Twin sisters in rural England crash the wrong party with very interesting, life-changing effects. “The Society” stories are not a sequential series of stories but rather a collection of separate stories that are all set in the world inhabited by members of The Society. Each story or series stands on its own although they do rely somewhat on the history and traditions of The Society. You need not have read the other stories of this collection to understand this story.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2013 by The Technician ( Technician666@Gmail.Com. )
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
“Yvonne, I’m bored,” whined Yvette. “Mother insists that we stay here on the estate during our summer holiday, but there is absolutely nothing to do out here in the middle of nowhere.” Her mouth was scrunched up in a pout and her arms were crossed before her in exasperation. “It would be different if the Lord were in residence, but it is just us and mother here in the house keeper’s cottage. There isn’t anyone at all in the manor house. The rest of the servants stay in London with the Lord, and the grounds keepers live all the way over on the other side of the estate. Besides, they are all old men. They must be at least in their thirties.”
Yvonne laughed. “We are more than halfway there already, sister. On our next birthday we will be twenty. Thirty isn’t that old.”
“Maybe that’s why mother insists that we don’t go over to the other side of the estate,” replied Yvette with a little less whine in her voice. “She never wants us to have any fun...” Then, grinning broadly with her eyes slightly sparkling, she added, “... especially not THAT kind of fun.”
“I think mother would be very surprised at how much fun we have at school,” answered Yvonne. “She probably thinks we are both still her dear sweet, twin, pre-pubescent virgins. If it weren’t for the fact that she had us, I would wonder if she knows anything at all about sex.”
“Mother will be back from her nightly inspection and cleaning soon.” said Yvette. “Keep an eye out while I check my email and messages on her computer. Hers is the only one with internet access and she won’t let us activate wi-fi on the router. There is no cell service out here so I haven’t been able to check anything for two days. I think she doesn’t want us to be able to contact any boys and let them know where we are.”
“I’ll let you know if the lights go out at the manor house.” answered Yvonne. “Then you watch while I check my accounts.”
Yvette reached over to turn on her mother’s computer, but as soon as she touched the mouse, the screen lit up. “Mom left it on!” she exclaimed. “And she is up in her email account! There is a forward here from the Lord. He says that he will not be able to be at the manor this weekend for the party and that mother is to personally extend his regrets to Squire Adamson. There is an attachment labeled ‘Invitation.’ I am going to open it and see what it is.”
When Yvette clicked on the file, a pop-up appeared saying “Password Protected File.”
“Shit!” she exclaimed. “It’s password protected.” But then another program showed a pop-up asking if it should fill in the login screen. “Mom left her password program open too. She must have already opened this because it’s filling in the password for me. I can’t believe this.”
Yvonne came over to look at the document as it opened. In very ornate script it said, “Squire Adamson, English Representative to The Inner Circle, Cordially invites all Masters and Mistresses in good standing with The Society to a weekend party at Twelve Oaks. The weekend will begin with a Masked Ball and Fancy Dress Party on Friday evening.”
In smaller, standard italic script at the bottom of the page, it added, “Only Dommes and Masseurs need worry about mask and dress. All others will be clothed appropriately to their station.”
The twins looked at each other with matching sly grins and said simultaneously “Sister, would you like to crash a party?”
= = = = =
The next day, both Yvette and Yvonne complained loudly all morning about being bored. After several hours of this, their mother, predictably, sent them up to the manor house to dust. That had been her standard response to their claims of boredom since they were little girls. They always pleaded not to have to do such boring and menial work, but their mother always reminded them, “I am the Lord’s housekeeper. When you are not around, it is I who do such boring and menial work. If you can’t find something else to keep yourselves occupied, you will spare me the boredom of such menial tasks.”
Their mother had evidently never figured out that the manor house was very seldom really in need of dusting since it was closed up tightly whenever the Lord and his personal servants were away. Besides, their mother dusted everything at least once a week or so just to keep busy while the Lord was away.
What the twins actually did in the time they were alone together at the manor house was to quickly dust the entryways, and then explore the manor’s many rooms and corridors, especially the ancient attics and cellars. They had been in every room in the manor house except the Lord’s bedroom, which was always locked, and one area of the basement which appeared to have been sealed off for some reason.
As soon as their mother sent them up to the manor house, Yvonne and Yvette went directly to the attic over the north wing. It was there that they had once discovered, and many times explored, the clothes storage. At the end of the north attic, stacked against the ancient brick walls, were layer upon layer of trunks and boxes that contained “ordinary clothing” that had been put into the attic when it went out of fashion. In the center, hanging carefully on metal racks and covered in heavy linen protectors, were gowns and suits of every style dating back centuries. On shelves along the sloped area beneath the roof itself, were small boxes with shoes, hats, gloves, and even ancient looking masks from balls and parties of eras long ago. It was the perfect place to find costumes to wear to Squire Adamson’s fancy dress masked ball.
The twins tried on scores of gowns, rejecting each of them until they both selected similar gowns that were labeled on their hangers as being from the 1860's. Both had chosen gowns in shades of blue that went well with their pale skin and light brown hair. The gowns even showed off the slight red highlights in their hair. The twins had always been thankful that their hair was not the typical British “mouse brown” with almost no highlights.
