A Matter of Trust

by [email protected]

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© Copyright 1999 - [email protected] - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; M/f; bond; dungeon; first; spank; crop; paddle; whip; cuffs; blindfold; oral; strapon; pegging; horse; playroom; gag; cons; XX

WARNING! This story is only for adults over the age of 18 and contains Strong Sexual Content. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only, and the author does not in any way condone similar behavior. If you are under the age of 18 or 21 and reside in a state, country, or planet that prohibits such behavior, stop reading immediately!!

Archiving permitted, but only if you include this statement of limitation of use and notify the author by e-mail.

The author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format.

However, individual readers may make single copies of the story for their own non-commercial use.


Attn: Readers please feel free to send an e-mail to me. I do want to hear from you!

1 – The Beginning

I was seated behind my desk, crossing off items on my to-do list, figuring out what projects I was going to take on tomorrow when the phone rang. Glancing at the clock on my desk, I realized that it was close to quitting time; and I just hoped that it wasn’t the boss dumping a project on me before leaving.

“Bonnie?” asked the caller.

“Yes, Brenda,” I answered. It was Bonnie, my identical twin sister.

“I’m so glad I got you at your desk. Look, I’m in San Francisco, and I did something really dumb. I left some files on my PC at home that I really need for a business meeting tomorrow. Could you possibly go by my apartment, and send them to my email address?”

“Sure, what are they?”

I spent the next few minutes writing down the names of several files and their locations. After hanging up, I found that there wasn’t anything else left to do, so I closed my briefcase, and headed for the subway.

Brenda, lucky her, has a lovely apartment in Chelsea, while I rent half a house in Queens. We have keys to each other’s apartments and keep an eye on the place when we’re either traveling or on vacation.

Ascending the stairs up to Eighth Avenue, I joined the rush of folks going home, and wished that I lived here in Chelsea. If only I could afford the rent.

I quickly walked over to her building, opened the street door, and took the elevator up to her floor. I opened the door, and entered, leaving my case on the floor while I removed my coat and hung it in the closet.

I removed a soda from the fridge, walked into her home office, and turned on the PC. While that was booting up, I washed my face in the bathroom and kicked off my high heels.

When I seated myself in front of her PC, I was more than a little surprised. Instead of one of the usual Windows scene there was a picture of a naked woman, bound to a footstool, getting spanked by someone.

“Well,” I said to myself, “something’s going on.”

I spread the list of files on the desk next to the PC, and set up the mailings that Brenda wanted. Once ready I logged on, and sent them. After a bit, I hit Send & Receive; and Brenda sent a message:

“Thanks Sis; I’ll explain everything later. And it’s OK to snoop, there are no secrets between sisters, especially now that it’s out of the bag. Love, Brenda.”

“Hmmm,” I said aloud.

Logging off, I went looking through Brenda’s PC. What I found was, well, a little shocking. Pictures of women in bondage. Stories that she had gotten off the Net. It was quite a shock to discover what Sis was involved in.

Brenda had a nice two-bedroom apartment, with a full kitchen and bath. Her office was in her spare bedroom, and I went to hers. Opening the closet, in the back I found some outfits in PVC & leather.

“Sis, you’ve got some explaining to do,” I concluded, especially after I saw the paperbacks on her night table.

On her night table were some adult paperbacks; with covers of women in bondage. I read the covers of a few of them, and whistled aloud to myself.

2 – The Idea

“Will that be all?” asked the waitress as she placed our dinners on the table.

Brenda was having a plate of sizzling fajitas, and I was having a steak and French fries. We were eating at a chain restaurant together in Manhattan, as we did every Tuesday night after work.

“Okay, Bonnie,” said Brenda after the waitress walked away, “I know that look: out with it.”

“Well you did say it was OK to snoop. What’s going on?” I asked.

“There’s no easy way to explain this. I got into BDSM, call me a slave or a submissive, and I belong to a truly wonderful man.”

“What? I asked, “how?”

“I was at a gallery opening and I got introduced to this very good looking, intelligent man. Attractive, good in bed, it was love at first sight. Then one night, he asked me if I would let him spank me, and I agreed. I just loved it, and there’s no rational way to explain it. And ever since, we’ve been, well getting into the scene.”

“But you were such a prude.”

“Not that much of a prude. Remember Sharon, my college roommate?”

“Sure,” I said, taking a bite of my steak.

“For entertainment, she used to read Porn. She started me off by reading The Story of O; for the next four years in between schoolwork I read everything that she did.”

“So that’s why you were so eager to get back to school every September.”

