Lady De La Dia Ch 04

This is a work of fiction, and is one of a projected series of stories taking place within the walls of De la Dia manor. Unlike the first entry, this (and those following) will not need to do a lot of setup to get to the point, but if you haven't read the first entry a lot of things won't make sense. I appreciate feedback, and thanks for reading!

Chapter 4 The First Morning After

Amy's eyes snapped open at the sharp rapping of knuckles against her door. She let out a prolonged yawn, stretching her pallid arms above her head and arching her back to wake up her abdominal muscles. The night had passed like a fifteenth round beat down... slowly, painfully, and obviously, and she was not yet ready to face the servant girl whose name still eluded her.

For the first three days of her live-in tenure at the mansion of Sarastra De la Dia, cosmetics giantess, Amy Curtis had enjoyed the best time of her life. Free meals, a personal servant, massages, free lodging, and the name of a billion dollar woman on the dotted line had made her stay a pleasant one to be sure. However... she had not been entirely comfortable with Sarastra's apparent obsession with the nature of sexuality, and after accidentally happening upon her personal servant giving frantic oral sex to one of the executives in the mansion she had started to entertain second thoughts. The night had been filled with them, and this morning saw her rising as an achy, worried, and woefully anxious young woman.

After a few minutes of knocking, Amy finally summoned the strength to get out of bed and answer the door. She looked like hell, she knew, but hoped that her wildly out of place blonde hair would give the servant a reason to turn away and afford her a few more minutes. She pulled open the door.

"Good morning, Amy!" The servant girl, who Amy knew only as Sunday, stood in the doorway with her little cart, dressed in a cute-as-hell baby doll dress in pastel yellow with a matching bow. The picture of innocence she may have been, but all that Amy could think of when she smiled her immaculate smile was those generous lips gripping the throbbing shaft of Donovan Simms' cock.

"Good morning, Sunday. Um... I'm sorry about the mess. I didn't sleep well at all last night."

"Oh, not to worry," Sunday sang in her pretty bird voice as she wheeled the cart inside and began to casually pick up Amy's discarded clothes from the day before. Amy watched her as she worked without complaint, noticing the way her ruffled skirt rode up when she bent to retrieve something. Thankfully, its length sufficiently covered Sunday's indecency, but still it rose far enough to display the beautiful tone of the girl's legs. She couldn't help but recall the end of their conversation, right after their shared swimming lesson the night before, as she let her eyes wander down their creamy, smooth lengths.

You aren't, are you? Into girls, I mean,

Sunday had asked as she stood naked before Amy, drying her pool-wet body with a borrowed towel. Amy had denied it like a witch in a Puritan colony, but last night's show... it wasn't Donovan Simms who had her attention, despite his willingness to taste his own semen in a girl's mouth. It was Sunday, locked in his arms, her sexy ass ramming against him... Sunday, innocent Sunday, who had gotten Amy's pussy so wet that she had lost track of time and allowed her bathtub to overflow upstairs.

"Amy? Here are your clothes for today," Sunday announced, taking a stack of neatly folded articles from the top of her cart and pushing them into Amy's hands. "I thought you might like to try something a little more... beautiful. So I brought you some girly clothes, I hope you don't mind."

Amy examined the gift, piece by piece. The blouse sang to her in a subdued shade of mauve, and the knee-length plaited skirt shone in perfectly jet black. The undergarments had not changed from those offered the previous three days... basic cotton whites, functional and unflattering. Overall, the outfit held plenty of attractive allure, but lacked the costume-ish feel of everyone else's clothes in that bizarre mansion. In a way, Amy wished Sunday would have brought her something a bit skimpier, maybe a bikini bottom instead of the granny panties. Yesterday's underwear already sat atop Sunday's cart, ready to be taken to the wash.

"Okay," Sunday bowed her head a bit, chocolate ponytail bouncing. "I am going to go on ahead with my chores for the day. I'll see you before supper for our massage, I hope. Bye!" Without waiting for a word of farewell, the lovely servant girl turned her cart and left the room, leaving Amy still searching for the words she needed to justify what she'd seen the night before. Cursing herself for her indecision, Amy stepped outside of her quarters a moment later and opened her mouth to call Sunday back.

