1 comments/ 144289 views/ 11 favorites A Mother's Painful Duty By: Cate To Katie who read parts 1 & 2 and gently insisted she wanted more, this story is dedicated with love. Her word is my command. * * * * * The two sisters went out to the kitchen where a pizza and freshly poured glasses of red wine awaited them on the scrubbed pine table. Although Jennifer Armstrong was twenty-seven and Emily twenty-two, they were only permitted a single glass of wine each on special occasions. Their mother had retired early, saying she was not in the mood for smalltalk and, as she would be watching television in bed, they should be careful to make no noise to disturb her. "Oh Mother, Mother - sometimes I really do hate her," Emily said. She had auburn hair and pleasantly freckled skin and wore no makeup.. Jennifer had her hair pulled back in a severe bun and she also wore neither lipstick nor eye shadow, although Emily knew she could look quite glamorous when she got the chance. "I told you she'd win," Jennifer said, frowning slightly and blinking as she moved position on one of the kitchen stools. "I had all the arguments," Emily said. "I'd even spoken to Dr Mappamundi about it. It was she that urged me to give it a whirl. I mean, this is the twenty-first century, isn't it?" "Your Philosophy professor, right?" Jennifer said. "Still got a crush on her?" Emily blushed. "Oh no. Well, not really. I do like her, though. There's this guy I'm seeing...was seeing, I suppose. I sort of... sort of though I might persuade Mommy to let me ..." "Sort of.... go out with him?" Jennifer said mockingly. "Don't make me laugh." "What's wrong with that?" Emily said indignantly. "There's nothing wrong with it. You'll just have to do it behind her back, is all," Jennifer said. "It's time I moved out," Emily said. "But she won't hear of it. You're so lucky." "You think so? Jennifer said, getting painfully to her feet. She lifted her dress at the back and, below her sensible cotton pants, Emily could see her buttocks and upper legs looked angry and raw. " Jennifer!" she said. "Why?" "Jeff heard that I was looking at another man. It's true, but I was only looking... we were at a church barbecue last week. It seems his wife isn't allowed do even that. "And then," she dropped her voice, "the bastard... he rang Mommy." "Oh my God. That's terrible. I thought… when you got married." "No. Almost every time I've been here. I've been here for a reason. I was.. summoned here to-day for one of Mommy's "discussions"." "Was it bad?" Emily asked. "Bad enough," Jennifer said. "I tried to argue my case, but you know how she is. She turned those blasted big eyes of hers on me and started talking in that low, very pleasant voice, demolishing all my arguments. I didn't know what had happened until I was already over her knees. I can never make out whether I'm over her knees because she's won the argument, or if it's the other way around. To-day she..she used the b..b..brush on me," Jennifer began to weep and Emily got off her stool and went to her, holding her in her arms. "How has she such power over us?" Jennifer said. "Why can't we just walk away from her..She even chose my husband for me." "She's so strong-minded,"Emily said. " Is she not, well.... weird?" "Hush, we shouldn't say that. She is our mother. Hey, I'd love another glass of wine," Emily said. "Don't even think about it," Jennifer replied, sniffling, beginning to laugh through her tears. "Tell me about you." "Well, I've been involved in student campaigns with Dr Mappamundi." "Oh, you have eh? My, my, little Emily." "Yeah, Dr Mappamundi's pretty liberal. She's lived with a string of men over the years, but she's also a militant feminist. Mommy's not a feminist, is she?" "Don't make me laugh," Jennifer said. "Mom hates feminists. She says the only freedom they've won is the freedom to be exploited by men. Now women have to go out to work as well as raise kids." "Isn't that a good thing?" "Depends on your point of view," Jennifer said. "Mom never went out to work and she's worth twenty million." Their late father, during a hard-working lifetime in the engineering industry, had patented a couple of valve devices, which continued to deliver a substantial income. This money would come to the girls in due course - If their mother believed them to have been dutiful daughters. "At the moment," Emily said, we're organising a demonstration to gain admittance to a small men-only squash club." "What do you want to do that for?" Jennifer asked. "We don't," Emily laughed. "Dr Mappamundi says women will have to be admitted to membership. The faculty will bend over backwards to be seen as politically correct. They'll have to spend plenty to put in women's showers and rest rooms." "And..?" "Then we'll refuse to use the place anyway, because it's too scruffy." "Brilliant," Jennifer said scornfully. "Anyway, what's this Dr Mappamundi like - apart from a bit nutty, by the sound of her?""" "Oh, about thirty-five. Madly attractive, dresses beautifully, blonde, Takes no shit from anybody." "So, if she's so marvellous, how come your arguments went down like a lead balloon with Mommy?" "Well, Mommy did most of the talking, of course. But I thought I had everything sort of worked out - Dr Mappamundi even rehearsed me in a sort of mock debate - she called it a Socratic Dialogue - and it worked all right with her, no matter what objections she threw at me. Dr Mappamundi said she was convinced.!" "I'll bet she was - listening to her own arguments." Jennifer laughed. "Oh,do shut up, Jenny ," Emily said. Jennifer laughed again and shook her head "I knew I was getting nowhere with Mommy after only a few minutes," Emily said ruefully "and then, when she said we'd finish the discussion with me across her knees, I knew I was finished. In about three minutes she had me undressed and I was jack-knifed across her knees, staring at the bloody carpet." "I can imagine the rest," Jennifer said, standing up painfully "Hell, I don't even have to imagine it." She carried their glasses and empty plates to the dishwasher. "I have to be off early in the morning to get to work from here," she said ."What are you going to tell Dr Mappamundi?" "I don't really want to tell her anything, the way things have turned out," Emily said.I suppose I'll just tell her that Mommy won the argument." "Well, that's the way we usually describe it," Jennifer said. They knew their mother would be turning her light off at ten o'clock. Mrs Adams was a still handsome woman in her early fifties with short grey hair and a beautiful olive skin, which set off her deep brown eyes. She wore a pale blue nightdress