by Ella Ford
Katherine turned to face the two girls. “I’d like to see you kiss each other,” she said, in a perfectly off-hand way, a tone that a person might use when asking child to clean their rooms.
To my surprise, Charlotte and Jennifer responded immediately to the request, dropping their arms from behind them and turned to face each other. The taller of the two, Charlotte, took a step forward and threaded a slender arm around Jennifer’s waist, pulling the girl towards her. Without hesitation, the two girls cocked their heads and pressed their lips together. As I watched, they kissed deeply. I saw their tongues flicking out to meet between them, then roll together hungrily. Charlotte’s hands roamed across Jennifer’s body, over the rise of her hips, around to her pert ass where she squeezed roughly before moving up to cup the other girl’s breast in her palm.
It was intensely erotic and I found myself unable to look away. The two girls were utterly lost in each other and kissed without a hint of modesty or apprehension. They were simply carrying out their mistress’s wishes. I turned back to Katherine.
“I-I’m not sure this is necessary…” I stuttered as the two maids continued to grope and paw at each other.
Katherine smiled back at me. “Perhaps not. But, I think you’ll agree, highly enjoyable nonetheless.”
“It’s… I… It’s not really…” I struggled to find the words.
“Oh come now, Cassandra. We’re all friends here.” She turned to the girls once more. “Girls, undress each other and continue kissing.”
The girls responded immediately and released each other. I could hear that they were both breathing heavily and detected sly glances between them. Despite their meek obedience, it was increasingly clear that both of them were enjoying this immensely. I felt a stab of curiosity. What must it be like to be them? To submit totally, to be a willing plaything? I will admit, the idea didn’t sound entirely unappealing. There was a certain attractive quality to such a submission, to choose a path where the shackles of responsibility are lifted from you and you are free to simply obey and experience.
Jennifer spun on her precarious heel and reached behind herself to move her long ponytail from her back. Charlotte reached forward and tenderly unzipped the other girl’s dress, then slowly eased it down her body and over her hips. The dress fell to the floor and Jennifer casually stepped out of it and kicked it to behind the sofa. Her body was magnificent. She was wearing neither panties or bra, and her breasts hung free, perfect orbs of flesh that were neither too small nor too large, with small, pink nipples that were hardened with arousal. I noticed that she wore hold ups, rather than pantyhose, and that a perfectly straight seam ran up the back of her calf and thigh and ended at the lace top of the stockings.
I realized that I was staring at the naked girl, and struggled to look away, but found that I couldn’t.
She turned to face Charlotte and motioned for the other girl to turn around as well. I caught sight of her pussy. I gasped involuntarily as I noticed that she was perfectly bald, her mound a hairless slit that was unblemished and utterly devoid of stubble. I found myself experiencing two conflicting emotions - a curiosity about how she got it so neat, and an unfamiliar longing that was more primal and raw. I pushed the feeling to the back of my mind and watched as Jennifer undressed Charlotte.
Charlotte was slightly more curvy than Jennifer, with fuller breasts, but she was in no less perfect physical shape. I noted, distantly, that her pussy too was perfectly smooth. Was there a house rule or something?
The two girls finished undressing, then immediately turned to face each other and recommenced their tender kiss. This time, they pulled each other closer than before, seeming to relish the feeling of the other’s soft skin against their own. I watched, transfixed, as their breasts squashed together between them and wondered, idly, what that must feel like.
“The simple truth, Cassandra, is this.” I realized that Katherine was speaking to me from far away. Shaking my head, I forced myself to look away from the sapphic tryst that was unfolding before me and dragged myself back into the conversation. “There are certain girls who, by their nature, wish to be owned. Charlotte and Jennifer are but two. The other girls of the ‘Foster Six’ are similarly inclined. And so, I made them each an offer. Come and work for me, as my maids. Submit to me, serve me, obey me without question and they would never have to worry about the annoying minutiae of everyday life ever again. Do you understand?”
I nodded mutely, longing to turn back and continue watching the two girls.
“Charlotte,” said Katherine, “eat Jennifer’s pussy.”
The girls stopped kissing and Charlotte spoke, “Yes, mistress.”
Jennifer moved first, lowering herself to her knees, then shifting to lie on her back on the plush carpet. She stretched herself out and raised her knees, parting them to reveal herself to the other maid. Without a single blush of modesty, she reached her slender manicured fingers between her legs and spread her pussy lips wide. From where I sat, I could see that the soft pink flesh of her labia were glistening with her hot wetness.
Standing above her, Charlotte gazed down hungrily, a look of unbridled anticipation in her eyes. She seemed to smoulder with longing, and eventually appeared to give in to her desires. She too dropped to her knees, and placed a hand on each of Jennifer’s parted legs. For the briefest of moments, a look flashed between the two girls. I caught this glance and struggled to understand it. It was a look of both hungry desire and total affection. Whatever the nature of their arrangement with Katherine Foster, the two girls were clearly utterly willing and entirely satisfied with it.
