Salacious Sisters

My name is Hannah, and I have a twin sister.

We're very close. When we were growing up, we did everything together. As adults, we spent some time apart when she went off to college, but then she graduated, got a job with a large corporation, lost her job at that large corporation, and now we're living together again.

There's nothing at all unusual about all of that, but things got a little bit unconventional after she moved in with me.

You see, while Holly was away at college, I got into a BDSM relationship with a woman named Sylvie. Sylvie and I eventually broke up, but by that time, I had developed a taste for being bound, helpless and dominated. And when Holly moved in with me, I tried to see if she would be willing to treat me like I was her sex slave.

I love Holly and trust her very much. And she's extremely beautiful. In many ways, she was the perfect choice.

I know, some people will say that sex with your sister is incest, and incest is forbidden, but Holly and I never cared about labels like that. Also, the main complaint about incest has always been that children born of incest quite often have birth defects. Holly and I are both lesbians. No matter how much pussy we eat or tribbing we do, neither one of us is going to get pregnant.

Spanking, bondage, and lesbian incest would be kinky enough for most people, but Holly and I pushed the envelope and went even kinkier. You see, I'm into something called CFNF. That stands for clothed female, nude female. And that's all about me being the only one naked while clothed women openly stare at my boobs, my pubic lips, my buttocks and my hard nipples like I was a naked slave on the auction block and they're trying to decide how much they're willing to spend on me.

It gives me a dark, delicious thrill for respectably clothed women to ogle my naked body, so Holly keeps recruiting people to join in our sex games and treat me like a naked sex slave.

And so it was that one sunny Spring morning, Holly had me kneeling at her feet so she could buckle a slave collar around my neck. Of course, I was naked while Holly wore her designer jeans, V-neck shirt and running shoes. We had friends coming over and we wanted me to look the part of Holly's slave before they arrived.

"You look noticeably submissive all naked and with the slave collar buckled around your throat," my sister observed. "But a true slave would have handprints all over her beautiful bottom. Get over my lap and I'll take care of that for you."

I made a sound in my throat, somehow halfway between a moan and a whine and I replied, "I've done everything you've asked of me. Why do I need to be spanked?"

Before she replied verbally, my sister reached down between my legs and slipped a finger into my wet pussy, I let out a gasp that ever so slightly had a moan mixed in with it.

"I'm pretty sure you enjoy these spankings," my sister replied. "I mean, you're soaking wet. Of course, if you feel I'm being too harsh, I could always just stop being your mistress. You could stop being my slave and we could go back to just being sisters that never do anything sexual or kinky with each other."

Holly knew that I wouldn't be willing to do that. Being her naked, objectified, punished slave filled me with a potent, magical sort of excitement, unlike anything else I had ever experienced. I wasn't going to give it up. I might moan or complain about the way I was treated, but I didn't want it to stop.

I crawled across my sister's lap, placed my palms flat on the floor and raised my bare buttocks high, making them an easy and inviting target. I was struck by how vulnerable I'd made myself and a wave of palpable arousal swept over me.

Holly rested one hand on my left butt cheek and said, "You have a very cute bottom. It'll look even cuter after we add some color to it. And it's expected that sex slaves always bear the signs of a stinging spanking on their buttocks."

I was looking for the appropriate response to her words when her hand came down on my unprotected rear.

"Ow!"

"Keep your back arched," my sister admonished me. "Keep your head down and your buttocks up. I expect you to follow proper etiquette for spankings."

There was an unmistakable tone of authority in her voice. My submissive instincts responded to that tone, and I did my utmost to keep my back arched and my butt raised, even though my self-preservation instincts were insisting that I should be defending myself.

I gasped and cried out in pain as my sister turned my ass into an agonizing pulse of heat. And yet the way I squirmed across her lap wasn't just because of the pain she was inflicting. It was also because of the pulsing fire in my loins. You see, something about submitting to brutal, humiliating punishments is a huge trigger for my libido. The more severely my sister abused me, the more intensely my pussy throbbed.

Her strong right hand came down on my vulnerable backside repeatedly. I bounced across her lap and cried out repeatedly in girlish pain until the spanking was over.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! AHH!!"

