Twins in College

My big brother and I had agreed that Sunday would be a day I submitted to him. "Twenty-four hours," he had informed me. "Twenty-four hours in which you are no longer my baby sister and I am no longer your big brother. Understood?"

"Yes, Master," I had replied quietly, hoping that none of the other BART passengers could hear my response. With a smile, I added, "I'm looking forward to it already!"

*****

It began at midnight. Actually, it began well before midnight.

Per my big brother's request, I was to be wearing nothing underneath my skirt at midnight when he came to the video store to escort me home. So, in order to comply with the order, that is how I went to work that night: skirt, no thong. It reminded me of the Valentine's Day mini-vacation in Little Tokyo, when I had been his slave during our trip, when I had been required to go outside wearing a skirt but no thong. But while I was a little concerned that someone might look up my skirt if I needed to walk up the stairs to the second floor of the video store, I felt much more at ease this time about being pantyless – or, more specifically, thongless – in public.

Shortly after midnight, while I was (appropriately) restocking the adult section, my Master stepped past the curtain and grinned at me. I knew he was wondering if I had followed his orders, so I stepped over one aisle so that I would not be seen if someone else stepped past the curtain, then briefly lifted my skirt long enough for my Master to be assured that I had indeed obeyed him. He simply winked, and soon stepped back into the main area of the store.

I was the last employee to leave, which meant my Master and I were alone for a few minutes in the video store. Just as we were about to leave through the back door, he suddenly grabbed my arm, turned me quickly, backed me hard against the door, and began assaulting me with his hands and his mouth. He swallowed my squeals and my groans as he molested me, and I eagerly gave myself over to him, allowing him to do whatever he wanted with me, to me. He pressed a knee between my thighs, and I clutched him tightly as I slid back and forth upon his knee like a shameless harlot trying to entice a potential customer into paying more.

Then, just as suddenly, the much-welcomed molestation was over. I was breathless as we stepped out of the store and I locked the back door. Then, arm-in-arm, we headed back to the apartment, back to our refuge from the world, and into my submission proper.

"One hard-set rule for your twenty-four hours of submission," my Master informed me as we neared our apartment building. "You will wear at most only a thong and a collar, unless we decide to go out somewhere. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied, trying to hide a smile, "I understand."

Once in the apartment, my Master had not yet even closed the door when he ordered: "Strip."

I quickly complied. Jacket, t-shirt, skirt, bra, shoes, socks – all my clothes were tossed aside and I stood before my Master, wearing only my waist chain. The entire time, he had stood leaning back against the door, his arms folded across his chest, his face nearly expressionless – with the exception of his eyes, sparkling brilliantly, filled with admiration and love.

"To your knees."

I knelt before him, looking up at him, smiling, trying to give him by best "innocent little girl" expression... although it certainly was not convincing given that a true innocent little girl would never be naked in front of her big brother. By instinct, I reached out to him, stroked his thighs through his jeans, but then he took my hands in his and pushed my hands away.

"Make yourself cum," he instructed me.

For a moment, I actually felt self-conscious and shy about masturbating for him. Rarely had I masturbated at all since my big brother and I had begun living together, as he was very, very diligent about taking care of my sexual needs. Yet, somehow, I was able to lick my fingers and move a hand between my thighs and a hand to my chest, starting the climb toward the peak of sexuality.

Slowly, he dropped to his knees before me. "Don't stop," he ordered, lifting my chin with his fingertips. We gazed into each other's eyes, and my heart melted, the action of my hands faltering for just a moment, but he did not seem to notice. Leaning forward, he kissed me, directly between the eyes, his tongue just barely brushing against the bridge of my nose. Somehow, it was a catalyst, causing my hands to move a little faster, to stroke with a little more pressure.

I was surprised when my Master's other hand brushed against mine, but then not at all surprised when two of his fingers slipped up inside me as his eyes held mine captive once more. He smiled at my gasp of delight, his eyes narrowing as a devious thought passed through his incestuous mind. His fingers moved slowly inside me as I worked at my clitoris, our eyes remaining locked together until, at last, I closed my eyes and gave a not-so-quiet unladylike groan from our combined actions at the base of my torso.

