Canaries and cages

By the time the first course was over… and another full glass of ruby liquid had somehow appeared to replace the first. Jesse was feeling a spreading warmth running up and down the back of her neck, as if the sun was still caressing her there and encouraging her every word and action. Miranda’s hand had been crawling across the sissy’s thigh for almost the entire meal, tickling and teasing the bulge in her shorts with ever-straying digits. But no longer felt any great embarrassment or anxiety about that. If anyone around had noticed… well the label and uniform she was wearing hardly hinted anything else.

Suddenly, Jesse felt like she could shake loose a little, of the endless chains of self-doubt which had always constrained and gagged her. There was no-one here who knew her. No-one could think any less of her than of the scantily-clad image with 'Slut' scrawled upon it which they were already faced with. While John and Miranda were so kind and encouraging and openly smitten. Completely absorbed by their evening’s acquisition and uninterested by anyone else that came and went around them. The normally too-shy-to-ask teen found herself quizzing them on their lives and thoughts. Wondering if they could possibly live like this every day?

“Oh, we’re not very exciting Darling…” Stated Miranda, scooping up a fingertip of cream from her dessert and leaving a spot of it, laughingly, on the tip of Jesse’s nose. “John’s father and mine are brothers with interests overseas, but we’re the first born of each of them so have to stay here as ‘Heirs to the company holdings’. Basically we’re just paperweights on an insurance policy, in case something terrible happens to either of them…”

John simply nodded shruggingly at this. For the entire afternoon he had let the woman who turned out to be his cousin do most of the vocalising.

“So we grew up together… while one or the other of them took turns running things over here, before returning to the harem of our mothers and siblings they keep over there…”

Miranda’s voice took on that conspiratorially-loud whisper again as she revealed:

“Seems like both of them had a real habit of knocking-up whichever nannies or serving staff were left to look after them when they were young… So we don’t even really know which of them are our actual mothers! They’re all just still paid wages to live out there on holiday and occasionally have another baby when required. We think dear Dad and Uncle Benji just have a thing for the big, round bellies… Once we’ve popped out, they don’t really know what to do with us.”

She reached out a hand for John to squeeze, the pair of them sharing a meaningful look. It was clear there was a lot more pain and turmoil in that admission than either would state out loud. Things that had pushed them together into such an overtly-close relationship.

“So me and John grew up together in a big, empty house… with people who were paid to look after us who kept disappearing and one grumpy old parent or another we barely saw... Until we were old enough to go out and start exploring the world on our own. Our only purpose, really, is to exist. So we started collecting pretty things and spoiling them rotten. Seems as good a use of our wealth as any…”

The older women took the opportunity here to tickle Jesse viciously, breaking any of the tension that might otherwise have weighed down upon the table. In the few brief moments the sissy managed to get a thought through that barrage of giggling… she was startled to think that these two who had so much more than her… were still just as trapped by who they had been born to be. There were just layers upon layers of canaries and cages.

It was at that moment, than her collar began rhythmically buzzing. The time in her company they had paid for... had ran out.