The child Bailey had slept perfectly in the basement bedroom suite of his aunt's big house. He had slept on his stomach---"tummy sleeping," his mother called it---and as wakefulness intruded pleasantly he rolled over onto his back beneath the thick down comforter, pulled up to his chin. It was the light that had awoken him, streaming in through the vertical blinds on a sliding glass door that led to the backyard. His eyes wandered around the room, which he hadn't seen in daylight in a year. He reflected that his aunt and uncle did pretty well. The basement room had been fitted with understated wood paneling, modern furniture, and costly black marble floors. Bailey always looked forward to the sprawl of the house, and exploring it with his cousins. Hidden in the Pennsylvania woods, he welcomed its remoteness---he spent his days on movie sets as a busy child actor, dodging paparazzi whenever he was out of reach of studio security. Here he was anonymous, secure, and almost normal.

He'd been awake only a few minutes when his cousins appeared. He heard soft footsteps on the basement stairs, then the door creaked open and twin girls crept in, grinning impishly. They shut the door behind them. The twins were 12, a year older than Bailey. They were still in their nightclothes, identically dressed in a manner that was either cute or cloying: Bailey wasn't sure. They both wore white silk nightgowns, elegant and unadorned, falling to their calves. Against the chill of the marble floors they wore white kneesocks and white ballet slippers.

"Good morning, Bailey," they said almost together, sliding into a sofa near the sliding glass door. Bailey blinked hard. In the diffuse morning light, casting shadows on their faces and illuminating their silks, the sisters were diaphanous, dreamy. He wanted to say, "You look like angels," but instead he said, "Hi. What time is it?"

"8 o'clock," said Kristy, the one with the lighter-colored, shorter hair. Rachel was the one with longer, darker hair. They both had the same elfin smiles and glittering dark eyes. Bailey had been making careful mental notes about who was who the night before. They only saw each other at Christmas. This year the family Christmas was at his aunt's house.

The conversation had only comprised these ten words when a clumping was heard on the stairs and Bailey's mother opened the door. She was fully dressed. "Hey kids," she announced, "Aunt Serena and I are going to the Farmer's Market. Your dad and Uncle Jim left at dawn to go hunting. You think you can occupy yourselves until we get back?"

"Yes," all three kids chirped together. Bailey felt a stirring of excitement at being left alone with his cousins. What fun they had in the house, playing games and watching movies on the big flatscreen TV in the family room.

"Alright, then, stay out of trouble. We'll be back in a few hours. And no looking at your Christmas presents!" And with this she turned and sped up the stairs, anxious to gossip with her sister and join the cheerful bustle at the big Pennsylania farmer's market a half-hour up the road.

"We'll stay out of trouble," Kristy and Rachel called after her, with a mischievous leer that Bailey noted, even as he was still half asleep.

Kristy rose and shut the bedroom door again, then walked to the side of the bed. She sank cross-legged onto the throw rug alongside the bed and was joined at once by her sister.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Kristy.

"Yes," said Bailey. "It's cold down here, but I love this bed."

"Dad keeps this house frigid," said Rachel, hugging herself and rubbing her arms. Bailey turned onto his side so he could see the girls better. They were looking up at him with intensity, and he suddenly felt self-concious and a little vulnerable. He extracted an arm from beneath the covers and ran his fingers through his hair, hoping to erase any bed-head effect.

"Your hair's fine," said Kristy, with a little giggle. Bailey blushed.

"It's longer than last year," said Rachel.

"They made me grow it out for 'When We Dream,' into kind of a Buster Brown thing," said Bailey, referring to his last movie. "I just sort of left it that way."

Having sampled the chilly air, Bailey quickly slid his arm back under the covers.

"Are you wearing your fuzzy pajamas?" said Rachel, having glimpsed his sleeve.

Suddenly recalling that he was, Bailey winced and blushed. "Yes," he said, knowing there'd be no escape from their mirth.

"Let's see!" both girls cried.

Bailey was perfectly warm in his pajamas beneath the covers, the agreeable temperature of a perfect night's sleep, and his embarassment at his boyish pajamas was joined with sorrow at leaving the snugness of his down comforter.

"No. I'm warm under here."

"You had red ones last year, with feet. Are these footie pajamas, too?" said Kristy, picking at the covers.

Bailey seized the comforter and pulled it over his head, burying himself. From beneath the covers, he said, "Hey, gimme a break. I'll be upstairs in a second. Let me change."

But an instant later both girls had grabbed the down comforter and it was off the bed in a flash. Bailey was exposed, encased from neck to toe in fuzzy blue pajamas.

"Bailey wears footie pajamas! Bailey wears footie pajamas!" chanted Rachel. Bailey turned over and curled up into a ball.

