This story is rather mild, sex-wise and bdsm-wise, but overall has a nice pleasant glow to it. It will especially appeal to those who are into machine-themed stories. In any case, I think you will like it.
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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2020 by The Technician.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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There are few things that upset me more than a client who comes to me at the last minute. And right now I am pretty upset. The annual party for the local BDSM club in which I am actually a member was coming up and I already had more than enough work to do. But as the date got close, I got multiple texts, emails, and voice mails all of which began, “W, would it be possible…”
Some wanted rather standard equipment but wanted it immediately. Luckily, I had most of what they wanted in stock. Some wanted specialized equipment that no amount of money could make happen in the time available. Some wanted… well, they didn’t know what they hell they wanted. And then there were the twins.
Lacy and Stacy were RBB twins. RBB is a notation I use in my personal files. It stands for Rich Bitch Brat. That doesn’t mean I won’t do work for them. I work for some pretty nasty people, so petty, spoiled brats are not a problem. As long as someone doesn’t want an assassination device or some kind of pure torture equipment or a device that would do permanent bodily harm, I don’t care what kind of personality someone has. As long as their money is good, I will build what they want. And for most of my clients their money is good… and plentiful.
Unfortunately, many of their children are brats. So I have to regularly deal with RBBs and RABs. The A stands for asshole. Somehow it doesn’t feel right to me to call a female an asshole, though I have met a few for whom the epithet actually fits. And I’ve met a few males who qualify more for the bitch moniker. The twins were definitely RBBs.
Lacy and Stacy were spoiled brats growing up. When they turned twenty-one and their full trusts became available to them, they got worse. Their dad, Victor Bartholomew, knew they were brats. He once said, “I wish I could blame their mother for them being spoiled, but I’m the Master of the house. I’m the one who did it.”
Victor was afraid that his Master-slave relationship with their mother, Barbara– known in the club as slave babs– might bleed into his parenting. It did, but in reverse. He was so afraid that he would be too masterful over his children that he basically let them run feral. They grew up pretty wild and had several run-ins with the law. When they were nineteen, they and several of their college friends, got arrested when the cops busted a free-for-all drug-induced orgy in the middle of the town park. The arresting officer told them, “I would think that children of Chief Master Victor would know what was allowed and what wasn’t tolerated in this town.”
After daddy had bailed them out and paid the fines, they wanted to know what this “Chief Master” thing was all about. He tried to put them off, but they pushed pretty hard. And it is hard enough for a father to resist one daughter batting her big doe eyes at him. When two do it in unison, resistance becomes almost impossible. He told them what Chief Master meant… sort of. The BDSM club scene is something that is better experienced than described. They were made probationary members of the club and classified as “neutrals.” That is the same designation used for a spouse who knows of her husband’s– or his wife’s– membership, but does not participate as a Master or a submissive.
Last year they attended the annual munch as observers… more or less. Their eyes got really wide the first time they saw their mother naked at their father’s feet. Their eyes– and their mouths– got even wider as they witnessed some of the activities of the club. Nothing– except the actual Master/slave relationships– was anything that they, themselves, hadn’t already seen, done, or participated in. What was surprising to them was that someone as old and uncool as their parents did any of that. Chief Master Daddy was a little surprised himself that both of his daughters knew how to tie some of the complicated bondage knots that were used for various activities during the night.
This year is the last year that the twins can attend as probationary members. At this year’s meeting– if they desire to remain members– they have to declare themselves as Mistresses or submissives and request full membership. If they chose Mistress, they will have to find a submissive… and a mentor who will guide them in the proper rules, expectations, and responsibilities of that position. If they choose submissive they will have to find a Master or Mistress who will fully train them. The club will, of course, help them in all of that once they have declared themselves.
About three months before the meeting, they came to me and asked me to create a special machine for their “coming out” as they called it. They have this habit of talking in a weird almost unison that can drive you nuts in a really short time. It is bad enough that one will start a sentence and the other will finish it, but sometimes they will alternate basically every other word or speak in perfect unison. Or worse, they will suddenly babble at each other in some strange not-really-a-language that only they could speak or understand. They have the strongest twin bonding I have ever seen or experienced. It is like dealing with one person split in two.
Stacy and Lacy are identical twins with perfectly-proportioned faces and equally perfect bodies to match. Some of my friends would say that the twins have small tits, but I disagree. I go by the adage that more than a handful is helpful, but more than a mouthful is wasteful. Their 36C breasts are perky and symmetrical, and their bright pink nipples point just slightly up. Since both girls are exactly 5′ 3″ that means that when you are looking down at them, their breasts are looking up at you, often through a thin, clingy blouse or sweater… and no bra.
Most people can’t tell them apart, but if you can get your gaze to move up a little ways off their chests and actually look at their faces, it’s pretty simple. Both girls are heterochromatic. That sounds like some weird sexual perversion, but heterochromia actually means that your eyes are multicolored. It can be in one eye with part of the circle of the iris green and the rest brown or it can be complete heterochromia, sometimes called pure heterochromia, where one eye is one color and the other eye is a totally different color.
