Hierarchy of Needs
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 Daisying 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.
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.
“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?”
“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.”
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.”
“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.
“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.
“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,” 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.”
“Let’s do this.”