A wealthy woman becomes a girl's pet
*
"Hi, how are you today, sir?" Miranda asked politely.
"I'm fine, and you? Good! Well I'm off for a game of golf, won't be back until late, there's a committee meeting. Thanks for keeping my wife company. You're a star, young lady," Matthew said.
Geraldine walked into the kitchen still wearing a dressing gown, took one look at Miranda and quickly looked away. "What's she doing here?" his wife asked.
Recognizing his wife was going to be awkward, even rude, he looked at Miranda and smiled pleasantly. "Do you mind waiting in the lounge? Thanks," he smiled gratefully.
"You're not well so I thought some company would help. Why don't you get back to bed and let the girl look after you," he said.
"I don't need a nursemaid, especially a young eighteen-year-old making more mess than you would," she complained.
"Hey, give the kid a chance, she probably needs the money. Her mother suggested it but it was sweet of her to agree to stay," he said.
Trying a different tack she said. "Do you have to play golf today, darling," she asked, while massaging her forehead for effect. Trying for sympathy wasn't working either. She was being outmaneuvered and bitterly knew it.
He wasn't going to miss an important game and she dare not tell him why he should. How that brat of a girl wormed her way into being here didn't matter, she wasn't wanted and would have to go. Miranda caught her in an indelicate position last weekend and of course she angrily dismissed the girl off home. She never expected to ever to see the brat again.
"We're miles from town and you're not well. If you get worse she can look after you or call me. I think my wife needs babysitting while I'm gone," Matthew laughed playfully, giving her a pat on the head.
She grimaced with an exaggerated smile back at him. "OK! Go enjoy your golf, I'll be fine," she smiled wanly.
***
Geraldine strode into the lounge. "I don't know how you wangled your way in here but you are not staying. I'll call a taxi and you're out of here," she said, through gritted teeth.
Miranda said nothing, just slowly and meaningfully turned her head toward the television. Geraldine followed the girl's mean looking eyes. A gasp of shock stopped her moving toward the phone. She clamped a hand over her mouth on seeing a filthy movie. It was her, Geraldine, splayed out on her own bed.
"I'll play it from the beginning, shall I?" Miranda asked, politely.
Geraldine stood transfixed in the middle of the lounge. On the large television screen she was spread out on the bed vigorously using a dildo. She knew the girl had caught her last weekend, after finishing playing with herself, but how was that naughty act here on television?
Slowly it dawned on her. The girl hadn't just walked in the bedroom at the end, she had been filming everything. The bitch must have planted a camera in her bedroom.
"What the hell do you think you are doing? You can't do this. It's private," she said with bitter anger sharpening her voice.
"Better watch from the beginning so you know what you're complaining about," Miranda warned her.
The real action was from last weekend when Miranda caught her masturbating. Miranda had come back during the week when no one was home to see the gardener. She started filming the guy, teasing him, getting him to say things from her prepared script. He had been willing enough to play along, not knowing what she was up to.
***
The scene changed to a shot through the French doors. A young muscular guy, the gardener, stripped off a tight white t-shirt, wiped his sweaty chest then dropped it on the patio. He looked up and waved.
Next was a shot of Geraldine in the same dressing gown looking out of the door, supposedly at the young guy stripping.
"That didn't happen!" she said, to the film rather than the teenager.
He walked toward the open French doors to stand posing, seeming to fill the frame with glistening muscles. The angle swung round to find Geraldine shucking off the dressing gown.
"No! He wasn't there!" she said quietly in disbelief. It was impossible to look away from the screen and as much as she needed to shout at it she just stood silently, taking it all in. This was all wrong! She wouldn't let that young man into her bedroom.
As though confirming Geraldine's thoughts, her voice spoke out in the film. "Don't come in yet, just wait," she said. He nodded as though she had spoken to him from off camera.
Miranda smiled at how well the two separate episodes had been put together. Geraldine had said this when she knocked on the bedroom door last week. It was also very pleasing to see how enthralled the woman was with her little film.
On the large screen, Geraldine lifted her head as though looking toward the French doors and the young man. Dressed in just a thin nightgown she lifted a leg revealing it to the thigh and began rubbing oil into the bare flesh. While she worked on her legs the camera panned to the young guy smiling at her.
