"Hold still, honey," my wife laughed as she adjusted my bowtie. "Honestly. This looked a lot easier on YouTube. And the guy in that video didn't keep squirming!"
"Sorry," I mumbled. Becca was so close the subtle scent of her vanilla grapefruit perfume was tickling my nose as she struggled with my tie.
"I'm almost done," she grunted with a final tug, her cute face scrunched up in concentration. Satisfied, she straightened my lapels, then stood back and checked her work, tilting her head slightly before nodding. "Okay, I think you're all set." She waved me over and we stood next to each other in front of the bedroom floor-length mirror.
I thought we looked pretty good if I did say so myself. This year's Christmas theme was Victorian, and I had on an old-fashioned black men's suit with tails, a top hat, bowtie, and a diamond-tipped cane. My wife had sewn herself a beautiful, delicate blue dress, deep-cut in the front showing off her cleavage, which was supplemented by the strapless push-up bra she had on underneath. While making her outfit she'd excitedly talked my ear off about the various period-appropriate touches, but these had all slipped my mind; all I knew was that she looked amazing in it, the look finished with a shawl, some costume jewelry, and a light touch of makeup on her delicate features. She’d even styled her long brown hair era-appropriately in an elegant updo.
We were all dressed up for our annual Christmas party, and this year we were going all out as it was a bit of a celebration for us. I was making enough at my job, and we had enough saved up, that Becca was able to quit her nine to five and work full time on her passion for fashion, hand-making clothes; she made a little money selling these online, but this was secondary to the joy of creating.
There were still a few hours before the party, and we went downstairs to make sure everything was ready. Satisfied, we had nothing else to do; my wife sat herself at the piano in the living room and started playing and singing "The Holly and the Ivy". She was on the second verse when the doorbell rang.
"Now who is that?" she frowned. "Nobody's this early, right?"
"It's probably a package. I'll get it."
But it wasn't a package; when I opened the front door my big sister Joy barged in, yelling "Heyyyyyy, brooooooo!" Before I could ask what she was doing here she got me in a headlock, knocking my hat off and bellowing "Noogies! You're not too big for these!", digging her knuckles into the top of my head.
Only with great difficulty did I manage to free myself, and my question of what she was doing here so early died in my throat as I beheld her completely inappropriate outfit, a very small neon-green dress. Frankly, she looked like shit, and it wasn't just her clothes; her large eyes could look pretty under the right circumstances, but just now they were bloodshot and sporting heavy bags underneath them. Her wide mouth was plastered with the same hideous bright green lipstick as her dress, and her long blonde hair was a snarled mess down her back.
"Joy, how wonderful to see you," Becca deadpanned as she came over, a fuck-you note in my wife’s voice my sister completely missed. “Don’t you look, ah… lovely.”
“Thanks, sis,” Joy breezed.
"Joy, what are you doing here?” I asked nervously. “The party isn't starting for -" I checked my pocket watch - "over three hours."
"Oh, yeah," she slurred. "Well, about that. Actually, you know, it's Christmas, right? And people share around the holidays. So if you could loan me-"
"The answer is no," my wife cut in with her ice-cold voice.
"I'm not asking you, all right?" Joy sneered. "I'm not asking you!"
"Well, I'm telling you no anyway-"
"I don't want your pocket change!" Joy screamed at my wife.
"Joy, I'm going to say this once," Becca said, her voice low and dangerous. "It's Christmas, so I'm going to pretend you're not here. Turn around, leave our house, and come back in three hours for the party-"
“Yeah, yeah, right,” Joy cut in excitedly. “But, uh, you know, guys, I saw on Facebook you two have some money now, so I was thinking-”
“Joy,” Becca tried one more time, her voice straining as she tried to keep a hold of herself. “I’m sorry, but-”
“Now, don’t be sorry,” Joy cut in again, draping one arm over my wife’s shoulders, Becca’s face scrunching up in disbelief as her sister in law leaned into her personal space. “Be generous. It’s the season of giving-”
“Joy,” Becca started, lifting my sister’s arm and scooting out from under it. “Let me be as clear as possible. You are not going to ruin our party, and you are not going to ruin our Christmas, and you are not going to ruin our lives!" Becca’s voice rose until she was screaming as loud as I'd ever heard. "Now get the fuck out of here!" She pointed angrily at the front door, and I could have heard a pin drop as Joy didn't move, glaring at her, my sister's eyes set hard and mean. She came around to Becca’s front, my wife still angrily pointing, and I followed, afraid something terrible was about to happen.
