Twins in College Ch. 19

From the inside pocket of his heavy jacket, my Master produced the same "Baby" collar I had worn during our previous visit to this hotel. I smiled, reliving the moment when he had first placed that collar around my neck even as he placed it around my neck for the second time.

"On your stomach on the bed," I was instructed, and I moved to comply as my Master went to his small suitcase. I watched as he produced four leather cuffs connected to what appeared to be a four-way snap-clip system. I recalled having seen something like it previously, and it took me a moment to remember that I had seen it on the Web site of a San Francisco bondage supply shop, listed as a simple method to hogtie a slave.

Had my Master perhaps gone to that very shop without me?

Faster than I would have liked, I was essentially hogtied, with extremely limited movement of wrists and ankles – perhaps two inches at most. I felt stretched, my torso arched to accommodate the position. But then my Master retrieved something new: a classic red ball gag.

I was soon drooling onto the bedspread as my domineering twin sat beside me on the bed. He stroked my hair and caressed my taut body, and I closed my eyes and enjoyed his touches.

Amazingly, that was all we did for quite some time. I was petted and fondled, and my only response was to drool and occasionally whimper or sigh happily. It was embarrassing to drool, to essentially need a bib at my age, and it did bring a slight blush to my cheeks, but, overall, I enjoyed the restriction, even as my muscles ached and burned from being set into the same position for such a long period of time. And when I was released from my bonds, my entire body was treated to a loving massage, helping to ease my aches and warm my soul.

*****

After lunch in the hotel restaurant, we returned to our room. I was still wearing the "Baby" collar, and soon that and my tiny earrings were all I wore, as I stood proudly before my big brother, my Master, avidly awaiting his next instruction.

He approached me at last, and we held each other in a comfortable, warm embrace. I was becoming more and more accustomed to being naked while he was fully clothed, and in my mind it made me feel even more like a slave, my nudity allowing him easy access to my entire body for the inflicting of pleasure or the inflicting of pain.

"To think that my baby sister is willing to submit to me," he finally whispered, "that fills me with great pride, and honor. And that's just one of the reasons I love you." I simply kissed his cheek, not knowing how else to respond to his beautiful words.

"But now, I need to hurt you."

I looked into his eyes and smiled. I was suddenly more nervous than I had anticipated, even though I had been through a similar ordeal some two months previous to this.

Still, I wanted this. To some extent, Ineeded this. "Hurt me, Master," I requested. "Hurt me and use me, please."

We shared a kiss. It began softly and lovingly, but grew more heated, more needful. We were soon groping each other. I could feel the all-too-familiar manhood lengthening, solidifying; I was almost certain that he could feel the hardening points upon my breasts.

We were both breathless when my Master stepped away from me and sat upon bed, leaning back against the headboard. "Across my lap," he ordered, and I scrambled into position, my nervousness now greatly reduced, my breathing and heart rate still elevated from the heated embrace we had just shared.

He wasted no time in spanking me, and he did not even bother to start slowly. The sting of the first blow to my rear had barely registered in my brain before his hand befell me again. In the space of a few heartbeats, I was squirming across my Master's thighs, each blow stinging and warming my backside as he punished my ass harder and faster, harder and faster. I grunted, I groaned, I yelped, and I did not want the ordeal to stop. It hurt, yet I knew that my body was dripping upon my Master's denim-clad thighs.

"My dirty little slave loves being spanked, huh?!?" my domineering twin challenged me. "You are such a slut, a horny bitch who gets off on being kinky with her own big brother! And don't think I'm not aware of your pussy drooling on my legs, you damn slave!"

He continued to spank me and verbally abuse me. The way I squirmed kept bringing such pleasure to my clitoris that I was afraid I would climax upon him even as he was spanking me. I was crying out with almost every blow, definitely feeling the pain and the heat his hand was generating and wanting more.

But suddenly, he stopped. I was panting heavily between moans, still sliding my clitoris across my Master's thigh.

My mouth opened in a silence scream as a new, more intense pain graced my rear.Where did that paddle come from!?! I thought with panic.

