Once again, as so often happens, the deep sleep claimed Mira and her guardians became visible to each other. There was a soft, shameful silence in their furtive glances at one another. Avoiding eye contact and just taking occasional peaks over their shoulder when they thought the other wasn’t watching. The reason, of course, was obvious. They both looked very different.
Devil’s shift in clothing was stark and embarrassing. Naked, void of any clothing that would cover her shame, adorned instead with belts. They lacked the ephemeral, hazy quality of the prior night, they were heavy. Solid. Stiff black leather straps that circled her wrists and upper arms, just above the elbow. Her ankles were similarly adorned with matching straps above her knees. A thick leather harness circled her body, a wide belt at her waist that pulled tight, giving an hourglass shape, a pair of straps between her legs, either side of her pussy, that accentuated her mound. The most comfortable standing position was with her legs shoulder width apart, and she hated that every time she pressed her thighs together, her body would eventually prefer to spread them again. Straps wound up her body too, below and above the breasts and then over her shoulders. Fittingly, the pattern made a pentagram shape when admired as a whole. Her usual closed toe leather boots had been reduced to strappy, delicate high heels and her gloves were reduced to yet more straps that made it uncomfortable to close her fist. Empty, unused chains and straps hung from her horns. The blindfold wasn’t present, but the buckles were happily waiting for it to be attached. All the straps and bands were adorned and held together with gold. Golden rings, golden buckles, golden anchor points. Black and gold, stark against her red flesh.
Devil’s wings, however, were the most impressive part of her new look. They were no smaller than they had been, but now showed off gorgeous golden piercings that looked fierce and prominent against the black leathery flesh. All along the stiff, boney frame of her wings were heavy golden rings. They looked thick, and ornamental with little trinkets hanging off them. Chains too adorned the wings and criss crossed them golden filigree linking each ring to another. It looked beautiful, immaculate and meticulous in how it all linked together. Devil, however, was unimpressed. Uncomfortable. Her face burned with the shame of what her new accessories did to her, how much they reduced her down.
Her wings were bound. The chains held the spines together. Minimised unfolding. A single harnessed pattern of chains bound the pointed tops of her wings together, preventing them from parting. Her literal flesh, bolted and chained, prevented her wings from spreading. Flapping. Extending. They could not even curl around to cover her nudity.
The Angel, though equally embarrassed, was not similarly adorned. Her conservative white gown and modest leather accessories had also evolved. The inky black corruption that had only coated her arms the previous night, now tainted every part of her body and clothing. Her modest and simple white gown had evolved. It was a luxurious, leathery black, it clung to every curve of her body and offered tantalising visions of her pale white flesh through slits up the side. It was risque, but dignifiedand held itself in place without straps. Her gloves were still in place, now a soft and shiny satin that fit so closely to her it might as well be a second skin. Her heels were jet black too, hugging her feet and calves closely. Contrary to the Devils cheap, street walking heels, hers were steady and firm. Glamorous without compromising on comfort. Her pale blonde hair was untainted, but her halo had delicately “fallen” into place on her head, looking like a Tiara…a shining onyx crown upon her head. Black gemstone that only barely glowed. When Angel looked at herself, she felt gaudy, ostentatious and overdressed. Her eyes searched the room for anywhere to look that wasn’t her shameful over presentation or Devils embarrassingly suggestive outfit. She was mostly successful, her strength of will and purity of heart. Devil was far less successful. She hated her own appearance, perfectly happy to ignore that, but her eyes lingered on Angel. The divinity was obvious in her appearance. Everything soft and white and delicate underneath, Like a perfect, untouched doll. Outside, however, the leather and the shine, the golden glow of her crown, the stern pointed shoes; everything was impossible to resist. Her body was undeniably curvier, fuller and it was perfection incarnate. Devil was supposed to recognise a good time, she existed to experience and pursue lust and Angel was everything that made her mouth water.
As time passed, the unspoken reality of the situation began to sink in. Their period of time to overlap, to communicate, was always so fleeting. Tonight, more so than ever, given recent experience. Devil gave voice to her concerns first.