Lacy’s left eye is a brilliant Irish blue, while her right eye is heather green. Stacy is a mirror image. Her right eye is blue while her left eye is green. You just have to remember that the blue (L)eft eye belongs to (L)acy.
Lacy also has a small, round birthmark in the center of her left buttocks– again remember the L in Left and Lacy. Stacy has the same, identical birthmark, but it is in the center of her right buttocks. I have seen them both in bikinis, or maybe what they wore that day should have been called microkinis– besides which they were topless. In any case, I’ve seen just about everything there is to see for both Lacy and Stacy and can tell them apart from the front or from the back… providing their eyes are open and their asses are bare.
I once asked Stacy if she had situs inversus, since she was a mirror image of Lacy in every other way. I had to explain that it wasn’t an illness, but rather just the term for someone whose heart and other organs were on the opposite side of where they were in most people.
She looked at me a little confused and then said, “Oh! That’s why the doctor listens to me here…” pointing to just beneath her right breast, “… and he listens to Lacy here…” pointing to just beneath her left breast.”
She smiled at me, pointed down at her crotch, and said, “But the important stuff in the middle is in the right place.” Then she cocked her head as if she were thinking and said, “But my larger flap is on the right side while Lacy’s is on the left.”
It was my turn to look confused until I realized that she was talking about her labia that extended slightly from her slit. That was one identifier that I didn’t think I needed to remember because I would probably never, ever see it.
The day they came to me they were surprisingly respectful. “Mr W, they said in unison. Then they continued in their every other word fashion, “we – would – like – you – to – build – us – a machine – or machines – so – that – we – can – decide – which of us is a slave – and which of us is a Master.”
Then they both smiled at me with the most mischievous smiles I had ever seen. As they stood there for what seemed like several minutes standing totally still with their heads cocked slightly to one side and that little girl smile frozen on their faces I realized why their dad had such a hard time not spoiling them. I also noticed that Lacy’s smile curled upward slightly more on the left side while Stacy’s curled more on the right side.
“I assume you want this machine for the night of the party,” I replied, “and not for some special event.”
Their bodies remained frozen, but their faces relaxed as they answered in unison, “Of course, Mister W. It would be even better if the machine or perhaps the people at the party made the decision for us.”
Then Lacy said, “We know that one of us is the Master sometimes, but not all the time.” And Stacy continued, “And one of us is the submissive slave sometimes, but not all the time.” Then they said in unison, “We are our own Mistress and submissive pair, but we don’t know which is which. Would you help us find out? … Please?”
That last word was drawn out quite a bit and accompanied by the synchronized batting of two sets of eyelashes. No wonder Master Victor couldn’t resist them.
“OK,” I responded, “but there are some caveats. You came to me really late for this so I am going to have to push aside other projects rather than scheduling it in. That means that I am going to charge you triple for my labor. The parts will also be more expensive because I will have to use priority rush shipping from God knows where for things I might need. In other words, it is going to be expensive.”
“We agree,” they said in unison. They didn’t ask the price, but for most of my stuff, including when I am doing detective work for someone, if you have to ask, you can’t afford me.
“And for this to work,” I added sternly, “it will have to be a surprise to everyone, including you. No one sees what I have built until the night of the party.”
“We agree,” they again said in unison.
“OK, then,” I said, trying to hold my stern demeanor against the onslaught of their beauty, their sparkling eyes, and their smiles. “Now get your pretty little almost identical asses out of here.”
“Bye, Mister W,” they both said as they turned and bounced out of my shop. As they went through the big door, they both turned and gave me a little wave. Lacy waved with her left hand while Stacy waved with her right. Or maybe it was the other way around. They weren’t close enough for me to see the colors of their eyes.
After they left, I expressed my frustration by talking to myself in a bad imitation of their unison voices, “Mister W, what in the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?”
My apprehension got a boost later that afternoon when I heard a soft knock at the door to my shop. I wasn’t expecting anyone and the security warning hadn’t indicated that anyone had driven into the parking lot. Also, there were no cars visible on the security monitor. I flipped the monitor to the door camera– which would have happened automatically if whoever it was had used the doorbell.
I put my Glock back in its holder beneath my workbench when I saw the smiling face of Lacy– without Stacy or anyone else– standing at my door.
I opened the door and gestured for her to come in. “Yes?” I asked.
“Well… um… Mister W,” she began haltingly, “I have some additional… specifications… for whatever it is that you are going to build for me and Stacy.”
“And they are?” I said, trying to keep any suspicion or anger out of my voice. I was already starting to regret agreeing to this. It was beginning to feel like a typical RBB project.
