Dallas Mayo: Girl-crazy girl

"Don't worry, I'll give her a try. Gladly. Isn't it nice to have such a terrific little slave-girl?"

I suppressed a groan of anguish and went on with my obsequious performance. Right to the bitter end. But I couldn't suppress the emotional turmoil within me. Was I really supposed to be a slave-girl? Oddly enough, I hadn't minded that so much, not until Fleur had bragged about my ability as an ass-licker. That should have been a secret between us, the secret core of our love. And now there was nothing left, nothing but a poor hired servant with two bosses. A slave with two mistresses. At least that was the future I saw for myself here in this madhouse. Fleur must have been insane to think I'd succumb so easily, Amanda sounded insane talking about me like that – a terrific little slave-girl – almost as if I couldn't hear her. Some compliment! Insane…

And me? Am I going insane, too? Will I spend the next party looking for more assholes to try my slavish tongue on?

That was when I made up my mind to leave. Only the decision wasn't enough, I figured – I had to make a commitment too, a firm and irrevocable commitment. And shortly after the three-in-bed session ended, I got to a telephone and called my father, person-to-person, collect, and told him to expect me home soon.

On the following afternoon I paid a social call on my new friend Estelle Kincaid. We kissed upon greeting and she led me to her bedroom, plucking at my clothes and discarding hers at the same time. Her lips were damp and quivery. There was a glazed look in her eyes, a familiar look now, and I was in no hurry to say anything about riding to Springfield with her. Why not let her beg me some more; wasn't it fun last time?

Slowly, quite gracefully for such a plump woman, she sank to the floor and pressed her mouth to my bare feet. Twice. One long and meaningful kiss upon each. Then, almost like a huge house pet seeking approval, she came out of the low crouch and peered up at me with big brown eyes that practically oozed devotion.

"So?" I patted the top of her head. "So we're together again and nothing is changed?"

"Nothing. I'm still your slave."

I stroked her cheek, inching backward toward the bed. She caught my hand and kissed it; then, shuffling along on her knees, she licked my fingers and took them into her mouth. I reached the bed and sat down, excitement bubbling inside me. She was breathing heavily now, a ragged rhythm, and I saw her tits swelling and stiffening, the nipples all but crying out for some kind of martyrdom. Or so it appeared to me. And I was right, of course – she gasped in sudden pleasure as my hand reached out and squeezed the massive mounds of flesh. I pinched cruelly, testing my own strange tendency, my need to hurt and humiliate, a need that could only have been aroused by her obvious masochism.

She flinched. But it was no more than an instinctive reaction, and she made no real effort to back away. Even with my fingers mauling her breasts fiercely, there was only resigned submissiveness in her expression. Which only excited me all the more, naturally, and at last I sagged backward on the bed and muttered a sharp command to stir my slave to action.

I got action, all right. Even as she moaned her gratitude, my cunt became a mouthful and her tongue managed to rasp across something sensitive down there. Her face wedged into me, into my cunt-lips, nudging my thighs apart with the pressure of her cheeks, such a soft and gentle pressure! As if I had become an object of worship and she didn't dare profane my flesh with her hands. And meanwhile that tongue of hers, that big fat tongue, was busily sending me into a hot spasm of twitching and throbbing.

Wide open now, I arched up to meet her halfway, smearing my cunt into her face, up and down and all around, bringing us together in a nice cunty intimacy. And still that remarkable tongue went on, fucking me now, fucking the sweet shit out of me, and I grabbed a handful of hair and stuffed her head in deeper and had myself one grand and glorious climax as she stayed there, buried and still worshipful, even after my grip slackened…

We talked after a while, lying there naked. Estelle was happy to learn that I'd be riding home with her. But she was disappointed when I refused to become her permanent guest. She even wanted the redecoration of her house to suit me.

"Especially the bathroom, darling." She had that coyly lewd look again. "Mink for your royal bottom?"

I grinned. "In that case, I'll be visiting you often. But please don't ask me to live with you, hmm? I've got to go home, my own home – some unfinished business to take care of…" Then, as though speaking the hated name aloud would give me courage for the coming ordeal, "Some unfinished business named Darlene."

"Who?"

"Darlene. My new stepmother."

"Oh. I wonder…" Estelle shook her head. "Still, it really isn't that impossible a coincidence. Tell me something dear, is your father in the television business?"

"Uh-huh."

"And your stepmother – is she tall and slim and blonde?"

"You – you know her? That slinky bitch?"

"I know her. I know her well. She's one of us – a good friend of mine, actually, although she prefers young girls. A bitch, sure enough – likes to use a whip, you know? As a matter of fact, she used to teach in a school for wayward girls. Handy with the whip. Or a hairbrush over a bare ass. If it's the same Darlene…"

"Did she – did she ever whip you?"

"I shouldn't answer that. But I did say we were pretty close; I guess that's answer enough. Ooooh, I remember…"

"No! Don't tell me anymore. No more talk, you hear? I'll give that mouth of yours something better to do."

"Darling. Your cunt."

"Not there. My ass!"

"Darling!"

She didn't have to move. I just raised up a little and plunked my butt down on her face. The response of her tongue was immediate and unstinting, right up my asshole. I slapped her cunt, feeling the wet flesh squish under my palm. I clutched the patch of hair and twisted. A groan of pain sounded from underneath my body and the big fat tongue increased its thrust noticeably.

I was only working off my anger, of course, trying to compensate for the ugly trick that fate had played upon me. Then again, maybe it wasn't so ugly; after all, finding out that my stepmother was a lesbian had given me a certain advantage. Or had it? Oh, if only I hadn't spoken those bitter words to her! Kiss my ass. How soon would it be before the sadistic bitch had me kissing hers?

Perched on my slave's face, I went to work on the cunt that was so open and vulnerable to my attack. I pinched and slapped it and pulled the hair, still struggling to vent that harrowed feeling, the pent-up rage. And now I was rocking my body hard upon the upturned face, jamming my cleft buttocks down around it, making her a prisoner of pain. It didn't help much. Except that I knew it would be nice to have Estelle available like this while going through my ordeal with Darlene. Some of the wicked Morlock mood to sustain me through my Eloi tribulations. Oh yes, I was a girl-crazy girl, sure enough, but my perversion went a lot deeper. Even now I was conscious of a special tingle of anticipation, an awareness of my own vulnerability. Would that slinky blonde bitch really make me kiss her ass? Would she beat me? Oh shit, I'd probably wind up kissing her ass and loving it!

I shuddered exquisitely. Even the idea of a whipping…