with bootlace straps over her attractive shoulders and although Emily had never seen her mother naked, it was obvious through the thin nightdress that her breasts were softly full and beautiful. Mrs Armstrong had made it clear that she could have had affairs or been married a hundred times over if she had wished, but she decided to give all her attention to the upbringing of her two daughters. Jennifer bent to kiss her mother, nuzzling into her soft neck. "Good night. I'm sorry, Mummy." "Good night, Jennifer, dear." "Good night, Mummy, I want to apologise for my behaviour," Emily said, bending to kiss her, her arms resting gently on her mother's beautiful shoulders. She would have loved to melt into her mother's arms, but the only contact she ever had now with her mother's body was when she was being punished. Her mother touched her lightly on the back and this was as near to an embrace as Emily could expect. "Good night, Emily dear." Before turning into the driveway to her own house a couple of days later, Emily noticed where, two houses along, a removal van stood against the kerb and a table and washstand and a couple of kids' bikes had been left on the lawn. This house was always rented and people came and went every few years. It was here her friend Bonny had once lived. A well-brought up child of impeccable parents who had moved in while their own house was being built, Bonny was allowed call to play with Emily when she was around twelve and Emily occasionally allowed to visit at Bonny's house. Bonny was more boisterous than Emily and was just starting to go a little bit wild. Emily, who was feeling the first stirrings of rebellion, encouraged her. Later, Emily in her innocence let slip to her mother something that Bonny had told her with much giggling about snooping on the sex-life of her parents, a concept that had never even occurred to either Emily or, indeed, Jennifer. Mrs Armstrong acted decisively. Emily was punished, but not too severely. A phone call was made to Bonny's mother who called for a long discussion, after which Bonny was handed over to Mrs Armstrong for punishment.. It was even suspected, between Emily and Jennifer, that Bonny's pretty young mother received a practical demonstration of a spanking from Mrs Armstrong, who certainly felt that the girl's mother was at least to some degree at fault for Bonny's behaviour. When Bonny was eventually allowed to come again to play with Emily her demeanour was much less natural and her conversation as bland and guarded as that of a Stepford wife. One July day, when Mrs Armstrong was admiring Bonny's patent leather shoes and beautifully starched cotton dress, Emily was unwise enough to say: "I'll bet your Mom even puts starch in your underpants.!" Bonny was immediately requested to return home and Emily was instructed to follow her mother to her bedroom. After that day she and Bonny saw little of each other and a few months later Bonny's family moved away. The entrance hall of the Armstrong house was large and cold and full of dark, highly-polished furniture, brass urns and oil paintings that faded into the gloomy corners. Against the wall stood four carved ivory elephants, the colour of stained teeth. Emily always thought of it as the sort of place where the remains of an archbishop might suitably lie in state. The maid, who was arranging chilly-looking waxy lilies on one of the hall tables told Emily, with a slight smile on her face, that she was wanted immediately in her mother's bedroom. Emily's mouth was dry as she climbed the stairs and knocked politely on the door. After she received permission to come into the room, her mother said "Please face the wall Emily until I am ready." Emily's throat constricted and her tongue flicked her dry lips. She was frightened. What could have happened? Beside her Emily could see a plain, beautifully cut green dress lying on the bed. On top of the dress was a pale cream-coloured bra and a tiny pair of cream-colored panties, Black knee-length leather boots lay on the floor. She knew that dress, those elegant boots. Then she heard Dr. Mappamundi's voice. It sounded broken and hoarse as though she had been crying. "Emily," a deep sob. Then Dr Mappamundi's voice, still slightly veiled, but clear enough. "Emily, you...you must know the position I'm in." "Mother, what have you done?" Emily almost screamed, horrified, attempting to will herself to turn around, to confront her mother. "Keep facing the wall, Emily," her mother ordered in an dry voice. "Dr Mappamundi," Emily said. "Oh, Dr Mappamundi, I'm so sorry.I'm so ashamed." Part 2 Emily felt tears scald her eyes as she faced the wall. The wallpaper had never looked more hideous. Of course her mother would never allow her to look on a naked body, whether that of a man or woman. Mother quite logically explained the fact that Emily was almost always naked when she chastised her: the removal of every vestige of modesty increased the humiliation, and, after all, humiliation was the most essential part of the punishment, even more than the pain. "You have been disobedient, Emily," her mother's husky, commanding voice came to her. "And Dr Mappamundi must suffer the consequences. "No, Mommy, don't say that, please, I beg you!!" "But perhaps in the long run it's for the best." There was a slight gasp and moan from Dr Mappamundi. "Emily, where is Dr Mappamundi?" Mrs Adams asked "What position does she find herself in?" "She .... Is she across your knees, Mummy?" "Would you find that surprising, Emily?" "Oh, Mommy, please let her go. Please don't hurt her," Emily was frantic with embarrassment. "I think Dr Mappamundi can speak for herself," her mother said. "Emily, perhaps you'll...you'll feel I've let you down," Dr Mappamundi said. "I came here to speak on your behalf. I confess I ...I was somewhat disturbed over what you told me -about how your appeal to your mother had failed." In fact, Dr Mappamundi had been extremely scornful when Emily told her of her mother's powers of argument. They were in Dr Mappamundi's study at the university, Dr Mappamundi smoking a cigarette, her legs in these same elegant boots propped between two piles of books on the worn leather surface of her desk. Emily had tried to explain how her mother could argue a case most cogently, so that Dr Mappamundi had said with a mocking smile on her beautiful lips: "She sounds like a controversialist and logic-chopper of the highest order." This was unusually sarcastic, even for Dr Mappamundi. When asked what College her mother had attended, Emily had to admit that her mother had never been to university, but that she was very well