece of paper I’d doubled her urges—but I moved to my computer so quickly I’m surprised I didn’t leave a Jacob-shaped cloud of dust, and logged onto the USCamgirls site.

Sure enough, my sister had just opened up her channel. Through the walls I hadn’t recognized it, but coming out of my laptop it was crystal clear: the song that Ashley was playing was the same one I’d seen her strip to, her first song of the night.

For the second time that evening, I sat and watched as my sister slowly disrobed. This time, however, there were two major differences: firstly, I was able to pull my pud as I did.

And secondly, my sister didn’t stop when she reached her dripping panties. As she pulled them off, revealing the fact that she’d shaved since her last show (presumably another requirement of the club), she began to talk, sharing the details of her shift.

A private dance, I learned from her gasping explanation, had pretty strict rules. You take them into a side room, and the client can only touch the dancer on the hips or waist (or, if you’re servicing a woman, the boobs. I have no idea why there are different rules for women).

The dancer, however, can touch the client wherever they like. And Ashley had been so worked up, she’d taken full advantage of this rule.

She didn’t describe any of her clients. From the way she was talking about them, you’d assume they were sexual gods, but I’d been in the club, and the only clientele I’d seen looked like losers; guys who were too old, fat or ugly to get a real girlfriend.

Apparently her exhibitionist tendencies didn’t discriminate, however. A set of eyes was a set of eyes, and that was all my sister needed to get all hot and bothered.

And so when Ashley had gotten her first private dance, the sight of him unzipping his pants and revealing how hard she’d made him had turned her on so much, she’d forgotten herself, and reached out to jerk him off.

Just knowing that my sister was so turned on from exposing herself that she’d jerk off a stranger was pretty hot, but hearing it directly from the horse’s mouth (so to speak)—watching her grope her tits with one hand and rub herself with the other, while she pantingly described the experience…

Wow.

Apparently she’d had the foresight to aim his cock away from her when he came (which didn’t take long). Returning to the floor covered in cum would probably have gotten her in trouble. And though he tipped _extremely_ generously, she didn’t spend the evening jerking guys off; she’d behaved more professionally with the others, just slowly getting more and more worked up as the night went on.

Driving home, she’d had to pull to the side and get herself off. I briefly considered hiding in the back seat next time she had a shift, but quickly realized how pointless that plan was. Now that I knew her channel, I could watch my sister get off any time.

Still…being in the room as she did was pretty tempting. The sounds, the smells…

My sister’s show lasted an hour before she started to fade, and headed to bed. She came half a dozen times. The shift at the strip club had really gotten her worked up, and it was by far the hottest show _I_ had ever seen, but the tips still weren’t coming in as fast or strong as they should have.

As I shut down my laptop and began to drift off, I smiled. Everything was going exactly as I’d planned—better, in fact. A few small tweaks, and my sister wouldn’t just be jerking off men at the club, she’d be fucking them. Soon enough, she’d trust me enough to let me help with her cam shows, and then I _would_ get to watch her get herself off.

Not only watch, but offer advice. She’d obey my every suggestion, masturbate exactly how I told her to, and from there…

From there, it was only a few small steps to being my complete sexual slave.

I couldn’t wait.


	Chapter 7

As my sister openly sobbed, it was hard not to smile.

Not that I didn’t deserve to celebrate; it had taken me the better part of two weeks to get all the pieces into place, but it was worth it.

She was totally distraught…and had turned to me for comfort.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, trying to mask the glee in my voice. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I just…I just don’t know what came over me.”

_Half a dozen men,_ I privately thought, holding back a chuckle.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You were just a little tightly wound; everyone loses control sometimes.”

“I mean it,” she said, looking up at me with two red eyes. Even while she was sobbing, she managed to look sexy. I genuinely have no idea how she did it. “I couldn’t help myself. It was like I wasn’t in control of my body.”

Crap. May have overdone it a little bit there.

“There, there,” I said, patting her head and pulling her to my chest. “It was just a moment of weakness. I’m sure that by tomorrow, everything will be back to normal.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sure you’re right.”

I was. By the morning, the file would be back in place, and the night’s events would be explained away as a freak incident, never to be repeated.

At least, I hoped.

* * *

In accordance with their programming, Mom and Dad never even questioned Ashley on where she was every night. If they had, and she’d told them, I was pretty sure that they wouldn’t even mind.

It’s interesting; no matter how much you change someone’s priorities, they still remain _them_ underneath. Mom and Dad had gone from high-pressure, inquisitive and actively involved parents to disinterested figures who just enjoyed our company…but if I hadn’t been looking for it, I don’t know that I would have noticed the difference.

Mom still told awful jokes, Dad still spent way too much time at the office. I guess those were things I could have changed if I’d had a reason, but I suspected that even if I moved Mom’s desire to be funny down in the priority list, and made Dad want to impress his bosses less…they’d still be _them_ , y’know?

What makes us us? That was the kind of question that would have kept me awake all night, once upon a time, but with my reduced curiosity it was pretty easy to dismiss.

Instead, I focused on my sister.

Each night followed the same routine. She’d disappear after family dinner and come back in the early hours of the morning. I guess I didn’t technically _see_ her go to the strip club, but she came back each night carrying a pair of six-inch pumps, smelling like shame and cheap perfume, so yeah; I doubt she was moonlighting as a crappy Catwoman.

As soon as she returned, the music would start, and I could log on to see her naked, performing all manner of lewd acts.

Her clientele was growing, at both locations. She never mentioned specific numbers to me, but I checked out her filing cabinet a couple of times and she was starting to make serious bank at the strip club.

Imagine if Jessica Rabbit came to life as a blonde and started getting off on stripping. Yeah, it wasn’t a huge surprise to work out why she was pulling so much dough.

What _did_ surprise me was how much her camgirl audience was growing. Like I said, she wasn’t doing much “right”. S would strip off pretty much straight away; no teasing, no begging for tips. Then she’d just get off while talking about her shift.

I mean, I guess it’s not totally crazy. She was hugely attractive (as I may have mentioned) and she was breaking the whole camgirl paradigm—she genuinely didn’t seem to care about the money. The strip club was fulfilling all her financial needs and so the camgirling was just to get off in front of strangers.

And that’s what gave me the idea.

See, I have a theory. As our needs are met and filled, our priorities shift. If I desperately wanted a girlfriend, after I get one I’m obviously going to prioritise that less, right? That’s why people break up; if everyone spent as much effort on _keeping_ a girlfriend as they did on getting one, there’d be a lot more happy couples in the world.

So in my filing cabinet, ’Having A Girlfriend’ would slowly shift backwards over time…until we broke up, at which point it would probably leap forward again.

That wasn’t happening with Ashley.

As her short-term income went up, you would normally expect to see the ’Short-Term Wealth’ file drifting backwards. If the need is met, it’s not as much of a priority any more, right?

But I checked it every day or two, and it never moved. Instead, the “goal”—how much wealth would make her happy—kept increasing and increasing.

Maybe this is just a natural part of wanting to be rich. I mean, you never see a billionaire go “Okay, I’ve got enough money now.” People keep wanting more and more, even as they blast past their previous goals.

But I suspect that’s not what was happening. At least, that’s not _all_ that was happening.

I’d bet that it was my fault. Since I’d been the one to move the folder, it wasn’t going to move again until I made it. And so I’d put my poor sister into this loop; even as she was making more and more money at the club, she didn’t take fewer shifts. She just kept on working, watching her income go up, always wanting more.

And it wasn’t just money. The more she exposed herself, the greater her exhibitionist itch grew. That was why she kept on camgirling: there was a maximum audience at the strip club (the number of people that fit in the building, obviously) whereas camgirls could be seen by thousands.

Hundreds of thousands, if they got big enough.

The end result was that Ashley used the two outlets to scratch different itches. Her increased viewership online hadn’t led to more money, so she just did whatever she could to get more views…and her fans at the club weren’t going to suddenly increase by a factor of ten, so she focused her efforts on milking them for as much as she could.

And so despite getting off in front of thousands, and earning more than I knew a stripper could even make, my sister found herself constantly frustrated. She wanted to expose herself to more people, and she wanted mo’ money.

The plan was simple. The best part was, for the first few weeks, I didn’t need to do anything. I just kept watching her target income rise and her urge to flash people grow. Even after a full night at the club and a two-hour show, I knew she was desperate to expose herself to more people. When she thought I wasn’t home, she’d started answering the door naked, or putting on a bit of a show for our neighbor.

He’s 78 years old. Like I said, exhibitionist tendencies don’t discriminate.

Then, when she was starting the climb the walls with frustration…that’s when I’d executed the second phase of my plan.

One Sunday night, I’d moved two files in my sister’s filing cabinet. Her ’Orgasm’ priority was shifted way, way up…and both ‘Sex’ and ‘Masturbation’ way down. ’Sex’ went at the very back of the cabinet, and ’Masturbation’ wasn’t much higher.

The idea was to make her desperate to cum, at all hours of the day…but uninterested in getting herself off, or getting off with someone else.

Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen. The goal was just to make her constantly horny, but it really could have done anything. Maybe she’d learn to cum just from thinking about it, or get off from people watching without needing to touch herself. Maybe she’d masturbate out of necessity. Like in my cabinet: ’Personal Grooming’ had been quite low, but if I wanted to impress a girl (or my parents were forcing me) it was absolutely something I’d do.

Obviously unless it was on camera, I had no idea if my sister was getting herself off or not, but I can tell you; over the next few days, her cum shows were almost entirely replaced with her just dancing, showing off her body, and taking requests (I got far too excited when my “put on your old school uniform” suggestion was accepted. Man did _that_ take me back).

Then, at the end of the following week—Saturday night, her biggest shift of the week—exactly an hour after she left for work, I went back into the tiny room beneath the stairs.

And I moved ’Sex’ to the very front of her drawer, behind only ‘Air’, ‘Water’, and ‘Food’.

* * *

Ashley looked out at the crowd, licking her lips.

She wanted to fuck them.

All of them.

No, that wasn’t right. She _needed_ to fuck them. She had never been so sure of anything in her whole life.

She didn’t care that she was just starting her shift, she didn’t care that she’d get in trouble. In that moment, all she needed—more than anything—was to get their dicks hard and get them inside of her.

Her tongue passed over her lips again, and she looked around cautiously. She was horny—she’d been horny all week—but she wasn’t stupid. If she leapt off the stage and started straddling people, she’d get kicked out (or worse; arrested) and then she wouldn’t get to fuck anyone.

No, if she was going to do this (and she definitely was) then she was going to have to play it smart.

Step one, dance. As well as she could, to get those cocks nice and hard, so she could lower herself down on them, so she could feel them inside her…so she could cum around them and make them cum as well.

_Focus, Ashley,_ she told herself, and forced her attention outward.

For the last week, she’d been so turned on— _so_ turned on—and yet strangely unmotivated to do anything about it. She’d only cum twice in the week, when the urge had grown so strong that she couldn’t hold back any longer. Even then she hadn’t reached between her legs, or found someone to do it for her; she’d just ground herself against the couch in jeans, the feeling of the stiff material against her throbbing wetness enough to bring her to orgasm.

A few days ago, just for a moment, she’d wondered if she was asexual, or going through some kind of weird early menopause. First the sudden exhibitionist streak, then the desperate focus on money…and then the endless arousal and total lack of interest in finding a man to take care of it for her.

_It’s probably just my birth control being strange,_ she’d told herself, and not thought about it any further.

But now…this sudden animalistic desperation to be fucked. She felt like a creature in heat, willing to take any cock that she could get.

_What’s happening to me?_ she briefly wondered, but then the music shifted, and her focus went back to what she was doing with her body…and how the audience was reacting to it.

“Yessss…” she whispered, unable to hold it back. Several men were throwing money at the stage, and she knew what that meant. They wanted her.

They all wanted her.

And tonight, they would have her.

* * *

“So when did they catch you?” I asked, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible.

“About halfway through my shift,” Ashley replied, blowing her nose on the tissue I’d just handed her. “I must have fucked a dozen guys before someone told the manager what I was up to.”

_At once?_ I wanted to ask, but I knew I couldn’t. She trusted me, but asking too many questions was sure to raise her defenses. Instead, I just smiled, and for a moment my sister glanced up at me.

I tried to keep my gaze as innocent as possible, but I needn’t have worried. It wasn’t a look of suspicion that she was throwing in my direction…it was one of lust.

It only lasted a second, and it immediately disappeared, but my heart leapt with joy. Even after being sacked and kicked out of the club, even after being escorted home by two police officers (whom I was certain she had tried to seduce), my sister _still_ needed to be fucked.

And as the only male in the vicinity, she’d turned to me. Just for a second before the thought was gone, but it was working.

I was on the way.


	Chapter 8

It was lucky that I decided to log on and watch my sister’s show that night.

If I hadn’t, if I’d just gone to my bedroom (as I was thinking of doing) and waited for my sister to go to sleep so I could readjust her filing cabinet, I would have missed it.

But—as you can imagine—I was pretty turned on by the conversation we’d just had, by the image of my sister fucking half a dozen strangers at the club.

At the look she’d inadvertently shot me…and at the knowledge that all of it, all of it was because of me.

And so, unsurprisingly, I’d decided to jerk off. And when I heard the music coming from my sister’s room, I knew exactly what I wanted to jerk off to: my sister’s body, coming live from just a few feet away. She’d probably be breathily describing her night again, and hell…I was more than happy to jerk off to that.

Instead, when I logged on, I was surprised to find she’d changed the room’s description. It normally read “Ashley’s sexy dances” or “Ashley’s hot room” (like I said, she’s terrible at the marketing side of camgirling).

Tonight, it read “Want to fuck me? Make a bid—I’ll cum to you.”

No!

No no no no no.

_No._

I leapt out of bed, and ran straight into the filing cabinet room. I was in such a hurry that I left the door open—if anyone had walked into the hallway, they would have had a clear sight of me, frantically flipping through dusty files in a mysterious room that none of us had ever been inside before.

Fortunately for me, no one did, but jesus. What could have happened that night still gives me chills.

As soon as I got to ‘Sex’, I moved it back to approximately where I’d originally found it. At some point, when _I_ was the one Ashley was having sex with, I’d move it back up to the front of the cabinet…but for now, I was more than happy with my sister having a normal, healthy sex drive.

It took me a few minutes to find—minutes I would have much rather spent checking the chatroom to make sure that Ashley had changed the message—but soon enough I laid my hands on Personal Safety, and made sure to move that quite close to the top of the list, above even Short-Term Wealth.

Personal Safety is a broad concept, but rather than flip through the file and work out exactly what it contained, I wanted to check on my sister. For now, it would (hopefully) mean that she wasn’t driving to random dude’s houses and having sex with them.

Slamming the cabinet shut (another stupid move; it could easily have woken up our parents, or attracted Ashley’s attention) I left the tiny room, closed the door, and sprinted back to my room.

Almost as soon as I sat down, she changed the room’s description to “Sexy lady dances” (I’m guessing ’using your real name online‘ falls under ‘Personal Safety’, as it should).

“Sorry boys,” she said with a sexy pout. “Not tonight.”

The rest of the show was a fairly generic dance show, and as I came while watching my sister’s swaying body, my mind was racing.

That had been close. My sister had been all-too-willing to go to a stranger’s house and fuck them for money…and, after all, why not? With her body, with her enthusiasm, she could make an absolute _killing_.

’Personal Safety’ had prevented her from following through on this haphazard plan, but hell—maybe she’d find a brothel in town, one where they took care of the whores.

I had no personal issue with my big sister becoming a sex worker, except that it wasn’t part of _my_ plan. The plan that ended with her as my personal sex slave.

(After jerking off, I spent about half an hour brainstorming scenarios, seeing if I could somehow work my sister becoming a whore into the plan, but I couldn’t come up with any way my sister would be cool with me turning up to the brothel. No, better to nip this in the bud early.)

Fortunately, when my sister’s show ended and the music stopped, the solution presented itself pretty quickly. Heading back into the tiny room (stealthily, this time) and flipping through my sister’s files, I quickly found ‘Getting Caught Breaking The Law’.

I moved that up. Not far enough that it’d control her life, but certainly far enough that it would stop her from becoming a prostitute.

This would probably mean the end of her joining me to watch freshly-downloaded Game of Thrones episodes, but that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

It could be an issue if she assumed that incest was illegal (it’s actually not in Connecticut, something I’d learned from independent research a few months ago) but I figured avoiding getting caught having sex with her brother would probably be a high priority whether or not it was legal.

And if that didn’t fix it, I could always just scrawl ‘Knowledge Of Local Incest Laws’ onto a piece of paper and inserting it into her cabinet.

(I didn’t, not yet—I can’t imagine anything that would raise more suspicion that an inexplicable burning desire to learn the laws of boinking your brother…but if all went to plan, it would be something she’d be keen to learn soon enough.)

Hoping that I’d protected myself against all contingencies, I went to bed.

The next day, I planned to implement the next step of my plan.

* * *

“Ashley, I know about the site.”

My sister froze, her hand halfway towards bringing a piece of toast to her mouth. Our parents had gone to work, and we had the house to ourselves.

“What site?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, and I shot her a look.

“C’mon,” I said, and she immediately buckled.

“Right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, hoping that laying it on thick would be effective. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” she rushed to answer. “I just…I dunno, I didn’t want it to be weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Well, I mean, my room is just at the other end of the hall. I didn’t want you to feel…uncomfortable, I guess.”

I nodded. What she said made enough sense, but I didn’t really care what her reasoning was; I just needed to make sure to strengthen our ‘share everything’ bond.

“I thought you didn’t trust me,” I said, putting on a sad face, and she practically leaped across the table to give me a hug.

“Of course I do!” she said, and I returned the hug, desperately fighting the urge to bury my head into my sister’s soft, plentiful cleavage.

“Okay,” I said, trying to sound casual. “So…tell me about it.”

I don’t know if I’m just good at manipulating my sister or if it was the way I’d known exactly which buttons to press…or hell, if she was just desperate to talk to _someone_ about it, but for the next two hours, she told me everything.

I just nodded and listened as she went into what anyone else would have considered an uncomfortable level of detail, and when she eventually ran out of steam, I spoke up.

“Have you had much success?”

“Mmmmm,” she said, pouring herself another cup of tea. “Sort of. I mean, I have a bunch of fans and viewers. I just, I dunno, don’t really seem to make much money.”

I tried not to let my glee show. Everything was going exactly as I’d planned; she was really feeling the missing income from the strip club, and my most recent folder-meddling had eliminated any other easy ways to make money from her body.

“You know,” I said, staring her straight in the eyes, “…I could help you with that.”

* * *

Over the next few weeks, my sister let me slowly take over every aspect of her camgirl site.

I never explained how I’d gotten so much knowledge about camgirl sites, and Ashley never asked.

She just trusted me.

Admittedly, when I managed to almost double her income in a single night, that trust was well-earned. Even if I hadn’t ensured that trusting her little brother was a high priority, I’m pretty sure she would have been willingly letting me run the site for her in no time.

At first, I was fairly hands-off. I shifted ‘Masturbation’ to the front of her folder again, which helped. For a while now, her shows had just been stripping and swaying. With self-pleasure a priority again, people would happily pay to watch my sister get off.

I’d suggest key phrases she could use; I taught her the stripping system, where instead of just logging in and taking all your clothes off, you only take your shirt off once a certain number of tokens have been met, then the same for your pants, panties, bra…

All of this was done in the abstract, at least for the first week. As you’d expect, she felt pretty weird about me seeing her naked body, and no matter how much I searched her cabinet, I couldn’t find _anything_ that would help me in that regard. No ‘Preventing Family From Seeing Nudity’, no ’Modesty’—the closest I could get was her Exhibitionism folder, and I searched the subfolders and the sub-subfolders almost a dozen times before eventually realizing that nope, family just wasn’t covered.

From what I could work out, when I shifted ’Exhibitionism’ up, it must have automatically shifted ’Modesty’ way, way down. So far that I couldn’t find it; her drawer was, after all, infinitely long, and there’s only so much time you can spend flipping through abstract and unnecessary priorities (’Bees’, ‘The Glare On The TV Matching Up With The Shine On A Bald Character’s Head’, ‘Rice Krispies Making A Neat Little Circle Around The Spoon’) before being forced to call it a night.

(It was funny—after about three hours of searching one night, I opened my own folder to find ‘Sleep’ had shifted to just behind ‘Sex With Ashley’. Twenty minutes later, when I felt my drowsiness overcome me, I checked again…sure enough, it had moved ahead of it.)

Eventually, all I could do was conclude that ‘Modesty Around Families’ must have been in a different folder—after all, her exhibitionism folder didn’t include me or Mom or Dad.

I dunno. All I could tell you was that it was incredibly frustrating, and after spending almost every night going through files, I was starting to get pretty sick of it.

Fortunately, my time _outside_ of the little room was much more interesting. Ashley never asked how I found out about her side-project (thanks, I assumed, to the new position of her ’Curiosity’ folder) and she refused to tell me what her username was, so I knew she had no idea that I was watching all of her performances in that first week.

It turned out that Ashley had—entirely by accident—cultivated a great base to make money from. They were so used to seeing everything ( _everything_ ) she had to offer, and so when she started setting targets, they were quick to pull out their wallets and drop tokens until she was naked, and then drop tokens until she was dancing, and then drop tokens until she was cumming…

At my advice, she started learning the names of her regular clients and acting excited whenever they came online, and making sure to pay extra-special attention to the biggest tippers. She even tried going into a private room once or twice for big tips, but quickly worked out that with the crowds she was drawing, she could always make more money in the big room, especially as her numbers would drastically drop whenever her stream was replaced by a “Sorry, currently doing a private chat” screen.

By the end of the first week, she was hanging on my every word, desperate to use my knowledge to make as much money as possible—more, more, always more.

And that was when I told her; to help any more than this, I’d have to be able to see her show.

That shut her up. She spent almost three days, trying to decide whether it was worth letting her little brother see her naked—no, not just naked; masturbating for the crowd—in exchange for the possibility of making more money.

In the end, I had to bump the folder up, until it was the sixth folder in her drawer—Air, Water, Food, Shelter, Trust in Jacob…and Short-Term Wealth.

The next day she came to me, red-faced, and told me what her username was.

That night, as she did her show, we had a chat program open. I was able to offer advice live, and while it didn’t make as much of a difference as my earlier advice had, it clearly made a difference. My sister set a new record that night.

For the rest of the week, she couldn’t even make eye-contact with me, but every night she’d let me know when she was going online, desperate to get my real-time advice on her show.

When I wasn’t watching my sister’s show (which, at my advice, had been severely shortened—no more all-nighters. A shorter show meant more concentrated tips, which meant a higher ranking, which meant more exposure) or going through her files, I was either sleeping or watching other cam-girls. Good performers, bad performers—anything I could learn from.

I had started to run out of advice to give, but whenever I saw a high-earner I was able to grab at least a few tips to pass onto my sister, and watching awful performers meant that I could solidify my advice on what to _avoid_ doing.

At my suggestion, my sister switched camgirl sites, changed her username, bought a Hitachi and tailored her show to match my every piece of advice. She’d started obeying my every command…only as it related to her show, sure, but it gave me a real taste of what was to come.

But until she grew more comfortable with me seeing her perform, we couldn’t progress. I’d thought that she’d have gotten used to it, but even after two weeks she still blushed every time she approached to tell me that she was about to go on cam, and she continued avoided eye-contact the next morning.

I could have waited it out, but my patience was running out. It had been several months since I’d found the filing cabinets. I’d thought by now I’d be balls-deep in my future, and while I appreciated how far I’d come, I wanted so much more.

I couldn’t wait eight years for this story to conclude. It was time to take drastic measures and make a bold move.


	Chapter 9

I took a deep breath before placing the hand-written note into my sister’s drawer.

It wasn’t strictly necessary. It was a big risk. But I’d been so cautious for so long, and I’d spent hours thinking about it, trying to think of possible negative outcomes, and the worst-case scenarios I could imagine weren’t _that_ bad.

And so I’d done it.

Inside the ’Trust in Jacob’ folder, the fifth-highest priority in my sister’s life, was a new file. It simply read ’Comfort With Nudity Around Jacob’

Now, technically this didn’t cover me seeing her shows through the computer…but that was fine. I’d seen her shows. I’d been watching them almost since she’d started.

Now, I wanted something more. I wanted to be in the _room_ while she performed.

Keep in mind, writing something on a piece of paper doesn’t magically make it happen. Shifting ’Sex With Ashley’’ hadn’t meant that my sister’s legs were suddenly wrapped around me on a daily basis; it just meant that it was a priority, something I was going to put daily effort into turning into reality.

Similarly, my new addition to Ashley’s folder didn’t mean that she’d suddenly be cool with me seeing her topless…but it _did_ mean that she’d prioritize it, and work towards being more comfortable around me while naked.

I considered adding a second file—‘Comfort With Sexual Acts Around Jacob’—but it didn’t feel necessary, and it added the risk that she’d start bringing guys home and blowing them in front of me or whatever.

For a few different reasons, this was something that I didn’t want happening.

Plus, honestly…the idea of her being embarrassed to masturbate in front of me (but doing it anyway, if all went to plan) was kind of hot. I don’t know why I found that such a turn-on, and I didn’t have the inclination to try to puzzle it out.

The first day, I didn’t see any changes. I guess part of becoming comfortable with something is simply thinking about it, giving it time to sit right, and I’d guess that’s what Ashley spent the first day doing.

The second day, she walked past me in a towel. That might not seem like a big deal—it sort of wasn’t—but it was new, and I definitely noticed. And I think she noticed me noticing.

The third day, she walked into my room in a towel. This was much more striking. She just wanted to hang out; there was no reason why she couldn’t have gotten dressed and _then_ come in, but instead she deliberately hung out in my room for a towel for like, two hours.

Baby steps.

The fourth day, she sat down (fully clothed) and asked me the question I’d been waiting to hear.

“Jacob,” she said, avoiding eye-contact. “Would it…would it be helpful if you were in the room while I performed?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to sound as eager as I felt. “I mean, y’know. It’d be weird, of course.”

“Of course,” she replied, as quickly as I’d said ‘Yes’.

“But yeah, it’d be super helpful. There’s some stuff with lighting, angles—I can’t really help much unless I see you all set up.”

“Right,” she said thoughtfully. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

It didn’t. Not really. But her trust in me was so high, and her desperation to be comfortable naked around me had meant that she hadn’t even questioned my bullshit excuse.

“When are you next streaming?”

“Tonight? I mean, if you think that’s a good idea.”

I hemmed and haw’d for a second, before agreeing that yeah, that would probably be a good time.

I mean, honestly, it was all I could do to avoid suggesting that we stream right now immediately right now yes please.

That night, I was hanging out in my sister’s room when her alarm went off.

“Oh!” she said, as if she hadn’t been obsessively counting down the minutes until her show started. “Oh, that’s…it’s time.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, doing an equally poor job of sounding casual about the whole thing. “Yeah, it’s time for your show.”

“So do you wanna…”

Ashley trailed off, and I threw her a grin.

“Relax, sis,” I said, hoping to god that I sounded smooth. “I mean, it’s just work. It’s not like I’ve never seen your show before.”

“Yeah,” she said, after a deep breath. “Yeah. You’re totally right.”

“Just pretend I’m not here. Focus on your audience, yeah? That’s where the money is.”

“Of course,” she nodded.

I gotta admit, I could get used to my sister hanging onto my every word, obeying my every suggestion.

Soon enough, I told myself. Soon enough.

Ashley’s show that night was spectacular. I mean, obviously I was a little biased…but based on the tip jar, it truly was one of the best shows she’d ever done.

To my delight (and very minor disappointment), she actually did what I said, and focused on the audience. The only time she even glanced my way was when she was removing her bra…but as soon as she removed it and her glorious boobs dropped into view, she was basically making love to her webcam with a laser focus.

It was amazing to watch. I had my laptop open, so I could simultaneously see what she was doing in real life, and glance at my computer to see her attention wholly focused on ‘me’. It was absolutely one of the best shows she’d ever done, and by far the hottest thing I’d ever, ever seen.

Ever.

The entire experience was magnified by being there, by being in the room with her. The sounds that her computer didn’t pick up, the angle, the smells…oh god, the smells.

Not just pulling my dick out and jerking off was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. When she pushed her Hitachi up against her clit, and started shaking and moaning in orgasm…fuck, every instinct in my body was screaming “Do it! Do it now!”

But I couldn’t. Hell, there was a chance I would’ve gotten with it…after all, my sister _was_ trying to get used to nudity with her brother. And in that moment, she’d be so turned on… _and_ she was an exhibitionist.

But the chances were low, and it absolutely wasn’t worth the risk. I had a plan, and I was going to stick to it. Nothing was worth the risk of screwing _that_ up, no matter how tempting it was, no matter how likely I felt it was to succeed…

I had a timeline, and I was going to follow it. Anything else lowered my chances of turning my perfect, sexy, orgasmic sister into my own personal sex slave.

Nothing would ever be worth throwing that away.

After the show was done, I was worried there would be some awkwardness. After all, there I was, fully-dressed, while my sister was totally nude, sweating, with a dripping wet pussy.

But after she said goodbye to her followers (exactly as I’d coached her), she turned to me with a huge smile.

“Any notes?”

Like I said, the show was pretty much perfect. But I didn’t want to risk being booted out, not when she was sitting there comfortably naked, hanging on my every word.

And so for the next forty minutes or so I proceeded to ramble about lighting, and resolution, and phrasing. I didn’t give her any objectively _bad_ advice, but even if she took all of it, I doubted it would have much of an effect on her tips.

She nodded and smiled and jotted down occasional notes. Finally, when I was totally out of advice to give (or make up), I stopped.

“Thanks,” she said sincerely, and I nodded in response.

“What are brothers for?”

There was a brief silence, and we laughed at the absurdity of what I’d just said.

“Hey,” I said, jumping in before the laughter could end and cause an awkward pause. “You know, the best way to learn this kind of stuff is to check out some other channels. Have you watched many others?”

“Just the ones you recommended,” she said.

“Come up here and we’ll find some and watch them now.”

I tried not to act like I was holding my breath. I hoped that my suggestion had sounded as casual as I’d wanted it to. I froze as she tilted her head to the side and considered my suggestion…and silently breathed a huge sigh of relief as she clambered onto the bed next to me.

She was naked. My sister was buck naked, had just coated her sex toy with her juices as she explosivelt came, and was lying next to me on the bed…getting ready to watch girls strip.

If you’d told me this would have happened a year ago, I never would have believed you. But here it was, happening.

We ended up watching camgirls until about three in the morning. I was the one to call it a night; I saw my sister almost fall asleep once or twice. If I’d been in her cabinet, I bet I would’ve seen her ‘Sleep’ folder jumping back and forth over ‘Comfort With Nudity Around Jacob’. I told her that we’d hang out the next day, and returned to my room.

As you can imagine, I didn’t get to sleep until I’d dirtied several tissues, many hours later.

* * *

After that, my sister hanging out in the nude became a regular thing. I actually had to go in and mess with my parent’s files again; their curiosity was plenty low, but I was still worried they’d think something was up if they wandered in to find Ashley sitting naked on my bed. I made sure that the door was closed whenever I was in a room with my naked sister, and I modified my parents’ cabinets to make ’Children’s Privacy’ a high, high priority.

