.5

I watched my husband's eyes.

I felt his hot and ragged breath upon my face and I knew, I knew the exquisite agony which must have been his.

Above him I could see Corrie's form in the sunlight, but the details were lost to my view.

I tracked the progress of my husband's debasement in the deep pools of his blue eyes and drank it in, was drunk upon it. I knew the exact moment when Corrie began to press that thick dildo against the gate of Simon's ass. I knew his sharp pain as the head forced past his aperture, I took in his exhaled breath and I could taste the shame and fear upon it. I wanted to lick the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes as Corrie drove that rubber beast slowly deeper, as she taught him his place in the new structure of our world.

I could hear the metallic jangling of the cage which she had forced him into, and every whimper, every sob, every futile plea that Simon offered against Corrie's pressing will. It was plain to me that Simon did not understand, but I understood all too well. That this was not about him. Had never been about him.

This was for me.

Each time I tore my gaze from Simon's eyes I looked up and found my daughter staring down at me, and each time that our eyes met she grinned in pride and in delight, an emotion so intense that I found myself unable to bear it and each time had to lower my eyes once more. I could deal more easily with my husband's weakness than I could my daughter's incredible and sublime strength.

I do not know how long this lasted. How long I watched and felt and knew...it felt like forever but it could not have been so long. The sun was still streaming through the windows, the shadows were still in place upon the floor...it could not have lasted so long. But in the time that it took for Corrie to force that rubber phallus deep into her father's ass, something vast had changed within and between all of us. The world we existed in was irrevocably lost to the world which had been.

Simon at last pressed his face to the floor, and his body seemed to collapse, all physical control fleeing from his muscular frame, and he simply trembled, shuddered, a moaning thing far from the man that he had been just moments before. He lay between us, his form, his physicality undeniable, and yet it seemed like he was hardly there. Corrie loomed above me, my daughter bathed in light and I could not help but feel that it was just us at last, and that in some way it had always been just us.

And as she stood over me and grinned, I found that I was straining against the bonds which held me tight, found that I was soaked and needy and desperate with desire. I wanted to crawl to her. I wanted to place myself at her feet and kiss them, and to feel her light caramel hands upon me. I did not care that there would be pain, or shame. I did not care that I would have no say in my own fate. I only wanted her...only wanted to belong to her and to feel on my flesh the obligation of such belonging.

That need must have been very plain upon my face, for when Corrie spoke it seemed as though she was reading my mind.

"You understand, don't you mom? You are finally beginning to understand. All of this...every piece of it, it has all been for you. Every single step I've taken has been to bring us right here...with you on your knees and worshiping me as your Goddess, as your salvation. Everything that I have done, and I have done so much Mom...so very much...all to see you fall."

Delicately she stepped over her father, trembling on the carpet, the end of the dildo protruding obscenely between the muscled cheeks of his pale ass.She placed herself before my eyes, so that I could see the wetness on her thighs, could smell the fragrance of her hungry cunt and the electric desire upon her skin. She wanted me, as badly as I wanted her, but the depths of our need and the forms which they took were different, far apart.

Corrie reached down, and she deftly released the straps of my gag, slid the ball from my mouth and allowed me to gasp for breath. She raised my chin with her fingertips, so that I had no choice but to stare up fully into her dark eyes and she held me there, transfixed within her gaze.

"What are you, Mommy?"

I answered her honestly and completely, my whole soul laid out bare.

"I am your slave, Mistress. I am your property, your bitch, your toy. I am whatever you choose to make me."

And then, sensing there was something missing.

"And I am your mother, Mistress. I am your mother."

It seemed that was what she had wanted to hear.

In an instant she was crouched before me and her lips were seeking mine. I opened my mouth and let her tongue slide over mine, squirming to the back of my throat. Somehow, that kiss was one of an overwhelming passion, shared between us. It had no trace of ownership, or domination. There was nothing of the Mistress or of the slave. In that kiss there was only a vast, deep longing. A desire and an irrepressible love.

We were Mother and Daughter, and we were also so much more.

It was Corrie who broke the kiss, and I was sorry for it. I could have kissed her forever, just like that. Yet at the same time I understood that the kiss was simply the tip of the iceberg, a manifestation of all that welled invisibly beneath it.