Faster and faster our hands moved. He released my chin and brushed the hair away from my face, kissing my cheek as his fingers continued to rise into me. Then he withdrew from me, my body instantly crying at the lack of tactile contact with my loving Dominant, but I figured that he was not truly about to leave me.

I was right. After crawling around me, my Master knelt behind me, clutching me tightly as my hands worked at my sex and my chest, causing me to finally slip over the edge and plunge into carnal bliss. "Don't stop... Keep cumming... Cum all you want..." His supportive words in my ear prolonged and renewed my orgasm, his presence making the experience more intense, more meaningful. And when it ultimately ended, as I slowly calmed and basked in the afterglow of my self-love, I felt my Master's love surrounding me as his hands caressed me, comforted me.

"I hope you enjoyed that cum," I heard softly in my ear, the familiar voice seeming distant, "because you won't cum again for quite some time."

"Yes, Master."

The scent of my sexuality seemed particularly pungent to my nose, adding to the headiness of the experience. The warmth and closeness of my Master made me feel loved and desired. The wetness trickling from my body made me feel incredibly naughty. And I cherished it all.

*****

I awoke in the middle of the night, naked as usual for sleeping. As if in a dream – likely because I was trapped in that hazy neverland between slumber and consciousness – I thought I heard the all-too-familiar male voice in my ear whispering: "Suck me."

I had no idea what time it was. I only knew that it was still quite dark, nary a hint of daylight gracing the bedroom. Yet, somehow, my body moved of its own accord, without any conscious acts instigated by my brain, pushing aside the covers and moving into position to comply with the softly-spoken command.

Without a doubt, it was far from the best fellation I had ever given. I never truly awoke, thus I had no chance to truly put my heart into my Master's gratification. He must have sensed it, because, much too soon for him to even come close to filling my mouth with his seed, he whispered simply, "That's enough for now," and tugged at my hair to compel me to again lay beside him.

He pulled the covers back over us both, draped an arm over me and cupped a breast, and kissed the back of my head. My Master squeezed my breast gently, and then I was lost to slumber.

*****

I awoke to my Master's kiss upon my lips. It took a few moments for my mind to truly return to full consciousness, but when it did, I began to eagerly return the kiss, my hands holding my Master's head in place above mine.

After the kiss, we simply held each other close, our naked bodies pressed snugly together underneath the covers, as was likely happening in countless other bedrooms across the Bay Area on that Sunday morning. Nothing needed to be said, so nothing was said – our communication was tactile, and even that was more than enough to remind each other of the deep love and respect and devotion which formed the foundation of our unique relationship.

But, eventually, his stomach rumbled, and just as we both began to giggle over that unexpected sound breaking the solemn quiet of our cuddle, my stomach responded in kind.

"Time for breakfast," my Master noted. "Why don't you go fix some scrambled eggs for us." The question issued like a command was a not-so-subtle reminder that for the day, I was his slave, to do as he ordered, to endure as he willed. "And put on one of your black thongs," he added as I rose reluctantly from the warm bed.

Wearing only the thong and my waist chain, I was soon fixing breakfast. I was barefoot and in the kitchen, but certainly – and fortunately – not pregnant... certainly the way my Master – and my big brother – wanted me.

Just as I was adding some diced ham to the eggs, he came into the kitchen and stepped up behind me. I did not need to see it to know what he was placing around my neck: the thin "Baby"-emblazoned collar. Then he wrapped his arms around my middle, pressing himself against my backside, and I noted happily that he wore only briefs, so that he was just as exposed as I was... although his chest was certainly not quite as socially interesting as mine.

"My baby sister and my loving slave," he whispered into my ear before sucking gently at the lobe. That I could fulfill both roles for him filled me with pride; that he could fulfill both complimentary roles for me filled me with desire.

After breakfast, my Master wanted something I did not expect: a bath. Specifically, he wanted me to bathe him. So, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I did. I took my time in bathing him as we chatted quietly. And when he finally rose up from the warm water, I dried him thoroughly, taking my time, ensuring his pleasure from the mundane act, and ultimately I helped him into his own thong, the same one he last wore during our Valentine's Day mini-vacation.

