"One Year at a Time"
by
Everybody stared at the two gorgeous blonde women strolling casually
along the beach. Not because they were holding hands. It's not that
unusual for women to hold hands when they're walking together,
especially when they're friends, or -- like these two -- sisters. Not
because they were beautiful. Though they were beautiful -- both in
their early twenties, skin so tight and smooth, taught bellies, breasts
high and firm, with just a hint of a jiggle as they walked. Not even
because they were rich and famous. Though they were rich -- and,
therefore, at least just a little bit famous.
No, it was because they were twins. Identical, in every feature.
Their hair, their eyes, the shapes of their bodies. They even walked
in unison -- left foot, a bit of a pause, right foot, a tilt of the
hips. Dressed in identical thongs -- bottoms only, as this was a
tops-optional beach on the Mediterranean -- just little wisps of
shimmering, sky blue cloth. They presented such a perfect double image
that some people who wore glasses, took them off and checked, to make
sure nothing was out of alignment.
Yet there was something... Was the one twin's thong just a little bit
tighter? Outlining the lips of her barely-hidden pussy just a little
more than her sister's? Her gaze, a little more straight-ahead and
unfocused? -- while her sister's attention wandered from the warm
ocean, to the sand, to the people ahead, to the children playing, to
her twin's face, then out to the horizon.
With twins, they say, there is always a dominant one -- the leader,
that the other twin goes along with, agrees to, matches. Often, it's
the firstborn of the two -- but not always. With Cindy and Linda, this
was true -- but not for the usual reasons.
They continued their walk, at a leisurely pace, the late afternoon sun
at their backs. With every step, Cindy's tight thong tugged on the
hidden circlet that ringed her clitoris. Left foot, a bit of a pause,
right foot, a tilt of the hips. Tug... pause... tug... a rub against
the cloth of her thong. So gentle. So impossible to ignore. The
little marble sewn into the inside of the back of her thong pressed
against her anus, teasing with every step. Tap, a bit of a pause, tap,
glide. So impossible to think. Just follow her sister Linda's steps,
let her hand gently guide their direction. The shimmering blue cloth
disguised the spot of wetness continually dribbling from her pussy.
Her nipples were taut, jutting out, continually aching. So were
Linda's nipples -- but the cause was different.
Linda guided her twin as they walked along the edge of the water,
listening to the barely-suppressed panting that was Cindy's breathing.
She knew that with every step, every shift of position, Cindy was being
stimulated repeatedly, relentlessly. Linda looked around, enjoying the
delightful view of the sky, the ocean, the nearly-naked bodies -- many
beautiful, many not so beautiful. She knew people stared at them. It
excited her. Even more exciting that they had no idea of the power she
held over Cindy. The power they agreed would last a year. And that
year was coming to an end.
They reached the gate to the private stairway, leading up to their
beach house. Linda let go of Cindy's hand, and unhooked the tiny key
ring attached to the right strap of her own thong. She opened the
gate, led the panting Cindy through, then closed and locked the gate.
Step by gentle step, they ascended the long stairway, all of wood
painted a light blue, but weathered by years in the sun and wind. At
the top, Linda unlocked the door, again led Cindy through, closed and
locked the door.
Once inside, Cindy immediately dropped to the floor on her hands and
knees, and crawled alongside her sister. Her eyes were still
unfocused, her mind barely aware of where she was -- only that she was
next to her sister. Her mistress. Her owner.
Poor little rich girls, Cindy and Linda. Daddy passed away when they
were only two, not even a memory in their heads, known only by his
appearance in the family photos, and the big portrait hanging over the
fireplace mantle back home, in the family mansion. Mama had no time
for them, being always away on some trip, whether for one of her many
charitable causes or just on a vacation. Taking babies along would
have been inconvenient. And by the time the girls were older, Mama had
not acquired the habit of thinking about them as traveling companions.
