"I know pet. Now stroke my calf, while I tell you that where my predecessor at the college, Mrs De Vere, used to discipline the Kincaids (both step-mother and daughter and sometimes simultaneously), I seek to delight in the first and last instance.
It would be no exaggeration to say that Alexandra has entertained me on numerous occasions. And I would have to add the perverse thought that such entertainments took place in the very same garden where I previously, subsequently and, occasionally, simultaneously, enjoyed every aspect of her dear step-mother.
Having heard from Karen about her predilection for beating Alexandra's bottom, I felt even more obliged to guide Alex in the most appropriate way of conveying her maturing thoughts. She would write me the most delicious essays, even though her most demanding head of college had no real interest in such expression.
I would tell the then sweet eighteen year old to remember my fingers playing joyfully between her distended labia at moments of stress. The thought of such delectation would help her to manage any emotional outburst, as Mrs De Vere sadistically impressed her mark upon as only a recently promoted head of college could do.
After all: the mingling of pleasure and pain is a thing that all well-trained pets need to accustom themselves to. Control and constraint rarely come naturally or instinctively. Remembrance of past pleasures will ease the pain of the moment. The association of delight with a given situation can be refined until a pet is completely enslaved to the emotions and sensations that you have inculcated within her.
There are exploitative relationships that need to be moderated. I've since had three years to moderate Alexandra Kincaid. The first year was a time of slow weaning: letting Alex know that she had been noticed, but focussing almost entirely on Karen.
It would have been tempting to sit in on one of the disciplinary sessions that Karen had told me so much about, but 'softly, softly catchee monkey' as they say.
I was patient enough to content myself with hearing Karen's tales. She would kneel between my thighs and, between lickings and tastings, would tell me of the evenings earlier entertainments.
"Will you tell me more about the entertainments, Jane?" Amanda said to me that afternoon in the rose garden, stealing me away from my reverie. I looked across at her kneeling there, dutifully stroking my lower leg and smiled affectionately.
"But of course I will, Amanda pet; that is provided, of course, you can arrange something in exchange?"
"I'm sure daddy will part with some rare treasure, miss."
"Will he, pet?"
"I'm sure that can be arranged."
"If I give you enough blooms and enough tales, will he offer up his most precious treasure?"
"If the treasure is that valuable, perhaps you should offer up the entire crop, Jane."
"You want a cropping, too?"
"You wouldn't hurt me, would you, Miss Jane?"
"I will only hurt you as much as you need to be hurt. Punishment and pleasure are the yin and yang of surrender: the sunshine follows the rain. The smiles follow the tears, Amanda. My crop marks you mine. Which would you have, dear?"
"I should have it all, if it pleases you, dear Jane."
"It is good you have such a broad mind, Amanda..."
I remember saying the very same thing to Karen as she delighted in exciting me with the torrid particulars of how she had punished Alex with hand or hairbrush. She would sometimes detail how she had watched Mrs De Vere do the very same earlier in the evening. It was so nice of her to pop round to please me in her very neighbourly fashion.
I could empathise with Alexandra. And wince at the thought of all those punishments she seemed to suffer. That did not stop me from gushing over Karen's tongue as she flicked it deftly between my labia, embracing my clitoral button as if she would never relinquish it.
The second year led to a change in pace when Alex left college at nineteen and shortly afterwards lost her job at the local Do-It-Yourself store on the outskirts of Peddington. The reason for this dismissal was her having failed to indulge a certain Ms Mary Higgins.
I was able to empathise with the angry girl. I was also able to empathise with Higgins, who had been Alex's supervisor at that time. She is a forty five year old lady with greying hair, a large bust, a well rounded belly and somewhat rapacious attitudes as regards the younger members of her staff.
I do not automatically tolerate such one-sided relationships, but the temporary loss of freedom sustained by Alex through this relationship, held considerable opportunities for me.
As such, I was the one who spread cream across Alex's nubile form and pulled the sun protector over her eyes. I was also the guilty party who secured the knots that held Alex to the wooden sun-bed. And I was the one who had previously invited Mary to come round for tea by the lake.
Amanda, dear: do stop trying to read over my shoulder. Kneel back and close your eyes like a good pet now. Lick me gently. I will read aloud if you like, but I want you to feel me tremble and sense my delight at each recollection.
Can't you can almost taste Mary's delight as she watched the lake with me and sipped her tea. She admired the bathing and then bathed in bliss as Alex's clever, but unknowing tongue penetrated first her wrinkled vagina and then her middle-aged anus. The sweet, young tongue worked in such an unforgettable way that Mary was bound to become a regular at my little soirees.
"Some pleasures may be worth paying for," Amanda whispered, playfully tying a daisy chain around her thin neck and offering me the end.
How could I help, but smile? I took the end and pulled ever so gently, not wanting the chain between us to break ever: "I do so enjoy the beauty of flowers and you are the most beautiful of flowers, Amanda."
"Your enjoyment begins to be my main pleasure, Jane."
"And you will give me such perfect enjoyment. Magnolias may be soft and may adorn a room nicely, but they are not so beautiful without you there, settling on the petals. I can picture you, Amanda -- tell me; is your favourite color rose?"
"I like pink."
"I can never decide which colour I like best."
"Pink blooms; pink bloomers," Amanda smiled and flicked her skirt up wickedly to reveal the truth of that statement.
"Pink, rose petals it shall be then; with a hint of red to represent your nails -- a little contrast to intrigue me: and a little white to show off the pallor as I strip away your lovely clothes."
"I like white too."
"White petal, white blouse, red petal, red brassiere, pink petal, pink panties, and so on?"
"Yes miss. I am happy to be stripped to meet your agenda."
"And striped?"
"Well, you did offer me the crop, miss."
"I am too lazy to crop you today. I will dream of laying you back in all of these petals: so rich and so kissable. And you will accept all my kisses, won't you dear?"
"It is your due miss."
"And how is my dew, dear?"
"Your dew is perfect, miss," Amanda grinned and licked her lips.
"You are becoming such a decadent little thing..."
And talking of decadent, I have to say that Mary the manager (yes, dear, stifle that giggle like a good girl) also became a regular donator to my refurbishment fund. This wonderful couch is a tribute to the way I trained Alex to contain her revulsion at the woman's hairy maw, when the blindfold finally came off.
And, as you have read and heard, I have diarised every scandalous encounter from that first furtive kiss by the gate, as Alex tried to sneak back late through my garden well after her curfew. I have written reams about the slow seduction while Alex has responded gratifyingly by rimming me magnificently, during dalliances in the summer house that had lasted all afternoon, when her step-mother was away (on my instructions) visiting.
