Karma Is a Bitch for the Twins
Copyright© 2026 by Lustysnake
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Twins Karly and Kaden Smith are 19 years old and over the past few months, they have manipulated and sexually abused their older sister Eve with the help of Simon, a wealthy man who offered them a lot of money to take control of their sister. (For more information on this story, you can read “The Story of Eve's Transformation.”) Except that Simon betrayed them and sold them to a sinister organization that will use the twins, like many others, for the organization's benefit. karma is a Bitch.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa NonConsensual Oral Sex
Karly
When I regain consciousness, my head throbs and dizziness overwhelms me, but what strikes me most is the blindfold covering my eyes. I quickly realize I am naked, my hands bound behind my back, my legs tied tightly with ropes. I scream and thrash, desperate to break free, without success.
Above me, a strange voice, distorted like through a synthesizer, cuts the air:
There’s no point in screaming or struggling, Karly.
I scream even louder and struggle even harder until a sudden, searing pain explodes around my neck. The source of the pain is something around my neck.
The voice returns:
“If you continue to disobey, you will be punished again. Is that clear, Karly?”
The pain ebbs slowly, leaving me shaken, unwilling to endure it again. I nod. The voice presses:
“Speak, Karly. You have a tongue, and for now, you must use it only to speak. Understood?”
The words terrify me, and fear of the pain’s return grips me tighter. I answer at once: “Yes.”
“Very good, Karly. Are you a virgin?”
The Master
Karly Smith is nineteen, a specimen with blonde hair, voluptuous curves, and brown eyes.
I can’t wait to see the results she will produce, especially since her mother also has a twin sister.
The Master
On the fifth day of captivity, Karly’s behavior remains consistent and within expected parameters.
She seems to have realized that resistance is futile, that obedience is the only way she might ever leave the complex.
For now, she remains confined in a standard enclosure for new females.
Karly
After several days in this cell, I now know that this is not a nightmare, but my new reality.
I no longer panic; I have no choice but to accept my situation. That doesn’t mean I won’t take every opportunity to escape, but for now, I can do nothing but obey.
I am naked except for a choker collar. On the first day of my incarceration, I fought desperately to remove it, but it proved impossible. In fact, the collar itself compels obedience. Each time I defied the master, it delivered an electric shock so agonizing it left me writhing on the floor.
My hair, which once reached my shoulders, was completely shaved off, and obviously, my pubic hair was removed by electrolysis. I don’t really mind about the pubic hair, but I was proud of my beautiful blonde hair. I cried for a long time when I realized what they had done.
I am confined to a cell that is longer than it is wide, with a very high ceiling. The walls are made of gray metal panels, and the cell is divided into three distinct sections, marked not by walls but by the flooring.
In the center of the cell is the sleeping area. It has a comfortable mattress and two pillows, but no blanket. It feels strange to sleep like this without anything to cover me, but the room is warm without being uncomfortable, and after the first night I managed to rest almost normally. The floor here is dark brown vinyl, which, like the floors in the other sections, is always faintly warm to the touch.
Behind the bed is a red-tiled section with a toilet, shower, and cabinet containing toiletries. On the back wall, between the toilet and the shower, is a waste chute, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fit through it. The opening is simply too narrow for me to get inside. On the other side of the bed lies the third section, its floor the same metal as the walls.
This section is a lift; a mechanism my captor uses to deliver food and equipment.
This would also be a good way to try to escape when the lift comes back down, but the master always forces me to go and stay on the bed while the lift is running. I tried once to slip away from my captor that way, but the collar activated instantly, and I collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain from the electric shock.
I refer to my captor in the singular, but in truth, I don’t know if there is only one. The facility appears too well structured to be managed by a single individual, but I have never seen anyone and have only heard the master’s synthesized voice. It is entirely possible that several people are hiding behind that voice.
Kaden
When I woke up, I was in this strange cell, and except for some underwear, I was naked.
The master, or at least the one hiding behind a voice distorted by a synthesizer, said that I would remain in my cell until they had gotten what they want.
What are they trying to get, and who are they?
I don’t know. The master doesn’t answer questions.
At first, rage consumed me. I tried to smash the equipment in my cell, but all I achieved was bruising my fists.
Only the bed, which I ripped from its base, and the pillows, which I shredded, bore the marks of my fury.
It was useless. That damn dog collar punished me with a shock so brutal that it knocked me unconscious.
When I awoke, the bed and pillows had already been replaced, and I never tried to destroy anything again.
Now, aside from rest and meals, I pour all my fury into the gym equipment they deliver with the freight lift.
I’m going to do whatever it takes to get out of here as soon as possible. If that means doing what the master asks, I’ll do it.
Karly
I wake as the lights blaze on in the cell, accompanied by the master’s synthesized voice.
“Good morning, Karly. Perform your morning routine.”
I’ve been here for weeks, and the routine is etched into me: I have to go to the bathroom to relieve myself, then brush my teeth before going back to bed.
Once I return, the lift hums to life and the meal table rises, but I know I mustn’t approach it until I’ve been given permission. I’m hungry, and luckily, the master’s voice is heard again.
“Go eat, Karly. You have a busy day ahead.”