“Well,” she began after taking a big breath and letting it out, “what we said before wasn’t exactly true. I mean, both Stacy and I enjoy someone doing things to us. But Stacy enjoys it a lot more than me. And we both enjoy being really in charge. But I enjoy it a lot more than Stacy. So I think that both of us would be happiest if you would rig the machine or the final results or whatever so it comes out that I am the Mistress and Stacy is the submissive.”
She batted her eyes at me and asked, “Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, I think I do,” I answered, slowly nodding my head up and down. “You want to cheat to make sure that Stacy is your slave and you are her Mistress.”
“It sounds kind of harsh when you say it like that,” she replied, “but, yes, that’s what I want you to do.” She made a strange face and sort of shrugged and then said, “I think both of us would be happiest that way.”
“OK,” I said. “I will take that into consideration as I design and build… whatever.”
“Thanks, Mister W,” she said with a big smile.
“One thing,” I said, stopping her from turning to leave. “I don’t see a car out there. How did you get here?”
I actually was more interested in how she got all the way up to the door of my shop without triggering any of the security systems.
“Oh,” she said, almost excited, “I rode my bicycle. The trail goes along where the tracks used to be. I locked my bike to a tree and then came across the big concrete area where they tore down the warehouse. Then I just walked around your building to the front door.”
“Thank you,” I said, “that is very helpful to know.”
As soon as she left, I made several notations about upgrading my security system. I normally do a threat assessment every six months, and the warehouse was still there six months ago. I mentally kicked myself in the ass for not checking things when it was recently taken down. My sensors were set up to detect someone going into or out of the area between the buildings. I hadn’t realized there was a blind spot between the sensors that became a hole in my detection once the building was gone. Once Lacy, with her petite size, was actually against the side of my building, she slipped under the sensors. It was time for a full upgrade on all of that. My workshop isn’t quite as protected as my houses, but I don’t want someone sneaking up on me and surprising me.
I went back to my desk to work on a few ideas that were forming in my head. Then about an hour later I heard another soft knock on the door. I triggered the camera and almost said, “What now, Lacy?” but then I noticed the blue eye was on the right side. This was Stacy.
I opened the door and gestured for her to come in. “Yes?” I asked.
The sense of dejavu was absolute as she began, “Well… um… Mister W… I have some additional… specifications… for whatever it is that you are going to build for me and Lacy.”
“And they are?” I said, trying to keep from smiling like an idiot. Somehow I knew for sure what she was going to say next. And she didn’t disappoint me.
“Well,” she began after taking a big breath and letting it out, “what we said before wasn’t exactly true. I mean, both Lacy and I enjoy someone doing things to us. But Lacy enjoys it a lot more than me. And we both enjoy being really in charge. But I enjoy it a lot more than Lacy. So I think that both of us would be happiest if you would rig the machine or the final results or whatever so it comes out that I am the Mistress and Lacy is the submissive.”
She batted her eyes at me and asked, “Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes, I think I do,” I answered, slowly nodding my head up and down. There were several things I wanted to say, but I decided to stick to the *********** and said, “You want to cheat to make sure that Lacy is your slave and you are her Mistress.”
“It sounds kind of harsh when you say it like that,” she replied, “but, yes, that’s what I want you to do.” She made the same strange face that Lacy had, shrugged and said, “I think both of us would be happiest that way.”
“OK,” I said. “I will take that into consideration as I design and build… whatever.”
“Thanks, Mister W,” she said with a big smile.
After she left, as I was walking back to my desk, I could have sworn I saw a white rabbit hop into the corner, sit up on his back legs, and check the time on his big pocket watch before he said to me in Lacy and Stacy’s unison voices, “Welcome to Wonderland, Mister W.”
My subconscious was working more than overtime warning me that shit was getting weird. I opened my desk drawer and took out my bottle of dark rum and a small glass. As I filled it nearly to the brim I said, “Curiouser and curiouser.” Then I sat sipping rum and making notes and sketches on my big desk pad. Seven hours and half a bottle of rum later, I had gotten nowhere. I looked over at the corner of the room to see if my watch-wearing rabbit had any ideas, but he had evidently hopped off to inhabit someone else’s hallucinations. Then I did what I should have done as soon as Stacey left. I called Jamie.
“How’s my favorite shrink?” I asked when she answered the phone.
“Something is up, W,” she replied, “or you wouldn’t have called me at home at this hour.”
“What time is it?” I asked, and she replied with that deep throaty laugh of hers, “Something is definitely up, W, if you’ve lost track of time. How much of that bottle of rum do you have left?”
I sputtered slightly and said, “What makes you think I’ve been drinking rum?”
“You always sip rum so you can think better when you are working on a difficult problem,” she said in her professional therapist voice. “Since it’s damn near midnight, I’d say you’ve thought your way through at least half-a-bottle.”
“It’s at least a half-a-bottle problem,” I replied. “I got suckered into making something for the Bartholomew twins and I don’t know what to do.”
“I can’t help you design something,” she replied softly. “You’re the technical genius.”
