Bdsm Sex Stories Page 7

  "She won't see anything, Isa. And who says we have to come back?"

  Isa's eyes grew large at the idea of honestly running away. Then they hardened. I didn't particularly understand what that meant, but I did now. For the moment, I was just a foolish boy who wanted to impress the girl he liked: in this case, my twin sister. Isa had deeper thoughts, and looking back, I think that she believed me to be mocking her. She'd always been very sensitive to that sort of thing, at least from me.

  "Hmm. I'll tell you what. You go over, and if you can get to the main road and back without being discovered, then I'll go with you the next time. We can go to that stupid diner you keep talking about and everything."

  "You mean it?" Even to my own ears, I sounded naively hopeful and excited. Isa smiled like a cat who'd just caught a mouse by its tail.

  "I never lie to you," she said, "do I?"

  "No, but you can be pretty creative with the truth, or in withholding it," I answered. I wasn't quite as dumb as I sounded.

  "Well, in this case, I mean exactly that. If you make it back without being caught, I'll go with you. Otherwise, I'm not really interested in taking the risk."

  I nodded, and without another thought, I jumped up. I'd climbed trees on our estate before, and this wasn't much different. It was easier to be honest. I found handholds and pulled myself up. I was in decent shape. Isa was encouraged to exercise a little, but I was pushed hard. Father wanted me to be in prime shape. I kept up that habit even after I'd left the family home and was a mild-mannered academic.

  "Ow!"

  "Are you all right?" Isa asked, almost letting human concern break through her controlled veneer.

  "Yeah. There's still some wire up here, and I guess there's broken glass embedded in concrete up here as well. I cut myself, but its pretty minor."

  "Well, be careful. You don't want to mess up your clothes and get mom asking questions."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "I'll be back soon, you'll see," I said, and then dropped over the other side with what I hoped was daring aplomb.

  I looked back briefly. The climb back up would be harder, but there was a tree close by that I could use to get to the top if I couldn't find handholds on the outside of the wall proper. I wasn't worried about that. I had a task to perform, after all.

  Getting out to the road was smooth. I ducked behind some bushes when I saw some guards strolling down the main driveway up to our estate, but other than that, it was a quick walk, maybe fifteen minutes. I wasn't unaware of the various electronic sensors and cameras. While my efforts were probably somewhat amateurish, I think I managed to avoid most of them. It didn't matter. Isa had no intention of letting me be caught by machines. That wouldn't be any fun at all.

  I'd made it to the street and took a deep breath of the spring air. It felt free out there. It was just a country road, like a million more in America. Here I was just a kid, not someone with wealth I didn't deserve and expectations that I didn't want. I couldn't get Isa to understand this feeling, no matter how hard I tried. She was, I suppose, looking forward to being in control.

  I was so enjoying the blue sky and bird song that I never noticed the car creeping up until it was too late. I heard the doors opening and turned around. My first thought was I was about to be kidnapped, but then I saw Rachel behind the driver's wheel and relaxed. I shouldn't have.

  Two men, people that I'd known most of my life, who were friendly with me, got out. They wore black suits and stern looks. I'd been caught, but I still didn't understand what was going on. Not until one grabbed me and slammed me on the hood of the car hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs did I fully realize what was happening.

  The men probably honestly liked me and were decent people, but I wasn't their employer. My father was, and clearly, he wanted to make an example of me. I knew then that Isa had told him, the fucking brat. Rachel wouldn't meet my eyes as the larger of the two men cuffed my hands behind my back. They used double-locking ones, just like the actual cops. With practiced efficiency, they hauled me into the back seat, seating on either side so that I couldn't make trouble.

  "Take us back," one said. Rachel obeyed, driving us smoothly back. I kept my face firm and blank. It's not that I wasn't afraid or worried what was going to happen, I just knew that it would be worse if Father saw me allowing myself to appear weak. I felt weak, in any case.