read and informed. "I have little time for auto-didacts," Dr Knapp had said dismissively, crossing her elegant legs and lighting another cigarette. "Your mother's opinions are outrageous and I have by no means decided that I shall not take this matter further." There was a dressing table to Emily's left on which lay her mother's modest cosmetics. It had a three-winged mirror. Emily dared take a glance at one of the mirrors, which was angled so that she could see her mother's erect back. In the bright afternoon sunlight through the net curtains she could see Dr Mappamundi's superb buttocks prominently exposed over her mother's thighs. Exquisitely curved pale cream buttocks, unmarked as yet, but the blonde woman's upper thighs were suffused with a painfully rosy flush. With another slight move of her head Emily could see how Dr Mappamundi's right arm was twisted behind her back and gripped at the wrist by her tormentor. "I'm so, so sorry, Dr Mappamundi," Emily mumbled. "And I so much wanted to meet your mother," Dr Mappamundi went on. "So when she telephoned me.." "Telephoned you?" Emily was terrified. So Mommy knew! Oh, Christ, she'd know about the demonstrations as well. And all Emily's little acts of solidarity with the student body It was too horrible. "I knew she must have a most interesting mind." Dr Mappamundi went on. As indeed she has. We…We had a most civilised discussion " There was a silence, while Emily grew more and more agitated. "You are probably aware what stage we have reached." "Mommy won the argument," Emily said, then added despairingly, " I know that you're just winding up the discussion the way Mommy likes to do, but why are you... why are you in.. in that ..position?" "In the discussion with your mother I certainly had not expected to lose the argument," Dr Mappamundi said in her usual closely reasoned tones" "You were the youngest Philosophy graduate in Lady Margaret Hall," gushed Emily. "Hold your tongue, Emily," her mother interrupted. There was a crack like a pistol shot and a cry of despair from Dr Mappamundi. Mo Mommy was obviously in possession of her ebony hair brush and had just made violent contact with the philosophical buttocks. There were several minutes of gulping sobs, interspersed with pleadings for mercy from Dr Mappamundi, before she was able to continue in faltering tones. "I was, of course, totally wrong in my assumption." "Yes, but..."Emily said, bewildered. "Silence, Emily" her mother said with such a lemony twist of asperity in her voice that Emily's fears for Mommy's helpless prisoner were greatly increased. She was only too well aware how powerless you were over Mommy's knees, your outer arm twisted behind your back and held firmly, with a half-turn to the wrist, a slight but utterly weakening twist which left you completely at her mercy. But then, you were already at her mercy, after she had droned on at you in her deep voice, staring into your eyes so that all resistance was drained out of you and you trembled to do her will. "In view of my erroneous assumption," Dr Mappamundi went on, "I had little difficulty in agreeing to a certain proposition of you mother's." "Oh dear!" Emily said. " She told me that you had eventually accepted her arguments when you made your case to her about your future plans." "Well, yes, that's true. Mommy always wins her arguments with me." "She told me that she had chastised you and brought you to book." "Yes," Emily said miserably, knowing what was coming. "She asked me was I prepared to accept the same terms." "Oh God, no" wailed Emily. "I made the mistake of assuming..... and it is one of my tenets that one should never merely assume... that she had chastised you verbally" "Oh, Dr Mappamundi Emily said. "I'm so terribly sorry.." "Your mother's arguments were in fact irrefutable. She was logical, persuasive and cogent in her reasoning in a way that I, trained in argument, could only listen to in admiration. It was wonderfully well brought home to me how often the ordinary conservative Christian point of view is not well represented in argument nowadays, or goes by default." Emily felt so sorry for Dr Mappamundi, the way she was trying to butter Mommy up like this. Emily could have told her it was totally useless, that the punishment would continue no matter what she said, no matter how much she abased herself. "One forgets" Dr Mappamundi went on, " how cogent, how powerful this point of view, in fact, is. " Three further staccato cracks, which Emily well knew by their sound were made directly by her mother on her victim's buttocks brought a cry of outrage which gradually reduced to fresh pleadings for mercy and agitated but helpless sobbing. "Get on with it, Dr Mappamundi," the older woman ordered peremptorily. "I didn't know you were coming to see Mommy," Emily wailed. "Oh Emily, Emily,"Dr Mappamundi sobbed. "Why didn't you warn me what your mother meant by "chastised" and "brought to book." I have been "brought to book," Emily. I should have been outraged when she ordered me to take off my dress, yet here I am naked and helpless across you mother's knees. I have received the greatest thrashing of my life and you mother refuses to tell me how much more of the same I may expect." "Please, Mommy," Emily begged again, "let her go now, she's had enough.." "I shall be the judge of that, Emily" her mother said tartly. "Now you may go to your room and prepare" "My room?" "You know what I mean, Emily. You have disobeyed me again. You did not convey my sentiments to Dr Mappamundi as I requested. Kindly repair to your room and remove your dress and underclothes and stand in the corner until I come for you." In her own bedroom Emily laid her dress carefully on her bed and a few seconds later her plain white bra and pants were folded neatly on top. She stood in the corner with her head bowed and her wrists crossed submissively behind her. It was cool, almost cold in the bedroom and only the carpet felt comforting under her bare feet. She could feel goose-pimples rising on her skin. She trembled. She could hear the dull buzz of voices, mostly her mother's voice from the room next door, the crack of the hairbrush on Dr Mappamundi's buttocks and her despairing cries. Ten minutes later her mother entered the room and Emily could feel the faint cool movement of air as she passed behind her, taking hold of Emily's wrist as she did so, leading her to the bed where she seated herself comfortably on the edge. Emily turned and lay obediently across her mother's thighs, feeling the rough kiss of the tweed skirt against her skin, the pressure against her bare flesh of the buttons on