Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (Complete)
Posted: Wed Dec 14, 2022 10:58 pm
Contents:
Part 1 (below)
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21 (End)
*****
Author's Note: This story is part of the "Dare Me" universe and is set after chapter 11. While The Lost Swimsuit Saga can be read on its own, you may want to read the main story first to better understand the characters and backstory.
~ND
*****
Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (Part 1)
The day before our first ever Jenkins family vacation, I was a bundle of nervous energy. For my sister and I, there were so many new things to experience. We had never been on an airplane before. We had never been to the beach or even seen the ocean. We would be surrounded by new foods, new people, and new sights and sounds. It could hardly believe it was really happening.
Truthfully, it almost didn't happen. Our plans were originally much more extravagant due to an unexpected windfall of cash, a severance package mom had received from work. But through a series of unfortunate mishaps, our original plans had to be pared down significantly. Still, I was determined to make the most of this new experience.
The night before our flight, my sister couldn't sleep and came into my room. It was so late that on a normal night it would have woken me up. But I was too excited and couldn't sleep either. So, I sat up and we talked about the upcoming vacation. I was not surprised when she changed the subject to her dare.
To call my sister a daredevil was an understatement. She had been coming to me asking for, and performing, risky dares for some time now. And no matter how much I upped the stakes, she kept coming back for more. It was practically a hobby for her by now. No, it was something more than that. It was like an unfillable need deep inside her.
I knew because I had seen it manifesting firsthand. I had hoped it was just a phase that she would grow out of as she matured. But if anything, the onset of puberty had only amplified her urges. I had tried to break the cycle, make her stop cold turkey. But when that backfired, I stopped fighting it and accepted my role as her Daremaster.
Don't get me wrong. It's not like I didn't enjoy every second of it. Even at her young age, Lucy was already a world-class specimen who turned heads wherever she went. Who wouldn't enjoy dreaming up creative ways to separate a burgeoning blonde bombshell from her clothes?
I had come to accept that her affliction could manifest at the most inconvenient times. I had to tolerate being woken up in the middle of the night on occasion, for example. I had done some things to mitigate her most bothersome tendencies. But I had yet to break her of one annoying habit: anxiety over uncertainty.
When she was in the middle of a dare and knew I was planning something, she just had to know about it. The uncertainty drove her crazy and she would go to great lengths to find out what it was. So, that night when she asked, "can you at least give me a hint?", I rolled my eyes.
I told her to go and try to get some sleep. With a huff, she turned to leave, but then paused and asked another question.
"Could I at least, um, you know?" she requested with her hands clasped sweetly in front of her, “it would really help me sleep."
At this point you may be wondering why my sister was asking me for permission to masturbate. It's not like I would have known or been able to stop her if she just went off and did it. So, how did I become the gatekeeper over something so personal and intimate?
It's hard to explain, but long story short, that too had become part of her dares. I had somehow learned that without gratification, the affects her daring experiences could be amplified. Delaying her sexual release until the end was the most reliable and long-lasting way to satiate that unfillable need deep inside her. The easiest way to deny her that pleasure was to simply make it part of the dare itself.
Since she was technically in the middle of a dare right now, she was not allowed to touch herself down there, no matter how badly she needed it. And I didn't feel any pity for her at the moment. It's not like I forced her into this one. She always picked the most inopportune times to request it. I would have been completely happy to go off on our vacation without having to juggle this responsibility. But she just had to hijack the whole thing with those two little words: dare me.
"You know the answer to that, Goosey," I replied with another eye roll, using my nickname for her which she hated. Then I added a warning, "now go to bed. I swear, if you don't let me sleep, you will regret it."
She looked disappointed but left after that. I rolled over and tried to calm down and sleep. But my brain was too engaged and hyperactive. So, I tried to dream up some ways I might be able to embarrass her on our trip. The obvious low hanging fruit would be our time at the beach. I'm sure she was looking forward to lounging around in her new swimsuit. Even though she still had a lot of growing to do, the proportions of her young body were already perfect. She was proud of how quickly she had outgrown her training bras and moved on to real ones, for example. And she spent so much time jogging, her legs and bottom were sculpted into something that would make a supermodel jealous.
Even with an intimate front row seat to her spectacular and rapid physical development, it never ceased to amaze me. Needless to say, after watching her perform so many naked dares, I knew her body almost as intimately as she knew it herself. I had seen her naked so many times by now, she was no longer shy around me. It's possible she even engaged in more risky behavior knowing I was behind it. Maybe she felt safer somehow and trusted me, a responsibility I did not take lightly.
Although nascent sexuality was simultaneously blooming all over her body, there was one area in which she still trailed behind. I very recently learned that she had yet to grow pubic hair of any kind. Perhaps somehow, I could find a way to use that knowledge to embarrass her on the trip. Smiling at that idea, my mind started to wind down and my eyelids got heavy. I was just about to drift off when my impending slumber was disrupted once again.
"Mikey?"