He waited a few seconds, clearly allowing the new sensation to sink in for me, then he struck me again. I did not cry this time, but the pain was intense as the blow fell upon my spanking-reddened lower cheeks.

I was paddled again, and tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks.

Fortunately, my face was buried in the bed, for with the next painful strike, I screamed, and I simply could not stop screaming. I was aware of my Master's free hand gently scratching the back of my head as if I was a young kitten, but my senses were so acutely focused upon the descending paddle as it continued to beat me, punish me, hurt me.

Yet, through it all, I felt loved. My Master, my brother, loved me so much that it hurt me.

And I continued to scream into the bed even after the paddling had ended.

At last, when my vocalizations had finally subsided to simply loud whimpers, I felt my Master maneuvering me, and I was certainly in no condition to disallow it. He was soon on his back on the bed, and I was stretched out upon him, crying upon his shoulder and neck as his hands caressed my body, purposely avoiding my still-fiery ass.

"You did well, Vicki," he whispered again and again. "You did well."

The last of my tears were tumbling down my wet cheeks when I kissed him. Despite the painful experience which had just passed, despite the pain I still felt, our kiss was slow and loving, and sealed the bond between us.

*****

After the shower, I stepped out of the bathroom to find my Master awaiting me with a towel. He took his time carefully drying me, and it was so different from the activity which had taken place in this very same hotel room earlier in the afternoon.

Two acts of love, at completely different ends of the scale.

He was still fully clothed, although he had changed to another pair of jeans. He was properly dressed, whereas I wore only my earrings. Yet I did not feel awkward or embarrassed.

Ultimately, the towel was banished to the floor, and the embrace we shared was long and calming, chasing away the final remnants of discomfort in my lower cheeks.

"My beautiful baby sister," he said softly before placing a kiss at the center of my forehead.

I clutched him tightly, my head upon his shoulder. I just needed to hold him, needed to be held. And as we stood there, I was very aware of the nearly-tangible love filling our hotel room.

*****

My Master was still properly dressed and I was still properly naked, having only added the "Baby" collar following the shower. We sat together on the bed, both of us leaning back against the headboard, watching the hotel's porn channel.

Ever since I had first truly "seen" the female body through my big brother's eyes following one of my intramural volleyball matches the previous semester, I had more of an appreciation for the female form. As a beautiful college girl crossed campus, my eyes might track her, noting her curves, digesting the bounce of her hair and her breasts as she walked on long, proud, bare, well-toned legs. While my big brother and I had occasionally listened to sound files of women enjoying sex, I found myself becoming even more attuned to the sounds of a woman's passion.

We watched as a pair of young women tenderly touched and kissed upon a furry rug before an active fireplace. Both wore jeans and sweatshirts and socks, both had lengthy black hair tied back into a ponytail, and, judging from the sweet smiles and the sparkling eyes, both appeared to genuinely love each other.

"They truly are beautiful," I whispered absently as I leaned against my Master, an arm draped behind his neck.

"They are," he agreed, "and they certainly look like long-time lovers."

"Do they turn you on?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Two girls being intimate? Of course!" He patted my bare thigh. "But I would much prefer to watch a particular baby sister."

"Alone or with some other girl?"

"Yes," was my Master's immediate response, no hesitation required.

I could only laugh quietly at that. "Would you want to participate or simply watch?"

One of the beauties on the screen rolled the other to her back upon the carpet, maintaining lips-to-lips contact. "I'd be content either way," my Master replied honestly, "but unless the other girl was familiar with andveryaccepting of our relationship, I couldn't really touch you at all if I were to participate."

I had not considered that, but decided to turn the tables slightly. "In that case," I said, stroking his chest as I spoke, "we'll just first tie you to a chair or something to ensure that you can't touch me. How does that sound?"

His response was a kiss, with his hand moving from my thigh to my sex.

We watched as the two women on the screen took plenty of time in slowly undressing each other, constantly touching and kissing throughout the foreplay. Through several positions, they languidly masturbated and ate each other to several orgasms. And through the hour or so of this particular scene, my Master masturbated me, able to keep me on the edge until, as the scene finally ended and the two beauties on-screen reached a noisy climax together, he touched me in just the right places to grant me the release he had been denying me.