“The equipment is a minor part of the problem,” I answered. “Lacy and Stacey are the big problem. I’m supposed to come up with something that determines which of them is Mistress and which is submissive and they both want me to cheat so the other is the submissive.”
“Perhaps they are both Mistresses,” Jamie said in her non-committal professional voice.
“But they both say they enjoy being dominated… and even having things done to them,” I said in frustration.
“There you have it,” she said emphatically. “They are both switches.”
“But it’s more than that,” I said, starting to sound angry, “they want to be Mistress and sub only to each other and they are identical. In fact, they are so identical that it is like one person who wants to be Mistress and sub at the same time.”
“Interesting,” Jamie said. Then she went silent.
“Interesting in what way?” I asked. Her tone of voice and then her silence meant she was thinking about something.
“If they weren’t identical twins,” she began slowly, “I would say you were dealing with folie à deux.”
I gave a short burst of laughter and said, “You’re going to have to translate that one for this poor engineering type.”
“Folie à deux,” she responded, “is a shared madness… madness for two. Somehow the hallucinations and psychosis of one person get transferred to the other, sometimes when they are not even in the same room.”
“Twin bonding,” I said firmly. “… as in they speak in unison or alternate every other word, and they both used exactly the same wording when they snuck back to my shop to ask me to cheat for them in the design of the equipment.”
“Folie à deux in the extreme,” Jamie said, “but it isn’t madness. It is just their world as closely-bonded identical twins.” She paused a moment and then said, “Is one of them situs inversus?”
I chuckled and said, “Yes, Stacy. She is an exact, reversed duplicate of Lacy right down to the blue-green eyes, the birthmark in the center of her ass, and which flap is longer.”
“I see you’ve closely examined them,” she replied. Her voice sounded a bit frosty, so I quickly added, “Stacey told me that bit about the flap, and I’ve seen them in bikinis. The birthmark is hard to miss.”
“Sorry,” she said, her voice returning to normal, “but I deal with a lot of disturbed people and when a red flag goes up the pole– no pun intended– I kind of react.” She paused and then said, “My professional advice would be to treat them as one person. Design your machine as though it were for a single person and then split it in two.”
“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” I said excitedly– well, as excitedly as I ever get– “you said you couldn’t design something for me and you just did it.”
“I didn’t say anything at all about any hardware,” she replied firmly.
“But you said what it had to be,” I said, still in my excited mode. “After that, the nuts and bolts are just… nuts and bolts.”
“I wasn’t sure I was coming to this year’s munch,” Jamie said, “but now you’ve got me intrigued. I will be there if for no other reason than to see what machine you actually come up with.”
“I owe you, Jamie,” I said, and she answered, “Dinner at La Petite Rose next Friday night. And then maybe we will have time for some dessert at my place.”
“You’re on,” I said, “Dinner at La Petite Rose next Friday night.”
“Don’t forget about the dessert,” she said softly.
I was about to make some really witty reply, but she had already hung up. She knew that I was about to begin a frenzy of design and building. Five days, eleven pizzas, and numerous special deliveries from various electronics and hardware companies later, Douleur et Plaisir À Deux was complete. I even had that name on opposite sides across the heavy beam that formed the square at the top of the machine. It wasn’t madness for two– folie à deux– but rather pain and pleasure for two.
The completed unit looked somewhat like an oversized telephone booth… or upright tanning booth for those people who have never seen a real phone booth. It was primarily made out of aluminum tubing with a large solid area on the top and on the bottom. A plexiglass panel split the booth from corner to corner and there were large, open doorways on opposite corners. From the padding and straps, it was obvious– at least to me– that two people were supposed to be bound inside the booth facing each other. Several identical motorized devices were mounted on the tubing on both sides of the booth. In addition, a multitude of wires hung from controllers on both sides of the plexiglass. The whole contraption was transported to the club in secrecy and kept carefully hidden until the proper time.
The night of the party– referred to as a munch by many of the club members– I was deluged with questions about the device. I carefully deflected all questions and said only that Lacy and Stacy were going to make their decision tonight and that my apparatus was going to help them decide.
I had to call in a few favors, but the demonstration of the device… and the twins’ decision and potential official acceptance into the club, was moved to the very end of the program just before people drifted off to the private or specialty rooms. The meal was excellent. The displays and demonstrations and public punishments which followed were all superb. But I wasn’t paying any real attention to any of that. It’s not that I didn’t notice the blond submissive who cocksucked her way down a line of a dozen Masters in record time. And the paddle techniques of Mistress Viola were very enjoyable to everyone who wasn’t bound on one of her spanking benches. But my mind wasn’t on what I was sitting there seeing. Instead I was going over every aspect of my machine in my mind, picturing exactly what it was supposed to do and what it was supposed to create.