"Look here, missy," Joy tried, but Becca started chanting "No" over her; every time Joy started saying something, Becca would drown her out with a "No! No!"
Joy got madder and madder, her face flushing bright red, her hands shaking, until she howled “Shut up!” terrifyingly loud, then grabbed Becca’s dress. With one long, heart-stopping rppppppppppppp, she tore the dress my wife had put months and months of work into straight down the middle.
You could have cut the tension with a knife in oppressive silence that settled over the room. I stood there rooted to the spot, staring at my wife, standing there in just her underwear, her eyes growing huge and crazy as what my sister had just done dawned on her. For her part, I think Joy realized she'd gone too far, even as she stood there holding the ruined tatters of my wife's dress in her hands.
The silence was broken as Becca launched herself at Joy with a keening cry of fury, slamming into my sister and taking her down to the floor, tearing at her face and hair. Joy overcame her shock quickly, bucking Becca off with a roar.
I had to break this up before they killed each other, and I came up behind Joy before she could do anything but get up. I reached for her arms, and she turned and decked me, moving so quick I didn't know what was happening until I was sitting on my butt, blinking in confusion and bleeding from the nose.
"What the hell did you do?" Becca yelled, running over to kneel in front of me with a horrified frown. "Honey, you're going like a faucet!"
"I'd not dat bab," I told her, although I had no idea how bad it was; looking down, I was already staining my white dress shirt bright red.
"Let me see," Joy barked, trying to shove Becca out of the way.
"Fuck off, you've done enough!" my wife yelled, turning angrily on my sister.
"Here, use this." Joy held out one of the ragged clumps of Becca's dress; my wife stared her down for a second, and I could see her file that away for later as she turned back to me.
"Can you stand?" she prompted me. "Here-"
I managed to get to my feet and let my wife lead me into the kitchen: “Here we are. Sit down, okay? Hold this on your nose. Good. Now, tilt your head back,” she prompted. I did as she said, staring up at the ceiling. "There. Now, I'm going to go kill your sister. You can stay here or come watch, but don't interfere-"
"Becca," I started (although it came out as "Begga" through my swollen nose). "I don't thing-"
"Honey," her voice was so cold I stopped dead. "This is not an argument, and this is not a discussion. I am going to go back in there and break every fucking bone in your loser junkie sister's body. If you don't want to see, you can stay in here. But do not try and stop me."
"Yes, dear," I mumbled, resigned. "Lead the way."
I had hoped Joy would have taken the hint and fucked off, but she was waiting for us in the living room, pacing with manic energy; an eager smile lit up her features as she saw us come back, rushing over and opening with: "So, you can just apologize and cut me that check-"
I sighed, knowing what was about to happen and looking over the fighters in the second before Becca attacked. My sister is a little bit older and considerably bigger than my wife, taller, wider and curvier, her big, natural tits and wide ass already spilling out of her too-small dress; at 5’8” she had half a foot on my petite, 5’2” wife.
Joy has large features - big green eyes, which could be quite pretty, but were currently bloodshot and with large bags under them, a long nose, and a pouty mouth, plastered with sloppily applied bright green lipstick. Becca's features are much more delicate with wide-set blue eyes, a little upturned nose and a small, delicate mouth; she had a little bit of rogue and eyeliner on, barely noticeable compared to my sister's makeup.
The fight started as Becca unleashed a surprise right hook to the jaw, her fist smashing into her larger opponent's face; Joy stumbled back and Becca followed her with a snarl, landing a straight left to my sister's stomach. Joy withered under the assault, eating another left to the breadbasket, then a right to the face, a left to the ribs, and a finishing overhand right; my wife knocked my sister down with authority, leaving Joy gasping on the floor.
