Having It All

by Jurgen von Stuka

  “I didn't know you had an acting side.”

  “I don't. This was Meg's idea because she needed the credits to graduate and we signed up as extras for the play.”

  “Good of you to help her out.”

  “Yeah. Right. Our costumes were from the school drama club's wardrobe and we wore very short skirts, fitted white shirts and knee socks that supposedly constituted a school girl's uniform. The high heels were a kind of an afterthought by the drama coach and they added a nice, sexy touch. Under that we wore just plain white bras and bikini panties. Actually, for high school, it was pretty risqué. The play ran for five nights and by the third night or so, we were both sweating and hot as we struggled with the real ropes and gags the robbers used on us.”

  “That sounds cool. Did they really tie you well?” Jim asked.

  “Too well. The guy doing the rope work was Boy Scout and in ROTC and really knew his knots. Because we were gagged, our objections were disregarded and he really did a job each night, roping us like prisoners. He used prop rope, which was, I think a kind of Japanese hemp twine and it worked very well. With our wrists and elbows behind our back, the gags tied into our mouths, we were very efficiently restrained. He bound our knees and ankles as well and we were put on the floor and left there to struggle and sob appropriately throughout the play. The script called for us to be tied to a heavy trunk in the store room, but since the school only had one set, we ended up on the side of the stage for almost two hours, bound and gagged, muttering now and then and being threatened by the hoods. Every once in a while, one of the characters would glance at us and make some comment and that was our cue to struggle and groan.”

  “What an adventure for teenage sisters,” Jim said.

  “There was more to it,” Sandy said, sitting down with her gin martini in her hand. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and thought about the play a moment. “I've never told anyone about this, so here goes. The school drama coach was a known les. We all knew it and got along okay with her as she did her own thing in private at home and never so much as winked at any students. But the night the play closed, she somehow arranged for us to stay tied up as the curtain went down and everyone except us took their bows and headed for the dressing rooms to change and go off campus for drinks and dinner. Meg and I lay tied and gagged on the stage floor while the lights went out and everyone left. We were mostly angry, but a little scared. Then, after a half hour or so of us struggling to get free, which we didn't, Carol Jacobs, the drama teacher comes in with a flashlight, shines it on us and says, 'Aren't you guys going to the party?'“

  “We yelled into the sopping wet cloths tied in our mouths and rolled around, trying to get free. We were sweating like crazy and our shirts were open and soaked, presenting two pair of slightly covered, very excited nipples and breasts to anyone who looked, and Carol looked.”

  “Don't tell me she attacked you,” Jim said.

  “No. She didn't really do anything. She sat down on the floor and asked us if we enjoyed being tied up. She asked it very casually, as if we were in class and she was discussing Shakespeare. Both Meg and I were shocked and realized that she had seen us each night and figured out that we were getting off on the ropes and gags on stage. It later came to both of us that a lot of other people probably figured out the same thing as they watched the show. But we didn't even know there was such a thing as B&D or S&M back then. In hindsight, I suspect that there was a bit of crotch-rubbing going on in the audience because some came back for more than one performance.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “She asked if we would be happier if we were tied together and said that she could arrange it if we wanted to try it. Oddly, thinking about it now, I can't imagine what was going through our heads, but we both nodded yes and she bent down, rearranged and tightened the ropes and tied us face to face. She opened our shirts, pulled down our bras and made sure that we were nipple to nipple, crotch to crotch. She retied our feet so that my right leg was tied from thigh to ankle to Meg's left leg and hers the same way. My thigh was lodged up into Meg's crotch and hers into mine. After a few seconds of this, we were both panting and Carol was obviously enjoying herself as well. She watched us carefully and gave us a safe sign, then went backstage, leaving us to writhe and struggle for about a half hour, then she came back. By then, Meg and I had both experienced a rather thrilling climax like we had never had before and we were lying there, weeping, sweating and panting from the enjoyment and the efforts.”

  “My God, did you report her?” Jim asked, astonished at Sandy's candid narrative.