It’s not just that my reputation was on the line. That’s true every time I build and demonstrate a special device. That wasn’t my worry. I have been doing this for a long time and was confident that my device would mechanically and electrically and hydraulicly work as it was designed. But this was the first time that I was playing God with a young woman’s life… two young women’s lives actually. Would my machine, with all its properly working devices, do what I intended it to do? Would the result be what was expected? I was worried that if I had figured wrong about the twins, I could seriously screw up two already fairly-screwed-up girls.
Finally it was time. I sent the twins off with Jamie to get into their outfits. Then the apparatus was wheeled out. First I translated Douleur et Plaisir À Deux for those who didn’t speak French… Pain and Pleasure for Two. Then I gave a short explanation of what Lacy and Stacy had asked for, omitting the part about each of them coming back and asking me to cheat. I said that, regrettably, the machine, not the members of the club, would reveal the Mistress and the sub. That brought a fake groan of disappointment from many of the members– at least I hope it was fake. Then Jamie brought the girls back out.
There was a round of polite applause… and a lot of murmuring which was accompanied by enthusiastic pointing. The twin’s outfits each consisted of a pair of very dark sunglasses and two pieces of red athletic tape. There were also bluetooth earpieces in their ears making it impossible for them to hear anything but my voice, but I don’t think that the small rods showing from each ear really count as a part of their outfits.
The sunglasses hid which eye was blue and which was green, and the pieces of athletic tape, cut into the shape of a heart, covered the place where the birthmark would be on both girls’ right and left asscheeks. Without those telltale signs, no one in the club could tell who was Lacy and who was Stacy.
Jamie carefully guided one of the twins to one side of the machine. I guided the other to the opposite side. Just like the twins that now stood within them, the two halves of the machine were identical… but opposite.
The first step in binding my twin… or perhaps I should say the twin on my side… the first step was to have her carefully step into the leather restraint boots which were already attached to the floor of the booth. Then her abdomen, just below the breasts, was pressed against the padded cradle and a wide strap was wrapped around her back and fastened snugly, but not too tightly.
I carefully guided my twin’s neck into the padded neck hole on the divider which separated the very top portion of the booth from the lower areas. Then I made sure her wrists were centered in their padded holes and slid the other half of the stock into place. She was now bound upright with her head and hands above the ceiling of the open portion of the booth.
I said, “These can come off now,” and reached to remove the sunglasses. I waited for a few moments and then asked, “Ready, Jamie?”
When Jamie answered, “Yes,” I slid the final portion of the stock into place around the head effectively enclosing it in a box.
“Now the electronic magic,” I said to both twins– and to the entire room– as the heads up displays came on in front of both of their faces. The glass in front of the girls was blank, but in the darkness of the box enclosing their heads, the projected icons and information made it almost like looking at a computer screen. The projection also illuminated the box sufficiently to see a face behind the display. What was on the displays was duplicated on large display screens that were mounted high above the booth.
“If you reach forward slightly with your hands,” I began to explain, “you will find that your fingers are able to reach the touch screens that control everything you see in front of you.”
I laughed slightly and then said, “Maybe I should have said everything you see on your screen because you can see through the screen to the mirror image you. But I guess I was right the first time because what you are going to be doing is controlling what the machine does to that person you are watching… once we get the rest of this set up.”
At this point a dozen naked young women came scurrying out and began finishing the setup. Jamie and I could have handled it, but the dozen naked ladies were faster and much more enjoyable to watch. They quickly put the breast cups on both girls and strapped them in place across their backs like a bra. Inside the cups was an interesting array of hydraulics and electronics which could massage, twist, tweak, and electrically stimulate from pleasurable tingles up to very painful shocks. I didn’t design the breast cups just for this machine. They were something I had come up with a few years ago and kept several in stock.
Next they mounted the Vaginal Stimulater. At least, that is what it is called in my catalog. Most customers refer to it as the cunt hook because it mounts in front of a woman, either on a stand or on the wall, and holds her up on her toes while at the same time providing thrust, vibration, and electrical stimulation… again with the whole range from pleasant tingle to painful shock. Since the twins were restrained in boots attached to the floor, the cunt hooks were adjusted to lift only slightly.
The standard cunt hook includes a clitoral stimulater with all features, but I had modified these to also include an anal portion. An anal hook extended past the twin’s slit and supported a rather substantial butt plug with the same thrust, vibration, and electrical stimulation that the front dildo could provide. In addition, there was an LED light array on the outside portion of the anal hook that pulsed and got brighter or dimmer depending on the level of the electrical pulses.
After the twins were properly impaled on the cunt and anal hooks, the naked assembly girls began to press 76 E-STIM patches on the twins’ legs, arms, and abdomen. Each of the patches was equipped with four LEDS of different color that would light when the patch was active. The color and intensity of the light would be in proportion to the intensity of the E-STIM pulse. The back and, of course, the ass were kept clear for reasons which became apparent when the naked assistants attached the spanking machines to the tubing framework.