Raised by nannies, educated at boarding schools, as the girls entered
adulthood they were entirely independent of all family ties. Except,
of course, money. Something they never had to worry about.
Finding something interesting to do -- that was another matter.
They had played little "follow the leader" games all their lives.
Somewhere along the line, as emerging grown-ups, the games became
subtly more and more sexual. Going out with boys -- or girls -- and
switching dates. Daring each other to push the envelope just a little
bit farther, try more outlandish things. Each watching the other
having sex, in a hotel or car. Exchanging partners. Playing with each
other, while their dates watched, or screwed them from behind. Some
experiments with bondage and discipline. With hypnosis, mind control.
They both decided they liked that -- a lot. They played little
dominance games with each other more and more. Sometimes Cindy was the
mistress, sometimes Linda.
Then they hit on the idea of "the agreement."
For one year, one of them would be the dominant partner, the other the
submissive. For a full twelve months, one of them would be mistress,
the other slave. At the end of the year, they would switch. A game of
"spin the dildo" decided that they would start out with Cindy as the
slave, Linda as the mistress.
Today was the anniversary. The last day of the year. Time to exchange
places.
____________________________
____________________________
Linda led Cindy to her usual "slave cell" -- the shower stall in the
bathroom. "Stand up," Linda said. Still not quite sure where she was,
Cindy stood, and let Linda guide her through the door of the stall, and
position her facing the shower head. Linda lifted Cindy's left arm
above her head, and attached the wrist cuff that dangled from a chain
in the ceiling, then did the same with her right arm. Then she reached
inside Cindy's thong, and unhooked the clit circlet from the string
that attached it to the swimsuit. Cindy's legs shook with the brief
stimulation of her clit. Linda gently tugged the thong down Cindy's
long, smooth legs. A tap of Linda's finger to the back of Cindy's left
knee signaled Cindy to lift her foot, so Linda could pull the suit off
that leg, and then a tap to her foot made the slave set her foot down
again. Repeating with the right leg, Linda removed Cindy's thong, and
set it aside on the counter top. A tap to the inside of each thigh
signaled Cindy to shift her stance, so her legs were spread in a wide
inverted "V", allowing Linda to attach the ankle cuffs to the slave's
legs. Linda then walked out of the bathroom, leaving Cindy chained in
the shower stall.
The bathroom held many ways for Linda to play with her slave. Racks of
dildos, in a variety of sizes, shapes, and degrees of "bumpiness." An
enema bag -- a very large one -- with a long tube, and a collection of
nozzles, also in various sizes. Scented oils and lubricants for the
skin. Special lubricants for the vagina, the rectum -- some with
stimulating or aphrodisiac qualities. That was the "low tech" part.
There was a waterproof TV screen in the wall, directly in front of
Cindy's eyes. In a few moments, it came to life, with Linda's face
looking out at Cindy. The camera and a small control station were in
the living room of the beach house, next to a big TV where Linda could
watch her sister from a dozen different angles, through cameras all
over inside the bathroom.
"Pee," Linda commanded. The sound of her voice penetrated the fog that
engulfed Cindy's mind, and she mindlessly released everything inside
her bladder. As soon as Cindy was finished, Linda pressed a control on
her console, and the shower came on, rinsing Cindy down with a gentle
spray of water at body temperature. Another touch of a control, and
the spray stopped.
"Slave Cindy," Linda said. "Slave Cindy... slave Cindy... slave
Cindy..." Those words always triggered Cindy to go deeper and deeper
into hypnosis, enslaved to Linda's voice, wiping all thoughts from her
mind. "That's right... feel your mind going... You're so horny,
aren't you, Cindy? Say yes."
Cindy was so deep, she couldn't even answer without a direct command to
do so. "Yes," she said. Linda watched through a waist-high camera as
Cindy's hips bucked forward. She pressed another control, and a
well-aimed jet of water briefly shot out of the wall, directly at
Cindy's clit. The slave shuddered, her knees buckling slightly.
