One Year at a Time
-- by jessicablank

Everybody stared at the two gorgeous blonde women strolling
casually along the beach.  Not because they were holding hands. 
It's not that unusual for women to hold hands when they're
walking together, especially when they're friends, or -- like
these two -- sisters.  Not because they were beautiful.  Though
they were beautiful -- both in their early twenties, skin so
tight and smooth, taught bellies, breasts high and firm, with
just a hint of a jiggle as they walked.  Not even because they
were rich and famous.  Though they were rich -- and, therefore,
at least just a little bit famous.

No, it was because they were twins.  Identical, in every feature.
 Their hair, their eyes, the shapes of their bodies.  They even
walked in unison -- left foot, a bit of a pause, right foot, a
tilt of the hips.  Dressed in identical thongs -- bottoms only,
as this was a tops-optional beach on the Mediterranean -- just
little wisps of shimmering, sky blue cloth.  They presented such
a perfect double image that some people who wore glasses, took
them off and checked, to make sure nothing was out of alignment.

Yet there was something...  Was the one twin's thong just a
little bit tighter?  Outlining the lips of her barely-hidden
pussy just a little more than her sister's?  Her gaze, a little
more straight-ahead and unfocused? -- while her sister's
attention wandered from the warm ocean, to the sand, to the
people ahead, to the children playing, to her twin's face, then
out to the horizon.

With twins, they say, there is always a dominant one -- the
leader, that the other twin goes along with, agrees to, matches.
Often, it's the firstborn of the two -- but not always.  With
Cindy and Linda, this was true -- but not for the usual reasons.

They continued their walk, at a leisurely pace, the late
afternoon sun at their backs.  With every step, Cindy's tight
thong tugged on the hidden circlet that ringed her clitoris. 
Left foot, a bit of a pause, right foot, a tilt of the hips. 
Tug... pause... tug... a rub against the cloth of her thong.  So
gentle.  So impossible to ignore.  The little marble sewn into
the inside of the back of her thong pressed against her anus,
teasing with every step.  Tap, a bit of a pause, tap, glide.  So
impossible to think.  Just follow her sister Linda's steps, let
her hand gently guide their direction.  The shimmering blue cloth
disguised the spot of wetness continually dribbling from her
pussy.  Her nipples were taut, jutting out, continually aching. 
So were Linda's nipples -- but the cause was different.

Linda guided her twin as they walked along the edge of the water,
listening to the barely-suppressed panting that was Cindy's
breathing.  She knew that with every step, every shift of
position, Cindy was being stimulated repeatedly, relentlessly. 
Linda looked around, enjoying the delightful view of the sky, the
ocean, the nearly-naked bodies -- many beautiful, many not so
beautiful.  She knew people stared at them.  It excited her. 
Even more exciting that they had no idea of the power she held
over Cindy.  The power they agreed would last a year.  And that
year was coming to an end.

They reached the gate to the private stairway, leading up to
their beach house.  Linda let go of Cindy's hand, and unhooked
the tiny key ring attached to the right strap of her own thong. 
She opened the gate, led the panting Cindy through, then closed
and locked the gate.  Step by gentle step, they ascended the long
stairway, all of wood painted a light blue, but weathered by
years in the sun and wind.  At the top, Linda unlocked the door,
again led Cindy through, closed and locked the door.

Once inside, Cindy immediately dropped to the floor on her hands
and knees, and crawled alongside her sister.  Her eyes were still
unfocused, her mind barely aware of where she was -- only that
she was next to her sister.  Her mistress.  Her owner.

Poor little rich girls, Cindy and Linda.  Daddy passed away when
they were only two, not even a memory in their heads, known only
by his appearance in the family photos, and the big portrait
hanging over the fireplace mantle back home, in the family
mansion.  Mama had no time for them, being always away on some
trip, whether for one of her many charitable causes or just on a
vacation.  Taking babies along would have been inconvenient.  And
by the time the girls were older, Mama had not acquired the habit
of thinking about them as traveling companions.  Raised by
nannies, educated at boarding schools, as the girls entered
adulthood they were entirely independent of all family ties. 
Except, of course, money.  Something they never had to worry
about.

