My name is Hannah, I'm twenty-five years old and I have a twin sister named Holly.
We're identical twins and as you might expect, we were extremely close growing up. She and I look exactly alike, same eyes, same nose, same mouth, same smile. Looking at her was like looking in a mirror. It was always easy to trust her. She had a very trustworthy face. She looked exactly like me. And who could I trust if not myself?
We were raised together, went through puberty together and she was my best friend and confidant while I was growing up. We drifted apart when I went to Hollywood to become a model/actress and she went to Fairhaven University and majored in computer science.
I have a classically beautiful face and a body that's been sculpted by endless hours at the gym. I have impressively toned abs, dancer's legs and perfectly shaped buttocks. Even if I can't perform as well as Oscar award winning actresses, I look great on camera and that's enough for casting directors to hire me. So, I get paid well these days.
Holly on the other hand, hit a patch of bad luck. The company she was working for was being investigated by the SEC and most of the employees were let go. When she lost her job, it became difficult for her to pay her bills, so she asked me if she could come live with me until she got her life back on track.
Of course, I said yes.
Holly and I had lived together before, so it was easy to fit her into my life and have her living with me again. Without even discussing it, we ended up sharing household chores, eating meals together and jogging together every morning. We just fell into old, familiar routines effortlessly. It was almost like picking up from where we left off when we were teenagers.
For the first two weeks or so I was pleasantly surprised at how easily and seamlessly I was able to integrate Holly into my life, and then came the day that she found a pair of handcuffs in my room.
"Hey, Hannah," my sister said, holding the handcuffs up so the light reflected off them, "why do you have these?"
I could feel my heart beat a little harder and my face flush hot with embarrassment. I knew I must be blushing as I recognized the incriminating bondage device my sister had found in my room. My last lover had been into bondage games and when we broke up, she had left behind some of the toys she used to make me helpless.
I briefly considered lying to my sister, or at least changing the subject. But this was Holly. She was my identical twin. We shared everything. I'd never lied to her before, and I decided that this was hardly a good time to start.
"Sylvie was my last girlfriend. She was into bondage," I explained.
After I told her that, there was a long, protracted silence. She kept staring at me and the longer she stared, the more awkward and uncomfortable I felt. Then I added, "She would have me strip naked and then use handcuffs or leather restraints to make me helpless. She would force me to remain naked for hours while she kept her clothes on. Something about being the only one naked was a huge thrill for me. And the bondage added an extra layer of helplessness and submission to the situation. Those feelings of helplessness made things even more exciting."
"So, being naked while a clothed person wields power over you is a huge turn on?" my sister asked, the handcuffs still dangling from two fingers of her right hand.
I shrugged and tried to sound casual as I replied, "There are far stranger things I could have been into."
"Oh, I'm well aware," Holly responded. A wicked smile spread across her beautiful face and then she added, "Now, take your clothes off."
My eyebrows rose, and my eyes widened in surprise. "What?"
"You did it for your last girlfriend," Holly explained. "You can do it for me. Get naked. I want to handcuff you and see how aroused you get."
I felt a throb of sexual excitement at her words, but it was too bizarre. BDSM games with my sister? Seriously? I mean, I couldn't really do that, could I?
"Holly! No!" I protested.
"And why not? I've seen you naked before. I've seen you naked plenty of times. We've fooled around before. It'll be like old times."
It was true that Holly and I had fooled around before. As my twin sister, she was an ideal person for me to practice on before I began dating and became sexually active. Holly had helped me practice kissing, heavy petting, cunnilingus and other intimate practices before I tried them out on other women. Holly looked and sounded exactly like me, so she was incredibly non-threatening. It was like practicing on myself.
"Bondage and submission games with my sister?" I asked. "That doesn't sound like old times."
"You'll enjoy it," my sister said emphatically. "Now, get undressed. It's not nice to keep me waiting."
Holly's voice changed. It took on a deep, authoritative tone and suddenly my pulse quickened, and I had butterflies in my stomach. She was still my twin sister, she still looked just like me, but somehow, she also looked like an imposing authority figure, and I felt a powerful compulsion to obey her orders without question.
My fingers began to unbutton the front of my shirt. It was almost like my hands did the bidding of my sister's authoritarian voice without waiting for orders from my brain. And once I was shirtless, my hands moved down below my waist to undo the snap on my jeans and unzip them.
As I stripped, my sister watched me closely. She had a predatory look on her face, like a wolf watching a rabbit, waiting for the right moment to pounce. When I got down to just my panties, my heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt a delicious and exciting sense of fear. Then, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my thong panties and yanked them down, exposing myself to my sister, feeling utterly submissive to my sister and waiting to see what she would do next.
"Good girl," Holly said. "Now, place your hands behind your back."
My legs felt wobbly as I turned around and stuck my hands out behind me, presenting my wrists for my sister. I heard the metallic snap and felt the unforgiving grasp of cold stainless-steel locking around my wrists, and I was forced to acknowledge my helplessness and vulnerability. There were butterflies in my stomach and a soft, wet pulse in my loins. I gasped and felt an onslaught of potent emotions.
I squirmed and strained against the handcuffs as if trying to break free. Of course, I couldn't. I think that maybe I just wanted to reassure myself that I was helpless. Something about being helpless was deliciously exciting and it was thrilling to embrace it, to luxuriate in it.
"Bondage suits you," my sister commented as she closed the distance between us. Standing behind me, she wrapped one arm around my waist and gently yet firmly placed one hand on my abdomen.
She rubbed my flat abs gently in slow, clockwise circles.
