Torn Between Twins

Chapter One-4

Jay didn’t know if he’d been an incipient masochist all along or if it was just his mistress’ insidious influence. But he was beginning to find her chastisement as stirring as being tied up by her in the first place. Picking up on his openly erotic writhing, the exotic goddess smiled down upon her suffering subject’s obvious ardor with breast-swelling benevolence.

“Yes, the pain is a most sensational stimulus isn’t it? Enduring it for your mistress arouses you like little else can.”

“I love you so much, Jen,” was all Jay could manage. Then with a wrenching effort: “Hurt me worse, Mistress. I deserve it. I’m way too weak to be worthy of you.”

Admitting this truth brought a flush of shame to his face – and paradoxically a fresh surge of throbbing in his c**k. Was feeling so supremely humiliated really such an indispensable part of this? Soon he would feel the consummate moron for even pondering.

“Truth at last!” Jen was crowing over him. “Now we’re making progress!

“Since you beg me for increase rather than surcease, I graciously agree to grant your plea. Besides, I’m getting bored just decorating your d**k and torso. And you look too sybaritic for this stage of your pain training. It’s time I had some fun with your sexy bum!

“I’ve always believed it’s your best feature, ever since I spanked it cherry-red at that sweet seventeenth birthday party – before I took your other cherry that is. How have I so completely neglected it in all these years since?”

Jen climbed off him and replaced the candlesticks.

The tapers were now but stubs, their expended substance puddled or encrusted all over Jay – holding in the heat of all the reddening beneath. Then Jen thankfully dislodged some of that wax, though this was hardly by design. She grabbed the belt binding his ankles. In one smooth maneuver she lifted his legs straight back over and right above his head. Doubling him up against the pillow-piled headboard, Jen bound the belt about his feet to the necktie she had restraining his hands.

With his vulnerable behind and the undersides of his thighs now lifted up high, Jay felt a fresh flush flooding his face. He was sure he looked mortifyingly absurd. Yet as before he couldn’t resist the intense perverse frisson of uselessly resisting his restraints, now only accentuated by this new sense of debasement.

He could quickly come to crave such abjection, just as his goddess had prophesied. But then Jen left no doubt about how powerful the obscene hold being demeaned by the authoritative female could exercise over the unsuspected submissive hidden within.

She pulled that leather-upholstered-oak spanking paddle over to within easy reach. Rather than begin to use it on him however (and reminded-of-his-birthday-party Jay couldn’t wait) Mistress dug around in that diabolically deep handbag yet again. This time she retrieved a squirt bottle of baby oil – and a glittering string of what first looked like decorative party baubles. Only belatedly did Jay realize they were one-inch diameter anal beads that been improbably painted or (no doubt hugely expensively) even gilded.

“Remember what I said about filling your most erogenous holes with gold?”

Putting aside issues of outlandish extravagance, Jay paid attention to more pressing matters.

He knew what such toys were designed for: supposedly prolonging or enhancing the orgasm. He’d never have dreamed of experimenting with them for himself, no more than he’d ever considered sticking anything else up what had always exclusively been a poop chute. No offense against the gays now; it’s just that s**t has its place and that’s where Jay preferred it stayed. Yet clearly this was an evening for expanding (if not annihilating) inhibiting old boundaries. Making no protest as he watched his mistress oil up all those connected balls, slave Jay didn’t even try to deny the intensity of the humiliated thrill building in him.

What would it feel like, to be so intimately, abnormally penetrated, invaded, violated, subjugated even occupied?

He found out promptly enough.

Full of quiet gloating at not even needing to reprimand any panicked male recalcitrance, Jennifer methodically forced all ten of those gleaming, oil-greased beads in through Jay’s upraised anus, uncomfortably (to say the least) stuffing up his unaccustomed, luckily recently emptied rectum.

By the time she’d finished, his face burned almost worse than his branding – and his prick felt like an iron sword being refined in a forge. Leaving the last foot and a half of cord dangling its attached handle, Jen leaned in. Unexpectedly she kissed Jay’s outrageously flaming cheek.

“I could tell you got off on being so humiliatingly filled. That kind of penetration pain is just perfect for the perverted submissive, isn’t it? I am so happy for you, slave. This lovely young butt is in for more sin and fun than any straight guy can properly imagine.

“Consider it compensation for all the deprivation it’s going to cost you to remain true to me. Because I love you dearly too, Junior. I want constant, mind-blinding gratification for my chosen slave, even while he’s languishing in the clutches of my worst enemy’s dungeon.

“Now then, last birthday spanking it was your coming-of-age party. How about this time we give you a good old-fashioned ass-paddling to commemorate your formal enslavement – not to mention your very first, very enjoyable, up-the-butt buzzy-balls stuffing?”

Jay didn’t care what she called it, or how all of her obscure warning talk added up. His head was still spinning, endlessly replaying that unprecedentedly direct declaration of deep devotion.

“Do whatever you choose to me, Mistress. I belong to you now. And I’m already having the greatest evening in recorded history here. I could head for any dungeon or even die in my sleep tonight without any regrets after a bachelor bashing like this.”

“Don’t you dare!”

This time Mistress Jennifer hauled off and fiercely b***h-slapped the cheek she’d just so sweetly kissed.

