The Willcotts - Karie (F/F, D/s, Consensual) by Amanda Nightly ============================================================================ The Willcotts - Karie Chapter 1 ============================================================================
"Yes ma'am, I understand," Karie said to Mrs. Willcott over the phone. "I 'll try my best. Goodbye." Karie was a young assistant professor of History and Women's Studies at one of the top universities in the nation, but as she hung up the phone and leaned back in the comfortable chair in her office, the world in which she lived seemed different, as if a whole new perspective had come into view. She had just had a brief ten-minute conversation with Mrs. Willcott, the mother of one of her freshman students, Alissa Willcott. Karie knew that Alissa was a bright girl who was doing well in her History of Women 101 class, but otherwise Alissa hadn't really made much of an impact on Karie so far this semester. By coincidence, it just so happened that Alissa was scheduled to visit Karie's office hours this afternoon. Karie would have to think fast; she might not have another chance to speak privately to Alissa for days, if not weeks. As she thought about her conversation with Mrs. Willcott and the impending meeting with Alissa, she lost herself in thought and fantasy, and her hand slipped down between her legs. After a few minutes, a loud knock on the door jolted Karie back to reality. Surely Alissa wasn't here yet! No, it was probably her 2:30 appointment. "Come in?" Karie invited. The door opened and the face of a homely girl peeked through. It wasn't Alissa. "Oh, I'm sorry, Emma," Karie said, pretending to have forgotten about her 2:30 meeting. "I'm not going to be able to meet with you today. Do you think you could come back tomorrow or Friday?" Emma smiled and said, "Sure, professor, no problem." She ducked back out the door and shut it behind her. Karie suspected that meeting with her professor was the last thing that Emma wanted to do. Any other day, Karie might have felt offended by how eagerly Emma left, but today Karie didn't care. She had more important things to worry about. Alissa was coming! Karie got up from behind her desk and surveyed the small office. She thought that whatever she decided to do, she should try to make a definite impression on Alissa when the girl arrived. What better way to indicate the change in their relationship than by waiting for the girl on her knees? It seemed like a fine idea, and it made the tingle between her legs grow stronger. She took her place in the middle of the floor between her desk and the office door. The room was carpeted, but after a little while, Karie's knees began to ache. She found she enjoyed this submissive position, but even more than that she hoped Alissa would be on time. Twenty minutes and two very sore knees later, Karie heard a knock at the door. This was it! "Come in!" Karie said. The door opened and Alissa, a tall, thin, blonde-haired girl entered. Karie had noticed how attractive the girl was before, but now, from Karie's perspective on the floor, the girl seemed even more beautiful. "Welcome, my Lady!" Alissa was a bit surprised to see her professor waiting for her on her knees, but not quite as surprised as Karie would have expected. "Oh no," Alissa groaned as she closed the door behind her, "don't tell me . . ." "I had a conversation with your mother on the phone a little while ago," Karie was eager to explain. "She suggested that I show you a bit more . . . respect--the kind of respect that a young woman in your social station deserves. Your mother made me realize that even though I'm the professor and you are the student, in other more important ways you are the superior, my Lady, and I am the inferior." "I knew it!" the coed said, clearly unhappy. "God! I'll bet my mother has called all of my female professors. This is so embarrassing! Listen, Professor, you don't have to . . . do this." She gestured awkwardly at Karie as the woman continued to kneel. "I'm not any more `superior' than anyone else! I'm just a normal college student!" "But you're not! I admit that when you first started this semester, I didn 't realize who you were. I had no idea that you were one of THE Willcotts. Why, your family could probably buy this entire university!" "What does that have to do with anything?" "Wealth means power, and your extraordinary wealth gives you extraordinary power, the power to do what you want whenever you want to whomever you want. It's your power that brings forth my own subservience, that urges me to kneel before you so I can serve and obey you, my Lady." Alissa rolled her eyes. "But don't you find it humiliating? Isn't there some part of you that wants to stand up?" Karie looked down and blushed slightly. "To be honest, my Lady, this is something that I have long fantasized about. Of course, I despise how our misogynistic, male-dominated culture objectifies women, but when it