Kristy reached onto the bed and tickled his sides. "Aren't you getting a little old for these?"

"You're never too old for footie pajamas," Bailey replied, his voice muffled because his face was pressed into his pillow. "Besides, it's freezing in here."

"You always wear these when you come here," Rachel observed.

"Because Uncle Jim keeps the thermostat on, like, 38," Bailey said, turning over onto his side to look at his cousins.

Both girls sat down on the side of the bed. "Hey, Bail, come upstairs with us. We want to play a game with you. A special game," said Kristy.

If this was meant to sound ominous, it had the intended effect. Bailey frowned. "What sort of game? Can I get dressed first?"

"A special game," repeated Rachel. "A Christmas present just for 11-year-old movie stars."

"And no, you can't get dressed. You'll have to stay in your jammies," said Kristy with a smirk. "Now get up."

It was a command, and didn't sound as playful as Bailey had come to expect from his fun-loving cousins. Bailey felt himself falling under an odd sort of spell. This "game" probably wasn't played with a deck of cards. Still, he felt a not-unfamiliar stirring. His cousins had the strangest effect on him. He'd do anything they told him to, something that had led to many adventures in the past. But he felt a hint of danger, that this was different. Draped loosely around their necks, both girls had long silk scarves. Bailey hadn't paid much attention; they looked like part of the elegant, big-girl nightgown outfit. They were sliding the scarves off their necks.

"What's this, then?" Bailey said, affecting his British schoolboy accent.

"On your knees, and face that way," commanded Kristy.

Bailey did as he was told, getting to his knees on the bed and turning to face away from the girls.

In an instant, he felt them grab his arms and pull them behind his back, Kristy holding them while Rachel fastened his wrists tightly with a silk scarf.

"Hey! Wait a second! I---I--" Bailey was surpised at the strength of the silk scarf. He couldn't wriggle his wrists loose. He started to stand up on the bed, to run, but they held him.

"Be still, or we'll tie your feet, too," said Rachel. Kristy was putting another silk scarf around his eyes as a blindfold.

"Wait...what are you doing? This is SOME game," Bailey sputtered, enjoying the fun but apprehensive at the surpising security of his bonds. "Can't we eat breakfast, first? I'm hungry."

"We're gonna eat YOU for breakfast, Bail," said Kristy, laughing. "Now, off the bed. We're taking you upstairs."

They helped him swing his legs off the bed and he got to his feet. "I can't see," he said lamely. Both girls giggled.

"This way," they said together, holding his arms and leading him from the bed towards the door. If the surprise of being bound and blindfolded hadn't gotten his blood moving, the chill of the floor did the trick. The pajama feet had soft vinyl soles, much too thin to insulate his feet from the marble. "Cold! Cold!" he yelped, doing a little dance.

"Don't be a baby," said Rachel, and they led him stumbling up the wooden stairs. The soles of his pajama feet scuffled noisily as he tried to find the steps blindfolded.

He was led through the kitchen, felt the carpet of the den underfoot, then there was another set of stairs. "Where are you taking me?" he asked.

"Kristy and Rachel's dungeon for naughty boys," Kristy said.

To the embarassment of being being tied up by girls and paraded in his pajamas, Bailey now felt himself becoming aroused. He wasn't wearing underwear and he was suddenly horrified at the thought of an erection tenting up his pajamas. He willed himself to settle down.

"What are you going to do?" Bailey asked, feeling an odd and intoxicating mixture of thrill and embarassment.

"We're going to give you your Christmas present---early!" said Rachel. Both girls roared with laughter.

The three padded down an upstairs hall and turned into a room. Bailey's internal navigation sense told him, correctly, that this was one of the girl's rooms, with its dolls, posters, and canopied bed.

"Sit here," Bailey was told, and he settled on the floor, cross-legged. He'd never had his hands tied behind him before. It was quite uncomfortable, and he reflected that if his wrists had been tied with anything besides the silk scarf, it would be painful.

"Okay, Bailey, for the first part of your Christmas present, we're going to give you two things. You can't refuse the gifts, but you get to choose which you get first," said Kristy.

Bailey tried to peek out from beneath his silk blindfold. Like most blindfolds, there was a tiny spot alongside his nose where he could see out. At once he felt Rachel tighten the blindfold.

"Okaaay," Bailey said uncertainly. "What are my choices?"

"You're getting a backrub, and you're getting a spanking. Which first?"

"Wait a minute! A spanking! I don't want a spanking!"

"Of course you don't," said Kristy. "But you're going to get one, along with the best backrub of your life. So which first?"