“No one escapes me that easily! Remember that lesson later. No matter how difficult things get with my tyrant sister, don’t you ever dare think about giving up and finishing yourself. Just trust in your true mistress and endure until I deal with her and return for you.

“Now, let’s begin working on that pain appreciation, shall we? And maybe your chosen torturess will have a few pointed questions for you along the way. A beating without interrogating seems like such a waste of good agony…”

If you say so, my lady. Jay only knew that he loved being beaten – at least until that damn questioning began. That was when unwanted conflict infected all the sensational physical-emotional effects. Before that, every punishing crack of that leather-clad hardwood paddle against his ass was an unalloyed joy.

The pain, humiliation and worship-lust of being bare-bottom spanked (hard!) by his adored older owner were all madly addicting enough. But genius Jennifer’s spheroid beads… Every hugely evocative impact made him clench involuntarily on them, emphasizing that enormously affecting and unnatural intrusion. And as if they were internally associated somehow, each time his raging hard-on strained insanely harder in response. All Jay wanted (other than a brand-soothing, madness-relieving blow-job) was to lift his wonderfully overstuffed butt up ever higher, beg for it to be beaten ever harder and wallow in the ignominious novelty of it all.

Unfortunately somewhere between irritated red and deeply contused black-and-blue, the damage to his gluteus was joined by that promised assault on his mental defenses. It seemed Mistress was still obsessed with one matter above all others. One needn’t wonder what it was.

“Tell me slave: how can I be sure you’re not going to sleep with my sister?”

Groaning, Jay repeated his jokes about vaginal knives and frostbite, trying to convey all the convincing disincentives at play.

“Not good enough! Ten more swats and a vicious twist of the betraying baby-makers!”

This last was so much harder to channel! Gasping now, Jay tried to deflect again about how frigid Julia would surely never seek coitus with him. Again this was criminally insufficient.

“You know that b***h promised your mother, the only person I believe she ever loved, that she’d carry on your family line. That means at least one child by you. And that means coitus!”

After more manic battering and ten seconds of double-fisted nut-crushing, perspiration-drenched Jay tried to suggest IVF – a test-tube baby. His owner was having none of that either.

“Oh don’t give me that crap!” Jay was hurt worse by the sparkle of her repressed tears than the subsequent ass-thrashing and outright punch to those by-now unendurably suffering nuts. “She’s rented a big honeymoon suite for Sunday night right here in this very hotel!”

Once he was done retching, Jay tried again.

He explained about how their two remaining parents were leaving for their Caribbean sunset together the day after the wedding – Jay’s birthday – whereupon the newlywed heirs would finish closing up their separate city apartments and move into the suburban Chandler mansion in their stead. With all the shipping boxes and uproar in progress, and important traditions to consider, Julia obviously thought it best if…

“Julia thought it best if you have an STD test?”

“I…her…legal reasons… That was more an insult to my promiscuity than from any practical considerations in case we…!”

Before Jay could finish he was Screamin’ Jay for real as his owner dug in her nails, twisted and crushed and stretched and wrenched at both his testes as through trying to rupture or even unman him utterly. If she couldn’t have their output, no one would! Jay’s evening-long, exquisitely hard tumescence at least was ancient history long before his oldest friend was even close to finished nut-punishing his manifest inadequacy.

“What do you want from me?” Jay was finally reduced to sobbing nauseously.

“I HAVE TO KNOW YOU WON’T BE f*****g THAT CUNT!” shrieked possibly psychotically jealous Jennifer. Giant eyes raved insane hate as his agony refused to abate. Then choking back a sob of her own, his tortured torturess finally relented.

“That honeymoon suite is just the beginning. You said it yourself.

“Once you’re shut up in that house, she can lock me out and really go to work on you. Are you going to try and tell me you don’t find my evil twin even a tiny bit attractive? This same flawless face and fabulous body, only virginal and untouched… Tell me you wouldn’t love to give my pristine duplicate a good raging hate-f**k at least.”

Somehow Jay dredged up enough breath to protest. “I would never. Not even for hate’s sake. I do not rape, no matter how hot or deserving the potential victim is.”

“Really? Say that victim was tied up naked and completely helpless for you, just like this. Except there’s a big fat ball-gag shutting her the hell up for once. Tell me you wouldn’t revel in f*****g prudish Princess Julia right up her self-righteously uptight asshole! Squeeze it all the way in there and tear her apart! Wham-wham-wham-wham-hard-hard-hard-hard-hard-hard!”

Even in the depths of his testicle-swelling extremity, Jen got a giggle from stuffed-up-and-loving-it bondage b***h Jay at that.

“Okay, you win. That opportunity I couldn’t resist.”

Immediately Mistress seized on his weakness.

“You see what I mean? You’re a man; you have way too many vulnerabilities. And as you said, my sister is Godzilla on a souped-up nuclear steamroller. No way can I trust you to honor any promises you make to me about her. But you’re going to give me your sworn word anyway, my treacherous weakling slave. And Mistress Jenny hereby swears in return to redeem you from that inevitable betrayal, as well as everything else. So let’s hear it boy: Give me your pre-wedding vow right now.”

Weakling or not, what choice did he have? One more wrong answer and his balls would be bloody pulp. To even dare delay risked eyes as incisive as lasers…

“I swear to you, soul-owner, that I will never put your signed p***s inside my wife – or anybody else for that matter. It now belongs to you exclusively, just like the rest of me.”