comes to women using and dominating other women . . . well, let's just say that the idea excites me. You have no idea how much scholarly work as been devoted to describing and detailing the debasement that women have suffered at the hands of men over the centuries, but very little research has been done to describe the power relations among women. It's an area of study which has become my field of expertise lately. What I've learned is that there have always been certain women -- certain very powerful and wealthy women--who have been able to, shall we say, have their way with any person, including any other woman, that they wish. When I spoke to your mother, I realized that she was one of these women--and someday, you will be too, my Lady." "But I don't want to be like that, Professor! I keep telling my mother I just want to be normal, but she keeps trying to drag me in to her perverted lifestyle." "You shouldn't be so resistant," Karie argued. "History has shown that there have always been two classes: the elite few and the subjugated many. With only so many resources in the world, we can't all live among the elite. There must be some people who go without--or to think of it another way, some people are themselves resources, to be bought, sold, traded, and used. Look at me: I'm an intelligent, educated woman, yet I realize that despite my education, I'm not one of the elites. Therefore, I must be one of those who are on this earth to serve the elite class. "For example," Karie said, at last getting up from her knees to go to the bookshelf, "there was a Roman empress who used to throw elaborate feasts for other noblewomen where they were attended only by their favorite slave girls. The ladies would enjoy the lavish meal, the very best food and wine that the empire had to offer, while the slave girls would feast on their ladies' pussies. There's another story of a secret society of wealthy, bisexual women in Nazi Germany who took Jewish women and used them as their personal sex slaves before their husbands, tragically, discovered what was going on and forced the women to ship the slaves off to extermination camps. Or-- ah! here's the book! -- there was a 15th century Bavarian princess who liked to treat her ladies-in-waiting like dogs. She liked to take them out to her father's private hunting grounds where they were sent to chase after another lady-in-waiting who was dressed as a fox--here! there's a reproduction of a woodcut image of the scene . . ." Karie brought the book over to Alissa and showed the page to her student. The engraving showed a lady on horseback watching as half a dozen naked women in collars crawled after another naked woman who wore a fox's mask. "That's sick!" Alissa declared. "My mother uses women like that, too, but I don't want any part of it!" "Please, my Lady," Karie said, putting down the book and dropping to her knees once more. There was a growing desperation in her voice as she sensed she was losing Alissa. "Don't turn your back on the pleasure and privilege that is rightfully yours! Subject me to your discipline! Dominate me! Make me your slave!" Karie closed her eyes and leaned forward, trying to kiss Alissa's foot, but she found only empty air. She heard a door opening and opened her eyes just in time to see Alissa's feet walking out the door of the
office. Karie was disappointed, but she wasn't about to give up. She got up from the floor and returned to her desk, taking the book with the woodcut illustrations with her. She set the book on her desk and stared at the images of sexual debauchery, of domination and submission. As she began to caress herself through her clothing and masturbate, she knew this was what she wanted more than anything. One way or another, Karie was determined to make her fantasy come true.
"Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Willcott," Karie said as she entered the older woman's home office. "I know how busy you are." A week had passed since Karie and Alissa's meeting. Karie was dressed professionally, in a navy blue knee-length skirt, a white, short-sleeved blouse, and a brand new pair of heeled shoes. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a neat, simple ponytail, and she wore a modest amount of make-up. Mrs. Willcott thought the girl looked like she was interviewing for a job; she was even holding a slim portfolio folder. "It's not a problem, Karie," Mrs. Willcott said from behind her desk. "I was actually thinking of calling you back, just to see how things were going between you and my daughter." "I'm afraid I haven't been entirely successful, ma'am," Karie confessed. "I told her about our conversation, and I've tried to reason with her, to convince her what her role in society should be. I guess I just haven't been persuasive. I'm very sorry." "Don't be so hard on yourself," the older woman said with a smile. "I'm sure you've tried your best. Alissa has been very stubborn lately. Even her older sister