Becca pressed her assault, standing over Joy, reaching down and grabbing my sister’s cheap dress, tearing it in half with a scream. Joy had neglected to wear a bra, her big tits sliding free almost into her armpits. Becca lifted her foot to stomp on one of them, but Joy rolled out of the way, staggering to her feet.
The women faced off and Becca launched another assault, aiming an opening left at my sister’s belly. This time Joy struck first, her foot lashing out between my wife’s legs. I winced as her kick landed up into Becca’s crotch, and the smaller fighter staggered backwards, covering herself with both hands.
Joy followed her with a sneer, unloading a big right-handed gutbuster. She braced her left hand on Becca’s shoulder, straightening my wife out, then slammed a right into her face. My sister dropped my wife, leaving Becca stunned on the floor; I could see her half-open eyes glazed over from where I was sitting.
“You’re dead, bitch!” Joy screamed down at her. “I’m going to break you in half and shit on what’s left!” She rolled Becca onto her back, then sat down on her stomach, drawing her right hand back for a power punch. Becca came around just in time, reaching up and latching onto her opponent’s big tits and squeezing.
This stopped Joy cold, her arm still cocked back, an almost comical look of shock on her face as her sister in law started clawing her tits. Becca leaned up, getting as much power as she could into the hold; Joy fell off her to the left, howling, frantically slapping at her tormentor’s arms. Becca smoothly switched positions, climbing on top of her larger opponent, bearing down as hard as she could, a murderous glint in her eyes as she tormented the bigger fighter’s tits.
Joy returned the hold, reaching up and squeezing my wife’s breasts; Becca definitely had the upper hand here as Joy seemed to be having trouble getting her hands securely locked on her opponent’s smaller tits, along with Becca’s strapless bra providing some protection. Still, my wife changed targets, releasing Joy’s reddening boobs and instead locking her hands around my sister’s neck.
It looked like this was going to be a short fight; Joy gasped helplessly, her limbs flailing, her eyes bugging out as she choked. I had no idea where Becca had learned to do this, but she bore down expertly, her thumbs pressed into her opponent’s windpipe.
With one massive convulsion Joy threw my wife off her, rolling over and rubbing her neck, drooling on the floor as she gasped and hacked. Becca got to her feet quickly, charging her opponent and lifting a punt into her stomach; Joy flopped over on her back, whatever air she’d managed to take in driven right back out of her.
Becca sat down on Joy’s stomach and went to re-apply her effective chokehold, but Joy threw her off again, straight back this time; the back of Becca’s head smacked into the wood floor, leaving her stunned long enough for her opponent to start getting up. Both women stood and faced off. Becca was getting sweaty, her breathing ragged, but Joy looked much worse, her boobs and neck turning red where they’d been attacked.
“You’re fucking dead, you little bitch!” Joy screeched, her face a wild mask of hate. She charged, and although Becca tried to step out of the way, my sister got her with a solid hit, her forearm smashing into Becca’s jaw, dropping my wife to the floor. With an angry snarl Joy lifted her foot and stomped on her opponent’s face, smashing her heel into Becca’s mouth. Joy had at least lost her shoes in the scuffle, but this still looked like it hurt pretty badly. My wife rolled over with a moan, rubbing her face. Before she could get up Joy grabbed her hair, yanking her to her feet, getting behind her.
Becca tried to elbow her larger opponent, but she couldn’t see well enough, hitting air; Joy used just her left hand buried in Becca’s hair to hold her steady, then lined up a punch into my wife’s lower back; I didn’t realize what she was aiming for until Joy’s fist slammed into Becca’s kidney, my wife howling in agony at the hit, dropping to her knees. Joy lined up another hit, this one to the back of the head, laying Becca out flat on her chest, mewling in pain.