Finding something interesting to do -- that was another matter.

They had played little "follow the leader" games all their lives.
 Somewhere along the line, as emerging grown-ups, the games
became subtly more and more sexual.  Going out with boys -- or
girls -- and switching dates.  Daring each other to push the
envelope just a little bit farther, try more outlandish things. 
Each watching the other having sex, in a hotel or car. 
Exchanging partners.  Playing with each other, while their dates
watched, or screwed them from behind.  Some experiments with
bondage and discipline.  With hypnosis, mind control.  They both
decided they liked that -- a lot.  They played little dominance
games with each other more and more.  Sometimes Cindy was the
mistress, sometimes Linda.

Then they hit on the idea of "the agreement."

For one year, one of them would be the dominant partner, the
other the submissive.  For a full twelve months, one of them
would be mistress, the other slave.  At the end of the year, they
would switch.  A game of "spin the dildo" decided that they would
start out with Cindy as the slave, Linda as the mistress.

Today was the anniversary.  The last day of the year.  Time to
exchange places.

Linda led Cindy to her usual "slave cell" -- the shower stall in
the bathroom.  "Stand up," Linda said.  Still not quite sure
where she was, Cindy stood, and let Linda guide her through the
door of the stall, and position her facing the shower head. 
Linda lifted Cindy's left arm above her head, and attached the
wrist cuff that dangled from a chain in the ceiling, then did the
same with her right arm.  Then she reached inside Cindy's thong,
and unhooked the clit circlet from the string that attached it to
the swimsuit.  Cindy's legs shook with the brief stimulation of
her clit.  Linda gently tugged the thong down Cindy's long,
smooth legs.  A tap of Linda's finger to the back of Cindy's left
knee signaled Cindy to lift her foot, so Linda could pull the
suit off that leg, and then a tap to her foot made the slave set
her foot down again.  Repeating with the right leg, Linda removed
Cindy's thong, and set it aside on the counter top.  A tap to the
inside of each thigh signaled Cindy to shift her stance, so her
legs were spread in a wide inverted "V", allowing Linda to attach
the ankle cuffs to the slave's legs.  Linda then walked out of
the bathroom, leaving Cindy chained in the shower stall.

The bathroom held many ways for Linda to play with her slave. 
Racks of dildos, in a variety of sizes, shapes, and degrees of
"bumpiness."  An enema bag -- a very large one -- with a long
tube, and a collection of nozzles, also in various sizes. 
Scented oils and lubricants for the skin.  Special lubricants for
the vagina, the rectum -- some with stimulating or aphrodisiac
qualities.  That was the "low tech" part.

There was a waterproof TV screen in the wall, directly in front
of Cindy's eyes.  In a few moments, it came to life, with Linda's
face looking out at Cindy.  The camera and a small control
station were in the living room of the beach house, next to a big
TV where Linda could watch her sister from a dozen different
angles, through cameras all over inside the bathroom.

"Pee," Linda commanded.  The sound of her voice penetrated the
fog that engulfed Cindy's mind, and she mindlessly released
everything inside her bladder.  As soon as Cindy was finished,
Linda pressed a control on her console, and the shower came on,
rinsing Cindy down with a gentle spray of water at body
temperature.  Another touch of a control, and the spray stopped.

"Slave Cindy," Linda said.  "Slave Cindy... slave Cindy... slave
Cindy..."  Those words always triggered Cindy to go deeper and
deeper into hypnosis, enslaved to Linda's voice, wiping all
thoughts from her mind.  "That's right... feel your mind going...
 You're so horny, aren't you, Cindy?  Say yes."

Cindy was so deep, she couldn't even answer without a direct
command to do so.  "Yes," she said.  Linda watched through a
waist-high camera as Cindy's hips bucked forward.  She pressed
another control, and a well-aimed jet of water briefly shot out
of the wall, directly at Cindy's clit.  The slave shuddered, her
knees buckling slightly.