and I haven't been able to get through to her. I just don't know what we're going to do!" "I promise I'll keep trying, Mrs. Willcott," Karie said. "In the meantime, it's the subject of our phone conversation the other day that is the reason for my visit." "Oh?" "Yes ma'am. I've hardly been able to think about anything else since we spoke. It's completely changed the way I think about the world now, especially my research." "Your research?" "Yes ma'am. As you know, I'm a history professor. My emphasis is women's history. I had been studying it from a feminist perspective--looking at how women's lives have challenged the male patriarchal social structures even as their stories have been erased from the phallocentric historical chronicle." "That sounds interesting," Mrs. Willcott lied. She actually never liked history and she was afraid this young woman was going to bore her to tears. "It is, ma'am. However, our conversation the other day has altered some of my fundamental assumptions. In fact, in the last few days I've even written a paper on the subject which I hope to present at a conference--as soon as I can get it accepted." She opened her portfolio and pulled out a thick document. She handed it across the desk to Mrs. Willcott. The title read, "' Dominate Me, Mistress': The Necessity of Slavery in a Post-Capitalist Feminist Society." Perhaps I was wrong, Mrs. Willcott thought to herself. Maybe history isn't so bad after all. "If you'll allow me to summarize the article, ma'am, my thesis is that the abolition of slavery in western society is an aberration which will soon be resolved. Marx, I believe, misinterpreted the philosopher Hegel when he predicted a future of constant progress, of increasing rights for the working classes. For most of human history, slavery as been the norm. It is only recently that western societies have abolished it. Thus, the abolition of slavery in history is the antithesis to the thesis of slavery. Eventually, perhaps quite soon, there will be a new synthesis: a society that will merge
many of the new rights that women have gained with a reinvention of slavery as an acceptable reification of human labor." Mrs. Willcott smiled. "So how do you envision this new era of slavery?" "Well, since my area of concentration has been feminist history, my paper, of course, examines how inter-female relationships will adapt to the new social environment; in other words, I predict we shall see an increase in the numbers of mistresses and their female slaves. Since slavery has historically been practiced by the wealthiest citizens in a kingdom or empire, it makes sense that most of the slaves of the future will also be owned by the wealthy and the ruling classes." "Yes, that does make sense," Mrs. Willcott said. "So then someone like Alissa--or myself--would be likely to own slaves?" "That's correct, ma'am." Mrs. Willcott stood up and started walking around her desk towards Karie, who continued to sit demurely in her seat. Karie was forced to look up, and as she did, she saw how beautiful Mrs. Willcott was. She was clearly older than Alissa, of course, but she had the same blonde hair (though with a bit of gray), the same trim figure, and there was a womanly confidence about her that only came with age. In some respects, she was more attractive than her own daughter. "And what about you, Karie? How do you think you would fit in to this new society?" Karie cast her glance downwards. "Well, my family has never had much money. I attended graduate school at Princeton, but it required that I take out some rather substantial student loans. In fact, I'm still paying those loans off." Mrs. Willcott leaned against her desk. "So I guess that would make you . . ." Karie looked up at the older woman. "I would rank among the class of slaves, yes ma'am." "And that doesn't bother you? That you might have to serve as some mistress's slave? Doesn't it contradict your feminist beliefs?" "Not necessarily, ma'am. It only requires an abridgment--a synthesis, to use Hegel's terminology--of the feminist gains that have been made in the last century. Superior women, such as yourself, would still have complete freedom to do whatever you wish, while inferior women, like me, would proudly enter into our slavery with only one goal in mind: to make sure that you enjoy your freedom to its fullest. It would be like a symbiotic relationship. You would rule and we would serve. You would command and we would obey. You would take and we would give. You would seek comfort and pleasure and our labor would provide it. It's a perfect dichotomy." "Well, I can see how I would benefit, but I don't see how you would find any satisfaction from the arrangement." "Yes, ma'am. Please let me explain. As a member of the dominant class, your satisfaction comes from being the recipient of the pleasure and luxury that a slave would provide. As for the slaves, the concept of personhood must be altered in the mistress-slave