Mine Ch 02 6

I woke up on a couch, with flames dancing behind my closed eyelids. Rope burned my wrists. I tried to lift my fingers to my eyes, to brush strands of violet hair out of the way, but I found that the rope snaked through the belt loops on my jeans and held tight.

I opened my eyes to a living room with a stone fireplace, and two wide windows on either side of it. The sun was down, thank god. My head was swimming and the added light would only worsen it.

My ankles were bound as well, the extra rope trailing over the arm of the couch. "Mason?"

I turned, my eyes drifting over the room. There was a second couch, where I found Mason sitting upright on the cushions. "Hey," he said.

"Where are we?"

"The cabin."

We'd never been here, but the address was read to us the day our grandmother died. She had lived by herself in Montana, without the will to call or visit. Our mother tried several times to bring us all out here, but grandma refused. When she died, it was a week before anyone knew. It was our house now, willed to us by a benefactor we'd never known. Mason and I had always joked that the first thing we would have our captive do is clean the dead old lady smell from our carpets. "It smells fine to me."

Mason laughed. "Apparently the will designated some cleaning service to keep it tidy until we were of age. I don't remember that stipulation."

I didn't either, but it made sense. Grandmother never wanted her daughter or her son in law to set foot in this house. Of course she would find a way around that.

The fire snapped, bringing our eyes back to its billowing flames. It stretched to the stone funnel that was its only escape, the soft noises it made were like the sighs of a captive.

"Untie me."

Now it was Mason who sighed. He shifted forward, elbows pressing into his knees as he leaned to stare into the fire. "I don't know that I can. I thought you were on board, now I'm not so sure the role you play."

"I'm not your slave, I'm your sister."

He shook his head slowly, still not looking at me. I watched the way his hair, slightly shaggy, rippled across his scalp when he moved. It shaded his eyes, making them darker and more sad.

"You win this one," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"You've always been the one with crazy schemes, and sure- I help develop them. But you come up with our plans and our pranks. I am the one that perfects them, making it so that we will not get caught. Or that we have a plan B to fall back on. And before we ever started dreaming, we fought. We fight all the time. I wanted us to go to college, but you didn't want us to waste our time." I lifted my wrists as far as they would go, and wiggled my fingers. The both of us grinned. "Obviously, this fight is yours."

"You're sure we're good? You're not trying to trick me?"

I scowled. "Come on, Mason, really? I want this as much as you do."

"Good." He grinned, and stood up from his cushioned seat. He drew a knife as he passed the crimson rug spread between us, and knelt beside me to work at my ties.

"So where is she?"

"Taylor?"

"Who else?"

"Locked in her room." He glanced up at me, looking a little embarrassed. "I told her I needed time to myself, to think. She beat at the door for a while, it was all I could do not to barge in there and beat her."

"You waited?" My eyes widened and my lips spread into a smile. "No way."

"I did." Mason didn't seem as happy about this knowledge as I did, but he continued to cut the ties that bound me to the sofa. "I could've done it myself, but I didn't want to. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't apologized... It's so dumb, I know, but you're a part of me Avery. And I thought I'd lost that part. It was devastating."

My wrists were free. I ignored the burn to lay my hands on his jaw, and tilt his face toward mine. "You are me, and I am you. We will never lose each other, it's not possible."

He nodded. "Still. It's bad that I depend on you so much."

I let him continue cutting in silence. The memory of our fight, and the events surrounding it, tugged at my conscious. There was so much that needed saying, so much we would need to do before we felt well. That house, living there- it was terrible. I didn't want to think about that, not now. But someday I would need to. We needed to comfort each other, like we always had. I wondered who would heal first. Or if things would only continue to get worse.

His anger had had no choice, at that point. It had to go somewhere. Not only anger, but the fear and frustration as well. "It's not dependence," I said. "You felt betrayed. And after all we've been through, your reaction makes sense."

The rope fell loose from my ankles and I sat up, stretching. Adrenaline flowed into my sleeping limbs. Mason watched me rub my muscles back into consciousness, his expression returning to the eager hunger I liked. "I'm just glad you apologized," he said.

