Total Woman Academy graduates were ubiquitous in international commerce, national governments and advanced research institutions. The organization had placed graduates with countless organizations controlled by their extensive network of the world's elite. The peak recruiting seasons were spring-time, when TWA senior coeds graduated into the broader world, and again in the fall, when the weather changed and the post-graduates mused on changes in their own arrangements.
Sir Stephen, a wealthy British lord with vast holdings in the homelands and former colonies, was an old and favored TWA pledge contributor. Including his generous service at special academic events like Freewill Weekend, he employed recent graduates as special executive assistants for his businesses. The young women learned from Sir Stephen's unparalleled business skills; he benefitted from their unparalleled sensual skills. The exchanges were made during Sir Stephen's periodic inspection tours of his world-wide interests.
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Irene
Last year, TWA had provided a canine veterinarian for his pedigreed kennels in Scotland. The progress reports from the assigned lass, the pledge contributor lord and others involved in the breeding enterprise were all positive.
Irene adored Sir Stephen's doggies; Sir Stephen adored Irene's 'doggy's. As a TWA graduate, the Scots-Irish redhead was hyper-competent in all the other positions as well. She kept Sir Stephen cozy and content all night during his random visits, despite the drizzly highland climate. The sheepskin rug before the great room fireplace became their special cuddling place. They petted and brewed each other's sexual appetite before the fire and then devoured their mutual ecstatic banquet later in the bedroom.
Irene swooned in ecstasy every time they made love. Sir Stephen was a master at giving her and all his other fuck-mates fantastic orgasms. The young and vivacious Irene longed for Sir Stephen to visit more frequently. He tried to assuage her fervor by gifting her with a lifelike dildo of his manhood that she could use during his absences.
A specialty shop in London had made it to his precise dimensions using the latest in 3D printing technology. The shopkeeper's daughter had been instrumental in bringing Sir Stephen to a full erection for accurate measurements. Thereafter, while the craftsman performed his erotic artistry in the adjoining workshop, the daughter courteously attended to her customer's erectile discomfort. She insisted on a full service sale, deflating his overwrought monster with her pussy, to the mutual pleasure of both.
Irene liked the facsimile's fleshy color, the bold corona ridge and the prominent veins. She especially liked the way the mechanism's internal rollers and cams amplified the veiny bumps inside her vaginal tunnel much as Sir Stephen's real shaft did during their fucking. But she was a fan of real red meat, not pink plastic. She was not mollified by this substitute.
The ultimate compromise was already at hand. Sir Stephen gave the kennel-master, his bastard half-brother Ian, permission to keep Irene satiated during his absence. Ian agreed, with conditions. Ian wanted Irene to acknowledge that a family member, even a bastard without peerage, was superior to a courtesan. Irene must wear a decorative dog collar at all times, day and night: a gem encrusted thin leather band with an O-ring dangling at her throat. Nubile Irene reluctantly agreed; better the submissive symbol than a dismal loneliness in the Scottish Highlands.
During the days, Irene tended to her beloved puppies and hounds. When the workday ended, she attended Ian at dinner. The widowed housekeeper, Mrs. O'Leary, laid out their supper, then retreated for the night to her servants' cottage near the estate's gated entrance.
Irene's suggestive wardrobe for dinner varied: sometimes silky formal ball gowns, other times skimpy low cut club dresses, occasionally tit and cunt baring corset and stocking sets, whatever Ian demanded or that she thought would amuse him. Whatever she wore, it was always accessorized by the sparkling dog-collar on her neck. Over time, she came to know two very different sides of Ian.
One Ian was gentle, bragging of the day's successes, complimenting her beauty and fashionable style. After dinner, they retired to the great room, shedding clothes during extended foreplay and consummating mutually satisfying orgasms. Afterward, Ian would hook up her dog collar silver leash and lead her to bed, fastening the chain to the bedpost, symbolically reaffirming his hegemony over her status. Sleeping naked, warm and content, she might be woken before morning to perform some gentle sucking or fucking.
But Irene also learned of the second Ian, one that both thrilled her and frightened her. He would brood at dinner, muttering about slights and derisions perpetrated by the staff, clients or vendors. Feeling belittled by their neglect of respect, it aggravated the unspoken truth of his lesser status within the family.
The first time she encountered this dark Ian, she wore a silky gown to dinner, the neck strap holding the top across her loose full breasts, hints of pokies pockmarking the shear fabric. All through dinner, Ian sulked, staring at her teasing chest as his mood fell.
"Show me your tits, bitch..." he growled.
Startled by the rudeness but compliant, Irene resentfully loosened the neck band and let the top fall away to pool in her lap. Ian leaned back in his chair, contemplating the rosy perfections topping the ample plush orbs. Irene looked down from his stare, intimidated by his cross tone of voice and a bit unnerved by Ian's quiet brooding.
"Pluck the nipples; get 'em harder..."
Irene's right thumb and finger rolled and pinched her left nub. The manipulation brought on the commanded stiffness. Abhorring asymmetry, she worked the right one to equal erection. She glanced up cautiously at Ian, who slightly shrugged his shoulders in acceptance of her efforts. He pointed to the floor beside his chair. Irene rose and stood next to him. Her pert nipples were eye level to her seated master.
Ian cupped one breast, a grip that indented the pliant flesh. He angled the captured mass and examined the swollen point. He checked the other for equal preparation, contemplating their imminent sexual service. He drew her in and suckled the womanly orb, tonguing roughly around the areola. He rose and stood over her, his masculine dark eyes squinting into her feminine crystal bright irises.
Ian pulled the silver leash from his pocket, attached it to her collar and towed her roughly to the great room. Her tits bobbed loosely as she navigated the hallway in her heels, her hands hiking up the long dress, fearful of tumbling on a tangled hem. He parked her in front of the fireplace and sat in a facing upholstered easy chair.
"Come on, drop the duds, girlie... we don't have all night!"