relationship. When the slave submits herself, and her identity, to the will of her mistress, the slave becomes an extension of the mistress herself. She--or perhaps I should say it'--no longer has its own separate identity. Only mistresses such as yourself would still qualify as persons' while slaves, like me, would be treated like simply a piece of property, an item, a thing. We would be tools for powerful women like you to use. And we would be single-minded in our devotion and our efforts to please you because only through your satisfaction and pleasure would our lives have meaning." "Aren't you afraid that if you gave up your freedom that I might abuse my power?" "No, ma'am. By definition, there's no such thing as an abuse of omnipotent power. Whatever you desire is the slave's law. My--I mean, a slave's only concern would be how to best fulfill your wishes. If I--I mean, if the slave failed, then discipline would of course need to be employed and the slave would accept it--indeed, strict discipline might even add to the slave's sense of satisfaction." Mrs. Willcott could see that Karie was starting to get flustered. Her cheeks were turning pink and her eyes were roaming up and down the older woman's body. "Well, then," Mrs. Willcott said with a smirk as the tone of her voice grew more aggressive, "if your role in life is to serve as a slave, then shouldn't you get down on your knees, where you belong?" Without hesitation, Karie slid out of her chair and knelt before the older woman. "Yes ma'am--I mean, yes, my Domina. Slaves, of course, must always kneel before their mistresses." Mrs. Willcott raised an eyebrow. She'd never heard that "Domina" title before, but she liked it. "You wish to serve me, as my slave?" "Yes, Domina. I desire it more than anything." "You desire it? But your desires don't matter, remember? Only my desires matter." "Of course, Domina. I meant to say that if it pleases you, you may claim me as one of your slaves." "One of my slaves? So Alissa told you that I have others?" "Yes, Domina." "And that doesn't bother you: that you would be but one of many slaves who serve me." "It doesn't bother me at all, Domina. In fact, it stands to reason. A powerful woman like yourself should be surrounded by slaves--hundreds of them, thousands! All of them women! All of them serving you!" Karie was starting to swoon. Mrs. Willcott could see she was extremely turned on. "So how would you serve as my slave? If I claim you, what can I expect you to do for me? "Anything you wish, my Domina. I am yours to command." "Tell me." "I could serve you at work, Domina. In your office, without pay. As a secretary or an assistant." "But I only hire the very best employees. And frankly, there's no place at my charity for a worthless historian like yourself." "As you wish, Domina. Perhaps I could serve you here in your home, as a maid or a cook." "But I already have plenty of help around the house--and yes, most of them are my slaves as well." "Then perhaps . . ." "Perhaps what?" "Perhaps . . ." Karie said, staring lustfully at her mistress's skirt and the pussy she knew was beneath it, "I could serve as your pussy slave." "Oh? Now that sounds interesting. What would you offer me in that capacity? " "I offer you my tongue, Domina. It would be at your disposal at all hours of the day." She licked her lips hungrily, looking up into the older woman' s eyes. "It would worship your pussy, tend to all of its desires. Your beautiful, delicious pussy would be the center of this slave's existence. The rest of this slave's body could be naked, perhaps chained to your bed awaiting your use. Your pleasure would be this slave's only reason for being. This slave would even deny itself pleasure, if you commanded it. This slave's own orgasms, like the rest of its body, would belong only to you, Domina." Karie seemed to be given over completely to lust as she imagined what she described. "I think I like the sound of that. Take off your clothes. I don't think you'll need them anymore." "Yes, Domina," Karie said. Without standing up, she very quickly removed her blouse, skirt, and heels. Mrs. Willcott saw that the young woman hadn't been wearing a bra or panties. That little slut! she thought. When she was naked, Karie resumed her submissive position on her knees. " This pussy slave belongs to you now, Domina, and it begs to serve." "And serve it will," Mrs. Willcott said. She walked back around her desk and picked up Karie's essay. She threw it in the trash. "I really don't give a shit about that." She opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a long
leather leash. She tied it securely around her new slave's neck and commanded, "Heel, my slave. We're going to my bedroom where I'm going to ride your face all afternoon." "Yes, Domina." Led by the leash, Karie crawled out of the room on her hands and knees. Her pussy was wet and her tongue was salivating. She couldn't wait to begin servicing her new mistress.
