Micky pushed the vacuum cleaner back and forth over the carpet. She liked cleaning, it was mindless work that did not require too much concentration. It allowed her time to reflect on things, process her thoughts and centre herself.

As a slave, she had quite a bit of alone time regardless, as her owner was quite the fan of periods of solitary confinement. Though that was mostly saved as a punishment.

It had been six months since she had been collared. The frosts of January when she had first met Samantha Peccato had passed. Spring had sprung and summer was here. Plus for once the English summer was not two days of sun followed by a thunderstorm. This year the summer was being described as a scorcher by the tabloids. One was counting the days until a drought was officially declared. Another was bemoaning world leaders for dragging their heels on solving global warming, prophesying rising sea levels and bizarrely a coming ice-age. Micky could do with the latter, as being dressed in latex during a heatwave was hell.

Her French maids uniform was not too bad. The short sleeves and loose skirt meant only the tight bodice clung and stuck to her. Mistress was cutting her some slack though. Her sessions as a pony were now performed buck naked, though she was developing some interesting tan lines on her face.

Micky new something out of the ordinary was happening today. What the something was she did not know. But Mistress had cleared the calendar. There were no clients in either the stables or the dungeon. In the past, this had only happened when Mistress wanted to devote her time to her slave or if she was entertaining someone who could not ‘discover’ her clients.

Still, Micky did not overthink or worry about what that something could be. One thing she had learnt to do as a slave was to go with the flow. As a slave, she followed orders and obeyed commands. Mistress would tell her what was happening in her own time.

She was idly curious though. It couldn’t be a tattoo. Tattoos were placed upon a whim and had not warranted the calendar being cleared. The classic ‘Property of’ resided on her backside. A kitsch ‘SLAVE’ sat brazenly upon her mons along with the BDSM triskelion adorning her right shoulder. Her left arm was slowly being covered with a tattoo sleeve, comprised of pictures of herself in various bondage ties and positions. Mistress was very good at photo-real tattoos and so anyone looking at her bare left arm was left in no doubt what her owner used her for.

It couldn’t be a piercing either as all the promised jewellery had now been placed. So that left a vanilla visitor. But who could it be? Mistress hardly new anyone not in the scene, and the only vanilla visitors so far had been some landscape gardeners and a builder.

The carpet cleaned Micky unplugged the hoover and wrapped the cable around the machine. Mistress had confessed once that the only reason she kept the out of date machine was it ensured Micky bent over lots in her maid uniform. Even after six months that thought still made Micky blush.

“Kneel, slave,” came the command from Mistress as she strode into the room without warning. Reflexively Micky dropped to her knees and assumed the kneeling position her owner expected. Predictably Micky felt a tingle of arousal down below, that she still reacted this way told her she had made the right choice in accepting Mistress’s collar.

Mistress had never stopped letting Micky know that she was loved. There were a few constants though. It was not role play. Micky or Mikaela as Mistress called her never using her nickname, was never allowed to forget her status. She was always collared. She was always dressed in latex. Micky was forbidden the use of Samantha's actual name. Mistress herself would call Micky love, darling or baby as often as slut, slave or girl. But Micky always called her love, Mistress.

Mistress never asked Micky's permission for anything. As tender and loving as she was, if she wanted to add a tattoo, a piercing or use Micky sexually she simply did.

Sex was as likely to be a gentle almost vanilla rendezvous in bed as a sadomasochistic session in the dungeon. Mistress was a passionate and inventive lover and Micky was amazed at the woman's libido.

But Mistress did not keep Micky locked away either. If Mistress left the house she almost always took Micky with her. She had been led on a leash through shops and high streets in Exeter, Yeovil and Taunton as well as London on one amazing weekend-long shopping spree. Micky had become inured to the stares and leering looks of strangers. She was proud to belong to Mistress, and Mistress was clearly proud of her slave to show her off as she did.

