Twins in College Ch. 19

"Different from what?"

"Different from being spanked and paddled and bound earlier, although I found a strange pleasure in all that as well, even when I was screaming and crying from the pain."

He seemed to think about that for a moment, then moved off me. "Come, Wonder Woman," he said, taking my hand and helping me to stand with him.

"Is this beautiful young superheroine going to be restrained somehow and be forced to fight her bonds?" I asked with a smile, batting my eyes at my domineering twin.

"'This beautiful young superheroine' is indeed going to be restrained," he replied, "but I highly doubt that she'll be fighting her bonds."

Moments later, a fur-lined leather blindfold was placed over my eyes, robbing me of vision but enhancing every other sense to compensate for that exquisite loss. Over the next few minutes, my loving Master stood behind me and fondled my breasts, pausing a few times to pluck at my nipples through the thin garment, playing my hardened nubs as if they were violin strings. His handling of my body was affecting us both: The telltale warmth and wetness grew within the base of my torso as the telltale lengthening and hardening grew between us.

"I want to feel you inside me," I admitted softly, breathily.

"Not quite yet, slave," he responded. "I haven't even used the ropes yet."

A few seconds later, I stood alone as my Master moved across the hotel room. I heard him rummaging, then shortly after that sound ceased, I felt his hand upon my shoulder, turning me around to face him.

"Wonder Woman blindfolded," he thought aloud. "I don't recall ever seeing that onSuper Friends when Cartoon Network was airing it several years ago."

I smiled. "It was probably in an episode considered to be too racy for television. It's still locked away in a studio vault somewhere."

I received a playful slap to the chest for that comment, and my smile grew into a grin.

My grin faded as I was turned around again.

Slowly, my Master wound rope around me, pinning my upper arms to my torso while also creating breast bondage. He soon created a sturdy knot behind me and brought the rope up over my left shoulder, winding it through the horizontal ropes above and below my breasts, pulling tightly to securely cinch everything together, then brought the remaining rope up over my right shoulder to tie the ends at my back. The cinching between my breasts was certainly confining, but in a very good way, although it did cause my top to scrunch up a bit.

I was turned around again, and I knew without even needing to verify it visually that my Master was scrutinizing his handiwork. He clearly noticed how the cami had bunched up during the binding process, for he tugged gently here and there several times.

"Quite worthy of a picture," he commented at last. "Too bad we don't have a camera with us."

"Who would process the pictures for us?" I asked. "My being bound like this falls into the realm of sex, which cannot be processed by a mainstream company, especially not a one-hour place that probably has part of its processing machinery in plain public view."

I thought I heard my Master shrug. "Then we need to invest in a digital camera."

I filed that suggestion for later consideration as a potential birthday gift.

"It's too bad that isn't a gold rope," he commented. "Imagine the picture that could be posted on the Internet... Wonder Woman captured and bound with her own rope!"

I had to laugh at that comment, but was suddenly silenced by his mouth upon mine, his hands upon my chest, squeezing my confined breasts. While I still had the free use of my lower arms, I held him close, gently scratching at his back.

He finally stepped away. "Next, the forearms."

I was soon turned around again and instructed to bring my forearms together behind my back, an elbow in each upturned palm. I could not quite grip each elbow, but the position was good enough for my Master's intentions. Starting near my left elbow, a new rope was wrapped around both forearms, slowly cocooning them as he progressed toward my right elbow. The remaining rope was wrapped around my waist, run through several of the loops binding my forearms together, and tied off well away from potential prying fingers.

I tested the ropework, and found that I had at most an inch of movement available to me, and that motion would cause the rope to dig into my lower stomach.

My Master gripped my shoulders and placed his lips directly against my right ear. "Just think how vulnerable you are now," he said quietly. "I could beat your chest until it turned as red as a cherry, and you couldn't cover yourself to protect those beautiful mounds. You may be able to run, but since you're blindfolded, you wouldn't know where to go to escape if necessary; I doubt you could even find your way to the door of our hotel room right now if you had to.

"In fact," he said, some levity returning to his voice, "I want you to go to the door. Do you know where it is? You have thirty seconds to find it. If you can press yourself against the door, I'll reward you by buying that black dress you showed me recently on the Victoria's Secret Web site."

That was indeed incentive, but he was right: I had no clue of my orientation in the hotel room. I knew that I was near the bed; I remembered that from those final seconds before I had been robbed of vision. I could not just reach out with my hands and essentially "feel" my way to the door, because he had so thoughtfully bound my arms and rendered them thoroughly useless. With the exception of the bathroom, the entire hotel room was carpeted, so I could not use a change of floor covering to estimate my location in relation to the door.

"Thirty... Twenty-nine..."

I turned, took a few tentative steps, and my left thigh brushed against the king-size bed. I stopped, taking a precious second to try to remember: Was I positioned between the bed and the table, or between the bed and the bathroom wall?

"Twenty-two..."

I turned around – at least, I hoped that it was a 180-degree turn, since I had no visual reference points for verification – and took a few tentative steps forward. Since I did not bump into anything, I took a larger step forward, then a larger step forward, and bumped into a wall.

"Sixteen..."

I knew that it was a lost cause, that I would not be the recipient of a Victoria's Secret dress anytime soon. Still, I wanted to figure out this challenge. And, admittedly, I wanted to put on a "show" for my Master. I turned, took a few tentative steps forward, and bumped into another wall.