“Fucking bitch,” Joy huffed as she went for the kill, sitting down on my wife’s back. She grabbed Becca’s long hair again, pulling my wife’s head up, then slammed her face back down against the floor. She pulled Becca’s hair up again, and the smaller woman desperately braced her elbows against the floor, holding herself up; her nose was definitely going now, blood running into her mouth as she struggled against my sister.
Despite Joy’s greater strength, she couldn’t give Becca another slam; she had to be happy with forcing my wife’s head down slowly, then rubbing her face against the floor. When Joy got tired of this, she scooted down a bit, quickly unhooking my wife’s bra and whipping it off, then reached down to cup Becca’s tits.
My wife screamed in surprise, trying to buck Joy off, but the bigger woman was firmly in control now, rising up off Becca just long enough to roll her over, then sitting back down on her tummy. Joy slapped Becca viciously, turning my wife’s cheeks red; Becca lay there stunned as Joy latched on to her chest.
"You call these tits?!" Joy bellowed, squeezing my wife's boobs. I could see my sister's fingers digging into Becca's B-cups as she groaned, trying and failing to pull her opponent's hands away from her chest.
"Get her back, babe!" I yelled hopefully. I could see my wife rallying, reaching up and grabbing Joy's bare tits in return, squeezing with both hands. Despite having lost her bra and being on the bottom, my wife again started getting the better of this; tears ran out of Becca’s eyes, but as she screamed a banshee wail, I could see her fingers digging deep into Joy’s tits.
My sister had enough of this quickly and stood up, her tits bruising under her opponent’s assault; Becca got up as well, looking winded but still in the fight, and the two women faced off silently.
Becca’s height disadvantage meant her opponent had longer reach, and my wife tried to come in close, ducking under Joy’s hands; the first two times she was backed off with a slap to the face and a barely-dodged punch at her chest, but the third time was the charm and she came in low, grabbing at Joy’s right leg.
Unfortunately my sister had time to fade back, then shot a knee strike at her opponent; Joy’s kneecap smashed into Becca’s forehead, and my wife stumbled backwards with a moan, covering the impact spot. Joy followed, aiming a punch at my wife.
I didn’t quite realize at the time what was happening, but looking back Joy was targeting Becca’s liver; unfortunately, her hit landed perfectly, and Becca dropped to the floor, screaming in agony, then curled up into a sobbing ball, her body shaking.
“Yeah, you fucking like that?” Joy hollered. “You’re going to be pissing blood for a week, dumb bitch!” She started kicking my wife in the back, cackling as her foot slammed into her helpless opponent over and over again. “Should’ve just given me the fucking money, dumbass!”
Joy stripped off Becca’s underwear, leaving my wife completely naked, and stuffed them into Becca’s mouth; my wife seemed to be feeling too much pain to be humiliated, messily crying through her underwear.
Joy spat on my wife, then turned and came over to me with a horrible smile on her face.
“So, bro, you ready to write that check now?”
“I’ll get the checkbook,” I sighed.
“Gonna have to add a few zeroes,” Joy told me. “For my trouble.”
“Fine, fine…”
But before I could leave the room, my sister and I turned to Becca, who was stumbling to her feet, spitting her underwear out; she put her fists up, her eyes huge and filled with manic light peering out over the tops of her hands. She hadn’t quite managed to stop crying, little sobs slipping out of her mouth.
“Are you fucking kidding?” Joy screamed at her. “You really want me to fucking kill you, girl?” Joy put her own fists up and closed on her. My sister went for a knockout punch, a massive overhand right; Becca was considerably slowed from the beating she’d taken, but still had time to duck to the side, coming in and kicking Joy between the legs.
My sister howled as my wife’s foot smashed into her crotch, stumbling backwards; Becca followed, grabbing two handfuls of Joy’s tangled blonde hair, pulling her opponent’s head down while lifting her knee.
I wanted to cheer as Becca’s kneecap smashed into Joy’s face; my sister tried to back up again, but Becca kept her where she was with her hair grip, a smear of her opponent’s blood on my wife’s kneecap. Becca went to repeat her move, but Joy intercepted my wife’s knee, catching it with her hands; Joy pulled on my wife’s leg, and Becca went down with a scream, smacking her head on the hardwood floor again for good measure.
