The Willcotts - Arie

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 demonstarion 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 gently 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."