I finally knew where I was in the hotel room: I was between the bed and the bathroom wall, facing the wall shared with another hotel room. The bed was to my left, the bathroom wall was to my right, and I was probably just two steps from the junction of the two walls.

"Eleven..."

I turned, stepped forward, and bumped into the bathroom wall. I turned so that my left side was against that wall and slowly made my way forward. When I reached the end of the wall, I knew I needed to turn left.

"Four..."

I turned left and took several large steps, finally bumping into the door. I could feel one of the required signs – probably the emergency escape plan sign posted on the back of the door – against my nose, and I smiled to myself.

"Zero. Congratulations, slave, you just earned yourself an elegant, sexy, and somewhat revealing Victoria's Secret dress. Now come to me."

I turned around and approached the encouraging voice, moving slowly. Soon, I was in a warm embrace that I unfortunately could not return, but I was at least able to share in the delightful accompanying kiss.

"And now, a very different reward," he announced. He maneuvered me until my legs were against the bed, then bent me over. I knew what was coming next, and eagerly parted my feet.

I did not need to wait very long before I felt the familiar fingers pulling aside the dampened crotch of my panty. His fingers stroked my womanhood, drawing out the nectar within, brushing the small nub that sent currents of passion coursing throughout my body. He played me once again, slowly raising my level of desire. My cheek pressed against the bed, I whimpered softly as I moved against his hand, somewhat frustrated the my bonds would not permit me to reach back and grab his solid erection and force him to violate me instead of simply molesting me.

When he did finally enter me, however, it was definitely worth the wait. I cried out softly at the initial entry, enjoying the illicit feeling of my vagina being spread apart to accommodate his invading manhood.

He bent over me, his weight balanced precariously upon my bound forearms, and whispered into my ear, "Shall I make love to you, or would you prefer for me to rape you?"

The word "rape," while usually evoking a young woman's worst nightmare, seemed perfect to my twisted mind. After all, I was bent over a bed, my weeping sex filled by an incestuous anatomy on a day devoted to love even though almost no one in society would ever condone the love I felt for the person who was violating my body.

"Rape me."

He did.

*****

Even after the long bubble bath together, as my big brother applied the massage oil to my naked body quite some time later, I was still a bit sore. As we watched theSailor Moon S film (from the DVD he had brought with him – had he known in advance that there would be a new TV with a built-in DVD player in our hotel room?), my mind recalled how the ropes had become even more confining as my body had lurched and twisted from his sexual onslaught. I remembered the pinching of the ropes, especially around my breasts. I thought of the pain as he had spanked me hard and yanked on my ponytail. And my ears could still hear my screams as one climax after another had been forced upon me; I could still hear my joyful sobs at the culmination of the intense experience as the incestuous seed practically poured as if from a hose into my accepting body.

I looked at the digital clock built into the television. It was still officially Valentine's Day. Despite all the day's activities, despite the fatigue I felt, there was still time to honor this special day with this special person.

Sometimes, as often occurs between twins, my big brother knows exactly what I am thinking. This was one of those times, for he gently rolled me to my back, which caused my head to tip over the foot of the bed. I initially thought that he simply wanted to massage the oil into my chest, especially since he is a self-admitted "breast man" (and unashamedly so), but he wiped his hands on the bedspread, parted my legs, and took a position between my thighs. He lapped at my sex, holding apart my labia to allow his tongue maximum access to pleasure me. And as I faintly heard Luna delighting in her transformation, I vocalized my delight in the action between my thighs. But it was my big brother's fingers pinching my right nipple that was the key to releasing the torrent of passion which bathed his face with my love. As I calmed with the blood pooling in my head, he suckled at the same nipple, his hand cupping my sex and gently squeezing me.

When I looked at the television again, the film had ended, as had Valentine's Day, and while the day devoted to love had not ended with the same intensity as it had begun, I had never felt closer to my big brother than I did at that very moment.

*****

The scent of our passionate stay lingered in the hotel room, and I simply had to smile at the memories. Standing at the window one final time, I looked out across San Francisco, admiring the view one more time.

"Ready?" my big brother asked.

"Sure," I replied. Then, just before I turned away from the window, I noticed my bra and thong from Monday night peeking out from behind the right curtain. I hesitated, then simply left them there. If the cleaning crew missed them, then perhaps the next person or couple to stay in this room would find them and be able to sense the adventures those garments had "witnessed" here.

It was with great sadness that we stepped out of the hotel, and back into reality.

*****

Upon returning to our apartment, I immediately went to the kitchen, to the toolbox underneath the sink, and retrieved the adhesive cable clips. I took two of them with me to my bedroom, and, in much the same way I had mounted one of my thongs on the wall in my big brother's bedroom about four months earlier, I mounted the belly chain, with only the handcuffs charm attached.

That evening, my big brother and I planned to sleep in my bed. When he entered my bedroom and saw his gift to me upon the wall above my desk, he smiled his approval. He was already fully nude, so I had him sit on the bed, and I knelt before him, using my hands and my mouth to make love to his forbidden phallus as his eyes kept shifting from me to the belly chain upon the wall.

"You may or may not truly become my full-time slave," he said softly as he brushed my hair away from my face, "but you will always be my baby sister, and I will always love you and cherish you."

I lifted my head, allowing his male anatomy to slip past my lips. Looking deep into his eyes, I simply whispered, "I'll hold you to it."