"We will be entertaining a guest later today, Mikaela," said Mistress stopping in front of her kneeling slave. "It's probably unnecessary to remind you of your station, my love, but I especially don't want you to forget you are a slave around this guest."

"Yes, Mistress." Micky was confused. She absolutely identified as a slave. Why on earth would Mistress think she would slip now, after all this time?

"Just so we are clear, my love. Best behaviour, I need you to make me proud today."

"Mistress, I am proud to be yours. I am happy to be a slave. Nothing could make me behave otherwise."

"Good girl," smiled Micky's owner. "Now we have a couple of hours. So put the cleaning stuff away and get your skinny arse down to the stables. I fancy a couple of circuits or the grounds before I have to become The Lady of the Manor."

"Oooo! YES, Mistress," grinned Micky. She wasn't especially excited to be doing two laps of the grounds. But Mistress, after staring at her slave's backside and whipping her on, would be as horny as hell by the end of the journey. Hot pony sex loomed.

Once Micky had stowed the cleaning gear and stipped off her latex uniform, she ran naked, bar her collar, down to the stables. Mistress was waiting dressed in jodhpurs, a crisp white blouse and glistening riding boots.

Mistress wasted no time in tacking up her mare. Pony boots were laced on tight and Micky's arms secured in a leather box tie armbinder. Her harness was put on next. Mistress hauling hard on the straps that secured the waist belt to ensure there was no chafing.

Mistress then produced the bit and bridal. Micky dutifully opened her mouth wide to accept the bit. Mistress deftly tightened the straps around her head, pulling the bit deeper into her mouth stretching her lips tight over her teeth. Mistress had hinted that she may have Micky's rear teeth pulled sometime in the future, so she could no longer bite down on the bit.

Finally Mistress, with a hand placed on Micky's neck, bent her slave forward so she could install the mare's tail. Micky secretly loved this part. The fullness of the plug in her rectum. Her burning sore ring, smarting from the plug's insertion. Along with the humiliation of being dehumanised by having a pony's tail attached. Today was no exception. The cool, lubed up, tip of the plug was presented to Micky's rosebud. Mistress pushed it home forcefully but steadily. Micky bore down on the plug, to ease the progress of the anal intruder. The plug was very large, and despite daily use, Micky's ring was on fire. Every time Micky wondered if she would tear, and then it was in and the pain stopped. To leave her full and throbbing and from that point onwards a ponygirl.

Tacked up Micky was no longer allowed to speak. Not even a mumbled phrase around the bit. She was now a dumb animal. Hoof stamps were her only means of communication. Micky liked the freedom this gave her. She had nothing to do but obey the reins and the whip.

Mistress led her to the trap and, after sliding the poles into the rings on her harness, attached the traces. Mistress then climbed aboard and, with a crack of the whip, they were off.

Two more stinging blows from the whip and a "giddy-up" from Mistress had Micky accelerating to a steady fast run. She was proud at how quickly she had mastered a fast pace in the pony boots. Mistress too had rewarded her for her swift progress. Amazed at how quickly her novice slave adapted to running, without her arms, in the heelless boots.

So delighted with Micky's progress was Mistress she had called in contractors to lay a tarmac track around the perimeter of the grounds. This made the little buggy easier for the ponygirl to pull and ensured the pony boots made a satisfying clip-clop sound on the hard pavement.

The track was about half a mile around so twice was a mile. The heat of the summer sun was intense and Micky was soon breathing hard and sweating profusely. She tried hard to maintain her pace and Mistress was ready with the whip if she detected any deterioration. The front gate was a quarter way around from the stables. So going past it the first time meant a quarter of a mile.

"Faster, Mikaela," encouraged Mistress as she cracked the whip. "I need a breeze to cool me, girl." Micky dug deep and tried to increase her pace as the lash hit home on her backside once more. She could run a mile at full canter normally, but the temperature was in the low thirties, and Micky was used to somewhere between ten and twenty degrees.

By the time the front gates hove into view once more, she was dripping with sweat, and there was spittal flying everywhere, Micky was dreading the final three quarters.