Sometimes she’d wander in with a towel, and casually drop it as soon as the door was closed—if our parents were out, she’d just wander around the house naked generally.

As well as that, she’d always invite me to come and watch her shows live.

This might surprise you, but sometimes I’d decline. I knew that if I went and watched her live, it would be hours before I got to jerk off—after the show, we’d hang out on the bed and watch camgirls (there’s always some on, and you can always learn something new—even from the bad ones. Especially from the bad ones.)

As much as I loved hanging out with my naked, flushed, only-just-came sister, it sometime caused…build-up. Frustration. Blue balls. Sometimes I just wanted to jerk off while watching her strip. I’d gotten used to timing my orgasms with hers, and watching her cum without being able to even show that I was aroused was…yeah, frustrating.

After the first week, to my surprise, she sometimes went back to hanging out with me fully-clothed. I guess that at that point, she’d proved to herself (or to me) that she was comfortable with it. Her Comfort With Nudity Around Jacob priority was…not sated, exactly, but no longer something she had to prove.

I guess if you’re making a point of hanging out naked with someone, it’s not something you’re ’comfortable’ doing. Don’t get me wrong; I still saw plenty of my sister’s nude body (even outside of her shows), but it was no longer constant.

At the end of the second week, I think she genuinely stopped even noticing if she was naked around me or not.

That’s when I started wearing less and less around her.

At first it was just a shirt unbuttoned, or—following her lead—wearing a towel. Then I spent half a day shirtless. For the first hour or so she seemed a little uncomfortable, but she quickly loosened up.

Comfort With Nudity Around Jacob, I figured, would work both ways.

One day, she was sitting naked on my bed when I did it. I got up and stripped.

“Jacob!” she said, and then immediately tried to sound chill. “Uh, what’re you…”

“Just getting changed,” I said, shooting her an odd look. Y’know, like _she_ was the one being weird. True to my word, I got dressed again. Baby steps.

The next day, I entered my room wearing a towel. She was sitting on my bed fully-dressed, watching a camgirl that I’d recommended (doing this thing where she encouraged people to send ‘waves’ of tokens—we were trying to work out if it was worth clogging up the chatroom or not). I dropped the towel, and sat beside her.

Her eyes widened, and her body stiffened slightly, but she didn’t say anything, even when I leaned in and pointed at the custom emoticon that the camgirl had set up, pressing my naked chest against her bare back (she was wearing one of those tops that just has the string criss-crossing across the back).

We ended up hanging out for another hour that night, and by the end of it, I really think she’d forgotten that I was nude. As far as she was concerned, I was just her brother; it really didn’t matter if I was clothed or not.

After she left (and I jerked off twice), I put on some pajamas and sneaked into the cabinet room, holding a piece of paper.

It was time for the next step.


	Chapter 10

The first time I came in front of my sister, it was weird for both of us.

And the weirdest part, to me, was how weird it was.

It had been a fantasy of mine for literally years. Admittedly, in my fantasies I was typically jerking off _onto_ my sister, but the base ingredients were the same.

Turns out, and this genuinely surprised me, I’m a little self-conscious about the way I jerk off.

I had been pretty happy with the prep work I’d done. After slipping the hand-written note into her folder, I’d given it some time, just like I had with nudity.

I hadn’t honestly noticed any difference in the way that she got off on camera while I was in the room. Like I said, we’d been doing _that_ for weeks, so I sort of knew she didn’t have an issue with it.

Afterwards, we were lying on her bed, watching camgirls, shooting the shit. The well of good ideas was truly dry at this point, and so the shows had almost become background noise; something to have on while we hung out, y’know?

Eight months earlier, that would have been Friends reruns in the den, and we would have both been fully clothed. Now, it was half-naked British girls (a lot of the best camgirls are British, in my experience) moaning into their webcam, while my sister and I lay naked on her bed.

I loved my life.

“Oh hey,” I said casually, hoping that Ashley didn’t notice the slight break in my voice. “This girl’s great.”

Her name was Pink Lily; I’d checked her out a few times. Blonde, huge tits—the similarities to my sister were a big reason I liked her so much.

Ashley fell silent, and the two of us watched Lily as she slowly accrued enough tokens to take off her panties, then her bra, then finally her shirt. Her huge, pink-nippled boobs fell into view, and I deliberately shifted my weight a little.

My sister glanced down, noticed that I was hard, and returned her attention to the screen.

I was laying beside her naked, watching a live cam show, sporting a huge boner…and she didn’t even care.

My life was the fucking _best_.

Lily quickly accrued enough tips to start the ‘cum-show’, and as she pulled out her Hitachi, I again tried to sound extraordinarily casual.

“Oh, great,” I said. “Do you mind if I jerk off?”

My sister went very still for a second, and when she spoke, it was my turn to notice how forced-casual she sounded.

“No problem,” she said, her voice strained. She pulled away, slightly, so that no part of our bodies were touching. “Go, uh…go right ahead.”

And so I did.

Like I said, it wasn’t like the fantasies. The entire time, I found myself thinking “ah god is this the way that everyone does it?”, or “I hope she doesn’t get bored” or “okay as soon as I’m done, I’m moving ’self-consciousness’ way, way down in my folder.”

It was still a dream come true, don’t get me wrong. My sister’s wide blue eyes, staring as I wrapped my hand around my cock, the way she tried to keep focus on the computer, her eyes occasionally darting over to my hand.

Amazing.

But yeah, definitely weird.

I was nervous the whole time. I was nervous about what it looked like, what it felt like, how long I was taking (is it better to be fast or slow?) and now my sister’s reaction had amplified that nervousness. But she didn’t say anything as I stroked myself, keeping my eyes firmly on Lily. Before too long, I came, three strong spurts, shooting my cum onto my chest.

I cleaned up, kept on talking, kept the conversation light. My sister joined in, but that weird tension never left her voice.

And I knew my sister was a little wigged out because—for the first time since she started letting me watch her cam— _she_ was the one who suggested we crash.

“We should get some sleep,” she suggested, and I agreed, heading straight into my bedroom, my mind pounding, desperately wondering what had gone wrong.

It’s possible I misread the signals. Maybe she wanted to be alone that night so she could get off again, but…I don’t think so. I think she just wanted some time to process.

You might be wondering why I didn’t just go and check her folder. Here’s the thing, though; it’s a list of priorities. It’s not a list of every thought that flits through her head. Maybe ‘Stop Feeling Awkward While Jacob Jerks Off’ would’ve made an appearance, a new folder full of a step-by-step guide of what she was thinking, but probably not.

Maybe my expectations had just been too high, and the first time would’ve been awkward no matter what. Maybe I’d rushed things, and should have given her more time to get comfortable with the idea. Maybe I should have taken smaller steps—casually playing with my cock in front of her, instead of leaping straight to masturbation.

I didn’t know, and I didn’t know how to know.

I’d been watching her cum for so long, I truly hadn’t expected it to be an issue. When I’d added the note to her folder, I’d actually wondered if it was even necessary. We’d been doing it for weeks, after all.

I guess there’s just a difference between professional masturbation and masturbation for funsies.

The next day, I messed with my folder again, reducing my need to feel less self-consciousness. That immediately helped, but I still decided to wait a little while before trying again. No sense in pushing too fast, after all.

In the meantime, I was just really enjoying the time spent with my sister. She’s smart, funny, and now that I’d run out of advice to offer, we’d fallen back into our old banter, chatting and joking about TV shows, music, stuff from our childhood. Ashley’s trust manifested in weird ways; it meant she really appreciated my opinions, for example. Even outside of her show. It also made her more cuddly, which I enjoyed even when she _wasn’t_ naked.

It was a full week before I gave it another go. We had some camgirls on in the background (Russians, this time, just in case the country was doing something different that we could use) and I casually mentioned how hot one of them was.

This time, I made sure to choose someone who didn’t look anything like my sister, in case that had been the problem. I’m not normally an anxious person, but I’d been mentally running through the last time we’d done this, desperately trying to find _anything_ that explained Ashley’s reaction.

There was a long pause after I asked. On some level, I guess I’d been hoping _she’d_ ask _me_ if I wanted to masturbate, just to show how comfortable she was with it.

No such luck.

A few hotties later, and I bit the bullet. (My reduced self-consciousness helped a lot there.)

“You mind if I jerk off?”

Again, that weird silence. Again, she shifted on the bed, ensuring that no part of us was touching.

But again, she answered in the affirmative.

After that, I decided that the only way to make it less weird was to do it more often. I mixed up the routine a little—it wasn’t always after one of her shows (I didn’t want her drawing any connections, not yet). It wasn’t always while we were both naked, and it wasn’t always while we were touching. I’d be on the computer, she’d be in my bed, I’d casually ask.

Always that weird pause, followed by that hesitant approval.

After almost two months, I could feel her starting to relax about the whole situation. She still never initiated it, but her hesitation started to fade.

And so I stopped asking.

We’d be sitting around, shooting the shit, I’d be on my phone, and I’d just pull out my cock and start jerking it. Her body would go stiff, but she wouldn’t object. Then I started doing it when we were laying next to each other on the bed—again, she was a little weird about it, but made no comment.

I’d _had_ a plan. The next step I’d mentally plotted out was jerking off during one of her shows, see if I could get away with that…but her reactions had scared me. She’d been so fine with everything else, every other step had been so easy…but as soon as things had turned overtly sexual, she’d been…weird.

It was too risky.

The change hadn’t stuck, for some reason; at least, not as strongly as everything else. I wanted to know why before I took things any further.

And then Ashley said something that took me completely by surprise.

* * *

We were laying on my bed, watching porn.

Normally we watched camgirls together, but I’d been browsing reddit while Ashley cuddled up to me and I’d seen a super hot preview.

The porn wasn’t anything special, but it was kind of hot. Two girls making out, a guy interrupts, they end up fucking him.

Lately I’d just been pulling it out without asking, but for whatever reason, I went off-script.

“You mind if I jerk off?” I said, and Ashley shook her head without hesitation.

She still pulled back, but not as much as normal; her hand was on my side, her head was still partially on my shoulder.

And that’s when she said it.

“Do you mind if _I_ do?”

If I’d been holding anything, I would have dropped it.

“Of course not,” I said, trying to sound as casual as I possibly could.

I was fully clothed; Ashley was topless, wearing a pair of those cloth short shorts. Dolphin shorts, I think they’re called. As I pulled my dick out, Ashley reached into her shorts.

I’d seen her get off literally hundreds of times by now, but this…this wasn’t a show. This wasn’t for money. This wasn’t for an audience.

This was for pleasure.

Just like that first night, when I’d overheard my sister getting off alone in her room. This was something she was doing just for her.

But my sister’s a performer, and so I knew—even though this was a comfort thing, even though I was her brother…on some level, she’d be doing it for me.

The girls on-screen alternated licking the dude’s cock as I stared at my laptop, trying desperately to get a good look at my sister’s reflection.

She was quieter.

That was the first thing I noticed: when it wasn’t for a show, she was quieter. It made sense; if nothing else, she wasn’t competing with her industrial vibrator for sound.

Her hand was underneath the shorts, another difference; normally I could see _everything_ , but when it wasn’t for the pleasure of others, when it was just for her own pleasure, she apparently didn’t need to be naked.

God it was hot.

The best part (aside from ‘everything’) was the timing. Ashley came about twenty seconds after watching me shoot off.

Was it the sight of her own brother’s orgasm that finished her off? I don’t honestly know. But even though I hadn’t made any specific alterations in that regard, just seeing someone get off is hot, right?

I like to think that it was seeing me cum that pushed her over the edge.

This time, I was surprised in the opposite way: afterwards, things _weren’t_ weird. I cleaned up, she licked her fingers clean (which: oh my god, oh my god) and we closed the porn and went back to hanging out.

Like nothing had ever happened.

Amazing.

After that, she’d get off in front of me pretty regularly

Considering how often she was performing, I was amazed that she had any energy left for non-performative orgasms…but, of course, my sister _has_ always been an over-achiever. (The position of both ‘Orgasm’ and ‘Masturbation’ definitely helped, of course.)

Sometimes Ashley would get off while I did, more often it was just when we were hanging out—just whenever she felt turned on, I guess.

I tried to watch out for signs that she was checking me out while she came, but I was disappointed. Unless I was jerking off, her attention seemed to be fully consumed by whatever she was watching, or reading, or even just thinking about.

And even when I _was_ jerking off, it wasn’t like she was staring at my cock the whole time. The only silver lining was that my climax would more often than not trigger her own. It was frequent enough that I didn’t think it could be a coincidence.

My cock was getting my sister off.

Amazing.

After a few weeks, I was ready for the next step of my plan. I’d abandoned the idea of jerking off while watching her perform; the more a girl I was jerking off to looked like her, the less comfortable she seemed about me masturbating in front of her (and when they were big-titted blondes with blue eyes, she never ever ever joined in). Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t; it wasn’t worth the risk.

It was an hour or two after one of Ashley’s shows. I just couldn’t wait any longer; I wanted to fuck my sister, and these slow, steady steps were starting to get to me.

It had to be slow; I knew it had to be slow. I didn’t have a mind ray I could use to erase her memory. If I didn’t make changes gradually, I had no idea how she’d react. If we suddenly started fucking out of nowhere, she’d be suspicious, and who knew what could happen. She could refuse to talk to me again, she could tell our parents…she could tell the cops.

She could find the filing cabinets.

I couldn’t have that. And so I knew I had to move slowly. It was just…excruciating.

As soon as I saw her drifting off to sleep that night, I slipped down the hallway, into the room, and started messing with her folders, getting everything ready for the next few days.

For the next part of the new plan.

Opening the ‘Trust in Jacob’ folder, I saw it.

‘Comfort Masturbating In Front Of Jacob’.

I stared at it for a long time, processing exactly what I’d written.

I’d _meant_ to write ‘Comfort With Masturbation Around Jacob.’ You know—both ways.

Nope.

I’d made my sister prioritize masturbating around me, and totally neglected to cover the reverse.

No wonder she’d been weird. No wonder it had been months and months before she’d started joining in.

I was just lucky that it hadn’t been a bigger mistake. I’d never considered the potential consequences of writing the wrong thing.

And yet…

She’d gone along with it.

I’d asked my sister if I could jerk off in front of her, and she’d said yes.

Not because I’d compelled her. Not because I’d made that specifically a priority in her life.

Just because…

Well, just because. Because she trusted me, I suppose. Because she loved me.

A smile of triumph formed on my face, and I continued shifting Ashley’s folders around.

She had no idea what was coming next.


	Chapter 11

“You mind if I use your credit card?”

I held my breath when my sister gave me a strange glance, then breathed a silent sigh of relief when she handed it over without even questioning what I wanted it for.

Quite the feat, considering the obsession with money that I’d given her. Although I guess expenditure is part of making money. Not for the first time, I wondered if I should do some kind of online business course; my sister was raking in serious dough by this point, and I was sure we could be managing it better.

Ashley watched as I typed in the digits. She didn’t blink an eye as I spent one hundred of her hard-earned dollars to buy two thousand credits (the more you buy, the bigger the discount).

But when she saw what I was spending them on…

I swear, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see her pupils turn into actual dollar signs.

“Is _that_ what they’re always talking about?”

Over the past few months, we’d watched a bunch of camgirls. No, more than a bunch. What’s the collective noun for camgirls? A cumshow? A Hitachi?

We’d watched a tease of camgirls together. Hundreds, if not thousands. But there was one aspect of the business that we’d never actually gotten around to discussing.

The free camming sites (where the girls make the majority of their money) only have a few rules, but one of them is simply ‘no guys’. You can’t be a camguy, you can’t get your boyfriend on to spank you, you can’t make love to a real-life penis.

No guys. Simple as that.

I’ve never looked into why (I’ve never been curious enough to) but I’m guessing it makes them technically not pornography? Something like that?

You _can_ have multiple people on the channel, so long as they’re all ladies.

Getting my sister to invite another popular camgirl onto her show was certainly tempting—I would have paid good money to watch her fuck another hottie, and I’m sure a lot of her audience felt the same way—but getting someone else in felt like it would just be opening the door to a world of trouble.

If nothing else, I’m certain they wouldn’t be cool with Ashley’s kid brother in the room, watching as they performed.

Maybe I could get Ashley invited onto someone else’s channel; have her go around to their house, fool around on-camera for the world to see…

It was tempting, and Exclusivity With Sexual Partners was no longer a priority for me, but it wouldn’t get me any closer to my goal. I wanted to fuck my sister. I wanted my sister to be my personal sex slave, at my beck and call twenty-four hours a day, those huge tits at my command. That was my priority.

And I had a plan.

See, while the actual camgirl _sites_ won’t let you have a guy on, there’s a loophole of sorts. These sites will let you sell videos for credits.

The videos can be anything. They can just be a solo show (like the standard cam fare), they can be a girl/girl show…or they can involve a guy.

And so Ashley watched as I clicked through to one of our favorite camgirl’s pages (I made sure to pick one that looked nothing like her, to avoid any potential discomfort), tipped her five hundred credits, and bought a video.

Five hundred credits for a Hitachi show video. Something that the model did, for free, several times a week. Twenty-five dollars for something that I could watch anytime she was online.

You’re paying for the convenience, I guess—you don’t have to try to work out how to record the model’s screen, you don’t have the jangling of tips interrupting the flow, you might get more camerawork than just a single static shot.

But ultimately, I was paying for something that the model was already doing. Money in the bank.

Ashley turned to me with a smile.

“How do we start?”

* * *

“Oh! Oh! Oh! _Oh!_ ”

Now that I’d seen my sister masturbate off-camera a few dozen times, it was increasingly obvious which parts were performative, and which parts were genuine.

The way her eyes fluttered? That was real. The flush was real, of course; my sister is an okay actress, but nowhere near good enough to fake _that_.

Her loud moans and pants you might have guessed were real, but nope. When she’s getting herself off just for fun, she maybe whimpers a little. That’s what I’d heard, that first night I listened to her get off through the bedroom door. Small, sexy whimpers; no loud, rhythmic screams.

Makes sense. If you’re always shouting like that when you jerk off, you’re basically advertising to the world that hey, you’re cumming. It’s hard to be discreet.

Not that discretion was a priority for my sister any more.

I’d made sure of that.

I moved the camera in, until her pink slit was filling the frame.

Her face no longer on-camera, Ashley looked at me inquiringly.

_All good?_ she mouthed, and I nodded.

She winked, smiled, and continued moaning loudly.

A few minutes later, my sister was cumming, her thighs twitching over and over again as she pressed the toy against her clit. (The twitches? Genuine.) I pulled back. She smiled at the camera, winked, and blew it a kiss.

“Cut,” I said, and Ashley squealed with delight.

My sister’s exhibitionism shows itself in weird forms. Like, she shows off her climaxing form to an ever-growing audience almost every night. I don’t know whether or not the allure is fading (if you have your favorite food every day, it stops being a rare treat) but it was obvious that this, me pointing a camera at her throbbing snatch, had sparked something inside of her.

“That was _fun_ ,” she said. “Thanks so much for shooting that for me.”

“No problem.”

Ashley hadn’t even hesitated at the idea of me holding the camera. Why would she? I’d seen her cum dozens of times—on-camera, off-camera. Watching each other cum was just something we did now; no big deal.

I loved my life.

And so she’d freely allowed me to film her getting off, not even blinking an eye as I moved the camera in for a closeup of her pulsating pussy.

No big deal.

I uploaded the video to her computer and watched her watch it. She was transfixed.

I guess she’d never watched herself back before. Like I said, recording stuff from the cam sites is a bit of a hassle. It can be done, but we’d never bothered.

_She’d_ never bothered. I had about a hundred hours on my hard-drive, just in case I ever screwed up and lost access to my sister’s work. To her mind. Even if the shows stopped, even if she stopped letting me watch her get off, I wanted to have something I could use to remember the good times.

Ashley smiled at the sight of herself smiling on-camera. She leaned in slightly as the Hitachi made its way between her legs.

She bit her lip at the close-up of her clit.

And then, when it was done, she turned to me with an earnest look on her face.

“What did you think?”

I smiled, and launched into feedback.

* * *

It took six more takes before I was ‘happy’ with the video.

I’d expected us to do it over the course of a few days, but… _fuck_. My sister, it turns out, is a machine. As soon as I said “action”, it was like she hadn’t cum for a week. At my instruction, she was pleading with the camera, begging the audience to let her cum. When I nodded, she became coquettish, flirting with the webcam as she began to strip.

And when she pulled out her toy and got to work, it never took her more than ten minutes to get off.

Even on the last take. She’d been cumming for hours at that point, but she still managed to hit her peak to exactly match my suggested timing.

I’d call ‘cut’, we’d watch the tape, she’d blush and squirm and smile at the sight of her own writhing body, and then turn to me for feedback.

When I finally signed off on the seventh video, my sister looked like she wanted to burst with excitement. She threw herself at me, and gave me a naked, sweaty hug.

I hugged her back, carefully angling myself so that she wouldn’t notice my erection.

Even if I never got any further with Ashley, even if this was it…god. The memory of her bare tits, pressed against my shirt; my hands, gently holding her back…the smell of her pussy filling the air.

It was heavenly.

I considered telling her I needed to go to bed, or that I wanted to jerk off, but her excitement was contagious. Instead, I spent the next hour and a half setting everything up; finding the webhost the other camgirls use, uploading the video, updating her profile with the details.

By the time I was done, I was starting to hit a wall, but my sister was still thrumming with excitement.

If I’d offered to shoot another video, I had no doubt that she would have enthusiastically agreed.

Instead, I went into my room and slept, too tired to even jerk off.

* * *

Ashley awoke me in the morning, a huge grin on her face.

“Guess the number,” she said. I’m guessing our parents weren’t home, because she was completely naked.

Waking up to the sight of Ashley’s bare tits was something I was getting used to. I loved my life.

“Three point one four,” I mumbled, not sure what she was talking about.

“No,” she laughed. “The video.”

My forehead crinkled.

“Sales?”

“Yeah.”

“How have you had any sales? You haven’t done a show since…—“

“I was too wired to sleep, so I stayed up and did a show for a few hours. Guess the number!”

“Six.”

“Sixty-five,” she said, and I sat up in surprise.

“What?”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I priced it at 500 credits, like you suggested…that’s almost a thousand bucks!”

The cam sites take a portion of every credit. I don’t remember the exact split, but Ashley certainly does.

“That’s insane,” I said, rubbing my eyes. Ashley bounced with joy, causing other parts of her to bounce as well.

I moved my hands away from my face and enjoyed the show.

“Thanks so much,” she said, her eyes suddenly filling with sincerity. “Seriously, Jacob. I really appreciate all the help you’ve given me.”

“Happy to,” I said casually. “I know how important this is to you.”

“Yeah,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes.

For a moment, my heart almost stopped. _Crap._ Why had I reminded her how important this was to her? From there, it was a short path to _questioning_ why it was so important, and why her brother was involved, and then she might go exploring, find the filing cabinets, go through hers, recognize my hand-writing…

Before my train of thought could turn into a full-blown filing cabinet, she continued.

“Jacob…”

“Yeah?”

I totally failed at sounding casual, but I don’t think Ashley even noticed.

“I’m thinking…”

“What?”

“You’ve done so much for me, I don’t even want to ask.”

“What is it?”

My sister took a deep breath, and put her hand on my hand.

“Will you help me make some more videos? I know it’s a little weird, but you’re so _good_ at it.”

Mentally breathing a sigh of relief, I nodded.

“Of course,” I replied, doing a much better job of sounding chill. “Not a problem.”

“Great,” she said. “Thanks so much!”

A smile spread over my face as I watched her bare ass skip out of my room.

This was going even better than I’d hoped.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, I helped my sister make almost two dozen more masturbation videos. Hitachi vids, bath vids, some in which she got off using only her hands, even one or two where she squirted. We talked about doing one in a public park (an idea which Ashley was _very_ excited by) but eventually abandoned the idea.

I told my sister it was because I didn’t want to risk her getting in trouble. That was definitely part of it, but just as importantly: if something _did_ go wrong, I didn’t want it to come out that her brother was her director.

The videos did well. Better than I was expecting, honestly. On one level, it was kind of nice, knowing that I wasn’t a _total_ freak—my sister really was impossibly desirable. Yeah, it was still messed up that I was attracted to my own sister, but it wasn’t entirely my fault.

She really was superhumanly attractive. Some kind of sex goddess.

And soon, she’d be mine.

With each video, I got more and more picky. The first few took less than ten takes before I was ‘satisfied’, but as we kept going, I kept demanding more and more reshoots. The last masturbation video took almost fifty attempts before I signed off on it.

Ashley never once complained, no matter how far I pushed it. She knew how important it was to get everything right; she completely believed that I was doing it all for _her_ , for her success. She’d get herself off again and again, following my every instruction. If I told her to grab her nipple, she’d grab her nipple. If I told her to act like a tiger…she was immediately one-hundred percent tiger.

It was such a turn-on, having my flushed, sweaty, orgasming sister obeying my every command. In order to avoid my voice interrupting the videos, we’d worked out some silent commands. When I shook my head, she’d slow down whatever she was doing. When I tilted my head to the side, she’d perform louder and more enthusiastically.

And when I tilted my head down and stared intensely at her, my sister would cum.

We only ever used these signals when we were filming, of course, but man it was tempting to test them out somewhere else. Yeah, I can’t imagine my sister would just abruptly orgasm in public, but isn’t that how Pavlovian training works? She’d cum more than a hundred times at the sight of my tilted head…I was so curious to know what would happen if I used it at the dinner table. Even in front of our parents, I was sure it would turn her on, if not make her spontaneously cum.

I didn’t do it, of course. Fun though the idea was, everything was going so well. There was _no_ chance I was going to take any kind of risk with it all now. Especially not such a stupid risk.

But the idea was a huge turn-on.

After the first dozen videos, Ashley presented me with a dilemma:

She offered me a cut of the profits.

On one hand, I knew how hard that must have been for her. I’d made money such a high priority for my sister. It must have _killed_ her to offer me part of it, even the (almost insultingly) low percentage she’d offered. If I accepted, she might decide that she’d be better off just making them by herself. Sure, they might not be as polished, but she’d get to keep one hundred percent of the earnings.

But if I rejected it, I risked her wondering why I was helping her. Like, these videos took serious hours to put together; why would a brother do this _and_ turn down the money? My motives wouldn’t really stand up to a whole lot of questioning.

In the end, I passed on the money, and told her that she’d ‘owe me’ a favor. With a look of relief, Ashley agreed—‘anything’, she told me. Anything I wanted.

Little did she know, it wouldn’t be long before she gave me _everything_.


	Chapter 12

Special thanks to HP for his contributions to this chapter.

If I’m being honest, what happened next was a fluke.

I had a plan for how to progress…but before I could do anything about it, our internet dropped out.

Ever since I turned twelve, I’ve always been in charge of dealing with our ISP. When I was younger, it was something I was so proud of; I’m sure my parents could have dealt with it, but it made me feel important, grown-up. I’d happily spend hours on hold, doing whatever needed to be done to get the internet back up and running.

These days, it was a bit of a chore, but I didn’t mind doing it. As we’d gone from dial-up to DSL to Cable, my parents had stopped keeping up with the changes, so I was fairly sure I was the only person in the house who _could_ handle it.

Then, all of a sudden, my slightly obnoxious responsibility became a boon.

I was asleep when it happened. For the second time in a month, I was awoken by my naked sister.

“Jacob. Jacob, wake up!”

She’d been in the middle of a show when the connection was lost. My sister, naked, pleading for my help. I swear I’d literally had this dream before.

I stumbled out of bed and fumbled around with her computer, but nothing I did worked. After half an hour of impromptu middle-of-the-night tech support, I realized what had happened. It wasn’t just us; half the neighborhood had lost their internet.

There was nothing I could do.

Ashley’s panic levels went through the roof when I told her. I don’t blame her; aside from breathing, eating, personal safety, and trusting me, her two highest priorities were exhibiting her body and making money. The internet was her main source for fulfilling both of those needs.

My first instinct, of course, was just to fix the problem. Not by getting our home internet back up and running; there was nothing I could do about that. But I could have bought an internet dongle, or even just changed my sister’s phone plan to allow tethering.

Getting her back online would have been a piece of cake.

But it soon occurred to me…maybe this was an opportunity.

The longer my sister went without the internet, the more my sister would be deprived of outlets for her desires. She’d be desperate. Needy.

Horny.

Fate had handed me a free card, and I was ready to use it.

After telling Ashley that there was nothing that could be done and instructing her to go to sleep, I crept into the small room, and readjusted my sister’s files. This time, I was sure to triple-check my every action; the internet dropping out had been a lucky break. I didn’t want to blow my chance.

’Short-Term Wealth’ was restored to its former position in the middle of the drawer. I didn’t want her having a nervous breakdown about her income stream suddenly drying up.

‘Exhibitionism’ stayed where it was—opening it up and skimming through the files, I was surprised to see that things had changed. The order was different than I remembered, and it looked like new folders and subfolders had appeared.

It made sense, really. Before the iPhone, I’m sure that no one had ‘Check Social Media Every Few Minutes’ as a priority. As your life shifts and changes, so must your files. Ashley spent so much time and energy on exhibitionism; her needs changed, and her priorities soon followed.

Last time I’d gone through, I’d been looking for ‘Exposure To Family Members’ and come up short. That folder still didn’t exist. I could have added it, I suppose, but it seemed unnecessarily risky.

Especially considering some of the new discoveries I made within her folder.

‘Needing Confirmation Of Exposure’ might have been there the last few times I explored Ashley’s folder, but I certainly hadn’t noticed it. Or, if I had, I hadn’t understood what it meant.

The brain, my Dad had once told me, is extraordinarily malleable. I hadn’t really known what he was talking about (or why he was talking about it to me) but now I was starting to get it.

I’d made Exhibitionism a high priority for my sister. With that need, had come insecurities, I guess. Showing off your body is all good and well, but if you don’t _know_ that the other person has seen it, is it really exhibitionism?

I moved the sheet of paper to the front of her folder.

Getting attention is something that most people want naturally; exhibitionism is just a sexual take on the idea. Showing off your body to others fulfills a need to see oneself as attractive and desirable. Valuable.

My sister’s Self-Esteem folder had, I was sure, moved up since the last time I’d explored her cabinet. Remember, that didn’t mean that her self-esteem was any higher; it just meant that maintaining a healthy self-esteem was a higher priority.

I guess if your life revolves around your body being assessed by others, you need to take more time to ensure that your opinion of yourself isn’t altered. If strangers are sharing their opinion of you daily, you probably want to separate your self-worth from their opinions.

Opening the folder, I found a ‘Sexual Pride’ folder, front and center. _That_ certainly hadn’t been there when all this had started.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself at the progress I’d already made.

I took the folder out and moved it higher in her priority list. She was so used to all those guys being fixated on her, heaping her with sexual praise. Without the internet, I’d be able to starve her of that, force her to find someone else to fulfill that role.

Closing the cabinet, I slowly left the room, my mind buzzing with plans.

* * *

The next morning, I was again woken up by my sister. This time, she wasn’t naked and desperate—she was fully-clothed and cranky.

“Jacob,” she hissed. “Jacob! When is the internet going to be up and running again?”

“Soon,” I grunted, but Ashley refused to let me sleep.

With a sigh, I got up and started making calls. Sure enough, the problem wasn’t going away anytime soon. When my sister was out of earshot, I told the ISP to take their time, that there was really no rush.