One thing that surprised the twins was that the gowns were almost skin tight and held their breasts tightly in an open top. “I’m going to have to be careful I don’t put my hands too far above my head,” giggled Yvonne. “Or I will pop at least one nipple out of this gown. There is no way that either of us can wear a bra with these. And the way the top of the dress is shaped, it is almost as if our nipples are supposed to show.
“Maybe that was the fashion back then,” answered Yvette. Then she added, “I don’t remember seeing dresses like this in my history books.”
“I do,” said Yvonne. “There were a lot of dresses back in the late 1700's and early 1800's where the nipples were just barely covered and even some where your boobs lay out there in the open, almost like they were on a shelf. But usually those dresses were of French design and had really wide hips or a huge booty formed by a wire cage bustle attached to a corset. I don’t remember seeing anything this straight and tight. Maybe someone was trying to create a new fashion that didn’t catch on in London so it didn’t show up in the history books.”
“I think zippers were new back then,” said Yvette, cocking her head as if trying to remember something. “Maybe a tight dress like this was a way of showing off that you could afford that cutting edge fashion technology.”
“Or maybe,” Yvonne added, “these are gowns worn by courtesans who entertained the Lords in their bedrooms rather than prim and proper ladies who got pictured in the history books.”
Yvonne slid her hands down her sides past her hips and observed, “In any case, either they had really small thongs back then or they didn’t wear anything at all under these gowns. There’s no way that you could wear a corset under this. My panty lines show up like pleats on this fabric. We are going to end up having to go totally commando for these gowns to work.”
“Like we’ve never done that before,” laughed Yvette as she set down a pair of shoes next to her gown. “We’ve got gowns, shoes, and masks. Our costumes are complete. Now our only problem is how to slip away from mother for the evening.”
“One thing at a time, dear sister,” answered Yvonne. “Let’s get these things back to the cottage and then we can plot our next move.”
When they returned to the cottage, Yvonne kept her mother distracted while Yvette sneaked two large armfuls of clothing into their bedroom and then returned to the kitchen. They were just starting to slip into the next room to come up with a plan of escape when their mother, who was preparing the evening meal, sighed loudly and said, “I am afraid I am going to have to leave you two alone for the weekend.”
The twins turned to look at her, trying not to smile - or whoop with joy. She explained, “The Lord has asked me to bring some things down to him in London on Friday and I will be gone until late Sunday afternoon. I expect that you two will be able to behave yourselves for that long.”
As usual, Yvette and Yvonne answered together, “We don’t have much choice, do we? There isn’t anywhere to get into trouble around here anyway. It will be another boring weekend, but we will behave ourselves.”
Mother smiled at her twins and they smiled back. Her smile was a mother’s smile of satisfaction that her daughters had not overly objected to being alone for the weekend. Their smile was one of anticipation of somehow slipping into a fancy dress party at the neighboring estate.
With mother gone, it was going to be easy. After all, it was a masked costume ball. How would anyone know that they were not invited guests? Their only problem now was figuring out how best to sneak into Twelve Oaks.
Later that evening the twins went to their room to plot their adventure. “I know we can get onto the grounds of Twelve Oaks through the servant’s path,” said Yvonne. “It connects the two estates. Butlers and maids and stable boys have been running back and forth for this or that since White Manor was first built. Mom has sent us over to Twelve Oaks once or twice with messages or to borrow or return something. Even though it has been a few years, I remember the path pretty well. But there is no way we can travel that path without getting the gowns dirty, and there is absolutely no way we can climb the style over the wall with those tight gowns almost hobbling us. If we wear something else and carry the gowns, then when we get there we will have to hide our extra clothing somewhere where it won’t be found by the Squire’s security people. If they patrol with dogs, they will smell our scent on the clothing and be on it like a pig on truffles.”
“The answer is obvious then, isn’t it sister? We sneak over to The Ten Oaks in our underwear and put the gowns on once we are close to the house. The back gardens will be dark. As long as we avoid the guards, no one will see us.”
“You are forgetting something, Yvette,” said Yvonne. “We won’t be wearing underwear - or anything else under those gowns. If we are carrying the gowns, then we are walking around naked.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” countered Yvette. “What’s the worst that can happen to us? One of the guards sees our naked bodies before they run us off. Didn’t you run alongside me on Naked Mile Night at school when we ran through the streets with nothing on but a mask over our faces. And those masks weren’t anywhere near as full and fancy as the ones we will be wearing Friday.”
= = =
And so it was that shortly after dark on Friday night, the twins, naked except for their shoes and masks, crept from the housekeeper’s cottage toward the woods that formed the boundary between the two estates. They had turned the dresses inside out and carefully folded them so that they would not accidentally brush the outside of the fabric against something and get them dirty.
“Lucky for us there’s a moon tonight,” said Yvonne as they walked toward the towering beech trees at the edge of the woods.
“I don’t know about that,” answered Yvette. “It is bright enough I am casting a shadow, and your lily white skin is almost glowing in the moonlight. We can probably be seen for miles.”
“My skin isn’t lily white. And there isn’t anybody around for miles to see us.”
They continued down the path which was lined by ancient hawthorns. After a short while, Yvette spoke again, “Mom said that White Manor and Twelve Oaks were built by brothers. This path was probably hedged off with hawthorn trees way back then. You can see that the path used to come directly up to the manor house on this end. That means it will probably also lead us directly to the manor house at Twelve Oaks. Everything is going just like we planned.”