However just as they drew level with the gates Micky heard the sound of a motorbike engine and Mistress, pulling on the reins, brought the trap to a stop. The blinkers stopped Micky looking at the gate and her training kept her from turning to look. Instead, she concentrated on regaining her breath as she stood still between the poles of the trap.

Micky felt Mistress dismount and shortly after, over the sound of her panting, Mistress talk to someone. She could not make out the whole conversation. The idling bike engine and her laboured breathing masked a lot of the dialogue. There was a "You're early," and a "Miscalculated how long," in reply. Then a "go straight ahead and wait" followed by the electric whir of the gates opening.

The bike engine revved up once more and then suddenly it was stopped in the narrow field of view directly ahead of Micky. The bike was red and looked fast even when stopped. Mounted upon the machine was a slim woman hugged tight by black leathers. Her face obscured by the tinted visor of her crash helmet. The rider stopped long enough to look the ponygirl up and down and then raced off up the drive towards the manor house.

Mistress climbed back aboard and turned her mare towards the house too. "I'm sorry, Mikaela," Mistress soothed as she walked her pony back to the manor. "I know you were hoping for a pounding back at the stables. But our guest has arrived early. So I'll need you back as a maid and on hand as soon as you're untacked."

As they approached the manor house Micky spotted the woman still sat on her bike. She had parked in the shade near the steps to the front doors, the jacket and helmet had been removed, but her face was obscured by her long blonde hair as she looked down at her phone. Before they got close enough for Micky to see if it was anyone she knew Mistress turned the trap and Micky's view of the woman was cut off by the blinkers.

Mistress dismounted and came and stood in front of Micky, "Okay slave, walk yourself back to the stables and I'll come and unhitch you once I have our guest sorted. Micky stamped once and nodded to acknowledge the order and proceeded to walk back to the stables with the empty trap still attached.

As she waited patiently for her owner to return and release her from her bondage she pondered why a woman would be visiting. Clients, so far, had all been men. It was not her GP, but Mistress had yet to take her to a dentist. It had been six months so that could be it. But while a doctor could visit surely a dentist would need you to go to them. Perhaps she was a lawyer or an accountant. The bottom line was Micky did not have a clue and would simply have to wait for Mistress to return.

In due course, Mistress arrived. She unhitched Micky from the trap and released her arms from the armbinder.

"Okay, girl, with your arms free you can remove the rest yourself. Clean the tack later. I want you showered and in a maid uniform asap." Then as an afterthought, "Oh, and pop a propper ball gag in before you join us."

Still gagged by the bit Micky had nodded at her owner who promptly spun and marched out of the stable. Micky wasted no time in removing the leather tack, starting with the bridle just to stop the drooling it induced. Once free of the bondage she hung the sweat-soaked items away from the clean equipment so she could clean it, as instructed, later. She removed the boots, and finally, extracted the tail from her arse.

She then jogged into the house heading straight down to the basement where the dungeon was located. It was here too that Micky's quarters were. Well, quarters was a wee bit too grand a title for what was, to be frank, a cell. Three times Mistress had kept her locked in over periods of more than three days. All were punishments. Behind the heavy steel door was a white, tiled space. On one wall was a bunk with a black latex covered foam mattress. There was also a sink, toilet and a shower head over a drain in one corner.

Micky went straight to the shower and turned it on full blast and cold. She gasped involuntarily as the icy water struck an almost physical blow. Then revelling in the cooling water as it seemed to suck the heat from her body. Mindful that her owner was waiting she quickly added some hot to the mix and using some shower gel hung from the shower tap lathered and washed away the stink of her recent exercise.

After treating herself to another quick blast of cold Micky turned off the shower and, using a towel attached to the rail it hung on by a short chain, dried herself off. Once dry she made her way into the dungeon and she selected a clean maid uniform from the clothing racks.