  “Report her? Hell no. She finally untied us, made sure we were both okay and asked if we'd like to try this again sometime. We were both shaken, but said “yes” and went off to the party.”

  “Wow, what an initiation,” Jim said.

  “Yes. It was. So, that's why I think we should have Meg come and visit. Okay?”

  “Okay. Sure. Was there anything else later on? Did you guys have a sister thing going?”

  “The next Fall, while I was doing some work for our father and going to the local community college, Meg went off to the state University on a volley ball scholarship. I helped her pack and there was a lot of stuff that went into the trunk that I thought was not needed for college study…”

  “Such as?”

  “She had a few very skimpy rubber outfits, which were, at that time, not exactly mainstream, but partywear for some venturesome types, especially those with figures like hers.”

  “She certainly had a nice shape the last time I saw her. It would be fun to add her to the program,” Jim said.”What else?”

  “Bags with rope and even some handcuffs. God knows where she got them in those days, but she had a quick affair with a young local cop and I think the cuffs came from him.”

  “How long do you think she'd stay, voluntarily or otherwise?” Jim asked smiling, warming to the idea of a sisterly visit for Christmas and New Years.

  “In her last email she said she was no longer dating the nitwit she went with for a year or two. Not only was he fooling around behind her back, but was also into some less-than-legal activities. She seemed to imply that she was now playing around with another woman, Remmy. How about that?”

  Jim laughed at the thought of adding a lesbian to their play.

  “She could probably take a few weeks off,” Sandy added. “Maybe a month, because the company she works for closes down from Thanksgiving to after New Year's anyway.”

  “Wow. Sounds interesting. Should we invite both of them?” Jim asked, smiling his creative smile, thinking about having three great looking women under his control. Even better, he thought, if they are really into the scene and in full acceptance of the situation as it could evolve. “Invite her to come before Thanksgiving and stay until after the first. Flights will be cheaper if she doesn't fly during the peak periods.”

  “And Remmy?” Sandy asked.

  “Well, you figure out how to invite her. It needs to be carefully thought out because we don't want a problem to ruin our holidays, do we? If they get here and discover you are serving voluntary slave time and they don't go for it, we'd have to throw them out on the street.”

  “Ummmm,” said Sandy. “I think Sister and I need to have a heart-to-heart chat. I'll call her tonight, so you need to give me some slack time to do this. Chain me up, but no gag until afterwards, okay?”

  “Sure. Sure. And see if you can get some recent photos of them as well. Play the role of the tolerant and loving sister who will accept them as they are…providing they accept us as we are, heh, heh, heh,” he added with a faux nastiness.

  “I think they will surprise you,” Sandy said, turning and dragging her chains into the bathroom. As she shut the door, she looked at herself in the mirror and grinned. “Definitely,” she said, “you will be surprised.”

  That night, Sandy phoned Meg and they spent the first fifteen minutes talking about nothing of consequence. Meg sensed that her siste
r was fishing and just let her rattle on. Finally, Sandy asked if Meg would like to come for the holidays. As expected, Meg hesitated and then said that she would love to come, but she was pretty involved with someone else and it would be awkward.

  “Is that someone else Remmy?” Sandy asked, putting a sisterly spin on the question, making it seem totally natural to ask.

  “Yeah. You know about her, right? I mean, like I told you about us after I got rid of asshole Andy.”

  “Sure. I know and so does Jim and we want both of you to come and stay, assuming that you and Remmy are comfortable with that. We want to give you the round trip tickets as a Christmas present, okay?”

  “Wow. Yeah. Sure. Let me make sure Remmy hasn't made any other plans, but I think we could get out of here the week before Thanksgiving. Is that okay with you guys?”

  “Sure. Bring your own handcuffs and stay until we tell you to go home. Sometime after New Years.”

  “Oh, right,” laughed Meg. “I'm sure TSA will love that. I'll stuff a turkey with cuffs and collars and bring it with me…” She laughed harder.