"WHAT!" I growled back at the disturbance in the doorway. She was on thin ice.
"Sorry, I just needed to check my outfits," was her soft reply, "I don't know how many pajamas I packed. How many will I need to bring?"
To save money, we were in the same suitcase which happened to be in my room. It was a large, brand-new suitcase. Since we were only going to be gone a few days, there was enough space for us both to pack together. Although, she took up three quarters of the space.
With a sigh I reluctantly turned on my nightstand lamp so she could see what she was doing. I instructed her to make it quick and turn the lamp off when she finished. Then I turned my back and pulled up the covers. I heard her tiptoe over and unzip the case. The quiet rustling made a decent calming effect, kind of like white noise, and my tense muscles started to ease again.
But just as sleep started to descend, she said a little too loudly, "Do I need to bring more skirts? Or should I just stick to shorts? What about dress shoes?". That was the last straw. I was about to get up and throw her out of my room when my eyes snapped open, and I realized what was really happening. She wasn’t asking for trip advice. She was probing me about her dare, trying to figure it out so she could be prepared. Now I was really angry!
I exploded from my bed and literally roared at her. "You don't need to bring any more shoes!! You don't need more pajamas or shorts or anything!"
She backed up as I loomed over and began rifling through the open suitcase. I saw she had packed far too many things. I counted three pairs of pajamas. Three! And she wanted to bring more?! But more importantly, she was defying me. I started pulling whole, carefully folded outfits out of the suitcase and dumping them on the floor as I spoke.
"You just had to try and control it, didn't you?" I did not expect or wait for an answer. She just cowered
I kept going until I had extracted every single outfit she had packed; every article. Even her underwear was now piled up in a mound on my floor. You may think I was being a bit harsh, but you don't know my sister. Unless I sent a clear message who was in charge, she would continue to walk all over me, and I would have no peace for the rest of the trip. We were going on a freaking beach vacation, and she was worried about dress shoes?!
"I warned you, but you just couldn’t let me sleep. Now you're going to regret it. Tomorrow you will wear your new dress. When we get to the rental and start unpacking, you'll tell mom you accidentally forgot to pack your clothes, but you don't care because you can just wear your swimsuit the whole time. Now, if you don't go to bed and let me sleep, I may not even let you bring your dress."
"You wouldn't-" she started to argue, but my withering glare made her stop short.
"Just try me" I challenged, slamming the suitcase closed and stomping back to bed. The last thing I saw before I switched the lamp off was Lucy standing there in shock with her eyes fluttering.
Part 1 (below)
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21 (End)
*****
Author's Note: This story is part of the "Dare Me" universe and is set after chapter 11. While The Lost Swimsuit Saga can be read on its own, you may want to read the main story first to better understand the characters and backstory.
~ND
*****
Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (Part 1)
The day before our first ever Jenkins family vacation, I was a bundle of nervous energy. For my sister and I, there were so many new things to experience. We had never been on an airplane before. We had never been to the beach or even seen the ocean. We would be surrounded by new foods, new people, and new sights and sounds. It could hardly believe it was really happening.
Truthfully, it almost didn't happen. Our plans were originally much more extravagant due to an unexpected windfall of cash, a severance package mom had received from work. But through a series of unfortunate mishaps, our original plans had to be pared down significantly. Still, I was determined to make the most of this new experience.
The night before our flight, my sister couldn't sleep and came into my room. It was so late that on a normal night it would have woken me up. But I was too excited and couldn't sleep either. So, I sat up and we talked about the upcoming vacation. I was not surprised when she changed the subject to her dare.
To call my sister a daredevil was an understatement. She had been coming to me asking for, and performing, risky dares for some time now. And no matter how much I upped the stakes, she kept coming back for more. It was practically a hobby for her by now. No, it was something more than that. It was like an unfillable need deep inside her.
I knew because I had seen it manifesting firsthand. I had hoped it was just a phase that she would grow out of as she matured. But if anything, the onset of puberty had only amplified her urges. I had tried to break the cycle, make her stop cold turkey. But when that backfired, I stopped fighting it and accepted my role as her Daremaster.
Don't get me wrong. It's not like I didn't enjoy every second of it. Even at her young age, Lucy was already a world-class specimen who turned heads wherever she went. Who wouldn't enjoy dreaming up creative ways to separate a burgeoning blonde bombshell from her clothes?
I had come to accept that her affliction could manifest at the most inconvenient times. I had to tolerate being woken up in the middle of the night on occasion, for example. I had done some things to mitigate her most bothersome tendencies. But I had yet to break her of one annoying habit: anxiety over uncertainty.
When she was in the middle of a dare and knew I was planning something, she just had to know about it. The uncertainty drove her crazy and she would go to great lengths to find out what it was. So, that night when she asked, "can you at least give me a hint?", I rolled my eyes.
I told her to go and try to get some sleep. With a huff, she turned to leave, but then paused and asked another question.