I’m probably the only person in history who’s ever been grateful for the ineptitude of an internet service provider.

When I informed my family of the result, my parents didn’t really care (they mostly used the internet at work, and watched TV at home) but I could see Ashley’s face drop.

That night, Ashley dressed up to go out. She wore a black coat over the top, but her bare ankles and six-inch stilettos told me what her plans was.

She was returning to the stage.

Considering how excited I’d been when my sister had started stripping, you’d think I would have realized it would be her fallback option. She’d been fired from one club, but I’m sure there were others who would take her—especially if they were aware of her new career as a camgirl. I hadn’t yet seen any of her masturbation videos hit reddit or the torrent sites, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be long.

My sister was probably going to be internet famous before too long. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

As soon as my sister was out the door, I made a beeline for her cabinet. ‘Personal safety’ was still above exhibitionism, but clearly that wasn’t enough to deter her. After all, there were plenty of bouncers around—as long as she didn’t do anything stupid, she’d be able to get her thrills from the dozens of gawking eyes, in a relatively risk-free environment.

Even if I called the club and tried to get her fired or whatever, without ‘income’ as a priority, there were plenty of ways to show her body off.

I needed to do something to keep her in the house. Having the internet reconnected was an option, of course, but not one I wanted to take. No…something told me a better solution was somewhere in one of the endless folders in Ashley’s filing cabinet.

It was less than twenty minutes later that I found it. Within her ’Socialization’ folder, there was a folder dedicated to ‘Avoiding Awkward Situations’.

Obviously no one _likes_ awkward situations, but I guess different people prioritize avoiding them differently. I remember there was one guy in my gym class who didn’t seem to care who he offended, or how uncomfortable he made people.

Me, I’ve always hated that moment where you wave back at someone and realize they were waving at the person behind you.

Ew. Just thinking about it gave me the willies. Maybe I needed to move that folder back in my own cabinet.

Flipping through my sister’s awkward situations folder, I made a powerful discovery.

Unlike her ‘Exhibitionism’ folder, this one _did_ specify family members.

There were several subfolders: ‘Avoiding Socially Awkward Situations With Friends’, ‘Avoiding Socially Awkward Situations With Strangers’, ‘Avoiding Socially Awkward Situations With Colleagues’, and to my delight, ‘Avoiding Socially Awkward Situations With Family Members’.

I’ve already mentioned that this filing cabinet defied all physics. Like, it controlled my sister’s priorities—that probably should have been the first hint that it didn’t follow the standard laws of the universe. As well as that, it went on forever. Like, I literally think there were infinite folders within the drawer—no matter how many I looked at, there were always more. Thin folders contained thick folders, some of them nested beyond all reason.

And all of it fit in a single drawer.

When I opened the ’Avoiding Socially Awkward Situations With Family Members’ subfolder up, I noticed something else unusual. This folder had been inside ‘Avoiding Socially Awkward Situations’, which, in turn, was inside ’Socialization’.

It looked like it contained a few dozen pieces of paper (though I suspect if I’d started counting them, they would have numbered in the hundreds), all of which managed to simultaneously be right next to each other…but also quite far apart.

Like, at the front of the folder was ‘Avoiding Letting Mom And Dad Catch Me Camming.’ Fair enough—that was clearly a high priority for her. The next piece of paper was titled ‘Avoiding Talking To Mom And Dad About sex’, and then ‘Avoiding Farting In The Same Room As Mom’ (which is a whole Thing).

But between the infinite papers specifying our parents and the first one about me, there was…a gap. Like, I couldn’t _see_ it, but I knew it was there. And when I examined the gap, I discovered that not only did these folders sometimes nest infinite subfolders, they also contained the rest of the cabinet.

In the gap between ‘Avoiding Watching Movies With Sex Scenes While Mom And Dad Are Around’ and ‘Avoiding Letting Jacob Find My Porn Collection’ were several folders—‘Body Maintenance’, ‘Cleanliness’, ‘Cooking’, ‘Cleaning’.

Making a mental note that my sister was hiding her stash of porn from me, I kept exploring. The hidden gaps weren’t omnipresent, but once I knew what to look like, it wasn’t hard to find other examples: two adjacent pieces of paper, hiding entire folders between them.

It’s hard to know exactly what was happening, but I _think_ the top-level folders showed how concepts as a whole were ranked in Ashley’s life. ‘Socialization’ above ‘Body Maintenance’ above ‘Cleanliness’ above ‘Cooking’. But as the needs got more specific, some of them were less important than others; hiding her porn collection from me, despite being nested under ’Socialization’, was apparently less of a priority than cooking or cleaning.

Like, if she’d ever had to (for some reason) make a choice between me finding her porn and ever getting to cook again, she would have chosen the latter.

After a few more minutes of noodling around, trying to wrap my head around the impossible physics, I managed to figure out how it worked. I took Ashley’s ‘Avoiding Awkward Situations With Strangers’ folder and—without taking it out of ‘Socialization’—moved it to the front, just ahead of ‘Exhibitionism’.

The bouncers, I was sure, wouldn’t be able to protect her from the awkward interactions that I was certain would be a part of stripping.

After a few more moments of thought, I moved her ‘Friends’, ‘Colleagues’, and ‘Ex-Boyfriends’ folders as well. My goal was to build up Ashley’s frustration until she was ready to pop; if she could relieve her tension by just calling an ex or flashing a friend, I’d be left high and dry.

And if everything went to plan, this would just be temporary.

After a few minutes of flipping through ‘Avoiding Awkward Situations With Family’, I grabbed some of the key pieces of paper and moved them to the back, where I’d stashed her all of modesty-related priorities.

It was less than twenty minutes later when my sister returned home, a terrified look on her face.

“What’s up?” I asked casually, biting into an apple.

For a moment, I could see my sister’s struggle, but ‘Trust In Jacob’ clearly won out, and she told me.

* * *

Ashley had been onstage when it hit her.

It had only been a day since the internet had gone down, but she was already feeling the itch. The need to be seen. To be admired.

To be wanted.

She was used to the attention of thousands. Watching her shows, showering her in tips, in praise.

Each and every time she got off for the camera, she did so knowing that there were hundreds of eyes on her, feasting on her form. It turned her on more than anything, knowing that her naked body was the object of so much attention.

Her brother had told her that it was difficult to record a camshow, but a part of her knew that someone must be doing it. It wasn’t just the people watching her live; somewhere, her shows were being stored, rewatched again and again and again and again.

Every one of her shows, recorded for posterity. Potentially to be used as jerk-off material for years to come.

Nothing turned her on more.

And so when it had been suddenly cut off, she was already feeling the need. Less than twenty-four hours later, she was on the phone to her old job, begging for one more chance, for a spot on the stage.

She’d been refused, but the manager had thrown her a bone, and hooked her up with the contact details for a club he’d worked with in the past.

It was a bit of a drive, but within an hour she had a spot booked for that night.

Ashley hadn’t stripped onstage for months, but her nervousness was overpowered by her desire to show off her body, to be lusted after.

It was more than a fetish. It was a _need_.

When she’d stepped onstage, a burst of adrenaline had rushed through her body. A performative smile had crossed her face, and she’d begun her old stage routine, the one she’d been practicing all day.

That was when it happened. She made eye-contact with one of the patrons: typically a _highlight_ of performing live, getting to see the faces of the men you’re turning on, getting to see their reactions in person.

But the man she glanced at…he reminded her of one of her teachers.

It wasn’t him, she immediately established. It was just a random face in the crowd.

Ashley tried to continue dancing, but just the _idea_ of it being her teacher was enough to throw off her rhythm. Sure, it wasn’t, but it could have been. And that was just the one face she’d looked at.

What if one of her teachers was there, at the strip club? A part of her wanted to find the idea sexy, but more than anything, she was overwhelmed by anxiety.

What if someone she knew was there? And the next time she saw them, she’d have to…they’d…

As the thoughts overwhelmed her, Ashley stumbled, setting off a new wave of panic. God, she’d missed a step. Everyone was _staring_ at her, wondering what was wrong. What if someone asked? What if someone shouted something out, and she was expected to respond?

The manager had taken a chance on her, and she was _blowing it_. What if he confronted her?

The thoughts multiplied in her head as she tried to get back into her rhythm, but she couldn’t. She wanted to throw up.

God, what if she threw up? That would be…it would be…

Tears running down her red face, Ashley left the stage as quickly as she could. She hadn’t even unveiled her tits. All she’d done was get up on stage, start swaying, screwed it up, and then left in a flurry.

The crowd began to boo, frustrated at her sudden exit. The desire to go back on stage and strip for them briefly battled against her fear of the interactions that would follow if she turned around, and lost out.

Before long, Ashley was driving home, shaking with fear.


	Chapter 13

Special thanks to HP for his contributions to this chapter.

My sister was pacing around the house, frustrated.

Every now and again, she’d pull out her phone and then put it away again. I knew exactly what she was doing—Ashley was contemplating calling the strip club to apologize, to beg for another shift…but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Even if though it was almost impossible for it to be worse than the previous night, she couldn’t muster up the courage to have a conversation with them.

It was too awkward for her to even consider.

At one point, she asked me if it was possible to stream from her phone. I told her it was (which was true) but that it would involve getting special permission from an administrator of the site (which was not).

Just the thought of asking a favor from a stranger was enough to make Ashley cringe, and so she made a post announcing a brief hiatus.

“More videos coming soon!” she wrote. Perfect.

When Ashley approached me about filming some more masturbation videos, I turned her down.

“There’s no point,” I told her casually. “If you’re not doing shows, you’d be launching them to a dead audience. You know how much even a day or two off can affect your rankings—a week away is going to make it a real uphill battle when you return.”

“What if we filmed a bunch now,” she asked, a desperate tone in her voice, “so we have a backlog when everything is back online?”

“Nah,” I said, suddenly very glad that I’d turned down the money. “We’ll just do some more when you’re back online, yeah?”

My sister pushed it for another hour, but I refused to budge. I offered to lend her my equipment so she could film herself, and I could tell that she was tempted…but it wasn’t the same.

She needed more than just to get off for the camera. She needed _acknowledgement_.

Over the next two days, the slow build-up of her needs was actually visible.

A human can last three weeks without food, but Ashley’s exhibitionist needs were more like being deprived of water.

My sister’s need to be watched was a dry, painful thirst: one that was increasingly apparent after just a few days without anyone viewing her body. Her fear of socially awkward situations kept her away from bars, friends, and Tinder, and our internet drought meant that she couldn’t cam.

There was only one person left.

I’d worked hard to convince my sister of my entirely innocent, above-the-board intentions. It had been a lot of effort to get to the point where we were masturbating in front of each other without her seeing it as a sexual dynamic.

And I knew it had worked. As far as Ashley was concerned, I was just her helpful brother. She knew that I didn’t find anything weird about our casual masturbation sessions, and as time went on, neither did she.

She barely viewed me as a sexual creature. And to her mind, I certainly didn’t find her desirable.

It was time for that to change.

With no internet, we were spending a lot of time watching TV. We were up to the second season of The Wire when I decided to make my move. I had been planning on waiting for another day or two, really getting my sister up to boiling point, but one of the character’s girlfriends had surprised us both by suddenly taking her top off.

“Hot,” I said casually, and my sister agreed.

Without saying a word, I paused the show and pulled out my cock. The girl on-screen had some of the best tits I’d ever seen. Not as good as my sister’s of course, but still pretty spectacular.

Ashley was sitting beside me on the couch; not leaning up against me, but close enough that we were touching. My parents weren’t due home for the rest of the day.

In response, my sister just reached into her yoga pants and began touching herself. A year ago, this situation would have been an impossible wet dream; today, it was no big deal.

Except this time, I knew: Ashley didn’t just want to get herself off.

She wanted someone to watch her do it.

No, she didn’t just want that. She _needed_ it. Ashley had been starved of sexual attention for half a week, and I was the only person around to give her any.

My sister, of course, had no idea that I knew exactly what she wanted. What she needed. Ashley had no idea that I was inside her head, completely aware of her desires…and planning on using them against her.

As I stroked myself, I focused my entire attention on the TV screen, refusing to even glance at Ashley. It wasn’t easy, but when I’d started introducing casual masturbation to the mix, I’d gotten pretty good at avoiding acknowledging her presence at all.

But in my peripheral vision, I could see that she wasn’t watching the screen.

She was watching me.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, and I allowed myself to glance in her direction, just for a split second. She was biting her lip, her hand furiously rubbing between her legs, a confused look on her face.

I looked away before she could notice, and didn’t even let my eyes flick her way again.

No wonder she was confused. Showing off her body, having her sexual presence acknowledged; it was suddenly so important to her, a need that she’d do anything to fulfill. But I’d carefully closed off all her usual avenues, and now all that was left was me.

Her brother.

For the first time in her life (aside from one oh-so-brief flicker, so many months ago) my sister was viewing me in a sexual light. She wanted my attention. She wanted me to notice her, sexually.

No, not wanted. _Needed_.

As I continued stroking my cock, I could hear her rhythm building up. Ashley’s grunting got louder, more…persistent. It was obvious that she was trying to make as much noise as she could, urgently trying to get my attention.

We continued to play with ourselves, two siblings getting off beside each other. The more we mutually masturbated, the louder my sister grew. Her grunting gave way to overt moans; performative ones, the type that I’d heard her use in her show dozens of times.

Normally, my sister used these moans to get tips.

Now, she was using them to get my attention.

Ashley was performing almost entirely for me, her brother.

And I was giving her nothing.

As my hand moved faster and faster, I put all my energies into ignoring her. My mind was racing as I continued staring at the topless TV actor, (her tits, although incredible, were the furthest thing from my mind). This was a battle of wills, and I was going to win.

It wasn’t long before I was cumming. With a grunt of my own, I shot my seed onto my shirt. I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning that up later.

“God yes,” my sister moaned, my orgasm apparently triggering her own. It was louder than normal, and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help myself: I glanced over, and made eye-contact with my sister.

Too late, I realized my mistake. She hadn’t really cum…not until my eyes had met hers.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she panted, a genuine expression of surprise and arousal. Her body was twitching, her orgasm hitting her hard. I wanted to tear my gaze away, but I couldn’t—my sister was staring at my face as she came, biting her lip as pleasure wracked her entire frame, my attention getting her off.

“Wow,” she said, as she came down. “That was…”

“Yeah,” I said, turning my attention back to the TV and unpausing the show. “Who expected _that_ in the middle of a crime show?”

My sister’s body stiffened slightly. All she wanted was sexual acknowledgement, and I refused to give it to her.

* * *

Later that night, I was alone in my room when my sister entered.

She’d gotten so casual about nudity, it took me a moment to realize that she was dressed in a half-cup bra and a pair of tight thong panties.

I bit my tongue, making sure not to even glance down at her exposed nipples.

“Hey,” she said, an uncharacteristically shy tone in her voice. Was she deliberately playing the ingénue, or was this real? She was so hungry for sexual attention; maybe she was genuinely nervous about me noticing her.

“Hey,” I replied, not looking up from my laptop.

“What are you watching?”

“Playing GTA,” I said, pointing at the screen. My sister’s eyes lit up.

“Is the internet back??”

“No,” I laughed. “This game doesn’t need a connection.”

“Oh.”

I could practically taste her disappointment.

With a sigh, my sister plopped herself down on the bed, behind my laptop. She turned, her blonde eyes staring at me.

“You mind if I get off?” she asked, in a tone so casual that it felt rehearsed.

“It’s a free country,” I said, swerving to avoid a cop car.

It was a serious challenge, but I managed to avoid so much as glancing at my sister as she got off. Just like that morning, she was louder than normal—more performative. A lot of groaning and moaning, huffing and gasping.

And, to my delight, when that didn’t work…dirty talk.

It started with just sexual noises, but soon they turned into words.

“God,” she panted. “Goddddd.”

I consciously ignored her, picking up a rocket launcher and making my way into the building.

“Oh god,” she continued. “Oh, I’m so horny.”

Keeping a straight face was challenging, but I somehow managed.

“My nipples,” she shuddered. “Oh, my nipples are so _hard_.”

She sounded like a bad romance author. Dirty talk had never been a part of her camming routine, so I guess she’d never had to learn how it worked.

Terrible though she was at it, I have to admit—I still found it hot as hell.

For the next few minutes, Ashley continued describing her arousal, arching her back and gyrating her hips: everything she could do to win my attention away from the game.

Nope. My eyes remained glued to the screen.

It was taking every ounce of willpower to not only keep from looking, but to keep from making it obvious that I even _wanted_ to look.

_You’ve seen it all before,_ I reminded myself. _You’ve seen her cum a thousand times._

“God I’m hot,” she panted. “Oh god, I’m so hot. I’m so turned on. Oh god, yes, yes, yes, YES!”

I managed to refrain from laughing at the performance. I’ve watched enough of my sister’s orgasms to know when she’s faking.

“Oh, look at how hard my nipples are. Look at how _wet_ I am…”

As I’d been playing the game, my sister had begun pinching her nipples as her other hand pistoned between her legs.

Before long, her manufactured moans gave way to genuine groans of frustration at her inability to get her way.

“ _Look at me_ ,” she gasped insistently, but I held strong.

Ashley’s attempts to get my attention reached a crescendo as she noisily came (for real this time), spasming and twitching noisily, trying desperately to draw my eyes.

Still nothing.

“Wow,” she said, flopping down beside me on the bed. “That was a good one.”

“Uh huh,” I replied. “Hey, check this out—I think this is a secret area!”

I could all but hear my sister rolling her eyes.

* * *

Over the next twenty-four hours, my sister’s frustration continued to visibly rise. She got off in front of me twice more; the second time, I didn’t even acknowledge that she was there.

I remembered being a kid, she’d done the same to me once. It felt like it had lasted weeks—a complete refusal to register that I even _existed_. I think she’d only stopped because our parents had made her.

Oh how the tables had turned.

As she performatively came in front of me, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her head. When I’d first encountered the cabinet, I hadn’t even noticed that I was obsessively cleaning; did Ashley consciously know that she was desperately trying to get my attention? Or had she convinced herself that she just _happened_ to be loudly masturbating in the same room as me?

The cabinet was powerful, but it couldn’t share her thoughts.

Or could it?

It was always an odd experience, going into the small room during the day. It didn’t have any windows, so it was just as dark as always, but the musty smell wasn’t quite as overpowering. My parents weren’t due home for half an hour, and Ashley had fallen asleep on the couch after getting off in front of me for the second time.

Opening Ashley’s drawer, it didn’t take me long to find it. Under ‘Exhibitionism’, in a folder that I’d previously spent hours trying to find: ‘Exposure to Family.’

Inside that folder, there was a single sheet of paper: ‘Exposure to Jacob’.


	Chapter 14

Special thanks to HP for his contributions to this chapter.

If Ashley had seen my face when I found the piece of paper, I bet it would have filled up her entire ‘need to be acknowledged’ bar and then some.

Obviously I didn’t know what I looked like, but I can tell you the emotions that were running through my head. Shock. Lust.

Pride.

It was working.

I mean, I knew it was working. I knew that my actions had been having some pretty strong effects. My sister hadn’t just randomly started stripping, or abruptly become a camgirl for no reason. If I hadn’t discovered the filing cabinets, there was a zero percent change that Ashley would have allowed me to hold a camera inches from her wet pussy as she loudly came, again and again and again.

But thus far, everything I’d done had just changed her _actions_.

In front of me was the most tangible piece of evidence yet that I was changing her desires. Rewriting her mind.

I hadn’t manually added ‘Exposure to Jacob’ as a priority in my sister’s life. She’d generated it herself.

Exposing herself to me was now something that she prioritized.

My face was glowing with excitement as I slowly closed her cabinet drawer.

In that moment, I knew for a fact: there was nothing I couldn’t do. _Nothing._

My sister would be mine.

* * *

The next morning, my sister approached me wearing one of her camgirl costumes. A tight-fitting crop top which left her shoulders bare. The fabric hung loosely off her breasts, drawing the eye to her exposed navel. If you looked closely, you could see her nipples poking through the thin fabric.

Below the waist, she was wearing a pair of jean shorts that allowed a generous view of her under-buttock. I’d seen my sister naked, countless times; I’d watched her achieve orgasm by her own fingers and fuck herself with a toy until she shivered with pleasure. I’d seen her fulfill a viewer’s request and spread her cheeks, exposing her asshole to me. To him. To the world.

I’d spent so much time observing the most intimate parts of my sister, I could have picked them out of a lineup. But seeing her in that outfit…god. It still did things to me.

Even though I’d affected my parent’s priorities, the outfit was slutty enough that I bet they still would have said something at the sight of it.

I don’t think I’d ever seen something so hot in my life. And she was wearing it for me. She had put this outfit on specifically to get my attention.

Six months ago, my sister wouldn’t have worn something this provocative if I’d offered her a million dollars. Now, she was doing it in a desperate attempt to get my attention.

The moment I saw it, I was hard as a rock.

“What’s up?” I rasped, immediately wishing I’d swallowed before talking. My sister blushed at the sound of my voice.

“Hey,” she said, an unexpected shyness to her voice. “Um…”

I kept silent, not trusting my voice to hide my arousal. The pause stretched on long enough to get awkward, but Ashley didn’t break it.

Avoiding awkwardness around me was no longer a priority, after all.

“It feels like it’s been a year since I performed,” she finally said. It hadn’t even been two weeks. “I’m worried I’m starting to get a little rusty.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, feigning disinterest. Not particularly well, but enough—I suspect—to fool my overly-needy sister.

She needed to expose herself to me. It was, for the first time in her life, a priority.

And here’s the thing:

I hadn’t moved the paper.

I could have. I could have made it more vital than eating, than breathing. I could have made Ashley willing to run through the school naked, just for the chance of her brother seeing her tits.

But instead, I left it where it was. Exposing herself to me was now a priority in my sister’s life, and I knew she would act upon it.

Animals instinctively find food, shelter. We have sex out of a nature-driven imperative to further the species. We don’t question it; we do what we have to do.

And now, my sister had a similar need to reveal her body to me.

“If it’s not too much trouble…would you mind watching me, making sure I haven’t lost it? Your feedback has always been so helpful.”

My sister could strip off and do the Macarena, and I bet she’d still be a top-ranking model on the camsite. Before I’d started helping her out, her audience was already larger than some people who had been camming for years. Ashley’s body defies all reason. She’d transformed me into an incest-obsessed sisterphiliac, just by how fucking hot she is.

I didn’t tell her that, of course.

“Sure thing,” I grunted, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. “If you think it’ll help.”

Her relief was palpable. I briefly wondered what would have happened if I’d refused—would the new piece of paper with my name on it have started slowly drifted upwards in her priorities? Would she have gotten more and more desperate, until she was begging me, pleading with me to watch her dance?

As far as Ashley was concerned, I was just her helpful brother. Sure, we jerked off in front of each other sometimes, but I’d worked hard to make sure that was a casual thing. From my sister’s point of view, I wasn’t attracted to her—I was just doing what I could to assist with her new career.

Y’know. Like any good sibling would.

She grabbed my hand and practically ran up the stairs, leading me into her room.

As she began her routine, my brain was racing. Was this it? Was this the turning point? What would happen if I pulled my cock out halfway through her routine? Her desire to be watched, to be acknowledged…was it strong enough that she’d accept my arousal unquestioningly?

It was tempting. It was so, so incredibly tempting.

But I knew it wasn’t worth the risk. Having sex with Ashley was my priority, not just jerking off to her. I’d ensured that I could do that any time I wanted.

If this was going to work, I needed to take things slowly.

And so for the next half-hour, I restrained myself. I didn’t jerk off, I didn’t allow my eyes to reveal my lust.

I just watched.

For all her enthusiasm, Ashley started off quite nervously. I guess dynamic of a sex show is different when it’s just one person than when it’s a crowd. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was pretending that I was an audience larger than one. Was she mentally performing for her fans, or did she knew that the show was just for me?

Although…in her time as a stripper, she’d done more than a few private dances. Performing for a single person wasn’t something she’d never done before.

Although those had often ended in sex. Or at least some pretty intense touching.

Was that why she was nervous? Was she remembering how ‘private dances’ had ended for her in the past? Was she remembering the first time she’d performed for someone, and broken all the clubs rules by fucking him?

Was Ashley starting to picture me the way I’d seen her for so long? No longer as just a sibling, but as an object of desire?

I couldn’t ask. And as useful as her filing cabinet was as a window into her mind, even it couldn’t tell me.

After some brief fumbling, Ashley performed a routine I’d seen her do so many times before on the camsite. She started with a slow dance, twirling around, her knees together. Her hips led the way as her hands ran up and down her body, playing with the edges of her crop top, teasing me (and her imaginary audience, perhaps) before pulling it off.

She paused expertly, right before exposing her nipples, just as I’d taught her. She lifted her top and gasped as her breasts fell into view. Was that part of the show, or was she excited to be revealing her heavy tits to me?

I’d seen them all before, but…this was different. My sister was stripping for me.

Just for me.

My sister twirled around, her thumbs hooked playfully under her G-string. I watched, making sure to keep a disinterested expression on my face, as she slowly began sliding down her shorts, spreading her legs. Arching her back and sticking her ass out towards me, Ashley teased her G-string off, building anticipation, just like she would with her viewers.

As her sopping wet underwear finally slipped down with a pleasing flick, revealing her freshly-shaved pussy, I couldn’t help myself.

I groaned.

It was quiet, and I cut myself off immediately. But my sister’s actions made it clear that she’d heard me, that my small sound of arousal had made its way to her ears.

Maybe if I hadn’t seen it happen so often, I wouldn’t have recognized the signs. It was clear that her reaction was instinctive, not performative; I suspect what happened took her completely by surprise, just as it did me.

Without touching herself, without saying a word, standing less than a foot away from her brother, halfway through her routine…Ashley came.

The small sound of my arousal was enough to trigger an orgasm in my sister, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from widening when I realized what was happening. Within a few short moments, my sister’s face turned from a deliberately sultry gaze to an expression of shock to a look of unbridled lust as she twitched and trembled in orgasm.

My sister, ever the performer, didn’t let it stop the show. Once her climax passed and her eyes refocused, she continued performing as though nothing had happened.

As though the sound of my pleasure hadn’t just made her cum.

Fuck.

I wanted to jerk off.

On every level one can ever want to jerk off, I wanted to jerk off.

The sight of my sister was really enough just by itself, even when she was fully clothed. But when she was naked, performing a one-woman sex show just for me… _fuck_.

Yeah, I wanted to jerk off.

But it was more than that, obviously. It was the knowledge that I’d done this, that I’d been the one who had shifted my sister’s priorities so thoroughly that stripping for me wasn’t even something I’d had to _suggest_. Ashley had come to me, desperate for me to watch her routine.

Desperate for my eyes on her body. Her scantily clad, increasingly nude body.

My sister wanted me to see her wet pussy, her huge, pendulous tits. She wanted my eyes to cloud over with lust as I stared at her, my incestuous desire obvious. She wanted me to want her.

That was what made me want to jerk off most of all. The idea that giving into my desires, pulling my cock out in front of my Ashley and stroking my hard meat might actually _help_.

I mean, my sister had just cum from the sound of me moaning with pleasure at the sight of her wet cunt.

Just one little moan had triggered an orgasm. She hadn’t even touched herself; she’d just spontaneously cum, purely at the sound of my pleasure.

What would happen if I pulled my dick out and started masturbating?

I wanted to know. I wanted so, so desperately to know. My desire for my sister had had made the relatively low position of ‘Curiosity’ in my filing cabinet irrelevant; I was suddenly overwhelmed with questions. It felt like insomnia always had, but in the middle of the day. A constant rush of questions that I knew I couldn’t ignore.

Would this be it? If I pulled my cock out and started jerking it, would Ashley be so turned on that she’d fuck her own brother? Would she be appalled, and leave the room?

Or would she just keep on performing, pretending that nothing was amiss?

It was the third option I craved the most, honestly. I mean, obviously I _wanted_ to fuck my sister; that was what I’d been working towards for so long. But this felt wrong, like she’d be fucking me out of pure lust.

Again, don’t get me wrong; having Ashley fuck me because of lust would’ve been like mana from heaven. But, like heaven-mana, I knew it wouldn’t last. Either she’d have to feel that lust again each and every day, or she’d come to her senses and…

God, I didn’t even know what would happen. But no matter what, I knew it wouldn’t be good.

Not in the long term.

And so I restrained myself. My aching cock stayed in my pants, and I watched as dispassionately as I could as Ashley finished her routine. I didn’t moan, I didn’t jerk off—I played the part of the helpful brother, the uninterested observer.

For the next half hour, Ashley put everything she had into the show. She slid onto the bed and raised her butt up, showing off the wet pinkness that had just elicited a moan. She slapped her ass, rolled around on the bed and stuck her enormous tits out for my approval.

The hardest part (no pun intended) was when she pulled out her Hitachi. I’d seen her get off with the enormous vibrator more times than I could count, but there was something about knowing this performance was for _me_ , that she was getting off (deliberately, this time) purely for my watching pleasure.

She wasn’t just masturbating to masturbate. This was a show for Jacob, a performance for her brother.

My sister was cumming specifically for me to see. And, unlike the orgasms of the past few days, I didn’t have to pretend to ignore it. I could lean forward, tilt my head to the side.

I could visibily show Ashley that yup, I see you. I see what you’re doing. I see you getting off for me.

Even the power of the filing cabinet didn’t let me see inside Ashley’s head. And so as her buttocks clenched and her eyes rolled back in her head, I couldn’t help but wonder—what was she feeling as she came? Arousal, obviously, but was it mixed with shame? I’d spent months, maybe years feeling incredibly embarrassed as I came while thinking about my sister.

Did Ashley feel the same? As her perfect body twitched with pleasure, was she feeling guilty about how she felt?

Or had the cabinet done its work, and made her accept that getting off in front of her brother was a necessity, not something to feel embarrassed about?

When her orgasm was complete and her toy switched off, my applause made her laugh.

“Thank you, thank you,” Ashley said, bowing to an imaginary crowd. If she was feeling that beautiful cocktail of shame and passion, I feel like there would have been more tension.

Then again, my sister’s a master performer. Perhaps this was just part of the performance.

“Any advice?” she asked, and I shook my head.

“Good stuff,” I said, and she nodded.

“Thanks.”

I expected her to kick me out, to be honest. We’d just shared the most intimate moment I’d ever had with…anyone, honestly. Like, I’d seen my sister cum before, but she’d never done it _for_ me.

And I’d made her orgasm with a nod in the past, but it had been voluntarily. Controlled.

The first orgasm during her show? That had been real. Unexpected.

But—perhaps due to how much she prioritized Trust In Jacob—Ashley did nothing to suggest she wanted to be alone. She didn’t even put her clothes back on, just plopped her naked, sweaty body beside to me on the bed and asked if I wanted to watch some Netflix, rolling her eyes when I reminded her that the internet was still out.

We ended up watching some old movies she had on her hard drive—To Kill A Mockingbird, which I hadn’t seen before, and then Twelve Angry Men.

The entire time, I was tempted to pull out my cock and jerk it. I was so worked up, and had the right material presented itself, I don’t even think Ashley would have found it suspicious. But—shock!—black-and-white films about justice within the legal system don’t really inspire masturbation breaks.