  To my surprise, once we got back, I wasn't led inside, but around to the back. One of the picnic tables had been set up. Father stood there. In the warmth of the sun, he'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, exposing well-muscled forearms. He was smiling, his chiseled features and steel-gray hair making him look more like a hardened soldier than a man born into wealth. Then again, he did like to do his own dirty work.

  Mother was there, pristinely dressed as always. She looked at me with such intensity, then stalked off back towards the house. I knew that she was mad at me for my foolishness, but I didn't understand that she couldn't watch what was going to happen. That's when I should have genuinely been worried.

  Isa was there, too. She had her hands folded over her chest and a little smirk on her face. I hated her then, more than I ever had before. I couldn't understand her betrayal. Granted, she'd informed on me previously, but that was when we were younger. What had motivated her to do such a thing?

  "You're a little old for excursions of this nature, Reuben," Father said, gesturing to the picnic table. One of the thugs slammed me face down on it, harder than he had on the old of the car. My head rebounded off of the hardwood, and I tasted blood. I was bent over now and felt humiliated and terrified. One of the guards held my head while the other stood behind me.

  "Stay still," the guard behind me said. I heard the metallic snap of a flick blade opening, then there was a tearing noise as my shirt was cut away. I felt the warm spring air on my back. The blade was put away, and now both of the guards held me down by my arms. I turned my head in a vain attempt to see what was going on. I couldn't, but I could see that I still had an audience of two. Rachel and Isa. The former's eyes were hard, but she was pale. I knew then that she honestly cared about what happened to me. Rachel stood behind Isa, her hands on my sister's shoulders. Isa's face was a surprise to me. Her eyes were huge, and if Rachel was pale, then she was ghostly. No longer was she standing with a confident pose, but both of her hands were closed into tight fists at her side. She had anticipated a different result, maybe a dressing down of some kind. Had someone put her up to this? I saw her open her mouth to say something but shook my head as subtly as possible. Her intervention on my behalf would just make this worse for both of us. I didn't know how, but Father had always been inventive.

  "Perhaps I've been too lenient. I've never used the lash on you, Reuben. I find that while it doesn't ensure compliance, it does embed the lesson in both the flesh and the memory."

  I couldn't see it at the time, but I learned later that the "lash" was a horsewhip, well over a century old. There hadn't been horses kept here for decades, but the patriarchs of the family had always found a use for it.

  The first blow felt like a dull sting, then like sandpaper as he drew the old, rough material over my flesh. The second made me tear up. The third made me cry out. I expected my father to be angry at me for that, but I suppose he expected it. I lost count. I felt my knees go weak, and a warm wetness slowly spread over my back and the sides of my torso. I was shouting with each stroke now. I had no conscious control over my body. The guards were no longer pinning me but instead holding me in place so I wouldn't slide off the table unto the floor.

  I know that I didn't lose consciousness for a while after that, but my last perfectly clear memory was that of Isa shaking her head and silently sobbing, before collapsing suddenly. Rachel caught her and lowered her gently to the grass.

  I woke to Isa cleaning and dressing my wounds, while simultaneously crying. She nursed me back to health, changed my bandages, and apologized about a thousand times. I had already fo
rgiven her, having seen how much she suffered by watching me in pain. The first few days were the worst for both of us, as the wounds were hideous and required a lot of attention to prevent infection. Although we had an on-site medical specialist, she'd taken on this role as penance, and her gentle and competent care was appreciated. All the doctor did was ensure that the wounds were healing correctly. I knew that he was under instruction from my father to deny me pain medicine, had I asked. I didn't bother.

  Eventually, he gave me a shot to help me sleep, which on reflection was quite brave of him.

  As Isa was changing my bandages on the second day, I decided to simply ask her the obvious question.

  "Why did you do it?"

  I didn't have to explain what I meant. Isa's hands froze in mid-movement.

