Twins in College

We had traded small gifts in the morning before heading off to our respective colleges for classes, so I thoroughly expected that the evening would simply be about us dressing nicer than usual and going out to dinner at a nicer restaurant than usual.

When I returned from my classes on Valentine's Day, the house was empty. I knew that my big brother and Master would return about an hour behind me due to his class schedule, so I went into action to surprise my forbidden lover.

I knew that I did not have the time to fully shower and wash my hair and paint my nails. I had at least painted my nails the previous evening, so that part was completed. But I did do something which I knew would truly shock my big brother, for it also surprised me.

For the first time since I could remember, I went to my bedroom closet, and actually selected a dress -- specifically, the dark purple velvet dress which clasped my body so firmly that it was truly a second skin.

Granted, I would almost always wear a skirt when working at the video store, and would sometimes wear a skirt to class. While I owned heels, I rarely ever wore them. This time, in addition to the velvet dress, I selected a pair of shiny black heels.

In short, I would truly look stereotypically feminine.

I knew that my big brother would have his hands on me all evening, which was exactly what I wanted! Even as I prepared for the evening, I kept caressing the soft velvet myself, enjoying its sensual feel and admiring how well it showed off my graceful curves.

Eventually, I was ready. I sat on the sofa, my legs crossed in ladylike fashion for once, the heels somewhat uncomfortable due to the lack of wear yet confining my feet in a way which made me think of being hindered, being restricted, being bound. As I watched the local news, my hands kept caressing the velvet, especially the velvet covering my breasts, causing the crotch of my thong to dampen and add my natural scent to the hint of perfume I had added to each wrist. My mind wandered, and I imagined my red-painted lips and my red-tipped fingers wrapping around the forbidden phallus as was fed an eternal love...

I could well have showered and washed my hair, for my big brother was over an hour late coming home, but when he did finally arrive, he was beaming, even before his eyes befell me.

"Oh my...!" he exclaimed, clearly stunned to see me in a dress, and in the velvet dress in particular. "Vicki, you're so elegant!"

I simply could not be mad at him, even though he was so late without explanation. I stood and approached him, feeling slightly wobbly due to the heels, and his arms wrapped around me so tightly that I knew he would be touching me all evening long. His desire was evident, solidifying and lengthening between us as his hands roamed my back, and our lips fused together.

When we at last stepped back from each other, I was breathless, heady with love, my heartbeat definitely accelerated. The embrace had affected my big brother as well, his nostrils flaring slightly in his quest for oxygen.

"Come," he finally said, taking me by the hand and leading me to the front porch.

Parked on the street in front of the house was a Mitsubishi Eclipse. It was pristine, the glow of the nearby streetlamps reflecting perfectly off the polished silver.

"It has all of fifteen miles on it," he proclaimed, "and it's now ours."

I shrieked with delight, flinging myself against my big brother once again. As we were standing on the front porch, his hands were much more chaste upon me, but it was clear that he was also excited at having the car.

"And I have one more surprise for you," he whispered into my ear, "but it'll wait until after dinner. I need to go get changed."

He gave me the keys and I practically glided to the Eclipse. I fawned over it, sat inside it, inhaled the new car scent, and I was still giddy when he finally returned, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Drive," he instructed, and, grinning like a fool, I was more than happy to obey my Master.

*****

After dinner, I was the passenger, a massive smile seemingly tattooed to my face as we drove through the Berkeley night. My big brother kept a hand upon my velvet-covered left thigh, and I secretly thanked every deity I knew that he had bought a car with automatic transmission so that his hand remained upon me -- just as it had throughout dinner.

"I have one more surprise for you," he said quietly as he turned off Solano Avenue and headed into a residential area.

Two blocks later, he parked the car in the driveway of a two-story house with blue siding and an attached garage. I was confused as to why he was stopping here, especially since there were no lights on in the house and there were plenty of parking spaces on the street around us.

"Open the glove compartment," he instructed, turning on the interior light of the car.

I did as instructed, finding a pink envelope with what was clearly a greeting card inside. The card itself was simple: "A note of love for you on this special Valentine's Day."

Inside, however, the card was blank, with a key taped to where an inside message would usually be printed.

It took me a moment to truly understand the significance of the key and of the location. "You mean this house is ours?" I asked, the disbelief evident even to my own ears.