He held me through my post-orgasmic bliss, stroking me and caressing me as I trembled from the aftereffects and whimpered into his neck. The next scene played, another slowly-progressing lesbian scene between two exotic beauties, but neither of us paid the scene much attention. Instead, we simply cuddled, treasuring the loving moment together.

*****

We returned from dinner in Little Tokyo and we both knew: It was time to exchange gifts. Minutes later, we sat on the bed, and I gave my Master, my big brother, my Valentine's Day gift to him.

He smiled as he read the card and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. Then he carefully opened the red-and-white heart-print box and lifted out the item inside. He peeled back the bubble wrap, and gave a soft gasp of pleasant surprise.

He held in his hands a framed picture of me in a full wedding dress, holding a bouquet of red roses and smiling sweetly at the camera, at him.

"It's wonderful," he breathed, his fingers stroking the glass covering my face in the photo. "It's perfect."

The hug he gave me was fierce and heartfelt. I had known my big brother would truly adore this particular gift. Now, I knew that it was definitely worth the price to rent the wedding dress and buy the roses and pay all the fees associated with the photo shoot and the framing.

"I know we sometimes say we're already just like husband and wife," I whispered into his ear, "so perhaps this will bring us one step closer to being an actual married couple."

The kiss was long and loving, just as heartfelt as the hugs both before and afterward. "My sweetest baby sister," he whispered into my ear. "I love you so, so much!"

We held each other for a long, long time before I was handed my Valentine's Day gift. From its shape and size, it was clearly jewelry, most likely a necklace, which I found slightly odd given that I very rarely ever wear jewelry other than my tiny hoop earrings.

I slipped the card from its red envelope. "I love to make love to you..." the front read, and inside: "...but I love to love you even more."

"I feel the same," I said with a smile, and kissed his cheek, leaving behind a slight impression of my red-painted lips.

I then unwrapped the gift, and it was indeed a small, elongated jewelry box. Upon opening it, however, I was a bit surprised that it was not a necklace. I lifted it out of the jewelry box, and smiled at the thoughtfulness and symbolism.

My mind flashed back to a discussion we had had in bed late one night shortly after our end-of-semester mini-vacation. My big brother had asked me if I were to become his full-time slave how I would like to be constantly reminded of my status. I had replied that a belly chain would be best: I would always feel it surrounding me to remind me that I belonged to him, yet it would not carry the social stigma which would call attention to either me or our illicit relationship.

I gazed fondly upon the belly chain and its detachable charms: a heart, a crescent moon, a snowflake, and a pair of handcuffs.

I hugged my big brother and Master fiercely. "Thank you!" I whispered repeatedly between kisses to his neck and cheek. He simply laughed and held me, clearly glad that I liked his gift so much.

"While I would be honored to 'collar' you with the belly chain," my Master finally said, looking sincerely into my eyes, "it's not a decision to be taken lightly. Perhaps we're still far too early in our BDSM exploration to truly take this step. But I at least wanted you to have it, perhaps as a precursor to things to come."

I nodded. "I know exactly what to do with it until it's time to fully submit to you," I said.

Soon, we stood and put away the gifts. Then we embraced once again, Valentine's Day having turned from harsh love to soft love between us.

"Wait here, big brother," I finally whispered. "I want to go prepare for you."

"You don't need to prepare anything for me," he whispered, fingering the spaghetti strap on my little black dress.

I simply lifted his hand away from my shoulder. "Please," I pleaded, "I want to do this for you."

With a knowing smile, he nodded, giving me one more kiss to the forehead.

When I emerged from the bathroom, my hair was tied back into a ponytail, my lips had been painted a prominent deep red, and I wore a Wonder Woman cami and panty outfit. Standing at the table and lighting a pair of candles, my big brother was wearing only the thong he had worn on our previous visit here. I smiled upon seeing my forbidden lover in such scant clothing, and for just a moment felt a big smug in the fact that, for once, I wore more clothing than him.

He apparently had not heard me open the bathroom door, so I turned off the lights of our hotel room. That certainly attracted my big brother's attention, as he looked up. His eyes grew big and a smile stretched practically from ear to ear once he saw me.