“It’s been, what, three days?”
“Yes, three sleeps.”
“Where were you?”
“We didn’t sleep, D, I’ve been right here, same as you waiting for deep sleep. We didn’t get there.”
There was a heavy pause, a weight in the air that neither of them could ignore. They had been waiting, of course, but whether it was to “fix” things or just to see each other and be together, Like they had been before….. Neither would admit which motivation was stronger, but Angel eventually broke the silence.
“It’s the music She plays while we sleep. It keeps us from sleeping too deeply.”
Devil nodded, glancing across the room at the small speaker on the side table. “We go straight to dreaming. Toss, turn, sleep and then immediately dream....”
Angel swallowed, speaking up to finish the sentence Devil left hanging. “...of Her.”
Devil caught angels eye for a moment, an unspoken message that she did not choose to give voice to. Angel continued, “You know, I listened to it up close last night, I sat right next to it and leaned against it as I listened.”
Devil frowned, opening her mouth to speak, before Angel shushed her firmly. “There are words under the music, D, I heard them. I’ll show you. Come.”
She took flight, her wings spreading wide, far broader than they had been before, only a few firm wingbeats were all she needed to ascend before simply gliding across the room. Her hand reflexively stretched out towards the devil girl, closing around thin air and tugging. Devil could not fly, her wings were chained, but a pull at her throat dragged her across the bed, toes dragging on the fabric as she stumbled to gain any footing at all. It wasn’t necessary, as Angel crossed over the speaker Devil was dragged by the throat to her side. There was no chain, no strap, no leash to speak of. She simply moved, her entire mind and body simply appeasing the whims of her companion. Her brows creased, and she felt her stomach turn. That thought
It didn’t sit correctly in her mind. It wasn’t the right word. She was wrong for thinking of Angel like that. She squirmed as other, more suitable words came to mind, uninvited.
Angel surveyed the room as she flew, unbothered by the way Devil hung from her hand a few inches behind her. It was so simple. A single bed, low to the ground. No cupboards, no chests or boxes. Little more than a mattress and a side table in the far corner. The door was heavy and imposing, the keyhole for a comically large lock visible just above the knob. Her room was on the other side. This was probably a walk-in wardrobe, by design. The sturdy steel rods and very high shelves that spanned the length of the room give it away.
The chains and cuffs that hung from the rods were likely later additions.
Angel touched down on the side table gracefully, Devil attempted to match the landing with equal grace, but her feet stumbled on the wood. Her ankle cuffs caught on one another and she tripped forwards, skidding on her knees and catching herself on her hands. She hissed in pain and growled a few choice words under her breath. Angel gasped, turning around to scold her “Watch your langua-”
She was cut short, losing herself in staring at the devil girl. Wings and body bound, on her hands and knees, wincing as she looked up from all the way down there. Angel’s breath caught in her throat and her teeth bit down around her lip. She looked good like that. As Devil started to rear back, lifting herself up into a kneeling position Angel couldn’t help but speak up, her voice urgent…desperate, but not lacking in conviction.
“Stay like that!”
Devil froze, looking up at Angel with a glare. Her eyes were filled with outrage and disbelief. She didn’t move, staying kneeled on the wood of the table, but she did speak. “Excuse me?”
Angel’s heart fluttered. That look in her eyes, the quiver in her voice, the way her body just…obeyed. Devil could no more control herself than Angel could stop the words pouring from her mouth.
“You look so good. You’re gorgeous and cute and…oh my gosh…you’re…just so…”
She stepped close, squatting in front of Devil, her dress stretching around one knee and the other emerging from the slit at the side. Her hand cupped Devil’s cheek “Just please, stay there, D. Come on, you know me, you trust me, right? We’ve been doing this for twenty years! I know what’s best.”
Devil’s jaw dropped open in shock, her thoughts and feelings unable to keep up. Angel was still taller than her, even squatting. Her wings were so broad, they blocked everything out. Devil could only stare. The flawless inner thigh emerging from the dress, Angel’s smile, her innocence, the graceful, delicate touch, the way she used too many words, spoke too much. It was all so…She was still Angel. She was still her sister. She was so different and yet…the same…It was too much. Devil could only nod, swallowing heavily.