That catches my attention. It’s the first time he’s said that. Usually, my days follow the same routine. It looks like this:
I wake up, take care of my personal hygiene, and eat my morning meal. Then comes exercise on the elliptical machine, followed by stretching and relaxation. Lunch is next, before walking and running on the treadmill. Dinner arrives, and afterward I exercise again on the stationary bike. Finally, I shower, take care of myself, and sleep.
The exercises are always accompanied by music coming from the ceiling speakers, changing from time to time. It is the only variety in my days.
The food is surprisingly good, far from fast food. I’m no nutritionist, but it seems carefully chosen for health.
All the tableware is metal, and there are no utensils. I eat with my fingers or sip soup directly from the bowl.
One thing is undeniable: I have never been healthier. The small amount of excess fat I carried is vanishing.
I was nearly finished with my plate when the master’s voice echoed once more:
“Karly, return to your bed and wait for instructions.”
In the end, the day unfolded exactly as usual. I had just showered, brushed my teeth, and now lay on my bed, waiting for the lights to go out so I could sleep.
But then, the elevator roared to life again, carrying a strange structure onto the platform. The master’s voice echoed through the cell:
“Karly, get up and move to the module. Slide your body into it.”
I approach the module. It looks like a gynecological chair, but heavier, fused into a massive metal box. The only way in is to sit down and slide into it, letting the lower half of my body vanish inside.
A curtain of opaque plastic slats covers the opening, hiding whatever lies beyond. This means that the upper part of my body will remain free, while the lower part will be isolated behind the barrier.
Nervous and uneasy, I move quickly. Better than risking the collar’s punishment. It’s easier than I expected. My legs dangle slightly on the other side, but the position is tolerable for now. Then the master’s voice cuts through:
“Karly, don’t move.”
The next moment, rubber-and-metal manacles emerge from the machine and clamp tightly around my wrists. Fear surges through me. Why immobilize me when the collar already enforces obedience?
Elevator music plays softly from the ceiling.
Suddenly, the structure moves toward the back wall and locks into place against it. Then I feel a draft against my lower body.
Is this when I’m going to be raped?
Because I must admit that from the moment I found myself in this cell, I feared that it was going to happen and that I would become a sex object. For a moment, I even thought I was in some kind of particularly grim brothel.
But since then, I haven’t experienced anything sexual, except for being constantly nude and watched by the master.
Except that this time, I don’t really see why they would put me in this position, unless it’s to rape me.
The next moment, I receive confirmation in the form of hands manipulating my legs to place them in a kind of stirrup. Then my ankles are secured with the same kind of restraints as for my wrists.
I could scream and try to struggle, but what’s the point? I am under the master’s control, and any attempt to resist could trigger the collar to send electric shocks through me.
Then comes a vibration, and my legs are spread apart until the position is almost uncomfortable. Not really, but almost. The chair reclines, raising my lower body. I can only imagine what I look like: A yougn woman’s lower body, legs spread apart and sex clearly visible. Even more so with the absence of pubic hair!
I feel no arousal, only fear of what might happen next. Especially without lubrication.
As if they could read my mind, a drop of thick viscous liquid liquid is placed on my labia and a hand begins to spread it over my genitals before inserting a finger into my vagina.
A few moments later, a penis enters my vagina and begins to move back and forth inside me. Except that I quickly realize that it’s not a penis fucking me, but a good-sized dildo.
Furthermore, I don’t think it’s a human being performing this movement.
The dildo that sinks deep inside me, then withdraws almost completely before plunging back in again, it’s always the same rhythm the same dept. It’s too precise, too mechanical, leaving no doubt that it is a machine at work that is fucking me.
It’s rape, there’s no way I’m going to react, no way I’m going to enjoy this machine.
At least, that’s what I firmly believe during the first few minutes, but it seems that my body, and especially my sex, has other ideas.
After a few minutes, I’m getting more and more excited and I can’t help moaning under the dildo’s assaults.
In fact, if I could caress my breasts or my clitoris, I would probably come very quickly.
A little later, I realize that I’m going to come very soon and I no longer care that I didn’t want this, that it’s being forced on me, I want to come.
The dildo moves faster, and a few moments later, I come.
A violent orgasm leaves me drained of all my energy.
After a moment, I hear the master’s voice:
“Karly, it’s now time to return to bed and rest.”
I then realize that the dildo is no longer in my vagina, that the handcuffs have been removed, and that I can now get out of the machine.
It takes me longer to climb out of the machine than to slip inside, and if it weren’t for the master’s orders, I would have lingered there, despite it being less comfortable than the bed in my cell.
The Master
Karly continues to follow instructions smoothly, far better than I had anticipated. I believe she will remain a model subject. Proof of this is her almost immediate acceptance of the stimulation device, a promising sign for the next steps.
Karly
It’s been several days since the first time I used the machine, and using the sex machine the master calls “the module” has become a permanent part of my routine.
I would never admit it aloud, not even under torture, but I cannot deny the pleasure this machine brings me, especially since I have almost completely stopped masturbating.
From the very first night, I understood that the master could see in the dark. I had tried to wander around looking for a way to escape, only to be ordered back to bed.
With that knowledge, masturbation became nearly impossible, and I resisted the urge most of the time. Still, I sometimes dream of the orgasms Eve’s tongue gave me, waking with my hand pressed against my clitoris. Beyond those rare moments, I avoided masturbation.
Now, with the machine, I can surrender to the pleasure without feeling judged. It is not my choice to enter the module, but the master’s.