Nathan Silvers - Tortured sisters

"Are you ready?" asked Sammy.

"I think so," said Amanda, turning, making sure her short dress fit just right. "Do I look okay?"

"You sure do," said her sister, "now let's get out of here."

"Just a minute," said Amanda, and she rearranged her neckline to show the swelling curves of her tits. "Fuck, I get nervous even now."

Sammy laughed and gave herself a final check in the full-length mirror.

There was no real need for either of them to worry. They were probably the most devastating pair of blondes in the city, and they knew it. It was Friday night and they were going out to the bars to pick up some unsuspecting man.

The trap would be set almost the same way each time. The two of them would cruise the bars, waiting until they spotted the man they wanted. Then they would make sure they met him. All the man knew was that suddenly two stunning women were talking to him, paying him a lot of attention, and his head would start to spin.

As the two girls laughed and chatted, pulling the information they wanted out of the unsuspecting man, he would take in their high thrusting tits, the shapely curves of their asses, and wonder if he was really being propositioned by two such beautiful sisters.

That depended on his answers. Usually the girls avoided a man who lived in their neighborhood or anywhere near it. The perfect man was some wimp from out of town, on vacation and looking for a good time. There was an almost endless supply of them.

The man would wonder how much better his luck would get when they asked him if he was interested in a threesome. Some of the wimps even shot in their pants when Sammy suggested that. Certainly none of them had ever turned such an offer down. In the taxi, half-drunk, the wimp would find himself in a game, blindfolded as a joke and led up the stairs into the sisters' apartment. Giggling and urging him on, they would lead him down a set of stairs and then all he knew was a blow on the head and darkness.

When he woke up, he would be naked, lashed to the bars of a cage, manacled and staring at the worst horror of his life. Gone were the soft girls in their short skirts and tight blouses. In their place were two of the most dreadful dominatrix's he had ever seen. In their leather and tight boots, they would put him through a weekend of torture, humiliating him at every turn, chaining him to the floor and whipping him as he helplessly tried to jerk off to please his terrible mistresses. As his cum finally jerked out on the stone floor, they would laugh and beat him harder and then make him lick it up.

Sammy would never let a man touch her, except for allowing him to lick her ass when she was particularly aroused. Amanda liked to be licked; she often lay back while the wimps sucked her hot pussy and Sammy lashed them with rising fury. But that was all. No man would ever stick his cock into their soft cunts or tight little assholes, and certainly never between their soft pouting lips.

There had been a mistake once, and that perhaps explained Amanda's nervousness. One of the men wouldn't give in. He swore and yelled, at them, whatever they did, and he somehow escaped the first night when they thought they had him safely chained up.

That had been a real panic. Normally when they were finished with their wimps, they would re-blindfold them, drive them to some dark alley and dump them out. The wimps didn't know where they had been, and most of them were so ashamed of being beaten up by women that they just crawled off and said nothing. Certainly, none of them had ever been to the police, and so the girls were free to find their next victim. But a disaster like that could have blown everything.

But nothing happened. No police came, and in another two weeks they were back in business, their wimps screaming for mercy as loudly as ever. They had even become bolder, getting men who were stronger, and still imposing their will on them. So far, apart from the one man, they had never failed. And this weekend another disgusting male would get his just desserts.

They hit their favorite bar first. It was a typical singles bar. Soft lighting, a group playing, dancing, and fast bartenders. Sammy and Amanda hung around the bar, well aware that most of the men around were looking at them very carefully. Several times, a pair of men approached, but Sammy sent them off very fast. They weren't what they were looking for.

They left and tried another bar. They saw him I once. He was tall, he wore glasses and looked as if he'd just got off the bus from some small town upstate. He grinned around nervously and almost swallowed his drink, glass and all, when Sammy and Amanda smiled at him. The closer they got, the more flustered he got. He was perfect.

"Hi," said Sammy, flicking her short skirt until he got a glimpse of her stocking tops and tap pants underneath. She sat beside him, crossing her long, shapely legs while he stared and gasped at the two of them.

"Er – hi!" he said, grinning nervously; "Er – can I get you a drink?"

"Ohhh, thanks," said Amanda, sliding in on his other side with practiced skill. "Gin and tonic, please."

Frantically he waved at a cocktail waitress. "And you?" he asked, almost dropping his beer in his excitement.

"Vodka gimlet," said Sammy, and leaned in a little closer to him so that he could get a good view of her tits.

"Er – yes," he babbled and gave the order. "You from around here?" Amanda asked, playing with the top button of her short black dress.

"No, I'm just in for the weekend," he said, staring at her tits.

Sammy chuckled to herself. It couldn't be going better.

"I suppose you're looking for a good time," she teased, sliding up to him and crossing her legs slowly, letting her skirt slide up, almost as far as her stocking tops. "I mean, most men from out of town are."

He gulped, taking a drink of his beer to cover up his nervousness. "I-I was told this was a good place to meet people."

"You mean to pick up girls?" said Sammy, sliding her hand up his arm and giggling.

Normally they would take a little more time over this, draw the man in slowly so as not to make him suspicious, but this one was so easy there was no point in hanging around.

"Er – well…" the man spluttered, taking a drink and spilling some of the beer down his chin.

Sammy looked at him in disgust. He was a particularly nasty specimen of a man, and he was going to pay for that. All weekend.

"Oh, my name is Sammy," she said, covering the man's confusion as he dabbed his handkerchief over his chin. "This is my sister, Amanda."

"Oh, hi," he said. "My name's Jack. Jack Michaels."

"You want to come and play a bit?" Sammy asked, grinning at him.

"You-you mean – you and your – sister?" He stared at the two of them.

"Yes, me and my sister," said Sammy seductively. "We like to share a man sometimes. A real man like you."

"B-But…" the man stammered. His face was flushed and his whole body quivered.

"You must be from upstate," said Amanda, laughing. "This is New York, baby, it's different."

"By God, it is!" the man gasped. "You mean that the two of you want to… with me?"

"Do we have to spell it out?" said Sammy, letting a note of annoyance creep into her voice. That usually did it. None of the men wanted to see the chance slip by.

"W-Well yes, yes!" the man said quickly. "That sounds wonderful!"

"It's not just wonderful," said Amanda, leaning in and taking him by his hopelessly out of style tie, "It's the best. We're the best."

"Oh. Yes. Yes," the man said. "W-Well, yes," he added lamely and tried to drink his beer, but he wasn't concentrating and again, some of it went down the front of his polyester sports jacket.