Winter’s Tale
10 Seventh night part 2 — Connected
We had surrendered our hearts, bodies and blood to our undying beloved, and were rewarded beyond all reason every time. Either ignorant or accepting of the ways Layla had already reshaped us, offering her our minds seemed the most natural thing in the world. What else was there to give? Though the answer to that riddle was obvious, we were in no mood to admit it.
So, under a clear, star-dappled sky, by an ancient elder tree we used to climb as children, we committed ourselves, rejecting all the stories Mother told to keep us safe. Instead, we recklessly and happily welcomed our fate, eager to give up our freedom for the darkest of pleasures.
“Let me try something simple to see how receptive you are,” Layla began. Her words, cloaked in that exotic accent, wrapped themselves around our burgeoning fantasies.
“I shall collar you first, as you suggested. It will place you into a submissive mindset and make you more open to my influence. Kneel,” Layla commanded. It was as if that imaginary slim, silver chain fastened to the hot, wet innards of my quim, yanked me to my knees. Such a simple decree yet so potent; my sex quivered at her command.
“Not you, Winter,” Layla said.
Rejection slapped hard. Bewildered, I could only stare at our beloved, speechless.
“Just Summer at first,” she consoled in a kindly tone, my confusion clear. “I expect you would want to observe what I do to your sister, which would be harder to do impartially if you are collared and sworn to obey my will. You should remain objective so you may protect her best interests. If my powers work on Summer, she will be very vulnerable, and your insight into how we take care of her would be useful to me. Plus, it will help you understand your own needs better when you see her submit.”
“Of course, beloved,” I said respectfully and stood back up, mollified but trying to conceal my disappointment. Summer remained on her knees, lost in adoration. If I did not feel jealous of my sister then, I never would, and yet there was not even a twinge of bitterness. So that was something, as was the appeal of seeing her controlled.
Foolishly, I had given zero reflection to how helpless both being under Layla’s control at the same time would make us. Blinded by lust, of the three of us, it was the vampire who was looking out for our welfare. Layla’s wisdom and consideration moved me. Luckiest girls in the world, that was us.
I stepped back watchfully as Layla reached into her shoulder bag and deftly retrieved one of those broad silver chokers. She held it like a sacrament before my twin’s adoring face.
“Now, Summer, you understand when I place this on you, you are agreeing to do whatever I tell you. Obeying my commands without question,” Layla demanded.
“Yes, Layla, I understand,” Summer said, pulling her lips tight to contain her arousal. I knew how turned on she was for I felt it too.
“Good. Know that this will be more profound than when last I collared you. My control will run much deeper. This band of silver will open your mind to anything I should choose to do to you. You understand, yes,” Layla stated. We had grown accustomed to when her questions were in fact demands. By the goddess, I loved seeing her like this, such authority, such confidence.
“Yes, Layla. I understand,” Summer said, a muted docility entering her voice.
“Good girl. Prepare yourself,” Layla commanded.
“Yes, Layla,” Summer responded. With her hair in a plait there was no need to scoop it out of the way; nonetheless, moving slowly, she lifted the braid above her head and held it high with both hands. My word, what a study of submission she was, as if she had rehearsed this a hundred times: deferential downcast eyes, lips slightly apart, knees spread wide, patiently awaiting her mistress. Perhaps it was vanity, but I had to concede, in that moment she looked sublime. For the first time it occurred to me that we were born for this.
“Good pet,” Layla said and smoothly slipped the choker into place, which I noted perfectly covered my sister’s bite mark. A cold, loud click announced its closure, provoking a soft gasp from Summer. Her eyes blazed wide, swept up to meet Layla’s, then narrowed with a look of intense concentration. Where had I seen that look before? On Bella, the jeweller at the fayre. The penny dropped. Layla must have exerted her powers over the trader on our first night together. I wondered why? Lucky bitch.
“Now, my pet, you want me to use my magic upon you. You want this very much and, because I love you, so I shall. Close your eyes and focus on the bond we share,” Layla shifted the pitch of her voice lower, brimming with sovereignty. Pale blue light flickered across her fingertips, faint but made distinct by the darkness, as she firmly placed them on my sister’s temples.
“Yes, Layla,” Summer breathed, obediently closing her eyes, brow furrowed in focus. Her voice held a clear deference that echoed my own barely contained desire to submit. A quiet pride crept through me that my suggestion about the collar had obviously worked. I watched, breathless, as Layla cast her spell.
“Our bond connects us, brings us joy, makes us one. Through it, I will give you what you want. I will guide you to your desire. I will influence you. I will gain power over you. You want this,” Layla stated. Her confidence made the assertions seem intuitively true. I could sense it and goddess only knows how Summer felt with the power of our beloved poured directly into her mind.