Then without further hesitation, Charlotte dipped her head down and plunged her tongue into Jennifer’s waiting pussy. The effect on Jennifer was electric, almost tangible, even from across the room. The petite brunette tensed her entire body and flung her head back as Charlotte began her work.
I looked on, a vague feeling of embarrassment and intrusion giving way to an intense curiosity that coursed through my entire body. I watched as Charlotte coiled her arms around the other girl’s thighs and tightened her grip, a sapphic cobra snaring its willing prey. She pulled herself closer in, the rhythmic bobbing of her head quickening as her attention intensified. Jennifer's back arched upwards and she dropped her hands down onto Charlotte’s head, gripping her tightly and urging her onwards.
I glanced around, and found Katherine was watching the performance with as much interest as I was, occasionally taking a small sip from her scotch. She appeared to be utterly engrossed, her eyes filled with a hungry longing that betrayed the look of perfect composure on her otherwise stoic face. I wondered what it must be like to be her, to have such latitude and freedom to use these perfect creatures as she saw fit.
I turned my attention back to the writhing girls on the floor beside me. Jennifer was now gripping Charlotte’s head tightly and grinding her hips against the other girl’s face. She was frantic and Charlotte seemed perfectly happy to surrender to Jennifer’s whims. As I watched, Charlotte reached upwards and grabbed Jennifer’s breast, squeezing the rigid nipple between her thumb and forefinger. This caused Jennifer to howl with ecstasy and her entire body shook.
I suddenly became aware that I had moved. My hand had come to rest on my lap and I was idly applying pressure to myself through the thin material of the linen pants that I was wearing. I realized that I was responding to an intense warmth in my own pussy, a warmth that was building with every second that I watched the maids perform for us. The feeling was familiar, the primal warmth of lust, yet utterly unfamiliar at the same time. I felt a subtle flush spread across my chest and up my neck and I began to feel lightheaded and distant. Suddenly, I couldn’t take my eyes off the sprawling girls. The pert rise of Charlotte’s bottom; the heaving of Jennifer’s chest as the intensity of Charlotte’s attention fired her passions; her long, long legs, now wrapped around the other girl’s head in a vice like grip.
My wandering mind began to picture myself in place of t
he two girls. To be prone and exposed, performing for complete strangers. To feel another girl’s eager tongue lapping at my pussy, flicking my clitoris and devouring my wet flesh. To taste a woman in her most private place, to drink deeply from the cup of her lust. Oh god, I was so fucking horny. If the Charlotte and Jennifer had set upon me at that second, I would have been utterly unable to resist them and would have given my body to them freely, theirs to do with as they pleased. To submit…
The thought was interrupted by the low moan of Jennifer’s building orgasm. At once, her breathing changed and came in short gasps. Her body tensed and she tightened her grip around Charlotte’s head with her thighs.
“Oh god, oh god, oh yes!” she cried, then released herself into the climax. Her head rolled backwards, then thrashed from side to side and her back arched. Then at once, she relaxed and her body went limp. Her arms fell to her sides and her legs fell apart, releasing Charlotte. She lay back with her eyes tightly closed, breathing heavily. The other girl cautiously crawled up her body and tenderly kissed her lips. With lazy motions, Jennifer responded by licking Charlotte’s mouth, hungry for the taste of her own pussy. Then the two collapsed together, bodies entwined.
For an unknown time, there was silence in the room, then Katherine cleared her throat and spoke quietly. “Very good. Thank you girls, that will be all for now.”
Charlotte and Jennifer stood briskly, their flushed faces weary and their makeup smeared by their mutual attention. They hurriedly gathered their clothes together and left the room, closing the door behind them.
I turned my attention to Katherine and opened my mouth to speak, not entirely sure what I was going to say. Katherine raised a single finger to her mouth and stopped me in my tracks.
“Now, to business,” she began.
I waited, unsure of what she meant. The story was clear. There was no wrongdoing here as such. The girls had willingly entered into this strange, compelling arrangement, for reasons that I think I understood now. What more business could there possibly be?
“As my email stated,” Katherine said, her voice calm and measured, “I want you to tell my story. The demonstration here today was for that purpose. So that you can tell the world that their is no coercion or kidnapping or people trafficking. The girls are here of their own free will, and the arrangement is quite amicable for all parties.”
“Yes, I see that now,” I replied, truthfully.
“But there is more. While I want you to tell my story, I also want you to tell another story. I want you to tell your story.” She paused and allowed me to take this in.
“I-I’m not sure what you mean? What does my story have to do with it?”
“You see, Cassandra, I didn’t select you randomly from the countless hacks in this fair city of ours. I didn’t want just any reporter to interview me and tell my story. I selected you especially.”
I looked at her quizzically, having not the faintest idea what she was talking about.
“Do you see yet? That the girls in my service and you have something in common. You’re all attractive, talented, intelligent, to be sure, but there’s something else. Have you ever wondered, Cassandra, why your career is going nowhere? Why you are willing to take shit from everyone who offers it to you? Taking the weakest of stories, the ones no-one else would touch. Yet you take them without question, obediently doing your duty, serving your masters at the newspaper.”