her mother's garter-straps. Emily's right arm was twisted behind her, gripped firmly at the wrist. A Mother's Painful Duty "It is hardly necessary to go into any further detail as to why you are being punished," Mother said. "No, Mommy," Emily said. . Her womb felt as though it was turning to water. She always felt this same mixture of terror and exhilaration as she lay like this, knowing there was absolutely no possibility of mercy in this position so completely was she in this implacable woman's power. Her mother was using the hairbrush and soon the sound of Dr Mappamundi's sobbing was blocked out by the loud, persistent crack of wood against skin and Emily could not help shrieking with pain. But in a few moments Mother had taken Emily into a state of agony that was almost beyond pain, a dimension of numb defeat where her soul seemed to leave her body and she swooned into a breathless void of subjugation in which she knew she was obliged to beg for mercy with the certainty only of being refused, thus confirming her mother's complete dominion over her and her own perverse joy in her submission. Mother always had this power over her, as though able at will to lead her as a prisoner into a flat, featureless landscape where there was neither desire nor sin nor any will to be free. When her mother finally stopped beating her Emily lay there, convulsed and frantic with pain, barely aware of her mother's breath on her naked back. Her mother released her grip on her wrist and tapped her on the shoulder and Emily immediately struggled to her feet, humiliated that she was unable to resist dancing around the room holding her buttocks, her mouth open in a soundless scream under her mother's cool, sardonic gaze. Later, when she was dressed again, gasping with pain, Emily joined her mother and Dr Mappamundi in the older woman's bedroom. Her mother sat in her armchair looking down at them. Emily and Dr Mappamundi were both in agony and unable to sit down, so that they had to kneel on the carpet, placing the two younger women in an appropriately submissive attitude. Mrs Armstrong had attractive muscular legs, which she crossed elegantly at the knees, showing off her shapely, fine-boned ankles, her skirt neither too short nor too long, riding up just an inch above her kneecaps which glowed faintly through the bronze of her nylons. "Emily, you will be pleased to know that Dr Mappamundi will be staying for a few days," Mrs Armstrong said genially, "while she makes some changes in her domestic arrangements." " Chris and I may get married," Dr Mappamundi said, giving a painful intake of breath as she shifted to a more comfortable position. Chris was her current lover. "Until that time we can no longer live together and I'm going to ask him to move out." She groaned slightly as she got to her feet. "Your mother has rightly pointed out to me the irregularity of my lifestyle. She has also persuaded me that it will be to my advantage if she advises on my conduct on a more long term basis and, to that end, I shall be calling here monthly at least to hold discussions with her." In spite of her pain Emily burst out in despair "No, Dr Mappamundi, No! Even if I am not free, you are. You are a free spirit." "Hush, Emily," Dr Mappamundi said, "You are in good hands." Emily's mother raised her hand to silence Dr Mappamundi and looked at Emily, outraged, her beautiful intelligent eyes flashing with anger Emily dropped her gaze, unable to sustain eye contact with her mother. She couldn't believe what she had done. She hadn't meant to rebel. Although sore, she was always at peace after one of her mother's thrashings, even if it was the peace of utter humiliation and defeat, and knew exactly where she stood. And now she had made this stupid outburst on Dr Mappamundi's behalf. Dr Mappamundi wasn't even on her side now. And her mother abhorred stupidity just as much as disobedience. "To your room, Emily," her mother said. "I find I am not finished with you yet." Part 3 When the Spanish maid carried the second suitcase out to Dr Mappamundi's little car she had a smirk on her face and Emily hated her for it. The hood of the car was up and the handle on the passenger door was still broken, so the maid had to lift the bag over the door onto the seat. When Dr Mappamundi came down the stairs she was wearing no makeup and it was plain she had been crying again. Shamefacedly, she kissed Emily on the cheek, then turned to speak to Mrs Armstrong who pointedly ignored her, turning to arrange the lilies on the massive hall table. Dr Mappamundi's shoulders slumped in defeat, then she turned and went out to her car. Before Emily could follow, Mrs Armstrong turned decisively and pushed shut the massive door, leaving the hall in its usual semi-darkness, only lit by a stair window. The crackle-surfaced oil paintings retired again into the gloom and the row of ivory elephants, the colour of decaying teeth, were still on their long march into the darkness below the stairs. "Thank goodness," Mrs Armstrong said. " Well, nobody can say I have not done my best with her." Dr Mappamundi appeared to have totally forgotten that Mommy never believed herself to be wrong and that when she made her mind up there was no more to be said. Hysterics and crying were not going to make any difference. It was worse than when any of the maids had been sacked. At least none of them had gone so far as to go down on their knees before Mommy. But that is what Dr Mappamundi had done, pulling despairingly at Mrs Armstrong's skirt and then had collapsed moaning on the ground until Mommy had forced her to her feet and given her a stinging slap across her cheek. Dr Mappamundi's humiliating departure from the house had been almost as great a shock as her arrival, Emily thought as she followed her mother up the broad staircase. Outside, the little sportscar had crunched down the drive with a final, defiant spurt of gravel and an autumn gale lashed the trees of the driveway. A grim ivory warrior sneered at Emily from the window embrasure on the stairs. Emily remembered that warm morning late in the Summer. Dr Mappamundi had left the top of the little red sports car down as it stood on the gravel overnight. As Emily tried to open the passenger door, Dr Mappamundi said airily "I think the handle's broken, Emily, just climb over " Emily, wearing a skirt, did not find this easy and Dr Mappamundi zoomed off, spraying gravel from the driveway onto the lawn, while Emily still had one leg hooked over the little door and was trying to arrange her tender bottom onto the leather bucket seat. In some ways it had been very pleasant having Dr