  “You want to fly from SFO or San Jose?”

  “Either one. Book what's cheapest, okay?”

  “I'll let Jim handle it and send you the details by email. I'm pretty tied up these days.”

  “Right. I'm sure. Save us a rack or something.”

  “We'll do it,” said Sandy about to hang up. “Oh,” she added quickly. “Send me some guidelines that you two use. I just want to know what your personal parameters for B&D are so that we are in synch…”

  There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment and then Meg said quietly, as if she were whispering, “Anything goes,” and hung up.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Cuffs

  Part of the charm of having a house full of sexy, young women is that for each of them there are at least four perfect places to attach ropes, chains, shackles and cuffs. Among Sandy, Meg and Remmy, that meant no less than twelve lovely limbs to restrain. As Sandy reminded Jim on the second day of Thanksgiving holiday, “Twelve should not be assumed to be the maximum attachment points for restraint hardware.”

  He looked at her, wondering exactly what she had in mind and then it dawned on him that of course he was not counting the lovely, long necks. So he said, “Of course. I forgot about the collars.”

  “Duh,” said Meg, who was listening to the conversation. She sat on one of the couches, reading a soft cover erotic novel and stuck out her pink tongue at Jim, laughing loudly.

  “Duh, yourself,” added Remmy, sitting next to her. She was curled up with a pink brocade quilt and nothing else around her torso on as far as Jim could tell.

  Remmy's body was a sexual anomaly. Everyone agreed. No one was entitled to look that good, with or without clothes. At twenty five, she blamed the condition on too many years of dieting and working out and almost everyone agreed that if diets and exercise would produce that sort of looks in others, there would be a national rush to the gym. Remmy was a natural blue-eyed blond. Her thick, straw-colored hair reached halfway down her back when it wasn't bound in pigtails or a pony tail or some other distracting arrangement. Her face was oval, shaped almost like a heart, but not cutesy. Her mouth was wide and her teeth, which she swore she did nothing to, were brilliant, sparkling white and perfectly aligned. When Remmy talked, which wasn't that often, she immediately got the attention of anyone in the room because she added her own special body language to her few words. Her head seemed to adjust to make sure that her blue eyes made direct and penetrating contact with yours and she never, ever looked away. Remmy could not enter a room without having most living humans swivel their heads and stare at her. The high, slightly pointed breasts, narrow waist and sleek hips and ass seemed to all move together in a flowing, unexaggerated way, communicating to males and females in the room that this body was not one they were going to even touch, let alone fuck. The women who saw her were either instantly jealous or turned into yearning mush that would do anything to be a close friend or associate of this stunning female. When this happened, Meg would laugh loudly. Never showing any signs of jealousy, Meg seemed to revel in her friend and lover's gaming with her watchers. Sitting at a bar, Meg would often seem to ignore Remmy's attention-getting presence and strike up a conversation with the bartender or anyone else within range. Remmy just stood or sat and ordered her drink and smiled and glowed. It was distracting to even the most assertive people. Remmy had developed her technique to perfection. As a fitness trainer and occasional speaker on personal health, Remmy used more body language and a lot fewer words.

  Since she and Meg arrived, it was clear that Remmy was easily the dominant member of the casual couple, but nevertheless they appeared as a perfect match and neither of them seemed especially worried about establishing a dominant position over anyone…except perhaps each other. They constantly and silently vied for the pole position in everything from where they sat at the dinner table to who got shotgun seat in a vehicle. It reminded Jim of two friendly Golden Retrievers who loved each other, but wanted to make sure that one didn't get more attention than the other.