As we watched the movie, I struggled to keep my eyes on the screen. Ashley’s flush slowly faded, her skin lost the sheen of sweat that it had built up as she’d danced—and then cum—for me, but…she was still naked. She was still my beautiful, sexy, naked, post-orgasmic sister. I’d fantasized about her body for years, and even after months of seeing her naked, it still hadn’t grown old.

I wanted to stare at her. I wanted to make her spread her legs so I could see inside her. I wanted to run my eyes over every part of her incredible body.

But that wasn’t the plan.

And so I controlled myself until our parents got home. Ashley got up, got dressed, and I made an excuse to return to my room so I could get myself off.

I’d like to tell you that this repeated itself every night for the next week, Ashley performing exclusively for me each and every day…but alas, that was not the case. That night, the internet returned. Ashley’s squeals of joy could be heard throughout the house—fortunately for our parents, her moans of pleasure half an hour later could not.

I tuned into my sister’s show, not really sure what I was expecting. A moment where she’d turn to the camera and say “Jacob, this one’s for you”?

It was a standard show…I mean, it was a _very good_ standard show (Ashley’s two weeks of pent-up frustration was matched by her audience, who had clearly missed her as much as she’d missed them), but there was nothing that told me what had happened was special, that it had changed anything.

But it had. Of that, I was sure.

Now, I just had to work out how to change it from a special, one-off occurrence…to the status quo.


	Chapter 15

It was four o’clock in the morning; far earlier than I normally woke up. Far earlier than anyone in my family woke up, in fact.

That’s why I was up.

Flashlight in hand, I’d made my way into the strange room. I’d made a beeline for my sister’s filing cabinet.

I was a man on a mission.

It took me almost two and a half hours to find it. After another ninety minutes, I would have had to give up. I would have had to come back another time, or accepted that it wasn’t there and added it myself.

But I didn’t want to add it. I still wasn’t sure how the filing cabinet worked—I doubted I’d ever fully understand it—but something told me that a need repeating itself was probably a bad idea. Remember HAL’s reaction when he had two competing priorities?

Yeah. I didn’t want Ashley _Daisy_ ing herself out of existence.

Of course, I really didn’t know. Maybe adding it in manually would have made the other version evaporate? Maybe it would have been fine.

I had no way of knowing, didn’t particularly want to experiment, and—above all—wanted to play it safe.

And so I spent almost three hours searching through my sister’s priorities, exploring folders until I found it:

‘Making The Perfect Video.’

It was in a folder within a folder within a folder. The more I searched, the more I was able to wrap my head around the system. ’Perfectionism’ contained a ’Professional’ subfolder, which contained a ’Camgirl’ subfolder, which contained more folders…and Making The Perfect Video, which was a single sheet.

The piece of paper listed everything I’d expected. Lighting, Sound Quality, Resolution, Performance, Composition…and, of course, Sexual Titillation. There was no need to add anything.

With a satisfied smile, I moved the piece of paper to the front of her cabinet, nestling it between Trust In Jacob and Exhibitionism.

Making the perfect tape was now going to be a higher priority to my sister than showing off her body.

I didn’t want to move too much around—that, I suspected, would lead to trouble—but I also shifted Short-Term Wealth a little further back. Not all the way, nothing that would risk making my sister suspicious. Just far enough that it wouldn’t get in the way of my plans.

Lastly, I opened up ‘Trust In Jacob’. Searching through the cabinet had given me a good idea of how everything was sorted, and so it didn’t take me long to find a subfolder marked ‘Assessment’, and a piece of paper within that which covered her camgirl career.

Using the marker I’d brought into the room with me, I added a note to the paper.

‘Knows What Makes A Good Tape,’ I wrote, as neatly as I could.

With a grin, I returned the paper to the cabinet, and made my way back to bed.

* * *

“Are you _sure_ it’s good enough?” Ashley asked, and I nodded.

“I promise,” I replied sincerely. She bit her lip, but she seemed satisfied.

She wanted it to be perfect. No, more than that; she _needed_ it to be perfect.

But without the knowledge to judge what made a tape perfect, she had to consult with me.

I’d created a need which only I could fulfill. I don’t know if there’s a name for that, so I mentally named it Jacob’s Loop.

Jacob’s Loop. Keep an ear out: it’s gonna be a thing.

After the internet had returned, things had mostly returned to normal. For the first week or two, Ashley had done two shows a day. She’d told me it was to rebuild her audience, but I knew the truth.

She had thirteen days of sexual frustration to burn off, and only two ways to do so. And now that the internet was back, the second option—me—was nowhere near as appealing.

I don’t know if my sister struggled with that. I don’t know if she woke up every day, tempted to dance for me again, unable to work out how to do that without seeming suspicious.

Maybe the return of the internet meant she simply never thought about it. I checked the folder a few times—‘Exposure To Jacob’ never moved, never shifted any higher or lower.

I wasn’t sure what to think of that, so I just let it be. Maybe it was a ‘lesser’ need, or however the hell the whole system worked.

Or maybe that need was just consistently being met by the videos we were making.

See, whenever my sister wasn’t performing, she was recording. She uploaded a new vid every two days or so; it would have been faster, but I insisted on maintaining my insanely high standards.

All part of the plan, man.

As well as that, I was starting to run out of ideas. My sister’s a great performer, but she’s not really a creative, and so she’d mostly just let me come up with different ways to package masturbation.

At first, it had been like a dream come true. Bikini masturbation video, schoolgirl outfit masturbation; anything I could imagine, my sister would willingly do. We’d even done a few with food; if it was for a tape, nothing was off-limits. Cucumbers and carrots had worked like a charm, but the banana had gotten a little…mushy.

The idea of it bursting inside of her had been enough to put me off the whole idea, and so we’d quickly moved away from vegetation.

But like I said…I’d eventually run out of ideas. My sister was happy to invest money into costumes, but when you can’t go outside (or outside the one room, really) there’s only so many ways you can repackage ;hot girl gets off’.

As well as that, the sales had started to drop off. It makes sense, really; you buy half a dozen videos of my sister getting off, how many more can you justify spending tokens on?

New video ideas and sales were both diminishing at roughly the same rate.

This might sound like I’m complaining; quite the contrary.

This, too, had been part of the plan.

* * *

“What do you mean?”

“You must have noticed we’re not selling as much as we used to.”

We. Ashley didn’t even question it. Videos of her naked body using toy after toy to get off…”we” weren’t selling as much as we used to.

“Well, yeah.”

My sister didn’t sound concerned. Money was now less of a priority to her; she didn’t care about sales nearly as much as she cared about the quality of the tape.

Which, of course, I’d known going in.

“If sales are dipping, it must be because the tapes are getting worse.”

That got her attention.

“Worse?”

“Yeah,” I said with a half-shrug. “I mean, why else would people stop buying them?”

“Oh,” she said, chewing her lip. Our parents were home, so my sister was dressed. I mean, barely. She was wearing a half-crop peasant top with no bra, and a pair of frayed jean-shorts.

It wasn’t _quite_ as hot as seeing her strut around naked, but it honestly wasn’t far off. She preened ever-so-slightly as my eyes drank in her body, before returning my focus to her face.

“Okay,” she finally said. “So let’s make better videos. Maybe let’s go back to the basics. I know that we can record a better take of that deepthroat dildo video, or we could just make another basic Hitachi show. Oh! Or maybe I could take three toys at once…”

I let her go on for a while, tilting my head to the side like I was listening. Obviously I wanted more, ever more…but I wanted more than the videos. I wanted my sister to be my complete sexual slave, obeying my every command.

Sometimes I watched the videos we made together. Weird, right? I basically had twenty-four access to my sister’s gyrating body, but sometimes I’d watch the tapes anyway. I’d fantasized about her for so long, and the footage was a reminder of how far I’d come. Ashley had gone from a distant dream to naked flesh at my complete command, every hour of the day.

Well, almost. She’d do most anything I asked…as long as I stayed behind the camera. It was amazing and frustrating, in roughly equal measures.

My favorite thing about the videos was knowing that I’d filmed them. Every shot of my sister’s pink pussy, every closeup of her eyes fluttering as she came…I couldn’t watch them without thinking about the fact that when it had happened, I’d been there. In the room, inches away from Ashley’s body as she’d climaxed.

I shook my head, and Ashley fell silent.

“No,” I said in a thoughtful tone. “You know what it is?”

“What?” she asked, hanging on my every word. I’d made this a top priority for her; I knew for a fact that there were only a dozen things more important to her than making the perfect tape, and that as far as she was concerned, I was the only one who could help her _make_ that tape.

Jacob’s Loop. It’s gonna be a thing.

“It’s all been done.”

Her forehead crinkled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…have you ever listened to a band talk about their worst albums? They’re always flops for the same reason—they weren’t pushing themselves, creatively.”

Ashley nodded, drinking in everything I was saying.

“You’ve mastered masturbation videos,” I continued. “You’re the queen of making your quim quiver.”

She smiled at my wordplay, and stuck her tongue out playfully. I returned her grin as I continued.

“You’ve _done_ everything you can with the form. If you want to get better, you’ve got to do something more than masturbation.”

There was a long pause as Ashley considered what I’d said. I mean, that’s the thing about art. I’m no artist, not really, but think about it: there’s no such thing as a perfect movie, or a perfect book. Anything that you might describe that way, someone else _hates_. You can’t please everyone, and no piece of art is ever ‘done’.

You could work on a book for your entire lifetime, and even on your deathbed, you’d still be finding things to change.

I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. I’d given Ashley a completely unattainable desire—to make the ‘perfect tape’. It felt like there was nothing I couldn’t make her do, in search of that impossible goal.

At least, that was the plan.

“Like what?” she finally asked, and I shook my head.

“I dunno,” I said. “Want to see what else the other girls do?”

“Of course,” she smiled, cuddling up against me as I opened the laptop.

That was a nice little side-benefit of what I’d done to Ashley. We spent so much time together now, we’d become genuinely close.

Like, we were close before, but now…I dunno. Then, we’d been siblings; now, we were closer to best friends.

Best friends who masturbated in front of each other. The _best_ kind of best friend.

It was nice.

But before long, we were going to be so much more.

“Okay,” I said, scrolling through the videos. “Looks like Pink Lily offers a bunch of Hitachi videos, some costume stuff…”

“We’ve done that.”

“I know,” I said, playfully shoving Ashley with my shoulder. “I’m just going through the list. She’s got some girl on girl stuff, a couple of blowjob videos….”

“Really?” Ashley asked, wrinkling up her nose. “Like, not with toys?”

“Nope,” I said, doing all I could to sound casual. “The site itself doesn’t allow guys, but there are no such rules for the videos. Anything goes, it looks like. Here’s one of her getting a facial. Oh wow, this one even has her fucking. She’s charging more than five thousand credits for that.”

I’d bought that video a long while ago. Pink Lily was a camgirl with a striking resemblance to my sister, and I’d been unable to resist laying down some serious cash to see her take a cock.

To imagine she was Ashley, and the cock she was taking was mine.

“Huh,” Ashley said thoughtfully, before turning to me. “…what should I do?”

I paused.

“I mean…”

“What?” Ashley asked. “I really want your advice here.”

“Well,” I said. “I mean. I dunno. What are you comfortable with?”

“Anything,” she said, rolling her eyes. “C’mon. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“No, I mean it,” I said, staring into my sister’s big blue eyes. “Like, what would you be okay with me filming?”

Ashley’s cheeks went slightly pink as she considered the question.

“Anything,” she repeated. “Like, if you’re cool with it.”

“I’m cool with whatever,” I said, possibly a little too quickly. “I just want to help you out.”

“Then yeah,” she said, after another moment of thought. “Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

My mind was racing as a million ideas competed for my attention all at once. My eyes flicked back to the computer screen. Ashley had built up quite a following. Maybe she’d be able to convince Pink Lily to make a trip to the US.

Maybe I’d get to film a long series featuring my sister and Pink Lily fucking.

No. No. This was a question for my brain to answer, not my dick. I imagined how someone would react if they came over, and Ashley was like “oh hey here’s my brother, he’s going to be recording your tongue in my snatch.”

Besides, even though Exclusivity With Sexual Partners wasn’t a priority for me, it didn’t mean that seeing her fuck other people was.

I wanted Ashley. I didn’t mind if others had her as well, but ultimately, my goal was to take her. In every way.

I wanted to see her lips wrapped around my cock. I wanted to watch her ass bounce as I fucked her. I wanted her to think of me every time she came.

“Well,” I said. “Girl-girl stuff probably isn’t going to work.”

“Why not?”

“You want to explain to them why your brother is holding the camera?”

Ashley shuddered. Avoiding awkward social situations was still one of her top priorities.

“I do not.”

To my delight, she didn’t even suggest doing it without me filming. To her, a perfect video was one that I was recording. Directing. The idea of making a tape without me behind the camera never even occurred to her.

Jacob’s Loop.

“I guess that rules out other guys, too.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean _other_ guys.”

Cripes. I’d forgotten how sharp my sister was. I’d been hoping to lead to this subtley, but she’d jumped straight to the point.

“I mean, like…”

My sister’s eyes were boring into me. I tried to keep my cool, but it was hard. Ashley’s stares can be…kind of intense.

“…I guess there’s me,” I said, trying to sound like I’d just thought of it. My sister raised her eyebrows at the suggestion.

“Oh?”

“I mean, like…”

Fuck. I had been planning to build up to this slowly. Maybe over a couple of conversations. While using her folder to check her reactions and shift her priorites.

But Ashley had just dropped me in the deep end. Fortunately, I’d developed an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of everything camgirl.

“…let me show you,” I said, buying myself a momentary reprieve.

A few clicks later, I had another camgirl up. Moaner Lisa, her name was—she was Russian, I think. We’d watched her once or twice, just to see if the Soviets had any useful tricks we could poach.

“Check this out.”

A lot of the videos had previews, sort of like trailers. Enough to give you a taste of what you’d be paying for—maybe a dozen two-second long shots of various positions.

I hit play, and Lisa’s eponymous moans filled the room. She was laying back on her bed, a toy between her legs…but she wasn’t the one controlling it.

A mystery hand was.

A man’s hand.

“This is probably the next step up,” I said, my eyes boring into the screen. I wanted nothing more than to look at my sister, to see if she was looking suspicious, but I knew that it was in my best interests to act completely nonchalant. “It’s still a toy video, but you’re not the one controlling the toy. Y’know?”

“Hmmm,” Ashley said, and I risked a glance. She, too, was staring at the screen. Her gaze had softened.

“That way,” I continued, “you wouldn’t need to get anyone else in, but also it wouldn’t be like we were doing anything weird.”

The unasked question hung in the air between us—wouldn’t it?—but Ashley stayed silent. Possibly because she wasn’t sure of the answer herself, possibly because she wanted to avoid an awkward situation by pointing it out…I had no idea.

Suddenly my sister’s fear of awkward situations was a liability, instead of a boon. If she thought it would be awkward, having her brother masturbate her, there was no way she was going to go forward with my plan.

At all costs, I needed to make sure that she didn’t suspect anything. If she knew I was doing this because I _wanted_ get her off, there was no way she’d agree.

My eyes lit up as I had an idea.

“Of course,” I continued, staring into my sister’s big blue eyes. “If I do this…”

I trailed off.

“What?” my sister asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

I twisted my mouth. “I mean, I don’t want to make things weird, but…”

“What is it?”

“I mean, if I was going to do this, I’d probably want to get paid.”

My sister paused.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I mean, I’ve been helping out for free, but this is sort of like performing. If I’m going to be _in_ the video, I think I’d want to get paid. Does that sound fair?”

“I guess,” Ashley replied. I could all but hear the gears turning in her head. Money was a much lower priority, so that wasn’t the issue. My hope was that by making this transactional, she’d find it much less weird. I wasn’t getting her off for my pleasure; I was doing it for the money.

“Yeah,” she finally said. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

I smiled.

“Let’s do this.”


	Chapter 16

As soon as Ashley started her show that night, I made a bolt for the tiny room.

I needed to know.

I _needed_ to.

If I’d opened my cabinet, I swear ’Knowing How Ashley Feels About The Upcoming Video’ would have been front and center, but I didn’t. I wanted to be quick; I went into the tiny room as rarely as possible, and _never_ when everyone was still awake.

But this priority had clearly superseded that one, and so I broke my own rule.

Ashley’s cabinet isn’t a catalogue of her thoughts, handy though that would be, but I’d started to work out which thoughts I could and couldn’t infer from going through her files. And so it only took me ten or fifteen minutes of searching before I found it.

A new folder. Not just a piece of paper, a new _folder_.

It was under ‘Jacob’ (just as I’d guessed it would be), and it was titled ‘Maintaining Normalcy’.

I’d searched right through my own folder in Ashley’s cabinet the other day…well, I say ‘right through’. With infinite files, that’s impossible, but once you get to Protecting Jacob From Lobsters, you know that you’re not going to find anything useful beyond that.

(Protecting Jacob From Lobsters, in case you were wondering, was a lower priority to Ashley than Protecting Jacob From Bear Attacks, just above Protecting Jacob From Falling Off A Train.)

Just the sight of the new folder told me everything I needed to know: Ashley wasn’t suspicious.

She was worried.

Like I said, everything we’d done so far had genuinely served to bring us closer. Even masturbating in front of each other—if you think of it less as a sexual thing, more as a…I dunno, ’bodily function’, it makes sense that we’d be closer once we were comfortable doing it in front of each other.

Camming, cumming, making videos: that was all part of Ashley’s job, and my involvement had been mostly passive (if you ignore the instructions I gave while directing her vids). Even directing was a fairly detached role, relatively speaking. No pun intended.

I was the coach, telling the players what to do; I wasn’t actually on the field.

But using the toy, actually being the one to get her off; to Ashley, that apparently felt like it was crossing some kind of line.

It crossed a line _and she still wanted to do it_. She was just worried about preserving our relationship.

I opened the folder. There were only a few pieces of paper inside, but they didn’t have clear headings. Maybe because the folder was new? I had no idea how long it took to ‘define’ these priorities, but clearly this one was still a little vague inside my sister’s head.

I took the papers out and skimmed them. They each had a bunch of seemingly unrelated items on them, like you’d see on a brainstorming board for a new project. Stuff like ’Make Sure To Keep Doing Non-Sexual Things Together’, ‘Try To Stay On Same Page With Jacob’, ‘Work Out How Comfortable He Is With Communication If Things Get Weird’, a couple of dozen items like that.

Then I saw it.

‘Do Not Let Self Become Any More Sexually Attracted To Brother’.

I read it again. And again, and again, and again. If I hadn’t known that it was such a risky hour to be in the small room, I could have read that line all night.

‘Do Not Let Self Become Any More Sexually Attracted To Brother’.

A smile slowly spread across my face.

This sentence—this one, weirdly-written, beautiful sentence—was everything I’d wanted to hear, and more.

Firstly, it told me that Ashley was worried about becoming sexually attracted to me.

No, scratch that.

Firstly, it told me that Ashley _was_ sexually attracted to me. Secondly, it told me she wanted to avoid becoming _even more_ attracted.

She was already into me, to some degree. I’d guess that had started when she’d danced for me, when she’d cum for me— _for_ me—but seeing it written down like this…

Fuck.

I couldn’t stop grinning.

My sister was into me (even if only a little) and she was worried about that attraction increasing.

Humans aren’t rational creatures. Sometimes we worry about stuff for no reason, irrationally scared of things that will never happen.

This? This wasn’t one of those times.

Ashley was worried she was going to grow more attracted— _more_ attracted!—to me, and I could see why.

As we worked hard to make the perfect video, I was going to be the one getting her off. Me. Her brother. My hand was going to be manipulating the toy between her legs. I was going to be responsible for orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

I was going to make her cum, again and again and again.

Of _course_ she was worried about that increasing her attraction to me.

My sister was only human. A guy giving her a mixture of the attention she so desperately craves, along with a near endless supply of orgasms?

That’s hot. That’s _hella_ hot.

And _I was going to be that guy_.

A part of me wanted to take this piece of paper and bury it as far back in the cabinet as it would go. Make ‘not being attracted to your brother’ one of Ashley’s lowest priorities, right back there with ‘Learning To Build Bunk Beds Out Of Coral’ or ‘Joining *NSYNC’.

But this was clearly a new thought, and I didn’t know what would happen if I moved it before it fully developed. Would it stunt its formation? Would this forever be a half-baked thought?

Knowing I had to play it safe, I relucantly put it back in the folder—at the very back, in the hope that small change would help.

But before I did, I added one small note, in the style of her other musings.

‘Remember That To Jacob, This Is Purely Professional’.

* * *

Ashley tried to focus on the camera.

The camera was why she was doing this. That was the thought that she desperately repeated to herself.

She was doing this for the camera. For her fans. For the audience. For the money.

For the video.

Over the past few months, cameras had become a huge part of Ashley’s life. They’d grown to represent so many things to her—mostly attention, at first, but also money. The camera wasn’t just a powered piece of plastic, it was the means by which she made the majority of her income; how she broadcast her image across the world.

At first she’d been intimidated by it. It was silly, really, being intimidated by an inanimate object. But it held so much power. So much potential. Earning potential, the potential to arouse strangers.

The potential to ruin her life.

Her brother had helped her move past that feeling of being intimidated, into the next stage: comfort. He’d taught her to interact with it like it was a person, or a pet. To focus her attention on it, but not too intensely.

He’d told her to treat it like an old family friend, and she’d obeyed. He’d been so helpful, and he’d been right, of course.

Six months ago, Ashley would have laughed at the idea of paying much attention to advice from her younger brother, but he was basically always right. How had she never before noticed how smart he was?

A blush crossed her face, and Ashley forced herself to refocus on the camera.

The camera. The camera. She was doing this for the camera.

It was important not to forget that.

Ever since Jacob had started advising her, her relationship with the camera had been great. Overwhelmingly positive.

And then he’d moved behind the camera, and things had…shifted.

She had continued to have a positive relationship with the camera. She was a pro, after all—it’s in the name. You can’t be a camgirl without being great around a cam. Camming had so quickly become second nature to her.

But ever since her brother had started being the one holding the camera, it’d been…different, somehow.

Jacob was her brother. He was gracious enough to help her out, of course, but when a camera is just clipped to the side of a monitor, it’s just a piece of plastic. A powerful piece of plastic, but still an inanimate object.

When it’s being held by your brother who’s telling you exactly how and where and when to cum, things are going to change.

Not for the worse, fortunately. Her brother really knew what he was doing, and Ashley was happy to obey, to do whatever he suggested.

After all, it was for the videos.

Making the perfect video had become an obsession, and if that meant following Jacob’s every instruction, that was what she’d do. It hadn’t surprised Ashley when she’d found herself becoming such a perfectionist; it’d been the same when she’d taken up bowling in Junior High. She’d been back at the lanes every week until she’d finally done it; she’d hit a perfect game.

This was the same thing, just a lot more…naked.

And profitable.

To avoid things being weird, Ashley had personified the camera. It wasn’t her brother ordering her around; it was the camera. The camera wanted exactly what she wanted: to make the perfect video. The camera had given her fans, fame, wealth. The camera was her ticket to a better life.

Ashley wasn’t delusional; she knew that it was Jacob behind the camera. But in the moment, it was easier to think of the camera. After all, who wants to think of their brother when they cum?

The blush was back.

That separation had gotten harder as they’d developed a more sophisticated language. Jacob would tilt his head to the side, she’d ramp things up. He’d tilt forward and stare at her, she’d cum.

But if she didn’t think about it too hard, it still all worked. Her partner in business, _the camera_ , was the one signalling to her. It was just…using her brother to communicate.

And so now, as her brother guided her favorite sex toy between her legs, Ashley focused on the camera.

The camera.

It wasn’t her little brother getting her off. It wasn’t her little brother masterfully sliding the toy up her thighs, toying with her, pausing, causing her to shiver with anticipation. It wasn’t Jacob shifting her favorite vibrator onto her pussy, making her bite her lip, knowing exactly how much pressure she liked, causing jolts of pleasure to pass through her body…

It was the camera.

Because otherwise, it would be weird.

It was very important to Ashley that things didn’t get weird. For most people, they would have crossed that line a _long_ time ago, but her relationship with Jacob was special. Very special.

There was that blush again.

It was honestly one of the things that she most proud of. If any of her friends’ brothers had discovered their sister was a camgirl, they probably would have been really judgmental about it. Jacob had not only been cool, he’d actually _helped_ —her income had been decent before, but with his help it had gone through the stratosphere.

Most siblings would probably have freaked out at the sight of their sister masturbating. But Jacob and her were clearly cut from the same cloth; he’d not only taken it in stride, but been comfortable enough to jerk off in front of her. After all, it was a natural bodily function, like blowing your nose.

Blowing your nose, blowing your load. Same difference, right?

Being comfortable getting off in front of each other had even managed to bring them to a new level of closeness. It wasn’t ‘normal’—Ashley knew that—but somehow that just made it even more intimate. They were so comfortable around each other, they could get off in the same room, knowing that they wouldn’t be judged or scorned by the other.

They could get off while they were in the same bed. It wasn’t sexual. Well, it was _sexual_ , but only in a biological way. It wasn’t like he was attracted to her.

Or her to him, she blushed.

Even when she’d been cut off from the internet, worked up, cooped up, desperate for attention…as she’d danced for him, all her pent up arousal had somehow boiled over, and she’d cum in front of him.

For him.

Her orgasm had been triggered by the sound of his arousal.

Most siblings would have found that _super weird_ , but Jacob had never brought it up, never made a thing out of it.

She was so, so lucky to have a brother like Jacob. He was so smart, such a good director, so good with his hands…

“Ungh…”

Like, there was a great example. Ashley had accidentally let out a moan of arousal, but Jacob wouldn’t be weird about it. He’d know that it was for the video they were making—the best video they’d made yet. God she wanted to make a perfect video. Jacob wouldn’t even _suspect_ that the sound had come from her thinking of him, of how good he was at using the toy, at the thought of imagining his hands on her directly…

Her eyes wide, Ashley turned her attention back to the camera. The camera, the camera, the camera. She was doing this for the camera. For her audience.

The heat between her legs was growing, and as Jacob— _the camera_ —pressed the toy against her vibrator, Ashley arched her back with arousal. She’d gotten incredibly good at controlling her orgasm while she masturbated—after all, that was now her _job_ —but this was different. For the first time since her adventurous night at the strip club, someone else was between her legs. Someone else was in control.

Her brother.

_The camera._

Jacob.

_The camera._

Ashley’s eyes fluttered, and she glanced at her brother— _the camera_ —for guidance. He’d know what to do. He’d know what would make the best video. He was getting her more worked up than she’d expected, and if he wasn’t careful, she’d cum, far earlier than they’d planned.

He really was _very_ good with his hands.

To her disappointment, Jacob’s attention wasn’t on her.

Well, it was on _her_ , just not on her face. He was staring, transfixed, at her glistening pussy.

“Ungh!”

Ashley loved attention; ever since her awakening on the bus, she’d known that she was a true exhibitionist. She had no idea why it had taken almost two decades to discover this fact about herself, but she didn’t care. It was who she was, to the core.

It was why she loved her job so much; it was why she had such affection for the camera.

_The camera._

But ever since she’d stopped stripping, the majority of her attention had been virtual. She knew the hungry eyes were there, of course. The jangling sound of donations, the lewd comments she got in her chat room; she had several channels of feedback, feeding her need, making her feel _seen_ , watched.

Wanted.

She had no shortage of exhibitionistic outlets, but having someone there in person (even her brother) transfixed by her snatch, clearly aroused, dedicated to bringing her pleasure…

“Oh!”

That one caught Jacob’s attention; he glanced up at her and nodded, their signal for her to be more vocal.

“Ohhhh…” Ashley moaned, surprising herself with the intensity of her outburst.

_Pull it together, girl,_ she silently told herself. At this rate, this video was going to be a complete bust, and they’d have to do it again, and again, and again…

“ _Ohhh…_ ”

To make the perfect video, of course. That was why she was doing this. For the money. Because it was her job.

For the camera.

That was absolutely what it was.

Jacob had pressed the toy against her clit, just how she liked it. Exactly how she liked it. She couldn’t have done a better job herself.

The thought made her blush. He was getting her off better than she could.

“Harder…” she gasped. “Please…harder!”

Her words were just for show. They’d decided on a script ahead of time. No matter what Ashley’s brother had done, she would have said the same thing.

As far as Ashley knew, her brother had never had a girlfriend. Apparently watching her get herself off several hundred times had served as a crash course in how to please a woman…or maybe just her specifically.

It probably wouldn’t transfer to other women. No, she’d inadvertently trained her brother to expertly and exclusively get _her_ off.

Ashley knew that thought shouldn’t have made her smile, but it did.

Jacob was looking at her again, and she tried to refocus her attention. He tilted his head to the side, and she increased her passion.

Not particularly hard. Considering that she was his first ever woman, he was…—

“Oh, _fuck_.”

Jacob raised one eyebrow. That hadn’t been part of the script.

Ashey’s outburst had been completely involuntary. She’d never thought about her brother’s inexperience before, not really. Their casualness around each other had meant that she never thought of what they were doing as something _sexual_ , and so she’d never considered that she was probably the first woman he’d seen naked.

The first woman he’d seen cum.

The first woman who’d seen _him_ cum.

For the rest of his life, Jacob would be comparing every sexual encounter he had with her. Every time he assessed a woman’s body, their orgasm, the sounds they made when they were turned on…he’d be directly comparing them to her.

And Ashley knew she’d be hard to measure up against.

The thought was surprisingly hot.

Had she accidentally ruined her brother for other women? He’d still be able to enjoy watching other camgirls, but in the flesh?

She tried to think about something else— _anything_ else—but the thought was in her head, and it wasn’t going away.

From Jacob’s point of view, she knew that what they were doing was purely professional. It was really important for her to know that. If what they were doing wasn’t professional, then…well, she didn’t want to think about it.

She wanted to keep things normal between them.

Their relationship was completely platonic. Jacob was doing this to help his sister with her job. And more than that— _he_ was getting paid for this too. It wasn’t like this was something they were doing for fun.

Fun though it was.

They were friends, siblings, but right now—as he increased the intensity of the toy pressing against her clit, filling her with erotic energy, making her feel like a swarm of butterflies had formed in her stomach and were flying through her entire nervous system—right now, this was a _professional_ relationship.

He was just doing a job.

Of course…job or no job, it wasn’t like he was just _watching_ any more. It wasn’t like the first time he was with a real woman—well, a woman who wasn’t his sister—he’d still be dazed by the fact that he got to touch her, that he’d get her off.

He was doing that with her, right now.

And Ashley hadn’t let herself think about it, not really, but she knew they’d be doing more than that. She’d seen the kinds of videos she’d have to make, if she wanted to stay competitive.

If she wanted to continue to improve.

And Ashley knew for sure that she wanted to continue to improve.

She’d have to move past toys, and Jacob was the only one she could trust. They’d move past him controlling plastic.

He’d touch her, directly.

She’d touch him.

She’d jerk him off for the camera—it’d look great. He had a really beautiful cock…not that she’d ever looked at it that way.

He’d cum on her body. On her face. She’d lick his seed off her skin, smiling at the camera as she did.

She’d swallow Jacob’s seed.

She’d suck his cock.

She’d suck her brother’s cock on camera, and she’d love it.