In the end, my perfectly shaped buttock and the backs of my thighs were seething in red hot, pulsing pain. Hannah assured me that she only gave me thirty-six swats, but it felt like more. My sister told me to get up off her lap and once I was standing, I rubbed my poor, stinging, throbbing bottom.

"I never said you could touch yourself," my sister admonished me. "Hands at your sides."

Obediently, I took my hands away from my punished bottom. It still hurt, but my sister had a stern, commanding tone of voice and my submissive instincts kicked in and I felt compelled to obey.

"Slaves shouldn't ever touch themselves without permission," Holly continued. "It's a violation of slave etiquette. You need to show self-control and just absorb the pain when your mistress punishes you."

"Ooooh,"

I groaned, but I didn't complain. Holly was being cruel, but it's hardly unexpected. We had carefully negotiated the terms of our new slave/mistress relationship and I had specifically agreed to strict rules, harsh corporal punishments, forced nudity and sexual objectification.

"When our friends arrive, your cute ass is going to be whipped with a leather strap. How will you handle that if you can't handle a simple hand spanking?"

"I can handle more. I can do better," I promised.

"Good girl."

Then she took a few steps towards me and reached for me. She told me to place my hands behind my back and cross my wrists. Then she kissed me passionately on the lips before grabbing one of my nipples and rolling it between her fingers. She didn't stop until I was good and aroused.

"Ohhhhhh."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I didn't hear it at first over the sounds of my own heavy breathing and my heart pounding in my ears.

I had assumed that Holly would go see who it was, but instead she gave me an expectant look and she told me to see who it was instead.

"Answer the door, Slave," Holly said to me.

I gave her an incredulous look and said, "Holly! I can't answer the door like this! I'm naked."

Then she reached between my legs, pinched my pubic lips together and responded, "It's probably just Ms. Bobocea. Either her or Robin. And they've both seen you naked before, so what's the big deal?"

My sister had a point, nevertheless, my heart thundered in my chest, and I felt nervous, exposed, and vulnerable.

Naked and apprehensive, I walked across the room on wobbly legs. I felt degraded enough already and then my sister admonished me, "And stop slouching! Stand up straight! Shoulders back! Chest thrust forward! I don't want our friends to think that my slave has poor posture!"

There was a soft, wet pulse in my vagina as I timidly straightened my spine and thrust my chest out. I felt so submissive at that moment, I might as well have been Holly's legal property. I couldn't have felt more like a slave even if she had legal papers of ownership showing that I was her slave and that she had the legal rights to punish me, sexually molest me or display my naked body in public any time she felt like it.

I kept my tits thrust out, my hard nipples indecently on display, grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. I had assumed that it would be Ms. Bobocea on the other side of the door. She was my next-door neighbor, so she had the shortest distance to travel to get here.

Shamelessly exposing my naked body to Ms. Bobocea would have been humiliating enough, but when the door was fully opened, I saw that it was not my next-door neighbor standing there. It was my mother.

"Mom?" I asked incredulously. I suddenly felt intensely hot and cold at the same time, and I broke out into a panicky sweat. Without thinking I covered my boobs with one arm, and I used my right hand to cover my pussy.

"Hannah!" my sister yelled out and I heard her footsteps behind me. "What are you...?"

"Mom?" she exclaimed, sounding just as surprised as me.

For an indeterminate amount of time, Holly and I stared at our mother. She stared back at us. None of us seemed to know what to say, so we all just stared at each other, slack jawed and glassy eyed.

Finally, my mother broke the long, uncomfortable silence by saying, "Hannah, this is the part where you invite me inside."

Her words snapped me out of my stunned paralysis. I took two steps back and nervously responded, "Of course, won't you come in?"

Standing naked in an open doorway probably would have made me popular among any of my neighbors who happened to be walking past my house, but it would have been painfully embarrassing for me if they caught a glimpse of me like this. Once my mother was inside, she shut the door behind her, protecting my naked body from being ogled by half the neighborhood.

My mother gave me a look and then she turned and focused her attention on Holly and said, "I suppose you know why I'm here."