Three machines were mounted on each side of the booth with the upper and lower machines striking from the left and the middle machine striking from the right. The upper machine had a soft multi-strand whip attached with which it could flog the twin’s back. The next machine was equipped with a short, very whippy cane, and the bottom-most machine was equipped with a short leather paddle. Designing the arms of those two so that they would not obstruct each other if operated rapidly one after the other was one of the more challenging aspects of this design.
The final thing the nubile young girls installed was a strange-looking multi-segmented arm that was mounted directly behind each twin’s head. It looked like a miniature hydraulic crane hanging upside down with a wheel on the end that resembled a power hay rake used by farmers to pile hay into rows in the fields. That device was especially designed for Douleur et Plaisir À Deux.
The twelve girls finished their installation and stood in a line while I carefully inspected their work. Once I was sure everything was properly in place, I told them, “Very good job, girls. Now you may run along and play until I need you later.”
As they ran giggling from the room, I called out, “Let’s give a big round of thanks to the Sisters of Saphos for helping me here tonight.” I was sure they were headed for the females-only room. They weren’t my slaves or even my submissives. In fact, I wasn’t sure who amongst them were sub or Dom, but I had built some specialty machines for the Sisters in the past at significant discount and they have provided interesting scenery for me at several BDSM shows and product exhibitions.
After the dozen naked girls had left the room and the attention of the crowd had returned to me, I said, “From this point on, it is all up to Lacy, Stacy, and the Douleur et Plaisir À Deux.”
The booth with its two captive, naked, girls began to slowly rotate. I waited for it to complete one full revolution before continuing. “They each,” I explained, “have control over what happens to their mirror twin… most of the time. But why build a very expensive machine when they could do that all on their own? The machine determines whether what they call up on their touch screens happens to their twin… or to them. Things will continue until one of them surrenders and submits to the face before her.” Since both twins earpieces were on, they also heard what I was saying.
When I said that, two faces were added to the copies of the heads up displays which were cloned on the large overhead screens. Now the screens were exactly as the twins were seeing them. Both screens flashed the message, “Begin in… Three… Two… One..”
On one, the booth was activated and the earpieces shut off, effectively isolating the twins. There was a pause and then both cursors started to move. They were just enough different in their movements so that you could be sure that you were not watching duplicate screens, but they both went over and ***********ed “SPANK,” then “PADDLE,” and finally, “LIGHT STROKE.” Both cursors then moved to the keypad and clicked on 7.
The spanking machines on both sides of the booth came to life. On the light stroke setting, the spring arm was not pulled back as far, and there was a stop that remained in place to keep the arm from flying fully forward. When the arm hit the stop, the paddle was just short of striking flesh. Had it been a wooden paddle, nothing would have happened, but with a flexible leather paddle it continued forward to smartly pop Lacy’s… and Stacy’s ass.
A few seconds later, both faces in the displays showed surprise as the paddle smacked their own ass. Twin muffled yelps accompanied the remaining six smacks. As one of the twins slowly rotated past, I noted with appreciation that the now seven red welts were spread out over both asscheeks. The randomizer routine in the machine’s controller was working perfectly.
The curser in the display now moved to the “Vaginal Uplift” control. Both set the MODE to PLEASURE and the INTENSITY to 5. Initially Stacey set the DURATION to 1.5 minutes, but before she pressed ACCEPT, she changed that to 3 minutes to match what Lacy had entered. When she did, Jamie leaned in close to me and said, “I would love to get these two into some sort of study.”
“You already did,” I answered, “but I don’t know how you would report your results.”
Both girls gasped as the vibrators in the cunt hooks activated. The contact that was pressed against their clit also began delivering very, very mild electrical pulses. The plug connected to the anal hook that was extended from the cunt hook also began delivering very mild, rhythmic pulses. If it was working properly, the pulses would sequence up and down the length of the anal probe and the resulting muscle contractions would make it feel as if the anal hook was ass-fucking them.
After two minutes of this, both girls were having just a little trouble moving the curser on the touch screen. Both went to the MODE control and changed it from PLEASURE to PAIN. Then they both set the INTENSITY to 7.
A minute later, when the pleasure cycle finished, both girls screamed as the intense pain cycle began. Neither twin had moved the DURATION from its 3 minute settings, so both screamed and yelped as bolt after bolt of lightning attacked their cunt and ass. At the end of each minute of the cycle, there was an especially loud scream as the clit contact discharged its lightning directly onto that sensitive nub.
After that the twins moved back to pleasure, but this time they activated the breast controls. For the NIPPLE controls the choices were PINCH, TWIST, TWEAK, SHOCK, or COMBINATION. Both girls chose COMBINATION and checked all four possibilities from the list. The choices for BREAST were MASSAGE, BIND, SHOCK, SLAP, or COMBINATION. Again they chose COMBINATION and ***********ed all of the items from the list. The DURATION chosen was 5 minutes. For both they chose an INTENSITY setting of RANDOM.