That word again. I didn't apologize, but I let it go. The dizziness was fading from my head and I was restless. My stomach was growling at me as well, the dark of the sky reminding me that I had been out at least 24 hours. "I need food."

Mason rolled his eyes. "Why don't we introduce Taylor to her new life first."

"No- I need to eat, or else I won't enjoy it."

He sighed, and motioned to the arc of wood behind him. "That leads to the kitchen. The other one is stairs. I'm gonna talk to her, calm her down. You eat. Meet back here?"

"Sure."

I ate fast. Mason would be quick to comfort his confused yet maleable girlfriend, and I did not want to miss a thing. I washed a salami sandwich down with lemonade and was returned from the kitchen in under five minutes.

Mason led Taylor into the room by one gentle hand twined around hers. She looked disgruntled but in a fake pout kind of way, like she forgave him but wanted to milk it. It was adorable to see.

She spoke first, still following Mason. "Mason says that if we are all to be living together, we need to discuss arrangements," she said. Mason paused on the rug, and they both stood before me.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the back of the couch. "Yes, we do."

Taylor was a little bit older than us, but we all graduated together. She was an okay student, not very bright on the streets. But she had gorgeous hair. It was a golden brown that cascaded over her shoulders in gentle waves, to tease the curve of her breasts where they peeked out the top of her shirt.

"Well?" she asked. She looked to Mason to make the next move, but he was staring at me. Our eyes locked and the words were unspoken.

This was it. Years and years of hiding. Of indulging our passions one stolen moment at a time. I felt bad for Taylor: she was about to get the results of so much pent up aggression, I doubted she would make it through. She would be the symbol of everything we have ever hated, everything and everyone that has ever put us down.

This was it. The beginning of a new era. Our life, starting anew, to suit our every want. Our suffering had finally ended and hers- Taylor's- had just begun.

"Take off your clothes," I said.

Taylor scoffed. "What?"

"Take them off."

"Mason, what the fuck-- tell your sister to cool it."

Mason grabbed her hair like he had mine, twisting it in his fingers.

"Hey," she protested, and squirmed against him. "Mason, I don't want to play. You guys are being weird."

"Avery is your master now, we both are. And you will obey her. Take off your clothes." Mason held his arm out, so that she stood away from him and had the space to do as he commanded. She refused though, murmuring something about going home and us being crazy. Mason squeezed her scalp more tightly to his knuckles. "Remember that time you let me paddle you, out in the woods?"

"Yeah."

"If you do not listen, I will spank you again. But it will not be a game, Taylor. And it will not end until I say it does. There are no hikers here, to stop me when you start to cry. There is only Avery. And she doesn't care what you think."

Taylor's pale green eyes drifted to me, tears brimming against her long lashes. I smiled at her and the tears could hold back no longer. They fell in rivulets down her pale skin. "Take them off," I said.

Her hands trembled. She started with her shirt, lifting the thin fabric above her head. Mason let go of her and she stumbled, crying out. But she stayed standing, and let the shirt drop to the floor. Next she unsnapped her bra, the grey fabric beautiful with it's lavender lace and her cream colored skin. Her underwear matched- lavender satin with grey stripes crisscrossing it. She tugged her jeans slowly down her thighs, the panties coming with part of the way.

Her nipples tightened on her c-cup breasts. Taylor bent to pull her socks off, and her breasts swayed forward, brushing against her arms. She was sobbing now, her lithe body exposed to us. At least it was warm in here, I knew. The fire kept it cozy. But those tits-- I wondered if they hardened in fear, if that was even possible.

Taylor kicked her jeans away from her feet, and hugged her arms to her chest. She'd seen me looking. But she couldn't cover everything. Her cunt glistened from between her legs, damp from Mason's attempt at comfort, no doubt. She was far from excited now.

Mason picked up her clothes, even her shoes, and moved to the fire. Taylor protested but he threw them in. The flames engulfed it with a hungry cackling sound, like hyenas to their prey. Her tears fell afresh and her shoulders shuddered.