Ashley’s eyes rolled back in her head as she came, her orgasm overcoming fast enough that she didn’t have time to give Jacob any of the signals they’d mastered over the hundreds of videos they’d shot together. Her entire body twitched with pleasure as her climax rolled over her, quicker than she’d expected. The combination of her brother’s unanticipated skill and her own surprisingly dirty thoughts had gotten her off faster than she’d ever cum before.

She just hoped it hadn’t ruined the video. Because if it had, they’d have to film it again. And again, and again, and again…

As she came, Jacob continued to press the vibrator against her clit, causing the ripples of pleasure to echo, to fade out slower than they would have otherwise…

When the room stopped spinning with pleasure, Ashley smiled up at her brother. He’d been so good. So, so good.

So _professional_.

“Cut!” he said, a slight frown on his face. He didn’t look mad, just…disappointed.

Ashley blinked twice, her cheeks red with post-orgasmic glow.

“So,” Jacob said thoughtfully. “I have some notes…”


	Chapter 17

Do you know what C.S. Lewis thought was the most beautiful word in the English language?

He was extremely religious (Aslan is Jesus and all that) so you might think it was, like, forgiveness or mercy or grace.

But no. He thought the most beautiful word in all of English was ‘cellar door’.

When I first heard that, it didn’t make sense to me. Like, I hear cellar door (which I guess is two words, now that I think about it) and I think dark and dusty and damp. Definitely not, like, beauty.

But then one day I saw a thread discussing it, except they didn’t spell it as two words. They spelled it ’Selador’, and I suddenly got it. There’s something about the way it rolls off the tongue, it has an almost ethereal quality. _Selador_.

So if you’d asked my opinion up to about a week ago, I would probably have said yeah, cellar door/Selador is the most beautiful word in the English language. At least, I wouldn’t have been able to come up with anything more striking.

But then, all of a sudden, the word ‘rehearsal’ became very important in my life.

Rehearsal. Such a great word. Such a beautiful concept.

It turns out no, practice doesn’t _make_ perfect. Practice, in the right circumstances, _is_ perfection.

We were halfway through filming a video when the thought first struck me.

And you might be wondering how it was even possible for me to be _getting my sister off_ and able to think of anything else. Which, fair enough, good point.

When I was kid, one of our cousins got an annual Disneyland pass, but when we went to visit they’d sometimes be like “Eh, no, I don’t really want to go this weekend”. It just didn’t make any sense. It was _Disneyland_. But now that I’m a little older, I get it. It’s like eating chocolate for every meal; after a while, you start craving something a little more solid.

Don’t get me wrong. Getting my sister off, controlling her orgasm, making her cum…it was better than Disneyland. Better than chocolate. And far better than Chocolate Disneyland (which frankly sounds like a disaster).

I was nowhere close to getting sick of it. Watching my sister’s eyelids twitch as my hand brought her to climax—it was the most erotic experience I’d ever had. The best experience of my life, period.

But as she moaned, I found myself wanting to give her notes.

Partially, and I know this is going to sound weird, because directing these videos had actually made me a bit of a perfectionist. I had to fool my sister into thinking that I was, after all, and I guess you eventually become the mask you wear. To keep up the ruse that I was a complete expert, I’d found myself watching a bunch of cinematography stuff on YouTube, buying similar vids the ones we were making, and watching them critically. So, yeah, I had some pretty good ideas about how to improve the execution.

But mostly because I didn’t just want to make my sister cum.

Le me rephrase. I didn’t _just_ want to get my sister cum.

Experiencing Ashley getting off: watching her face and hearing her sounds and smelling the scent of her pussy…it was the hottest thing I’d ever been a part of.

But it had never been the end goal.

Sex With Ashley was the finishing line, and the only way to cross it was to keep on moving. I guess you can argue that what we were doing was a form of sex, but not really. I didn’t just want to give my sister orgasms, glorious though that was.

I wanted to experience them from inside her.

I wanted to feel her wrapped around my dick, experience the sensations of Ashley milking the cum out of me. To see her on her knees in front of me, enthusiastically obeying my every whim.

To know that my sister lived to be my personal sex-toy.

And so I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until Ashley understood _exactly_ what I liked. What I wanted from her.

The end goal wasn’t just to get my sister off, it was to make her yield to my every desire.

For that to work, she needed to be obedient. She needed to know what I wanted, and give it to me, ideally before I even asked.

She needed to be desperate to please me.

So when my sister moaned in a weird way, or came too early, or got distracted and forgot to present her body to me the exact way I wanted, it bugged me.

I’d accepted it at first—again, you get infinite free trips to Disneyland, you don’t complain about the parking—but then an alternative had occurred to me.

Rehearsal.

What a beautiful word.

The day after I came up with the idea, my sister’s lips were stretched around one of her toys—a big black dildo one of her fans had bought her—and my hand was between her legs.

We were rehearsing.

“Rehearsing.”

I’d told her (not entirely dishonestly) that I didn’t have a huge amount of experience touching a woman, and that I wanted to be able to get better at it with real-time feedback, hearing exactly what she liked in the moment (without the distraction of needing to hold a camera at the same time).

Ashley, very flatteringly, had told me that she doubted I had anything to worry about, but I’d insisted.

The first few times she hadn’t been deepthroating a sex toy, of course. She hadn’t even been wearing make-up. From the outside, you might have thought it was an experienced woman guiding her new boyfriend through the mechanisms of sex. You never would have guessed that we were brother and sister.

She’d just moved my hand to her freshly-shaved pussy, and was talking me through how she liked to be touched.

I’m going to be honest; none of it was a surprise. I’d watched my sister get off more times than I’d eaten cereal. (And a few times, I’d done both at once.) Ashley was often naked, sometimes fully-clothed, occasionally dressed up in all manner of costumes. I’d seen her use her hands, toys…and, of course, _I’d_ started using toys on her.

But to actually touch her? We were crossing the most taboo line yet.

And while a part of me wished that I had video record of my first time laying hands directly upon my sister’s pink pussy, there was something so hot about the intimacy of it.

This wasn’t for money. This wasn’t for an audience.

This was my sister, showing me how to touch her.

My sister was guiding my hand, showing me how she wanted me to get her off.

As my finger parted Ashley’s lips, dipping into the wetness inside, it was all I could do not to groan aloud.

She was watching me, so I made sure to keep my poker face. This was business. Educational. I wasn’t touching my sister because I wanted to get her off, I was learning how it worked so the videos would be better.

To make both of us more money.

So far as my sister was concerned, it _definitely_ had nothing to do with a long-held sexual fantasy, or moving one step closer feeling my dick inside her.

As the first lesson continued, my sister got quieter and quieter. Her eyes began to cloud with lust, and I caught her biting her lip once or twice. I pretended to be dispassionately interested, asking questions about what _this_ felt like, and if she enjoyed it if I did _that_.

Ashley’s responses grew breathier, and so I started taking more liberties. I moved one hand to her tit—a little forward, perhaps, but something told me she wouldn’t object.

Sure enough, she simply arched her back in response, and I had to work even harder to avoid showing my true feelings.

To avoid her seeing my cock thickening.

I’d admired my sister’s tit from afar for so long. Now here it was, in my hand, plump and full. I pinched her nipple (as I’d seen her do to herself so many times) and enjoyed the lustful gasp I got in response.

In my time behind the camera—or watching my sister’s show from the next room over—I’d seen the way her pussy glistened more as she got closer to cumming, but this was the first time I’d _felt_ it, the increased slickness of her passage as I pumped two fingers in and out, rubbing her clit with my thumb, mauling her right tit with my left hand.

“I’m going to cum,” she gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Fuck. Jacob, I’m…”

Allowing myself a grin, I curled my fingers the way she’d shown me.

In the past week, as I’d fucked my sister with a toy, I’d felt the increased resistance as she came. Now, as she climaxed around my hand, I could feel the clenching directly; it wasn’t a single grab, it was a throbbing pulse. Clench, clench, clench, clench.

Soon enough, I’d feel it around my cock.

My sister’s orgasms are interesting. Sometimes, when she’s in performance mode, she can have what looks like a powerful orgasm, then jump straight back into her hosting duties, thanking her audience and pointing them towards her social media.

But sometimes, it’s like she gets…foggy. Like the orgasm drained her brain. If she’s on camera, she’ll still say all the lines, but they won’t be quite as smooth.

And when she wasn’t on camera, if we were just masturbating together (god I loved my life) and she got foggy, she’d just stretch out like a cat, this big satisfied look on her face.

This was different.

After she came, she had that satisfied look on her face, and she _definitely_ looked foggy. But it wasn’t a general malaise.

Instead, she was looking at me adoringly.

Worshippingly.

I’d gotten her off; not for the camera, not for a video. I’d touched my sister, rubbed her clit until she came, and she looked…grateful.

Loving.

Impressed.

I couldn’t have been harder.

Part of me was tempted to just pull it out and start jerking off. Honestly, maybe I should have. I had my sister so well-trained, she likely wouldn’t have blinked an eye, and in her post-orgasmic state she looked so…obedient.

But again—that wasn’t my priority. Above all else, I was moving towards Sex With Ashley, and I couldn’t do anything that would risk that. It just wouldn’t be worth it.

Hot though it would have been to have her lay there, content and submissive, and watch me stroke myself. Watch my fingers, covered in her juices, touch myself until I came.

I didn’t jerk off. But I did do something a little risky. I moved my hand to her mouth.

Ashley’s eyes widened oh-so-slightly, but she didn’t hesitate. Her lips parted, and I felt her soft tongue around my digits, as she sucked them clean of her own girl-cum.

“Thanks,” I finally, said, breaking the silence. “I think that was helpful.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said in response. “Not a problem,” she repeated when I pulled my hand out.

All the videos we’d shot in the last week had been variations on a single theme: me using a toy on her while she looked at the camera and begged me not to stop. They were good—the sales numbers had confirmed what my dick already suspected—but now that we’d crossed a new boundary, I knew I could push things further.

And so over the next few days, we mixed things up. The first video or two were just me fingering her, making her cum with my hand.

To my delight, the videos even managed to capture that look of submission, of total adoration. It wasn’t quite as good as capturing my first time touching my sister would have been, but I was pretty glad I had it.

At the end of the vid, I even recorded my sister licking my fingers clean. I was delighted to learn it looked as hot on camera as it did in-person.

But after we’d done that twice, I started pitching other ideas.

Nothing more complex, just…different.

Different enough to require rehearsal. Sometimes a few rehearsals, just to be safe.

“Great work,” I murmured, as my sister gagged on the huge toy. “But it’s not quite right.”

My sister’s eyebrows furrowed at my note, but (for obvious reasons) was unable to respond.

I tutted thoughtfully, my fingers never slowing down for a moment. I loved the feeling of power I had over my sister. The more I’d gotten her off with my hands, the more I’d learned how to control her orgasm. If I felt she was close, I’d slow down, or stop, or—in extreme circumstances—remove my digits entirely.

The look of desperation on my sister’s face as her pussy attempted to chase my fingers, following them as if trying to suck them back up…it turned me on almost as much as the feeling of being inside her.

Finally, I snapped my fingers (the ones on my left hand, not the fingers buried deep inside my sister’s tunnel) and nodded.

“I’ve got it,” I said. “It doesn’t feel real.”

Ashley’s eyes widened in response, and I suddenly realized what I’d implied.

“No no no,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Not like that.”

Not yet.

“I mean…I’m touching you, and you’re sucking on the toy, but it’s like they’re two separate things.”

A narrowing of her eyes was all the response Ashley could to give me.

“Here,” I said, reaching behind my sister and grabbing her hair. Tightly, but not so tight as to hurt her. I read somewhere that grabbing a girl’s hair at the back sends signals straight to the primal part of her brain. Apparently it’s an echo of like, monkeys biting each other on the back of the neck to show dominance.

I don’t know how accurate that is, but I can tell you—my sister got real wet whenever I did it. “You need to imagine that the toy you’re sucking on is a cock. A real one.”

Ashley’s nostrils flared, and—to my delight—I felt her cunt clench around my fingers. In arousal, I hoped, not fear.

“In the video, you’re being played with by a guy,” I continued, trying to keep a degree of separation. “I want you to pretend that the toy you’re sucking belongs to him as well. Except it’s not a toy. It’s his cock.”

Ashley nodded, and I began moving her head up and down the toy.

“Oh yes,” I said, “this is much better.”

My fingers, which had briefly paused as I explained what I wanted, resumed sawing in and out of Ashley’s tightness.

“Great,” I said supportively. “Yes, this is exactly what we want it to look like. Really imagine it; you’re not just choking on a toy for the fun of it, you’re sucking a cock. You’re sucking the cock of the guy who’s fingering you.”

My cock. Your brother’s cock. You’re sucking your brother’s cock.

_Soon_.

“Perfect! Yeah, this is going to make the video look so much better.”

Again, Ashley’s pussy tightened at my words. My poor sister—my alterations to her filing cabinet must have really messed with her. Performing, making a video, arousal, me touching her…they were all mixed up in her brain.

If Morality was a higher priority, that probably would have bothered me.

Feeling my sister getting slicker, I decided to push things.

“Uh huh, great,” I smiled. Ashley was staring at me intently, her eyes watering as I forced her head back and forth on the toy. “I want you to focus on my fingers. Focus on the pleasure my fingers are bringing you.”

My sister’s eye twitched with arousal as she did as I commanded.

“Move one hand up to your tit, and pinch your nipple.”

My sister obeyed.

“Great. Think about my fingers. Think about how good my fingers feel inside you. Think about how nice it feels when I touch your clit.”

The look of lust in Ashley’s eyes told me that she was doing exactly as I ordered.

“Now, when you cum, I want you to focus on my cock. My cock, deep inside your throat. Pretend that I’m cumming in your mouth, like that’s what’s triggering your orgasm.”

Ashley let out a long guttural moan at my words. I could tell that she was lost in the fantasy. The fucked-up, incestuous fantasy that I’d spent the last few months slowly building inside her. Slowly shaping her to be a part of.

“I’m cumming,” I said smoothly. “I’m cumming down your throat, Ash. I want you to cum. Cum for me as you suck me. Cum for me while you swallow my cock…”

At that, I could feel Ashley’s vaginal walls clenching around my fingers, her body spasming as she came on my hand. My sister is a performer to the last, and she never stopped staring straight up at me, even as her entire body twitched with pleasure.

When she was done, I released her hair, although I kept my fingers inside her. Casually, like I hadn’t even noticed.

Like a brother having two fingers deep inside his sister’s pussy was completely normal.

Well, I guess for us…it was.

She was hazy—it was another of those foggy orgasms—and so I gave her a minute to recover. Ashley pulled the black toy out, that satisfied smile never leaving her face.

“That was really good,” I said. “We could probably film that…or we could do one more rehearsal, if you wanted.”

My sister’s eyes widened, and I would have given anything to hear the debate that I was sure was going on in her head. Finally, I took mercy on her.

“You know what, I’d feel more comfortable with one more rehearsal. Let’s go again, ’kay?”

“Of course,” Ashley nodded earnestly. “Whatever you want, Jacob.”


	Chapter 18

Last week, I updated the first seventeen chapters of this story, adding thousands of new words. If it’s been a while since you read the rest of the tale, this is a good time to revisit it.

My fingers were pressed firmly against my sister’s clit as she moaned. After Ashley came (for the fourth time that day: two rehearsals, then two takes of the video), she slowly, shudderingly pulled the toy out from between her legs and licked it clean.

“Thank you,” she said to the camera, the breathy voice that we’d rehearsed slipping effortlessly from her lips. “Thank you, master.”

Just a few months ago, this would’ve been nothing but a wet dream. Now…it was a pretty regular day for us.

I watched her carefully as I put the camera down, and sure enough: just for a moment, there was a weird moment of tension between us.

Weird not because we were brother and sister, or because she’d just recorded a video of me getting her off that would soon be seen by thousands of masturbating fans (who would have no idea they were observing an incestuous act). No, weird for _us_.

Ashley was so unquestioningly accepting of the life I’d built for the two of us; what once would have been taboo was now so normal. Me filming her, touching her, getting her off a few dozen times each week.

The tension was because of something else. Something I’d been working towards for more than a week.

I didn’t acknowledge the odd moment, of course. As far as Ashley was concerned—and this was important—I was just doing this for the money, and to support my sister. She thought this was just a job to me; that if she’d started a business selling rocks, I would have been just as helpful.

To her mind, I filmed her because it helped her out. I touched her because it would ensure the videos made more money. And she obeyed my every command because it improved the work.

Ashley had no idea I went back to my room each night and rubbed one out while smelling my fingers. Tasting them. Tasting _her_.

Tasting what would oh-so-soon be mine.

So why were things weird?

Well, the tension was because Ashley was building up the courage to ask me to cross yet another line. That was the beauty of it— _she_ was going to ask _me_.

My sexual goddess of a sister was tense, because she was nervous about asking me if she could suck my cock.

For a video, of course. It was the logical next step—we’d both known it for a while now. The sales had started to drop off on her other vids…don’t get me wrong, they were still making a pretty penny. But her fans were starting to tire of seeing her get off, or watching a stranger’s hand bring her to orgasm.

They wanted more. And we’d both done enough research to know what escalation the audience expected.

The next step was a blowjob video. It had to be.

But I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, and my sister was finding it a difficult topic to broach.

I’d barely needed to do anything to set this into motion. I’d maybe nudged the first domino before sitting back and just watching the rest start falling.

The insight that my sister’s filing cabinet provided into her mind helped, of course. The more time I spent reading through her files, the easier it was to interpret her day-to-day mood.

It wasn’t like Inside Out or anything, convenient though that would’ve been. There wasn’t a ‘Conscious Thoughts’ file, or a hidden ‘Sexual Fantasies’ drawer. But I was starting to really learn the system. When I say that a blowjob video had been on both of our minds for weeks, that wasn’t conjecture. I knew.

I’d found a scrap of paper—like a half-thought, an idle musing—‘Giving Head On Camera’.

Jackpot.

Even better, it wasn’t new. Like, none of the files have dates or anything like that, but…you spend enough time in sifting through them, you start to pick up on stuff. When a priority is totally fresh—like ’Get The New Logitech Webcam’ had been the day after it was announced—the paper is brighter, the text more vivid.

‘Stop Jacob From Spanking My Butt’, meanwhile, had been written in faded ink on yellowing paper. That was something I’d always done to my sister as a kid to annoy her.

I’d found that pretty early on and, needless to say, moved it to the very back of the drawer, right behind ‘Try Every Kind Of Ramen’. Soon, if all went well, ‘Have Jacob Spank My Butt’ would be one of my sister’s top priorities.

I’m not a cruel man. I’d happily, happily oblige.

So Ashley’s ‘Giving Head On Camera’ need was apparently one that she’d had for a while, since before I’d ever found the drawer. Maybe it was normal curiosity, or maybe it had always been part of the ‘Exhibitionism’ folder that I’d first moved up.

Either way, the events of the past few months had moved an odd, old desire way up the priority list.

And, for reasons I hope I don’t need to explain, I immediately moved it higher again.

So yeah. After the video, as my sister sat up for notes, there was a hint of tension between us. We could both feel it, and we both knew what it was…except Ashley, of course, had no idea that I knew.

I fiddled with the camera, wondering if she’d seize the opportunity to bring it up, but the moment passed. I filled the silence by telling her what I’d liked about the video and what I hadn’t.

I couldn’t be the one to bring up the idea, to suggest she use her mouth on me, wrap her perfect thick lips around my cock, use her tongue to massage cum out of my throbbing erection. It had to be her.

Being the one to broach the subject could be disastrous. Not nearly as bad as it would’ve been six months ago, of course…heck, not even as bad as it would’ve been one month ago.

But still potentially disastrous.

With enough time, my sister would bring it up, or—at the very least—drop a hint. I was sure of it.

“Do you want to go again?” I asked, instead of what I really wanted to ask her. What we both did. “Or do you want to try something different?”

Ashley’s eyes widened, and there it was again. It was an active effort not to hold my breath as she bit her lip thoughtfully (something I would have found sexy even if she wasn’t completely naked, her juices on my fingers).

“No,” she finally said. “If you think that one was good, I believe you.”

Tempted though I was to say something, to take the initiative, I couldn’t.

It was in her hands now.

* * *

Between her shows, her videos, and the numerous rehearsals her perfectionist brother insist she do, Ashley rarely needed to masturbate.

It was an odd day when she wasn’t required to get off at least three or four times. So it wasn’t that she didn’t _enjoy_ masturbation; her needs were just taken care of by her job.

_By my brother_ , she thought with a shiver.

Ashley was an exhibitionist. Ever since that day on the bus, she’d accepted this simple fact about herself.

She wanted to be watched. She _needed_ to be watched.

Stripping had scratched the itch, then camming had made it more profitable than she ever could have imagined.

But having someone there, in the room, watching her cum—it was the best of both worlds.

Even if that someone was her brother.

Getting him involved in her business…she wanted to say that had been a mistake. She _wished_ she regretted it, but, gun to her head, Ashley would have been forced to admit that it was one of the smartest things she’d ever done.

With Jacob’s help, she’d doubled her income, then tripled it, then doubled it again. He’d taken her potential to the limits. He really knew what he was doing.

And he was so laid back about the whole thing. Even when she’d needed someone to touch her on camera, he hadn’t hesitated.

He’d been completely professional. Why couldn’t she be the same?

That was the worst part of it: it made sense. She couldn’t even be too mad at herself for having the thoughts; anyone else in her position would have done the same thing.

It was human nature, probably hardcoded into people. If someone gets you off, if someone brings you sexual pleasure, you start…

_Being attracted to them,_ Ashley thought with a blush.

She was. She was attracted to her brother. She knew she _shouldn’t_ be—and he certainly showed no sign of being attracted to her. He was the normal one, and she was the freak.

Part of her wanted to cut it off, to end things right there. But if she did…

She’d make less money.

The thought filled her with dread, and it was followed by several more chilling realizations.

Her videos would significantly drop in quality. She’d never achieve the perfect video that she was striving for.

And—worst of all—it might change her relationship with her brother.

That was unthinkable. Keeping a good relationship with Jacob was key. Above all, she wanted to maintain normalcy with her sibling.

Which is why she felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. The conflict was filling her with nervous energy.

Sexual energy.

And so despite her career requiring near-constant orgasms each and every day, they hadn’t been enough. For the past few days, Ashley had been insatiable.

She knew the next step she had to take, but she couldn’t do anything that risked freaking her brother out.

But she knew what she had to do…

She _had_ to.

The thought had been running around her head for days, like the central gear of an engine connected directly to her libido. Whenever she thought about it, she got worried. Scared.

Excited.

_I shouldn’t be thinking about this,_ she told herself in the early hours of the morning, one hand snaking between her legs. _It’s so…wrong._

Most nights, getting herself off quickly was the only thing that let her sleep.

Sometimes it wasn’t enough. On some nights, she required another orgasm or two to calm her mind and allow slumber to overtake her.

It wasn’t a bad thought, Ashley reminded herself. Not in and of itself. For most people it would have been an unthinkable thought, but most people didn’t have the relationship that Ashley did with her sibling.

No, the problem wasn’t the thought. The thought, she knew, made sense for her business. For her career.

The problem was not the thought, but the feeling that the thought gave her.

It was almost four in the morning and Ashley couldn’t sleep. Her show had ended around midnight, and—despite getting off twice—her body was aglow.

Warm at the thought.

Warm at the feelings it brought.

Part of Ashley, a secret part buried deep down inside, where she didn’t allow her thoughts to dwell for too long…the darkest part of Ashley wished that her brother _wasn’t_ so professional about it.

That instead, her brother felt the same way about her as she did about him.

Typically these thoughts would be banished, sent away before they could do any harm.

But if they surfaced while she was touching herself, while her hand was expertly—professionally—touching the spot her brother’s had been just a few hours earlier, she would let the thoughts linger, just a little.

If she made her brother feel the same way about her as she did about him (her mouth gaped with arousal at the thought) he wouldn’t just be a business partner. Jacob wouldn’t just be watching her to make sure her shows made as much money as possible.

He’d be watching her to watch her.

Ashley moaned at the thought.

He wouldn’t just be touching her because she needed a male hand to make the video work…he’d be touching her to touch her.

If Jacob wanted her as much as she wanted him, Ashley mused, her index and middle fingers thrumming her aching clit, he’d get her off because he wanted to get her off.

Because he wanted her.

Ashley wanted to maintain normalcy with her brother. She wanted that more than anything. But…they’d transitioned smoothly into their current working relationship. Now, even as he got her off with his hands, there wasn’t even a hint of awkwardness about it.

Who was to say this wouldn’t go the same way?

And if it did…

Ashley’s eyes rolled back in pleasure at the thought.

The thought.

_I should ask my brother if I can blow him._

The naked girl’s hips jerked forward, thrusting her ass off the bed as a powerful orgasm wracked her body.

Just the idea of _asking_ him was enough to get her off.

She didn’t know how she’d hide her arousal if it ever actually happened.

Which it couldn’t, of course. It would never happen because she’d never ask him. She couldn’t. What if it ruined their relationship forever?

Ashley had never been an anxious person, but she’d never before had so much on the line.

If she didn’t do something…her sales wouldn’t dry up, exactly, but she knew that a significant portion of her fanbase wanted more.

The first video they’d made of her gagging on a plastic cock while her brother finger-fucked her…it had broken all her sales records. It had sold as much as the bottom half of her catalogue _combined_.

The audience wanted to see her suck a cock. And they weren’t alone… _she_ wanted to see herself suck a cock. It had been an idle fantasy for as long as she could remember, but she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head lately.

Seeing her own face as a cock parted her lips, sliding into her mouth…

_Her brother’s cock._

Ashley had been planning on going back to sleep after her third post-show orgasm, but her nipples tightened at the idea of watching a video of it.

Jacob’s cock, the one she’d seen so many times as he casually got off beside her.

Wrapping her ruby-red lips around it, taking it deep into her throat.

Swallowing his seed.

“Ungh.”

Ashley paused for a moment, panting.

Something was wrong about that image. Something was _so_ wrong.

That was it: she wouldn’t swallow it. Not directly.

Ashley had watched more than enough blowjob videos to know how they ended.

Just as her brother was going to cum, she’d pull his erection from her mouth and aim it at her face.

The camera would capture her expression as Jacob unloaded, coating her closed eyes with his cum. It would drip down onto her bare breasts, and then she’d open one sticky eyelid, smile up at the camera, and thank him.

_Then_ she’d swallow it.

But it would never happen. _Could_ never happen. Her anxieties wouldn’t let it. Ashley’s most scared thoughts wouldn’t let her ask.

For just as bad as the idea that he’d say no, that Ashley’s brother would reject her and think of her as a freak…was the prospect that he’d agree.

He’d agree, and she’d give herself away. She’d be too enthusiastic, or he’d notice her cumming, his pleasure triggering an orgasm of her own.

She had no idea what she’d do if he noticed. If he knew how she felt about him. If Jacob was made aware of the sick, twisted, incestuous thoughts that ran through her mind late at night.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. A third possibility wormed its way into Ashley’s mind, a scenario worse than the first two put together.

What if Jacob agreed to let his sister blow him, Ashley managed to hide her true feelings…and he wasn’t into it?

Brothers and sisters weren’t naturally attracted to each other, after all. It was only the unique situation she’d found herself in—her brother’s hand, helping her make porn—that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

She’d found herself growing increasingly attracted to her brother because of the countless orgasms he’d given her, on camera and off. He’d become a master of her orgasm, and her body had responded.

Ashley’s eyes widened. That was it. That was the key. Her attraction had started because her brother had started giving her regular orgasms, as well as the attention she so desperately craved.

If she started returning the favor, even if he wasn’t into her at first…

He might be, once he got used to the situation.

The young woman’s entire body shook with a powerful orgasm as the idea really sank in.

If she got her brother off regularly, if she made Jacob cum even one-tenth as often as he made her cum…

Maybe he’d be attracted to her. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to help it.

Ashley’s brother would be as attracted to her as she was to him.

There was a huge smile on Ashley’s face as she rolled to her side, deeply satisfied. Less than a minute passed before she’d drifted into a long, dreamless sleep.

* * *

The completed version of Hierarchy of Needs is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 19

“Hey Ash,” I said the next morning. Well, I say morning; it was mid-afternoon. Streaming runs late, and my self-pleasure afterwards can take me well into the early hours of the morning. Fortunately I didn’t have anything to get up for. Our parents had long since stopped hounding us to get work (thanks, cabinets) and with my share of the income from Ashley’s videos, I didn’ t need to.

I guess technically I _was_ working, but it certainly didn’t feel like that.

My sister is an okay actress. She’s not going to, like, transition from camgirling to Hollywood movies any time soon, but the only reason I can tell when she’s exaggerating her orgasms is because of how many times I’ve seen her cum.

Have I mentioned how much I love my life?

Similarly, I’m not about to star in Mission Impossible 11 (’Sister Breach’—and yes, I’ll do my own sex scenes) but…I mean, after months of getting my sister off and jerking off in front of her, I’m pretty sure she _still_ has no idea I’m into her. So, yeah. I’ll take my Oscar now please.

But that morning was like, the ultimate test of my acting skills. We were both fully clothed: me in jeans and a t-shirt, Ashley in a white crop top and gym shorts. I was casually eating cereal at the breakfast table when with absolutely no preamble, Ashley asked me.

“Hey Jacob,” she replied. “I was thinking we should do a blowjob video next.”

My eyes didn’t bug out of my head, the cereal-milk in my mouth didn’t splutter all over the table. Maybe my eyebrows raised slightly, but I figured that’s a reasonable response to your sister asking if she can give you head.

“Oh yeah?” I said, after slowly swallowing. Something I hoped my sister would be doing oh-so-soon.

“Yeah,” she replied, slightly too quickly. “I mean, you know, if you think…I just thought…”

The slightly crueler side of me was tempted to let her spin out, but I outstretched one arm and she obediently stepped into my embrace. Ashley and I had continued to be cuddly; if anything, our physical closeness had grown in the past few weeks.

You get someone off ten times in a day with your hands, I guess you just get pretty comfortable touching them.

With the feeling of my sister’s body pressed against mine, I smiled up at her.

“Are you sure you’d be okay with that? I mean…”

I trailed off, reasonably sure that Ashley would be quick to reassure me.

Sure enough, she nodded immediately. “Yeah,” she said, her voice light and sweet. “I think it makes sense, y’know. For the channel.”

I nodded back at Ashley, doing everything I could to act as if I was considering a new idea, something that had simply never occurred to me. “I’m sure it’d sell,” I acknowledged. “There are probably a hundred thousand guys who’d love to watch you give head.”

Ashley let out a small, almost imperceptible moan at my words. I’d learned a while back that I could tease these small reactions out of her. My sister found the idea of being watched such a turn-on, it was like her entire body pulsed whenever I brought it up.

“Uh huh,” she said, trying to sound casual. Anyone less well-versed in her arousal probably wouldn’t have noticed, but I picked up on the undercurrent of excitement in Ashley’s response.

After a few more moments of pretending to think about it, I sighed. “Fuck,” I said. “You know what, I think you’re right.”

“Yeah?” my sister responded shyly.

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Blowjob videos are the next step.”

Ashley was practically glowing at my words.

“…but are you sure you want it to be me?” I continued. “I mean, I’m sure you could find any number of other guys.”

I honestly don’t know what I would have done if she’d agreed to my suggestion. The idea of Ashley blowing _anyone_ on camera was pretty damn sexy, and Exclusivity With Sexual Partners was a low enough priority that I had no interest in standing in the way.