“Yes, Layla,” Summer spoke softer, slower. “I want this... I want this... I want this...” With each repetition she sank lower, her voice betraying less and less emotion.
“Then all you need do is focus on our bond and open your mind to me... Now!” Layla commanded. I felt the surge of submission from five feet away and wanted to fall to my knees to beg for her dominance. All that stopped me was an intense salacious curiosity to see her control my twin.
Summer’s frown was erased by the blossoming of a beatific smile, which in turn soon faded, taking with it all trace of expression, leaving her blank and at peace. If she were not kneeling, I might have thought her asleep.
“I have you now, Summer. Your mind is bound to mine. I feel the shape of it. You flow into me. I flow into you. You can feel me inside your mind, yes?” Layla asserted.
“Yes,” Summer calmly confirmed.
Could I sense something between them, just beyond the limits of my perception, an energy perhaps? The dark patches on Summer’s forehead that dedicated her to Dahlk glistened with tiny blue stars extinguishing one by one as I watched.
“Good pet. We shall now use our connection. Your name is flowing from your mind to mine. Give it to me now,” Layla demanded firmly.
“Yes, Layla,” Summer spoke from the depths of a dream. Was something passing between them, a hint of vapour, a trail of faded stars, flowing from her mark to Layla’s or was I only imagining it?
“Good pet. When I ask your name, you will find you cannot recall it. The more you reach for it, the more it will elude you, until you accept that it has passed through our bond and belongs to me now. You will only have a name if I give it to you,” Layla commanded. My pulse thundered in my ears. This was happening. Layla was using her power upon my sister, and it was so beautiful I wanted to cry.
“Awake,” Layla commanded and snapped her fingers in front Summer’s face. Her eyes flashed open, then blinked like a startled butterfly’s wings and looked about. A tension I had not noticed accumulating all over my body, suddenly released.
“What happened? Did you do it? Did you use your power on me?” she asked excitedly. Layla offered her a hand, which she took and hauled herself to her feet. In the face of our beloved’s grin and my wide-eyed stare, she looked a little confused. “Have you started yet? Have you finished? Did all go well? Did I do something wrong?”
“Not at all. You were most receptive. Let us see,” Layla said and then pointed to me. “Who is that?”
“Winter, my sister,” she answered, looking doubtful as to the question’s purpose.
“And who are you?” Layla asked.
“Eh? I am… her sister. I am… um…” she struggled to finish. “My name is… I… I do not know. I do not know. I… I have no name. You have my name.” She dragged ragged breath into her lungs as a shudder of submissive delight wracked her frame. She ran her hands ran over her hair, staring in disbelief at our beloved. “Thank you, Layla. You did it. Oh, thank you. I had no idea. You did this to my mind. I have no name!”
“It is mine now. I shall keep it safe,” Layla softly stated. Her authority seemed effortless, irresistible, unquestionable.
“Yes, Layla, thank you. This means so much, even more than I hoped. I am just so happy,” she enthused, took Layla’s hand and kissed her ring, as one would one’s liege. I was delighted for her, and though eager to be next I was content to bask in my sister’s joy.
“I declare that a successful test,” Layla announced.
“By the gods, yes. I had no idea you had done anything. This is extraordinary. I feel perfectly normal, but I suppose I am not. And so connected to you, beloved,” she said excitedly, running her hands over herself, unable to contain her excitement.
“Do you desire more?” Layla asked, though the answer was beyond obvious.
“Oh yes, please. Do more to me, much more, anything you wish. I want it, truly. Winter, you must try this,” she gushed.
Her bubbling enthusiasm was quite charming and augured well for my turn enjoying Layla’s attentions. The proof that her powers worked, not that we had doubted, escalated my desire to be at her mercy.
Directing my sister’s eyes to her own with a gesture, Layla exclaimed, “Mark well, now; see me, deep and true.” The intimacy of the moment elicited coy giggles, but they abruptly stopped. Summer fell into blank oblivion, still as a corpse, staring into space.
“You want this, Winter? To see? Come closer,” Layla beckoned me to her side, eyes an invitation, grinning teeth a promise.
After the shock of my exclusion, I was eager to join her and thrilled when she slipped an arm around my waist, grasping my hip. A simple touch, an over-friendly squeeze of my flank, tingled like slow lightning across my flesh. Yes, Layla, I wanted this very much indeed. She had been my girlfriend less than a week and I could not get enough of her.
“I have a firm grasp of her mind now. I dare say she has never been happier, locked away inside. What shall we do with her?” Layla asked.
She did nothing by chance. There was calculation in her question. Whatever she valued I felt obliged to understand why. Every new experience she had brought us had expanded our horizons marvellously, time and again. Now she wanted me to appreciate my beguiled sister, held captive by her magic.