Mappamundi staying in the house, although Emily found that the discussions between her mother and Dr Mappamundi were usually a little abstruse.. Dr Mappamundi now swung the little car gaily down the wide, tree lined boulevard, swerved to avoid a refuse lorry, mounted the pavement for a few yards and demolished a two-year old sapling before regaining the road. This morning she was wearing a dark red suit and a white blouse with discreet red polka dots. Not everyone could wear red high heels, but Dr Mappamundi managed it with aplomb. Emily was surprised her mother had not commented, as she would have done with Emily and, after all, Mrs Armstrong had certainly now placed herself in loco parentis to Dr Mappamundi. "Emily," Dr Mappamundi said, as she negotiated one of the narrow side streets near the university, "You're very quiet." "Am I?" Emily said. Dr Knapp glanced at her quizzically "Did something happen last night?" "Such as what?" Emily asked. "Oh, come, Emily, don't play the innocent with me." "I h..heard you and Mommy having an argument downstairs," Emily said."I was in bed, remember..You were discussing...." " Wittegenstein, yes," Dr Mappamundi said impatiently. ""Of what we do not know, therefore we may not speak." But we do know what goes on in that house, don't we." "Did...did Mommy spank you," Emily asked. "I heard you cry out." "Yes, I lost the argument and your Mom spanked me..I have no complaint. I was in the wrong and she totally demolished my foolish arguments. She "brought me to book" as she so delightfully puts it." "Dr Mappamundi, believe me truly, I'm so sorry," Her professor made in impatient gesture as she reversed awkwardly into a parking spot and helped Emily out the door on the driver's side, leaving the car at a forty-five degree angle to the kerb. "No, Emily, I've accepted her right to do that. Don't ask me why. You know we are both now firmly in her charge. But Emily, please say that's all you heard.?" "I thought I heard you crying - after Mommy went to bed..." "And?" "And I. ..I came to talk to you." "Oh my God, I knew it," Dr Mappamundi said. She looked back at the car "Do you think it'll do? Oh, to Hell with it" She leaned over the car to lift a pile of essays and Emily couldn't help looking at her shapely bottom which in turn reminded her of the professor's first visit to the house. "Emily, we can't discuss this properly now. Let me see, I have a free period at half two - can you come to my study then?" "I...I don,t really want to talk about it," Emily said. "Please, Emily," Dr Mappamundi said. "This is monstrously unfair to you. I really am your friend Emily. Perhaps we can help each other in this." Emily had one lecture with her friend that morning, but she studiously avoided eye contact. Dr Mappamundi was less than usually concentrated, although she could often be lured away from the subject in hand by some of the more mischievous students, particularly the female ones. A discussion on Kant and Hegel took a couple of side trips in which Dr Mappamundi's monthly periods and the merits of waxing rather than shaving one's legs were elegantly touched upon. Emily's mind was so far astray that she had later to be recalled twice by the lecturer in her English Literature class. At the time appointed she tapped rather timidly on the massive oak door of Dr Mappamundi's study. When bade to enter she found Dr Mappamundi in her leather armchair, in her stocking feet, one foot balanced on the thigh of her other leg while she massaged her toes gently. Her discarded red shoes with the four inch heels stood together on the desk on a volume of "De Summa Theologica." The rest of the desk was covered with files and books and Dr Mappamundi swept them imperiously to one side. "Emily," she said gravely, "If you know nothing - fine. However, if you do you must prepare yourself for anything your mother may ask you." "But I haven't done anything wrong," Emily wailed. "I'm not for a moment saying anyone has done anything wrong, Emily," Dr Mappamundi said in her closely reasoned way "I do hope you won't think so. However your mother is quite likely to punish you severely if she thinks you know anything. She will prove you to be in the wrong and will not let you jeopardise her position in any way." "I know," Emily wailed in despair. Dr Mappamundi reached across the desk and took the girl's hands in hers "Tell me, Emily." "I went into your room last night. I'm sorry, but you were making a funny noise - I thought I heard you sobbing." Dr Mappamundi's face was paler than before. "The door was slightly ajar. I only looked in. And as soon...."Emily began to sob, "as soon as I s..saw I wasn't...wanted.I...went away." "Emily, to put it bluntly, you saw your mother and I... not to put too fine a point on it, you saw her on top of me, isn't that it?" Emily nodded in dumb misery. Dr Mappamundi rose and crossed the room gracefully, on the balls of her feet like a dancer, to collect a coffee percolator and two cups. When she had poured the coffee she appeared to be considering very carefully what she was going to say. "Last week, Emily, the first time I came to see your mother, you heard me beg her for mercy....." Emily nodded. "And you were there, dear Emily, to witness my humiliation. Somehow...I just about got through it. And there was a certain perverse..." here Dr Mappamundi broke off and began biting the knuckle of her left thumb, a characteristic habit when she was considering a knotty philosophical problem.. "Last night, Emily, your mother took me beyond the point of no return. I was frantic, begging her for clemency but this time I was terrified as well. " Again Dr Mappamundi was silent, deep in thought. "She made me another of her famous propositions. But first she questioned me closely." "I don't understand," Emily said. "She suspected, well more than suspected, and by judicious questioning she established to her satisfaction...." here Dr Mappamundi paused again and made a steeple of her hands as if taking a break for prayer. She could sometimes be maddeningly slow to come to the point and was always so conscious of the need for what she called "cogent reasoning" and "provable propositions" "The fact is, Emily, that she made me admit what I think she already knew ... that I.. well, I had a...a multiple orgasm while I was across her knees last week. Please don't look so shocked, Emily, you know what an orgasm is." Emily nodded dumbly. "I'm not a lesbian, Emily. I did experiment a little as a student and had a brief fling with a female lecturer, but then," she shrugged her beautiful shoulders and spread her hands as if in supplication "doesn't