"Very nice," he commented, with a mischievous grin plastered across his face.
The nightdress was casually hiked up over her head and dropped on the floor. Again the shot of the guy, only this time he wasn't smiling but looking intense. Miranda had to show her boobs to get him going for this shot.
The woman continued massaging oil over the rest of her body, missing nothing. It was a pity - oiling her breasts looked perfunctory rather than sexy, though any guy watching this attractive naked woman wouldn't analyze it that closely.
"Nice tits," he said, off screen. Again he was commenting on Miranda's naughty tease while the woman of the house was out.
Parting her legs a hand smoothed between the thighs leaving the whole body gleaming. She turned and bent over a dressing table showing a voluptuous bottom with shining lips protruding between thin thighs.
She stepped back to plonk her bottom down on the edge of the bed. In her hand was a black dildo. She hesitated then rubbed it between her thighs.
The part where she hesitated and moved to put it back was cut. The woman had changed her mind and continued playing with herself.
On screen she was laying back on the bed with legs parted, rubbing it over her lips. Around them, over them, she worked it hard while saying something between gritted teeth.
"Watch me do it, just watch me, please," she moaned. The sound of her voice very different now she had become so excited.
At least that's how it appeared. Geraldine had been just moaning, so Miranda added dialogue to fit the scene. It had taken a lot of practice but she thought it sounded pretty good.
The gardener could be heard off screen encouraging the woman. "Do it, go on don't just tease," he said. That's when Miranda had taken a boob out for him.
The dildo had been rubbing a visibly erect bud then it was slipped in a little, obviously held back from plunging in. "Tell me to do it, please, make me do it, I need it so badly," Miranda had dubbed into the film in a put-on husky voice. It really did look as though the woman was pleading with the gardener.
Off screen the guy encouraged. "Go on, all the way," he said.
On cue the dildo was buried deep. Her hips came up off the bed responding as though the gardener had given permission to fuck herself with the dildo.
Miranda was impressed with how carried away the woman had become. Her eyes were closed, probably imagining a favorite fantasy, while really going for it. The sounds of the woman gasping were fitted around Miranda's put-on husky voice.
"Please, sir, let me cum, I need to cum, please, make me cum," the woman on the bed pleaded.
The scene was electrifying as the woman worked the dildo deep inside, thrusting heavily. She raised her hips off the bed in time with every gasp of desperately needed air.
"Go for it, slut," the guy said. He was watching Miranda lifting her t-shirt, not the woman who was out shopping that day.
"Thank you, sir, your slut is coming!" she shrieked.
The woman on the bed collapsed with her own voice whimpering moaning sounds. A very impressive orgasm had been enjoyed.
"No don't come in," the woman said. She tried to pull a sheet from under her body to cover it.
That's when Miranda walked in on her, though in the film it looked as though the gardener was coming in to take her. The film ended with a splash across the bed naming Geraldine as the star then credits rolled, stolen from a real porn movie.
Miranda was very pleased with the voice-over and the film's effect on Geraldine. She wanted to clap she was so pleased with her handiwork.
Geraldine had collapsed to the floor. She looked down at the carpet seeing past the pattern, seeing just those dirty images.
"A great production, impressive, do you want to know how I did it?" Miranda asked her.
"Get out! Don't ever come back," she spat at the girl in anger.
"You sure about that? I thought you would be impressed with my media studies project. It may not be art but I'm sure it will make lots of money, especially around town," she said, with a cruel grin on her face.
Miranda stood up and smoothed down her skirt.
"Sit down! You're not going anywhere you, you, little shit," Geraldine said while struggling to stand on weak legs. She instead flopped back down onto the carpet.
"Don't worry I've left you a copy. It's on a CD in the machine under the television," Miranda pointed out.
"How did you . . . I don't want to know," Geraldine said, while shaking her head. It was difficult to think straight though she was trying hard to make sense of it. "Why did you?" she began then faltered.
"Just a bit of fun, at first," Miranda said. She watched the woman's grimace as she struggled to accept it, then interrupted the garbled complaint.