She froze, just as she had last night. About twenty feet down the lengthy hallway the servant girl had stopped her cart, and now leaned against one of the walls with her pretty face buried deeply in the crotch of Amy's discarded panties. She made a show of inhaling deeply the musky odor of Amy's day-old juices, her eyes rolling back in perfect euphoria at the delicious scent of the new girl.

Amy practically tumbled back into her room. That... pervert! How dare Sunday sniff her underwear like that? Did she do that every morning, so brazenly out in the open? Why hadn't anyone stopped her?

Her mind rolling with the thunder of too many questions, Amy dressed herself in a hurry. Once she was sure that no one would be there to stop her, she stormed down the long hallway to the office of her new employer, determined to get some answers.

"What worries you, Amy?" inquired the melancholic voice of Sarastra De la Dia, whose face was ever hidden behind the back of her creepy office chair. With the lighting in her office kept so dark and foggy, Amy doubted that she could have seen this woman's face at point blank, let alone across the room, but tried to keep her irritation with the chair out of her voice. "Has some aspect of your stay been unpleasant?

"Damn right... well... no, not exactly. I just..." Amy caught herself stammering over her words, suddenly feeling foolish beyond all sense of reason for stomping into her boss's office to tell such a story. "I'm just a little off put at walking in on Sunday sucking a guy's dick in the pool room, and then the next day catching her sniffing the crotch of my panties outside my room. Is this stuff that goes on all the time?" She sighed, truly feeling ridiculous.

"I told you that my employees are encouraged to love one another, Amy. We must study our subject, here at a cosmetics industrial headquarters... as I said, we are in the business of selling sex. This is part of our agreement, remember... if it offends you, walk away and keep your eyes to the floor. As for your... panties... I'm sure that your servant girl has taken a shine to you. She told me as much, but I ordered that she not come onto you or attempt to seduce you based on your statement of 'not wanting to have sex for anyone's records.'" Sarastra shrugged, allowing her languid, black clad arms to lift into sight. "I am certain that she needs to release her frustrations somehow."

Amy's breath let out. "I'm just off-put is all. It's so strange to be in a place where sex is so out in the open..."

"Amy. If I may suggest... if you are completely opposed to seeing or knowing of lovemaking occurring in your general area, you will have a long six months here. If for no other reason than to assuage your curiosities and ease your concerns, I feel that you should allow yourself to be part of our understanding at least for a bit. If after sampling our lifestyle you are still repulsed, then I will go to great lengths to see that you are not offended in the future. Does this sound like a deal to you?"

Amy bit gently upon her lower lip, testing the idea in her mind. On the one hand, she was horny as all hell after last night... her pussy had practically spoken English to her last night in its bid for release. On the other hand, she had never seen herself as an easy woman, and if she agreed to Sarastra's idea she would be practically giving her virginity away.

"I'm not so sure," she admitted to the elusive billionairess. "Is Donovan the only guy here? I don't think I've seen any others..."

Sarastra's melancholy tone interrupted. "Yes. He is the only man here, and he services many of the women who prefer the touch of a man."

"I really don't want to get pregnant or something while I'm here, ma'am. I just... I don't know."

There was a pause, as Sarastra's heavy black chair turned slowly about, so that Amy could see at least a silhouette of her employer. She stepped back involuntarily; something about this woman

still

left her feeling unsettled in a half-dozen ways.

"Donovan is one man. I could not ask him to take on another girl anyway, Amy, but you are perfectly free to make love to any of the girls you like."

Amy was perfectly aghast.

"Before you tell me to go to hell, young lady, I would ask you... have you ever experimented with a woman before?" The silhouette rose languidly from the chair, and Sarastra de la Dia stepped around her desk to sit upon it. Amy blinked, her lips parting just a bit in amazement; Sarastra must have been well over six feet in height, and hers was the exotic face of a natural Spanish beauty. Full, pouting lips set beneath a strong nose and a set of wicked emerald eyes that positively dripped sex characterized her features, features that, now, were set in a bemused expression.

"Well, no, of course not. I would never." Amy nodded as she rattled off her words with far more conviction than she truly felt. She felt warm beneath her chic clothes, the heat of embarrassment flushing into every crevice of her body.

"Then how could you know whether it is to your liking?" Sarastra's eyes twinkled as she held out her long, enticing arms and wiggled her fingers in a come hither sort of motion. Amy tilted her head curiously, and opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but before the words could form in her throat her feet had already begun to carry her forth. Muddle filled her mind, distorted everything she thought she knew, as she looked into the eyes of that most unusual woman.