  Upon arrival at the house, Meg told Sandy that they had encountered some problems with TSA at the airport. The government security loons had scanned and then opened the girls’ carry on suitcases, rummaged through the small amount of interestingly exotic lingerie and then opened the several canvas bags in the suitcases, unceremoniously removing a large collection of cuffs and chains, as well as a small nylon bag with keys, connecting links, snap hooks and locks. Another bag held an assortment of blindfolds, gags, dildoes and other perfectly normal sex play gear. The male TSA inspector was shocked and immediately called his supervisor, a pretty, black woman with three stripes on her shoulder tabs, who arrived quickly, surveyed the hardware displayed on the metal counter where everyone in the security area could see it and ordered the inspector to replace it and do so quickly. She turned to Meg and Remmy, who were standing behind the barrier and apologized profusely for the officer's insensitivity.

  “This is unfortunate and I apologize for any embarrassment it might have caused you,” she said. “If you had indicated that you had erotic materials, we could have carried out the inspection in privacy. Or you could have checked the bags.”

  “I didn't want to check them and have to pay for it because we have so little luggage,” Meg said. The supervisor nodded and made sure that all the items were now back in the carry-on bags. She guided both women through the area, handed them their luggage and shoes and again said she was sorry for the inconvenience.

  “In any case,” she summarized, “the inspecting officer should not have handled it this way. Our training specifically covers this type of situation and you are, of course, well within the allowed categories. We have no problem with erotic toys and materials as long as they pose no threat or danger. I AM sorry.”

  Meg said that she and Remmy both smiled, shrugged, put on their shoes and headed for the departure gate. But the incident illustrated how well these two seemed to handle any sort of crisis. They were indeed a well-matched pair. As the holiday went on, Jim learned exactly how well matched they were.

  “So, with that tale out of the way, we three thought we'd provide you with an evening of entertainment, courtesy of the RMS players,” Meg said as they all sat around on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, drinking some of the wine and beer they'd picked up that morning at the Big Box Wholesale grocery.

  “Okay. I'll bite. What is RMS?”asked Jim.

  “Geez, Jim,” Sandy piped up. “Think about it. We are RMS. Remmy, Meg and Sandy.”

  “Oh,” Jim said as he gulped too big a swig of German beer, coughed and some of it dribbled out his nose. “Sorry. I missed that. Too distracted by so much female pulchritude, I guess.”

  “You want pulchritude, you got it. It's now two. We need a couple of hours to get ready, but we'll be back in here to meet you at five. How's that,” Sandy said, checking with Meg and Rem
my and getting nods from both. “Okay, that's great. And don't forget to fill out the question forms we gave you. We need to know your likes and dislikes.”

  Meg and Remmy nodded. Sandy giggled, knowing that she had already gotten all the information she needed when she and Meg talked on the phone weeks before. Then they got up and headed for the upstairs bathroom, no doubt to test the tricky hot tub that Sandy had been babbling to them about earlier. Jim watched a football game and dozed off.

  When he woke up, it was to raucous noise and laughter in the upstairs bathroom. It sounded like the three playmates were having a very good time in The Tub and Jim decided that rather than interrupt, he'd go out and make another quick trip to the Big Box, since the girls had forgotten a few items on his list. Apparently, there were plenty of cute chicks and ducklings shopping in the store when the girls arrived and this proved to be a considerable distraction, so they had not paid much attention to the list. He left a short note on the kitchen island and went out.

  HAD TO GO BACK TO BIG BOX FOR BOOZE.

  BACK IN AN HOUR. DON'T SCREW UP MY TUB!!!

  Meanwhile, the girls were taking maximum advantage of the tub's features. With Sandy doing the demos, all three just had to use the special drain bindings and when Meg or Remmy were secured on their backs, the other two ploughed the gorgeous new and exposed territory like pilgrims cultivating the new land. By five o'clock, everyone was exhausted and needed a nap. They retired to the multiple bedrooms and passed out. No one saw Jim's note and if they had, it wouldn't have made any difference anyway.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Crime

  Jim decided to get a take-up dinner so that no one was going to have to cook that evening, so he was late getting back as well. By the time he had put the meals in the kitchen and wandered around a bit, he finally called Sandy and heard the three padding about upstairs.

  “You guys want to eat?” he yelled up the stairs.

  “In a minute,” Meg called back.”We're getting ready.”