Nothing messes up well-laid plans better than saying that everything is going exactly as planned. As the light of the moon began to become more dim through the dense trees, Yvonne stopped and said, “Oh oh.”
“What?” answered Yvette.
“That area up ahead is often wet and I can see the reflection of moonlight on the top of the leaves. Our heels will punch through the leaves and into the mud below. We are going to get our shoes all muddy.”
“No problem,” responded Yvette, “we just take our shoes off. The leaves should protect our feet, but even if it doesn’t that’s OK. If there is any mud on our feet, we wipe our feet carefully on the grass right after we come out of the woods.” She paused and then added, “And while we are at it, I have to take off this mask. I can’t see clearly enough in this dim light. I’ve already run into a couple of low hanging branches. You’d better remove your mask, too. We can’t risk them getting damaged or knocked off into the mud.”
Yvonne held Yvette’s dress for her while she removed her shoes, very carefully wiped them down with dried leaves and then placed them and her mask within the folds of the dress. Yvette then took the bundles of cloth while Yvonne did the same thing. They were now totally naked and barefoot walking through the ancient hedgerow path that connected White Manor and Twelve Oaks.
The path ended at a wall that towered several feet above the twin’s heads. It was apparent that at one time there had been an arched gate through the wall. The old opening was still clearly visible since it had been bricked up with stone that did not quite match the rest of the wall and the arch was still prominent in the sealed opening.
“They probably sealed it up once the estates were no longer owned by related families,” observed Yvette.
“Yeah,” answered Yvonne. “Once there was be no reason for the Lord of White Manor to stroll over to his brother’s house for the evening they closed it off and let the path deteriorate. Only servants must have used the path after that.”
She huffed her dissatisfaction, pointed at a narrow wooden set of steps that looked like a step ladder straddling the wall, and added. “Lords and Ladies get a gate. Servants and tradesmen have to climb over.”
Such “styles” were often used in the country to allow people over low fences or hedgerows while still keeping the animals in place. They were, however, usually much wider and normally only three or four steps to the top. This style was at least a dozen steps and had no platform at the top. Instead you had to straddle the wall from one ladder to the other and then turn to descend on the other side.
“Last chance to turn back,” said Yvette. Yvonne’s answer was to start climbing the narrow style. At the top of the wall she was fully bathed in moonlight and her skin shone brightly against the night sky. As Yvonne swung her leg over the top of the wall toward the ladder on the other side, the moonlight glistened on the wetness between her legs.
“Hey sister,” chided Yvette. “What’s with the love juice fountain? No panties, remember? You’d better control yourself or you will end up with a wet splotch on your ass.”
“I’m not the only one turned on by this, sister,” answered Yvonne. I could smell you as we walked down the pathway. We may be identical twins, but you have a slightly different scent than me.”
Yvette reached her hand down between her legs and felt the slight dampness of her pubic hair. “Oh,” she said with a start. “OK. Maybe both of us need to control ourselves or we will end up having to stand back to back all night to hide our wet spots.”
Yvonne just laughed and continued on down the steps on the other side of the wall. Soon she was joined by Yvette. The path on the Twelve Oaks side of the wall was better kept, and there was a large area adjacent to the wall that looked like it might be used as a picnic area or something. The path itself was clear of leaves and debris and had a sparse coating of grass.
“Let’s wait until we get a little closer to the house before we put these on in case we run into more water or mud.” advised Yvette. Yvonne nodded her head and the two naked girls began walking up the pathway toward the house.
The path grew slightly wider and a little more moonlight began to filter through the trees. When they could see the glow of lights from the manor house and hear music from the party, they stepped back into the shadows next to the hedgerow.
“It’s time to get ready for the ball,” giggled Yvonne. “Hold my things while I put my dress on and then I will help you get into yours. And remember, once we get into the house, the secret is to get a half-empty drink in your hand as soon as possible. When they see the drink, they think you have been there for a while and don’t question where you came from.”
A few minutes later, two masked young women in almost matching, blue antique gowns walked serenely out of the shadows of the back garden and onto one of the rear patios of the Twelve Oaks manor house. There must have been a pre-party reception on the patio, because just outside the door to the manor house there was a tray with filled champagne glasses sitting next to an uncorked, empty bottle. Another tray holding empty glasses sat next to it. Yvette grabbed one of the full glasses, dumped half of it into one of the empties and handed the half-full glass of champagne to her sister. Yvonne and Yvette were ready to party.
= = = = = = =
With champagne in hand, Yvonne and Yvette walked into the large ballroom of the Twelve Oaks manor house. What they saw inside nearly caused them to drop the glasses from their hands. It was definitely a fancy dress party, and there were many people there in costumes and masks similar to their own. But there were also many people in the ballroom who were not wearing costumes. In fact, they were not wearing anything.
A naked young woman, who appeared to be not much older than the twins, stepped up to them with a tray and asked, “Would the Mistresses desire an appetizer?” Yvonne smiled at her, speechless. Yvette merely nodded and took a canape from the tray.
After the naked server had moved on, Yvonne pulled Yvette back toward the door and said to her, “I think we have gotten into something we shouldn’t have. We’d better get out of here while we still can.”