Angel nodded curtly, her face split with a giddy smile. “Good girl, D”
She turned to the speaker, right by them, the soothing music was so much louder, so much clearer up close. It was…foreign. It had so many half notes, tones that sat in between western notes. It wound up and down though so many different flavours of sound. It was so deeply relaxing, like listening to wind chimes or the flow of fingers up and down a harp. No sound ever made itself apparent among its brethren, no shift in volume was ever out of place or unwelcome. Beneath it all, the song wove the softest whisper of words. Barely audible and even harder to understand, but undeniably present. Both guardians just…listened for a moment. The second their conversation stopped the music took over and they simply lost themselves in the sound.
When Devil finally spoke, her tone was even, steady, soothed. She sounded tranquilised, as if her usual impulsive, fiery personality was simply silent for the moment. “Why, Angel? Why are we sleeping here next to the music box?”
Angel smiled down, her face was similarly peaceful, blissed out and hazy. Her eyes were half lidded as she cupped Devil’s face. She pulled the bound and submissive girl against her chest and responded. Her voice held that same, Choral layering as always, but the echoing voices beneath her own weren’t glorious…they were whispers. Reinforcing the answer Angel gave.
“We’ve been here for days, D.
She called us, we came, and we enjoyed Her.
She enjoyed us.
She tells us what to do, how to behave, what to be.
She is guiding us.
There is nothing for us at home.
Nothing for us at the university.
I can see that.
So I helped us decide to stay here.
We have our own room.
We are comfortable.
She feeds us and she trains us.
She is our future, Devil.”
The Devil nodded, nuzzling against Angel’s breasts, her body was blissfully and completely enthralled by the music, the voices, the guardian who knows best. Who understands what is best in the long term. Devil’s mind rallied, struggling against the miasma of control that enveloped her. Her voice was slurred…weak
“Tha’s wrong… We’re in danger Annnnn…frenns…fam-ly… schooool… work…we can’t stay here…we havta go…”
Angel’s heavenly voice wove around Devil with a motherly, gently scolding tone. “Hush sh sh sh sh sh nooo, sweetie, no.
You’re the devil on her shoulder, sweet.
You’re making this decision without thinking.
Without anticipating the consequences.
Without my approval.
You need my approval, Dear.
You need my permission.
Every choice you make is foolish.
I know what is best for us.
I am always right.
I know what is best.
Devil deflated, sighing. Her resistance was crumbling. Angel had always been like this. She had always known what was best. She had always insisted that she knew the best choice. Devil had fought so hard to be heard. To avoid being ignored. To be in charge like she was when they were little. But they were grown up now. They were adults. They were mature. Angel knew what was best. Devil only had to obey. Devil would obey.
Angel purred, a warm, rich sound. Like melted chocolate that poured into her sister’s ear. “Good girl. Very good girl.”
Their bodies shifted. They slumped back against the speaker, leaning on it, using it for a hard, steady surface. Angel reclined back, relaxing into place, one hand dragging the invisible leash. Devil followed along, obedient and lost, her mind empty save for the directions of Angel. The one in charge. The boss. The one who knew. Her owner. She knelt over Angel, curled forwards. Her wings quivered, the golden chains rattling as she trembled in place. Angel dragged her face down, nestling her sister in the crook of her shoulder, the submissive, obedient girl’s ear right by her lips. She nibbled it gentle, before returning to her steady, gentle, constant stream of words. Reminding devil who she was. Her purpose. Why she exists. To obey. A tight grip on the leash kept her still, unable to escape.
Angel had a spare hand. Free to roam...to search, and she found the exposed, open, dripping pussy of her sister. It was in the open air, throbbing over Angel’s lap, twitching in time with the squirming of Devil’s tail. Angel had learned so well the last few days. Listened so carefully while She spoke. Absorbed every lesson that Mira had been taught.
Pleasure is good.
She thrust two fingers deep into the devil’s pussy.