"What about him?" Corrie asked, glancing down at my husband, shattered on the floor beneath her.

"What about Dad?"

"I love him." I answered honestly. "I will always love him...but he is only what you wish for him to be. Whatever place, whatever role you have for him, there is nothing I can do about it. He's my husband...but I belong only to you Mistress. I will see him as you wish for me to see him."

"Very good Slave. I always knew I could break you...all my life I knew. That at heart you were nothing more than a submissive, sexual thing, just waiting to come undone. You fought so hard to keep that side of you in check, but I always knew that I would bring it out of you. I made that my mission...built my whole life around it. Now here we are."

She was reaching back. She was undoing the ties which bound me in place. The straps and tethers were falling away and I felt the blood rushing painfully back to my extremities. Soon I was free, but I did not move from the position I had been set in, and Corrie nodded her satisfaction. She rose once more, and she crossed the room to the chair which she had been sitting in before. Sitting down in it she spread her legs wide, allowing me a clear view of her sweet pink pussy, wet for me and ready. Corrie snapped her fingers and I crawled on hands and knees to my place between her thighs.

She nodded to me and I lowered my face, and plunged myself upon my daughter's sex, and drank her in like a woman possessed.

"At last." The thought kept passing through my frenzied mind. "At last."

My eyes were closed. I did not want to see. I wanted to taste and feel and experience the whole of existence through those senses alone.

I felt her fingers entwining themselves in my hair. I reveled in each gasp and moan that I drew from her supple body, and I lost myself in the taste of her and in the fragrance of her hot cunt. At first I barely heard her words, even though she spoke them plainly.

Or maybe I heard them very well, and it simply took my overwhelmed mind time to process the full importance of their meaning.

"I'm going to make you so much better, slave. I'm going to give you everything you've ever desired. I am going to allow you to submit completely, to be as you were always meant to be. You will be my personal cunt and butt slut...but you will be so much more Mom. I will fill your mouth, your cunt, your ass with all the cocks you've ever dreamed of. I will watch you pounded and gaped and I will see you dripping in the hot cum of strangers...but not only strangers Mom. Oh, no...some of them you will know all too well."

"I will see you grovel before the sopping pussies of women, I will hear you beg to taste them, to touch them, to worship them no matter who, no matter when. You will feast upon the asses of women you have known for your whole life and you will revel in it...you will thank me with tears in your eyes for that simple privilege. Do you understand Mom? Do you understand what I am saying?"

She grasped my hair and pulled me roughly from my work, forced me to open my eyes and to look at her.

"I believe you, Mistress." I managed to whisper, my face wet and slick with her.

Corrie laughed and returned me to my place between her thighs.

"Get your tongue deeper Mom. Get it nice and deep...but listen very carefully to what I have to tell you."

So I drove my tongue deep into Corrie's sweet cunt, and loved her there, and I let her words wash over me.

"Do you remember the summer after my freshman year at Mary Washington? I was just eighteen, but I had a job on campus, so I decided I would spend the summer at Nana's house in Fredericksburg. Such a simple, little choice Mom...but look how it's turned out?"

"Oh, I already had an idea about my sexuality...I knew that I wasn't some airheaded bimbo, and wasn't willing to get on my knees for any dick that happened to come by...I knew I liked control. I knew even then that I had a stronger will than most, and that if I wanted to, I could force others to obey. But honestly, Mom? Before that summer I had no idea how far I could go."

"Nana, obviously, was thrilled to have me staying with her, but all the same I felt obligated to do little things around the house, to earn my keep so to speak. I cooked dinner some nights, I always did the dishes. I did the vacuuming, I dusted the shelves...all perfectly innocent, you understand? Just trying to be helpful, just trying to show that I was grateful."

"Well, one afternoon I was dusting the big bookshelf in Nana's living room, and a book caught my eye. It just didn't seem to fit in with the rest of Nana's books, and so I took it down from the shelf to check it out. A French novel, Trois Filles De Leur Mere. Three daughters of their mother, and if you haven't read it Mom, I can promise you that it is absolutely filthy...but I didn't read it right away Mom. No. Because when I opened that little paper back novel, what spilled out, but polaroids...but you knew that, Mom. I sent you one."

