To Take Advantage Ch. 03: Of Two Sisters

Author's note: this story follows on from the earlier "To Take Advantage" stories. You might want to read them first!

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There was a quiet murmur of conversation in the restaurant, underscored by the light percussive tinkle of cutlery on crockery. The pervasive atmosphere was of people luxuriating in comfortable surroundings, elegant wine and fine dining, as if the room was permeated by an invisible fog of calm and relaxation. Which was just as well, as my heart was pumping nineteen to the dozen.

I took a slightly unsteady sip of the ice cold champagne, and reminded myself that I had to maintain the impression that I was in control of the situation. I couldn't allow my absence overseas for almost twelve months to change the dark influence I had over my companions. Hopefully the fact that both Jane and Anne were here said something about where we all stood, didn't it?

Bolstering the thin veneer of my control was the way the two women looked. Yes, I had directed down to the smallest detail what each of them was to wear, but even so they both looked a million dollars. Jane was wearing a long black halter top dress that showed the fine line of her shoulders, while Anne was in a turquoise silk blouse and gray skirt, the neckline of the blouse plunging just enough to hint at her full breasts. They looked every inch the sophisticated professional women that, outside of their lives with me, they really were. None of the other diners in the restaurant could have guessed that, for a few exquisite weeks, they had both submitted with increasing willingness to my most depraved wishes. Now it was time to take up the reins again.

"You can't imagine how often I thought about this evening," I said. "It's what kept me going."

"Was it really tough?" asked Jane. I noticed her sips of champagne were even more reckless than my own. Fair enough.

"Sometimes. Mostly boring, always hot, once or twice terrifying. But it was good to hear from you both, to keep in touch. That meant a lot." I didn't want to go down the returning war hero route; it wasn't accurate in any event, but it was also important that our relationship continued to be based on the same twisted bond that we had forged all those months ago.

"It was strange, knowing you were there," said Anne. "Strange, but interesting." I'd devised a series of codes, which allowed us to continue a form of our magnificent game while thousands of miles apart. It had been more than 'interesting' for me when an email had arrived from Jane saying she'd 'been to the theatre', meaning she'd gone into her work washrooms, locked herself in a cubicle, slid one vibe in her pussy and another in her ass, and masturbated herself to a powerful but presumably silent climax. Similarly Anne's message that she had 'been to the country' told me that she had brought herself off watching the video we had made of me ass-fucking her on all fours.

I topped up our champagne glasses. "Still, it's good to be back. And to show my appreciation, I've brought you a couple of presents." I placed two neatly gift-wrapped small boxes on the table. "Probably best not to open them here," I said hastily, as the sisters picked up the packages. "You should go to the washrooms and open them there. Adjoining cubicles," I added. "There are instructions in the boxes."

A wicked smile creased Jane's face, as she realised that the game was back on. Anne looked more conflicted, possibly disappointed that she wasn't being given something gold and expensive. I admired the rear view of the two sisters as they walked towards the restroom, once again appreciating how, for all their physical differences, they both had the same firm round asses.

Sitting on my own drinking champagne I could picture the two sisters' actions, just a few yards away rather than thousands of miles. Who first? Jane. She would lock the cubicle door, probably too nervous to talk to her younger sister, then unwrap the box, looking at the small plastic object before reading the typed note. Then she lifts the hem of that elegant black dress up her long legs, sliding it over the roundness of her no-longer virginal bum. Sitting on a restaurant toilet with her dress bunched untidily round her waist, wearing lacy panties, a garter belt and stockings, she takes out the little plastic toy, and pulls the crotch of her panties to one side. Then what? Not easy, I imagined, but then she probably pushes herself to the edge of the toilet seat, spreads her legs wide, reaches down with one hand to pull her ass cheeks apart, and rests the point of the butt plug against her asshole. Then, with no lubrication - I had forbidden it in my instructions - she pushes it against the tight resistance of her anus, gritting her teeth at the hard threat to her back passage, and then forces it into her ass.

It would be different for Anne, after the initial stages. She kneels on the toilet seat, as instructed, facing the wall. The gray skirt follows the same journey as Jane's dress over that round familial bum, and she kneels like a whore with her ass facing the toilet door, just the thin line of a red thong between her ass cheeks giving her any form of modesty. Then she pulls the thong out of her ass crack, and begins to poke the unlubricated beads, one by one, into her asshole.

My phone buzzed. It was Jane, greedy dirty Jane, the sensible woman who had discovered how much she enjoyed being a slut. She must have taken the picture on a timer, her phone on the floor, but it was a fabulous picture all the same, her slim body balanced on the edge of the toilet, her ass cheeks wide apart as she half-squatted, her little brown asshole filled by the lurid pink plug.

I was still appreciating the full obscenity of the image when my phone buzzed again. Anne. She had opted to hold the phone in her hand, bending low over the toilet while reaching behind, offering me a glorious visual panorama of her open white ass, the plunging valley of her crack, and the crater of her asshole with just the string of the beads poking out of it to show that she had filled her ass for me.

I could have looked at those pictures for a very long time, but there was more to come. I typed a simple message, and sent it to both sisters. "Swap. No cleaning." I imagined their thoughts as they read the words, wondered whether to obey, whether to cheat, whether they could rely on the other to keep quiet if they did.

Then, I imagined, Jane would reach under her ass, carefully easing the plug out of its warm little place, her asshole now disappointingly empty. Anne slowly tugs on the string, feeling each of the beads popping past the tightness of her anus, feeling similarly empty but also nervous about what was to fill the gap shortly. Jane would whisper "Are you ready?" Then they gingerly pass the sex toys under the cubicle wall, probably not even daring to look at the objects that have just been removed from their sister's ass.

Jane kneels on the toilet as her younger sister had done, holding the first bead in her fingers and trying not to think of the place it had been. Then she presses it against her asshole, and pushes the beads in, one by one, until her ass is filled with something that is still warm from being up her sister's backside.

Anne squats on the edge of the toilet and maybe even grimaces as she presses the plug against her anus, her mind racing that she could allow herself to be made to share something so filthily intimate with her elder sister. Then a small uncomfortable push has it inside her bum, the greasy walls of her passage wrapped tightly round it just moments after it had been held in the same way in her sister's asshole.

My phone buzzed again. This time Anne was first, her ass looking just as fabulous holding the plug as it had the beads. In Jane's photo she was holding her ass cheeks incredibly far apart, as if to prove to me as explicitly as possible that she had obeyed me to the letter.

"Good," I texted them. "Keep them in there, straighten yourselves up, and come back to the table."

It was several minutes before they reappeared, both doing a remarkable job of walking normally past the other diners. As they sat down I saw that both sisters had a faint sheen of perspiration on their faces.

"You've done well," I said. "I think it's rather wonderful that you've given each other something fresh from your assholes. Now I think it's time to finish the champagne. I've a suite booked upstairs, and the night is still very young."