Joy pounced, rolling Becca over, sitting down on her back and rabbit punching her in the back of the head. Becca jolted like she’d been shocked and lay scarily still; that was as much as I could take, and I ran over, shoving Joy off my wife as I knelt down to check on Becca, rolling her over as gently as I could.
“Becca!” I yelled, shaking her shoulders, almost crying with relief as my wife’s eyes fluttered open. I quickly realized the lights were on but nobody was home; she croaked a low moan but otherwise didn’t move.
“Hey!” Joy yelled, grabbing me from behind. “You pushed me!”
“Get off!” I yelled as she pulled me up to my feet. “You fucked up Becca!”
“She started it!” Joy bellowed in my ear, locking me into a strong full nelson. “That’s another zero!”
“Fine!” I gasped as she worked the hold. “Let go! You won!”
Joy released me with a shove, and I tripped over my wife, barely managing to save myself from going down. I wanted to check on her again, relieved beyond words to see she was sitting up and looking around, but the angry sneer of triumph on Joy’s face was enough for me to know she wouldn’t tolerate any more delays.
With a sigh I went into the office where the checkbook was kept, Joy following me and looking around curiously. It was a long, narrow space, formerly half of a porch we’d turned into an interior room, although it still got cold as hell in wintertime. I went to my desk, along the outer wall, and slid the drawer open.
“So, bro,” Joy started as she came up to me. “How many zeroes can you fit on that?”
“As many as you want, Joy,” I sighed in defeat, opening the checkbook and picking up a pen. I started filling the check out quickly, eager to get Joy out of here so I could check on my wife. My sister tapped her foot as I wrote in her name, the date, and signed it, then stopped over the amount.
“So-” I turned to my sister, then stopped as over Joy’s shoulder I saw a blur of movement; my mouth dropped as my wife charged into the room with a berserk scream. Joy just had time for her eyes to go wide before Becca, who had gotten a good thirty foot run-up, slammed into her with enough force to take both women down to the floor, my sister shrieking in surprise as she went down chest-first with my wife behind her.
Becca landed on top of the blonde, screaming wordlessly as she grabbed Joy's hair and started slamming her opponent's face into the floor. This room had carpeting, but underneath it was the old, hard wood of the deck, and Joy’s head produced a low thud with each slam; after three Becca rolled Joy over, locking her hands around my sister’s neck. I could see Becca’s arms shaking with anger and effort as she choked the shit out of Joy, who spasmed under her, wildly flailing her limbs and gagging.
"Go to sleep, bitch!" Becca screamed, her eyes bugging out of her skull with rage. "I'll fucking kill you! Don’t fight back!”
But of course she did; Joy bucked Becca off, and the women slowly got up. They were both a mess; Joy’s neck and chest were an angry red, her nose crusted with dried blood, while Becca stood hunched over, her breathing ragged gasping, her face locked in a wild look of uncontrolled rage, her elegant updo long ago undone, her long hair plastered to her face, shoulders and back with sweat.
I considered trying to seperate the women, as this had gotten wildly out of hand, but the truth is I was scared; an hour ago Becca and I had been prepping hors d'oeuvres for our Christmas party, and I was shocked by the wild violence that had been unleashed right in front of me. I leaned back against the desk, hoping it would just be over soon, and both women would still be alive when it was.
Joy made use of her reach advantage, coming in high; Becca tried to go under her arms, but my sister managed to get her hands around my wife’s neck, and now the tables had turned as Joy was the one squeezing the life out of her opponent. Joy had her thumbs pressed against Becca’s windpipe, and my wife was in trouble right away, frantically but uselessly clawing at Joy’s arms, the bigger blonde laughing cruelly.
Her laughter was cut short as Becca’s foot slammed up into her crotch. Joy bit down the pain, trying to ride it out and keep the choke going; Becca kicked her again, and that was enough to drop Joy to the floor, rubbing her panties where she’d been hit.