A strange game, thought Bailey. "Uh, I'll have the backrub, if you please," this in his fake British schoolboy accent. He reasoned that the backrub from his cousins would be VERY pleasant, and it would give him time to plot an escape before they spanked him.

"Okay, onto the bed, then." The girls lifted him by the arms and propelled him to the bed, sliding him on his belly into the middle of the big mattress. They untied his wrists, but held his arms while they retied his wrists with silk scarves to the posts at the head of the bed.

"Why do I have to be tied up for a backrub?" asked Bailey.

"Just because," said Rachel, and the two girls proceeded to give Bailey the most thorough massage of his entire short life. Even the professional masseuses that had sometimes attended the sets of high-budget films had nothing on his twin cousins. They kneaded every accessible inch of his body, from the crown of his head to the soles of his pajama'd feet. With four hands working, Bailey felt himself melt into jello. It was the most wonderful feeling he'd ever known, and he wasn't able to resist an erection. Fortunately he was face-down on the bed and his penis was pressed against the mattress, where it wouldn't cause him embarassment.

After twenty minutes, he had forgotten about almost everything in the world. Thus he was jarred back into the present when the massage stopped, and he felt his ankles being tied together with another of the silk scarfs. Before he could react, his feet were immobilized and secured with another scarf to the bedframe. He was now pinioned face-down on the bed, barely able to move, the warm glow of the backrub subsiding rapidly.

"Are you ready for what's next?" said Kristy.

"You aren't really going to spank me, are you?" said Bailey, thinking that perhaps it would be some gentle game, a patting with the palm of a hand, or perhaps a slipper, a playful prelude to the sex that at this point he fervently hoped would follow.

"We most certainly are going to spank you," said Rachel.

"And remember, no one's home, so scream as loud as you like. Actually, screaming will help with the pain."

"I don't like the sound of---" Bailey started, but his ears caught the sound of Kristy's leather riding crop swishing through the air and impacting his buttocks. The pain was white-hot, like a thousand bee stings.

"Aaahhhhh!" shrieked Bailey, several octaves above his usual boyish soprano. The scream was absolutely, completely involuntary. There was nothing even slightly theatrical about it, and he had performed some theatrical screams before, in the movie dramas that had swollen his trust fund over the last five years.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" he cried, but the third 'stop' wasn't out of his lips before the riding crop fell again, this time on the backs of his legs. The pajamas did nothing to cushion the blow, and he let out a strangling shriek of pain, pulling violently at his restraints. He could form no words of protest as the blows fell, and the individual screams that accompanied each stroke blended into one continuous howl, trailing off only after Kristy stopped at 10 strokes.

Now Bailey was furious, jerking at his bonds. "Why'd you do that?! Why'd you do that?! I'm not going to be able to sit down for the rest of my life!"

"Oh, Bailey, we've been planning this for a long time," said Kristy.

"Bailey, when we saw you on that talk show last week, being your usual cute self, we both agreed that we needed to do some things for you," said Rachel.

"We decided that we needed to show you some real human pleasure, a reward for being such a beautiful little boy, especially one who's getting so close to being a man," explained Kristy. "And we also decided that we needed to show you a little humility and pain, since most boys don't get to ride around in limos and play Nintendo in their own trailers on movie sets."

"So this morning, we're going to give you equal measures of pain and pleasure, to acquaint you with the full scope of human existence."

"Ecstasy," said Kristy, "And agony."

Gasping for air, Bailey tried to comprehend this. His beautiful cousins suddenly seemed Satanic. Yet he still had a pulsing erection, and the dreadful sting of the riding crop was being drowned in a tingling rush of desire. He said nothing as the cousins unfastened his hands and feet. Gently they rolled him over on the bed, and he didn't protest as his hands and feet were tied once again with the silk scarfs, this time binding him spread-eagle on the bed, wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts.

His blindfold was taken off. "We want you to see this," whispered the girls together.

Panting, Bailey lifted his head and watched as Kristy took the zipper-pull of his pajamas between thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled it down, revealing his white hairless chest, and then his fully erect penis. Kristy straddled the boy, afixing his blue eyes with hers. She lifted her nightgown and lowered herself slowly onto him. Bailey's eyes rolled back into his head and he let out a long, long groan as Kristy began to slide up and down on his penis. He came very quickly, of course, and with balletic grace she slid to one side and there was Rachel, lifting her gown and sliding onto him. He kept his erection and came again only minutes later, crying out with pleasure and amazement.

"A virgin no longer," Kristy whispered into his ear before pressing her lips to his and driving her tongue to the back of his throat, silencing any reply as Rachel followed up with a blowjob. After a little of this intense lovemaking, both girls stepped off the bed, zipping his pajamas back up as they went. Bailey lay perfectly still, forgetting about the restraints, forgetting about the welts on his buttocks and the backs of the legs, and forgetting that he just gotten laid for the first time while wearing fuzzy blue footie pajamas. His 11-year-old mind was ablaze, trying to process all of the stimulation. He couldn't think, and he certainly couldn't speak.