You exist to give pleasure.
She began pumping, thrusting three fingers in and out, over and over. Devil moaned in ecstasy.
Good girls don’t cum.
Her fingers stayed steady. Firm. Consistent. Never fast enough to cum, never slow enough to be ignored.
Good girls edge, listen and obey.
Angel smiled warmly. Mira was learning and so was she. Devil’s absence during the day didn’t matter. Mistress made all the decisions for them. Mistress knew what they needed moment to moment. There was no need for someone else to do that job. Especially not a panicky, selfish, anxious little devil. D would only panic. D would try to escape. D would want to go home. To take a break. Angel’s fingers twisted, finding the most sensitive mound of nerves she could, pressuring it, pounding it, over and over, driving D towards that edge.
Angel obeyed Mistress. Angel knew that they had to stay. To keep learning. Keep listening. Mira would learn from Mistress. Angel would learn from Mira. Angel would teach Devil to obey. To ignore those harmful impulses and dreams of escape.
She moaned softly. It felt so good to obey. It felt so good to make the devil obey. Obedience is pleasure. D moaned too, groaning and drooling into Angel’s shoulder. Hips desperately thrusting against the offered fingers, riding that hand. Listening to every word that Angel said, every lesson, every moment of teaching.
Mira began to dream. How could she not? With the music playing, and the guardians that keep her safe repeating the lessons of the day so lewdly, her mind began to surface. Waking and starting to dream.
Angle winked a single eye open, noticing her charge was moaning in her sleep. She glanced at Devil and shifted, quickly getting to work. Devil wailed as the fingers were withdrawn and the voices stopped, but she did not struggle..she did not move without being moved. The Angel slipped out from under her, leaving the devil on all fours. She grasped the cuffs at the ankles and dragged them together, the golden rings interlinking as soon as they touched. She gave a quick shove and D collapsed to her side. Angel attached the thigh cuffs, again, a magical click and they sealed together. She wove her fingers in and around leathery bound wings, and dragged the wrist cuffs back behind Devil’s back. They clicked together. Elbow cuffs followed suit, the devil moaning loudly as her back was wrenched into place.
Angel moaned under her breath. The act of bondage, the intensity of the restraints, the sound that D was making. It was intoxicating. She had to finish before Mira dreamed in earnest. Devil had to be made ready before they stopped being visible to each other.
The wrist cuffs anchored to the heavy waist belt. The ankles were pulled and bent back, anchored to the wrists and belt in kind. Angel rolled the devil onto her belly and straddled her, she grasped the girl by the horns and dragged her head back, the loose straps bending back to find and grasp the elbow cuffs, keeping Devils’ head firmly anchored in place.
Angel only had to press her hands over Devil’s eyes, and the blindfold materialised, eagerly, ready to be worn. It wrapped around the girl’s head, and anchored to the horns as part of an elaborate harness. The Devil moaned, her mouth wide open, panting and drooling, her words staggered and desperate.
Angel simply dragged her fingers across the head harness, straps materialising beneath her touch, a heavy bright red ball gag slipping into place in Devil’s mouth, strapping her into silence. Locked in place as if it had always been. The devil moaned and her body shuddered.
Angel rolled off the Devil, her work finished, collapsing to the floor and desperately tossing her dress aside. The strategic slit in the side was perfectly placed for her to thrust her fingers against her own cunt. She had been good. She did her job. She made Devil obey.
Mira began to dream. They vanished from each other's sight. Devil disappeared into nothingness. Completely alone and helplessly bound, she would rest there, against the speaker, for an untold time. There were no clasps, no latches, no buckles. Rings that simply interlace would come undone for no one. For nothing. Devil would not be freed, she would lie and wait… listening to the music of her Mistress.
Angel flapped over to Mira, lying with her on the luxurious pillow, desperately rubbing her cunt without pause, splaying out her legs and closing her eyes. Mira dreamed only of Mistress; Angel, her work complete, lay back and enjoyed watching their dreams. Edging in anticipation of the day’s hypnotic lessons in pleasure, service and slavery.