everyone?" Emily stared at her open-mouthed. "Perhaps not" Dr Mappamundi said. "Anyway, Emily, I did not initiate anything, so please don't be so cool towards me. Have you ever succeeded in resisting your mother?" " No, but this is...such a shock!".." "Emily, how shall I put this? Your mother is..." "What?" "She is ... not inexperienced." "My God," Emily buried her head in her hands. Dr Mappamundi had a dreamy look on her face. She crossed her arms in front of her and appeared to caress her neat breasts in their warmth. "I have to tell you this, Emily," she said. "Your mother is a fabulous lover." Emily stared in disbelief. "A somewhat selfish one, perhaps," Dr Mappamundi studied her long red fingernails for a moment, " but so superbly sensitive to...to her own needs... goading, spurring on, as it were... "Dr Mappamundi gulped, ".. that she can drive a lover wild, yes, wild in simply trying to...to satisfy her desires. The overwhelming need to...to give her pleasure then becomes one's supreme desire, a desire that is translated into.... Oh, God!." Dr Mappamundi was for once lost for words, swallowed and licked her dry lips and appeared embarrassed at the way her voice had thickened. "So is it..... going to continue?" Emily asked. Dr Mappamundi thirstily drained the cold dregs of her coffee "If only it would," she said wistfully, taking her red heels from the desk."but she has given me no indication, in spite of my entreaties, that I may merit a permanent place in her bed.". Dr Mappamundi crossed her left leg over her right thigh and slipped on the shoe, then reached for the other one. "For the past week I have had to behave as I were her wilful daughter. " She slipped the other shoe on, then stretched out her feet to inspect them. "Now I fear I may be just her tart!" Part 4 Emily followed her mother into her bedroom where they sat in the bay window, Emily in a window seat and Mrs Armstrong in the throne-like armchair, which she used to keep a watchful eye on the neighbourhood. Emily was frightened, her throat dry, because of the formality with which her mother had ordered her upstairs. "Please, Mommy," she said. "I don't know what I've done, but I'm still very sore." "You have been talking to Dr Mappamundi." Mrs Armstrong said. "Please, Mommy," Emily begged, "I don't listen to everything she says" "Now you are lying as well, Emily." "Mommy, please" "And do you think you know something you shouldn't, Emily?" Emily felt her face blush a furious red. "When your father died, Emily, I could have had almost any man I chose . You know that - I still could. But what did I do? I renounced all personal pleasure in order to bring you and your sister up properly. Is that not so, Emily?" "Yes, Mommy." "You have no right whatever to discuss your mother behind her back, Emily, is that clear?" "Of course, Mommy." Mrs Armstrong crossed her shapely legs with magisterial calm and looked disapprovingly at a tiny piece of lint she picked from her skirt.. "You are well aware there are major financial considerations involved," she said. "I'm sorry I ever let your sister marry that idiot husband of hers who cannot even control her. I do not think I can consent to your marrying at present- certainly not within the terms of my will at any rate.." "Oh, Mommy, really." "You are a pleasant child, Emily, but you are not pretty. Anyone who married you would be doing so for your inheritance. I don't want you to fall prey to fortune hunters." "Whatever you want, Mommy,." " Do you love me, Emily?" "Of course, Mommy." "Have I been harsh with you?" "I deserved it, Mommy, I'm sure I did." "Have I failed you in any way?" "No, Mommy, but..." "Come along, Emily, don't hesitate to point out my shortcomings." "You have no shortcomings, Mommy. It's just that always when I kissed you goodnight, I... I wished you'd put your arms around me - you never hold me. I was never close to you.. except when..." "You know what an orgasm is, Emily?" "I'm not...well, yes, I suppose so," Emily said warily. "Have you ever had one while being spanked?" "Only very little ones, Mommy," Emily said, terrified to lie. If only she could throw herself on her knees and beg her mother's pardon. Emily's mother rose and, motioning Emily to stand, astonished her by taking her in her arms. Emily was enchanted at the softness of her mother's belly and breasts against her, the rasp of her rough tweed skirt against her knees. The adored arms of the mother she had always desperately sought to please enclosed her in warm security. She placed her arms circumspectly around her mother's waist and waited for a further indication of how much affection would be shown. Mrs Armstrong then released her and glanced at her watch. Then she stepped down into the main part of the room and, standing by the bed, she unzipped the top of her skirt and stepped out of it. She was wearing plain white satin panties, and a matching garter belt with narrow straps supported her tan stockings. Her figure was far from perfect. She had a prominent pubis and there was a small, muscular depression around her navel in the soft pumpkin squash of her belly and the narrow underwear straps were etched into her hips and meaty thighs. Only her breasts, when she slipped off her blouse, seemed depersonalised and almost formal in her expensive matching bra. Again she reached out her arms to Emily. Emily revelled again in her mother's embrace, the glorious intimacy of her body. But why had her mother taken off her clothes? And why had she, Emily, placed her hands on the satiny cheeks of her mother's buttocks and not been violently reprimanded for it? Her mother was giving off a strong, feral scent, a rank musk from her armpits and lower body. Her heavy earring grazed Emily's cheek. "Please don't hurt me, Mommy," Emily pleaded as her mother gently removed her dress and brassiere and led her to the bed. Mrs Armstrong released her own her breasts from the pale chalices of her brassiere and bent to release her stockings, then stripped off her garter-belt with a sigh of satisfaction. She removed her bracelets and heavy earrings, dropping them on the bedside table, then lay down beside Emily, taking her in her soft arms. Emily's skin prickled at the intimacy, almost too much to bear after so long without a caress from her mother. They lay side by side and, though Emily several times felt the urge to fondle and nestle closer to her mother, the older woman insisted she remain completely still, so that, after about twenty minutes she felt herself swooning into the most delicious languor she had ever known. Yet the parts of her body not within the older woman's