Sarastra's pale hands settled to Amy's shoulders. "Face my desk. Please, humor me, and do as I ask my child." Amy did just that without a word of question or complaint, though vaguely she felt as if she ought to be voicing those fears instead of keeping quiet. Even so, as she stared vacantly into Sarastra's gorgeous eyes, those fears melted away as if they had never been.

"You are mine now. Do you understand that?" Sarastra asked, her fingers running idly through the blonde wisps of Amy's hair. "Until I say otherwise, you will do exactly as I say. I will teach you, Amy Curtis."

Warmth filtered throughout Amy's body, growing more and more apparent with every beat of her racing heart. She hadn't come here for this, that much was certain, but somehow could not bring herself to say no. In that moment, all that she could think about was the will and whim of Sarastra.

"Amy. Take off your blouse and skirt," the giantess commanded, the melancholy gone from her musical voice. "Right now." Amy stared in perfect amazement at such an insane request, but could not keep her trembling hands from tugging at the hem of the blouse, sliding it up and over her head in one fluid motion. The skirt's clasp was easily undone, and it fell effortlessly down her supple legs, pooling on the floor next to the blouse and leaving her generous body exposed to her employer in nothing more than a bra and a pair of dampening panties. The breath caught in her throat, and she licked her lips nervously, without truly knowing why.

"Very good, Amy," Sarastra praised, her gaze traveling over every creamy inch of Amy's tender skin. "You are fat, Amy. You are fat, but not so fat that you aren't beautiful, my youngling. Not so fat that you aren't desirable. And we will deal with your little weight problem together, later. For now..."

Amy caught her breath again at the cool touch of Sarastra's hands upon her bare shoulders, fingertips tracing the soft curves all the way down to her wrists. Sarastra moved in close and leaned down, pressing her sultry lips against the nook of Amy's neck and kissing hungrily. Amy felt her knees go weak, and she would have fallen had Sarastra's arms not looped around her waist to support her, dragging her in even closer. Her mouth fell open, soft sighs escaping her throat as Sarastra nibbled her neck and brazenly fondled her panty-covered butt. The older woman squeezed and kneaded Amy's soft cheeks as she flicked out her tongue against Amy's neck, licking up and down, and up again, kissing harder with each teasing stroke.

Amy felt herself leaning forward, her arms clasping around Sarastra's narrow waist for balance. Except for her hips, her entire body felt paralyzed by Sarastra's delicious attentions. She wanted desperately to stop this, to run the other way, but at the same time, she craved this, longed for only this.

Sarastra's fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of Amy's underwear, and Amy's backside jolted against the giantess's legs, a shrill moan rising from her mouth. The feel of Sarastra's fingers on her bare butt sent jolts of electricity up the length of her body, and she clung to her employer, whimpering as her panties darkened with her fluids.

"Now," Sarastra whispered into her ear, so close that the tip of the raven-haired beauty's tongue flicked against the lobe, "remove that silly bra, Amy. Remove it as your goddess commands you." She leaned back, shoving Amy bodily out of her embrace, and for a moment Amy thought to protest.

"Why," she muttered incredulously even as her fingertips worked to unhook the uncomfortable bra, a far away look in her eyes, her breathing rapid, her body glistening with hot sweat.

Sarastra chuckled quietly, her eyes locked upon Amy's newly exposed tits. She reached out and began to slowly caress them, massaging each breast gently before allowing her fingertips to lightly brush over the college girl's soft pink nipples. Amy whimpered at the luscious agony of it.

"Because I said so, Amy. You are mine, remember. Now... your underwear. I want to see your cunt, my little one, I want to watch your juices drip onto my floor. Take them off, and lay them upon my desk," Sarastra commanded, her tone haunting in its depth and timbre.

Amy's eyes were wet with tears of confusion and joy as she hooked her thumbs beneath the waistband and pulled her underwear down, tugging it hard when the white cotton crotch stuck between her engorged labia. She stepped out of them, now completely naked before the hungry eyes of Sarastra de la Dia, and laid them out across the sturdy mahogany desk. She looked to Sarastra, her eyes pleading.