Becca came around behind Joy and went for her own rabbit punch; she wasn’t as strong as Joy and I don’t think she got the exact right spot, but it still seemed pretty effective as Joy pitched forward to land on her chest with a moan. Becca reached down and pulled Joy’s thong bottoms off, leaving both women naked; instead of stuffing them in her opponent’s mouth like Joy had, my wife wrapped them around Joy’s neck and pulled.
Joy’s upper body came up off the floor as she pawed at her neck, trying to get a finger between the material and her windpipe; Becca grimly held on, bracing her knee in Joy’s back, her arms shaking as she poured as much power as she could into the choke.
I thought this was it, but my heart sank as Joy freed herself, bucking wildly and throwing my wife off; Becca landed awkwardly on her arm, rolling over with a moan. Still, Joy was in worse shape, rubbing her neck and gasping as she tried to breathe. She was still laying on the floor as Becca got up and stalked over, my wife aiming an elbow drop at her opponent’s head.
Joy unfortunately had enough fight left in her to see this coming and roll away, leaving Becca to scream as her elbow smashed into the hard wood floor. Both women were down for a minute, Joy sucking down air, Becca moaning and rubbing her elbow.
My sister started getting up first; it looked to me like Becca had been riding an adrenaline high she was now crashing off of, her limbs shaking as she got to her knees. She made it to her feet before Joy attacked, but she was facing the wrong way, my sister coming up behind her.
“Becca, look out!” I yelled, knowing it was already too late. Joy aimed a punch at Becca’s kidney; my wife at least had started turning, and took the hit in her side, stumbling to the left from the impact. Joy followed up, smashing a left hook into Becca’s jaw, sending spit flying and dropping my wife to the floor.
Joy went around to Becca’s head, planting one foot on my wife’s neck and pressing down, sneering at my wife. Becca put her hands on Joy’s foot, trying to push it off, but I could see this failing, my wife’s legs kicking as Joy pressed down, a mean look of triumph on my sister’s face as she ground her foot against Becca’s windpipe.
Becca began bucking frantically against the floor, but her strength had run out; she couldn’t move Joy’s foot or buck the bigger woman off. I sat down in my office chair with a defeated sigh, putting my head in my hands, unable to watch my wife get finished off by her cruel sister in law. I fought back tears, wondering what we were going to do; Becca’s body would heal up from the beating she was taking, but was she going to have to go back to her job she’d just quit if Joy cleaned us out?
My sister’s bark of “Kiss my foot, little bitch!” snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Joy grinding her foot back and forth as Becca’s body twitched. “Or I’ll finish the job! Understand?” Joy lifted her foot, holding it just over my wife’s face.
Becca took a deep breath, leaned up, and bit Joy, my sister shrieking to wake the dead as Becca’s teeth broke the skin. Joy hopped backwards, screaming and holding her foot, as Becca slowly got up, blood on her lips, each breath a huge, sucking gasp.
Becca ran at my sister, putting all of her energy into a running elbow strike to the stomach; Joy’s howling was cut off as she deflated like a balloon, collapsing to her knees; before she could fall on her chest Becca kicked her in the face, laying the blonde out on her back.
Becca sat down on Joy, quickly trapping my sister’s hands against the floor; Becca began choking Joy, leaning down, her eyes blazing with fury, a wordless scream bursting from her lips. Joy pulled her hands free and started hammering on Becca’s sides; my wife ignored the pain, roaring with effort as she worked the choke, Joy’s face turning red. She switched targets, grabbing my wife’s tits, squeezing and crushing them between her fingers; Becca’s boobs turned a bright angry red red under the assault as my sister switched to tearing at her tits, but Becca bore down, crying and screaming at the same time.
Joy’s hands became weak, then fell to the floor; her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth hanging open, her breathing going from rasping, choking gasps to a low rattle, her face almost purple.
"You dumb fucking asshole!" Becca was screaming at Joy, a howl of pure rage. "You dumb fucking bitch! I could fucking kill you!" I knew I should do something; Joy looked like she was a second away from dying. I knew I should walk up behind my wife and pull her arms back, but my body refused to move; in that moment I was so scared of the shrieking demon my wife had become that I would have done anything to avoid her turning that terrible wrath on me, apparently even if that meant watching her murder my sister in front of me.