  "Reuben, I...I never thought that this would happen. I thought you were childish, and it annoyed me. It reminded me of something father had said a few days ago...so I went and told him."

  "What did he say?"

  Isa sighed.

  "We were just reading together, you know? In the library. He started asking me how I'd make decisions for the company. He showed me some of the things that he was dealing with. I felt close to him. He told me that he wished that you showed the same interest that I had. He said that you needed to grow up. Almost as an aside, he told me to come to him if you did anything silly or childish so that he could have a chat with you. I honestly thought that was all there would be to it."

  "You really thought that he'd just have a heart-to-heart in his office and send me to bed without dinner? Maybe ground me for a week?"

  I was upset, but even then, the anger had started to fade, ever so slightly. She should have known better. Isa was always the one being praised for her practical thinking. Maybe she did know better. Maybe all this was an act, and she had truly wanted to see me be punished.

  I doubted it. I didn't think of Isa as sadistic. It didn't matter. Our father taught us two lessons that day, although we only truly understood the first: to trust no-one, not even family. The second was far beyond us that day. We were still children, even as Isa cared for my injuries and held my hand, and we spoke of things that didn't matter. In the end, we were somehow both more distant and closer than ever before.

  * *

  Isa's attempt at being mischievous had created something that she wasn't prepared for and didn't want. She had paid for it, probably more so than I had. When the punishment was complete, it took me weeks to fully heal, but I was accepted as a full member of the household again as if nothing had happened.

  After this incident, I knew that our behavior was going to be under scrutiny. Any moderation that our mother might have had on our father's behavior would be ineffective now. We would face much more severe consequences for any misdeeds.

  Ironically, that was when Father started letting us out of the house with Rachel or a minimal guard presence. We paid with pain for our freedom, I suppose.

  I was only truly beaten three more times before I left home, although my father struck me more casually when I annoyed him. Two of the punishments were for silly rebellious fights as any teen has with their parents, and once after I had turned eighteen. Mother found a set of black lacy panties in my room. When I wouldn't answer her pointed questions about who I was sleeping with, and in fact told her that it was none of her business, she grew angrier than I had ever seen. Father wouldn't have cared, probably, but he didn't like me disrespecting mother, and besides, I wouldn't tell him either.

  I took the beating gladly. That time, no one held me down or kept me up. That time, Isa didn't have to witness it, but she waited inside to care for me when it was done. She nursed me as she had before, and as before, we grew closer.

  "I'll be more careful next time," was all she said. It was all that needed to be said.

  Looking back, I wonder what Mother and Father truly knew.

  * *

  I was shaken from these morose memories but a knock at my office door.

  "Reuben," Sarah said, peeking in, "Isa would like to speak to you. Alone."

  I barely had time to nod before Sarah left, heading in the opposite direction of my sister's office. She had been efficient and professional, but I had seen the stiffness in her step and the odd coldness of her voice. She was excluded from this meeting, and she didn't like it. Interesting.

  I strolled down to Isa's workspace. I didn't hurry. It wouldn't do to look as though I was at my sister's beck and call. I was, of course, but appearances had to be maintained for my own pride if for no other reason. How easy it was to slip back into old habits.

  I sighed as I knocked and then opened the door and entered without waiting for a response. Isa was sitting on the edge of her desk, looking out over the lawns. There was a fog that seemed to cling to everything that day, and it made the grounds look dreamlike. She looked at me and smiled. She, too, had tension in her posture. To my surprise, rather than sit behind her desk, she came and sat on the couch and patted the space near her. I sat there after a moment.

  This was really the closest that we had gotten in the entire time I'd been back. As Isa leaned forward, I caught a faint whiff of wine. That set off internal alarms. She drank very little, as a general rule, both before I left and after I had returned. You made mistakes when you were drunk. You did things that you regretted later. Things like me.

  "I...I have a favor to ask of you," Isa said.

  "Ask? I was under the impression that I was your minion."