After that, we each spent time on our own preparing for the day; all that was "neglected" was the clothing. And when I was ready at last, I found my Master standing at the table, with several coils of white rope before him.

I knew what was in store for me next, and grinned in anticipation. The only questions were how he would apply the ropes to me, and whether I would be bound to something.

"Let's start simple," he said. Shortly afterward, I stood before my Master with my forearms lashed together behind my back. The position inherently caused my chest to be forced forward a little, and from the glances I noticed, he certainly appreciated the "extra view." Then he stepped up to me, his arms encircling my waist, and we kissed. It was a slow, respectful kiss, yet it was also a frustrating kiss in a way, because I could not return his gentle touches.

Additional rope was wound around my upper torso, framing my breasts nicely. My Master made sure to pull the rope up as much as possible into the soft undersides, a simple act which carried such significant meaning in a way, making me even more aware of my femininity. Once he had tied the ends of the rope in place, he took another rope of a much shorter length and used it to link the upper and lower bounds between my breasts, somewhat cinching them together. The confinement of the most visible signs of my sex made my sex feel warm and damp, and I smiled shyly as my Master tied the ends of the rope into a bow, as if my chest was a gift to be presented to a lucky recipient.

"Kneel."

I obeyed, purposefully being careful since I did not have the use of my hands and arms to brace me as I descended to the floor.

"Such expressive eyes," he commented as he took my chin in his hand and tipped my head upward. "But perhaps I can turn those into jealous eyes."

As I knelt by the table, my Master moved toward the small TV cart. He turned on the TV, turned on the DVD player, and picked up the remote before returning to me. Kneeling behind me, he pressed Play on the remote, then set the controller down beside us and enveloped me in his arms.

It was an adult DVD. After displaying the title on the screen for about five seconds, the action began. No impractical set-up, no foreplay – just straight to the fucking, with the camera on the floor underneath a Japanese babe's face as she was being taken roughly from behind. Scene after scene after scene passed in rapid succession, with one female body after another being plundered for the view of the unblinking eye. As the DVD played, my Master played with my body – sometimes pinching me, sometimes fondling me, sometimes biting me, sometimes fingering me, sometimes slapping me, always adoring me – raising my arousal and maintaining it at such a high level that my grunts and whimpers and moans essentially echoed those of the young women being reamed on the screen.

Without warning, my Master fiercely grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, instantly causing my body to arch, a yelp of surprised pain escaping my lips. "Cum, bitch, and you'll regret it!!!" he growled into my ear, slapping my right breast one more time to punctuate his warning.

And suddenly, I was bent forward, my face buried in the carpet, the wet crotch of my thong pulled aside. I shrieked from the forcefulness of his entry, from the sensation of being made so full so quickly. I cried out again and again as my Master rutted into me, pummeling my body hard and fast, clearly using me for his own pleasure, ultimately pouring his love inside me and filling my soul, then withdrawing and ordering me to kneel anew despite the painfulness of the position, making me watch for nearly another hour as one young woman after another was shown and heard succumbing to the delirium of primal pleasure, ensuring my sexual frustration as drops of white trickled onto the carpet beneath me.

"Such expressive, jealous eyes," my Master commented, gazing into my soul once the DVD had ended.

"Please, Master," I pleaded softly, knowing that was exactly what he wanted to hear. "Please..."

"You can't cum yet," he stated matter-of-factly. "It's not even lunchtime yet, and you're already begging. I like that!"

I could not help myself: I wailed sadly, wanting to cum not just for my own gratification, but also to show my desire, my love, for him, my big brother and my Master, so that he could once again see what no one else had ever witnessed.

*****

By the time the rope marks on my arms had faded, it was time for lunch, and we agreed to go to a small, nearby Chinese restaurant. I was not surprised when my Master informed me that I was to wear a skirt with nothing underneath; the rest of the outfit I could pick for myself.

