Twins in College

Since Halloween was on a Tuesday, the neighborhood's official trick-or-treating time was scheduled for Sunday October 29, to provide for maximum safety for the many young children going from door to door in the quest for candy.

After several weeks of indecision, my big brother and I finally agreed upon a scenario: I would be a naughty schoolgirl, and he would be the strict disciplinarian principal. I already had everything I needed, as did he, so there was no reason to go out and buy any costumes, just candy.

I purposely waited until the day before the event to buy the candy, and I bought plenty of it. I secretly hoped that it would all be gone by evening the following day, so that I would not be tempted to eat it all myself.

Then again, I told myself, I could also feed any leftover candy to my big brother and Master, and make his seed taste even sweeter than usual!

I looked forward to the trick-or-treating. There is something almost magical about seeing all the little kids in their costumes.

*****

Looking in the mirror, I quite liked the image I saw. The white blouse allowed a semi-transparent view of my black bra, and the red plaid tie helped draw my eyes to the black straining against the white. The bottom of my blouse was tied into a know to allow the garment to show off my stomach. The red plaid pleated miniskirt showed off my legs quite well, but it was long enough to hide my black thong. The knee-high white socks also drew attention to my legs. Brown Mary Janes, pigtails, my old black glasses, and my belly chain (my "collar") completed my naughty look.

I went downstairs and found my big brother wearing his suit and his favorite black Mickey Mouse tie. He looked quite impressive, very much the counterpoint to the naughty image I wanted to portray for our visitors. And from the way he smiled upon seeing me descend the stairs, I knew that I had succeeded in achieving my desired reaction.

"Let's make you look like an even naughtier schoolgirl," he suggested, stepping toward me. Loosening the red plaid tie, he released several of the top buttons of my blouse, providing a peak of my cleavage. His smile meant that he had achieved the desired result with me, and the hug we shared moments later confirmed his desire as I felt it grow against me.

"Stay here," he said, then walked away, returning with the yardstick, the one purchase we had to make in order to provide more realism to the scenario we intended to present for our visitors. I knew what was about to come, and eagerly accepted the ten strikes with the yardstick, enjoying the warmth and the pain generated across my lower cheeks.

In time, the trick-or-treaters began to arrive. My big brother and Master stood behind he, his presence unmistakable as he loudly and repeatedly threatened to spank me with the yardstick unless I handed out all the candy faster and faster. For my part, I played the nervous schoolgirl, handing out candy as the children and their older relatives came by the house, and secretly reveling in the not-so-discrete glances of the teenage boys and many of the men (and some of the women). I felt desired, sexy, and while I maintained the role of the nervous schoolgirl, I felt wonderful.

When the trick-or-treating finally ended, my Master maintained his role. "Close the door, young lady." I did and turned to face him, maintaining my role as well, shuffling my feet nervously as I looked down at his feet, fidgeting with my hands.

He stunned me by moving to my side and quickly and firmly grabbing my upper left arm. Before I could react, the yardstick smacked my backside. I hissed through my teeth at the impact, even though I had known that the yardstick would eventually be used to hurt me.

"Such a naughty schoolgirl," he admonished me, "not wearing your uniform properly, especially with those top buttons undone and showing off your cleavage." He spanked me again with the yardstick, then turned me to face him and drew me close, hugging me with his left arm. Instinctively, I held him tightly, secretly wishing he would beat me again with the yardstick instead of simply sliding it across my ass. I felt him growing hard against me, and knew that my beating was soon to come.

When the yardstick did finally strike me again, I gasped aloud, my eyes closed to savor the sting. "Beat me, Master," I pleaded with a whisper, falling out of my role.

He did. He honored my request, adding numerous strips of discomfort to my existence. His actions caused me to move against him, against his hearty erection. My hands moved to his ass, clutching him, squeezing him, and thoroughly enjoying my faked discipline. He never truly struck me hard, nothing truly painful, but it was enough to satisfy my desire, my need, especially since it had been over a week since he had last beaten or spanked me.

By the time the yardstick was finally cast aside, I was breathing hard, clutching my Master tightly, still squirming against his long, hard erection. He held me close, his love enveloping me, filling me, protecting me.

*****

That night, as we cuddled nude in bed after making love, we chatted about the trick-or-treating, the kids' costumes, the subtle and not-so-subtle glances I had received. We eventually compared it to Halloween 2005, when we had dressed like Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Kamen and decorated our apartment with a Sailor Moon theme. While Halloween 2005 had been better sexually, Halloween 2006 was better in that, if we so chose, we could dress in the same outfits and essentially take our roleplay elsewhere, including in public.

I dreamed of that, of being a naughty schoolgirl on a field trip, needing to be disciplined before returning to the school...