It just wasn’t as hot as the idea of her blowing me. Giving me head for an audience of thousands, recording an incestuous act and selling it to the entire internet. My sister’s face, coated with my cum, smiling into the camera and begging for tokens…

I could feel my hard-on pressing against my pants, and I hoped that my sister couldn’t recognize my arousal as easily as I could hers.

“No,” she replied without even a hint of hesitation. “If you really don’t want to do it, I guess I can find someone else, but…I mean, we have a good rhythm, y’know? Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone but you behind the camera.”

I gave a half-laugh. “Yeah—no offense, but I don’t really want to film you blowing some random guy.”

My sister laughed as well, and I could feel the tension easing slightly.

“As long as it won’t make things weird,” I followed up, my tone suddenly solemn once more. “Like, between us.”

“Of course not,” my sister said, once more trying way too hard to sound casual. “I mean, it’s not that different to what we’ve done so far. Besides…it’s just sex.”

As the last word left her lips, I saw a tinge of pink appear in her cheeks. Part of me wished I could read her mind for real, instead of needing to sneak into the secret room late at night.

Was she jumping—as I was—to the logical next step? Surely she must know that once we crossed this line, it wouldn’t be too much of a leap to go all the way.

It’s just sex. Once we agreed to that, it would be hard to argue against letting me fuck her on camera. After all, what is sex if not ‘just sex’?

Ashley was avoiding my eyes, and a flash of inspiration hit me.

“I don’t know…” I said reluctantly, and that got her attention. She looked back at me, her brow furrowed. “This relationship is really important to me.”

I gave my sister’s waist a comforting squeeze. I could feel how tense she was.

“Me too,” she said in a low voice, doing nothing to mask her worry and fear.

“I’d just hate if things got awkward, y’know?”

“Of course,” she agreed. I don’t think she even noticed that she’d started fidgeting, her hands wringing in distress at my response.

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, a note of finality in my voice. “Let’s try it off-camera, and if either of us are uncomfortable, we won’t go any further.”

I swear, if you x-rayed my sister in that moment you would have been able to see her heart leap. Her eyes lit up, and a broad smile spread across her face.

“It won’t,” she said confidently. “I swear.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” she grinned, holding out her finger.

I wrapped my pinky around hers and we shook. A gleam of mischief appeared in her eyes. It should have been a warning, but her next words still surprised me.

“What about right now?”

This time I completely failed to hide my reaction to her suggestion. We had the house to ourselves, but I still hadn’t been expecting…that.

Not that I was complaining.

“Okay,” I gulped, and a half-smile appeared on my sister’s face at my reaction. I tried to save it with a shrug. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Let’s do it,” my sister answered coolly, sinking to her knees.

Despite everything we’d done, despite all the times I’d jerked off in front of her, the countless orgasms I’d given her, the fact that I was probably more familiar with her naked body than anything in the world, that I could recognize every sign of her arousal from fifty feet away, this was the first time Ashley had ever actually touched my dick.

I’d never forget it.

I doubt she realized, but my sister was biting her lip as she unzipped my shorts and fished my dick out. I was fully erect, and had been since she had walked into the kitchen and asked if she could blow me. Even though she’d seen my cock—seen me cum, even—dozens of times, Ashley’s eyes still widened at the sight of my hardness.

Part of me expected her to…I dunno, stare it in awe for a few minutes, but she didn’t hesitate. After that brief reaction, my sister leaned forward, and took my cock into her mouth.

I realized that my own jaws were gaping when she looked up at me, her big blue eyes clouded with lust as she slowly took my cock into her mouth, her warm tongue swirling around my head.

I’d seen Ashley suck on dildos of all sizes, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I wasn’t even close to the largest of her toys. So I knew that my sister would have no trouble taking me down her throat.

Exactly as I’d imagined so many, many times.

So I couldn’t help but smile at the choking sounds that she made as her head began bobbing up and down on my erection. I knew they were entirely for show, just for me…and yet like a good pair of implants, knowing they were fake didn’t make them any less hot.

I let out a soft moan. One of Ashley’s hands was wrapped around the base of my cock, while the other was gently playing with my balls. Her lips were halfway down my shaft, and the tip of her soft, pink tongue was rolling around my piss slit, causing a sensation that I’d never felt while masturbating.

This was my first blowjob. This was the first time anyone besides me had ever touched my dick. My first time getting head was from my gorgeous, sexy, blonde bombshell of a sister.

“Oh, god…” I gasped, feeling almost overwhelmed by what I was experiencing. “Fuck. Ashley…”

As I’d expected, my sister briefly tensed at my reaction, my words causing a small ripple of arousal in the kneeling beauty.

While this had long been part of the plan, I hadn’t expected it quite so soon—and certainly not first thing in the morning, as I was eating my breakfast—so I’d jerked off three times the previous night. I knew I’d be able to last as long as I wanted.

I could keep this magical moment going as long as possible.

She was still looking up at me, struggling to keep her eyes in focus as she began moving her lips and down my cock more rapidly. I wondered if she was wet. I knew she’d been thinking about this for a while, but although the filing cabinets gave me indicators of where her mind was at, it wasn’t encyclopaedic. I didn’t know if she was doing this purely because it was the next step for her webcam career, or if it had become a fantasy.

Was she enjoying this as much as I was?

It seemed impossible that anyone could enjoy this as much as I was, but maybe not. Maybe my sister was lusting after me just as much as I’d lusted after her. The reaction to my pleasure, the wanton look in her eyes, how quickly she’d agreed to blow me in the kitchen…they were all pretty strong indicators, at the very least.

There was so much I wanted to do. I wanted to reach down and grab her hair, forcefuck her face. I wanted to order her to take her top off; she probably would, it wasn’t like she was shy around me. I wanted to bend her over the kitchen table and fuck her, find out for myself exactly how wet she was.

But instead, I just looked down at her and savored the moment. My first blowjob. My first time getting head from my sister.

And I knew it would be far from the last.

* * *

Ashley couldn’t believe it was happening.

Her mouth was wrapped around Jacob’s cock. She was doing it. She was sucking off her brother.

She was finally bringing him some of the pleasure that he’d given her over the last few weeks.

He was going to cum in her mouth. She was going to get him off, using nothing but her mouth and her hands.

It was even hotter than she’d thought it would be.

Part of it, she knew, was that she’d been going through a weird sort of drought lately. Ever since she’d been fired from the strip club, she hadn’t had sexual contact with anyone except her fans, through the camera…and her brother’s hand.

She’d sucked off many a toy, but running your tongue up and down a hard, warm cock was something completely different. The cock reacted to her efforts; twitching when she licked the underside of its head, throbbing when she gently squeezed its base.

And soon, she knew, it would be erupting, filling her mouth with its seed.

God she wanted to make it erupt. She wanted to suck her brother’s cock so bad.

The only thing that would make it better would be if she was being recorded.

Ashley’s eyes fluttered at the idea, imagining the red light of a camera pointing at her, capturing the moment. Broadcasting her mouth, sucking her brother’s cock, preserving it for thousands—perhaps millions!—to see.

Strangers around the world, stroking themselves as they watched her suck her brother’s cock, for decades to come.

So many hard-ons, all thanks to her. All desiring her, wishing that it was their cock she was sucking. Looking at her body as they got off…

Blinking twice, Ashley forced herself to focus. She couldn’t reveal her arousal, not yet. If her brother knew how much she was enjoying this, there was no chance he’d let her do it again. And she wanted to do it again and again and again and again, until Jacob got so used to having his sister’s lips wrapped around his cock that he started associating her with sex.

Until he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She redoubled her efforts, doing all she could to give him the best blowjob she could. Over the past few days, Ashley had started watching videos of other camgirls giving head. She’d studied what their hands did, their expressions; the videos didn’t show exactly what they were doing with their tongues, of course, but she’d also sifted through dozens of Reddit threads for tips.

None of her boyfriends had ever complained about her cocksucking skills…but who would? When a hot blonde kneels between your legs, ‘complaining’ probably isn’t going to be your first instinct.

But Ashley knew she only had one chance to make a good first impression with her brother’s dick, and she didn’t want to screw it up.

So she choked on his cock, slobbering on it and letting drool drip out the sides of her mouth. If she could have without raising suspicion, she would have stripped off her top and moved her brother’s hands to her tits, letting him grope her as she gave him the best head she possibly could.

_One step at a time,_ she reminded herself. If she did this right, she’d be able to blow him on camera, and once they were being recorded, her suggestions wouldn’t raise even an iota of suspicion. After all, it was for the video.

God she wanted to make a good blowjob video.

She loved the feeling of her brother’s eyes on her as she sucked his cock. She’d spent far too long that morning deciding what to wear, before settling on something sexy but not sexual; a top that showed off her tits without looking like she wanted to show off her tits.

Part of her had wanted to put on her sexiest lingerie. After all, it wasn’t anything Jacob hadn’t seen before…but she knew she couldn’t do anything that might scare him off or make him suspicious.

Her brother had to think this was totally normal. Just an ordinary blowjob from his sister, nothing to see here.

Ashley pulled the cock out of her mouth, and slowly licked it from shaft to head, before spitting on it and taking it back into her mouth.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed giving head. There was something relaxing about it, the feeling of the cock smoothly sliding in and out of her mouth. The feeling of absolute power over another person’s orgasm. She mixed up her technique occasionally, but her experience (and reading) had taught her that most men came from a repetitive motion that stimulated them _just right_.

If her brother was the exception, she was determined to find out. She wanted to please him. She wanted to become the world expert in getting Jacob off. Ashley wanted to find out what her brother liked and deliver it to him again and again and again.

Even after they started filming, she knew that they’d have to do a bunch of rehearsals.

For the next few minutes, Ashley lost herself in the blowjob, putting everything she had into bringing her brother pleasure, staring at him while imagining she was being watched by millions of horny men around the world.

The blonde was so lost in the fantasy of what she was doing, she was taken by surprise when her brother gasped “I’m cumming!” and—not two seconds later—his cock started throbbing, shooting its load into her mouth.

Ashley gulped it down noisily, swallowing Jacob’s seed as quickly as he could deposit it into her mouth. Her pussy was practically screaming for attention; just the act of giving head was normally enough to turn her on, but it was all amplified by the fact that it was her brother—star of her recent illicit fantasies—and the knowledge that for the rest of the day, she’d be walking around with his seed in her belly.

She wouldn’t have been surprised if her juices had leaked through her shorts, she was so wet.

After licking her brother’s cock clean, she reluctantly pulled back, letting it fall from her mouth. It was already starting to soften, and she desperately wanted to wrap her lips around it again, feel it thicken in her mouth, get her brother hard with her mouth, with her body. Get him off again, over and over…

“Uh, thanks,” Jacob said, and Ashley’s heart skipped a beat. Oh, crap. She had to make sure things weren’t awkward. If it was weird or uncomfortable, her brother wouldn’t let her do that again.

And she needed to do it again. Sucking her brother’s cock had awoken a hunger in her.

She wanted more.

“No problem,” she said airily. “I’m so glad it wasn’t weird.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” she said brightly, nodding as she stood up. “That was fun. It’s no different to when you use your hands with me.”

To her great relief, her brother seemed to relax.

“I guess,” he said.

“But we can do it again some time, just to make sure things don’t get weird.”

“Are you sure?” he said, throwing her an inscrutible look.

“Of course,” she said, casually stretching. “Just come find me when you’re hard. I’ll do that any time; it was fun.”

Her brother smiled at her words, and Ashley began to relax.

“Besides,” she added. “I owe you for all the times you’ve…y’know. For the show.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Jacob replied, and Ashley threw him a final grin, before returning to her room.

As soon as the door was closed behind her, the young woman threw herself down on the bed, tearing off her shorts and plunging two fingers into her steaming pussy.

She could still taste her brother’s cock on her tongue, his cum on her lips. Even if she never got to do that again, for the rest of their lives, they’d both know that it had happened. For as long as they both lived, they’d remember that day in the kitchen when she’d wrapped her lips around her brother’s cock and sucked him until he came down his sister’s throat.

Ashley had wanted to make sure that things were normal with her brother, but now she had a new desire. What they’d just done, the incestuous act they’d just partaken in…

She wanted _that_ to be the new normal.

As the walls of her cunt pulsed around her fingers, Ashley’s thumb pushed firmly on her clit, and she came, imagining the eyes of the internet upon her as she got off to fantasies of what else she could do with her brother’s cock…

* * *

The completed version of Hierarchy of Needs is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 20

Humans have pretty bad imaginations.

I guess that’s not entirely fair. We probably have the best imaginations on the planet. I know that dolphins are pretty smart, but I’ve never heard of one writing a novel, or coming up with…I dunno, dragons, or fairies, or unicorns.

Well, they have narwhals, so I guess they don’t need to invent unicorns.

But considering that the human imagination _should_ be limitless, we’re pretty crappy at it. We can’t really picture anything too far away from our own experiences.

A year ago, my wildest fantasy probably would’ve been something like getting to see my sister naked. Maybe jerking off onto her tits, or both of us getting super drunk and fucking one time. A one-off that we’d regret for the rest of our life.

Before I found the cabinets, before I found a literal door to my sister’s mind, I never ever ever would’ve imagined what my life would become. I never would have imagined my sister offering—no, _begging_ —for me to come and find her any time I got hard.

And there’s no way I could have dreamed up a situation where Ashley would not only get on her knees in front of me any time I asked, but where she’d then thank me for it.

Over six days, I’d gotten fourteen blowjobs. And honestly, it could have been more…but at the beginning, I didn’t want to push things. Sure, my sister had said that I could come find her whenever, but I wanted to play it safe. Slow and steady fucks the sister, as the saying goes.

I’d tried not to let it interfere with her camming. I always got hard when my sister had a show, obviously—that’s kind of what she’s going for—but I’d always managed to avoid her figuring that out. And so I hadn’t felt comfortable asking for head after her show each night

At first, anyway.

After that morning in the kitchen, I’d visited her room about half an hour before she went live. Our parents were home, but thanks to my efforts with their cabinets, they never visited us any time after dinner. Ashley and I basically had half the house to ourselves.

We could’ve invited a biker gang over and neither Mom nor Dad would’ve batted an eye.

I checked our parents’ files regularly to make sure they weren’t suspicious of what we were doing. And, to be safe, the more suspicious stuff we got up to, the more regularly I checked. So far, there hadn’t been any issues. Mom and Dad’s curiosity had been nerfed so hard, they wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow between them if we’d both dyed our hair bright pink.

Ashley had been getting ready for her show (doing her makeup, one of the few things I left firmly in her hands) but at my stammering request (which I’d rehearsed extensively in my room beforehand) she’d put down her mascara pen and immediately dropped to her knees.

Eight minutes later, she was sitting back at her desk, carefully applying her makeup while my hot cum slid down her throat.

The next day, I’d only asked once. Again, my request had been met with no hesitation, not even a hint of awkwardness.

Like I said, the human imagination is so limited. I would never have even dreamt up the casual way my sister had just completely, one hundred percent adapted to taking my cock in her mouth any and every time I asked.

I’d scoured her cabinet that night, making sure that nothing new had appeared. I don’t know exactly what I would’ve done if “stop Jacob asking me to suck his cock” had appeared somewhere in her drawer—I guess moved it to the back—but I liked having a warning system of sorts.

Just the presence of a change like that would’ve told me that I’d done something wrong, y’know? That I’d made a misstep somewhere along the line.

But that’s not what I found. In fact, I’d found almost the exact opposite.

Yeah—in the two days she’d been blowing me, “Give Jacob more head” had appeared as one of Ashley’s newest (and highest) priorities. When I’d seen it, hearts had all but appeared in my eyes.

And after that, I was unstoppable.

The next morning, I was in Ashley’s bedroom almost as soon as I woke up. She was still mostly asleep when I’d entered, and—emboldened by the new desire I’d found in her files—told her I was hard.

There’s something weirdly sexy about getting a blowjob from your half-asleep sister. I mean, even beyond just the fact that I was…y’know, getting a blowjob from my sister. She just accepted my cock in her mouth so unquestioningly. Her blowjobs are truly masterful when she’s awake, but there was something so hot about the unfocused way she blew me, something so sexy when I came down her throat as her bleary eyes stared up at me.

As I left, she sleepily thanked me as I left for waking her up so deliciously.

We were watching a movie later that day—the actress on the screen wasn’t even that hot, but I pulled my dick out (as I typically did whenever something on the screen was even a little sexy). Ashley glanced at it but didn’t say anything…

As soon as the request left my lips, however, my sister’s warm mouth was wrapped around my cock. We didn’t even pause the film; I just kept watching as Ashley slowly, luxuriously blew me.

I couldn’t help but grin.

I’d never again have to watch a film without being inside my sister.

But that night was the next big step. Her show went well, as it always did. She’d really become a pro at teasing the hungry fans, milking them for every token she could.

We always ended each show with a brief notes session. Just a sort of rundown of the show; what had worked, and what hadn’t, stuff to consider trying the next night. There wasn’t really much that needed to change, but we didn’t want to get sloppy.

Well, not _that_ kind of sloppy.

That night, she’d tried something we’d seen a lot of Asian girls doing; a sort of “girlfriend roleplay”. If you tipped a certain number of tokens, Ashley would use your name and ask how you were going, how your day had been, that kind of thing.

As she got more naked, the number went up. Turns out guys were much more interested in hearing my sister inquire about their lives if she was groaning with lust as she did, her perfect nipples on display for the world to see.

So we discussed that a little, concluded it was worth trying higher prices, but most of the meeting had basically just been me complimenting my sister for how well she’d done that night.

“And the way you timed your twitches to the sound of tokens coming in, that was really hot. Great work.”

Ashley smiled at the compliment, her perfect white teeth flashing in my direction. She was still naked from the show. Nudity was barely something either of us even noticed any more.

Her nudity more than mine, I guess. I could probably stroll naked into her room without a problem, but I rarely did. Comfort With Nudity Around Jacob was a high enough priority for Ashley that I’ve no doubt I could get away with it, but I’d rather have focused on pushing certain other boundaries.

“Thanks,” my sister said, her face still flushed from the long, loud orgasm she’d finished the show on.

“Really hot, actually” I repeated, then paused slightly. “How about some head?”

I’d love to say that was the moment of truth, the point at which everything changed forever. It had required a bit of courage for me to bring it up; like I said, I’d been careful to never link my sister’s show and my own arousal before. Even appearing like I was into characters who looked like her had caused a little friction in the past.

But I was moving forward in leaps and bounds, and if ever there was a time to insinuate that I found my sister attractive, surely it was right before a blowjob.

It would probably be more dramatic if I’d claimed that the world stood still as I waited for her reaction, that everything went silent and a look of tension appeared on her face as she fought a silent conflict within herself.

Sorry to disappoint, but none of that happened. I asked my sister for head, and her eyes immediately lit up.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied in a satisfied hum, falling straight to her knees and pulling my throbbing cock from my pants.

Watching my sister’s show always got me so worked up, it was only a few minutes before Ashley was swallowing my seed, her blue eyes looking up at me adoringly as she did.

This was the fourth time she’d given me head, but the first time she’d done so naked. You can use many words to describe my sister, but ‘shy’ isn’t one of them. She didn’t cross her arms across her huge tits, or do anything to hide her body from me.

I’d become an expert in a few things since the start of the year: how the filing cabinets worked, the ins-and-outs of camgirling…and, perhaps most delightfully at all, the way my sister’s body reacts to sexual stimulus.

So maybe I got off so quickly because her entire body was on display for me as she blew me, or because I’d just watched her cum on camera for thousands of fans, something she would never, ever have done without my influence…or maybe I reached orgasm so fast because for the first time, I knew for sure that getting me off was turning Ashley on.

Whatever it was, I knew that it was going to happen again, and again, and again, and again…

* * *

“Cut,” I said, making sure to sound exasperated.

It had been five more days, and countless blowjobs. I mean, I probably could have counted them, but there was really no need. If my sister’s reaction hadn’t been enough, her filing cabinet confirmed it.

Ashley really, really, really liked giving me head.

Anytime, anywhere. I could probably have taken her to the mall and gotten her to blow me in a changing room. Hell, my sister was so exhibitionistic, she probably would’ve gotten off from it.

But as confident as I was in my sister’s reaction, I still didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks. I mean, we were going to release a video of my sister sucking me off, to be viewed by potentially millions. I figured we were playing with enough fire; there was no need to go out and invite even more potential trouble.

So rather than push boundaries unnecessarily, I ‘settled’ for getting head from my sister in basically every room of the house. We watched another few movies together, too. I’d always get her to start going down on me in the first half-hour, and nut right as the end credits started to roll (like I said; I was cumming often enough that I was pretty easily able to control how long it took me to cum). Whenever my sister walked into my room naked, I’d immediately ask for head.

And Ashley, of course, would immediately oblige.

On top of that, my sweat-covered sister would swallow down my cum after each and every one of her shows, her eyes fluttering with pleasure as she did. I don’t know how she felt about the fact that I was turned on by her camshows, but if it bothered her, she hid it pretty well.

I guess ‘Maintaining Normalcy’ was enough of a priority that she didn’t want to do anything that might make me feel weird.

Almost two weeks after the first time my sister blew me—the first time _anyone_ had blown me—I raised the topic of the video again. I honestly don’t know if it had been on Ashley’s mind or not; she seemed to be pretty happy with how things were, spending her days as a blowjob dispenser for her brother.

And don’t get me wrong—I was pretty into the situation myself.

But I had a goal, and I wasn’t going to stop working towards it. No matter how many times I came down my sister’s throat, I knew there was more to strive for.

“I feel like we’ve gotten pretty comfortable with things,” I said, and Ashley nodded. She was naked; I think she’d realized that whenever she came into my room naked, I’d ask for a blowjob. Though even if she hadn’t consciously worked it out, it was probably a Pavlovian thing.

Y’know: Bell—food; nudity—head.

“We can try the video before your stream tonight, if you like.”

I could tell my sister was excited, I guess because her plan had worked. Her plan really being my plan, of course. Plans within plans...maybe Christopher Nolan would be interested in the film rights of our story.

“Yes please,” she said, but when we went to film the video, it wasn’t quite right.

Well, no…if I’m being honest, it really was. I’ve said many times, my sister is an amazing performer. I’ve done enough research into camming to know you can’t just have an amazing body and an exhibitionist streak, you need charisma. Timing. Star power. The X-factor.

And believe me, my sister has it all.

But if I’d told Ashley that our first attempt at making a blowjob video was perfect…well, she might not have wanted to practice any more.

_Rehearsal_. What a wonderful word.

“What’s wrong?” she said, in response to me turning the camera off. I was tempted to keep it rolling, to record the entire conversation.

I’d never recorded notes before…but my sister’s face had never been coated in my cum while I gave them. It felt like a special occasion, of sorts.

“It’s hard to say,” I replied thoughtfully. I was tempted to just leave it vague, tell her we just needed more practice…from her reaction over the past few days, I doubted she’d have any objections.

But I wanted to keep moving forward. I was all-but-there, and paradise—the final destination—was surely just a few steps away.

“I think the problem is that I’ve seen you get off hundreds of times,” I said slowly. “Like, I know exactly what turns you on.”

“Okay…” she responded, confused. I scanned her face for any red flags, but she didn’t seem suspicious. Just…worried. Listening intently.

Ready to please.

“I think we need to get you more accustomed with my orgasm. I know you’ve seen me get off before, but it’s not quite the same. We need to approach it more…professionally, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” my sister nodded. “So what does that look like?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised, I guess—the last few months had told me that Ashley was open to pretty much all feedback. But I still took a moment to appreciate what was happening—my sister was sitting naked in front of me, my seed all over her, unflinchingly agreeing to my suggestion that she get even more familiar with my orgasm.

“I guess I could give you notes when you blow me,” I said. “Tell you what I like, what I don’t.”

My sister’s perfect smile spread over her cum-coated face. “Jacob, you goose,” she said with a laugh. “You should have been doing that already.”

“I guess,” I grinned in response. “I just didn’t want it to be…I dunno, weird.”

The smile disappeared from her eyes, and was replaced by an earnest gaze.

“It won’t be,” she said softly. “I promise. Nothing you can say would be weird.”

“Good to know,” I replied. “I’d suggest we start now, but…well, y’know. Your show starts soon”

I gestured to my flaccid cock, and a flirty look appeared in my sister’s eye.

“Well,” she said hesitantly. “You said I need to learn what kind of stuff you’re into. Maybe…maybe we could start on that now.”

I gave her a confused look, playing dumb.

“Tell me what you like,” she said, so softly I could barely hear her. “Tell me what turns you on, and I’ll do it. Whatever it is. If we work together, I can get you hard and get you off again before my show.”

I raised my eyebrows, hoping I looked shocked.

“Well,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck. “I mean, if you insist…”

* * *

The completed version of Hierarchy of Needs is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 21

As I’d gotten closer to achieving my goal, I’d found myself using the cabinet less and less.

Think of it like the Moon Landing. At the start of the trip, they needed tons (literally) of fuel just to get off the planet. As they began zipping towards the Moon, they needed big hits of fuel to course-correct…but when they got really close, they only needed to make these tiny little adjustments.

Well, that’s sort of what this was like. At the very start of my journey, the changes I’d made had been huge. Clumsy, almost. I’d given my sister an exhibitionist fantasy, made her obsessed with making money…I’d really had to go in there and mess things around, just to get started.

Once she was camming, the only changes I’d had to make were little things. Tweaking her attraction to me.

I was the Moon, and my sister was the shuttle. Once she was firmly heading in the right direction, I could keep her getting close with a very light hand.

But here’s the thing—to actually get the shuttle down _onto_ the moon? That had taken another big burst of fuel. You can’t land on a planet (or moon) without fuel to slow your approach, or you’ll just go hurtling into it and crash.

I was so close. So, so close. My sister was blowing me every day. Several times a day. And she wasn’t even questioning it; Ashley truly loved giving me head.

I was most of the way there. But to land the shuttle, I’d need to go return to the cabinet and apply the final bursts of fuel.

Takeoff and landing are the most dangerous part of any flight. Jets, rockets…probably birds, as well. Once you’re in the air, you don’t really have to worry until it’s time to land again.

Well, it was time to land.

Time to land, and time to worry.

* * *

Ashley’s eyes opened wide. A dangerous endeavor, considering her face was completely coated in her brother’s cum.

“Really?” she said, her voice a soft gasp.

Over the past month, Jacob had been carefully teaching her exactly what he found hot.

Submissiveness.

Obedience.

A demure attitude. A soft voice.

The look of lust in a woman’s eyes.

She could barely believe it. Until just a few months ago, her little brother had always just been…well, her little brother.

Then he’d started helping her with her cam show, and something had changed.

No. Everything.

Everything had changed.

It had started when she’d started camming. When her brother had offered to help her make more money, he’d more than delivered. The more she’d listened to his advice, the more zeroes had been added to the end of her bank account balance. With his help, she’d made enough money that she’d never have to work again.

But she’d wanted more. Always more. Her ambition was unquenchable, and so she’d asked him—begged him—to come up with ways that she could increase her earnings even more.

Around the same time, they’d become so comfortable around each other. He’d had to watch her shows, to help her reach her full potential, and it wasn’t long before she didn’t even notice when she was naked and when she was clothed.

She had just felt so lucky, having a sibling she could be vulnerable with. Someone she could trust.

Someone she felt safe around.

It had been a bit of a shock when he’d randomly started masturbating in front of her, but…well, she’d quickly realized that was just where they were at. Jacob watched her get off in front of a crowd pretty much every night; what did it matter if he got off in front of her?

Soon enough, that had just been part of their comfort around each other. He’d jack off, she’d jill off, sometimes they’d even do it together.

And then the internet had dropped out.

Ashley would never forget the day on the bus that she’d had her awakening. It must have been a desire she had buried deep in her subconscious, but she’d been on the bus when it had hit her with the force of a thousand eyes.

She liked to be watched.

She really, really liked to be watch.

Of course she’d always known she was attractive. She’d had creeps hitting on her since puberty had landed (and for Ashley, it had landed _hard_ ). But until that day on the bus, she hadn’t realized just how much pleasure she could get from all those eyes on her, how hot it could be to show off one’s skin, to expose your body to the lustful gazes of a crowded room (or bus) full of people…

Stripping had been one way to get her desires out (and make money in the process) but camming had been a thousand times more convenient, safer, and, well, profitable.

And so when the internet had stopped working, she’d felt like a lion in a cage. Ashley had felt so much pent-up need, so much raw sexual power…and no outlet for it.

She needed a release.

Perhaps that was when it had really started. That was the first time that Ashley had started seeing her brother in a sexual light.

Not intentionally. She’d just…god, she’d just needed someone to watch her. She needed it almost as much as she needed to breathe, to eat. And she felt so _comfortable_ with Jacob; she’d tried returning to the stage, she’d considered contacting some ex-boyfriends, but something about it just made her so anxious.

Unlike her brother.

Ashley felt so incredibly comfortable around her brother. She’d never expected that to be the start of…well, attraction.

She’d denied it at the time, but now she saw the truth. That was when she’d started to think of him in a distinctly non-familial way.

At the time, she’d only wanted his eyes, but that had been the first step down the path she was now happily sprinting along.

Ashley had masturbated beside him, as she had a dozen times. But when he’d glanced over, when he’d made eye-contact with her…that was when she’d cum.

That was when she’d cum, writhing in orgasm as her brother watched.

It hadn’t been long before she’d danced for him. Ashley had told her brother—and herself—that she was rehearsing, keeping herself fresh, making sure that she didn’t forget anything.

But on some level, she’d known that she just wanted to dance for him.

She wanted to show herself off for her brother. For Jacob.

And when he’d groaned, when he’d given that first indication that he was attracted to her…she’d cum.

She’d spontaneously orgasmed, just at the sound of his arousal. Ashley had been so starved for attention, so pent-up, she’d cum from nothing more than the sound of her brother’s lust.

If the internet hadn’t returned the next day, she didn’t know what she would have done next.

Because it had always been her. Jacob had just been trying to help out. Ashley had told him how important this was to her, and he’d done everything he could to help her make money.

She was the one who’d turned it weird.

It hadn’t been easy, to convince him to start making videos with her. And it had been even harder to convince him to star in them…but it had been worth it.

Not just because of the sales. That had been less of a priority, over time. As her savings had built…and as other things in her life had started to take focus.

No, it had beenn worth it because of how good it had felt, finally getting to give her brother the same pleasure he gave her.

Because of how _right_ it felt, to take Jacob’s cock in her hand, in her mouth. To get him off.

To get him off, again and again and again.

Ashley got wet every time she thought about it.

To her dismay, even as she jerked him off, even as she sucked his cock every day, several times a day…Jacob maitained a completely professional attitude.

He hadn’t let things get weird between them, which she appreciated…but he’d also done nothing to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings.

If it wasn’t for the one moan he’d let out when she danced for him, and the look in his eyes when she sucked the cum out of him, Ashley would’ve bet her entire savings account that Jacob didn’t see her as anything but a sister.

He let her get him off because it was good for the show. He accepted her offer to blow him any time because it was good practice. But while he had become the central player in her every sexual fantasy, to him…she was just Ashley. Just his sister.