A dawning realization hit me, a shaft of light illuminating my understanding as I began to see why I was sitting here, talking to someone like Katherine Foster.
“I want you to write your story, Cassandra Cook. The story of your submission to me. The story of becoming a maid, a plaything, an object in my possession. I want you to chronicle this with as much honesty as you can muster. Do I make myself clear?”
My mind was racing as I struggled to absorb what she was asking of me. The situation was escalating out of my control and I found myself longing to stand up and leave immediately, telling this woman where she could stick her offer. Yet my body remained motionless and I came to realize that this longing was distant and indistinct, clouded in the fog of confused longing from the demonstration. All the while, my thoughts returned to Charlotte and Jennifer, and Elizabeth before them. The blank, expressionless way that they had followed their instructions; the intensity of their passions together; their soft, yielding bodies. And I began, slowly, to come to a profound epiphany. I didn’t want to turn and run away. I didn’t want to be free of Katherine Foster and her peculiar arrangements. I wanted to submit, to give myself.
“Yes… mistress. Quite clear.”
Chapter 3
Katherine Foster sat back in the sofa and studied me, as if looking for signs of doubt or a wavering uncertainty. I straightened my back and waited for her to speak again. In time, she reached forward and took hold of the tiny silver hand bell that had summoned Charlotte and Jennifer. She rang it again, ding ding ding. The sound was small and indistinct, but sure enough, the double doors to the room swung open and one of the girls entered. I wondered if they were gathered outside the room waiting to be summoned. Was this still part of the demonstration? A display of the girls’ obedience to their mistress?
This time, it was Elizabeth that entered, the girl who had answered the door when I first arrived. She stepped across the room briskly and took up position at the end of the sofas in the same pose as the girls before her - legs apart, arms folded behind her back, expression blank and compliant.
“Elizabeth, Cassandra here will be joining our little family,” said Katherine in a treacly voice that oozed contempt and sarcasm, “I’d like you to take her to the maid’s quarters and see that she is prepared and properly dressed. I will require you both in the drawing room tonight for playtime.”
A distant part of me wondered what playtime was, and I gazed at Elizabeth for signs of a clue. Maybe it was my imagination, but I swear I saw the stoney expression on the girl’s face fade briefly to betray another emotion. What was it? I can’t be certain, but it seemed like a flash of annoyance or resentment. It lasted for only a split second and then was replaced by the blank mask of compliance once more. I thought no more about it.
Elizabeth turned to me and held out a hand. As I was standing to join her, Katherine spoke once more, her voice laced with venom and her face held in a deadly glare that made a brief shiver run up my spine. “And Elizabeth, one more thing. Do not try anything with Cassandra. If you lay so much as one whore finger on her pretty little cunt, I’ll have you flogged every night for a week. Do I make myself quite clear?”
Elizabeth appeared to blanche before her mistress’s gaze, but quickly recovered her composure and nodded briskly.
“Speak up girl!” spat Katherine, raising her voice and piercing the silence of the room.
“Y-yes, mistress,” stuttered Elizabeth, then pulled me by the hand and we walked out of the room.
---
Elizabeth half led, half dragged me through the mansion, pulling me through doorways and down corridors. I was struck by the size of the place, how much like a maze the endless series of interconnected rooms seemed. Each space was slightly different to the last, but always finely decorated in a vintage style that screamed wealth and opulence. Yet there was an underlying theme to the decor that was subtle and took me several moments to place.
Every painting, every ornament, every single piece in the vast house had a dark undercurrent to it, a sense of surrender or submission. On one wall, there was huge painting of a greek general, naked but for a loin cloth. At his feet kneeled a naked girl, her head bowed forward and eyes lowered. Around her neck was a collar and a leash that the general gripped with steely resolve. In another room, a marble plinth was topped by a sculpture of a pair of hands, together at the wrists, fingers folded into tight fists. Around the stone wrists was a red satin cord, tied in a dainty bow.
Taken in isolation, each piece might have seemed to be quite innocent. A little dark and eccentric, yet not
excessively so. But seen in context, the endless collection of sadistic artifacts was overwhelming and quite disturbing and made me feel deeply apprehensive.
I’d agreed to Katherine Foster’s - I mean, the mistress’s - offer to write a story, and as this long-legged servant girl led me through this museum of perversion, I began to wonder if any story was worth it, if even the Pulitzer prize was worth putting myself in this degrading position. I stopped the train of thought and scolded myself for the lie. I didn’t agree to the mistress’s offer just to write a story. If I’m perfectly honest, the idea of writing a story or winning a Pulitzer prize hadn’t even crossed my mind. No, the simple truth is that the idea of submission had appealed to me in a way that I could not have anticipated. The sight of Charlotte and Jennifer obeying without question, pleasuring each other without hesitation, had awakened something inside me that had always been present, yet never acknowledged. I wanted this, I wanted to be used and owned, to be possessed in body and mind, to give myself to another.
And as I walked through these endless rooms and corridors, past the mistress’s collection of bondage memorabilia, what I was feeling wasn’t intimidation or apprehension. It was excitement.