“They’re exploring what your box can actually do,” Jamie whispered. Her attention was snapped back to the twins when both began alternating loud yelps and soft moans.
“There’s no ***********ion for pleasure or pain on the breast controls,” I said with a slight smile, “because the same action is both depending on the intensity. They are getting the full range of what my device can do to their breasts.”
“Interesting,” Jamie said, looking at me over the top of her glasses. I always worry when she says “interesting” like that.
The level of conversation in the room was starting to rise. I could hear various Masters or Mistresses talk about getting “one of those” for their slave. One Mistress wondered aloud if there were a male version of the device. The answer to that was, “Not yet, but if you are willing to pay for the additional development, I will build it for you.”
The twins next moved to the various spanking devices. Again, there was a COMBINATION and RANDOM ***********ion on the menu. I was surprised and Jamie gave one of her low laughs when both girls ***********ed 25 as the number of strokes.
In combination mode, the discipline segment starts with the flogger across the back and then moves to the leather paddle which both girls had already experienced. Finally, the short, whippy cane comes into play. Since the girls had specified 25 strokes, there would be eight from each implement and then one final stroke where everything hits at the same time.
The twins were stoic through the flogging even though one or two of the strokes were at maximum. A machine really can’t hit very hard with a soft flogger. The paddle, however, had both of them yelping when it delivered a maximum stroke. The loud “Smack!” of the small leather paddle hitting assflesh brought everyone’s attention back to the demonstration. Then it was time for the cane. There is a setting for the cane which says OVERLAY. I didn’t expect them to use it, but I put it in the programming anyway. What it does is insure that each stroke of the cane is laid exactly over the previous stroke. The first “Thwap!” of the cane brought a shrill yelp from both twins. But after the third strike they realized what was happening and began crying out, “Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” interspersed with shrill screeches when the cane actually hit.
There was a pause, and everyone was waiting expectantly for that twenty-fifth stroke. Then all three arms actuated at the same time. Both twins screamed loudly as the flogger, the paddle, and the cane all hit together. Many in the crowd were surprised or amazed and it showed on their faces. I knew I was smiling broadly, because I knew how difficult that simultaneous strike had been to engineer.
“What do you think will happen next?” Jamie said. Her eyes were twinkling. She thought she already knew the answer and was testing me.
“They will switch to pleasure combined with the pain,” I said, “and they will use the chain feature.”
Jamie’s brows furled slightly and she said, “There are no chains on them.”
“Program chains,” I replied. I was pretty sure my eyes were now twinkling. You don’t catch Jamie at anything very often. “They will put in a whole series of commands and then let the machine run wild. I think they hope to overwhelm the other and force a submission.”
All I got in response from Jamie was a drawn out, “Hmmmm.”
I was paying close attention to the cursors on the display screens. Both twins were rapidly ***********ing various pleasure and pain options and were adding the RUN TOGETHER option for each ***********ion. After what seemed like several minutes but was more likely several seconds, their ***********ions were made and they both clicked on the RUN CHAIN button.
I checked the control app on my phone to see what all they had chosen. “This is going to be interesting,” I said to Jamie as I put my phone away.
“Engineering interesting or perv interesting or psychiatrist interesting?” she replied.
I smiled smugly at her and said, “Yes, and I have one more thing to make it even more interesting.” I ***********ed an item that did not appear on the heads-up displays in front of either twin. On the app it was labeled Wartenberg Wheel, but dear Doctor Wartenberg would not recognize what I had done to his simple device used to measure nerve response. In place of a small wheel only a little bigger than a quarter with a dozen or so angled needles that could be run gently– or roughly– over a patient’s flesh, there was a set of three wheels on the same axle. Each wheel was about three inches across with the prickers– the pins which stick into the flesh– on the center wheel pointed straight out, the ones on the left wheel angled one direction and the ones on the right wheel angled the other. That meant that one set of prickers was creating maximum sensation while the center was creating normal sensation and the other was creating light sensation. It wouldn’t add significantly to the pleasure or the pain, but both twins would be sure that they didn’t *********** that on their panel.
“My dear W,” Jamie said leaning in and looking at me directly eye to eye, “I think you just might be the most interesting thing here tonight.”
“Are you suggesting that we investigate that further later tonight?” I asked with a smile.
“We will see,” she replied, turning back to watch the rotating booth. “We will see.”
The noise of the powerful vibrators in the cunt hooks roaring up to maximum caused anyone who had not been paying attention to return their gaze to the booth. Both twins were gasping and grunting. Then the LED indicators on the TENS patches sprang to life. The light– and the shocks– were flowing up and down the twins’ bodies. Their voices went from passionate keening to painful screaming in time with the flow and color of the lights.
Then the triple Wartenberg Wheel began rolling down their back. Both twins stiffened to almost rigid as the strange sensations went down one side of their back all the way over there well-rounded rumps and then lifted and went back up the other side.