"From baby sister to Wonder Woman!" he commented with a jubilant laugh. "I can just imagine the roleplay possibilities here!"

I was very quickly in my big brother's arms again, imagining myself in this very outfit, bound to a tree in a torrential rainstorm, struggling furiously, playing the role of a captured superheroine. But those thoughts were dispelled as I felt a familiar lengthening and hardening against me.

"You're getting hard, you naughty boy," I whispered. "Does your baby sister turn you on? Or is it the thought of making love to Wonder Woman that has you so excited?"

His hands seized my head and he kissed me, his tongue instantly penetrating me, his meaty manhood attempting to do the same via my navel. I surrendered my mouth to him, allowing my big brother to make love to my mouth as I closed my lips around his thrusting tongue. Gripping his exposed lower cheeks, I held him close, wiggling slightly from side to side across the forbidden phallus.

Soon, I was able to wrest my head from the formidable grip. Despite gasping somewhat for air, I kissed him repeatedly, leaving a trail of red imprints from his lips to his chin to his neck to his shoulder and down his chest and stomach until I finally knelt before him.

Caressing my big brother's sex through the pouch of his thong, I looked up in the candlelight at his sweet face. "Feed me your love," I pleaded softly. "Feed your baby sister."

With his hands caressing my head, I revealed the prize, lowering the thong. It could have simply been my perception on this particular night, but the hearty erection appeared to be even longer and slightly wider than ever before, pulsing with a superb power. Like my own body, his body was dripping, and I brushed a fingertip across the tip of his manhood to collect some of his illicit love, then brought it to my lips, tasting the sweetness and closing my eyes to better savor the moment.

"Feed me," I pleaded again, and I accepted my big brother's powerful erection into my eager mouth.

My eyes still closed, virtually all my senses were highly attuned to the action taking place in my mouth. Kneeling in the position of submission before my big brother with my lips wrapped snugly around his meaty manhood felt right, natural, perfect. Keeping my eyes closed, I reveled in the feel of his familiar hands in my hair, and my heart swelled as he guided my head so he could make love to my mouth.

"Sweet Vicki," I heard my big brother whisper from above me. "Look up at me."

I opened my eyes and obeyed, noting the flame of love behind his eyes. "You mean so much to me," he whispered, "that I can't imagine my life without you. I love you, Vicki, I truly love you."

I responded by squeezing my big brother's lower cheeks and twirling my tongue around his invading erection. I thought I felt him shudder slightly, and I definitely saw him smile. Then I set myself to the task of truly making love to him with my mouth, bobbing my head upon the forbidden phallus as my head was held and caressed sweetly.

Slowly, the pace of my movements increased, but our collective desire increased at least twice as quickly. It was such a thrill to hear my big brother's breathing increasing in both volume and pace. And I realized that the overall situation had caused my body to moisten the panty of my Wonder Woman outfit.

Finally at his breaking point, I was pushed away, my mouth suddenly emptied. "Feed me!" I pleaded as he wrapped a hand around his angry erection and pumped quickly. I closed my eyes and leaned forward with my mouth open as wide as possible, and nary a second later, I received my Valentine's Day dessert and ingested the sweetness once my big brother had no more to feed me.

Dropping to his knees, he held me, his body trembling subtly following his climax. I was proud to be the one to bring such pleasure to him, and honored that he trusted me enough to make himself so vulnerable to me as I provided that pleasure.

"You've been eating a lot of sugar lately," I finally commented. "Your incestuous love tastes even sweeter than usual."

We laughed for a few moments before my big brother nudged me to my back upon the floor. Straddling my legs, he gazed upon me, showing absolutely no shame in simply looking at me as he returned his thong to its socially-acceptable position, and I felt absolutely no shame in being viewed with a mixture of love and lust by my own big brother.

Reaching forward, I took my forbidden lover's hand and placed it upon my chest. We shared a smile and a loving gaze as his other hand joined its counterpart upon my body. As I caressed his thighs, he gently manipulated my breasts, his touches sending waves of desire emanating outward from each feminine swell. "So different," I whispered absently.