  "Please, Reuben. I'm sorry. You've done all that I've asked and more. This is...different."

  Her voice was soft and almost pleading, and she couldn't quite meet my eyes.

  "All right," I said. I cursed myself because whatever I might say now, I had an urge to help her.

  "Do you remember the Brigantine?"

  "How could I forget that place?"

  "Well, I...I haven't been there myself."

  "I went with Father three times. Once on my own."

  "What's it like?"

  "Beautiful. Stately. Gorgeous people everywhere. Lots of masks. Debauchery of all kinds. The staff all seem happy and are quite...willing, but..."

  "But what?"

  "I wouldn't be surprised if that place disposed of multiple bodies a night. There's something sinister about it. I guess I shouldn't be surprised since our ancestors helped found it."

  "Well...then you probably know better than I do that many of our contacts and relations are with members."

  "Yes," I said, "what do you need me to do? Go to a meeting?"

  "Um," Isa said, and then looked away. Was she ashamed? "It's more complicated than that. We're members, both of us, by blood. Once father passed, there wasn't any pressure to attend, only occasional requests for money and voting on various decisions. We're still on the board, you know, with the other three families."

  "All right," I said, "so what's the problem?"

  "Part of being a member is being...complicit...with the other members. You can't blow the whistle on someone that knows about your darker escapades, can you? And I'm told there's a certain bond, especially between men, if they...if they share a woman."

  I frowned involuntarily. Although I shouldn't be surprised, I did not like that Isa was aware of what I had had been pushed into many years prior. That was something I had done very reluctantly. It didn't matter that the woman was stunning. I hadn't chosen her, and I couldn't be sure that she was there of her own free will. Not really.

  "Yes," I said, simply, "there can be."

  "Well," Isa said, "since mother died, the other board members have been getting nervous at our continued absence. Some of them have seen how we've been moving investments around from shadier businesses to legitimate ones. They fear that we're going to divest ourselves from them. More than that, they fear exposure. As one of the four founding families, we have more power and information on what goes on there than anyone else. We could, in theory, ruin a lot of people."

  "All right," I said, "so y
ou need me to go and be seen and shake hands and act all chummy? I can do that."

  "Yes, but also...more than that. I need you to...participate."

  I looked at her, shocked for a moment.

  "So you're pimping me out?"

  "No," Isa said, looking me in the eyes, "I'm not I just...I can't. I can't do it. You can."

  "Isa, I'm willing to go. I don't really want to, to be honest, but I'll do it. Why can't you though? You're an adult, you're available, well, mostly. I think Sarah would understand, given that you share her with me."

  "It's different for women. I made inquiries," Isa said, coldly, "and the expectations would be...more severe."

  "More severe?"

  "I'd have to...service...more than one man. Probably members of the other families. Maybe fuck more than one too. Things can get rough."

  "God. That shouldn't shock me, but...I guess it still does. How did you find out?"

  Isa laughed bitterly.

  "Oh, they don't hide it. I simply asked. Then they told me quite plainly what would be done to me, at a minimum. They assured me that no permanent harm would come to me, but I would be expected, if I was indeed the head of the family, to 'demonstrate obeisance' to at least three men. I objected, and then they politely informed me that our mother had no such problems."

  "Mom went there? Father allowed that?"

  "Yes, and I think it was before they were together. You know that her side of the family's always been a bit of a mystery. Well, apparently, before they were married, our mother was sent there as...as a learning experience. I found her diaries after she had passed and she wrote all about it. It made me ill, but I read all of it. I had to."

  "Jesus," I said, sitting back in the plush leather and trying not to think about our mother, who had generally been good to us as children, being roughly used by older men, "well, all right. I'm going then, it's decided. I would never let someone put you through that."

  "Thank you, Reuben. You don't know what it means. Truly. I...I can't bear to be touched by men. It makes me panic and...and...this would be torture. I'd break, and make us all look weak. I'd be weeping and useless and..."