Chapter Two

 

 

Cool September evening hint of violet sky touch of melancholy riding the breeze. A night for lovers.

The garage held tools, cans of oil polish, rags and the accumulated debris of years of storage, enfolded by the rough scent of dust, petrol, spider, a silent gathering, mice droppings, and the aroma of disuse.

A silent gathering, Anastasia and Tamasine and Mark Richards, waiting for the church clock to strike the half hour, the moment Anastasia had decreed it would begin.

Tamasine hung by her wrists from the overhead beam, strong enough to raise an engine well able to support a slim girl who would not fight or shout. In the naked bulb her naked body gleamed white and ivory, shadowed and lit, crevices and mounds awaited, begged wandering fingers and hands. Anastasia half naked, breasts bouncing loose inside a skimpy top, erect nipples showing clearly, skirt on the floor in the grease and oil, Mark good-looking and well developed, muscles rippling under tight ripped sleeve tee shirt, held himself rigid, fighting back need. He knew this body, this girl, wanted her now, wanted so much the pressure became a pain.

But Anastasia’s domination was so supreme he waited, not knowing what he would be asked to do, only knowing he would do it.

The church clock began to strike 8.30, Annie at last stired.

“Here, Mark,” she handed him a small whip, coiled and waiting, evil as a small snake. He shook out the coils, and swung it round a few times, unsurprised, ready to carry out her will. Tamasine fought the silencing leather gag.

The garage walls sharded light from racked tools, the shadow of the whip screeched across them, the sound of the lash meeting Tamasine’s body loud enough to thrill them all. And again, sharp lash on soft body, cutting across her back, her thighs, the tip catching a breast, navel, cheeks exposed and waiting, the last found them, wrote red lines of pain and tomorrow’s bruises.

Tamasine spun and turned, her body crying for freedom. Her eyes showed pain but also complete submission to both her twin sister and the man who hold the whip. Had she been free to shout she would not have asked for mercy.

“More, Mark more!” Anastasia, fingers massaging her own clit. “Come on, whip her properly!”

Mark stopped and looked at her, saw the fingers busy inside her briefs, shook his head.

“Damn it, Annie, why am I doing this and not that?”

“Because I damn well said so!” Her face contorted with pleasure, orgasm shaking every part of her body. Tamasine hung watching envious aching and longing for her own release.

“I’m stopping.” Mark threw down the whip in disgust, lifted Tamasine and set her on the oily patch.

“Damn it, Mark, we weren’t through!”

“We were, Annie, and if you feel anything at all for your sister, you’d know it too.” Annie went over to Tamasine untied her hands and then the gag. Tammy’s eyes were flooding with tears, she spat leather out and stormed.

“What were you doing there?”

“Enjoying myself, sis, weren’t you?”

“No I wasn’t!” Tears flowed, Tammy shuddered a few times, grabbed a dusty rag and wiped her face. “I hate you sometimes!”

“No you don’t, kiddo, no you don’t, because I know what you’re feeling - I get double pleasure.”

Tammy held out her arms, turned under the unforgiving light. Lines wove around her, uneven, here light here dark here on the verge of blood-letting here erotic and here sheer pain.

“Look at me, you let him do that!”

“Yes, and you loved it!”

Mark looked at them, disgusted, ardour cooled, determination flowing away into the dusty surroundings. He pushed open the huge metal door with one easy movement.

“I’ll see you girls another time. You’re perverted, that’s what you are!”

The garage door slammed shut. Annie burst into giggles, after a moment Tammy started laughing hysterically with her. Clutching one another they shook with merriment, picked up the whip and scattered clothes, switched off the light, going back in the house.

“Oh what a picture! His face!” Annie wiped her eyes and started laughing again. “What a wimp!”

Tammy nodded, now serious.

“We need to find a real man, Annie, someone who knows what there’re doing. I mean, look at me!” Mark, the most inexperienced of all the men they had coerced into their garage, and the most disappointing so far.

Annie looked her up and down.

“We do need someone else. You’re right, kiddo. No pleasure in that lot, was there? Oh the occasional one, here,” tracing a line across small round cheeks, “here,” a line from shoulder to waist.

Tammy nodded. “Those were good, but - we asked too much of him. I hope we haven’t lost him.”

“Mark? He’ll be back, where else could he get such adventures? Come on, we’d better get to bed. We’ve a long day tomorrow.”

Climbing stairs, feet hissing on thick pile carpet, Tammy pulled a face.

“Fancy spending a birthday being nice to all those simpering aunts, uncles and grandparents! If Granny Webster gives us a fiver, it’ll be hard going to say thanks, Annie!”

“I know, I know, but enough small bits of money adds up to something worthwhile, kiddo. And - who knows what a birthday might bring?”

“Bath salts and undies,” moaned Tammy, leaning against the bathroom door, absorbing coolness. “I’m gonna shower, Annie.”

“Sure thing. Listen, see you in the morning, kiddo, and - Happy birthday in advance.”

“Happy birthday. Annie.”

“I bet I can guess what you bought me.”

“What?”

“Undies.”

“Wrong first time.” Tammy laughed, gently touching her lines. “You’ll have to wait for the morning to find out.”

“O.K. Want to know what I got you?”

“New collar, I suppose.”

“Metaphorically speaking, my dear twin, metaphorically speaking. Like me, you’ll have to wait for the morning to find out. Night, kiddo and thanks.”