touch were unbearably sensitive and cried out for union. Mrs Armstrong then gave a deep sigh of satisfaction and began to remove Emily's panties, then rolled her on her back in the middle of the bed. Emily felt herself being mounted so that the soft warm squash of her mother's belly pressed down on hers, and her own tiny mound and pubic hair became fused in her mother's moist and swollen sheath and the dark prickle of the coarse hairs of the older woman.. Mrs Armstrong then hooked her feet over Emily's ankles and held her wrists behind her head with one hand. Then, when she had her prize fully secured under her, she reached up with her free hand to hook the plain cotton panties on the brass post of the bed where they hung limply above Emily's head like a flag of surrender. A Mother's Painful Duty Emily felt her mother's fingers on her mouth, probing, then a nipple forced against her lips and tongue. . Her mother guided Emily's jaw so that her tongue was circling the nipple, wetting it and caressing it eagerly. Emily was rewarded with a faint groan of satisfaction. Mrs Armstrong sighed when Emily seemed to tire of her task and grunted with pleasure when the adoration of her swollen breast continued to her satisfaction. Emily was made transfer her attentions to the other breast and her mother lay with her thumbs resting on Emily's closed eyelids and her long fingers probing her ears as though she were invading and taking posession of every one of Emily's senses. Mrs Armstrong then began touching Emily's lips with tiny, dry, pecking kisses. Emily opened her eyes to see that the aureoles of the nipples had swollen to cover as much of the breasts as she could see. Trapped between her mother's thighs, Emily desired nothing but to obey. Ten minutes later, when both breasts were equally engorged and slippery, Emily said, "Can we rest for a moment, Mommy?" "No, Emily," Mrs Armstrong said testily. "If I just wanted a little quick pleasure don't you think I could have managed quite well enough on my own? You must learn to be a little more considerate." Mrs Armstrong began to rock gently to and fro, her belly pressing heavily on Emily's She directed Emily to start kissing her on the neck and throat, All this time Emily was held in a tight embrace in her mother's arms and she took it as perfectly natural that her mother did not otherwise caress her. To be held in her arms, to know she would never be thrashed again was more than enough. Emily had not expected to gain anything more that a feeling of loving intimacy from their encounter nor was she sure that her mother, whatever her own predilections, would altogether approve if Emily showed any pleasure. Emily knew she was being used cavalierly and that her mother's experience must have been provided by the string of carefully chosen foreign maids, none of whom had ever seemed to last very long. There had been a few scenes, nothing as bad as with Dr Mappamundi and most left with new clothes and luggage and satisfied smiles on their faces and, no doubt, a substantial severance payment. How bitter for Dr Mappamundi to become merely the latest of these! Emily began to feel the first fluttering of real desire as her mother, who perhaps now felt herself sufficiently aroused, began to move her pelvis against the body beneath her, slowly and voluptuously at first, pressing Emily down by the shoulders so that Emily shyly grasped her around the waist. Mrs Armstrong gradually increased the pace of her rhythm, so gradually, so utterly at her own pleasure, that it was almost five minutes before she stiffened to a canter, at first effortlessly riding the helpless girl between her legs, then, without warning, beginning to bear down violently, grinding her into the depths of the bed, so furiously that their teeth almost clashed as Emily tried to rear to up to kiss the woman she had now been brought to adore. But Mrs Armstrong did not even see Emily, her eyes were sunk back in her head as she fought towards her orgasm, gasping hoarsely and unashamedly as she thrashed up on down on the girl beneath her, as though intent on conquering her in mortal combat. Emily remembered what Dr Mappamundi had said and felt her own orgasm approaching. Mrs Armstrong was struggling now, frantic for release, her gasping intakes of breath becoming quicker and quicker. Emily almost fainted in passionate surrender and had a long, gently fluttering orgasm as Mrs Armstrong began to gasp hoarsely, then pulled herself up to straddle Emily fully, throwing herself forward to lean on the pillow leaving Emily's face buried deep in her navel. "This can't be happening," Emily thought in wonder. "I am now my mother's tart," as her sovereign mistress lay half across her, her face buried in the pillow to muffle her long drawn out groans of satisfied desire. Part 5 . Emily and Dr Mappamundi embraced and Emily enjoyed the feeling of the fragile bones, the tiny waist as her hand brushed against it, the pressure of the small, perfectly supported breasts under the elegant pale blue suit and the perfectly judged darker blue silk blouse. Dr Mappamundi's green eyes were as enticingly bright as Emily remembered and her blonde hair was as well-groomed as ever. "I thought I would be meeting your mother," Dr Mappamundi said, smiling. "Dr Mappamundi," Emily enthused, "so good to see you." "Please, call me Grace. It's a long time since I was your teacher." "Can I get you anything, Madam?" Carla asked "It's Professor now," Grace Mappamundi said. "Oh, I'll have a gin and tonic, if I may." Emily's dark-haired secretary went to the sideboard and prepared the drinks, a small Scotch and water for Emily and Grace Mappamundi's gin and tonic. Carla was a short, stocky woman with a dark complexion and black eyes. She was casually dressed in a pinafore dress and sneakers and had a comfortable air of efficiency about her. "I'll be at the pool if you want me, madam," she said to Emily as she left the room. "You know it's due to your family – the Armstrong Trust that I've got tenure," Dr Mappamundi said. "The annual bequest is amazing. I know we dealt through your attorneys, but I always assumed it was your mother……… " Emily smiled. "Mother passed nearly everything to my sister and me four years ago in a donatio inter vivos. Well, I got the house and most of the money, because she doesn't trust my sister's husband and anyway he's got plenty" "She is in good health?" Grace Mappamundi asked. "Yes, okay. She had a small stroke five years ago and lost the full use of her legs for a while, but she's fully recovered now." "Oh dear," Professor Mappamundi sighed. "But Emily, my friend, oh my