Torn Between Twins – ebook
Torn Between Twins by Lance Edwards
New from Best-selling Femdom Author Lance Edwards.
Josh has a problem ” more than one. His arranged marriage to Julia looms. A frigid tyrant who despises him, she’s sworn to make his life a nightmare. Worse, he’s in love with her enemy twin Jennifer, an inveterate renegade as obsessed by jealousy as her lust for adventure. Too feckless to escape his marital fate, Josh makes the mistake of begging deadly Jen to save their relationship. Deprivation and domination will doubtless rule any union with Julia. So Jen determines to turn such burdens to virtues. Maneuvering the newlyweds into a wife-led relationship is key to her lethal scheme for ending the tormenting of her repressed identical.
A party to sororicide or not, more than just Josh’s autonomy is lost in the process. Through struggles moral to mortal, his jaded-playboy identity, even his very masculinity may be sacrificed as collateral damage.
Encounters encompass bondage, sodomy, torture, humiliation, forced feminization, climax denial, choking and cuckoldry.
Cover Art © Volodymyr Tverdokhlib – Shutterstock.com
Crisp sheets were considerately turned back, five freshly plumped-up feather pillows piled high against the elegantly configured headboard. Jay reclined supine with his head and shoulders elevated in wonderful luxury. He felt quite the pampered plutocrat. Incredibly sexy backside turned to him, Jennifer took another shot of vodka. She dug into a big handbag. Casually she pulled out what Jay took a second to identify as a teardrop-shaped black spanking paddle. She finished fiddling with her phone and set everything handy on the cart with the ice buckets and drinks. Pushing this closer to the bed, Jen snatched up his current favorite tie on the way by.
“This won’t exactly be the traditional lap dance, my damned bastard bachelor. No chair, and I’m going to tie you up first. If you don’t want to be gagged, thrown over the saddle of my Suzuki, kidnapped and held hostage as well, I’d keep the resistance to a minimum.”
“Resist you? Who could be so foolish as to imagine managing that?”
“Julia may be deluded enough. Or our unconscionably presumptuous parents, trying to dictate all our lives for us. But we’ll just see about all of that. The steeper the challenge, the sweeter the triumph. Put out your goddamn hands!”
More eagerly than meekly, Jay proffered his wrists.
Already twitching with excitement, he caught his breath as Jen leaped nimbly up, boots and all, onto the big hotel bed with him. Clambering astride his belly with her hem giving ground already, she used one end of his necktie to bind his wrists – not too tightly to hurt, but certainly inescapably. The other end she wound about the knob crowning the apex of the bed’s arched headboard, securing his arms stretched comfortably enough above him.
Just the way Jen’s barely contained breast-treasure jiggled in his face while carrying out this part of the game was quite the show on its own. That may have accounted for the unaccustomed acute frisson. But then his childhood protector picked up his shed belt as well. Wordlessly she used this to cinch his ankles together, rendering Jay essentially helpless. And suddenly he understood the obscure appeal bondage could have in an erotic context. Never having experimented with it before, the belatedness of the revelation pained him as much as he found the futility of his struggling inexplicably exhilarating.
Why the fuck hadn’t they tried this ages ago? All the tension of his incapacitation, the pent-up anxiety of being alone and powerless before such a volatile female, seemed to concentrate in his genitals as the purest sexual energy conceivable. Jay’s balls actually crawled. His cock throbbed so hard the head bobbed like a metronome, making the gold ring in his glans (the only piercing Jen had successfully pestered him into getting) trace gleaming little arcs in the air. Observing her methodically lighting the dozens of slender tapers surrounding the bed, Jay had to put voice to the question. “Damn, ma’am, you’ve got my motor revving in the red already! Why haven’t we ever played this way before?”
“Because it wasn’t yet time,” came the indulgent reply. “And because this is not play. This is about salvaging what we can from the rest of your miserable existence.”
Smiling with beguiling commiseration, Jennifer went on to romantically dim the lamps.
“There is an art and a science both to easing a prospective slave into the enduring ways of bondage and discipline, domination and submission,” she lectured. “This beginning of your own training may seem a bit last-minute. But it isn’t. Trust me when I say that everything is going to go exactly as I have planned for us.”
Naturally Jay opened his mouth to ask what the hell she meant by that. Stern new Mistress Jennifer forestalled him, but relatively gently.
“Darling, the first rule of femdom (the philosophy and lifestyle of female domination) is that the ruling mistress makes all of the rules. The second rule is that the designated slave asks no questions, makes no complaints.
“He behaves and obeys, submitting absolutely for his own sake. There is no silly safe word.
“Pleasures will be withheld, and punishment forthcoming regardless of even flawless obedience. Why make either trial more extreme than it needs to be? Unless of course you’ve come to crave the pain, crave the humiliation and domination, the frenzied desperation that comes from chronic coital denial…
“So be silent now, my only temporarily clandestine lifelong personal property, while you look forward to that inevitable day. Or if it’s somehow arrived spontaneously, then save your breath for making lewd and insulting catcalls while I dance for your unworthy enjoyment. I shall repay you most appropriately afterward.”
Lifelong personal property? Pleasures withheld? Appropriate repayment?
Suddenly the ornate walls were closing in, the sheltering canopy crowding down. The candle flames flickered like harbingers of perdition. So why did Jay’s breath catch in his chest again? Why the rash of gooseflesh, and why did his gold-topped cock leap into the most fervent yet salute to the giver of that flesh-penetrating ring of power?
Why did everything dearest friend Jen said about becoming her permanent slave crank up the current on the erotic charge so generously being generated in him?
Jay could answer these queries no more than he could explain how electricity (of any sort) worked in the first place. Physics and chemistry, he guessed. Science…and maybe art, as the lady in charge had said and now demonstrated. Creative aesthetics in motion, devilish Mistress Jennifer was already grinning-minx slinking up to before the foot of that four-poster. There she smoothly moved into the first of her supremely sensual, amazingly graceful gyrations.
Enthralled as he already was, Jay found himself more captive to this latter-day mating display than any sturdy tethers of silk or leather. However sensationally she might beat him for it later, catcalling this otherworldly odalisque seemed akin to blasphemy. Jay could only goggle at her dancing, rapt, his nine-inch homage aching unflaggingly on.