As she donned the latex uniform she caught sight of herself in one of the many mirrors in the dungeon. With her blonde hair cut short and shaved at the sides, the deep tan from daily work as a pony contrasting with both the bright silver piercings and the black tattoos; she hardly recognised herself.

Once she had kept her hair a similar length to the biker visiting Mistress upstairs. Before meeting Mistress, Micky had never considered either getting a tattoo or a piercing. Plus working nights and sleeping days had meant she'd seen little of the sun prior to her enslavement.

Now she was fitter, healthier and happier than she had ever been in her life. Mistress was meticulous in controlling Micky's diet and exercise regime. Mistress looked after her slave better than Micky had looked after herself when free.

The uniform on and polished to a glossy shine Micky took a harness ballgag from a rack and buckled it in tight. Once she would have been tempted to not do it up as tight as she could. The few occasions in the past she had made that error Mistress had used as painful teaching opportunities.

Suitably attired Micky made her way to the living room. The guest was sitting with her back to the door. Mistress, sat on the other side of the coffee table facing her. As soon as Micky entered she looked up, "Ah, Mikaela, good. Tea for two please, girl."

Micky nodded and spun around to head back to the kitchen. Five minutes later she teetered back into the room with a tray containing a brewing teapot, milk, sugar and two cups and saucers.

"Good girl, Mikaela," purred Mistress as Micky sat the tray down on the low table. "So, Agnetha, how do you like your tea?"

Micky, free of the tray, turned to look at Agnetha with a start. It was! It was Aggy! Turmoil overtook Micky. She wanted to hug her sister. But Mistress had been clear; "Remember you're a slave."

Covering her shock as best she could she smoothed down her skirts and backed away from the table before kneeling as she had been taught. She was aware now that both Mistress and her sister were watching her intently. Mistress was smiling broadly, clearly pleased. Aggy had the gloating sneer on, that used to appear every time she bested her little sister at whatever game they were playing.

"I've got to hand it to you, Samantha. That's quite a change you've wrought upon my sister there. I hardly recognise her."

"How so? To me, she seems much unchanged, but perhaps I'm too close. Your tea?"

"White, two, please. Umm well, the pale nerdy girl who liked playing on her console is now fit and tanned. It looks like there are real muscles under those curves."

"Ah, I see, well I never knew the girl you describe. Though I can attest she has worked hard to please since the day I collared her. She is a wonderful slave and any improvement in her physique is due to her diligence, hard work and submission."

"A wonderful slave? Do you two never stop roleplaying?"

"Never. I don't see this as roleplaying and I'm pretty sure your sister doesn't either. I am her owner. She is mine. That she is happy with this is coincidental."

"Wow! I never realised you were into this so hardcore. So the collar never comes off?"

"Never, nor will it."

"Damn!"

"Now Agnetha, sorry if this appears rude but you asked for this meeting. We've indulged in small talk since you've arrived. I figured you were waiting for your sister to appear. May I be blunt and ask what it is you are after?"

Aggy looked rueful to Micky as if she was embarrassed.

"I may have made a mistake Samantha, I thought I was... well a sister in law, sorta. You and my sister being a couple I thought I may be able to ask a favour as... family?"

"Oh! Oh dear. I see. Well, I'm not a monster. I do love your sister. Umm, in these modern times people are forging all sorts of new types of relationships. I understand your confusion. I also see why you feel you've misjudged this. Why should I feel obliged to help out the sister of my slave? I certainly don't indulge my slave in un-earnt treats." Mistress appeared to ponder. "What were you going to ask? You've nothing to lose by asking. You've explained your position; I'll not be offended."

"I think I need to explain a bit before I ask if that's okay?"

"By all means," smiled Samantha.

"Well, Micky and I were close as sisters. We were born within eleven months of each other and were in the same year at school. Lots of people thought we were twins. But no one ever mistook us for the other. Micky was shy, meek and a bit of a nerd. I was... uh, precocious may be a good word. I was the trouble maker and Micky was my wingman.