It was healthy. Far healthier than her own sick, incestuous desires. He wanted nothing more than a familial relationship with his older sister, even as he filmed her masturbating, got her off with his hand, and let her suck his cock several times a day.

Even after all that, he wanted to keep things normal. He wasn’t attracted to her.

Well, she had a plan to fix that.

To her delight, Jacob had given her a roadmap to what she wanted, completely by accident! Ever the perfectionist, he hadn’t been happy with the series of blowjob videos they were making together. He’d suggested that she learn his turn-ons.

It had been all Ashley could do not to jump for joy at the suggestion. He’d had no idea what he was doing.

She was going to learn what her brother liked. What he lusted after. Ashley was going to study his every desire, become the walking embodiment of all her brother’s fantasies.

Even if it took her a year, she was going to become everything her brother wanted, and more. She would become his perfect slut.

His perfect sister slut.

And so with each tip Jacob offered, his sister moved closer to becoming his perfect woman. He got turned on by submission? She would become the epitome of a submissive woman. He found a demure attitude sexy? She was going to walk around looking shy twenty-four hours a day. Her brother enjoyed the sound of a soft voice? She would’ve had vocal cord surgery, if that would get her even half an inch closer to what he desired.

He wanted to see the look of lust in her eyes? That was the easiest of all. Ashley had been holding back, trying to mask how attracted she was to Jacob.

Now, every time he glanced at her, she practically fucked him with her eyes. She’d glance across the room, and her eyes would all but push him down onto the kitchen table, take his dick out, and get him off.

God she wanted him. She wanted her brother more than she’d ever wanted anyone. More than she’d known you _could_ want someone.

She knew that some people would consider it ‘wrong’, feeling this way about one’s brother, but Ashley didn’t care.

All she cared about was pleasing Jacob.

It was one of her highest priorities.

Two things had surprised her, as she’d learned what turned her brother on. Firstly, her brother’s kinks. He’d always been such a quiet kid, so well-mannered.

She’d never expected that underneath, he was so…dominant.

The surprise somehow managed to turn her on even more.

But the bigger shock had been how much she found herself enjoying what Jacob liked. Even if he’d suggested something she hated, Ashley would’ve obliged. Pleasing her brother was so incredibly important to her; she would’ve walked over hot coals if it would get him hard. She would’ve done anything, no matter how wrong it felt.

But it had been the exact opposite. Every time Jacob had told her what he liked, it had felt so, so right.

One of Ashley’s ex-boyfriends had suggested a dom/sub dynamic, but she’d refused. She was a feminist, and the idea of submitting to a man (even in a bedroom context) just didn’t hold any appeal.

But the morning after Jacob had told her that he was turned on by submission, Ashley had realized something: it wasn’t just sexy to her, it felt…right. She was more than comfortable with it; she wanted it.

She needed it.

Just like that day on the bus, it was like she’d suddenly been awakened. Just as she was an exhibitionist, she was a submissive.

She wanted to submit to her brother.

She _needed_ to submit to her brother.

Ashley spent that entire afternoon researching the lifestyle. _Her_ new lifestyle. Even if she stopped camming, even if—God forbid—she stopped needing Jacob’s help, Ashley knew that she’d always be a submissive.

It was who she was now.

Perhaps it was who she’d always been, and her ex-boyfriend just hadn’t been dominant enough to make her see it.

Not that Jacob had forced it upon her; quite the contrary. He’d hemmed and hawed for almost half an hour before finally confessing his secret desire to Ashley. (And her initial reaction had been one of acceptance, not excitement. It hadn’t been until the next morning before she’d realized how much she, too, wanted it. It must have just taken time to sink in.)

When Jacob had come into her bedroom, she’d abandoned her research and dropped to her knees, eyes to the floor. It felt so right. So natural.

This was how she wanted to spend the rest of her life. On her knees, in front of her brother.

In front of her brother.

He’d commanded her to look at him, displaying a level of dominance that she’d never seen from him before (and which had lit up her pussy like a Roman candle). She’d looked up at him, pushing her chest out, trying to show with every inch of her that she was his good girl.

“What do you want?” he asked, and she’d answered without hesitation.

“I want you to collar me, sir.”

His eyes had widened at how quickly she’d answered, and Ashley wished she could suck the words back into her mouth. He’d probably expected her to ask if she could suck his cock or something.

She hoped she hadn’t scared him off.

But a smile had appeared on his face, and he’d nodded.

The next day, she’d asked him—begged him—to tell her what else he found sexy. “Obedience,” he’d eventually confessed, and again—her intial reaction after hearing it had been indifference. She’d been excited to hear his fetish, to better know how she could serve him, but outside of its relationship with submissiveness, ‘Obedience’ itself held no particular erotic thrills for the young woman.

And again, Ashley had woken up the next day with complete knowledge that she too wanted it. No: _needed_ it.

Being obedient was more than just something she’d do to please her brother. It was something she’d do for herself.

Each of his subsequent desires followed the same pattern. She didn’t even know that one could _need_ a soft voice, but she did. The need to show her lust in her eyes…Ashley couldn’t even imagine what would happen if, for some reason, she wasn’t able to.

And once she completely took on a demure attitude, Ashley knew she could no longer beg her brother to share his other secret wants. If he happened to tell her, she’d do everything she could to obey, of course, but it would be up to him.

But she didn’t mind. Her need to be demure, to obey, to be submissive…they were what truly mattered to her.

That was now who she was.

Her brother coughed, and Ashley’s eyes widened.

“Really, _sir_?” she corrected herself. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to show her master the respect he truly deserved; she’d just been so, so excited.

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded. “That take: that was the one. Now I just need to edit it.”

Ashley could feel tears springing to her eyes. They’d worked so hard on this video, and it…it was finally ready.

After almost two weeks of constant rehearsals and reshoots, the first video of her blowing Jacob was ready to go live.

“I can start editing it now,” he said, nodding to his desk. Ashley moved quickly to beat him there, crawling under his desk.

As her brother sat down and began editing the video they’d recorded the previous day, she sighed with happiness as she moved his cum-coated cock into her mouth.

She was exactly where she was meant to be. She was doing exactly what she needed to be doing.

* * *

The completed version of Hierarchy of Needs is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 22

As Ashley licked her brother’s slimy cock clean, she lost track of the time.

She’d spent so many hours like this, her mouth doing everything it could to please her brother…it was so easy to enter a state of flow. She didn’t consciously notice Jacob getting hard again, the way his hips began to writhe as she alternated between taking his cock deep into her throat, and pulling it out so that she could just milk the head with her lips.

Her body responded instinctively; she’d done it so many times, she could have gotten Jacob off in her sleep.

The familiar twitches of her brother’s erection jolted her back to what she was doing. How long had she been blowing him, one hand between her legs, her mind in foggy ecstacy? In the background, she could hear the sounds of her own mouth doing exactly what she was doing now, as Jacob edited the footage of the amazing head she’d just given him.

She was giving him a blowjob while he edited video of her giving him a blowjob. How meta.

Ashley smiled, then focused on the task in front of her. She didn’t care if her mind wandered in the middle of the process, but she wanted her full attention on Jacob’s orgasm.

She brought her mouth down, burying her nose in his pubic hair, and allowed the first wave of her own climax to wash over her as she felt Jacob’s cum beginning to spurt down her throat.

There was nothing she loved more than timing her orgasm to her brother’s.

After a few moments of reprieve, Ashley began once more licking her brother’s softening cock clean. This was a loop she could happily have spent the rest of her life in.

“I’m done,” Jacob grunted, a few minutes later. His sister had lost track of the time once more, but she knew it couldn’t have been too long, because her brother wasn’t hard again. Yet.

And despite his having climaxed twice in the last two hours, Ashley knew it was a _yet_. Her brother was like the Energizer Bunny; he always seemed ready for more.

She liked to think it was because he found her attractive; maybe not at first, but at least since she’d dedicated the last few weeks to becoming his perfect sexual fantasy…but, she acknowledged to herself with a note of sadness, he probably would’ve reacted the same way to any woman who was willing to blow him any time he wanted.

_It’s up to me to change his mind,_ she reminded herself resolutely.

“It’s ready, sir?” Ashley asked, her voice as soft as she could make it while still remaining audible.

“Uh huh,” he nodded. “We’ll put it up tonight, before your show. After dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed, and skip-ran to the kitchen.

With the amount of money Ashley was earning, they could easily have afforded a full-time private chef, but there was something so hot about cooking for Jacob. About serving him—literally, serving him food. Serving him by serving him.

Plus, she just plain ol’ liked cooking.

It wasn’t long before one of Jacob’s favorite meals was ready. She brought his plate to his room, and knelt beside him as he ate, staring at him lovingly as he perused Reddit and enjoyed his meal. The meal she’d made for him. They’d tried having her hand-feed him once, but he’d found it more annoying than anything, so now she just watched him eat, naked and collared beside him, ready in case he needed anything.

Ashley had twice now been caught by her father wearing nothing but her collar, but he hadn’t said anything, and she hadn’t even thought to question why. Perhaps she got her lack of curiosity form her parents.

When Jacob was done eating, Ashley took his plate back to the kitchen, washed it (her mother wandered through, but didn’t say anything about her daughter’s state of undress) and then returned to see if there was anything else her master wanted.

“It’s time,” he said ceremoniously, and Ashley just nodded.

As Jacob went through the upload process (she’d given him full control of her accounts; it just seemed easier that way), he made idle chatter. Ashley hung on his every word, in case there was something she could use to please him more than she already did.

She’d do anything to please him.

Flipping through the photos already on her page, he said something of such importance so casually, she wasn’t even sure if she’d heard him right.

“…of course, my eventual goal would be to have my own sex slave. Someone who only lived to serve me.”

For a brief moment, the world stopped spinning, and Ashley had to remind herself to breathe.

That’s what Jacob wanted? A…a sex slave?

Before she could truly process what that meant, or how she felt about it, she realized he was still talking, and forced herself to file the news away deep in her mind, and focus on his words. The last thing she wanted was to miss another truthbomb like that.

“And…it’s up!”

Ashley forced her concentration to the screen. This was it; this was the moment they’d been working towards for weeks. This upload was why she’d started blowing her brother in the first place. It had been at the top of her mind for days straight.

The sales began pouring in almost immediately. She had been fairly sure this would be her best-selling video of all time, and the early figures confirmed it. When she announced it on her stream tonight, one of the administrators had gotten in contact to congratulate her—there was a chance it would break a site record.

But to her complete bewilderness, Ashley felt…flat.

She should have been on top of the world. This was what she’d been dreaming of for weeks; she should have been excited at the release, the success. She should’ve been ecstatic.

But instead, she felt nothing.

“Pretty good,” Jacob said encouragingly, and Ashley forced a smile to her face and nodded.

“Uh huh,” she replied. “…sir.”

Just like while she was sucking her brother’s cock, Ashley found her body going on autopilot as she cammed. Jacob sat to the side, and she obeyed his non-verbal commands (be more coy, more alluring, show more skin, ask for tips) without question, but her mind was elsewhere.

She’d adjusted her entire life to make that video. Ashley had transformed everything about herself for her brother, to bring him as much pleasure as she possibly could, so that the video could be as great as it could be.

It had seemed so important at the time. Making the perfect video, making as much money as possible—for a time, it had been all-consuming.

But now that it was done, she just felt empty.

Releasing a video, seeing the dollars roll in…it all suddenly seemed so meaningless.

What had gone wrong?

She’d completely upended her life, become completely submissive and subservient, obedient and demure…for something that didn’t even feel like it mattered any more.

Had it all been for nothing?

No. No, even if she didn’t care about the video any more—and as soon as the thought passed through her mind, Ashley immediately knew it was true; she _didn’t_ —she’d learned so much about herself. Her brother had opened her eyes to so many needs she didn’t know he had…and in the process, she’d realized what was truly important to her.

It wasn’t making money, or creating videos.

Discovering her true self. Unlocking her secret desires.

Pleasing her brother.

Maybe that’s what it had been about all along. She’d fooled herself into thinking she was blowing Jacob for her career, taking his direction because it made her more money…but really, she’d always been moving towards becoming her brother’s—

Becoming his…his sex sla—

Ashley put that thought to the side, as she reached for her vibrator. She wasn’t ready to deal with her brother’s revelation. Not yet.

As she started running the vibrator up and down her wet snatch, moaning to the camera, listening to the sound of tips flying in, she resumed her previous train of thought. It couldn’t just be coincidence that every fetish her brother told her was something she wanted as well, could it?

Did she just want it because her brother did?

No. No, as firmly as she knew that making money was no longer a priority, she knew that submission wasn’t something she was taking on just to get her brother off. To her very core, she wanted to be submissive. Obedient. Demure.

It wasn’t something she could fake. She could have fooled her brother, but she couldn’t fool herself.

She needed to be submissive. She _needed_ it.

So if she wasn’t just interested in it because Jacob was, only one explanation remained…

It was genetic.

Ashley moaned at the thought, as she pressed the vibrator against her clit. Her brother was watching, but no matter how badly she wanted to, she knew she couldn’t cum.

She and her brother were completely in sync. Their fetishes lined up exactly _because_ they were related. Because they were of the same blood.

Ashley had been born to please him. Coming together as they had…she’d spent far too much time feeling like she was doing wrong, when in fact the opposite was true.

It was very, very right.

Jacob nodded, and Ashley threw her head back as she came, long and loud. As her entire body tensed with pleasure, she forgot that she was streaming, she forgot about the tens of thousands of people watching her. She tuned out the thousands of dollars her orgasm was earning her, and completely focused on her pleasure.

Her pleasure, and her brother’s eyes.

Watching her.

Watching her cum.

Ashley was uncharacteristically awkward as she stumbled through the end of her show. She thanked her fans, reminded them again to check out her new blowjob video, and as soon as the stream ended, collapsed in exhaustion.

“You okay?” her brother asked, and she nodded.

“Yes, sir. That was a big one,” she smiled in response.

Her brother ruffled her hair, and left her alone with her thoughts. It wasn’t until he left that she realized—that was the first time in weeks she hadn’t blown him straight after a show.

Perhaps he’d noticed that her heart wasn’t in her outro. She’d pushed people to the video of her giving him head, but without the usual exuberance she displayed on every stream. Had he spotted her reluctance, and interpreted it as a lack of interest in blowing him?

Or worse…now that the video was out, had he concluded that there was no reason for them to keep on ‘rehearsing’?

Ashley’s stomach turned at the idea.

No. No, no matter what…she had to keep blowing her brother. From the bottom of her heart, she…she needed it.

She _needed_ it.

More than camming, more than making money, more than making videos. More, even, than her newfound desire for submission, Ashley _needed_ to blow her brother. It was one of her top priorities in life; she needed it more than she’d ever known one could need physical intimacy.

God, if he didn’t let her, she’d…

She didn’t know what she’d do.

Ashley considered going after Jacob, bursting into his room and begging him to let her suck his cock. Why hadn’t she offered, straight after the show? She’d grown so used to him asking—no, demanding. She hadn’t thought that there was any chance that he’d leave before she got the chance.

She would have skipped the show if it meant she got to suck his cock again.

Taking a deep breath, Ashley tried to calm down. She couldn’t intrude on his space. It wouldn’t be demure. But even more importantly, if he knew how much she needed it, if her brother knew that she needed his cock in her mouth almost as much as she needed food…he might freak out.

He might cut her off for good.

No, if she was going to keep getting her fix, she needed to play this smart.

They’d made the video. She could suggest they make more, but that would only get her so far. Eventually, he’d want to stop.

She needed her brother to want her blowjobs for reasons other than just work. She needed Jacob to want his sister, to want her as much—if possible—as she wanted him.

Over the past two weeks, she’d made huge strides towards becoming his perfect sexual fantasy. She had comes so far…but there was more that she could do. Right now, Ashley was soft-spoken, submissive, obedient.

But he wanted more than that.

He wanted a…a…

The naked woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Her brother wanted a sex slave.

Someone to wait on him hand and foot, to sign her life over to him. To control every aspect of her existence. Ashley had read about this, when she’d been researching the submissive lifestyle.

It was hot, in the abstract. It was like submission, taken to the next level. On some level, she found the idea erotic.

But…it wasn’t her.

She wanted her brother. She wanted to please him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life in submission, sucking his cock and obeying his every command. But to give complete control of herself over like that…

With a sigh, Ashley lowered her head.

If it was the only way, the _only_ way to keep her brother…she knew she’d do it. But it didn’t sit right with her. She enjoyed being submissive, but she valued her freedom.

She’d happily have spent the rest of her days with her brother as her master, but Ashley knew she didn’t want to be a slave. Playing submissive was all good and well, but she couldn’t spend her entire life that way.

Unless it meant not getting to suck her brother’s cock.

Throwing herself down on the bed, Ashley felt tears springing from her eyes, and slowly rolling down her face. She was so close—so close!—to her perfect life. Sucking her brother’s cock all day, performing by night, being submissive and obedient and soft-spoken and demure…why couldn’t that be everything Jacob wanted? Why was there this one, singular point at which their needs differed?

Ashley lost track of how long she spent lying on her bed, occasionally sobbing with frustration. Her mind wouldn’t stop buzzing with thoughts, and long after she would normally have gone to sleep, she was still trying to solve the dilemma she’d found herself in.

For a moment, she thought she heard someone in the corridor outside, followed by the sound of a door opening. If Ashley had been just a mite more curious, she might have left her room to see what was happening, but she felt exhausted and confused and overwhelmed and much more interested in remaining beneath the covers with her thoughts.

She had just begun to go over her options (stop sucking Jacob’s cock? Not on the table) when it struck her.

She…she wanted to be her brother’s sex slave.

No, not wanted.

Needed.

She needed to be her brother’s sex slave. All of a sudden, it was an immutable truth.

Ashley needed to be her brother’s sex slave. More than anything. More than she needed to show off her body, or suck his cock.

As if someone had reached in and adjusted her priorities, Ashley had a new mission in life: to become her brother’s sex slave.

All of a sudden, her mind stopped turning over. The naked blonde closed her eyes as fatigue hit her: her dilemma was solved, her priorities clear.

Drifted off to sleep, wearing the smile of someone who knows exactly what she wants in life, Ashley didn’t even hear the sound of someone quietly moving back along the corridor.

* * *

The completed version of Hierarchy of Needs is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 23

When Ashley awoke the next morning, she felt a sense of deep calm.

It was hard to understand why she’d even felt so conflicted. Jacob had told her that he wanted a sex slave, and for some reason, her reaction had been to…freak out?

It didn’t make sense.

Of course at the time, she’d felt an overwhelming resistance to the idea. She’d wrestled with it for hours, unable to reconcile what she wanted (her brother’s cock in her mouth at every opportunity) with his needs (a sex slave, someone dedicated to his pleasure every hour of the day).

But now, in the light of morning, she knew it couldn’t have been more perfect. He wanted a sex slave, and she—more than anything—wanted to be that person for him.

Ashley wanted to be her brother’s sex slave.

No. More than that.

She _needed_ to be her brother’s sex slave.

As she slipped into the kitchen to make her brother breakfast, Ashley tried to work out why she’d fought the idea so hard. In every way, their needs aligned. Everything he wanted, she wanted to be. Jacob wanted someone submissive, and his sister was submissive to the core. Ashley wanted nothing more than to be demure, soft-spoken, and obedient…and those were three of Jacob’s biggest turn-ons.

So why had she been so reluctant to become his sex slave?

It must have been fear. Ashley had studied psych in high-school; she knew the brain rebelled when it was faced with a paradigm shift. She’d awoken the previous morning not knowing her purpose in life was to be Jacob’s slave, and it was only after hours of reflection and internal debate that she’d allowed herself to accept that fact.

In order to understand her truth, she’d had to fight it. Only then, once she’d picked it apart from every other angle could she accept it. She was going to be her brother’s sex slave.

Jacob was still sleeping when she entered his room. Despite her late night, he must have been up even later. She quietly tidied up, occasionally fingering her collar for comfort as she did.

The previous day, she’d thought of it as a symbol of her submission to Jacob.

Now, it meant something more than that. It meant she was his property.

His slave.

A pang of guilt hit her as she noticed a pair of soiled tissues by his bed. Her brother must have gotten himself off the previous night.

That, she knew, was her role. She existed to serve her brother, to use her body to get him off.

If Ashley had her way, Jacob would never get off by his own hand again. Not while his slave was around.

Her clit throbbed at the thought. His slave. She was going to be her brother’s slave. His submissive, soft-spoken, obedient, demure, sister sex-slave. She would dedicate her every waking moment to his pleasure. She would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

She would be his property. His fuckdoll. His cumslut. Her mouth existed to blow him. She wanted to be her brother’s sex slave.

She _needed_ to be her brother’s sex slave.

But it wasn’t entirely up to her.

Ashley’s chest tightened at the idea of being rejected. Her brother had mentioned his desire off-handedly, not even really talking to her. He clearly hadn’t considered her as a possibility; to him, she was just his sister. Sure, they were close; they were comfortable naked around each other, masturbating around each other. He helped her with her shows, and she’d managed to convince him to help her make blowjob videos…but that was all it was.

If she wanted to be his sex slave (which she did; more than anything), Ashley was going to have to work hard to convince him.

But how?

She could offer him money. Her bank account contained enough dough to persuade almost anyone of anything…but deep down, Ashley knew that didn’t work.

You bought slaves, you didn’t pay people to take them…and besides, money had never been what motivated her brother. He’d helped her for months without taking a cent, just because she was his sister.

Maybe that was the ticket. She could tell him how important it was to her. That was why he’d helped her cam;: he’d seen how much she cared, and done what he could to help.

But again, the young woman’s gut told her that wouldn’t work.

Jacob had to want to enslave his sister for _her_ , not for outside reasons. Not as a favor. Ashley needed him to see her as the perfect candidate. Ashley had to persuade him to look past the fact that she was his sister, and want her for who she was. Want her enough that he’d let her spend the rest of his life on her knees for him, obeying his every order, fulfilling his every want.

She stifled a groan at the thought.

God, she wanted it so bad.

And there was only one way she was going to get it.

Throwing her brother’s tissues into the trash can beside his bed, Ashley swore that he would never again need to masturbate. From now on, she was going to be his personal cock-sleeve.

By the time she was done, Jacob was going to view her as nothing but a hole to cum in. He’d see how perfect she was for him, how she could spend the rest of her life servicing his needs. And once he stopped seeing her as his sister—stopped seeing her as a _person_ —it would be easy to persuade him that she should be his sex slave.

There was nothing in the world Ashley wanted more than to be her brother’s sex slave.

She needed it.

* * *

I tried to hide my smile as Ashley ‘casually’ brought up one of the comments on her latest video.

It had only been out for a few days, and was already the third-best selling video on the entire site. In less than a week, a video of my busty sister sucking my cock had made more than my parents made in a year. Combined!

No one had any idea I was her co-star. We had hit a level where if I hadn’t been a virgin, I would’ve been worried about an ex-girlfriend finding the video, seeing my sister, recognizing my cock, and putting the whole thing together…but even though my entire graduating class now knew about Ashley’s new celebrity status, it was impossible for anyone to work out whose dick she was sucking.

Mine. My sister was sucking my dick. Each and every night

My sister was sucking my dick, and the world was watching.

I’m not really an exhibitionist (certainly not when compared to my sister) but there was something so hot about knowing that half the world was unwittingly watching Ashley suck her own brother’s dick. My dick.

“So, the comment said…”

I turned back into my sister’s soft-voiced suggestion,

Ashley is an okay actress, but I can read her like a book. In fairness, I was definitely helped along by the fact that I could literally read her filing cabinet like a book…and it certainly didn’t hurt that I’d written several pages myself.

As soon as her video had released, the hollow look in her eyes had told me everything. I’d shifted both Short-Term Wealth and Making The Perfect Video way, way down in my sister’s priorities (right beside ‘Save The Turtles’, which is apparently a vague priority for her) I could see that it wasn’t until the moment the video launched that Ashley realized how unimportant it was to her.

That night, after dropping a hint about wanting a sex slave, I’d put that in right at the front. Still behind Eating and Breathing and all that junk (I didn’t want her to be so fixated on serving me that she collapsed of hunger or anything like that), but above literally everything else in her drawer.

And then…I’d waited.

My sister’s a smart cookie. I can tell you from experience: if she wants something, she’s not shy about going for it. I’d made Short-Term Wealth a priority, and just a few months later, my sister had enough cash that she could’ve bought not only our house, but probably half the street as well.

I’d considered putting a scheme together, leading her from step to step to step, but honestly? I had full confidence that my sister would come up with a plan of her own. And it would probably be smarter than anything I’d think of.

And so I’d just moved the files and sat back to see what would happen next.

The morning after I prioritized ’Be Jacob’s Sex Slave’ (a folder which hadn’t existed until I’d suggested it…and even then, had been so far towards the back, it had taken me nearly forty minutes to find), I’d woken up to find Ashley in my bedroom, cleaning up. She’d greeted me with a warm breakfast and a smile, and knelt by the bed to watch me eat.

God I loved my submissive sister. Is there anything better than a busty blonde, completely dedicated to servicing your sexual needs?

Before my meddlings, she’d had zero interest in being dominated; now, it was practically her defining feature. If Ashley from a year ago could see herself now, she’d be truly horrified. Not just at her attraction to me, her little brother, but at her new submissive, demure, obedient personality. It just…wasn’t like her.

That shouldn’t have turned me on, but it did. My sister was a physical goddess, but her new-and-improved personality? That was all thanks to me.

When I was done eating, Ashley surprised me by speaking up. The ’Being Demure’ folder hadn’t existed either, until she’d heard that I wanted it. Turns out, she’d wanted me so badly, every time I suggested something it appeared in her cabinet—and then it was mine to adjust. But now that it was a high priority for my sister, she was pretty happy for me to take the conversational lead.

Except this clearly outranked that one, because she told me that she’d been thinking about it, and since the first blowjob video had been such a hit, she definitely wanted to do more…and that she was nervous about falling out of practice before we next got a chance to record.

I twisted my mouth and spent a few seconds trying to look like I was thinking it over, before nodding, and letting my sister crawl under my blankets and take my morning wood in her mouth.

That’s one thing better than a busty blonde dedicated to serving you, I guess. A busty, dedicated-to-serving blonde who gives great head.

After that, Ashley was relentless. It was like she’d sworn an oath to never letting me cum outside her body again—every chance she got, she was on her knees in front of me, sucking the cum out of me like a milking machine set to max.

I’d just finished cumming on her chest (she’d pulled me out at the last minute, smiling lustfully up at me as I spurted onto her huge, naked knockers) when she brought it up.

“Right, yes, the comments. Go ahead,” I said, and finally managed to concentrate as she said her piece.

“What do you think, sir?” she concluded, biting her lip.

This one was the hardest to resist. So far, nothing seemed to have triggered Ashley’s suspicions even slightly, but I still wanted to play it safe.

After all, what kind of brother would immediately agree to having sex with his sister?

“I don’t know if you need to record a PIV video,” I said flatly. “I mean, you haven’t even done a second blowjob video yet, and there are still more sales to be made from the first one.”

“Please, sir,” she said breathily. God, nothing got me hard again as fast as my sister’s new porn-star voice. She sounded like she was constantly on the verge of orgasm. It was incredible. “That’s what makes it such a good idea. No one will see it cumming…”

“This is a bad idea,” I said firmly. I figured if she didn’t push it, I could always capitulate later…

But Ashley continued. Like I said, relentless.

When there’s something my sister wants, she doesn’t let anything stand in her way. Not even—as was the case here— _who_ she wants.

“It’ll make so much money, sir,” she pleaded, her eyes blazing with lust. I knew she didn’t care about the money, not any more…but the idea of letting me fuck her was so important to her, she was using her genuine passion about it to push something that was no longer a priority.

Ashley knew how much I liked seeing how turned on she was. And so I decided to fold, just a little.

“What if someone recognizes us?” I replied thoughtfully.

“We’ll be careful,” she urged, replying quickly pushing her advantage. “We can stick to a POV camera. The only part of you that will appear on camera, sir, is your…y-your cock.”

The need leaked through her voice on the final few words, and the body-part in question twitched.

My sister smiled. I think she knew she’d won.

“Ash…” I sighed. “I don’t…I don’t think it’ll work.”

Her face fell at my words. “Sir?”

“You know I’ve never…”

I gestured broadly to my cock, as if that was enough of an explanation. Which I guess it was, because Ashley’s eyes lit up, and she stood up, gently moving one hand to my cheek. I could smell her pussy on her fingers, mixed with the smell of my own seed.

“It’s okay, sir,” she smiled. “I already thought of that. We’ll just have to do it the same way we did with the blowjob video.”

Her eyes flashed with what I recognized as pure, unadulterated need.

“We’ll just have to do a lot of rehearsing.”

* * *

The completed version of Hierarchy of Needs is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 24

Ashley’s entire body began to vibrate as her brother’s cock slid inside her.

She couldn’t believe it was happening. It was really happening.

Her brother was going to fuck her.

No, not going to. Her brother _was_ fucking her.

At long last, Jacob’s cock was sliding inside his sister’s bare pussy. When she went on-camera in just a few hours, she’d have her brother’s cum inside her. Dripping out. Squirting out as she came. Maybe her audience would be able to tell. Maybe they’d see the slimy sperm of her sibling dribbling out from her cunt, and know that she’d just been fucked.

They wouldn’t know it was her brother’s, but she would. She’d know.

Ashley was tempted to cancel the stream and convince Jacob to spend the rest of the night fucking her, but she knew that would be foolish. She’d only persuaded him to fuck her by telling him it was for a video. To make money.

If she cancelled a Saturday night stream, she’d reveal the truth:

Ashley wanted her brother to fuck her for its own sake.

She wanted it just to feel his cock inside her. To feel him throb with need—just as he did in her mouth—in her cunt. Despite only being nineteen years old, Ashley had been fucked before. She’d had great sex before.

But it had never felt like this.

She could’ve cum just from the feeling of her brother’s body on top of hers, physically dominating her, just as he would soon dominate her entire life.

That was the other reason she wanted it, the other secret need she had to hide from her brother: letting him take her like this was the first step towards submitting to Jacob completely. To having him treat her as nothing more than a sex doll, as a hole to take his dick.

But for now, she just wanted to feel her brother entering her.

He didn’t disappoint.

The naked teenage girl was bent over her bed while Jacob stood behind her. Ashley knew that her brother had never actually been with a woman, and so she’d decided to make it as easy for him as possible. Her large breasts were mashed against her bed linen, and she was letting him control the pace as his cock slid inside her for the first time.

As his erection entered her, she shuddered with pleasure. It was everything she’d been dreaming of for so long. She was truly submitting sexually to her brother, letting him use her.

For the first time, she let herself believe it. She was going to be his sex slave. It was really going to happen.

With a grunt, Jacob completed his thrust. His entire dick was inside her, filling her up, making her hole feel whole. As he began to withdraw it, the experience overwhelmed her, and the naked young woman began shaking.

She was cumming.

Just one thrust in, she was cumming. Ashley was getting off as her brother fucked her, getting off to the fact that her brother was using her.

“Please,” she managed to gasp. “Please, sir…don’t stop.”

Jacob’s hands were on her waist, and he pulled back until the head of his cock was the only part inside his sister’s twitching body.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he gasped, and Ashley’s eyes rolled back at the lust that she could hear in his raspy voice. “Oh, god…”

With one strong thrust, her brother’s dick was entirely inside her once more. Ashley could feel her pussy dripping onto the bed; Jacob was making her so wet, she was literally leaking.