He rested for a few minutes, eyes closed, lolling his head back and forth, trying to clear his head. He heard Kristy and Rachel rustling around in the room. They were doing something, taking things from drawers.

"Hey..." he said. "Hey, will you untie me?"

Kristy appeared at the bedside. "Nope. We haven't even begun with you, kiddo. We were just warming you up."

"What...what are you going to...?"

Kristy held up a strange object so that he could see it. It was a rubber thing, like a ball, only with leather straps attached.

"What the...is that a gag? I'm not gonna..."

"Yes, it's a gag, and we need you to put it in for the next stage."

"I'm not going to put that in my mouth! Let me go!"

Kristy nodded to her sister. "Rachel, show him. I think you'll want the gag."

Rachel held up an object that looked like a fat pen, silvery, with a shiny metal point at one end. A wire was attached to the other end and led to a complicated looking control box that Rachel placed on the bedside table. It, in turn, was plugged into the wall.

"That's an electric probe, Bailey, and we're going to give you some shocks. Now, open up." Kristy pressed the ball gag into his mouth, but Bailey clenched his teeth. "Rachel, give him a dose."

Kristy stepped back so Bailey could watch Rachel. She walked around the bed and stopped at his bound feet. Slowly, deliberately, she brought the point of the probe closer to his right foot, and pressed the point into his sole. The thin white vinyl stitched to the bottoms of the pajama feet didn't obstruct the charge. There was an audible buzz, and it felt like a hot needle had been driven into his foot. Bailey cried out, and Kristy, who had been holding the gag at the ready, jammed the rubber ball into his mouth and quickly fastened the straps behind his head.

"Unnnnngghhhh," Bailey grunted, and immediately the ball gag made him drool. Kristy, anticipating this, had a hand towel ready, which she dabbed at his cheeks.

"There, now, Bailey. This will hurt a lot, but you will also enjoy it. We promise not to spend more than an hour with the electrodes."

"Mah moofers coomfing hmm," Bailey said, tugging urgently again at the silk scarfs that held his wrists and ankles.

"What's that? You're mother's coming home?" said Rachel, holding up the probe so he could get a better look at it. "Not for hours yet. They'll eat lunch at the Farmer's market, and it's only 9. Now, where were we? Each little piggy?"

Rachel went to work on his feet, tracing the contours of his soles with the electrode. With each contact, Bailey arched his back and let loose a muffled scream. "Shhhhh," soothed Kristy, chasing his drool with her towel. "This won't do any permanent harm. The voltage is much too low."

"And now to move on to more delicate anatomy," Rachel said. For the second time that morning, Kristy unzipped Bailey's pajamas. The zipper went down his front and almost to his knee on the left leg. With the zipper all of the way down, his genitals were completely exposed. He didn't have an erection, so Rachel went to work, applying Vaseline, then stroking him gently until, even in his pain, he couldn't resist.

"We've got some specialized equipment, courtesy of our parents," said Kristy.

"They don't know we borrowed it," said Rachel. She set the electric probe on the bed and picked up some odd bits of metal and wire, connected by long cables to the box on the bedside table. "Now, these first." She fastened a circular metal clip around the base of his penis, and a second identical one near the tip of his penis. "One of these is live, the other's the ground. Basic electrical circuit." And with this, Kristy dabbed at a button on the control box.

Bailey nearly fainted with agony, writhing violently, his teeth clamped on the gag.

"I guess that works. There's more, though." Kristy fastened an electrode to each of his testicles, a clip that fastened to his scrotum tightly just above the gonad.

"The ones on the feet worked well, so more there..." said Rachel. She slipped an elastic band onto each foot, each band pressing an electrode firmly against his arches.

"And for good measure, his little titties," said Kristy, and she fastened a round metal electrode beneath each of his nipples with a bit of white medical tape.

"Are we ready to light him up?"

"We've got a button for each electrode. It'll be like playing the piano."

"Let's start with a simple triad chord," said Kristy, and she pressed the buttons that energized his penis, testicle, and nipple electrodes.

The gag couldn't contain his scream. High pitched and ragged, it would have been audible all over the big house. The boy struggled with renewed vigor, but the silk scarves could not be dislodged.

Kristy knelt by the bed, leaned forward, and smoothed the hair off his sweating brow. Bailey looked into her twinkling eyes, panting heavily through his nose. "It's just 9 o'clock, kiddo." She smiled. "Three more hours of this and you'll do anything we ask."