Holly's eyes widened and she briefly glanced at me before she returned her gaze to our mother and said, "I honestly have no idea."

The look of confusion on my sister's face and the sound of confusion in her voice was enough to convince me. Apparently, it was also enough to convince my mother, so she proceeded to explain why she was there.

"I'm here because you sent this email to me."

My mother dug out her iPhone and navigated through options until she found what she was looking for. Then she held it up so my sister could see the image on the screen. Holly moved in closer to get a good look and after a few moments of hesitation I moved in closer as well.

"Holy crap!"

"What?"

"I sent out a group email inviting Robin, Anja and Ms. Bobocea to come over to see my lesbian sex slave get punished and abused and objectified."

My mother chose that moment to interrupt and said, "Only you didn't just send it out to three people. You sent it out to a large group of people in your email contacts...approximately a dozen people...including me."

"I must have clicked the wrong email group," my sister replied.

"That group also included your Aunt Greta and your cousin Nadja. Greta saw this email and called me, demanding to know what my daughters have been up to."

"Um," Holly replied hesitantly.

"Your Aunt Greta is concerned and so am I. I didn't believe in corporal punishment. I never spanked either of you girls when you were growing up, and now I learn that you're spanking your sister. Can you see how I might be concerned?"

"I suppose." Holly said sheepishly. "But it's not like I'm being hurtful or mean. It's just a form of kinky foreplay."

"Look, I've known for years that you and your sister have been fooling around with each other. And honestly, that never really bothered me. I figured no harm done, but corporal punishment; that's something different. And as your mother, I think I have the right to see for myself if what you're doing to your sister is just harmless games, or if you're being abusive."

"I'm not being abusive," Holly said defensively.

"I need to see for myself," my mother explained. "And I need to report back to Greta. If I don't give her some sort of eyewitness testimony that Hannah is alright, I'll never hear the end of it."

Everything after that was kind of a blur. Somebody told my mother that I was spanked right before she arrived at the front door. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was Holly. I can't remember. In any event, I ended up having to turn around and present my buttocks for my mother to inspect.

"There are no welts and no bruises," my mother commented as she ran her fingertips gently up and down my ass. "I'm sure this hurt, but it's not the sort of thing that would require medical attention."

"I'm not a monster," Holly protests. "I'm not going to send Hannah to the emergency room."

My mother let out a long, frustrated sigh and said, "Up until you sent out this email, Greta and Nadja had no idea you and your sister had ever had sex together. They only had the slightest of suspicions that either one of you was gay. Now, every time your names come up, they're going to bring up the topic of Hannah being Holly's lesbian sex slave."

"Sorry," Holly and I replied simultaneously.

"This isn't the last time I'm going to do this," my mother assured us as she finished up examining me. "I'm going to come back periodically to make sure Hannah doesn't have any welts or serious injuries. Now that your secret is out, the questions about your sister's welfare will be a constant topic of conversation."

The idea of my mother periodically showing up at my home to examine my naked body filled me with humiliation, but I realized shortly thereafter that even those feelings of humiliation were darkly delicious. It was almost as if my status as Holly's lesbian sex slave had become official and my mother was taking up the role of slave's advocate, to make certain that Holly's slave isn't abused too badly.

Oh, God, I'm a mess. I'm probably the only woman on Earth who could get turned on from her naked body being examined for welts by her mother. Eventually, my mother left and in the brief interval between her departure and the arrival of our friends, I got to ask about the other people who got Holly's email.

"Well, um, there were a total of fourteen people on the list, but two of them were our grandparents so they don't count."

Grandma Klara and Grandpa Alois died about a year ago, so Holly was right about their emails not counting. There's no way they could ever read any emails about me being a naked, lesbian sex slave. Dead people are notoriously famous for their failure to keep up with their emails and text messages.

"The others are all friends; people we knew back in high school, you know, like Daphne Cross, Helene Cross, Cleo Dubois, Avery Boyko, Margot Dubanoski, Linn Rod, Eva Volkov, a few others."

All of these were nice girls from good families with good reputations. I briefly imagined the looks of shock and horror that would surely spread across their faces when they read about the kinky things my sister and I have been getting up to and I cringed.