She had. I could picture that polaroid in my head, the wide eyed ecstasy on my mother's face as she was filled to the brim by a white woman's strapon...and indeed I knew that I had not needed the polaroid, for in some dim corner of my memory, still desperate to surface, I knew I had seen it in the flesh. My mother laid out on the kitchen table, her lover's laughter and her wanton whisper.

"Dominate me, baby."

But Corrie spoke on.

"You know, when I first saw those pictures, my first emotion was anger? I thought, here's my grandmother, this famous activist, this prestigious advocate for African American rights...here's this woman who I have always respected and admired. And I was looking at pictures of her being fucked by a strapon. And loving it...and there was a part of me that was furious. Not just that there was this huge aspect of her life that she was hiding, no, not just that...but that the woman in the photographs was white. I think that hurt me, somehow. It made a dirty little secret all the dirtier... The hypocrisy of it all."

I knew what she meant. I understood. It was the same feeling of guilt I had always felt with Simon, the sense that I was somehow betraying a cause. Deep down, it was the reason I had always fled before my repressed desires, the need to play a part, the role of a strong African American woman. A professional, a partner at a prestigious law firm. A role model to be followed. There had never been any room for kink or for exploration, there had never been the option. I had built my whole life on the image of what I must be, and had never allowed room for what I was.

I understood Corrie's feeling, but all the same was surprised by what happened next. Once more she pulled my head away from her sweet pussy, but now she forced me to turn completely, so that I was on all fours and facing away from her.I was surprised when I felt her fingertips began to stroke my aching pussy, surprised and extremely grateful. I was desperate for her touch. I made a sound which I can only describe as a purr, and it made Corrie laugh for a little while before she spoke again.

"As you can imagine, my first instinct was to confront her...to throw those pictures in her face and scream at her...but how was I supposed to do that to my own Grandmother? I wanted to yell and scream and demand answers, but there was nothing in my life that had ever prepared me to have a conversation like that with her...so do you know what I did Mom?"

I had no answer. My whole concern was for the two fingers which she had slid inside of me, the way her knuckles brushed lightly against my exposed and needy clit. Her thumb which slowly and deliberately traced round and round my tight asshole, and I was bucking back against her hand, greedy, wanting more.

"I decided I would find the woman in the photographs. I would find the woman and I would confront her. After all, she was the one on top. She was the one doing that to Nana...I wanted to imagine that it had been some sort of trick, or blackmail that allowed it to happen. Another woman...a white woman of all things. And it took some time. It took quite a bit of effort, because it wasn't like I could just ask Nana, was it? But of course, I found her. You raised a very determined little girl."

"Tell me Mom, what do you know about Susana Collins?"

I might have spoken. I opened my mouth to give some response but all that came out was a helpless and giddy whimper, for Corrie chose that exact moment to press her thumb past the resistance of my bud and began to slowly probe my most intimate area. I was torn between the realm of memory and reason and the flooding pleasures of my body, and the pleasure overwhelmed all else.

This alone was shocking to me, as I had never in my life imagined I would respond so strongly to being penetrated in my ass...indeed the sensation was not wholly one of pleasure, any more than it had been when Simon had been ordered to fuck me there. No, it was more the idea of it, the wantonness,the complete debauchery wrapped in such an ugly act. I found an awful freedom there, as Corrie drove her thumb deeper and began to slowly piston in and out in time with the fingers in my soaked and slurping pussy.

Susana Collins? I did not have time for Susana Collins. Some white woman who had fucked my mother with a strapon and the strangness of that idea was hardly even notable in my present circumstances.

But Corrie went on, and the way she spoke was as if she was reading from a press release.

"Susana Collins is the descendent of one of the oldest Tidewater families. A Daughter of the American Revolution, she can counts both George Washington and Thomas Jefferson as distant relations in her family tree. Her town house in Fredericksburg is listed on the Virginia register of Historic sites, and her families old plantation land is currently being considered for purchase by the Federal Government, to be made into a national park."