"This house is ours," he confirmed, beaming once again, "a place to truly call our own."

The house was no larger than the house we were renting, and was actually a similar configuration inside, only with more storage space, smaller windows, and a larger hot water heater. Two window-unit air conditioners were stored in the basement, presumably for those very few summer nights when we might need the units to allow us to sleep. With the exception of a stove, refrigerator, washer, and dryer -- all brand new -- the house was unfurnished. The floors were all covered with an off-white tile, including the basement floor. The front porch was so tiny that it was not even noteworthy, but the back porch was large enough for a few chairs, and looked out upon a small yard lined with manicured shrubs.

But best of all, it was our house.

The basement also had a "front room" and a "back room." As we stood in the back room, we decided that it would become our new dungeon, but that we would not destroy the place by placing so many eye bolts in the walls and the ceiling as previous tenants had done at our current residence. As we stood at the center of the back room, my Master behind me with his hands upon my stomach, I could almost see myself, naked, kneeling upon the floor, a spreader bar connecting my ankle cuffs, a penis gag filling my mouth, weighted clamps upon my nipples, a blindfold over my eyes, chains dangling from a lone bolt in the ceiling to ensure my cuffed wrists were raised high above my head, my hair streaked with my Master's illicit love.

"Just think of the fun to be had in here," he whispered into my ear, a hand slowly sliding up the sensual front of my dress. "If we had a rack, right in the center of the room here, right where we're standing..."

I could definitely picture it: A strong oak rack with thick heavy chains affixed to wide leather cuffs. I could see myself upon it, my limbs stretched tight, tears spilling from my eyes, my face contorted with pain, my jaw quivering...

"Just think of how beautiful you would look, naked on the rack, your limbs pulled taut, perhaps with a vibrator inside you to help counteract the pain if you had been a good slave recently..."

His hand finally reached my chest, roughly seizing a breast through bra and dress. I moaned softly at my loving Master's touch, pressing my chest more fully into his hand.

"I could simply leave you like that, not even touching you, not even using a crop or a cane or a whip. You'd be hurting, and we both know you'd be enjoying it. And with the vibrator working inside you, you'd also be wet, your hips writhing in reaction to the pleasure within you, a contrast of pleasure and pain..."

Both hands were roughly groping my breasts, squeezing and pulling. My fingers interlaced behind his neck, I willingly made myself vulnerable to my Master's touches, my body moving of its own accord against him in reaction to the work of his hands.

"Hurt me, Master," I pleaded quietly with breathy voice. "They say, 'You always hurt the one you love.' Love me, Master. Love me hard for Valentine's Day, please..."

"My baby sister is so damn kinky," he laughed lowly into my ear, squeezing my breasts even harder to better emphasize his words. "But that's okay, because I like to see you hurting for me. I enjoy hurting you, baby sister. I love hearing your cries and watching you fighting your bonds."

"Yes, Master," I whispered in acknowledgement.

He hurt me with his love for me. Since it was February 14, he applied his belt to my backside fourteen times in each room of the basement, in the kitchen, in the living room, in the entryway, in the bathroom, in each bedroom, and in the garage: 126 times in all, and I had to keep count for him. By the time he had finished with me, tears were streaming down my face, causing my make-up to smear and run, but I was smiling, even though it hurt to sit as he drove us back to the rented house.

...back to where he bent me over the kitchen table and made love to me, his body continually slapping against my still-aching cheeks, a hand pulling my hair just hard enough for the pain to be erotic, his other hand playing with my clitoris to cause me to repeatedly douse him with my eternal love, my voice ringing out with pride even after he had filled my soul.

As we cuddled that night in bed, I had to ask: "Will we get a rack for the new dungeon, Master?"

He was silent for quite some time. "We could certainly afford it, of course, but I don't know. If we had a rack, I might be tempted to leave you there, aching and hurting for hours at a time."

We both laughed softly, for we both knew that he would never leave me that long in bondage -- certainly not in an earthquake-prone area, and definitely not on my own. I hugged him close, hoping that we would eventually buy a rack, that I would be stretched painfully for him, perhaps even as he forced himself inside me and used my body and my pain for his illicit gratification.

I hoped that a rack would be his gift to me for Valentine's Day 2008, which would mean that in the coming year, I would need to be the best slave possible for him.