Yvette, however, pulled her back toward the center of the room while whispering rather loudly, “In for a penny, in for a pound. We might as well enjoy ourselves until we get caught and thrown out.”
Yvonne was about to argue with her when a very handsome, black gentleman carrying an empty glass walked up to them and said, “Ah, another couple whom I can’t identify immediately. But don’t worry. I will figure out who you are before the masks come off at midnight.”
Both Yvonne and Yvette paled significantly behind their masks. They hadn’t figured on an unmasking. Now they would have to make sure they were able to sneak back out of the party before midnight. As they were both trying to figure out what to say, the man laughed heartily and turned to walk toward the bar at the edge of the room.
He had barely turned, however, when a loud clang and the crash of breaking glass rang out. “This should be interesting,” he said as he grabbed Yvette’s arm saying, “Won’t you join me. I would love to see how Squire Adamson handles this, wouldn’t you?”
Yvette attempted to stutter out something, but could not. Yvonne chirped, “Of course. Why come to a party like this if you don’t want to experience interesting things?”
The man reached out his other arm to Yvonne and she slipped her arm into his. Then the three of them walked to the other side of the ballroom where a naked server was standing with her head bowed next to a wide splotch of broken glass and spilled champagne. Tears were streaming down her face.
“Please master,” she was saying. “It was an accident. I turned too quickly and bumped into Mistress Gwen’s arm.” Unlike the server who had offered the twins canapes, this server’s head was clean shaven. Her oiled body, totally devoid of hair, glistened under the soft lights of the room.
A man in his late forties, whom the twins recognized from pictures as Squire Adamson, addressed her in a voice that sounded more disappointed than angry. “I thought you had sufficient training to handle such a simple thing as serving drinks in a crowd, but evidently I was wrong. After proper punishment, we will reassign you to duties you can handle.”
As he spoke, three other naked serving girls, one with a very short butch cut, one with pixie length hair, and one with hair that hung slightly down her back, knelt on the floor with towels wiping up the spilled drinks and carefully picking up the broken glass.
After they had finished cleaning things up, Squire Adamson turned slowly around as though surveying the room and then raised his hands above his head and clapped them loudly several times. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said in a loud voice. “Masters and Mistresses, Dommes and Masseurs, I regret that I have to interrupt our planned festivities for something as mundane as punishment for a careless slave, but as you all are very much aware, if these things are not nipped in the bud, who knows what behavior we will see.”
The crowd began to form a wide circle around him. He pulled the now trembling serving girl over to him and curtly instructed her, “Here. Standing. Do not move.” She did so.
Another server, this one wearing a caricature of a French maid’s outfit that did not cover her breasts nor her nether regions hurried up with short mincing steps carrying a tray on which were several paddles and switches. As she positioned herself next to the Squire, Yvonne could see that the reason for her odd walk was that her ankles were chained together with a rather short restraint.
Squire Adamson reached over to the slave who was to be punished. The twins expected him to pull her toward himself, but instead he reached up to her ear and lifted the small, round metal tag that hung from her right ear. He twisted it slightly between his fingers as though looking at the light which reflected off of it. Then he said, evidently to himself, but loud enough to be heard by most of those assembled. “Ah, server team number four.” He stepped back slightly and called out in a loud voice, “Server team four present yourself for punishment.”
Five young girls, all naked, ran onto the floor and knelt at his feet. Each one had her forehead solidly against the floor and her arms back alongside her legs so that they looked like large eggs on the ground before him. Three of the five were the three girls who had cleaned the floor. As they reached the Squire, they appeared to fall into their odd kneeling position in one swift, graceful move. The other two, totally devoid of hair like the standing slave, seemed to have more difficulty getting into the proper position. They twisted and shifted until their back was sufficiently flat and their arms were in contact with the floor from the tips of their fingers to their shoulders.
The Squire looked down at the two hairless slaves and murmured, “You are learning.., and you are trying. That - and absolute obedience - is all that I require of you.” The two slaves seemed to relax slightly upon hearing that.
He then raised his voice slightly and ordered, “Present yourself for punishment.” All five girls raised their asses as high into the air as they could. The twins could see the leg and back muscles of the five slaves quivering with effort as they struggled to hold their asses in the air in such a position.
Squire took one of the paddles from the tray held by the nearly naked French maid. He stood above one of the hairless slaves and swung downward. A loud “smack” echoed through the room. A gasp and intake of breath was followed by a quivering voice which said, “One. Thank you, Master.”
The Squire swung again, and again the loud “smack” was followed by a count and a thank you. A total of ten swats rained down on the hapless slave. “You did very well.” murmured the Squire. “Remember to keep your ass up and presented until I have finished with the rest.”
The slave did not answer, but her soft sobs could be heard in the silence as the Squire laid the paddle on the ground between her hands and selected another paddle from the tray. He then moved on to the second hairless slave. Again he swung downward, and again there was a loud “smack,” but this sounded slightly different.
Yvonne leaned close to Yvette and said, “There are ridges on that paddle. It probably hurts more than the smooth one.”
Yvette turned her head slightly to answer and said, “I can’t believe how this is turning me on. If he keeps up like this I am going to be dripping on the floor by the time he gets to the last one.”