The name still seemed familiar, but nothing Corrie was saying was as interesting to me as the sensations coursing through my body in that moment. I was on the very edge of orgasm, could feel the pressure building deep inside of me, waiting to explode. Corrie clearly sensed it to, sublime in her exquisite timing, and with her free hand she began to tickle the outer folds of my pussy, flicking and teasing the sensitive nub of my clit, forcing me closer and closer. I bit my lip to keep from pleading with her. I had enough sense by then of my role and of her pleasures to sense the trap that was forming. The endless tease and the denial, the delicate force of pleasure followed by the refusal to push it to that sweet limit which my body craved.

Yet I knew nothing. Nothing at all.

For even as a shut my eyes tight against the building sensation, even as I bit my lip to keep from pleading, Corrie leaned forward in her chair. I felt her hot breath upon my neck and in my ear, as she whispered to me.

"Susana Collins' family, they owned slaves. Susana Collins' family owned ours."

And I opened my mouth to scream, even as her probing fingers forced my body past that edge and I came, my cunt in flood of anguish, of relief and sublime horror.

At the time I could not have put those moments, that horrifying feeling, into words. I can only do so now in the most basic sense. How to convey the total wreckage of your own mind? A psyche fractured not only by shame and pleasure but also by the deeperst horror, hatred, revulsion? To have an idea forced into my head, a sickening image of my proud strong mother being ravished by a woman whose family had owned our own, to see that to, to know it, and all at at once to cum screaming beneath my daughter's touch. What was left of me at that moment?

I remember trying to crawl away, some animal instinct to escape the predicament I had been placed in, but Corrie leapt upon y back and bore me down. Held me there, beneath her, and she neither ceased her attentions to my pussy and ass nor ceased to his those vile truths into my ear.

"I sought her out. I knocked on her door. Confronted her, Mom. It was awkward but I got the whole story in the end. How they'd grown up together...your grandmother was kept on as a maid at the Collins place, and Susana and Nana were raised together...as close as sisters. Closer, in some ways."

I tried to shrug her off but it was no use. My daughter was now sawing in and out of my soaking sex with three fingers, and the thumb in my ass was driving me wild. I came again, a wet explosion that soaked my thighs and the carpet beneath me, the scent so potent that it seemed to fill the whole of the living room, and still Corrie did not cease.

"Ooo...what a good little bitch you are. You cum so easily Mamma. I'm surprised. I would have thought it would bother you...knowing that your mother liked to get plowed by a rich white lady...a regular Slave Owner you might say. But I've got to say, it dosn't seem to bother you. You're a better woman than me Mom. It bothered me a lot. Oh, you have no idea how disgusted I was as Ms. Collins laid the story out for me."

"How Nana helped her dress for a debutante ball...How sometimes they kissed and sometimes they did more. Eighteen year old girls, with no sense of the world, giggling and fingering each other in the servant rooms of some Tidewater mansion. But of course that couldn't last, oh no. Ms. Collins was a rich white Lady. An heiress...she couldn't have some lesbian fling with the daughter of the help. That would be...what's the word she used? Oh yeah, Untoward."

"Not that she wanted to stop...oh no, Ms. Collins didn't want to stop at all. She just wanted to...redefine the relationship."

I was coming again...God help me, but I was coming again, squirting a geyser helplessly from my ravaged sex, my head flooded with images of Corrie, of my mother, of the shadow of Susan Collins. If I could have caught my breath, if I could have pierced together the fragments of my mind enough to speak, I would have begged Corrie to stop in that moment. I would have begged her to stop pleasuring me, or to stop speaking. I could handle one or the other, but not both at the same time. I needed time, I needed to breath, I needed something. I was overwhelmed with emotion and sensation and at the same time I was helpless, pinned, pleasured, tortured all at once.

But that was the point. I understood it on some level then, even as I know it clearly now. That Corrie had me exactly where she wanted me, and we were well past the point of stopping. There was no stopping, there was no turning back. There was no freedom, no safety net. I was nothing but a slave. I had given myself to my daughter and that was all she wrote. Any plea I might have voiced would have been as futile as Simon's, lying caged and butt fucked, sobbing on the floor.