The Willcotts - Karie Chapter 2 ============================================================================ ==== Two weeks later . . . ============================================================================ ==== Alissa Willcott walked up to the front door of her parents' mansion and wondered what she should do. There was a time, not so long ago, when Alissa would have just walked right in, after all, this was where she grew up. But having gone away to college, and having learned about her mother's sexual perversions, Alissa suddenly felt like a stranger standing here at the door. She decided to ring the doorbell. After waiting for a minute, the door opened and Alissa was greeted by one of the maids. Alissa didn't recognize the young woman; her mother must have hired her since Alissa had moved out. As the maid politely invited the college girl inside, Alissa wondered if this maid was her mother's slave, too. It made Alissa's stomach turn just to imagine it. "This way, ma'am," the maid said. "Your mother will see you in the library." Alissa followed the maid, peeking into the rooms they passed as if she had never been in this house before. Alissa half expected to find the house had been turned into a whorehouse, every room filled with scenes of debauchery, culminating in her mother engaged in some crazed lesbian orgy in the library with half a dozen slaves. Instead, Alissa found the house was empty, and the library was exactly as she had remembered it when she lived here. "Please, have a seat, ma'am," the maid said. "Your mother will be downstairs in a moment. Would you care for some refreshment while you wait?" "No, thanks," Alissa said in her friendliest voice. "I'm fine." The maid offered a small curtsy, and then she disappeared out the door. Alissa didn't immediately sit down. Instead, she walked around the room, looking at the books on the walls. When Alissa was a little girl, she used to spend hours in this room, lying on the floor, reading books. Now, although she recognized many of those books she had enjoyed still on the shelves, this place seemed different, corrupted. She wondered, when she used to spend hours in here reading, was her mother playing her sick domination games somewhere else in the enormous house? How did she do it without Alissa ever even knowing what was going on? It almost felt like her childhood had been a lie somehow. Her quiet reflection was interrupted by the sound of high heels walking down a flight of stairs. When the maid had led Alissa to the library, she had been as silent as a snowflake, so Alissa figured it was her mother. The girl took a seat on one of the small leather sofas and watched the door of the
library. When her mother entered, Alissa was shocked by what she saw. Her mother was dressed simply, wearing a long-sleeved white blouse and a long, dark, matronly skirt. She was the one wearing the heels, though they were partly concealed in the shadow of the skirt. Her outfit seemed conservative, almost old-fashioned, but Alissa had seen her wear outfits similar to that before, so she wasn't surprised by her mother's lack of fashion sense. No, what shocked Alissa was that her mother was followed into the library by her history professor, Karie! And Karie was completely naked, except for a steel collar around her neck! Her tongue was sticking out, and it was pierced with an unusually large tongue stud. Clipped onto the stud was a light, thin leash, the other end of which Mrs. Willcott held in her hand. Karie made sure to walk directly behind her mistress so that the leash had plenty of slack and didn't pull too tightly on her tongue. Mrs. Willcott sat down in a large, comfortable chair opposite her daughter while the slave knelt down on the floor beside her, her hands behind her back. "Professor . . ." Alissa began. But she didn't know what to say, she was so surprised. Mrs. Willcott smiled and explained, "Earlier this month, your former professor came to me and offered herself as a slave. After some consideration, and after trying her out, I accepted--isn't that right, slave?" "Yethh, omina," the kneeling slave struggled to say. Mrs. Willcott smiled at the slave's difficulty and said, "Her tongue, as you can see, belongs to me." The older woman unclipped the leash from the slave's tongue piercing. Karie's tongue disappeared inside of her mouth for an instant--just long enough to be moistened, and then the tip of the tongue reappeared between Karie's lips, as if it were announcing its readiness to serve. "I haven't seen you at school in almost two weeks," Alissa said to Karie, trying to make small talk with the naked woman in a vain attempt to defuse the awkwardness of the situation. "Professor Walters has been filling in for you. I asked her where you were, but she just blushed and changed the subject. I was starting to get worried. Have you been here the entire time?" Karie looked up at her mistress for permission to speak. Mrs. Willcott nodded. Karie turned to Alissa and said, "Yes, this slave belongs to the Domina now. It has quit its job at the