Now Micky, six months ago put the cat amongst the pigeons by telling our parents she's gay. I, on the other hand, have been in the closet since the age of twelve and had no intention of breaking my bigoted father's heart more than it is. Our parents have been patiently waiting for grandkids. Since Micky came out that's put a lot of pressure on me.

That pressure was felt by Clive, too. Clive knew I was gay but was happy to pretend to be my boyfriend in front of my parents. The extra pressure broke that deal and he bailed."

"Are you blaming Mikaela or me for any of this, Agnetha?"

"Hell, no! This is my cowardice, my dad's expectations and piss poor timing is all. But it gets a little worse. Clive was helping me cover because I'd caught him stealing hard drives from the works computers. He was swapping them for buggered ones. I work in IT and agreed to turn a blind eye.

Clive quite his job as well as his position as a fake boyfriend. Then I get caught and blamed for his misdeeds by the private detective brought in to find out why so many hard drives were failing. I got fired."

"This is all very unfortunate but where do I fit into this?  Are you looking for a loan?"

"Oh no, I'm not in financial trouble. So I'm sacked without references and my name is mud in my industry. But I remember my sister explained to me how you had made your wealth. So I thought I'd give it a go."

"Oh dear..."

"Yeah, I'm sure you guessed it. I bought a rubber catsuit and some sex toys. You know; whips, furry handcuffs and the like. Advertise on the net."

"My first client stole his money back when I wasn't looking. The next three all wanted blow jobs. They left disappointed but did not pay either. The fourth locked me in my handcuffs and would have raped me but for a fortuitous visit from my neighbour."

"Ouch!" Sympathised Samantha.

"Yeah, which brings me to my question."

"Go on," encouraged Samantha.

"Could you train me to be a dominatrix, please? Oh, and perhaps put some of your sort of clients my way once you're happy I'm good enough?"

"Well now, there's a couple of problems with that. I'm sure my slave told you I was myself trained by a pro-domme myself?"

"Yes, she did. Something about you sat in on sessions as a piercer I believe."

"That's how we met yes. But we became friends, best mates in fact, long before she put pro-domme work my way. It was our friendship, plus her seeing I had the right personality that prompted her to act as she did. The second issue is how she trained me. I think you're unlikely to like it."

"So the first is motivation. Why should you? The second is you don't think I would be up for your training regime."

"Yeah, that sums it up... However..." Samantha stared hard at Agnetha. "What do you think of your sister now? Not as a sister but from the viewpoint of a gay woman."

"If she weren't my sister I'd want to fuck her blind. Everything you've done to her... just wow... I mean... My kid sister is kneeling there gagged and oozing sex appeal in spades."

"How do you think she feels about this?"

"I don't understand? Umm, I guess she's happy too?"

Empathy, Agnetha, is what separates the girls from the dominatrixes. Anyone can sneer and crack a whip. But a good domme can get in her clients head. They know what their slave is feeling. So they know when to be a bitch or to be a friend. How do you think Trisha taught me that?"

"I honestly have no idea."

"There is only one way to find out what it's like to be strapped into an armbinder. There is only one way to find out how much nipple clamps hurt. A good chef tastes the food they serve."

"Oh... I see." Agnetha turned a looked at her sister. "So the only way I can learn what Micky's going through..."

"...is to go through it yourself." Finished Samantha for her.

"Plus you are unmotivated to train me," added Agnetha.

"Today highlighted to me that I'm understaffed. I usually have my clients on-site. But the second I was alone with Mikaela... I'm prepared to make you an offer, Agnetha."

"Really?"

"I'll train you as you ask. I'll even give you some clients. But you'll have to serve an apprenticeship. I was on-site for my teacher as a piercer at first.  You have no such cover. You, like your sister, would have to accept my collar. If you wear my collar, and serve as a slave, for a year. I will then train you.

Micky stared at her sister. She looked almost panicked, feral. Like a cornered animal. She pointed at Micky, "You'd turn me into that?"

