Mother's Legacy

Growing up rich in America isn't all it's cracked up to be. My mother, the Supreme Bitch of the Universe, believed one should earn one's way through life and fortify the foundation of America will philanthropic gifts from the family trust. At my twenty-first birthday ball, Mother and Daddy "introduced" me to our friends and family as " . . . our pride and joy, just returning from her year commitment to the Peace Corp and beginning her medical training at Columbia . . ." I let the words wash over me. At six feet and two inches in height, I am usually described as 'a good-sized girl'. However, my year stint working as a medic/logistics leader in the Ukraine had left me waif thin, my ribs and pelvic bone sticking out through my skin, my glorious bustline reduced to little, round C cups, and my eyes appeared huge in my face.

Todd Enders wanted me to come into the studio on Monday and try my hand at modeling. I was severely tempted. Todd, the miserly bastard, would pay a very little money. Money, mind you, that I could spend on things completely frivolous without having to go through the monthly Q&A session, explaining and justifying my purchases. But Fate has a way of stepping into life and altering it forever.

My college roommate, Charlotte Vandiford, had fallen in love with a sweet, Iowa farm girl, Chloe Hathaway. Chloe was a petite thing, all round and blonde and smiling and soft. Charlotte, 'a good-sized girl' like my former self, was a masochistic dyke. She liked to be spanked and clamped until she reached orgasm. Then, Good Charlotte became a carnivorous sucking and fucking machine, not satisfied until her partner was nearly dead from exhaustion.

So, there Chloe stood in her pink leather dominatrix suit and boots (yeah, you can take the girl out of Iowa) nervously handling the pony whip I had given her while she watched me working over the love of her life. Charlotte was holding up pretty well. Charlotte's body was slick with sweat, her pussy was gushing juice, but we hadn't reached Eureka yet. I applied more pressure to the chain connecting her nipple clamps. "On your knees, bitch. My shoes are filthy."

While Charlotte went to work licking off my shoes, I ordered Chloe to whip Charlotte. "Just look at her playing with herself. She doesn't have permission to do that, Chloe. Assert yourself! Whip her ass!" Something took hold of Chloe, and she began whipping Charlotte in earnest. Chloe grabbed Charlotte by the hair, and forced her to suck the whip handle, rattling it around in her mouth. Chloe had finally turned into the beast Charlotte wanted her to be, slapping and pinching and cursing Charlotte with every breath.

And that is when things get a bit fuzzy. When I saw Chloe had finally got on program, I went and lit some candles, burned some incense, and drew myself a hot bath. After my bath, I went into my dressing room and chose a pink peignoir in Chloe's honor. Imagine my surprise, returning to my suite, to find Mother's ass being rough fucked, up against the wall, by Charlotte while Chloe greedily devoured her pussy. Even more amazing was the guttural grunts and squeals issuing from her throat. Mother turned and captured Charlotte's mouth in a passionate kiss when her body began to rock with orgasm. Mother licked Charlotte's lip and that's when she caught sight of me, sitting in a wingback with a small glass of icy vodka from my wet bar while I watched the Supreme Bitch of the Universe getting her groove on.

Mother called my name, clutched at her heart, and died. That was all. Quick and painless. Being rich does have its privileges. I hustled Charlotte and Chloe out of there and retrieved my Daddy from the Library. We rolled Mother up in the rug, hauled her over to their wing of the house and threw her into bed. Now, you without sin can go ahead and throw the first stone. But Daddy and I know our way around the world. Between forensic science and the paparazzi, we decided the best thing we could do was get some of Daddy's semen on her, if not in her, immediately. Unfortunately, Daddy was crying and couldn't bring himself to get the job done. I went into mother's dressing room and put on a pair of opera gloves. Opening her bedside drawer, I got her bottle of Slick 'Em out, pulled Daddy's pants down, and had him greased, primed and pumped in under ten minutes. We put the rug in front of the fireplace, set the stage, and then I was off to bed while Daddy called the police.

The next night, after the police had gone and the servants had gone to bed, I walked into Daddy's room, my hair pulled tight away from my face in a pony tail, my flannel robe wrapped tightly around me and my fuzzy slippers on my feet. After entering his room, I shed the robe which hid the teddy bear I was now clutching. Underneath the robe, I had worn my pink and white baby doll pajamas. In my other hand, I held a prescription bottle. "I had fun last night, Daddy," I giggled, opening the prescription bottle and placing one of the little blue pills on my tongue.

I kissed my Daddy deeply, feeling his throat convulse in a swallow. I turned and kissed my teddy and then demanded, in my little girl's voice, that Daddy kiss him too. I then put my teddy bear's face in my crotch and writhed and moaned with pleasure. I then demanded Daddy do the same thing. And that time, I writhed and moaned in pleasure for real. I remember all the conversations Mother and I had over the years, all the conversations I overheard Mother having. Daddy liked his women spoiled and childlike, both in appearance and demeanor. Why would this interest me? Because, when I jacked him off the night before, I found out Daddy had a horse's cock, with which I had every intention of being fucked, fucked hard, and fucked often.