Showing no reaction as we peered, my twin’s eerie stillness was disturbed only by gentle breathing. It was fascinating to have her at our mercy, her helplessness a pleasure that indicated a complicated, new emotion unfolding within me. I could not deny it was unexpectedly arousing. This was why Layla was showing me her control, she was inviting me to partake in it, inducting me into the delights of dominating another.
“This is a true marvel, beloved. Though I am unsure how to proceed, it is fascinating,” I answered.
Seeing my sister subsumed by her submissive desires, clarified how deeply rooted my own needs had become. I had no notion when my desire to be controlled became so overwhelming, but it now transcended even my yearning for our beloved’s bite. Despite that, Layla was giving me a glimpse of the joys on the other side of the coin. Having power over another gave our beloved a profound thrill. Could I enjoy that too? I curled my arm about her waist. She was the only fixed point in this world she had filled with so many new, disturbing pleasures. Unready for the direction Layla was taking me I followed regardless.
“She is beautiful like this, yes?” Layla declared.
“Yes, beloved,” I admitted. There was no denying what I felt, though I struggled with what it meant. If Layla said my twin was beautiful when entranced, then she was. Was she paying me an indirect compliment, trying to show me what I would soon become, or sharing her dearly held passion for dominance?
“Sister?” I called but drew not a flicker from her eyes. Then I tried to call her name and found it stuck in my throat. What was it? What was her name? I could see it but not recognise it. I shot a look at Layla who wore a half-smile, amused at my confusion. Pressing the side of my head, I tried to force out the knowledge I knew was there. She was my sister, as long as there had been me there had been us. Her name was as much mine as it was hers, but as Layla had drawn it through our bond into herself, she had somehow taken my twin’s name from me too.
I dredged my mind. The harder it became, the more determined I was to persist. Looking intently into my sister’s resting face I shrugged off the mounting pleasure at seeing her so spellbound to focus on our birth right. Nothing was more important to me than… than… my twin. I was Winter, so my sister was…
“Summer!” I shouted into my twin’s face, exalting in remembrance. No reaction.
“How did you do that? I could not speak her name. I was not the focus of your power, but I was caught by it all the same,” I demanded, breathless from the effort.
“Intriguing. As you know, we three share a bond. It is more than a promise, we are connected by the fabric of magic itself. Your bond with Summer is older than the one the three of us share and just as real. Your sister is a ready subject for my powers, so as I drew her name, she offered it freely. I would conjecture, since the two of you are as close to being one person as it is possible to be, she unintentionally drew it from you too as she gave it up. I shall take that into account in future but colour me impressed. Few could retrieve that which I have taken. You show great potential, Winter. You both do,” Layla explained then, without invitation, pulled me closer and kissed me fully.
She caught me off-kilter, wrapped in her arms, processing her praise, vexed over the theft of Summer’s name, but wanting to respond to this marvellous, magical woman I loved so dearly. So, at first, my passion was hindered by distraction.
Without Summer, there was no Winter. That was how it had always been. Surely such a mishap was careless of Layla. Summer’s vacant eyes told a tale of how deeply she had given herself over to our lover’s power. Was she oblivious to us? I knew not, but I could tell my twin wanted this with all the force of her soul, and I wanted it for her. Our beloved was the key to unlocking all our desires and, right then, the heat of her relentless kisses melted my ire. Surprisingly, sharing such passion within arm’s reach of my beguiled sister lent it a wicked, transgressive flavour that I had to concede was intoxicating.
The frisson of having our beloved all to myself seduced me, compelling me to surrender to the moment. Though jealousy in sharing our lover was never an issue, my twin’s immobility brought selfish desires to the surface. My lips parted to welcome Layla’s probing tongue, entering me, toying with my own like mating serpents. I wanted her to take me then and there, drag me to the ground and fuck me in front of my sister. Perverse notions of exploiting Summer’s incapacity swam into my mind, wanting her to watch, while she could do nothing as our vampire bit me all over my body. As I began to lose myself in the throes of our kiss, my role as my sister’s guardian slipped from my grasp and even my fantasies drifted into unimportance in the urgency of the instant.
All too soon, our lips parted, but my beloved had left behind a kernel of cruelty that I would nurture in my private darkness. I had enjoyed our kiss all the more because I was flaunting it in front of my sister, taking advantage of her vulnerability. I was ashamed, but Layla knew exactly what we were both getting off on, so I had no choice but to accept this new depravity as an unattractive but undeniable part of myself. One I wanted to explore.
“Thank you, Layla. That was… delicious,” I said, my disquiet over Summer’s name loss now a forgotten secret. “It felt wicked with my sister like so. Was she watching us kiss?”