“I am already dripping,” replied Yvonne. “I just hope that I don’t end up with a wet spot on my dress.”
Squire Adamson was now selecting another implement from the tray. This time the twins took notice of the paddle as he hefted it in his hands, testing its balance before use. This paddle did not have ridges on it, but it did have holes... holes all along the center of its length. It made a slightly different swishing noise as the Squire swung it downward toward the slaves ass. And it made a much crisper “snap” as it contacted the flesh. Maybe less air was trapped between the paddle and the flesh and so it hit harder. Or perhaps he was just swinging it harder. In any case the short-haired slave gasped as the first stroke hit and her voice quivered significantly as she counted the stroke and thanked her master.
On the seventh stroke, she broke slightly and cried out. Squire Adamson waited patiently for her to regain her composure and force out “S-s-seven. Th-th-thank you, Master.”
“You can do this,” said the Squire softly. “I know you don’t want to disappoint me in front of my guests.” He then struck suddenly with the paddle. The “snap” was definitely louder than it had been, but the slave responded immediately, “Eight. Thank you, Master.”
The ninth and tenth strokes sounded softer, and there seemed to be an overtone of relief in the slave’s voice as she called out “Nine. Thank you, Master,” and “Ten. Thank you, Master.” Yvonne noticed that Squire Adamson patted the slave on the head as he set the paddle down before going back to the tray for a new implement.
He returned with a wooden-handled tawse in his hand. It appeared that the tips of the spilt piece of leather were somehow slightly thicker than the rest of the leather. Yvette winced and leaned over to whisper to Yvonne, “That is going to hurt.”
“Yeah,” answered Yvonne, but her voice was almost a moan rather than a whisper.
“One. Thank you, Master,” came the voice of the slave with the pixie length hair. The Squire whipped rapidly and the slave spoke rapidly to keep her count in sync with the strokes. It was just a short time before she was saying, “Ten. Thank you, Master.”
The Squire then removed the final implement from the tray. It was too short to be a cane, but at the same time it appeared too long to be a crop. But, since it had the little flap of leather on the tip like you would find on a crop, that is what it had to be. This time the Squire did not swing his arm. Instead he flicked his wrist and the overly long crop swung downward in a rapid arc. There was a very loud, very crisp, “pop,” and the long-haired slave grunted slightly and said, “One. Thank you, Master.”
Yvette could see the slave’s ass and the imprint of the crop was a square, raised welt on her left ass cheek. Each pop brought another grunt and raised another welt. The Squire never hit twice in the same place and the slave never broke or missed the count, but her entire body was beginning to shake and quiver as the count approached ten. The last stroke was almost as loud as a pistol shot, and a slight trickle of blood oozed from the square welt, but the slave still merely grunted and said “Ten. Thank you, master.” As soon as the Squire laid the crop on the floor at her head, however, she broke into deep, but silent sobs.
The squire dismissed the French maid who was now holding an empty tray, and turning to face the five kneeling slaves he clapped his hands three times. They all instantly came to their feet. Somehow, as they were coming out of their awkward punishment position, they were able to grab the instrument of their pain from the floor and have it in their hands as they stood facing their master.
Squire Adamson stepped slightly to the side so that the five red-assed slaves were now facing the trembling girl who had brought this punishment upon them. “Two for one. Rapidly,” he said. Then after a pause he added, “Now.”
The five slaves pounced upon the miscreant swinging their paddles, the tawse, and that awful long-handled crop. They were counting as they swung. Their victim tried to turn to protect herself, but they were surrounding her, and turning from one meant another had a clear swing at her ass. Besides, since all five were swinging at the same time, many of the blows landed on her front and breasts as well as her ass. It almost looked like the long-haired girl was timing her swings so that she always hit on the front. A series of small square welts, some of them bleeding, were visible just above the unfortunate slave’s cunt. The crop must have hit even lower at least once, because there was blood dripping from a cut on one of her pussy lips. Finally each of the slaves called out “Twenty” and stopped.
The young slave stood there shaking and crying and repeating, “I’m sorry master. I’m sorry master. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I’m sorry master. I’m sorry master. I will try harder in the future.”
“I know you will,” answered the Squire, “but for now I want you to do something that I know you are good at. You will kneel outside the restrooms at the end of the hall. If someone orders you to go in with them, you will. You will be their toilet slave if that is what they desire, or you will suck cock or lap pussy if that is what they wish. Do not disappoint me again or I will sell you to your brother. He has wanted to buy you from me for some time anyway.”
The slave’s face turned white with fear. “Please, no, Sir. Please don’t sell me - especially to him. I will do better, Sir. I will, Sir. I will.” She turned and started to walk away.
“Crawl,” came the command from the Squire.
She immediately dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl away.
“On your belly,” he added and she dropped to the floor and pulled herself along, snakelike, toward the hallway.
“I again apologize for that interruption,” said the Squire to his guests. “As enjoyable as it is to watch proper punishment, I think we need a little change of pace. I propose an orgasm contest. Lets see who can beat the machines - or at least last the longest. You can enter your favorite slave, or if one of the mistresses wants to enter, you can do so without risk... unless, that is, you have some side bets with another master or mistress. There is no official risk of losing standing or status within The Society associated with this contest.”