"Jesus, this is a lot to take in," I exclaimed. "So many people all at once. How could you send out a group email like that? You went to school and studied computer science! You of all people should know how to send an email to the right people!"

Holly was smart, but even smart people can make mistakes. She just clicked on the incorrect email group. It can happen to anybody, even computer nerds. And now those upstanding, wholesome, vanilla people would think of me as some sort of depraved lesbian sex slave. What will happen if I meet one of these people face-to-face now? What will I say to them?

Before I could wallow too deeply in self-pity, Robin and Ms. Bobocea arrived. Before the planned festivities could begin, I felt like I had to explain to our friends how I'd been outed and now my mother, my aunt and a small army of 'normal' people knew about my deviant sex life.

"That's horrible," Robin exclaimed.

"Do you want to call off the BDSM party?" Ms. Bobocea asked.

"No! Calling it off would be the worst possible thing she could do," Robin insisted. "It would be like saying she's ashamed of being a lesbian, or ashamed of being submissive, or both. She can't give these so-called 'normal' people the power to make her feel bad about herself!"

"So, I should just go forward with the bondage and punishment stuff like nothing happened?" I asked. "That's what you're saying?"

"I'm saying you should double down. Kick it up a notch, make the bondage more severe, make the punishments more extreme, make everything even more kinky than before. If they wanna judge you, show them how little their judgements mean to you."

"Seriously?"

"You're not doing anything illegal," Robin said defiantly. "You're not hurting anybody, and you don't owe these people anything. I for one intend to whip you until your backside is raw and make you eat my pussy until I pass out from an orgasm overdose."

My sister agreed with Robin and even opined that it might be therapeutic for me to be whipped right away.

"It was emotionally traumatic for Hannah when she realized that our mother and other members of the family had learned all of her deepest, darkest sex secrets. I think the quickest way for her to dispel that emotional trauma would be to experience some even more intense physical trauma. The physical pain will be so overwhelming it will crowd out the emotional pain."

It was a highly unorthodox treatment for what ails me, but it wasn't totally crazy, and I allowed that it just might work.

"There's a whipping frame out in the back yard," I suggested. "Who wants to help secure me to it?"

Of course, everyone wanted to help. Holly marched me naked and barefoot out into the back yard and smacked me on the ass to make me move faster. She started referring to my spread-eagle bondage and the imminent painful punishments they were going to inflict upon me as 'therapy.'

"Therapy?" I asked at one point.

"Pain therapy," my sister responded. "Soon, you'll be in so much pain you won't be able to feel any emotional discomfort or embarrassment or care about what your family thinks of you."

I didn't have a lot of time to analyze the logic of those words, given how quickly Holly, Robin and Ms. Bobocea backed me into the whipping frame and buckled the restraints around my wrists and ankles. It didn't take long before I was spread-eagled, and my pussy throbbed at the thought of how helpless I was. I looked down at my bound ankles and my shamelessly widespread legs, then reflexively whimpered and squirmed.

"Try to get free," Holly suggested and I struggled against the leather straps with all my might, but the restraints held firm. My arms and legs were bound far apart, and I couldn't do anything but flex and strain against the bondage. My body was effectively immobilized.

I was naked and helpless in the back yard, with some of my neighbors probably jogging or walking their dogs less than fifty yards away. FEDEX and UPS delivery people could be just about fifty yards away as well. Of course, they couldn't see me because the front of the house and the tall wooden fence was blocking their view, but just the thought of being so naked, exposed and helpless filled me with a sense of fear and dark desire that was potent and delicious.

"Oh, God, this is exciting," I gasped. "What's next?"

Robin and Ms. Bobocea stared pruriently at my naked body while my sister went to fetch a leather strap. She insisted that she would whip me long and hard until I forgot about all my other problems. I found myself breathing heavily and awaiting the most intensely painful BDSM session of my young life.

My breasts heaved up and down as I thought about what was to come and then Holly ambled back over holding a long, thin leather strap. I was instantly afraid of the wicked sting it could inflict on my naked body, but at the same time excited and I trembled in fear and anticipation.