Happy Camper

Story entry in the 2011 Winter Fetish Stories Contest

Carly checked her watch, tossed back the last of her wine, stood, brushed the sand from her ass, and headed into the trees to pee. Cary followed her. Even out here the ten o'clock rule applied.

Back home she would have prepared for bed, stripped and presented herself naked, bearing her wrist and ankle cuffs. Paul would lock them on her, then lead her into the bedroom where he would lock her collar to the bed chain.

There was no bed and no chains, but there were other preparations to be made.

They squatted behind adjacent bushes and did what needed doing. Back in the camp they unzipped the tent, kicked off their flip flops, and stepped inside.

Carly unrolled her sleeping bag, opened it. Cary laid hers on top and zipped two sides. She slid her darlex sleep sack into the, now, double bag, Carly did likewise.

Both women stripped. Neither spoke. They never did during these times, the times when they were in slave mode. They were collared slaves of twin brothers. They lived in three modes: wife mode, slave mode, and service mode. Service mode was blink and breathe mode. Carly would kneel at Paul's feet and do nothing but blink and breathe. She wouldn't speak other than to acknowledge a request from her Master. She would do nothing unless given express instructions.

Wife mode and slave mode were similar. In wife mode she was free to come and go as she pleased, though she had to keep Paul apprised of her comings and goings. And, of course, he always had veto power. Slave mode was similar in that she enjoyed almost total freedom on the condition that she asked permission - even to use the toilet.

While in bondage they were automatically in slave mode, and since they slept constrained or restrained in some way every night ...

Except for sharing the condition of being collared, in all other respects they were more than sisters-in-law, they were sisters, sharing everything about their lives - except this. The proverbial elephant in the living room.

But what was to share? The brothers, Paul and Peter, were identical twins. They had a bond that began in the womb. It surprised Carly at first to see Cary wearing a collar. She and Paul had a serious D/s relationship from day one and she fully expected to be collared on her wedding night. So why was she surprised to see Cary come back from the honeymoon with a band of steel around her neck?

As for the elephant, they'd never been forbidden to talk about it. Leashed, their lives were so identical that there was really nothing to discuss. They submitted. They obeyed.

Carly waited for Cary to slither into her sack. She could have been looking at herself. The women could be twins, or at least siblings. They shared a compact body, kind of thick in the waist, but not fat by any means. They had slim hips and full breasts, way more than a handful, but, contrary to the old saying, they didn't go to waste. The brothers saw to that. Both had started life with mousy brown hair that they now dyed dark, chocolate brown, almost black, kept short in a cute, sassy style.

Even their names were similar - Carlene and Caroline.

Cary worked her way into the sack. She pulled the spandex hood over her head. Cary had brought one for each of them. Not as complicated their serious hoods with the straps and laces and whatnot, but in some ways more convenient. It was just two layers of spandex, a bag within a bag with a few seams sewn in to give it shape. There was a stubby tube glued in place. Carly didn't know if Cary had made it or bought it, but it seemed like a tube in a flange and Cary had glued the flange between the layers of cloth. It had a rubbery taste. A taste Carly equated with nights in her sack.

Even with practice, they couldn't get all the way into the sacks unaided given the internal arm tubes. So when Carly determined that Cary had gone as far as she could she slipped into her own sack, pulled on her own hood, slid her arms into the tubes as best she could, and waited.

She didn't have to wait long.

One of the brothers came into the tent. Paul or Peter, she didn't know who, and it didn't matter. Paul had given Peter her slave name and, likewise, Peter had given Paul Cary's. Knowing a slave's private name gave that person ownership privileges.

Except that they lived in different houses, in their eyes Carly and Cary were interchangeable. Though, generally, the twins didn't push the point. There was more interaction early on, probably just to impress upon the women the true nature of the situation. And whenever one visited the other, the house slave served both. But, all in all, each seemed happy with his chosen subbie.

Carly waited while Cary was settled in, then hands gripped the sack and tugged. Carly writhed, working her way further into the sack, encasing herself more completely. The zipper was pulled, drawing the stretchy cloth more tightly around her, giving her a thrill of helplessness. Hands fiddled with her hood, making minor adjustments and then the sleeping bag was flipped closed and zipped.

It was always like this when they travelled. And with the brothers' business, they travelled often. Bondage gear would raise eyebrows with airport security, but the sack and hood were just more bits of cloth. It didn't matter if they were in a five-star hotel, or, as now, on a spit of land on the bend of a river, deep in the woods, she spent every night encased in darlex.

Business and pleasure having been taken care of, they'd be flying home tomorrow. But for one more night, Carly was snug in her sack - a very happy camper.

05.12.11