“Not really. She sees, but it does not register. Feels, but cannot think,” Layla said with obvious satisfaction. She stroked Summer’s cheek, though the only reaction it caused was to raise the soft hairs on her neck just above her collar. “Do you like that? Her being helpless, while you are… yourself, for now.”
“Yes, Layla. I do,” I confessed, noting her addenda with relish. Talking openly was easy with our beloved. She revelled in our desires as much as we revelled in offering them to her.
“And kissing in front of her had something extra, yes?” Layla asked, already knowing the truth of it.
“Yes. It did,” I replied. My confessions seemed nourishing for our beloved.
“What you felt is the reward of power. It is an aphrodisiac,” she stated and brazenly cupped my sister’s breast in her free hand, running her thumb over the nipple. Summer’s lips parted in sharp inhalation, dangerously attractive. Layla looked to me, assessing. Was she seeking my approval or gauging my reaction? Oh. Did she want me to join her in ravishing my sister? I could not do that. Could I? Never had I entertained such an awful notion, but in the moment, with the approval of our beloved, her arm around me, would it be so wrong?
“Now you have had your first taste of power, you will find it is a part of you that you will never relinquish. Consider it my gift. For now, we are here to play with my slave, but sometime soon, with her captivated like this, we should fuck.”
My head knew it would be patently unfair to indulge in congress when Summer could not, an abuse of the trust she had placed in me, but my heart wanted it all the same and there was no point lying to Layla. Enthralled in subtler fashion than my twin, I suspected I was now incapable of denying our beloved anything.
“Yes, Layla. I would like that very much,” I admitted, though I was not ready for that whether I wanted it or not. I sensed Layla did not want it either, yet. Despite my reticence, if she had demanded sex, I would have given myself without hesitation, so I confessed it, “I always want your fingers inside me. Or your fangs in my neck. Whenever you want.”
“Good. I do love you so and have gone to great lengths to make you want me. Know, this my beautiful, beloved half-blood: I always want to be inside you. I always want your tongue inside me. And I always want your blood. Is it acceptable to admit that?” Layla confessed, showing a rare moment of vulnerability, which I treasured.
“Yes, beloved. Always. My heart is yours and so is my blood,” I admitted and kissed her again, tenderly, just the once. I knew she loved me but, in that moment, it did not matter if she did not. I would always love her. I would always trust her. I would always be hers.
Realising we were neglecting Summer, my mind turned to a very different but nonetheless intoxicating prospect. “If you truly think Summer and I might have magical potential I can promise we would be faithful and diligent apprentices to whatever you would deign to share.”
“It would be my honour to shape the destinies of two such lovely creatures,” Layla said, placing one hand over my chest. More slow lightning crawled from her touch under my skin, to play across my heart. I wanted her to paw my breast, harder than she had Summer’s, and kiss me again but said nothing as she took her sparkling touch away. “We have many years together ahead of us. I am sure we shall form a formidable coven one day.”
We shared a conspiratorial smile. The three of us? Witches? The thought of such power, but moreover being like Layla, was alluring. Returning my attention to Summer, I waved my hand in front of her open eyes, but they did not so much as twitch.
“Summer? Do you hear that? We shall be witches,” I shared with pride.
“She is far below. But she could not respond to that name at present, even if she was not,” Layla explained.
“What does it mean to be ‘far below’?” I asked, wanting to know everything.
“It is like being asleep, though she is very much awake, all thoughts suspended. Her eyes and ears perceive keenly but her mind does nothing with what her senses present unless I will it. In this state she is highly malleable and receptive to any command I care to issue. She finds her condition very much to her liking. Observe,” Layla gestured to my sister’s nipples standing proud beneath her dress. They had been rock hard since she went ‘below’. I could always tell when Summer was turned on.
Layla casually gave my sister’s nipple a pinch and, like my paralysed twin, I did nothing to stop her. Instead, I enjoyed seeing her toyed with, as if molested for my amusement, so much so that I writhed into our lover’s side. It was perplexing to love my sister as completely as I did yet gain such deplorable pleasure from her abuse. It was only a little sin. I could still protect her if Layla went too far, I told myself.
“She enjoys this. Do not doubt it. In fact, I can show you. Would you like to know how she fares? To know if she is happy. I am sure you are concerned for her,” Layla offered, untangling herself from my arms.
“I would love that, thank you,” I eagerly accepted, expecting the chance to talk to Summer.
“Ready yourself. If this is too much you need only step back from my touch,” Layla explained, leaving me curious. Was she about to put me “far below” too? That seemed unlikely, but I was eager to find out. She placed two fingers on the dark moon painted in the middle of Summer’s forehead, uttered something unintelligible, and then touched two fingers from her other hand upon my brow.