“Yup. I certainly wouldn’t buy those books on my own, but she did. She went down to the adult shops to buy cheap paperbacks. I just loved the bondage ones from House of Milan; they seemed a bit better written than some others.”

“But you didn’t do anything with your interest, did you?” I asked.

“Not until I met Sam at the party. I’d always dreamed of meeting a Dominant like those in the books that I read; but never believed it possible.”

We ate in silence for a while, Sis giving me time to digest her revelation.

“Just what do you do together?”

“All sorts of things. Spanking, bondage, gags, and he uses a riding crop, a small whip, and cat, on me. Blindfolds and hoods also.”

“And this turns you on?”

“You bet. Before I met Sam, if you put sex on a scale of ten, vanilla sex would be a five. Now it’s a ten and sometimes even better.” she declared.

We drank together in unison; and I wondered if the couple in the next booth was overhearing us. If so they didn’t give any indication of it.

“That’s quite an admission,” I observed.

“Yes. I read that we all have secret fantasy lives. Mine was always to be used by a Master. And the city gives you opportunities. There are a few fetish shops in my area I patronize; and Sam and I go to clubs in the city. It’s great. You probably think that I’m a pervert, right?” she asked.

“No,” I said, swallowing a French fry, “because I’ve got a little lifelong secret also. I want to find a Master as well.”


“Identical twins share the same desires; maybe they are hard wired into our genes. You know all of those studies? Twins marry; have the same type of husbands and sexual desires and experiences; even down to the number of children. Well I guess that I’m like you.”

“How did this happen?”

“One day in college I wandered into an adult book store, saw a magazine of pictures of women in bondage. I brought it back to the dorm and was masturbating myself when my roommate walked in. She called me a filthy pervert and walked out. Ever since then I’ve satisfied myself with porn as well. I asked a previous boyfriend to spank me once and he refused.”

“I guess that identical twins do share the same desires then.”

“I’d like to do a scene with someone,” I said.

“Why that’s great. I’ll tell Sam, he knows lots of people in the scene; and I’m sure that he’ll be able to find someone for you.”

“No,” I answered, “I want your Master to introduce me to D/s.”


“Well you did say that he was a great Master. Was that his picture on your night table?”

“Yes. Sis you can’t do a scene with Sam pretending to be me. It’s not like when we were in High School and we switched dates one night. There’s a greater degree of trust in a D/s relationship. When I kneel naked before him, and he places a collar on me, I trust that he’s not going to hurt me, or do things I don’t like or am not physically able to do. And he trusts me that I’m not going to the cops and say that he beat me up. It’s a mutual trust that we share together. We may not have a written contract yet like some couples; but what you want to do is to deceive him.”

“But this would be the ideal way for me to get into the scene. To substitute for you and it would only be for one night.” I protested.

“Sam would be more than willing to introduce you to someone. But that would involve breaking a trust.”

“Isn’t there anything I can do?” I asked.

“Well if you could convince Aaron to spank you and place a few marks on you, then maybe I’d consider the idea.”

Aaron was my boyfriend of several months. He taught Math at one of the City High Schools; and he had met Brenda already. And she knew that he was a conservative type from our double dates.

“What if I didn’t go to Aaron?” I suggested.

“Who do you have in mind?”

“A professional dominatrix,” I answered bluntly.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Not at all.”

3 – The Consultation

For the hundredth time that week, I wondered if I was doing the right thing. I was in a small changing room, in a commercial Dungeon located in midtown.

Brenda evidently knew quite a lot of people in the scene, and she had told me where I could engage the services of one of her friends.

Carina, so Brenda had told me, was a psychology student at NYU, and was paying for her education by practicing her sexual interest Female Domination commercially.

So I had called the Dungeon, made an appointment (just like getting my hair done); then Carina had interviewed me (Have you ever done Bondage, Anal Sex, Water Sports? Like sex was some sort of checklist) then she showed me to the changing room to disrobe.

I removed my clothes, hung them up, and padded, naked to the Dungeon.

Carina was wearing a black PVC bodysuit, sheer to waist stockings, and a modest pair of high heels.

“Are you ready slave?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” I answered.

“Then kneel before me.”

I did as she instructed, and placed my hand on my knees. Something I had seen in a Porn film.

“Are you ready, Bonnie, to accept my discipline freely?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Without force or coercion?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“What is your safe-word?”


“Kiss my shoes then.”

“Yes Mistress.”

I bent down, and began to lick and kiss her high heels, which were PVC as well. Inside, I was shaking.