In the end it didn’t come to that; I could see Becca get a hold of herself, easing off the pressure, although she didn’t remove her hands; I saw her crashing off another adrenaline high, her arms shaking as she sat back, her eyes wide, looking like she was about to start sobbing.
“Becca,” I came up behind her, gently resting my hands on her shoulders. “You won.”
“Yeah,” she gulped. “Yeah.”
I helped her up, pulling her into a hug; she buried her head in my chest and the waterworks started with a loud wail. I held her as she cried, not sure where to put my arms on her aching body, settling for one around her torso and the other playing with her hair, which she always found calming.
Becca had a good cry; my shirt soaked up her tears as I held her and made comforting noises. By the time she was done she’d calmed down a bit and stopped shaking. I led her over to my office chair and helped her sit, my arm over her shoulders, as she caught her breath.
“Well,” Becca sniffled, looking at where Joy still lay on the floor, her chest rising and falling gently, “what are we going to do with her?”
“Uh,” I sighed. “Well, you destroyed her dress, and I guess it’s too cold to just throw her outside…”
“I got it,” Becca announced, rising unsteadily and walking over to Joy, sitting on her and landing a thunderous slap, turning my beaten sister’s head.
“What the fuck!” Joy rasped as she came around. She stared up at Becca in fear, flinching pathetically as my wife drew back for another slap.
“You had enough!” Becca barked, a demand, not a question.
“Yes!” Joy sniveled. “I’m sorry!”
“You’re sorry,” Becca repeated disbelievingly. “You came into my house-”
“I’m sorry!” Joy wailed over her. “Please! I’ll do anything you want!”
“What?” Becca tilted her head, her hand still held high.
“Anything,” Joy tried desperately. “I’ll show you how sorry I am. I’ll eat you out-”
Becca slapped Joy's offer to lick her pussy right out of my sister's mouth: "You think I'd want anything to do with you, you disgusting fucking pig? No, here's what's going to happen. You're going to get your ass out of my house, and if you ever darken my door again-"
"I won't!" Joy wailed, her apology running into a terrified jumble of words.
“Shut up!” Becca screamed over her. “Fucking shut your mouth!” Becca punctuated her scream with another slap, spit flying out of Joy’s mouth. Becca leaned down until her nose was touching Joy’s, my wife’s eyes boring into her beaten opponent’s. “I ever see you again,” Becca snarled, “and it’s going to be the last time. I’ve got a rose garden out back where they will never find you. You understand?”
Joy nodded, too scared to speak. Becca held her gaze for a moment, driving the point home, before climbing off Joy with a disgusted grunt.
“Hey, babe,” Becca started as she walked back over to where I stood, dumbfounded. “I was thinking, I want to get some blackmail material.”
“What?”
“Just to make sure she never bothers us again. Okay? You can go upstairs if it’s going to make you uncomfortable-”
“No, it’s fine. I want to do something. I already feel bad I just watched you two fight-”
“Sshhh,” Becca waved my apology away. “You can stay, but don’t interfere, and make sure you don’t appear on camera. In fact, you can film the whole thing. Right?”
“Right,” I nodded, my mind racing wondering what Becca had in mind. She tossed me her phone and I started recording (keeping Becca’s head out of the frame) as my naked wife walked over to where my sister lay, now up on her elbows, a fake, nervous smile plastered across her face.
“Becca-” she started in an integrating whine.
“Shut up,” my wife told her calmly. “You’re going to do exactly what I say. Understand?”
“Of course, Becca,” Joy nodded nervously. “Of course-”
“Start touching yourself.”
“O-okay,” Joy stammered, gingerly cupping her beaten tits. “Like this?”
“Whatever works for you,” Becca sighed in annoyance. “Hurry up, we’ve got a Christmas party in - “ Becca checked the antique clock hanging on the wall - “less than two hours! Let’s go!”