"It's been almost a year, slave Cindy... slave Cindy... slave
Cindy..." Linda intoned.  She pressed another control, and little
blasts of air played over Cindy's breasts, caressing her nipples.
 "And I've been preparing you," Linda said.  "How long has it
been, since I last let you cum?  Do you even remember?  How long?
 Try to tell me."

It was so hard for Cindy to think.  She wanted to cum, so badly.
Constantly stroked, stimulated, brainwashed, she could feel
herself always on the brink, right there at the edge.  Another
jet of air, this time aimed at her clit, coincided with Linda's
repeated command, "How long?"

"A week?" Cindy murmured.  So hard to form the words.  Her
thoughts were so fuzzy, she was not entirely sure what a week
was.  It was all that she could bring to mind.

"Six weeks," replied Linda.  "Six long weeks, I've been playing
with you.  Preparing you for this day.  Having you lick ME to
orgasm... orgasm... orgasm..."

Cindy pulled at the wrist cuffs, helplessly stimulated by the
trigger word, still unable to cross over that edge.

"Over and over and over again," Linda continued, watching Cindy's
face grimace with unsatisfied lust.  "While you could not cum...
you cannot cum... you cannot cum..."  Linda smiled, as Cindy's
shivering combined with her bucking hips into a delightful erotic
dance.  "Today is the final day, where I am mistress and you are
slave.  Remember our agreement?  Nod your head."

Cindy's head nodded.  She wasn't sure why.  Had she been asked a
question?

"But if I'm not your mistress, I won't be able to command you to
cum," Linda cajoled.  Through a camera at face height, Linda
could see Cindy's jaw drop, and her eyes go wide.  "If I'm not
your mistress, I won't allow you to cum."

Linda could see Cindy's lips mouthing the words, "No... no...
no...," although no sounds came out.  A pretty extreme reaction,
considering that Cindy's conditioning had made it almost
impossible for her to say the "N" word!

"If you agree to let me be your mistress for another year, I will
let you cum," Linda said.  "I will let you cum and cum and cum! 
Would you like that, Cindy?"  Now Linda waited.  Not even a
command to say yes -- just to see how intense her slave's desire
was.

Cindy nodded her head, eyes wide and pleading -- actually staring
at the TV screen like she was aware of it!

"Then you must agree.  Will you let me be your mistress for
another year, Cindy?  If you say yes, I will let you cum." 
Again, Linda waited.  The final test.

Cindy's mouth worked open and closed for a few moments.  So hard
to think.  So hard to answer, without being commanded to answer.
She hung, slackly, from her wrist cuffs, all energy directed at
trying to speak.  The first syllable came out soundlessly.  She
gulped, and finally, plaintively, Cindy managed to answer, "Yes,
please be my mistress!"

"Cum!" Linda immediately commanded.  "Cum now!  Cum, slave Cindy!
 Cum!  Cum!  Cum!"

On each command, Cindy's body clenched, as the waves of her
orgasms took over, rolling from deep inside her belly, outward
through her torso, arms, and legs.  All the chains pulled tight
as her muscles yanked them taut, drawing them to their limits. 
Her clit swelled inside the circlet -- pulsing, pulsing, pulsing
-- and her cunt spilled juices down her legs and onto the shower
floor.  She continued to hear Linda's voice commanding her to
"cum... cum... cum..." -- unaware that it was now a recording
that Linda had started, so she was free to walk to the kitchen,
make a cup of tea, and return to the living room to watch her
sister quaking in the throes of repeating, intense orgasms.

Linda sat down on the sofa, legs crossed -- so she could squeeze
them together and gently stimulate her own clit -- and sipped her
tea, enjoying the little moans coming from the TV speakers.  She
wondered if Cindy had any realization how many years it had been,
since they first made their agreement.

That she had agreed again, and again, to be the slave for one
more year?

Year after year.

One year at a time.