An icy chill spread across my mark accompanied by a cacophony of distant whispers for a split instant. To my astonishment Layla’s touch then delivered a shock from my mark down to my cunt. No distant, slow lightning, this was a thunderbolt, that forced a staggering spasm through me.
An overwhelming sensory deluge flooded my mind. For a single glorious instant, we were one. We could feel Summer’s collar about our neck, all our thoughts suppressed, instead we drowned in a cauldron of churning euphoria, swirling about an incredible erotic delight at our helplessness. Our quim desperately craved fingers for the release of rapture but our inability to do so only served to spiral our desire higher and higher in a never-ending ascent. We were so close to exactly where we wanted to be.
The next instant, one of us staggered back breaking the connection, our singular mind wrenched apart into separate bodies. In my confusion, I grabbed my quim through my skirt, hand trembling as I worked my own sex to fulfil Summer’s helpless yearning. When I realised it was her need, not my own, for the first time I entertained the idea of hoisting up her skirt and plunging my fingers into my sister. It repulsed me, but the urge to quench the enormity of her need was formidable.
Trying to calm myself, I busied my hands with stroking my throat feeling only the memory of a silver collar that had seemed so physical, so real. I boggled at Layla, my cravings for her to invade me, shape me, control me, redoubled. It was so powerful I was too ashamed to voice it. I had to look away to gather myself, which helped the urges recede.
In hindsight, it was a testament to the puissance of our beloved’s abilities that all memory of her forcing me into a trance only two nights ago, had been comprehensively suppressed. Seeing my sister under the exact same power, feeling its full force for an instant, stirred not even a glimmer of recollection within me.
“I am sorry,” I apologised, breathing hard, chaotic elation filling my heart and head. “That was more intense than I expected. It is our dream to be of one mind but mine and hers are clearly not in harmony with her under your power.”
“Deprived of thought, her emotions run unchecked. It can be intense, but you are strong and will endure. You being twins presents many possibilities for my magic,” Layla said, the fire of exploration sparkling within her eyes. “But there will be time for that in future. Now, you can vouchsafe she is enjoying what I am doing to her. Are you satisfied?”
“I am. May we try linking us again, later?” Summer’s intense pleasure at her helplessness echoed like an orgasmic scream inside my mind. Though our brief connection was an assault on my senses, the possibility of connecting us was wondrous. I wanted to get better at it.
“Of course. In the meantime, your twin is having all the fun. What should we do with her? Shall we test the depth of my control?” Layla asked with undisguised relish.
“Yes, please,” the idea of partnering with Layla to use Summer was so potent I had to resist openly grabbing my quim, again. My diminishing resolve against my base impulses was a grave worry. Since she deflowered us, I had become such a slut it seemed I now had to exert myself not to fiddle with my sex in front of her.
Last night, Layla’s unwavering gaze when I brought myself to rapture as she fed from Summer was all the tacit approval I could wish for. We both understood she had displayed her predation for my pleasure and did the same with me for Summer. The more she invited us into this world of dominance, submission and blood the more we gave ourselves over to it. How had I become this wanton creature? Was it the influx of Dahlk’s darkness? Was it the influence of Layla? Or was it my true nature revealed?
“What can we make her do?” I asked, embracing my depravity.
“Anything we want. I always find it best to start simply,” Layla explained. “Slave, raise your hand.”
Calling my twin her ‘slave’ struck me as darkly alluring. Summer duly raised her hand. Her face remained expressionless, though I realised she blinked occasionally. The prospect of being able to do anything with her stirred definite but questionable emotions within me. In all my years fantasising about being a vampire’s thrall it seemed I had not given much thought to what to do with one. It was as if I were considering the possibilities for the first time.
“May I speak with her? Is that possible with her far below?” I wondered.
“It is and you may. Slave, put your hand down and hear Winter’s voice. Respond truthfully to her questions,” Layla commanded. “Go ahead, Winter, but remember her name has no meaning for her.”
“Thank you, beloved,” I said, then turned to Summer. “Um, slave? Can you hear me?” To see her spellbound by the grace of our lover, robbed of all volition, mind in stasis; it was a wonder. I both coveted and wanted to understand it.
“Yes,” Summer said. Her dreaming voice subdued, distant.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
“Of course. You are Winter, my twin. I love you with all my heart,” Summer responded. Though her face remained as empty as ever, that last made my eyes brim with happy tears. Our love was the purest thing I knew.
“Thank you. Summer, do you know what is happening?” I asked but no reply came. I quickly realised my mistake and, before Layla could remind me, I rephrased. “Slave, do you know what is happening.”
“Nothing is happening,” she said with distant wistfulness.
“Slave, can you tell me what you are feeling?” I asked, wanting to check if that stolen moment we had shared was real.