university." "But why would you do that? What about your career?" "This slave has no need for a career. Its service to the Domina is its only purpose." Alissa shook her head. She couldn't understand how someone would just give up her life like that. And for what? "So what do you do for my mother?" Karie's former student asked. "Are you a maid or something?" "This slave serves as the Domina's pussy slave." "What?!" Alissa was stunned. She looked at her mother who wore a smug expression on her face. "Is she serious?" Alissa demanded. "She . . . she . . ." Alissa couldn't even say the words, so her mother said them for her: "She licks my pussy on command. That's her job now." "Oh mother! How could you make her do that? That's so gross!" Mrs. Willcott took offense. "I don't have to make her do anything at all. In fact, Karie's service was her idea. That's what you have to learn about these slaves. They're doing exactly what they want to do." She looked down at the young woman kneeling on the floor. You like licking my pussy don' t you?" "Yes, Domina! This slave is grateful to be your pussy slave!" "See?" "I still can't understand why anyone would do that," Alissa insisted. "A demonstration then?" Mrs. Willcott snapped her fingers and said, " Position--in front of Alissa." Karie immediately knew what to do. On her hands and knees, she crawled towards Alissa until she was directly in front of her mistress's daughter. She turned her eyes towards the floor and waited patiently for the next command. Alissa looked alarmed. "What are you doing, mother?" "It's called hospitality, dear. You're the guest, so you get to use her first. Go ahead, let your former professor lick you." Alissa immediately crossed her legs and held them together tightly. "No! I . . . I couldn't! Not here, not now--and not at all!" "Don't be such a prude. Trust me, you'll enjoy it." "No, thank you." Mrs. Willcott sighed and shrugged. "Your loss. Karie? You may come over here and serve me." "Yes, Domina," Karie replied happily as she crawled back to Mrs. Willcott who was pulling up her skirt. Karie ducked her head inside. Mrs. Willcott draped the hem of her skirt over Karie's shoulders so that Karie's head was completely out of view. There was a large bulge beneath the skirt where Karie's head was. Alissa watched as a subtle expression of pleasure came over her mother's face, and she could hear a soft slurping sound. "I can't believe you're making her do that!" Alissa protested. "And in front of me, too! It's disgusting!" She couldn't even look in her mother's direction. She cast her eyes towards the window and tried to stare at the nicely manicured lawn, the blue November sky, and the bright sun. She grasped for any bit of normalcy in this crazy situation. As hard as she tried, though, her eyes were drawn again and again back to the perverted scene in front of her. "I want this be a lesson to you," her mother replied. She seemed almost unaffected by the head beneath her skirt as she spoke to her daughter, almost as if Karie wasn't there at all. "Never let a slave go to waste. When a woman offers herself to you, take her! Even if you didn't want to keep this one as a permanent slave, you could at least have used her to get yourself off a few times. You could have commanded her to give you an A in her class, and when the semester was over, you could have dumped her." "That's so cruel!" "Believe me, Alissa, they enjoy the cruelty. If you aren't cruel then they aren't happy." As if to emphasize her point, Mrs. Willcott reached down and grabbed at the head beneath her skirt. She pulled the head further into her pussy and squeezed her legs together. Alissa could hear a muffled squeal from between her mother's legs. "Fine!" Alissa said. "I've learned my lesson! Now can you please stop making her do that?" Mrs. Willcott smiled as she released her tight grip on her slave's head, but she didn't command the slave to stop licking. "You'll get used to this. Don' t think of it as sex per se. It's not like being with a man. This is simply a diversion, entertainment, simple pleasure! For the slave, of course, it's much more. But for women like us--" "Women like you--" Alissa insisted. "For women like us," Mrs. Willcott repeated, "it's just a part of our lifestyle, a part of who we are and our role in society. Don't be so shocked. I'm sure you've seen it yourself--you must have. Your professor here wasn' t the first to offer herself to you. If you think about it, you'll realize that there have been others. Haven't there?" Alissa didn't say anything. She squirmed a bit in her seat and tried to stare out the window again. "Another professor perhaps? Or a teacher from your prep school? One of your classmates? The girls from your dorm at college? A clerk in a store? I remember one of the first times I witnessed a woman behaving subserviently towards me was when I was a teenager. My mother and I were shopping for shoes. There was a salesgirl, a few years older than me, who was helping me try on shoes. She remained on her knees the entire time. When I would