The walk to the restaurant was not nearly as disturbing as the first time I had gone outside pantyless. Of course, this time, there was no wind, and it was also much warmer being mid-day in summer. There were few people out and about, since most of the students were gone, although one guy who passed us on the sidewalk did seem to be starting continually at my chest, making me wonder if my erect nipples were tenting my bra and tight ribbed tank top.

I received plenty of second and third and fourth glances at the restaurant, as I was still wearing the "Baby"-emblazoned collar. Had these people never before seen a slave wear a collar in public!?!?! I had to smile to myself as I wondered how these same people would react if the rope marks were still visible upon my arms.

On the way back to the apartment, we stopped by the house we would soon be able to call our home. Ms. Ovni had given us the keys already, even though we were not yet about to move in and actually live there, so we had easy access.

Once inside, as soon as the front door was closed, I was backed against the wall of the short entry corridor, my hands pinned above my head as my Master kissed me slowly, pressing his lengthening erection to me. Things progressed to the point where he was truly molesting me, using his tongue to rape my mouth, causing my body to drip and my heart to beat so hard and fast that it was ready to leap from within my chest into his. And when he finally dropped a hand to lift my skirt and pressed his knee against my weeping womanhood, I went over the edge, riding him, smearing my desire all over the denim he wore, gasping and squealing and clutching him as he continued to possess me with his hands...

Then he suddenly backed away from me and moved toward the stairs. "Crawl!" he barked over his shoulder at me, clearly expecting me to follow him. I was hot and bothered, and all I wanted was to be able to cum for him, but after a few seconds, my trembling body descended to the floor and began to crawl toward the staircase, my clothing somehow feeling quite constricting.

There were two bedrooms upstairs, one a little larger than the other. "This one's mine," he said flatly as if it was already a well-established fact published in an encyclopedia. I did not argue – after all, it seemed fitting that a Master in this situation would take the larger bedroom while the slave was resigned to the smaller bedroom.

...if she was to be granted a bedroom at all. She could have been ordered to live in a cage in the basement instead.

Both bedrooms were larger than the ones we currently had at the apartment, but both smaller than our bedrooms back east at our parents' house. As I waited on hands and knees at my Master's feet, I tried to imagine how his bedroom might be arranged and decorated, tried to imagine how it would feel to wake up here for the first time with a different set of four walls surrounding us.

"I just realized something," he noted aloud, dragging me away from my thoughts. "You're spending a lot of time on your knees today."

"Yes, Sir," I responded simply, still feeling somewhat breathless from the molestation and knee-invoked pleasure I had endured downstairs.

A few moments later, we went to what was to be my bedroom. Again, I tried to imagine what it would be like to wake up here with different walls around us.

Yet, instead of a futon or a true bed, I could only picture myself awakening in a small cage, curled up into a tight ball, naked save for my waist chain, shivering slightly in the cool morning air, locked within the metal confines as punishment.

"Stand and follow."

My Master turned and left the smaller bedroom, heading for the staircase. Carefully, I rose to my feet, then followed as ordered, my knees protesting a little. As I had suspected, my Master led me down to the basement, into the second room, the room which would almost certainly soon become our dedicated BDSM playroom.

"I want you topless, then hand me your bra."

With his arms folded across his chest, my Master watched me closely as I slowly removed my t-shirt and tossed it on the floor at his feet. I then removed my bra and handed it to him, wondering just what he had in mind.

"On your hands and knees."

Once again, I was on the floor, the cement floor chilling my hands and my knees. At his gesture, I crossed the foot or so of space between us and unzipped his jeans and carefully withdrew the forbidden phallus. Already half-erect, his manhood swelled to fullness within my mouth.

"Use a hand to play with yourself."

I did, continuing to pleasure my Master as I pleasured myself. His taste was wonderful, his scent intoxicating, his feel in my mouth thrilling. As I worked, his hands cradled my head, his fingers toyed with my hair, his love tangibly surrounded me like a cocoon, my bra always held against my face. And when he was ready, he shoved me away, walked around behind me, dropped to his knees, lifted my skirt, and once again took his pleasure from my willing, dripping, sisterly body, taking me hard and fast as I cried out loudly and clawed at the cement.