“Open. Elated. Mindless. On rapture’s edge. Waiting,” she said calmly, lacking any hint of the tumultuous emotion I had felt when Layla linked us, yet each word slid into place to make sense of the chaos that had overwhelmed me.
Open. Yes, I too felt acutely receptive, hungry for new experiences. Elated. A manic joy permeated my being. Mindless. That instant all thought was ripped from me was a glimpse into why Summer relished such oblivion. I did not truly understand it, but the brief taste was divine. Rapture’s edge. A phrase we had developed during our experimentations in self-love years ago. We tried to see how long we could walk it before falling into rapture itself. Another secret exposed before Layla.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked, expecting, hoping, she would say rapture.
“To obey,” she said. Of course. She was enslaved, what else was she for? The permutations of her answer coiled around my arousal, squeezing, intensifying.
“If you are mindless, how are you speaking?” I wondered huskily, my fascination taking full possession of me.
“I obey,” she said plainly. That answer did not seem to be an adequate explanation but perhaps it was enough from her beguiled point of view. I looked to Layla quizzically.
“My spell allows her to think only in the fulfilment of commands and no more,” she explained through her wolfish grin. “She will not remember this conversation. You may tell her about it later if you wish… or keep it as a secret between the two of us.”
What was Layla doing? Yes, secrets forged deeper bonds between their keepers, but I never hid anything from Summer. Or did I? Our lust for vampires, for having our minds controlled, was a shared longing we had concealed from each other for years.
Though convinced Summer was having the time of her life, I was supposed to be protecting her best interests. She had consented to the removal of her consent. Did that make anything acceptable? My inclination to toy with her, to exploit her vulnerability was growing more insistent. Was Layla influencing me too or just showing me possibilities and my own darker nature was doing the rest? She knew I was getting off on this situation and welcomed me as her accomplice. My faith in her was strong enough to trust my twin’s mind to her, and while I wanted to be dominated too, the temptation of power was… well… overpowering.
Something in Layla’s smile revealed a dark part of her I had seen before but not truly recognised. Her demeanour had subtly shifted since she had put Summer under her power. The self-confidence was shaded with arrogance, her delight at wielding my sister’s leash was brazen, bordering on cruel, yet if anything this made her even more attractive. It made my desire to be like her more insistent.
“Make her do something else,” I demanded. Was I crossing some sort of line? We were indulging Summer, so why could I not also indulge my nascent impulse to use the power we had over her?
Layla pointed and issued a simple directive, “Slave, walk to that tree.”
“I obey,” Summer intoned. Without hesitation she strode to the specified tree, stopping only when her body was pressed against it.
“Now make her come here,” I ordered, and our beloved obliged. I think my tone amused her. I sounded like her.
“Turn around and walk to Winter, slave,” she commanded.
“I obey,” Summer repeated.
She spun around, looked right at me, and marched over. I flinched as she stepped into my personal space, stopping inches away. Only then did I realise she was looking not at me but through me. I had registered in her mind only long enough to become a waypoint and was then forgotten. Locked in her own personal paradise, her arousal filled the air with the hint of her freely flowing juices, and I found her more enthralling with each passing moment. A disgraceful urge struck me that I could reach out and grab her breast if I wanted and she could do nothing to resist. Ashamed to suffer such an intrusive thought, the transgression of the image was nonetheless undeniably tantalising.
“Spread your legs apart. Place your hands behind your head,” Layla ordered. Summer obeyed swiftly, displaying her body right in front of me, limbs taut, face a faraway echo of the sister I loved, and it was that which struck me most. Of the two of us, she was the one more at ease expressing herself. This empty doll was both her but not her. The contrast was compelling.
“Tell Winter what you are,” Layla commanded.
Summer’s eyes focused on mine, and I thought for a moment her mind had returned, but there was no spark there. She spoke in flat, lifeless tones, “I am Layla’s slave. I live only to obey.”
“Good, slave. Now tell her what that means,” Layla made a strange gesture towards Summer and that blank mask lifted, her brow furrowed, mouth agape in a muted expression of naked need I knew so well. I had seen it a hundred times and more. Rapture’s edge.
“I adore this. I love being controlled,” she gasped. “I want this always. I need this. This is me.”
Layla shuddered, undisguised glee ruled her beautiful face, then she announced, “That is enough.” With a simple flick of her fingers, she wiped all expression from Summer’s features, all light from her eyes, all will from her mind.
The sight of Summer’s total compliance edged me closer to shameful bliss. I had to gulp down air to resist. Though my sister was the puppet, I was discovering such rich pleasures and wanted more. Did I want to be her or do this to her? I was becoming too much like Layla, and I did not know how to stop. Wicked, dominant ideas formulated in my imagination; ways to use my sister for my own gratification. An unbidden image of her unseeing eyes as she lapped at my cunt shocked me from my descent into depravity. What appalled me most was that the temptation did not disgust me.