"It's been almost a year, slave Cindy... slave Cindy... slave Cindy..."
Linda intoned. She pressed another control, and little blasts of air
played over Cindy's breasts, caressing her nipples. "And I've been
preparing you," Linda said. "How long has it been, since I last let
you cum? Do you even remember? How long? Try to tell me."
It was so hard for Cindy to think. She wanted to cum, so badly.
Constantly stroked, stimulated, brainwashed, she could feel herself
always on the brink, right there at the edge. Another jet of air, this
time aimed at her clit, coincided with Linda's repeated command, "How
long?"
"A week?" Cindy murmured. So hard to form the words. Her thoughts
were so fuzzy, she was not entirely sure what a week was. It was all
that she could bring to mind.
"Six weeks," replied Linda. "Six long weeks, I've been playing with
you. Preparing you for this day. Having you lick ME to orgasm...
orgasm... orgasm..."
Cindy pulled at the wrist cuffs, helplessly stimulated by the trigger
word, still unable to cross over that edge.
"Over and over and over again," Linda continued, watching Cindy's face
grimace with unsatisfied lust. "While you could not cum... you cannot
cum... you cannot cum..." Linda smiled, as Cindy's shivering combined
with her bucking hips into a delightful erotic dance. "Today is the
final day, where I am mistress and you are slave. Remember our
agreement? Nod your head."
Cindy's head nodded. She wasn't sure why. Had she been asked a
question?
"But if I'm not your mistress, I won't be able to command you to cum,"
Linda cajoled. Through a camera at face height, Linda could see
Cindy's jaw drop, and her eyes go wide. "If I'm not your mistress, I
won't allow you to cum."
____________________________
____________________________
Linda could see Cindy's lips mouthing the words, "No... no... no...,"
although no sounds came out. A pretty extreme reaction, considering
that Cindy's conditioning had made it almost impossible for her to say
the "N" word!
"If you agree to let me be your mistress for another year, I will let
you cum," Linda said. "I will let you cum and cum and cum! Would you
like that, Cindy?" Now Linda waited. Not even a command to say yes --
just to see how intense her slave's desire was.
Cindy nodded her head, eyes wide and pleading -- actually staring at
the TV screen like she was aware of it!
"Then you must agree. Will you let me be your mistress for another
year, Cindy? If you say yes, I will let you cum." Again, Linda
waited. The final test.
Cindy's mouth worked open and closed for a few moments. So hard to
think. So hard to answer, without being commanded to answer. She
hung, slackly, from her wrist cuffs, all energy directed at trying to
speak. The first syllable came out soundlessly. She gulped, and
finally, plaintively, Cindy managed to answer, "Yes, please be my
mistress!"
"Cum!" Linda immediately commanded. "Cum now! Cum, slave Cindy! Cum!
Cum! Cum!"
On each command, Cindy's body clenched, as the waves of her orgasms
took over, rolling from deep inside her belly, outward through her
torso, arms, and legs. All the chains pulled tight as her muscles
yanked them taut, drawing them to their limits. Her clit swelled
inside the circlet -- pulsing, pulsing, pulsing -- and her cunt spilled
juices down her legs and onto the shower floor. She continued to hear
Linda's voice commanding her to "cum... cum... cum..." -- unaware that
it was now a recording that Linda had started, so she was free to walk
to the kitchen, make a cup of tea, and return to the living room to
watch her sister quaking in the throes of repeating, intense orgasms.
Linda sat down on the sofa, legs crossed -- so she could squeeze them
together and gently stimulate her own clit -- and sipped her tea,
enjoying the little moans coming from the TV speakers. She wondered if
Cindy had any realization how many years it had been, since they first
made their agreement.
That she had agreed again, and again, to be the slave for one more
year?
Year after year.
One year at a time.
* * * * * *
More of jessicablank at http://www.mzdominica.com
- The End -
[Note: this story is protected by international copyright law,
all rights not expressly waived are reserved by its author.]
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