"You are such a good servant, Amy. I have only one more task for you before I set you free," Sarastra intoned, once again caressing the gentle swelling of Amy's pale breasts. "Bend over my desk, Amy, and grind your face into your panties. Sniff them, lick them, suck the decadent taste of your pussy out of them, and I will reward you further."

Amy turned, guided by the gentle hands upon her chest, and stepped close to the edge of Sarastra's desk. She took a deep breath and bent over, letting her belly rest upon the polished surface, shivering as her erect nipples pushed against the cold finish. The smell of steaming cunt washed over her, both the fresh smell emanating from between her fattened pussy lips and the older scent rising from within her soaking wet panties. She felt Sarastra's hands roaming along her back, kneading her flesh as they traveled lower, ever lower.

"Eat them, Amy. Eat your sweltering pussy," Sarastra moaned into her ear, giving Amy's quivering bottom a stinging slap. "Hurry, Amy," she urged as her fingertips ran down Amy's cleft and began to caress her dripping slit, "hurry, and make love to them with your mouth."

Amy couldn't help herself. The cool of the desk hardened her already rock solid nipples, and Sarastra's fingers played the edges of her cunt like a sweet violin... she was so hot that she would have licked out her own panties even without Sarastra's insistence. The young woman buried her face in the warm folds of her underwear, breathing in the heady scent of her own juices. That damp cotton smelled so amazingly sexy to her that she couldn't stop herself from devouring it like an animal. Her tongue lapped at the dampest parts of the garment, filling her wanton mouth with the taste of her own sex.

As Amy ate out her own underwear, Sarastra leaned down and drove her warm, wet tongue into the younger woman's ear. Amy jerked in sudden shock, but could not tear her face away from the undergarments, and found herself whining, begging aloud for Sarastra to fuck her, to end this blissful punishment however she could.

"Oh, god... Sarastra, you're so... oh... " she moaned between licks, "fuck... yeah, fuck me, please, oh please..."

Sarastra nodded without pulling her tongue from the girl's ear, and plunged her glistening fingertips deeply into Amy's aching pussy. Amy howled in delight, her knees going weak again. Sarastra pushed her fingers deeper into Amy's tight crevice, holding her thumb up to massage Amy's nether hole as well.

"Fuuuuuck!" Amy's head dropped to the desk as she felt her entire body tensing, her back arching to shove her backside harder against her boss's wonderful fingers. She moaned at the top of her lungs, not giving a damn who might be listening. Sarastra's fingers teased and caressed her inner folds, pumping deeper and faster by the moment, squelching and sucking with her wetness.

"Are you going to come for me, Amy?" Sarastra demanded in the voice of a minx. Amy gasped and nodded, panting into her underwear and rubbing her breasts against the surface of the desk with everything she had in her. Her ass thrust harder against Sarastra's skillful fingers, begging them to fuck her faster, more deeply. In her whole life, Amy had never felt anything like this... she'd masturbated plenty of times, but this was something different. Sarastra's hot skin penetrating her heady cunt drove her to the edge of sanity with every thrust, and she knew, as her ass began to quiver and the delicious throb in her cunt began to grow and spread all over her body, that she was about explode.

Sarastra smiled a purely wicked smile as she removed her fingers from between Amy's lips. The coed raised her eyes, her breathing still too rapid to control, and stared dutifully at Sarastra.

"Please," she whimpered, "please don't stop. I'm so close, please, make me come..."

Sarastra's long legs carried her without haste around the desk, and Amy followed her every movement with her sex-glazed eyes, admiring her boss's muscular ass and shapely thighs in equal part. She sat down in her office chair and turned it, so that once again her form lay hidden by the seat back, and Amy cursed inwardly.

"No. I will not make you come, Amy, and neither will you make yourself come. You are forbidden to orgasm, youngling, unless someone else gives it to you." Her voice had not raised, her breath had not sped, not even a little. Amy, still leaning over the desk with cunt juice oozing down her legs, could only stare stupidly and whimper at the tension caught in her womanhood.

"But, please, you said you were going to show me..."

"I did show you. Now you know how it feels to be loved by a woman. You know that it is good, and now, you will go and do as I have said. Get dressed, Amy." Amy couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sadly she reached for her panties, wondering who she'd pissed off to earn this horrible denial. "No, Amy. Only take your skirt and blouse. When you leave here, you will want nothing more than make love to one of my girls. You will crave pussy like you crave water when you thirst, but you will not remember that I commanded it. Do you understand?"