#240) Being the Other Twin

Once upon a time there were two twin sisters in a family in Cleveland. The twins were identical, but that only concerned their appearance. The girls couldn’t have been more dissimilar in their personalities.
Margaret was a troublemaker, both in school and at home. Maggie’s mother couldn’t count the number of times she’d had to spank the girl with a wooden spoon. If there was an opportunity to get into mischief, Maggie would find it, and then lie about it. When the frequent spankings seemed to become less effective, when Maggie went to middle school, Maggie’s father took a hand in her discipline, and introduced the girl’s backside to his belt, and then to the cane when Maggie went to high school. It wasn’t unusual for Maggie to have to stand leaning against the fireplace mantle with her panties around her ankles to receive twenty hard cane stripes on any Saturday evening. Indeed, it was unusual if Maggie didn’t get a hard caning on a weekly basis.
Deborah was just the opposite. She was human, she’d make mistakes. But she was always remorseful for them, expressing an interest in learning from her errors. Consequently, Deb was reprimanded verbally on occasion, but never once treated to corporal punishment. Growing up, Maggie called Deb “the goodie-goodie” and Deb called her twin “the hellion.” Both nicknames stuck.
What no one knew, not even the hellion, was that goodie-goodie Deb wasn’t as pure as the driven snow. She had a serious kink in her nature. Every Saturday night, when Maggie would limp into their shared bedroom, Deb would pretend to be fast asleep in her upper bunk bed, but was listening intently, sometimes even able to observe. Maggie would rub cold cream into her bruised and welted bottom, and then to take her mind off the pain, masturbate herself to sleep. That’s when Deb’s fingers would get busy, fantasizing that her porcelain white bottom was ruddy with strap strokes and striped by her father’s rattan cane. She dreamed that her loving husband would punish Deb harshly before making love with her.
It was a foregone conclusion that Maggie wouldn’t go to college. Her grades were dreadful. She’s be lucky to get a minimum wage job in a fast food establishment. But everyone assumed that excellent and diligent student Deb would matriculate at an establishment of higher learning. Deb’s parents hoped that the articulate girl would become a lawyer. But just when it was about time to start visiting schools to decide which ones she’d apply to during her junior year, Deb announced that she was taking a work-study course to become an airlines flight attendant. She came home from school with a smart uniform with gold trim, sat down at the dinner table in it, and made her big announcement about her future plans.
“Oh no you’re not!” her father responded at high decibels.
“Oh yes I am!” Deb returned just as energetically, “it’s my life and I’ll do what I want!”
Dinner got cold that evening.
“Stand up and go to the mantle,” her father instructed for the first time to Deborah. Deb had seen Maggie caned on more than one occasion after a dinner table argument, she knew the drill. She stood and marched over to the dining room fireplace. Of her own volition, Deb unzipped her blue skirt and let it drop to her ankles, followed by the high schoolers underwear. She resolved in her mind that her father could beat her buttocks, but he couldn’t change her mind. She stuck her bared butt out and leaned her forehead on her hands on the marble mantlepiece.
Whhhttt! The cane cut through the air menacingly.
Whhhpt! The rod bit into the tender pale flesh of Deb’s bottom. The orbs contorted under the impact and the recipient involuntarily yelped. But Deb recovered herself quickly, absorbed the pain, resumed her posture and stuck her bared butt out once again. Their mother started to sob at the sight of a vivid red welt blazing from her little angel’s poor ass cheeks. Their father thought the novice would wail from the pain of that one stripe, recant, and beg forgiveness. When Deb didn’t, her daddy resolved to redouble his efforts with this next lash. Maggie rested her chin n her hands and drank in the beauty of the tableau; Deb was getting her butt beaten for a change! But the most mental gymnastics were performed by Deb herself. That cane stripe had hurt terribly! But it wasn’t as bad as anticipated. In the years to come, she’d be able to take whatever her prospective husband cared to dish out across her innocent rump. From the conditioning she’d experienced on Saturday nights, Deb found the cane’s pain kind of sexy…
Whhhttt, Whhhpt! A second stripe burned its way into Debs tushy and into her consciousness. It hurt much more, whether due to the cumulative pain or from the fact that this lash contained all the force her father could muster, Deb didn’t know. Tears leapt to her sparkling baby blue eyes, but a smile creased Deb’s pretty features, as well. It hurt like hell; it was sexy as fuck! She danced a brief jig, then reasserted control, and stuck her wounded backside out for more.
Twenty times Deb’s daddy flashed the rod across her bottom. By the fourth stripe, Deb was crying profusely, after the eighth, she was involuntarily moaning. By the tenth lash, the poor girl’s buttocks seemed as though they were on fire, and Deb knew that she wouldn’t be able to sit in tomorrow’s classes, or comfortably for the foreseeable future. By the twentieth stripe, there was no room left on the two fulsome cheeks. Deb still stuck her bottom out for more; a smile still trembled on her lips. Her father put the cane away.
“Go to your room, Deborah,” he instructed.
“May I be excused from the table?” Maggie asked, showing uncommon manners
Behind their closed bedroom door, Maggie inspected the damage across her twin’s bum.
“Want me to rub some cold cream on the stripes? It really seems to help…”
Deb nodded, flinching and whimpering as Maggie did so, and when she was done, Deb said, “I need to lie down…”
“I’ll leave you alone,” Maggie replied. “You know, you now hold the record for taking the hardest whipping in this household! I’m impressed!”
As soon as Maggie had closed the door behind her, Deb rubbed some cold cream into her wet folds of her simmering- at-a-low-boil, hot pussy. She closed her eyes and imagined her husband taking her in his arms, taking her sexually, fucking her just as hard as he’d flailed her.
Maybe he’ll be an airlines pilot, so our schedules will synch-up, Deb fantasized about her imaginary husband, or maybe he’ll be a doctor and wait eagerly for me to fly back to him. Regardless of what he does, he’ll have a strong right arm and be able to whip me harder than my old man. Deb found herself smiling as she approached orgasm, as turned-on as she’d ever been in her life.

A good example of Maggie’s mischievousness. “Why would you flash your tits at a track meet?” her mother asked, as she took her daughter to task with a wooden spoon. That night, her father also got involved in Maggie’s discipline, using a cane on her impertinent (but so pert) bottom, when he got home from work. “She’s incorrigible!” was all he could say after giving the high schooler not six stripes, not twelve, but twenty two strokes to try to get the girl to apologize.

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