stand up to try out a pair, she would simply kneel up, cross her hands in front of her, and say things like, Those look so wonderful on you, miss.' I think my mother understood better what was happening. I remember at one point my mother stood next to the kneeling salesgirl, put her hand on her hair, and pet her like she was petting an animal. She behaved like it was all perfectly normal." "And weren't you freaked out by that?" Alissa asked. "I would be." "Maybe a little. But more than anything, it excited me to know that it was possible to have that kind of power over others. After we left the store, my mother sat me down and explained how some women will behave like that around us. I started paying more attention to the girls and women I met, and in time I learned how to tell the submissives apart from the rest. You'll learn how to do it too. It's just a matter of practice and experience. Not every submissive you encounter will be like Karie here--" Mrs. Willcott ge ntly pet her slave's head as the young woman continued to service her "--not every woman will try to give herself to you. But you have seen others behave similarly, haven't you?" Alissa thought about Jill, a close friend of hers from her prep school days. Jill was always hanging around her, offering to do things for her. Alissa suspected that maybe Jill had a girl crush for her, but now she wondered if it wasn't much more than that. As if able to read her daughter's mind, Mrs. Willcott said, "There have been others, haven't there?" "I--I think so. You remember my friend Jill, don't you? I think she was kind of submissive, I guess. But how can you tell for sure? Aren't you embarrassed when you're wrong?" "Just trust your instincts. It's true that not all women are potential slaves, but in my experience, I'd say about half of the women I come in contact with could be--with the right encouragement. For instance, last month, I had a private meeting with a government lawyer to talk about one of the projects the foundation is working on. She was a lovely, young thing who kept calling me ma'am' even though she didn't represent me. At one point in our negotiations, some of her papers dropped to the floor and she immediately left her chair, got down on her knees with me sitting just two feet away, and cleaned up her mess. My instinct told me she was willing, and when she dropped some more papers five minutes later and again went to her knees, I said to her, You like being there, don't you?' She played dumb and said that she didn't understand. I said, On your knees, in front of me--you like it, don't you?' Her face turned red as she tried to stammer out some kind of explanation. I simply stood up, pulled up my skirt, sat back down in my chair, spread my legs and ordered her to lick me. She didn't even hesitate--she dove right in to my pussy. By the time she left my office, she wasn' t calling me ma'am' anymore; she was calling me Mistress'." As mother and daughter were talking, meanwhile, Karie was busy beneath Mrs. Willcott's skirt, putting her tongue to use. She could hear her mistress and her mistress's daughter talking, but here, in the darkness, their voices seemed distant, and she didn't pay them any attention. Her focus was entirely on the hot, moist, mature pussy beneath her tongue; that was her entire world and the only thing that mattered. If Karie had a choice, she would have preferred to remove her mistress's skirt. The fabric that draped over her head just seemed to get in the way, but Karie had been trained to service the Domina in this way before, and it wasn't for her to decide anyway. Only Karie's slave-tongue and her mistress's beautiful mature pussy that it was eager to lick were all that mattered. She set about trying to pleasure the Domina exactly as Mrs. Willcott had trained her these last two weeks. First she licked slowly along either side of the woman's labia. Then she lightly licked the lips themselves. As they bloomed, she pressed her tongue into the hot pussy, pressing lightly at first but then much harder. Eventually, when her mistress was ready, she would apply her tongue and lips to the woman's clit and bring her to orgasm. Karie loved doing this. It exceeded her wildest fantasies. Before Mrs. Willcott claimed her, she had often dreamed of what it might be like to be a sex slave to a strong woman, but the reality was so much better. The domina had proven to be a cruel mistress: She treated Karie like an object. She was rude and nasty to her slave. She called new slave vile names and seemed unconcerned for Karie's needs--but all this only turned Karie on even more. One of her mistress's commandments was that Karie was not allowed to orgasm without her mistress's permission, and, in fact, Karie had not been allowed a single orgasm since beginning her servitude two weeks earlier. This left her perpetually horny, especially at moments like this when her tongue was buried in a pussy. Karie's own pussy was literally dripping, and from time to time her hips would involuntarily hump and thrust in the air, desperate for