He looked around the room and then continued, “We will start in fifteen minutes, so decide quickly who is entering. We have a dozen wands and a dozen trained slaves, so we can have up to twelve contestants. I guarantee you that the slaves are absolutely neutral.” He laughed and added, “They have to be or they will be our next entertainment..., and it won’t be pleasure.”
“Oh God,” moaned Yvonne to Yvette. “Now I am definitely dripping on the floor.”
“I never would have believed this if I wasn’t here.” whispered Yvette. “All this time I thought that nothing ever happened way out here in the middle of nowhere, and this is going on right next door. Do you think mother knows anything about this?”
“Mother!” snorted Yvonne. “Are you serious!? She would faint dead away at the sight of what is going on here. I still wonder how she ever managed to have us.”
The twins watched while twelve matching divans were brought out and placed in a circle in the very well-lit area in the center of the ballroom. The couches looked very much like ones the twins had seen in paintings from the middle ages with rather corpulent nudes lounging on them. They slowly filled as naked slaves were escorted to the center of the room and assigned a couch. A few of the slaves stood beside their divan, but the rest reclined on the curved surface and spread their legs exposing their sex to everyone.
Three women in rather elaborate costumes also came into the center area. They did not disrobe, but instead lay across the divans and bunched their ample dresses up around their waists. They had nothing on beneath the dresses, but unlike the slaves, two of them had thick bushes of pubic hair between their legs.
One of the women said rather loudly to the other two, “An hour a minute. Losers serve the winner for one hour for every minute she lasts longer than them. I am going to enjoy having you two at my disposal for at least a full afternoon.”
Another of the women, who appeared to be a bit older laughed and answered, “You don’t have the staying power you think you have. We will see whose tongue is in whose ass at the end of this.”
Yvonne was suddenly startled when a deep voice right alongside her called out, “We still have two divans and two slaves ready and waiting. Do we have any more entrants in our little contest?”
She turned toward the voice and ended up looking directly into Squire Adamson’s eyes. He smiled at her and asked, “Perhaps you two young women would like to participate?”
“I don’t think so,” answered Yvette and she grabbed Yvonne’s arm and turned to walk away. Or, at least she tried to walk away. As she turned, she walked directly into the chest of the handsome black man who had spoken to them earlier.
“Oh, but I insist,” he said softly as he took Yvette’s hand in his own. “You must have wanted to participate in our festivities very badly or you wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble to sneak in here.”
He smiled at her. It was not a reassuring smile. “There are regular security patrols of the gardens and grounds. Between times, the video feeds are monitored by computers with facial recognition capability. You somehow timed your entrance exactly after one of the periodic sweeps and were not seen by any of the guards. Our automated security system should have still immediately alerted us to your coming onto the grounds, but for some reason it did not. After I realized that we had undetected intruders among us, I reviewed the video logs from the security cameras. I was amazed to see two, identical, naked young women climbing over the back wall.”
He made a sweeping gesture with his arm and continued, “As you can see, all of the Masters and Mistresses are clothed. All of the slaves are naked. The alarm system is - was - programmed to only take note of slaves if they were attempting to leave, not while they were going about their daily duties. Had you gone over the wall naked - or clothed - in the other direction, it would have sounded an alarm in the security room. But the programmers, understandably, could not imagine why anyone would ever try to sneak onto the grounds totally naked. But you did. For some reason, you decided to sneak into Ten Oaks totally naked, and so the program read you as a slave going about your duties and ignored you.”
He smiled again. This time it was closer to a genuine smile. “By the way, both of you look very charming in the moonlight. The pale light really brings out the beauty of your skin. The sexual flush and excitement is just visible as an undertone in your skin color and facial expression. The images of you coming over the wall and then walking up the old path toward the manor house are almost worthy of being framed and hung in a gallery. I am sure the security people have already made personal copies to take home with them. I may have a painting commissioned based on those images.”
The Squire then took Yvonne’s arm and explained, “This is a very tight-knit community of Masters and Mistresses. None of us recognized either of you, so we knew immediately that you were not invited Dommes. And yet you had somehow managed to get in past what is normally an excellent and inviolable security system. We had no idea who or what you were, so we waited to see what developed. When you came into the house, you were clothed as though you were Mistresses, but we have since figured out that you are just naive children playing dress up who blundered in through a flaw - now corrected - in our defenses.”
“Remove your clothing and lay down on the divan.” ordered the black gentleman.
“Just who do you think you are?” snapped Yvette.
“I am Master Tyrone, Grand Master of The Society. I have power that you cannot imagine, but we will do nothing to you that you do not want done. You are free to leave if you desire. If you wish, you can walk out the front door and back up the lane to White Manor. You are free to do that... if that is what you want to do. But I don’t think that is what your body wants you to do.”
“I could see your response to the slave’s punishment. Both you and your twin sister had to noticeably restrain yourselves from reaching down and rubbing yourselves. If you had not been standing in the middle of the room, I am sure you would have put your hand under your dress to relieve your sexual tension.”
Both girls blushed slightly and unconsciously held their arms tightly at their sides, almost behind their backs. Their body language proclaimed the accuracy of Master Tyrone’s observations.