“Have you ever been touched by a woman before?”

“No, Mistress.”

Carina walked over to the couch, and sat down.

“Over my knees, sweetie. Time for a spanking.”

I draped myself over her lap, and steeled myself as I saw a paddle on the couch beside me.

“Owww.” I cried when her hand impacted onto my bottom, “Owww.”

“When you leave here, Bonnie, you’re going to have a very sore bottom.”

“Owww. Owww.” I cried.

Her hand continued to strike my bottom, first one ass cheek, then another. I tried to jerk away, but Carina was quite strong, and kept me seated on her lap. Once I had gotten used to having my buns warmed, I discovered that I was sopping wet between my legs. Probably the result of masturbating all those years in front of bondage porn films.

“Slut,” observed Carina as she felt my pussy.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Carina then continued with the paddle, each stroke landing harshly on my sore bottom. Crack. Crack. Crack. went the paddle each time it struck my ass.

“Kiss the paddle,” Carina ordered.

I obeyed eagerly, and kissed the handle when it was offered to me.

“On your knees.”

I resumed my position back on the floor, with Carina seated on the couch.

“I’m going to continue with the crop. I’ve already reddened your bottom, which will last for several days. The crop will hurt even more. Do you want to continue? Carina asked.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Carina led me over to a chain hanging from the ceiling, and she placed padded cuffs on my wrists and ankles. She attached my wrist cuffs to the ceiling chain, then a bar to my ankle cuffs. Activating a small motor, I was soon stretched taut.

“Aren’t we vulnerable?” asked Carina.

“Yes, Mistress,” I softly answered.

Carina circled me, then stopped at my back. Both her hands reached around me, finally pinching my erect nipples with her fingers. I stood in silence, feeling her PVC clad torso mold itself to my naked body.

“I’m going to hurt you, as you have never been hurt before. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I answered.

“No you don’t – not yet. Not until I’m finished will you understand,” cautioned Carina.

My first taste of the crop was a line of pain across my thighs. Carina followed that with another stroke, and then another. Each one landing in just the right place to inflict one new agony on my flesh after another. I had resolved to do this, no matter what the cost.

“Owww. Owwww. Owww.” I cried.

But I didn’t ask for mercy or use my safe-word. Not once. Even though tears ran from my eyes, as I was systematically cropped. My breathing became short and ragged, my body felt like it was on fire.

The flat leather pad at the crop’s tip was used between my legs to great effect. Anne-Marie was correct, as that flesh is indeed the most sensitive part of a woman’s body.

“Kiss the crop.”

I did so quickly, kissing the instrument of my torment when it was offered to my lips.

“Next, a short session with the whip. Then I shall attend to your holes.”

Carina displayed a whip, which she then used on me. It coiled around me, every time leaving a red mark on my flesh. After I had counted a dozen strokes, she offered me the handle.

“Sharon.” called Carina.

“Yes, Mistress.” answered a naked girl who literally ran into the Dungeon.

“Release this slut and take her to my bedroom, she’s getting the full treatment.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Carina left the Dungeon, and Sharon released me. I rubbed my arms to restore the circulation. I didn’t have to feel between my legs to know that I was sopping wet from the use that I had undergone. Sharon then locked my cuffs behind my back, then placed a blindfold over my eyes.

“Come, slave,” Sharon ordered.

The bedroom was a lush, silk laden affair that could have come from a Playboy Centerfold, except for the rings hanging from the walls. Carina was naked on the bed-sheets, her thighs open to reveal her modest pussy hair.

“Satisfy me, slut,” Carina ordered, the crop in her hands.

“Yes, Mistress.”

I hastened to comply, as I lapped at her moist cunt, quickly bringing her to climax. Who said that Porn flicks weren’t educational?

After bringing Carina to orgasm, it was my turn. I was bound onto spread-eagled onto the bed. Next, Carina strapped a modest sized dildo harness around her waist and hips, and knelt between my legs.

“Prepare to get fucked.”

As I was already wet, the rubber dildo slid easily into my sheath. Carina began to piston in and out, and quickly had me climax one after another.

“How’s that bottom of yours?”

She released me, and turned me over. I glanced in the mirror, and saw my bruised and red ass cheeks. Carina pushed some lubricant into my anus, then ever so gradually inserted the dildo up my bottom. I relaxed as best I could as my ass was impaled on the shaft.

After getting the dildo up my ass, Carina was finally satisfied. She stood up from the bed.

“You’ll do,” said Carina.

“Thank you, Mistress,” I answered.