The room had a romantic glow to it. The walls were dark mahogany, as were the ceiling and the floor. The carpet under Taylor's bare feet was thick and crimson, like the couches, and spread wider than the span of the fireplace. The fire cast a ruby shimmer on everything, even our new slave's skin. It highlighted her hair, making even that seem overwhelmed with the blaze.

Mason took his seat on the opposite couch. They were slanted, so that with the fireplace they formed a triangle. Taylor stood between us, hands still struggling to cover her swollen nipples. "The price for living here is obedience," Mason began, legs crossing at his knees and hands spreading over the back of the sofa. "You will do as Avery and I say, and with enthusiasm. You will live as our slave, doing even mundane things, like cooking and cleaning. But you mustn't forget that you are here for sex. We will use you however we see fit, whenever we like. Understood?"

Taylor trembled, and shook her head. Her body was constantly shivering, despite the added heat her clothes made in the fire. "I don't want to. I don't want to live here."

Mason shrugged. "Then we will kill you. Avery, how shall she die?"

"Slowly," I said. "We will cut her open, one slice at a time, from those rosy pink nipples to the clit that has betrayed us." I leaned forward, eyes catching Taylor's. "If your pussy will not get wet on it's own, we will make it wet with your blood."

"Sounds good to me." Mason drew the knife from his pocket.

Taylor screamed, and stepped back. "No, please, no. I will obey. I will."

"Good." Mason put the knife back into his pocket and settled into the cushions of his couch. "My sister and I need to discuss a few things. While we do, you will service her."

"Mason, please..." She dropped to her knees before him, her hands clasping around her thighs. Her tits pressed against the denim jeans he wore. "I love you, I want to help you, please- don't do this to me."

"Lay across my lap."

"No-"

"Now." It took her a moment to stand, she was crying so much. She buried her face in her hands, rubbing at her eyes. Mason pulled her down over his lap, grasped her wrists with one hand, and slapped her ass with the other. Taylor gasped. "You will obey us."

He hit her again, the slap solid enough to echo in the unadorned room. Taylor hung her head to cry, while he hit her again and again. She struggled but not nearly well enough to escape- perhaps she knew that she couldn't. Perhaps she was resigned.

Taylor's hair covered her face. Mason continued to speak to her, his voice still clear above her moans. "You will know only rules, punishment, and reward. Until you truly feel the pleasure that comes with pure dedication, you will pretend. Don't worry slave, it will sink in."

Then he struck her harder. Much harder. This time her shriek was one of pain, and she tried to rise from Mason's lap. "Lay down," he demanded, and his palm enforced it. The hit pushed her body forward- her hands grasped the couch to keep her from hitting her head. Her breasts had been resting on Mason's thigh, now they fell past the barrier and she was stuck forward like that, unless she rose again. The position made her ass rise higher, for Mason's convenience.

"Please..." She sobbed, and Mason interrupted her plea with another sharp swat. Her fingers clawed at the couch and the carpet, and if a hold on something solid was all she needed to be safe from his wrath.

"And you will take every punishment we give you with gratitude. I am teaching you how to better serve us, and for that you should be thanking me. You will never again ask for reprieve. Understood?"

She just screamed into his jeans, fingers still trying to grasp something- anything.

"I suggest you answer my question, slut, or I will beat you with something more harsh than my hands."

"Yes," she cried. All that hair... I wanted to see her tears.

I slipped off the bed and knelt beside my brother. I used a hand to grasp her the way Mason had, my fingers curling into her hair. I grabbed her lightly, though, just enough to pull her head up. Her eyes were red and the lids puffed around them. Her skin was sticky with sweat and tears, her lips bleeding where she had bit them. "Avery..." she moaned, in between shrieks.

"Yes my darling?" I smiled at her, even as she twisted in my grasp. She struggled with every spank Mason gave her, wriggled in his grasp but did not try to leave. I could see how tired she was.

She shook her head. Instead she cried more. She had been searching for sympathy, leniency. I had none. I held her head up while my brother beat her, so that I could see the despair grow in her emerald eyes.