Turning slightly he asked, “Tell me... Yvonne is it? Look me in the eyes and tell me what you were thinking as you watched each of those slaves being whipped. As your cunt overflowed onto your legs, were you imagining yourself standing there swinging that long-handled crop....? Or perhaps did you see yourself on the other end of the handle?”
Yvonne lowered her eyes. A soft shudder swept across her. Her lip trembled and she struggled with herself whether or not to answer. Finally she said softly, “I was her. I was the one being beaten.”
“We are not asking you to be beaten... yet.” said the Squire. “Remove your dresses and lay back on the divans. This is pleasure.”
“It is pleasure with a price, however,” added Master Tyrone. “This is contest. In every contest, there are winners and there are losers. Anyone who does not last at least five minutes will receive one lash with a whip for each second that they fall short. In addition, the loser - the first one to orgasm - will receive 8 strokes of the cane. All you have to do to avoid punishment is to last at least five minutes, and then hold on one second longer than someone else.”
As he spoke he was pulling down the zipper on Yvette’s dress. When he finished speaking, he reached up with both hands and slid the fabric down off of her shoulders. Even though the dress had been tight upon her body, it now slid easily down to pool at her feet. She looked over at Yvonne. The Squire had done the same with her and she was now stepping out of the dress that was pooled at her feet and walking slowly over to one of the two empty couches.
“Slaves, check your wands,” commanded The Squire and the room was filled with a loud humming as a dozen “Magic Wands” came to life. From a distance the wands looked like large salt-mill-style salt shakers, except they were made of white plastic rather than wood and there was a long electric cord trailing from one end.
“Begin now,” said The Squire and Yvette suddenly gasped as the bulbous vibrating head of the wand was rubbed lightly across her slit. Both she and Yvonne had used vibrators before. They had even used them on each other. But it was never like this. The vibrations from the wands were intense, and the slaves knew just where to rub the tip of the wand and how hard to rub it.
The slave working on Yvonne moved her wand down between her legs and pressed it tightly against Yvonne’s wet and sloppy opening. It slid in easily as Yvonne called out, “Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!”
The slave reached up with her other hand and grabbed the wand near the tip. She slid the wand slowly in and out of Yvonne’s love canal while her fingers, now vibrating with the wand, slid over Yvonne’s clit. Yvonne tried to say something to Yvette, but all that came out was one continuous, high pitched moaning cry.
It made no difference. Yvette would not have heard her anyway. She too had her head thrown back and her mouth wide open. To those watching the contest, the twin’s voices blended together into a perfect note of sexual frenzy that grew louder and higher until simultaneously both Yvonne and Yvette thrashed their legs frantically and screamed out in orgasm.
Both slaves now moved to between the twin’s legs and replaced the wands with their tongues. They lapped greedily at the freely flowing juices, all the while driving Yvonne and Yvette higher and higher into orgasmic ecstacy. The twin’s voices were still united as one, but now it was a series of low pitched grunts as the slaves buried their faces deep between their legs.
Finally, Squire Adamson came over and tapped each of the slaves on the shoulder. When they looked up he made a slight hand gesture and they stood up and left the well-lit area. Yvette and Yvonne lay on their couches staring at the ceiling and moaning softly.
Master Tyrone came and stood between them. “You both lasted exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds. You tied as losers. And you both were seventy-eight seconds short of five minutes. That means seventy-eight lashes with the whip and then eight with the cane.”
“We have a problem,” said The Squire loudly as he signaled for silence in the room. He smiled, shrugged and then continued, “But all problems are just opportunities that we have not yet seized.” He gave another signal and a large platform with two thick beams sticking upright from it was rolled into the center of the room.
“Here is where the loser was to be bound,” he explained. “... with her hands and feet spread wide apart so that we could watch her entire body as she squirmed beneath the cane and perhaps the lash.” He walked slowly around the outside of the platform. “Our two visitors went off seventy-eight seconds short of the five minute mark. Obviously they are un-trained. The worst time for a trained slave in the contest was almost eight minutes. They definitely lost..., but they tied. We have never had a tie for loser in any of our contests ever before.”
He looked out over the assembled Masters and Mistresses. “I suppose we could try some tie breaker tests. We could perhaps see which of them could stand the most pain in their nipples or something like that. But they are twins and would probably just end up tying once again. So I propose that they share the punishment. We will bind them face to face between the posts and Grand Master Tyrone and I will administer the punishment to both of them simultaneously.”
His proposal was met with a murmur of approval from the crowd.
Master Tyrone leaned down and said softly to the twins, “Would you please stand between the posts?”
Some of the people who overheard wondered at the Grand Master making a request rather than issuing an order, but they knew enough not to voice their questions or comments. Eventually they would realize that Grand Master Tyrone had chosen his words carefully. He knew exactly what he was doing in presenting a request rather than issuing a demand. He was asking the twins, “Are you willing to be punished?”
Would Yvonne and Yvette choose to accept this punishment? Grand Master Tyrone was, after all, giving them the final choice. It was their decision. And this was a very important decision for the twins.
Grand Master Tyrone stood calmly waiting for their answer. Did the twins realize that the choice whether or not to place themselves between those upright posts involved much more than seventy-eight lashes and eight strokes? Did they recognize the path they were about to travel? Did they realize where this path could - no, would inevitably lead? And perhaps most importantly, did they understand how difficult it would be for them to return to their former lives once they started down that path?