"Could I at least, um, you know?" she requested with her hands clasped sweetly in front of her, “it would really help me sleep."
At this point you may be wondering why my sister was asking me for permission to masturbate. It's not like I would have known or been able to stop her if she just went off and did it. So, how did I become the gatekeeper over something so personal and intimate?
It's hard to explain, but long story short, that too had become part of her dares. I had somehow learned that without gratification, the affects her daring experiences could be amplified. Delaying her sexual release until the end was the most reliable and long-lasting way to satiate that unfillable need deep inside her. The easiest way to deny her that pleasure was to simply make it part of the dare itself.
Since she was technically in the middle of a dare right now, she was not allowed to touch herself down there, no matter how badly she needed it. And I didn't feel any pity for her at the moment. It's not like I forced her into this one. She always picked the most inopportune times to request it. I would have been completely happy to go off on our vacation without having to juggle this responsibility. But she just had to hijack the whole thing with those two little words: dare me.
"You know the answer to that, Goosey," I replied with another eye roll, using my nickname for her which she hated. Then I added a warning, "now go to bed. I swear, if you don't let me sleep, you will regret it."
She looked disappointed but left after that. I rolled over and tried to calm down and sleep. But my brain was too engaged and hyperactive. So, I tried to dream up some ways I might be able to embarrass her on our trip. The obvious low hanging fruit would be our time at the beach. I'm sure she was looking forward to lounging around in her new swimsuit. Even though she still had a lot of growing to do, the proportions of her young body were already perfect. She was proud of how quickly she had outgrown her training bras and moved on to real ones, for example. And she spent so much time jogging, her legs and bottom were sculpted into something that would make a supermodel jealous.
Even with an intimate front row seat to her spectacular and rapid physical development, it never ceased to amaze me. Needless to say, after watching her perform so many naked dares, I knew her body almost as intimately as she knew it herself. I had seen her naked so many times by now, she was no longer shy around me. It's possible she even engaged in more risky behavior knowing I was behind it. Maybe she felt safer somehow and trusted me, a responsibility I did not take lightly.
Although nascent sexuality was simultaneously blooming all over her body, there was one area in which she still trailed behind. I very recently learned that she had yet to grow pubic hair of any kind. Perhaps somehow, I could find a way to use that knowledge to embarrass her on the trip. Smiling at that idea, my mind started to wind down and my eyelids got heavy. I was just about to drift off when my impending slumber was disrupted once again.
"Mikey?"
"WHAT!" I growled back at the disturbance in the doorway. She was on thin ice.
"Sorry, I just needed to check my outfits," was her soft reply, "I don't know how many pajamas I packed. How many will I need to bring?"
To save money, we were in the same suitcase which happened to be in my room. It was a large, brand-new suitcase. Since we were only going to be gone a few days, there was enough space for us both to pack together. Although, she took up three quarters of the space.
With a sigh I reluctantly turned on my nightstand lamp so she could see what she was doing. I instructed her to make it quick and turn the lamp off when she finished. Then I turned my back and pulled up the covers. I heard her tiptoe over and unzip the case. The quiet rustling made a decent calming effect, kind of like white noise, and my tense muscles started to ease again.
But just as sleep started to descend, she said a little too loudly, "Do I need to bring more skirts? Or should I just stick to shorts? What about dress shoes?". That was the last straw. I was about to get up and throw her out of my room when my eyes snapped open, and I realized what was really happening. She wasn’t asking for trip advice. She was probing me about her dare, trying to figure it out so she could be prepared. Now I was really angry!
I exploded from my bed and literally roared at her. "You don't need to bring any more shoes!! You don't need more pajamas or shorts or anything!"
She backed up as I loomed over and began rifling through the open suitcase. I saw she had packed far too many things. I counted three pairs of pajamas. Three! And she wanted to bring more?! But more importantly, she was defying me. I started pulling whole, carefully folded outfits out of the suitcase and dumping them on the floor as I spoke.
"You just had to try and control it, didn't you?" I did not expect or wait for an answer. She just cowered
I kept going until I had extracted every single outfit she had packed; every article. Even her underwear was now piled up in a mound on my floor. You may think I was being a bit harsh, but you don't know my sister. Unless I sent a clear message who was in charge, she would continue to walk all over me, and I would have no peace for the rest of the trip. We were going on a freaking beach vacation, and she was worried about dress shoes?!
"I warned you, but you just couldn’t let me sleep. Now you're going to regret it. Tomorrow you will wear your new dress. When we get to the rental and start unpacking, you'll tell mom you accidentally forgot to pack your clothes, but you don't care because you can just wear your swimsuit the whole time. Now, if you don't go to bed and let me sleep, I may not even let you bring your dress."
"You wouldn't-" she started to argue, but my withering glare made her stop short.
"Just try me" I challenged, slamming the suitcase closed and stomping back to bed. The last thing I saw before I switched the lamp off was Lucy standing there in shock with her eyes fluttering.