"I once called Trisha Mistress. I know how it feels to be caged. How much a single tail whip hurts. The warmth of a flogger or the despair induced by solitary confinement. It was not truly my cup of tea. I'm naturally dominant. But it taught me a lot. Understanding that makes me a better dominatrix. Which in turn enables me to charge the high prices I do. Nothing worth having ever came without hard work and sacrifice. Are you prepared to put in the work?"

"Oh, God! I was hoping you'd give me some pointers, let me practice on some of your clients while supervised. I didn't come here to be enslaved."

"Of course you didn't dear. I'm not trying to coerce you. If you don't accept this position I'll simply advertise. But it is a good opportunity for you. I really did acquire this house and my Aston Martin with the proceeds of my Dominatrix work."

"What does being your slave entail?" Micky shivered at this question from her sister. Was she actually considering this?

"You would become my property. I would expect you to obey me in all things. This includes sexually..."

Samantha stood and crossed to a sideboard and opened a drawer, removing from withing a steel collar similar to the one locked on Micky. This collar was not as tall as Micky's but seeing it Agnetha still looked startled and a little scared.

"Fair warning. As a pro-domme, I don't fuck my clients. But I do offer the good ones the use of my slaves' mouth. Slaves are sex toys after all. I don't allow clients to mess with my slaves' cunts or arseholes. I, however, expect total obedience and full access. Finally, you will, unlike your sister, have a safeword. Use it once and the activity that causes it will be postponed one week. Use it a second time and you will be freed. The deal will be off and you will have to make your way without my help. If within that year you ask me to keep you, three times on different weeks, the deal will be off, the safe word will be void and the collar will become permanent."

"Oh, fuck, I don't know."

"I will train you, Agnetha. There will be an opportunity to earn good money. Live a luxurious lifestyle. One year out of your life, to gain a little perspective on your chosen career?"

"God damn! Fuck! Shit! Umm...", Agnetha put her arms down by her sides and let out a long breath. "Yes! Okay..? Yes. Umm, what now?"

"Stand and strip naked, girl."

"Really? No paperwork?"

"Nothing we are about to do is legally binding. You have my word. I have yours. Your sister witnessed it. I'm not forcing you yet. Until my collar is locked in place you are obeying because you want to. I will only enforce my will once you are collared. Now I will not ask a second time; strip naked."

Micky watched her sister hastily strip. Aggy a slave too? Mistress was hers. Why was Aggy spoiling her perfect life? Jealousy started to smoulder in Micky's breast. Aggy always spoiled things.

Once Agnetha was naked Samantha directed her to stand in the middle of the room before summoning her slave to come to stand facing her.

"Agnetha, please remove your sisters' gag for me," directed the dominatrix. Micky turned around so her sister could reach the buckles, and once removed returned to face her once more.

"Now we need to address an elephant in the room," said Samantha. "You two, being sisters, may be wondering what, if any, plans I may have for you to interact once collared. Also, I have no doubt the first embers of jealousy are starting to smoulder in the breast of Mikaela."

Micky blushed deep crimson with shame at her owner's accusation. The truth of the statement stung.

"So, Mikaela my dear. I don't say these words out loud very often but now seems appropriate. I love you. I love you with all my heart. I will always love you and I'm never going to let you go.  You are my slave. You will always be a slave, and I am only ever going to treat you as a slave. You are my lover but you are my property too. As my slave, a loved and cherished slave, you have dutifully sucked the cocks of my clients. You have obediently served dinner guests, given my friend's rides as a pony and devotedly followed on a leash in public. This is another adventure. Obey as always and trust your Mistress."

Samantha was standing close to the sisters now. She turned to Agnetha.

"You asked me if I was going to turn you into 'that', which is a pretty unflattering way to describe the love of my life. The straight answer is; that it will be up to you. Now I am going to give you some instructions and ask you some questions. Failure to obey means no collar and the deal is off. Do you understand?"