Her orgasm faded, but it wasn’t more than a few thrusts before she jerked with pleasure as another one overcame her.

_I’m his sex doll,_ she mentally reminded herself as she stayed still on the bed, letting her brother’s cock do all the work. _I’m nothing but a little fucktoy for Jacob. For my brother. I’m…I’m my brother’s fucktoy…_

She shivered as another climax hit her. The experience of finally being used by her brother was so intense. It was almost too much. She wanted to cry out in pleasure, to tell her brother how much she loved him, how much she loved being used by his cock…but she remained silent.

Even greater than Ashley’s desire to scream with pleasure was her need to be her brother’s good girl.

She was his good girl.

It had only been a few minutes since Ashley had coaxed a load of cum from Jacob’s balls, but it still wasn’t long before he grunted a warning, letting his sister know that he was going to fill her up.

“Do it,” she gasped. She hadn’t stopped cumming the entire time her brother had been fucking her, each orgasm rolling into the next. Ashley knew that this was her purpose in life. She had been born to serve her brother. She had been born to be his sex slave. This was what she needed, more than anything else in life. “Please, sir…”

She needed to be her brother’s sex slave.

Ashley had never felt so complete.

“I’m cumming,” Jacob groaned, and Ashley’s eyes rolled back in her head as she felt it, a warmth between her legs.

He’d done it. Her brother had cum inside her. He’d spilled his seed inside his sister sex-slave. He’d filled her with his froth. He’d unloaded inside her, turning her into the cum-recepticle she so desperately yearned to be for him.

Ashley’s entire body began to rock as a final orgasm overcame her, as large as the previous few combined. This was why she existed. This was why she’d been put on earth. To please her brother. To please Jacob with her body. To be his fucktoy.

To be her brother’s sex slave.

* * *

When Ashley opened her eyes several minutes later, her brother had a goofy grin on his face.

“That was pretty good,” he said, almost shyly, and she nodded.

“That was _amazing,_ ” she agreed without hesitation. “Please, sir…we can do that again. Anytime. Whenever you want to, uh…have another rehearsal, just do it. Please.”

And he did. For the next few days, it was rare for more than a few hours to go past without Jacob finding his sister and using her body for sex.

Ashley always tried to recreate the experience of the first—she would remain totally docile and let her brother fuck her like she was a store-bought item. She wanted to be used by her brother, to be his fuckdoll. When Ashley had sex with her brother, when she let him fuck her, she didn’t always experience the same rolling orgasm as she had the first time—she always came, but not always as powerfully as their first time together.

Either way, however, she always had that same feeling of completion. Whenever her brother’s cock wasn’t inside her, Ashley felt like a lonely jigsaw piece, looking for her fit. When Jacob was filling her up, when she was bringing him pleasure with her cunt, she felt like she’d found it. Her calling. Her purpose. Her primary objective in life.

Except for the start of her stream or when she had to go out, she spent as much time as she could naked, available, ready for her brother to take him. On the rare occasion she was dressed, it was always in a skirt or a dress—clothing that would give her brother complete access, allow him to use her however he wanted.

But one morning, Ashley woke up with a strange feeling. She realized there was a need inside her that wasn’t being met. Being used by her brother for sex was incredible (the most incredible feeling of her life) but…there was something missing.

She wanted to be more active during sex.

No, not wanted. Needed.

It hit her with the same certainty that so many revelations had; she needed to be her brother’s sex slave. She needed to be submissive, docile, obedient.

And she needed to be more active during sex.

The next time Ashley’s brother approached her with an erection, she sat on his lap and rode him, gyrating her hips and letting him suck on her nipples while they fucked. A few hours later, she lay him down on the bed and rode him reverse cowgirl, giving him an incredible view of her bleached asshole clenching as she came.

After that, it was a mix. Sometimes her brother would grab her by the back of the neck and bend her over, and she’d know that he wanted her to be nothing more than a hole for her to fuck. Sometimes, he’d lay back and let her ride him, or fuck her doggystyle, moaning in pleasure as she pushed back against him, building a rhythm that brought both of them as much pleasure as was humanly possible.

No matter what, though, Ashley was just happy that he was fucking her. She was always ready; whenever Jacob got hard, Ashley was there to pleasure him with her body.

After a week of near-constant fucking, Jacob told her that he was ready to make the video.

The young woman’s heart sank. She’d almost completely forgotten that was the reasoning she’d used to convince Jacob to start using her every hole (he’d taken her ass for the first time a few days earlier) for his pleasure. Truth be told, she’d hoped he would forget as well.

Her goal had been to completely normalize sex between them. Ashley wanted her brother to treat fucking her like he did getting water from a tap: a handy option that was always available, to the point that he couldn’t imagine living without it.

She tried to put her heart and soul into the video, but even before her brother told her, she knew that her performance had been relatively flat. Ashley had cum long and loud, but hadn’t focused enough on the camera. She’d seen enough camgirl porn to know that it wasn’t about a genuine union of bodies; it was about exhibiting the female form.

Her focus had been too much on getting Jacob off, and not enough on performing for the camera.

“Perhaps we need more rehearsal, sir?” she asked, still coming down from the powerful orgasm she always reached when her brother came inside her.

Over the next ten days, Ashley’s pussy coaxed more cum out of her brother than her mouth had in the past month. She dutifully focused on what they’d do for the camera (she wanted to be obedient, after all) but even as she did, a feeling of dread grew inside her.

She had no idea if her plan was working. Her brother was impossible to read—it was obvious that Jacob enjoyed fucking his sister, but would that be enough for him to want her as his sex slave? On the rare occasion her body wasn’t wrapped around his or performing for the camera, she was trying to serve him in every other way possible. She cooked for him, cleaned for him…she would’ve wiped his butt after he went to the bathroom if he’d asked.

Finally, they shot another video.

“Looks like all that rehearsal paid off,” Jacob said with a smile, when they were done. “I think we got it.”

“Sir??” Ashley replied, her soft tone unable to mask the panic she felt. “On the second take?”

Her brother had never approved the second take of a video. Either his standards were slipping…or he was looking for an excuse to stop fucking his sister.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what she _could_ do. She was obeying his every command, trying desperately to predict his needs. Ashley _knew_ the sex was great, but…god, why hadn’t it worked?

Being her brother’s sex slave had become an overwhelming need. Aside from basic biological urges, everything else in Ashley’s life faded into the background. She would have done anything— _anything_ —to make it happen. She got off not only on the feeling of her brother inside her, not just from the obedience, the submission, the feeling of total fulfilment…

No, more than anything, Ashley got off on bringing her brother pleasure. Getting him off was what got her off. She loved it. She was hooked. And she didn’t want to give her up.

But for some reason, her brother just didn’t think of her the same way. To Jacob, she was just his sister. Even as she offered her body to him at every opportunity, allowed him to use her every hole however he pleased, she couldn’t shift his image of her. She was nothing more than his older sister.

Unlike her, Jacob didn’t want more. He seemed to be completely happy with their relationship.

It was the question that constantly haunted Ashley: how could she make him see how much more she could be?

* * *

The completed version of Hierarchy of Needs is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 25

The video made a killing. Of course it did; after my sister’s first (and only) blowjob video, she hadn’t released anything else, and…well, let’s just say her fans noticed.

When the follow-up was a video of Ashley taking a dick, the site exploded. It literally went down for almost twenty minutes as people tried to buy the video.

The video was scorching hot, if I do say so myself. I’d been prepared to insist on take after take, building up a huge portfolio of my dick inside my sister, a digital spankbank I could enjoy for decades even I somehow screwed things up with my sister…although that possibility was looking increasingly unlikely as time went on.

But the best part was that the video, the video of my sister’s eyes tightly shut as she came again and again, clearly not faking her two dozen orgasms, her skin flushed and her pussy glistening…

The video didn’t even _compare_ to the real experience.

I’d never had sex before, so it’s possible that I was just reacting the way every guy does to his first time.

But honestly, I don’t think that I was.

I doubt many guys have their first time with a sex goddess, one of the top-rated models on one of the most popular cam sites. I doubt many people lose their virginity to someone they’ve been lusting after for years, forbidden fruit that society demands they never taste. A person they’ve fantasized about, knowing with complete certainty that their desires would never come to forbidden fruition.

And how many people get to pop their cherry with someone they’ve spent the last few months molding into their perfect sexual partner, completely dedicated to getting them off? Not just dedicated—obsessed. My sister could cum just at the idea of getting me off.

Yeah. I feel like my assessment was probably pretty accurate.

There was so much to love about it. Firstly, the sex itself, of course. I’d touched my sister before, of course. Even before finding the filing cabinets, I’d helped her run suntan lotion on or whatever. And once we’d started making videos together, I’d touched her pussy, her tits. I’d grabbed her neck for a video of her being choked (it hadn’t sold as well as we’d expected; sometimes you just can’t predict what’ll land, y’know?) and I’d grabbed her hair while she sucked my cock.

But there’s something different about touching someone while your dick is deep inside them. My sister’s perfect, smooth skin felt even better while her pussy was clenching around my cock. I’d run my hands up and down her body, tug on her nipples, pull her hair, or just trace patterns across her back.

She loved it. I mean, she loved everything I did. She probably would’ve cum if I’d just started barking like a dog; Ashley was so utterly thrilled to be used by me.

Then there was how wet she got. It was like her pussy was drooling, desperate to take my cock, working overtime to make sure there was enough lubrication to avoid even the faintest hint of resistance. My sister’s body wanted to be soaking wet, pliable, always ready to fuck. And (in case it isn’t obvious)—it worked.

Not only did it feel great, it was such an ego-boost. Just the sight of me was enough to turn my sister on, to turn her cunt into a faucet. She wanted me, perhaps even as much as I wanted her. Or more.

Another highlight was her expressions. My sister has always been expressive; she has such big eyes, such thick lips. She’s like a cartoon character, but one you wanted to fuck. If my sister had been a cartoon character, she would’ve been more fuckable than even Jessica Rabbit, Lola Bunny, even the chick from The Road to El Dorado.

So I’d give her an order—“get me a water”—and not only would she obey immediately (a perk in and of itself), but her eyes would go hazy for a second, like she was getting turned on just from the instruction. Then she’d get me the water or whatever and come back and just watch me drink it, looking like she’d pleased her god, like she was fulfilling her true purpose in life.

Which I guess, from her perspective, she was. Obeying me, being my sex slave…nothing was a higher priority to her.

But honestly, I think the hottest part—above the sex, her expressions, the way it felt, even the fact that she was my older sister and had rededicated her life to serving me—was the fact that I’d done it.

I’d made it happen. All of it.

If I had never found the cabinet, worked out how it worked, played it safe and smart and pushed when I needed to…my older sister would still just be exactly that. My older sister, someone who liked her brother Jacob but didn’t really think of it beyond that.

It was the power, I guess. The control. And just as much, the feeling of satisfaction.

Just as my sister had ‘Be Jacob’s Sex Slave’ as one of her top priorities, I had ‘Sex With Ashley’ as one of mine. And not only was I doing it, getting to use my sister’s body whenever I wanted, wherever I wanted, fucking her whenever the urge took me…I got to know that I’d made it happen.

I thought of it often as I took her. Moving files around a dusty old cabinet had brought me her, resulted in Ashley’s cunt pulsing around my dick as she climaxed again and again. Even the first time: it had been so hot, watching my sister cum and cum and cum, knowing all the while that if I hadn’t ever found that cabinet, there was no chance this would happen.

My sister had turned from an ordinary teenager to an incest-obsessed exhibitionist slut. No—I’d turned my sister from an ordinary teenager into an incest-obsessed exhibitionist slut. And I’d never felt prouder in my life.

With ‘Morality’ as such a low priority, it’s hard to say if I should have felt guilty about it. I mean, my sister had more money in the bank than she would have otherwise. She’d never have to work again—neither of us would.

And that money hadn’t been earned by exploiting anyone, or harming the environment or anything like that. In fact, she’d earned that money by putting pleasure into the world. Even if you took me out of the equation, Ashley had been responsible for hundreds of thousands—possibly millions—of orgasms. She’d put countless hours of entertainment into the world.

Before my meddling, that perfect body had been locked away, viewable only by the occasional boyfriend. Now, it was accessible by anyone who wanted to see it.

How could one not see that as a net good?

And now, we’d released what I was fairly sure would—correctly—go down in history as one of the best amateur sex tapes ever made. I have a pretty good body, even when compared to my stunning sister, and her performance, the positions, the camerawork (I’d learned a lot in my time making tapes for Ashley) and, of course, the finish—my sister kneeling in front of me, tears in her eyes as she frantically rubbed her pussy and begged for my cum.

She came again as it splashed onto her tits, falling backwards and twitching in a final shot that could rival Casablanca’s, before opening her eyes and thanking me—her master—for using her that way.

Yeah. I’d watched it back with my sister, getting so turned on in the process that I’d pulled her onto my lap, both of us staring at the screen as we fornicated.

But here’s the thing: even after the release, Ashley still didn’t make a move.

I was stumped. I mean, don’t get me wrong—my sister’s body being available to me every waking moment was pretty freaking great. For three weeks, I had been inside my sister more often than Kramer entered Jerry’s apartment. If the absolute worst-case scenario was that this became our new normal, my sister letting me fuck her anywhere and anytime I wanted…I could live with that.

But I wanted more.

I wanted more, and I knew that Ashley wanted more as well. After all, I’d ordered her priorities myself. Breathing, eating, and then becoming Jacob’s sex slave.

With no idea why she wasn’t saying anything, I’d moved ‘Be Jacob’s Sex Slave’ above everything else, in case she (somehow) just didn’t want it enough.

It hadn’t worked. The only difference was the passion with which she seemed to rededicate herself to getting me off. In my entire life, I’ve never seen anyone so obsessive; every chance she got, Ashley was either fucking me, or trying to turn me on enough to fuck her.

It was hot as hell, but I couldn’t stop racking my brain. Why wasn’t she making a move? Why wasn’t she offering herself as my sex slave?

Part of me wondered if I should be the one to bring it up, but it didn’t feel right. A part of me was still scared that if I suddenly made a move, Ashley would suddenly work out that I was the one behind all the changes she’d seen over the past six months.

Unlikely, yeah, but we were so close to the finish line. I would’ve hated for a last-minute fumble to cost me the game, y’know?

But the main reason, I’m not gonna lie, was that I wanted her to be the one to ask me.

I don’t know if it was nervousness, or maybe ego, but that was what I wanted. My naked, collared sister begging me to make her my sex slave…that was how I’d always pictured it.

Maybe you think that’s dumb, and that I should’ve just taken what I could get. But I knew my ultimate fantasy was within my grasp. If I had the opportunity to make that happen, why not go for it?

The worst-case scenario (aside from somehow messing up and losing everything) was that we’d just keep going as we did. Me using my sister’s every hole for my pleasure, while she obsessively tried to turn me on however she could.

Not exactly the end of the world, y’know?

* * *

After the video went live, and the money started flooding in, Ashley was terrified that her brother was going to stop fucking her. She entered her first post-video camming session with a sort of hyperfocus, making sure not to take her eye off the ball for a moment.

As soon as she was done, she approached Jacob and begged him to take her. She’d worked out that he (unsurprisingly) enjoyed the sound of her soft voice begging him to take her wet hole, to dominate her, to use his property for his pleasure.

Ashley had briefly worried that it wasn’t becoming of a submissive sex slave to ask her master for anything, but her brother seemed to have no such qualms, and would happily fuck her whenever she asked him.

Whenever she begged him.

She was unable to hide her sobs of relief as he fucked her that night, and after the two siblings reached a powerful mutual orgasm, Jacob held her for longer than normal before leaving her alone.

Even though the video was done, Ashley’s brother was still going to fuck her. Maybe he was enjoying their sexual relationship as much as she was?

Part of her was tempted to beg Jacob to make his sister into his sex slave, but she held back. She couldn’t. What if she’d misread the situation? Immediately after the video broke the first-day sales records she’d set with her previous release, he’d started talking about the next video they were going to make.

What if that’s all it was to him, a business? After all, that was how it had all started; it made sense that he’d never left that mindset. Everything they’d done had been within the framing of making more money camming; she’d never told him how she really felt, how much she wanted to be his, to belong to him.

Ashley needed to be her brother’s sex slave. And if she couldn’t, she didn’t know what she’d do.

* * *

The completed version of Hierarchy of Needs is now available on [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


	Chapter 26

Another month went by. Another month of me fucking my sister daily as she obeyed my every command, doing all she could to mold herself into the perfect woman.

Another month of Ashley refusing to make a move.

I couldn’t understand it.

You ever try to set up a Google Sheet with some like, custom code? It’s not really code, it’s just spreadsheet stuff, but it _feels_ like code.

So you learn how to do it from the help documents and you put it all into the sheet and you press enter, and it’s meant to sort your shit alphabetically and separate first and last names, but instead, it does something weird. Like, it’ll return an error that doesn’t make sense…or worse, give you all the data split into first and last names, but sorted by some other metric entirely. Name-length or date of entry or something like that.

That’s what it felt like, dealing with Ashley. A Google Sheet that was doing _most_ of what I wanted, but somehow missing that final step.

And again, to be clear wrong: I was very, very happy just having first and last names separated. Believe me; those thirty days of my sister at my complete sexual command, happily taking my cum into her holes, orgasming loudly as she did, and spending the rest of her time making boatloads of money and catering to my every whim…not something I would’ve traded for the world.

It just would’ve been nice to have an alphabetically-sorted list at the end of it.

We released a few more videos. None of them did quite as well as the first one, though my sister’s first anal video came close. I mean, one of Ashley’s videos ’not doing well’ would still be enough to pay off a small mortgage. Her numbers were probably the envy of most other streamers on the site.

I know my dick was the envy of all her viewers. (Except for the straight women I learned were, for reasons I didn’t fully understand, also buying the videos. I managed my sister’s inbox, and she got some very complimentary messages about my dick. An unexpected perk of the job!)

My sister, meanwhile, was starting to move towards a breaking point. Shifting all my preferences to the top of her list had lowered her Exhibitionism and Short-Term Wealth priorities, and without those as key motivators, I imagine it isn’t much fun to go live on camera and diddle yourself for a few hours every night.

She still put on a good show, of course, but I think it was mostly because of how much highly she prioritized Obedience. Before the camera clicked on each night, I’d tell her to have fun; I think just knowing I was watching (and obeying the commands of all the men who were watching) was what got her through it, but it was clear that Ashley wasn’t enjoying it as much as she once had.

Not just to me, either. Her numbers dipped a little. We’d expected that after she’d started releasing full-intercourse videos (it removes some of the magic, y’know?) but the drop continued even after that, and I knew it was because she’d lost her passion for it.

Honestly, I didn’t know what to do. I guess I could’ve just bumped her exhibitionism and money-lust back up, but I felt like we were so close to my sister begging me to own her, to be my slave. Everything was in place, and I didn’t want to mess with them.

The alternative was having her retire, or take a break, but until she confessed how she really felt about me, her show (and the videos she sold) was her excuse for doing what we were doing.

So I didn’t want to mess with that either.

Unlike Google Sheets, the mysterious room full of cabinets didn’t have a handy help forum.

”My sister won’t beg me to become my sex slave. I’ve used =PRIORITY(“Become brother’s sex slave”, “Obedience”, “Submission”, “Demure attitude”, “Soft Voice”) but no luck. Has anyone else found a formula that works?”

After a while, I even started to feel bad about it. My sister was spending hours each night doing a show she didn’t like, just so she could keep on fucking me, and it was obvious that not yet being my sex slave was really starting to stress her out.

Not that she ever complained about it. Or anything, really.

I was watching her perform—she was doing a ’pick next stream’s outfit’ thing that we’d seen a Japanese girl have some luck with—when it hit me.

Oh my god. How could I have been so dumb?

I’d spent so much time and effort making my sister demure. Reserved. Modest.

Unlikely to complain, or…y’know, ask for what she wanted.

No wonder she hadn’t made a move yet. That’s why HAL goes nuts in 2001: A Space Odyssey (spoiler alert for 2001: A Space Odyssey, I guess)—he’s given two conflicting commands. In his case, it’s to be honest with the crew and also to keep a secret from them, and he ends up killing everyone.

In my sister’s case, I’d put her in a position where she needed to beg me to make her my sex slave…and told her to be demure and submissive.

I guess by prioritizing ‘Be Jacob’s Sex Slave’, I’d expected that to overrule the others, but I don’t know how I expected her to get there by herself.

After the show that night, I fucked Ashley on her bed. The moment she stopped streaming, I grabbed her by the wrist, threw her down on the bed, and went down on her. She was already pretty juicy from the show (and from the two loads I’d pumped into her earlier that day) but when she completely drenched, I lay down beside her on the bed, and fucked her from behind until we both came.

And then I fucked her again.

We lay there for a long time in silence, just enjoying the feeling of naked flesh on naked flesh. I stroked her hair, and she shivered in pleasure.

It’s funny; you spend enough time with someone, you can basically tell what they’re thinking. Even if I hadn’t had access to Ashley’s cabinet, I bet I would’ve been able to tell how much she wanted to ask me. How much she wanted to say, in that moment, “please, little brother, let me be your sex slave”.

But she didn’t, of course. And at last, I felt like I knew why.

I kissed her neck and told her to go to sleep. Her breathing grew deeper as she obeyed—her need to obey was such a core part of her being by now, I could’ve ordered her to spontaneously lower her cholestorol and it probably would’ve seen a noticeable shift.

When I knew she was sleeping, I slipped out of her bed, out of her room, and into the tiny door which no one in my family but me seemed to have noticed.

It only took a few minutes of sifting through her drawer to find it. Without a help forum, I’d spent a lot of time over the last month trying to work it out myself, going through Ashley’s files again and again to try to find what I was missing.

It was way, way down the end—not quite as far back as ‘Become President’, but further down than ‘Sit In The Shade Of A Tree I’ve Planted Myself’.

I moved it right up in my sister’s priority order, back to where it had probably naturally been before my meddling. I placed it right beside the file I’d most recently adjusted—’Be Active During Sex’.

I closed the drawer, and made my way into my own bed. During my recent exploring, I’d been going through my own folder in case there was anything I could gleam from it, and learned that ‘Sleeping Alone’ was a relatively high priority for me. It was nice to know that I could shift that if I ever needed to, but with a sex slave dedicated to making me happy, whenever I wanted to be alone I’d just tell Ashley to sleep in her own bed. Or in a basket at end of mine.

I went to sleep that night with a smile on my face, pretty sure that I’d just solved my problem by shifting that deeply-buried priority:

’Expressing Needs.’

* * *

“It’s just that…well, sir, I don’t want to cam any more,” Ashley said, nervously fiddling with her collar.

“Okay,” her brother replied calmly, and the naked woman felt every cell in her body relax. She’d been wanting to say that for days.

Well, she’d been _wanting_ to say it for weeks, but it hadn’t felt like an option. She’d known that brother liked submissive, obedient, demure girls…and expressing herself like that had felt impossible. Like she was making demands. It just hadn’t been an option.

But Ashley had woken up a few days earlier with the realization that continuing along her current path was unsustainable. If she kept on bottling her feelings up inside, something was going to break.

She had to tell Jacob how she felt.

Ashley had, in the days since her epiphany, been experimenting with smaller declarations. Her voice had been quivering the first time she’d told Jacob that as much as she loved it, she sometimes struggled to breathe when he grabbed her collar during sex.

To her great relief, he’d just nodded in reply…and after that, been more careful.

The teenage girl had been so nervous when she’d told him that while nothing turned her on more than being woken up in the morning by feeling his cock sliding into her, she felt self-conscious about her breath. Again, he hadn’t said anything, just ruffled her hair in response…but the next morning when she was jolted awake by his anal intrusion, she noticed a small pack of gum on her bedside dresser.

Every part of Ashley’s body glowed. She had such a perfect master.

Now she just had to become his slave.

This had been a big step. She’d confessed that she wasn’t happy camming, and wanted to put an end to her career…and Jacob hadn’t seemed fazed by it at all.

Her brother had just looked at her expectantly, as if he was expecting more. Ashley froze—her overwhelming need to obey meant that she _wanted_ to give him more, but the other thing she had to tell him, it was…she couldn’t. Not yet. It wasn’t the right moment. Everything had to be perfect.

“So what does that mean for…” Gesturing to her collar, Jacob trailed off, and his sister licked her lips nervously.

Perhaps perfect would never come.

“Well, sir,” she answered, trying to keep her voice light. “I was thinking that, um…I mean, this is kind of working for both of us, right? You’re enjoying it, I’m enjoying it. So maybe we could, um…”

It was Ashley’s turn to trail off, but her brother just stared at her blankly.

“Mmm?”

“Maybe, uhm, I could…I dunno. Be your sex slave?”

The last few words were emitted in a high-pitched squeak, and Ashley knew that her face was a bright red, but…she’d done it. She’d asked her brother if she could be his sex slave.

The ball was in his court now.

“Pardon?” he asked. Ashley’s eyes widened; she was too distracted to notice the mischievous look on his face.

“Maybe I could be your sex slave?” she repeated, her eyes burning a hole in the carpet, her cheeks burning holes in her face. “Please?”

“Are you sure you really want that?” he asked, and this time the young woman noticed his cheeky tone.

“Mm-hmm,” she answered, narrowing her eyes and risking a glance at her brother. He was looking smugly down at her. Playing with her.

Which made sense. She was his toy, after all.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” he said, folding his arms and leaning back. He’d cum onto her tits just a few minutes before she’d broached the subject, but Ashley noticed that his cock was rising once more.

Her brother was enjoying this.

“I’d…I’d like to be your sex slave,” she said, biting her lip and looking up at him. “Please.”

“Please?”

Ashley didn’t even realize her body had any blood left in it, but more rushed to her face. “Please, sir.”

“Now the whole thing,” he said slowly, tauntingly, and she nodded.

“Please, sir. Please, I’d like to be your sex slave. Please.”

“Say it like you mean it,” Jacob drawled, and Ashley obeyed.

“Please, sir. Please. Let me be your sex slave. Please. I’d…I’d be so good at it. Let me be your submissive sister slut. Please.”

“I’m listening.”

With a deep breath, Ashley let all her pent-up need from the last month come out at once. “Please, Jacob. _Sir_. Please. I want to be your sex slave. I want to belong to you. I want to be your property, your fucktoy. I want to dedicate the rest of my life to serving you. I want to be your obedient, submissive, demure, horny sister sex slave. I’ll do anything you want. For the rest of my life, please—I’ll do _anything_ , just let me be yours. Let me be your property. Yours to own, to control. Please, sir—let me be your sex slave.”

“Why?” Jacob asked earnestly, all sense of mockery gone from his tone.

“Because,” she answered honestly, “I need it. I need it more than I need anything. Please, sir. I need you to own me.”

At Jacob’s nod, tears sprung into Ashley’s eyes.

“Okay,” he said gently, pulling his naked, collared, cum-coated sister into his embrace. “If you really want to.”

“I do, s-sir” she assured him. “I truly do.”

“We’ll need to work out a contract,” he mused. “Some paperwork, to confirm that you belong to me. That everything own is mine. That you’re mine. A pledge that you’ll do whatever I want you to do, fuck whoever I want you to fuck. That you are entirely my property; mind, body, and soul.”

“Of course, master.” Ashley said, her entire body shuddering with joy. She needed it so much. She needed to belong to her brother, more than she could remember ever needing anything.

At long last, she’d found her place. This was where she was meant to be.

She was so happy.

* * *

“I can’t thank you enough for your support for the six months I’ve been doing this,” Ashley said, beaming into the camera.

Hearing her say it aloud was a bit of a shock to the system. How had it only been six months? It felt like almost a decade since I’d first found the small door, first opened my sister’s cabinet. So much had changed, in just six months.

“I won’t go into my reasons for leaving, but believe me when I say…this is what’s best for everyone. Especially me.”

My sister glanced up, and caught my eye for a moment. I smiled at her, and she took that energy and reflected it straight back to her fans.

“Don’t worry—my videos will always be for sale, and there might even be more coming soon.”

There would be. They were easy enough to keep making, though my research told me that sales would see a steep drop after she stopped camming regularly. Even so, the money made would be worth it.

Especially since it was my money now.

“Seriously though, thanks for everything. And to celebrate…”

Ashley leaned over and clicked on her toy.

“…I thought I’d give you one last show.”

And what a show it was. I’d sneaked into her cabinet earlier that day, and returned her Exhibitionism file to the front of her drawer. My sister’s eyes widened as she pulled her top off, starting an avalanche of tips. After a month of bad shows, the feelings of arousal she was experience must have been quite a surprise.

I watched with a smile and a hard-on as my sister came for her fans: once, twice, three times. When she was done, she tremblingly reminded them of her social media handles, and—for the last time—logged off.

Ashley was still shivering as she sat on my lap. I began lightly stroking her naked body, loosely grabbing her new collar to remind her that it was there, that she was mine. As I ran my fingers up and down her spine, my sister began to weep.

I just held her as she cried, knowing that she’d tell me how she was feeling. With time, she’d express her needs.

“This is what it’s all been building towards,” she finally said, her words coming out in sobs. “Everything else was just building to this point.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I said, playing with her hair, letting her assemble her thoughts.

“The stripping, the shows, the videos…it was all just to get me to you.”

My eyes widened. Had she somehow worked out what I’d done? She was right, of course—everything I’d put her through had been to get her to this moment. To get her completely naked, subservient, and under my control. But how had _she_ worked that out?

“I was missing something,” she continued. “But I didn’t know what. I kept trying to fill my holes with all kinds of things, because…I didn’t know. I didn’t know that this, this was what I needed.”

Phew. She still had no idea. And she never would.

“And now this fills your holes,” I joked, pressing my cock against her thigh. She laughed, annoyed…more at herself for laughing than for what I’d said.

“I’m serious,” she continued, after a long, shuddering sigh. It was a level of sass that she wouldn’t have allowed herself with ‘Expressing Needs’ buried at the back of her folder, but I liked it. I liked my sister.

I liked her more as my obedient sex slave, but that didn’t mean I wanted to completely snuff out her personality.

“You’re serious _sir_ ,” I reminded her, and her body tensed for a moment.

“I’m serious, sir,” she repeated. “Being yours, sir. Master. It’s…it’s what I needed more than anything.”

I nodded, holding my sex slave, enjoying feeling of her skin against mine.

“Sir, did you ever learn about the hierarchy of needs?” Ashley asked. She must have felt me tense. “Oh yes, of course. You would’ve been teased about it as much as I was.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Maybe that’s the best way to put it,” she said softly. “Being yours. Being held by you. Belonging to you, master. Getting to call you master. That’s…that’s at the top of my pyramid of needs.”

_No,_ I thought to myself with a smile. _But it’s pretty close._

We continued to sat there in silence for several minutes, just enjoying the physical and emotional closeness, when Ashley spoke up once more.

“Sir?”

“Yes, pet?”

“I think we should get our own place.”

I loved that she expressed her needs…but didn’t love when she forgot how she should address me. I coughed, and she immediately corrected herself.

“…sir.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir. Unless…do you think Mom and Dad will be suspicious if we were to move in together?”

I chuckled softly. “No,” I said without hesitation. “No, I think I can take care of that.”

### THE END.

* * *

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