No sooner had the wheels reached the twins’ shoulders when the flogger, paddle, and cane sprang to life. A bright flash of light between their asscheeks showed that the electrode rings in the butt plug were also joining in the assault on their asses.
There were yelps of pain, but those yelps soon became more and more throaty. Both twins were now undulating on their cunt hooks, almost fucking themselves with that huge dildo. The three spanking arms pulled away and the oversized Wartenberg Wheel again made its journey down and then up their backs.
That cycle repeated four times. The Wartenberg Wheel had just started to descend for the fifth time when both twins began screaming, “I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it! I submit. I submit. I submit.”
There was a loud dinging that sounded almost like an old-fashioned street-car or trolley bell. Actually it was exactly that. I had used that sound to indicate that the program was complete.
I stood up and said, “Bring them both over here.” As my bevy of assistants hurried over to the booth, I added, “Remember to put their dark glasses back on.”
Soon both twins were standing in front of me. Their glasses had been returned to their faces and their bluetooth earpieces were still in their ears. I ***********ed the frequency for Lacy and then walked up to stand directly in front of her.
“Lacy,” I said, and smiled slightly when she startled and said, “How did you… Oh, left flap.”
I heard Jamie laugh behind me, but no one else in the room knew what she was referring to.
I continued, “You weren’t the Mistress you thought you were… but you aren’t the submissive you think you are either.”
She just hung her head slightly and said, “I guess Stacy’s the Mistress.”
“Yes and no,” I said. Then I signaled my assistants to take the ear pieces out of the twins’ ears.
I stood directly in front of Stacy. When I called her by name, she startled and said, “How did you… Oh, right flap.”
Most of the room began laughing. From the murmuring which followed it was apparent that several people had figured out what they meant.
I stepped closer to her and said softly, “You weren’t the Mistress you thought you were… but you aren’t the submissive you think you are either.”
She just hung her head slightly and said, “I guess Lacy’s the Mistress.”
“Yes and no,” I said. Both twins looked very confused.
“Masters and Mistresses,” I said loudly, “I am sure that all of you thought that you saw one of these twins submit herself to the other. That would mean that one twin would be brought into the club as a Mistress while the other was brought in as a sub.”
I paused and looked around the room before saying, “But that isn’t what you saw.”
I had to wait for the sudden uptick in murmuring to subside before turning to my naked, nubile assistants and saying, “Would you please separate the twins.”
Both twins were now even more confused as my helpers walked past them and went over to the booth. They flipped several concealed latches and it opened at the corners revealing a solid barrier between the two halves in the upper portion.
“Lacy,” I said firmly, “you weren’t watching Stacy’s face as you ordered up the pain and pleasure from the heads-up screen. And Stacy, you weren’t watching Lacy’s face. You were both looking in mirrors. And you were not controlling each other’s instruments of pain and pleasure. You were controlling your own– except for the Wartenberg Wheel which I added just to keep you from figuring out what was happening. So, Lacy, you submitted yourself to… Lacy. And Stacy, you submitted yourself to Stacy.”
Turning to address the members of the club, I said, “I will leave the explanation of folie à deux and how it applies to mirror-image identical twins to Doctor Jamie, but these girls are not full Mistresses nor are they full submissives nor are they switches. They are Mistress and submissive at the same time. My suggestion would be to accept them as both Mistresses and as submissives and let them figure out what all of that means.”
Grand Master Victor stood up and said loudly, “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard… but having lived with these two for so many years, it is actually the only thing that makes sense. I move that Lacy and Stacy be accepted as Mistress and submissive, but the records will not say which is which.”
After the crowd quieted, Vic continued, “My wife, their mother, slave babs, with the help of a couple of very trustworthy Mistresses, will teach them how to be a proper Mistress. For who better understands what a Mistress should be than one who submits herself– or himself– to that Mistress.”
Again he waited for the crowd to quiet and said, “I, their father, with the help of a couple of other very trustworthy Masters, will teach them how to be a proper submissive. For who better understands what a submissive or slave or slut-slave should be than the one who takes responsibility for dominating them.”
I stood and said, “I second Chief Master Victor’s motion for acceptance of Lacy and Stacy into club membership.”
There was a loud chorus of ayes and the twins went over to sit with their dad. I heard him mutter “Left flap?” as they sat on the towel-covered chairs which had been brought to his table.
“You put a lot of work into designing an apparatus that will only be used once,” Jamie said as I sat down.
“I’ve done more work for less,” I replied. “But the basic design can be used by two people or set up as a single with auto-lock restraints for those into more machine-aided self-bondage, self-discipline, and other self-delights.”
“You are a very interesting person, W,” she said, tilting her drink to me in salute.
“So are you going to study me later at my place?” I said.
“Shrinks don’t make house calls,” she answered. Then she smiled and said, “Besides, my bed is much more comfortable and more… interesting.”
It was.
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END OF STORY
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