4 – Mission Impossible

It was finally Saturday night, and I was scared to death. Brenda had been teaching me how to be her for days; and suddenly this little subterfuge didn’t seem like such a good idea after all.

It was a good thing that I kept myself in such good shape. Around her waist Brenda wore a thin chain, and one on her ankle as well. She had told me that some girls have tattoos or rings; which would have made our little charade impossible.

Brenda had told me everything about Sam that there was to know. How he behaved (like a perfect gentleman) and how I was expected to behave. To ask permission; to be submissive.

Sam may have taught in NYC but he lived on Long Island. So he drove into the city and picked me up at Brenda’s apartment. I wore her clothes and her scent, her chain around my waist, and waited nervous as hell. Brenda had gone to see a movie, so I was all-alone when the buzzer sounded.

I flew downstairs, and saw Sam standing next to his car, a blue Ford Taurus.

“Master,” I greeted him.

“Brenda,” he began, “you look simply wonderful, let’s go, shall we?”

“Yes, Master.”

He held the passenger door open for me, and I got in the car. He got in next to me, and we drove off. I watched him drive, and he made little small talk. Brenda had told me that Sam liked to concentrate on his driving, which worked out well for me.

Our date for this evening was to go out to dinner, then back to his house for our scene. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that I would collapse in fright when he would start to use me.

Before dinner he asked me what I wanted. Then in the restaurant, he made the final selection. I had to ask to go to the bathroom.

Next, after eating, we drove to his house. He owned a nice ranch house in Nassau, complete with “playroom.”

Outside of the playroom, I stripped naked. Sam’s attire was a black leather vest and jeans, with boots. We entered the playroom together, it was dark and back-lit.

“Are you ready, my dear?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Master,” I replied.

“Collar and bracelet yourself,” he ordered.

Hanging from the faux brick wall were a set of collar and bracelets for my wrists and ankles. Silently, I placed the implements of bondage on myself, then knelt in front of him in silence.

“I see that you still carry the marks from my last use of you,” he observed.

“Yes, Master.”

Brenda had given instructions on how I was to be used by her friend Carina in order that my marks should match hers. I had trouble sitting down all week at work.

“Good. Tonight, I shall place a few more upon you. Go to the horse, slave.”

I rose from the carpet, and walked to the vinyl covered horse, and stood before it in silence.

“Place yourself upon it.”

I threw my leg over it, and eased my sex down onto the vinyl. Sam locked my wrists together behind my back, then attached chains to my ankles.

“You will first stay on the horse for a while, then beg for your use.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sam went off to do something else in the house, leaving the playroom door open in case I should call for help. This gave me time to view the many implements that Sis had told me about. He had a pair of stocks, manacles hanging from the wall, a cage, a leather clad sofa, a throne like chair, plus a number of wall cabinets where he kept his toy collection.

Resting my entire weight on my sex was something that I had read about. However I wasn’t really prepared for just how uncomfortable it would be until I actually did it for the first time. I shifted with my bondage, trying to remove my weight from my pussy, squirming one way and then another.

But I resolved that having gone this far I wasn’t going to back out now. I sat and suffered in silence, knowing that this method of enduring pain was just his warmup to other things.

I didn’t know if I rested for ten minutes or an hour, but I sat on the horse, my pussy becoming steadily more uncomfortable as time passed. It seemed like an eternity.

“Ready for something else?” Sam asked when he appeared.

“Yes, Master,” I eagerly answered, “please – use me.”

He took a small cat, which was composed of several thin strands of leather. He used it on my jutting breasts and tummy, and the outside of my thighs. I took every stroke in silence, except for a few small grunts.

“Thank – Thank you Master,” I stuttered when he had finished.

“Kiss the cat.”

I did so immediately, wondering what was going to happen next. His right hand went to my sex, which was already wet.

“What a slut you are,” he sneered.

“Yes, Master,” I answered.

He unchained me, and ordered me over to the stocks. In no time at all, I was imprisoned, my head and arms and feet held immobile in the wood.

He produced a paddle, which he slapped against his palm.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl lately,” he intoned.

Had my subterfuge been discovered? Had I slipped up somewhere? Had he discovered that I was a fake?

“Yes, Master.”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Without any preliminary or warning, the paddle fell on my poor bottom, which was still red and had just healed from what happened the week before with Carina. Again I endured in silence, as he had not ordered me to count out each stroke.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

My bottom felt like it was on fire as the leather paddle repeatedly found its mark on my red flaming ass. It had been one thing to fantasize about being used by a Master; now I was having second thoughts? What could he do with the whip?