“No more. Please let her go, Layla. You have proven your power, beyond question. Summer has had her desire fulfilled. Enough,” I said, mustering as much determination as I could manage.
If Layla did not stop this now, I would do something… regrettable. Summer’s safety no longer mattered as much as getting what I wanted. The reality of our fantasies was far, far more enthralling than I had suspected. It was a poison consuming me, corrupting me. If we went on, I would let Layla do anything she wanted with Summer, worse, in all likelihood I would be encouraging it, partaking in it, revelling in it. I had to draw a line.
“Oh, but we were just beginning to enjoy ourselves,” Layla said with a smirk. The best retort I could offer was a determined shake of the head, trying to mask my weakness. Silence hung between us for a moment. “Very well, but first, I have been longing for a kiss. Slave, attend.”
“I obey,” Summer responded, soullessly.
I had to look away. Those words stabbed at my quim, urging me to revoke my plea, to capitulate to my darker desires, to risk drowning in my depravity. With fists clenched, I steeled myself against those unworthy impulses.
I told myself this had been a test. I accepted Layla had proved she could fulfil our dearest fantasies. I convinced myself that if we stopped now, I could be under that same power all the sooner, free of all responsibility. But I could not deny the truth. The Summer-slave experiment had to stop now before I would be unable to halt it.
Layla took time to emphasise the words I desperately wanted her to say to me, “Good slave.”
A prisoner to my voyeurism, I turned my gaze towards them, knowing Layla’s perfect eyes awaited me, probing my soul, unearthing my frailties. She kissed Summer with infinitely more passion than my sister was presently capable of manifesting, arms limp by her sides.
I was transfixed as Layla pawed Summer’s breast, grabbed her plait, yanked her head and licked her collar. None of it disturbed her slave’s docility as much as it shook my resolve.
Why was helplessness so beautiful, vulnerability so captivating? Why had we kept this fantasy from each other before yesterday? How could either of us have withheld a secret of such magnitude for all these years? It defied sense. We shared everything yet had never divulged desires that were so vital a component of who we were, never even discussed it. The contradictions scraped painfully across my brain, but the show Layla put on was an unavoidable distraction from all questions.
“You love being my creature, do you not, slave?” Layla purred at Summer, never taking her eyes off me, analysing my every fidget and fret.
“Yes. I love it,” my slave-sister replied, passionlessly, lifelessly, and yet it was so incredibly emotional. It was possible Summer only said those words because Layla made her, but our momentary mind-link had left me in no doubt she craved her enslavement. If so, I was deliberately ending the actualisation of her dreams.
“You want me to put my fingers inside you, yes?” Layla stated with a hint of scorn, running her hand over Summer’s stomach. Nominally she was talking to her slave, but her unwavering stare made it was clear she was addressing both of us. She knew I burned to see my twin used as much as Summer ached for release. As much as I wanted her fingers buried in my quim.
“Yes,” Summer breathed, a hint of need softening her monotone.
My determination wavered. Our beloved saw my conflict. But then she saved me.
“Well, take this up with your sister,” Layla scoffed and snapped her fingers in front of my sister’s unseeing eyes, turned on her heel and stormed off.
Summer reeled as if coming up for breath from below water. Flailing for balance, she blinked life back into her eyes, the spell broken. Relief flooded through me as the duty that had been slowly crushing me into some wicked shape was lifted. An inevitable selfish anticipation followed that my turn under Layla’s command was now much closer.
No sooner had Summer drawn breath than my sister roared out the orgasm she had been teetering on the brink of since going ‘below’. It ripped through her, smashing her onto her knees, driving her on to all fours, then wildly bucking her hips like an animal. For a moment I was transfixed to see her so lost in lust, that night above the waterfall cascaded through my memories. Forcing myself to move, I knelt to comfort her as she curled into a ball to ride out the post-rapture spasms.
“Can you hear me, Sum?” I called as I put my arm around her. She looked up at me in confusion and ecstasy, flailing for my hand which she caught and squeezed as another aftershock hit.
“Winter? Winter! What happened? Why did she let go?” Summer croaked, her throat hoarse from bellowing.
“I had to stop. It was not safe,” I answered, worried I had made the wrong decision.
Summer shook her head, breathing hard, not really absorbing my words, before galloping into a tirade, “It was heaven, Win. Paradise. No thought, only obedience. No pressure, just joy. It was freedom, Win. Slavery is freedom. I never understood, never imagined. There is nothing like it, nothing. I was nothing. Nothing but her will. Only her love mattered. Obedience is love. You must be enslaved, Win, you must. You will love it. You will be so loved. You will love more deeply than ever.” She hauled herself upright, recovering as she spoke.