Joy did her best, trying to get herself warmed up as she played with her boobs, Becca frowning down at her in annoyance; her nipples began getting hard, slowly, and she was clearly having trouble getting going - I guess not surprising considering the massive beating she’d just taken.
“What’s the problem?” Becca barked.
“I’m sorry,” Joy sniveled. “I need a lot of breast play-”
That was something I’d never needed to know, and Becca didn’t look any happier about it either.
“For fuck’s sake,” my wife sighed. “Joy, you are useless.” She turned to me:: “Honey, go get that thing. The you know what. And some lube.”
I knew exactly what she meant; the thing was a remote-controlled vibrator we’d played around with a little bit. Ultimately Becca didn’t like it very much, finding the stimulation too weak on the lowest setting, and too strong on anything else, but it wasn’t like we could return it, and it was in a shoebox in the bottom of the bedroom closet.
With the box under my arm and a bottle of Becca’s favorite strawberry lube I walked back into the room, staying out of sight of the camera, which Becca had propped up on my desk; Joy was still on the floor, struggling to get herself going.
“Thanks,” Becca told me as she grabbed the box and lube, taking the controller out of the box, then tossing everything else down to Joy. My sister opened the box, regarding the vibrator with a lack of surprise; it was shaped like a purple egg with a little clit stimulator at one end, and Joy lubed it up quickly, gasping as she slipped it in, pausing to make sure the attachment was in place against her clit.
Becca turned it on the low setting; it was quiet enough that I couldn’t hear it turning on, the only evidence of its activation Joy’s high moan as she lay back on the floor. Becca was in a hurry, apparently under the delusion that she’d still be hosting a Christmas party after the beating she’d taken, and started turning it up right away, Joy’s voice dropping as I could now hear the toy vibrating inside of her.
“You know, Joy, if you need money, you should have just done this,” Becca taunted her. “I’m sure there’s some incel desperate enough to pay you to watch this.”
Joy couldn’t respond, her legs kicking wildly, her hands hammering the floor. Becca turned the power up to one setting below maximum, her face a mask of disgust as Joy started pathetically squirming, moaning and bucking her hips lewdly up in the air.
“We’re going to have to burn this thing,” Becca stage whispered to me. “I don’t think we’ll ever get the stink off now.” I didn’t have anything to say to that, just hoping my wife wasn’t noticing how hard I was getting watching this lewd display. Becca went over to Joy, kicking her hard in the ribs; this barely seemed to slow my sister down.
“Let’s go!” Becca barked, unleashing another kick. “Finish, you piece of shit!” My wife dialed the controls up to max and threw the controller away, leaving Joy writhing helplessly in the gip of pleasure, her cries mixing with the strong buzzing emanating from her crotch.
Joy came, her body spasming, a long, low wail ripping from her lips; Becca stood there with her arms crossed staring down at her as Joy came down, until she lay flat on the floor, mewling and twitching.
Becca walked over to the desk and shut the camera off, then walked back over to Joy: “Well, Joy, it’s been wonderful seeing you, but it’s time for you to leave.” She motioned me over: “Help me with this, would you, honey?”
Joy couldn’t stand, but I pulled her to her feet, looping one limp arm over my shoulders; Becca left, coming back dressed in a formless sweatshirt, sweatpants and shoes, holding one of my old coats I wore while gardening, a dirty, ripped, thick trenchcoat, wrapping Joy up in it, the vibrator still buzzing away. I carried my beaten sister out to the car, and we drove her back to her place, an apartment that smelled like burnt plastic; we laid Joy out on her couch, where she lay looking almost peaceful, the muscles in her face occasionally twitching as the vibrator just kept working away.
“You can keep the coat,” Becca told her. “But remember what’s going to happen if we see you again.” My wife took a deep breath, and we left my sister there, beaten, bruised, and with the vibrator still buzzing away, wrapped up in a shitty old coat in her shitty apartment.
As we left, Becca couldn’t help herself; over her shoulder she called out “Oh, and Joy - Merry Christmas!”