Almost as if in a drugged state, though the only drug was sexual excitement, Yvonne and Yvette rose and walked slowly over to the platform and stood face to face between the upright posts with their bodies pressed tightly one against the another. Four men in all black costumes stepped forward carrying long leather cords and tied their wrists and ankles so that they were secured spread-eagled between the beams.
Because they were twins, their bodies matched exactly as they stood face to face. Yvonne was looking over Yvette’s right shoulder while Yvette’s head rested on Yvonne’s right shoulder. Their breasts pressed against each other nipple to nipple. Yvonne wiggled her shoulders back and forth slightly and Yvette moaned as their nipples slid past each other. Then the first lash of the whip struck.
Neither master was swinging with great force. This was, after all, more of a display whipping than a punishment whipping, but the force of the lash was sufficient to force both Yvette and Yvonne to clench their buttocks and rock their pelvis up and forward. That rocking motion caused each of them to press their mound directly into the others. By the fourth lash both were accentuating that movement to rub clit to clit with their sister.
Had they been true slaves, they would have been forced to count the strokes, but since they were, for the moment, still free women, they had the luxury of concentrating instead on the sensations between their legs and on their breasts. As they continued to rub against each other, the lash became just an accompaniment of sound and sensation to their dance of lust. Even when the lashing was completed and the Masters picked up the thin, whippy canes, they barely noticed.
Six welts rose red and angry across their ass cheeks, but they could feel only the pressure and heat of each other’s cunt pressing into their own and the tantalizing sensation of nipple rubbing against nipple. After the seventh strokes with the cane, both Grand Master Tyrone and Squire Adamson paused. They looked at each other and both nodded. Then they pulled their arms well back over their heads and swung with terrible force for the eighth and final stroke.
The twins felt that stroke. Their screams pierced the room. But their high pitched scream of pain was followed almost immediately by a series of lower pitched grunts and moans as both of their bodies shook and trembled with tremendous orgasms.
Once their trembling seemed to abate, the four men who had bound the twins to the pillars returned and released them. Two naked slaves led them off the platform and over to where the Squire and the Grand Master were now standing.
“Lift your arms,” instructed a nearby Mistresses who was holding Yvonne’s dress. She did so and a naked slave slid the cloth down over her arms and onto her body. It stung slightly as it passed down her back and buttocks. Another naked slave came forward, handed her the shoes and mask which she had been wearing earlier in the evening and then helped her zip the dress. Another slave had slipped Yvette’s dress on her and she now stood, fully clothed, alongside Yvonne.
“You may leave,” said Grand Master Tyrone. He was not giving permission. It was an order and both girls knew it. Squire Adamson beckoned them and walked with them out the front door and down the driveway toward the main gate.
“Do not try to sneak in again,” he warned. “At Twelve Oaks you are either a Master or a slave. It is obvious that neither of you is a Mistress or Domme and never will be.”
The girls cast their eyes down as he spoke. He continued, “There is no shame in that. You cannot change what you are. You have discovered tonight what you are and what you are not. You - and we - now know that you are not a Mistress. So, if you ever want to return to Twelve Oaks Manor, it can only be as you first came in tonight, barefoot and naked.”
He paused to face them. “Unless you are ready to make that choice, go home. Go back to your school and your busy life in the city.”
He began walking again and spoke to them as they walked alongside him. “Maybe one day you will tell your friends about the wild party that you attended here and what you did and what was done to you. No one will believe you, but you can tell them anyway. Maybe as you talk about this party you will be able to recapture some of the feelings which stirred in you tonight.”
They had reached the gate. He turned toward the small guardhouse and made a gesture with his hand. The gates swung open and Yvonne and Yvette walked slowly out toward the lane.
The twins had almost reached the road when Yvette stopped and turned to look at Yvonne. “I can’t..” she sputtered slowly. “I have to...” she stammered. And then she stepped out of her shoes.
“What are you doing?” asked Yvonne. Yvette reached behind herself and pulled the zipper down. As she began to slide the dress down her body, Yvonne said simply, “Oh.”
The Squire was walking slowly back up the driveway toward the house. He seemed to be taking his time, as if he was waiting for something. Two voices called out to him, “Master! Master Adamson! May we return to Twelve Oaks Manor?”
He stopped and smiled. He thought he knew what he would see when he turned around, and he was right. Kneeling on the asphalt just outside the gate were two naked and barefoot slaves. Their posture was terrible; their heads were not properly positioned; and they had no idea what to do with their hands. But all that was just a matter of training.
He signaled the guard to open the gate. As he approached the kneeling girls, he motioned for them to rise, and said, “Follow me.” As they walked back up toward the manor house, he turned toward them and said softly. “Once I have seen to your training, your mother will be very proud of you. My father trained her well and she is an excellent slave. She often accompanies the Lord of White Manor to these parties.”
Yvonne and Yvette looked at each other with shocked faces and wide eyes. Then they both smiled very crooked smiles and said together, “Mother never leaves her computer on. She always closes her email program if she even walks out of the room. And she has NEVER used a password program.... She set us up!”
Squire Adamson chuckled softly as he walked before them. He spoke without turning around, “Ah, yes. Sometimes mother does know best. Welcome to Twelve Oaks. I can assure you that here, you definitely will not be bored.”