Layla remained with her back to us at the edge of the clearing.
In a hush, I said, “I am so glad it was a good as it looked. But I am sorry I had to pull you out. Layla let me feel a fraction of what you were feeling, just a taste. It did something to me. It was more than I could cope with. Can you forgive me?”
“What for? Pulling me out? Worry not. I trust you. You did what you thought was right. I will be enslaved again, I have no doubt, so no harm done, sis. You were taking care for me. But what do you mean ‘did something to you’? Were you enslaved too? I hope I did not miss that,” Summer fizzed, full of manic energy in stark contrast to her enslaved docility.
“No. Layla used her magic to link our minds and it messed with my head. I started having urges to use you, toy with you, join with Layla in controlling you. Not exactly protecting you properly. Sorry,” I confessed quietly, awkwardly. Perhaps the mind link had disoriented me, but perhaps Layla had simply given me room to explore my darker urges. I could not tell.
“Protecting me from what? Having my fondest dreams indulged? I do not recall much of what just happened but trust me, it felt unbelievable. Look, if it happens again, if you get worried about how you think I may feel, remember this: I am a slave. I live only to obey. Those are not just words; they are telling you everything you need to know about what I just became. I cannot stress enough how good it feels to be under her power. Being used by Layla, or even by you, especially when I am helpless, just makes it even better, hotter. So, believe me, you did nothing wrong, Win. You will understand when you submit, and you must. Open your mind to her and let it happen. It is everything we have ever dreamed. It is… perfection,” Summer professed, barely pausing for breath.
I had not seen her this ebullient in years. Though concerned I was not explaining my worries clearly enough she seemed to take it all in her stride. My brush with dominance was exciting but confusing and frightening, leaving me eager to have my turn under the safety of Layla’s yoke, so I took Summer at her word. We hugged each other tightly, which made everything better.
“If you say so, Sum. I want it, but… it is scary. You seem a little manic. Are you capable of keeping an eye on me? When you see me enthralled, it may tempt you… make you lose yourself. I do not know if I would enjoy being used in the way I was tempted to use you. Promise you will pull me out if that starts happening to you?” I whispered. Summer nodded, seeming more herself.
“You will surprise yourself how much you are going to enjoy this, sis, but I will keep you safe. Oh, and that was the best orgasm I have ever had, better than the ones by the waterfall. I would not want you to miss out,” she grinned, the after-effects still very much clouding her thoughts.
Holding hands, we approached Layla. Arms folded, back to us, she stared into the darkness. I feared I had angered her.
“Beloved,” we called. She turned at once and greeted us with a smile of such warmth that it ameliorated my concerns.
“Thank you, mistress,” Summer said calmly. “You have given me a gift I have no idea how to repay. You found a missing part of me I had presumed was impossible to fulfil. It can only be Dahlk’s will that has brought us together. How else can providence deliver two sisters, who wanted all their lives to have their wills beguiled by a vampire, into the arms of the kindest, most loving mistress in the world? It can only be by divine decree. I am a believer. All praise to the Nightbringer. In darkness, I see her truth. Dahlk’s will shall be done. As sure as night will fall.” She tenderly touched her mark and then her chest.
“Dahlk’s will shall be done,” Layla chanted, touching her mark and then chest.
Pulled by the unity of our bond I followed, repeating their motions, “Dahlk’s will shall be done.” I was in the goddess’s hands now, I told myself.
Whatever Summer had experienced under Layla’s power had instilled a degree of devotion I had not seen in her before. It was both a little frightening but somehow fetching. Where Summer led, I must surely follow. Her declaration of faith diminished my doubts and anxieties, though they nagged about my heels still.
“Have I offended you, beloved?” I asked Layla, trying to be direct. “I beg forgiveness if you wished to hold Summer under your power for longer and I curtailed your pleasure. I offer myself in her stead.” Summer squeezed my hand, but Layla beamed her approval with the most radiant of smiles.
“Oh, my beloved Winter. You think too much. You have done no wrong,” Layla assured, calming me. “Forgive the flourish with which I returned my slave’s mind. Exerting my influence places me into a persona that can be an effort to relinquish, but you must believe I bear no resentment. You were looking after you sister, yes? Now she will look on while you submit.”
When Layla said I had done nothing wrong, relief poured through me like floodwater through a broken dam, but I lost track after she called Summer her slave. Did she still think of my sister that way even after she relinquished control? Would she always think of me as her slave once she had enslaved me? My only certainty was I wanted to know what it meant to belong to her. So, like some delicate night insect drawn to a candle flame, I let my need consume me.
“Yes, Layla. Please take me. I beg you.”