When All Resistance Is Gone - Sex Stories

When All Resistance Is Gone

... tad over-sharply out of habit.

She continued to stare at me for a moment, keeping it together. Then, her lip trembled and the tears started to fall. Up until that moment, I'd never seen Kat cry. Like, I mean, never. She just didn't. I presumed she probably did. Just never in front of me. Now, tears were streaming down her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead a massive sob came out. Followed by a gut-wrenching moan. She sank to the floor. I didn't know what to do. I stood, mouth open, watching her melt down on the kitchen floor.

Every ounce of animosity I'd ever felt towards her drained out of me in that split second.

Then, I took a step towards her. Her knees had buckled, and her skirt had ridden up, legs akimbo before me. My eyes were incongruously drawn to her crotch and the flash of white panties beneath her tiny black skirt. I shook away the image and went down on my hunkers beside her.

As gently as I could, I said.

"What happened, Sis?"

"Where were you?" She spat venomously.

"What?" I was afraid now.

"I was trying to reach you." I remembered the WhatsApps.

"Eh, I had my phone on silent. Are you ok?" Ok, stupid question.

"No, you moron, I'm not." I took that, because, basically, I deserved it.

I decided to try to sound empathetic.

"Please, Sis, you're freaking me out, what happened?"

"I was attacked. Ok?"

"Attacked?" This couldn't be happening. Parents were barely out of the country, and I'd let my sister get ...

... attacked and then ignored her pleas for help.

"I spend the morning in the emergency room."

I realized I was experiencing a new feeling in relation to my sister: guilt.

"Oh, shit, Kat. I'm so sorry. I should have checked. What happened?"

"I was mugged." She began to ball again. My heart sank and I felt like a complete shit.

I moved around her and went to hoosh her up and towards the sofa.

"Ow! Fuck off." She snapped. I found myself backing off rather than slinging insults.

"Tell me what to do, sis. Have you called the cops?"

"Yes. They took a report but didn't hold out much hope."

"Are you hurt?"

"Eh, Sherlock ..."

The look on my face must have been priceless because she laughed and seem to thaw slightly.

"I'm ok. Bruises and sprains. Broken nose. Mostly just scared."

"Oh, Kat. I'm really sorry."

"You said that."

"Here, let me get you to the sofa."

This time, she let me help her onto her feet and I half carried her to the sofa in the corner of the kitchen. I gently laid her down.

"Can I get you anything?"

"What? Like chicken soup, idiot."

'Anything, sis. Something to eat? Drink? I could make you a salad."

She laughed again.

"I'm ok. Just sore and scared."

"What happened?"

She began sobbing again and I sat beside her, trying to decide if I should hold her hand or something. Maybe put an arm around her.

"I found some rotten vegetables in the larder. That skanky smell in the kitchen? You probably didn't notice. It ...