His hands opened the ass during a pause, he was gazing at my anal ring. One hand reached into my wet pussy lips, making me squirm and cry out. Then she started to play with and finally to pinch my nipples before he placed small clamps upon them.

“Enjoying yourself, slave?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Master,”

He then continued with a folded leather belt, which slapped against my poor confined body. I was so full of pent-up sexual energy, I felt like I was going to orgasm right there in the stocks.

“Control yourself, slut. Don’t come until I give you permission.”

“Yes, Master.”

Until now, I had just imagined what it was like to be stimulated during a session. But now, all my dreams of submission, all the nights when I masturbated with a book and my vibrator between my legs seemed to merge into the present. It was only with the greatest self-control that I managed not to come. Sam helped by stopping at the right time.

“Do you deserve to be whipped?”

“Yes, Master, yes.” I cried.

Whipped. For only the second time. I must have been mad, for in moments I was hanging by my wrists, my legs opened by a spreader bar. Then he approached me with a belt that I had only seen in catalogs. A dildo harness.

He drew the belt around my slender waist, then inserted the male shaft into my wet sheath, finally buckling the strap at my back. Then a simple ball gag was inserted into my mouth, and closed at the nape of my neck. He pressed a Casino Token into my hand.

“Since you can’t use your safe-word,” he cautioned.

He began with a long slender whip that he used ever so softly on my naked bound form. The whip circled and caressed my body, leaving thin red lines on my breasts, hips, and thighs. Being whipped and gagged at the same time was enormously stimulating, and I became dizzy as wave after wave of sensation rippled through me like electricity.

I lost track of time, and the number of strokes as he periodically circled around me, the tip finding new targets each time to strike. Had I not been gagged, I might have been screaming from pain or ecstasy or a combination of both.

My submissive dreams and the reality of finally experiencing a whipping then produced the greatest orgasm I ever felt. Suddenly my loins exploded, my heart bursting, every nerve in my body firing at once as a tidal wave of orgasm, one after another, exploded within me.

I wasn’t sure when it ended, when Sam released me and laid me on the carpet. He removed his vest and black jeans, and his massive erection was the most exciting thing that I had ever seen.

He took me right there on the carpet, not even waiting to carry me off to the bedroom. I was still gagged, and I bit and sucked at the red rubber ball in my mouth. Having my power of speech taken from me had produced the most exciting sex ever.

I arched my hips as he plunged his male shaft into me, surrounding his legs as he thrust into me, driving my bottom onto the carpet. I could feel the hardwood floor beneath, but I didn’t care. I surrounded his ass with my legs as he drove into my sheath.

Then came one earth shattering orgasm after another, and tears ran from my eyes and moans from behind the gag in my mouth. It went on forever and ever, and I didn’t remember anything after finally passing out from ecstasy and excitement.

5 – Denouement

The waitress placed our dinners before us. We were in a diner in Chelsea, where some local D/s munches meet. Maybe I’ll go to one someday.

“So, how was it?”

“It was great.” I answered, muting my voice. I described, in detail, everything that had happened that night between Sam and myself. I still had a hard time sitting down, and I spent hours admiring my marks in the mirror. But I never felt like this before.

“Do you want to continue in the scene?” Brenda asked.

I looked at my sister, and recalled all of the wonderful events that had led me to this point. Something didn’t add up.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “Sam didn’t ask me for a safe-word like Carina did. He knew that I wasn’t you didn’t he?” I questioned her.

“May I join you?” asked Sam, who had suddenly appeared.

He seated himself in the booth next to Brenda, who remained silent at that moment.

“Yes,” he began, “Brenda told me of the whole scheme. Not to do so would have broken the trust between us as a couple in a D/s relationship; and might have placed you in a potentially dangerous situation as well.”

“I feel betrayed, I wanted to show how submissive I could be in impersonating Brenda,” I protested.

“You have nothing to feel ashamed about, you performed very well indeed.”

“Thank you,” I answered.

“Thank you what?” he asked with steel in his voice.

“Thank you, Master.”

“That’s better.”

“Do you want to continue in the scene?” he asked.

“With you as my Master?” I asked hopefully.

“No, that would be too much of a male fantasy to have a pair of identical twins as my slaves. I can suggest a good friend of mine who is looking for someone right now.”

He passed me a picture of a man from his shirt pocket. On the back was a name: Michael. He was quite good looking.

“Well?” he asked.

“Could you place me in contact with Michael, Sir?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he answered.

As for what happened next, why that’s another story. For another day.



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