any kind of contact that would at last bring her off and give her the orgasm she needed so badly. But Karie resisted the urge to satisfy herself. Every moment that she denied herself release was a further demonstration of her submission to her mistress. In this position: naked, on her hands and knees, with her face buried in the Domina's crotch, she felt like a total slave. No longer a human being, she was simply a sex toy, a physical manifestation of raw lust. Giving pleasure to her mistress was her sole purpose, and to that end she would do anything Mrs. Willcott wanted, obey any command. Karie's feelings of submission fueled her lust, and her lust spurred her towards deeper submission. Mrs. Willcott was aware of her slave's need. She could see the wild hips and she could even smell Kari's arousal. But Mrs. Willcott honestly didn't care about Karie's satisfaction. The girl was her slave, a toy whose only purpose was to serve. Outside the skirt, Alissa and her mother heard the doorbell ring. As they waited for the maid to answer the door, Alissa felt a sudden sense of panic, thinking that someone else might discover her mother's perversity. She was relieved when Mrs. Willcott pushed Karie's head from her and said, "That' s enough, slave. You may stop." Reluctantly, because she knew her mistress wasn't yet satisfied, Karie climbed out from beneath the skirt. As Mrs. Willcott straightened her clothing, Karie knelt in front of Alissa's mother(her nose, lips, and chin covered with a thin sheen), placed her hands behind her back, and bowed her head. " This slave is grateful for the chance to service the Domina's perfect pussy, " she said, as she had been trained to say. They heard footsteps approach. Alissa turned towards the door of the library and saw the maid leading Alison Willcott into the room. Alissa was surprised to see her older sister. Alison looked like a younger version of their mother. Her long, wavy, blonde hair, and her cold, blue eyes resembled pictures that Alissa had seen of her mother before Alison and Alissa were born. Alison was five years older than Alissa. She had graduated at the top of her class from law school last spring and had immediately been offered a job at one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. She was young, beautiful, and ambitious, and while Alissa was different from her in a lot of ways, Alissa had always admired her big sister. Alissa wondered what Alison would say when she saw the naked Karie on the floor, but Alison didn't seem fazed at all. She simply took a seat near Alissa, across from Mrs. Willcott, and watched the scene. After smiling a greeting to Alison, Mrs. Willcott said to Karie, "I'm finished with you for now. Return to your cage in the basement. Perhaps I will use your tongue again later this evening." "As you wish, Domina." "And slave, do you remember your first rule?" "Yes, Domina. This slave may not orgasm without your permission." "That's right. You may go." "Yes, Domina," Karie said worshipfully. She bowed down, kissed her mistress's feet, and then stood up and turned to face the other two young women, noticing Alison for the first time. She acknowledged the older sister first with small curtsy and a "Mistress Alison." Then she turned, repeated the curtsy, and said to Alissa, "My Lady." Alissa thought she almost sounded smug, as if to imply, "See, I told you this was what I wanted!" The maid, who had been waiting nearby after showing Alison in, approached and clipped a leash to Karie's collar. The slave obediently followed the maid out of the room. When Karie was gone, Alissa asked, "Why does she call you, Domina'?" Her mother shrugged. "That's what the little slut prefers to call me. It' s something Latin, I think. I don't know, I always hated history. The slut does have a nice tongue, though." "Mother! She is my professor!" "Was your professor. Don't get so excited, dear. Someone might think you' re jealous instead of pretending disgust." "I am NOT jealous! And I'm not so much disgusted as I am horrified." "Well, if you aren't willing to use a slave when she offers herself to you, then I will. There's no point in letting a lovely creature like that go to waste. She's a little too eager, though. I doubt I'll use her for much longer. It's always more fun if you have to force them--just a little." Alissa turned to her sister and asked, "Did you know about this?" Alison smiled, "Of course. I met Karie a few days ago. I even let her practice her oral skills on me." "She's gotten much better since you used her," Mrs. Willcott said. "I'll have to give her another try some time, then." Mrs. Willcott turned to her younger daughter and said, "I asked Alison to take you out today." "Where?" "I want her to show you the lifestyle. She was kind enough to take a day off from work. Maybe if you won't listen to me, you'll listen to your big sister. You always looked up to her." "Are you ready, then?" Alison asked. Alissa quickly stood up. She couldn't get out of this house fast enough.
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