"Yes," blurted Agnetha as she looked ahead into her sisters' eyes.

"Good, so first instruction; from now on you will address me as Mistress every time you speak. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Excellent! Now I want you to examine the collar around your sister's throat. Touch it, trace the curves with your fingers, handle the ring at the front. Do this and describe to me what you find, how it makes you feel, what you think of it."

"Yes, Mistress," retorted Agnetha, gingerly reaching up to touch her sisters' fetter. "It's warm," she reported, "I thought it would be cold. It's heavier than it looks too, Mistress. Micky's skin under it is pale, quite a tan line. It seems very snug, I can't get my pinky under it. I cannot see a keyhole, Mistress, there are two fine seams either side but no obvious way of releasing it."

"How does it make you feel, girl?"

"Excited and scared. I'm frightened of what it would feel like to be in the same situation as my sister, but curious too. It's beautiful but scary. It looks so... so claustrophobic, Mistress."

"Good, now kiss your sister. But not chastely, but as a lover would."

"But she's my sister, Mistress."

"She is a slave. My slave. I'm allowing you to use my slave. It is an honour that I am willing to share her with you. She will not be unwilling. Kiss her."

"But it's incest. It's wrong."

"Says who?"

"Everyone, Mistress."

"Why?"

"I don't understand."

"Why is incest wrong? Many commonly held taboo's or laws have reasons. Sex outside marriage was frowned on because it was considered necessary for both parents to provide for any children resultant from sexual congress. Muslim's who religion originated in a desert land, where water was scarce, eat with their right hands and clean themselves with their left. So why is incest wrong?"

"To stop inbreeding I suppose."

"Correct, this is the basis for the cultural taboo. You are a gay woman. Will a child issue forth from you or your sister if you were to be intimate with her?"

"No, Mistress."

"Is either of you a minor in need of protection?"

"No, Mistress."

"So sex between two consenting adult siblings of the same gender is on a par with masturbation? Something else that is commonly considered a sin, along with homosexuality. Stop stalling. Kiss your sister."

Agnetha turned to her sister and embraced her shoulders. As she leaned in Micky reciprocated, aware of the unspoken implication that her Mistress required them both to kiss as lovers. Agnetha was clearly surprised at the passion and warmth of her sister's kiss but rather than break it off, returned the act with equal ardour.

"Okay, girls you may now stop kissing. Gah, you tear down a wall and suddenly they can't keep their hands off. Mikaela, kneel."

Micky dropped to her knees assuming the standard position, of spread knees, wrists crossed and held behind with her tits held up and proud.

"Agnetha, please spread your legs for your sister that she may pleasure you. Cross your wrists behind you while you're about that too."

Hesitantly Agnetha complied apparently uncertain if she was ready to suffer her sister's cunnilingus. She gasped as Samantha stepped up behind her and took each wrist in turn and secured them with a set of shackles.

"Mikaela, begin," instructed Micky's owner. Micky did not answer her Mistress but instantly lent forward and began with long slow licks on either side of her sister quim. It was clear her sister was highly aroused, her moist lips nearly dripping with desire.

A long slow moan of pleasure escaped Agnetha as her submissive sister continued her work. As Micky's tongue probed deeply, Samantha moved around to her side and whispered into her ear.

"Being my slave has its rewards. There is always a carrot though it will not save you from my stick. I am a sadist, your sister a masochist, the next question is what are you?"

There was a whoosh followed by a crack. Agnetha squealed as a line of fire crossed her naked behind. The fire quickly converted to heat though and seemed to spread to her groin. A lusty sigh betrayed her pleasure.

"So a masochist like your little sister. There doesn't appear to be much of a dominatrix within you, my dear." As Samantha spoke she lifted the cold steel collar to Agnetha's neck. "I suspect you'll be wearing this collar for much more than a year." The collar closed with a click.

A stuttered, "Y-yes, M-mistress," was all Agnetha could manage as her sister tormented her from below.