sweet friend," she rose from her chair and bent down to kiss Emily tenderly on the cheek, I owe so much to you." Emily motioned to Dr Mappamundi to sit beside her on the broad arm of the leather-covered armchair. They sipped their drinks contentedly. "So you aren't married?" Emily asked. "No, nothing like that," Professor Mappamundi said "And yourself, Emily? Are you in a relationship?" "No," Emily confessed. "After…well, after you left…remember…I was…well, very much tied up with mother for a while…" Professor Mappamundi looked at her keenly as though wondering how to interpret this. Choosing her words carefully as she always did she said, "And your mother, is she, er? That is an attractive young woman who let me in. Your secretary?" "That's right, she's responsible for the day to day running of the house. I ….Well, I had to take her on a couple of years ago. Up to that I had been doing most of the housework myself.." "You mean you didn't have a maid?" "No, " Emily blushed in spite of herself. She remembered that Dr Mappamundi had been aware of her mother's relationships with a succession of maids. "Mother let the maid go soon after you left." "I see,"Dr Mappamundi said gravely. ""I don't really want to talk about it," Emily said. "Let's just say that Mother and I have always had a rather …stormy relationship. But that part of it is over now." "You were such a nervous child," Dr Mappamundi said. "But you've changed. Is it the money? You look so confident now." "I hope I haven't changed too much," Emily said. "No," Professor Mappamundi said. "Look, Emily, please remember me as your friend. I know you do, and I am not stupid enough to think that the endownment to the philosophy Department is not unconnected to our … our past friendship. But it puts me in an awkward position, as I am speaking to my benefactor….someone who has truly altered my life…." "Dr..I mean, Professor," Emily corrected herself with a smile, "I will never forget how you actually took the trouble to call to this house to speak on my behalf – what you had to go through …at mother's hands… And there is…there is something I want to ask of you." "Please tell me, Emily," Dr Mappamundi dropped to her knees on the floor and clasped Emily's hands. "I would so wish to be able to do anything for you, believe me…" "Well, I don't do much here now," Emily said. "I have the house running the way I want it and beyond choosing the menus and picking flowers for the house and a little gardening, I am an idle bitch. So I thought of continuing my philosophy studies… I mean, I know I got my degree, but I would like to take it much further…" Dr Mappamundi gave a little squeal of delight. "Oh, Emily, how wonderful." She threw her arms around Emily's waist and hugged her tightly. "I don't want you to think, just because I've given all that money…." Emily said. "Emily, you know how I felt about you. I always wanted to…," "I just want to say a bit more about mother," Emily said. "Well, when she got this stroke she had to go to hospital…" Emily still remembered the horror of trying to get her unconscious mother off her and to remove all traces of their lovemaking before calling the ambulance. She had been terrified that her mother might die while she delayed, but she'd put her mother in a bedside chair and changed the sheets and removed her own clothes and underwear from the room before picking up the telephone. "Well, when she came out she'd completely lost her persuasive qualities, her powers of argument. And with it she'd suffered some sort of a personality change, although they couldn't trace any actual brain damage." Emily took Dr Mappamundi's glass to pour her another drink. "Mother hates the taxman more than the devil and she decided to have everything transferred. Well, it meant there was a bit of a shift in power – and she could no longer dominate me – that never came back. In the first few months she couldn't manage the stairs very well, so I converted an old butler's pantry on the ground floor into a bedroom. I put her in there, along with all those damned Chinese carvings from the hall." "The hall seemed much brighter," Dr Mappamundi said carefully. "Yes, I changed the door for a glazed one and had a new window put in on the south side of the house," Emily said. "And what about….?" "Yeah, well, that was the problem. Particularly when she was fully recovered physically. She started bellyaching about the lack of…well, you know. You probably guessed that for a time we…well, we had a sort of relationship. Anyway, I had made up my mind, there was nothing doing." "I see." "She was begging me to even masturbate her, but I felt that was all past tense with me and I refused. I'd hear her crying at night and, in the end, I started interviewing maids. Trying to fix something for her. It was difficult as hell to get it across that I wanted someone who'd sleep with her as well as do the chores. There are plenty of lesbians out there, but Mother's nearly sixty now." Emily crossed to the sideboard and poured herself another drink. "Anyway, out of the blue, Carla turned up. And I immediately found she'd been a maid here before. I barely remembered her but I know there was something different – she was polite enough but she had this sort of "fuck you" look in her eye sometimes. Anyway, it was easy enough to talk with her about the lovemaking bit. She knew what was wanted and don't forget I was able to offer very good money. But I found Carla wasn't quite what I'd expected. She described some of the things they'd got up to way back when. She made certain proposals which, to be honest, turned me on no end. " "But I thought Carla was your secretary!" "Yeah, she works for me, of course. But, well let's say I just pull the strings sometimes. It would work anyway, but having someone else watching and controlling makes it diferent. The effect of the observer, . It's a bit like that…" "Schroedingers cat?" Dr Mappamundi said "Yeah.. Let me show you how it started, the bit Mother doesn't like…" Emily opened a walnut cabinet and selected a labelled videotape which she slipped into a video player under the television set in a corner of the room. "Carla now has the bedroom downstairs and Mother sleeps in a cot in the corner or sometimes Carla takes her into bed. There is a surveillance camera which they are both aware of and accept." On the screen Carla, wearing a wool dress and black woollen stockings, was sitting on an upright wooden chair and beside her Mrs Armstrong was undressing, then, still in her bra, but without her panties she was pulled across Carla's knee. Professor Mappamundi winced as she saw the hairbrush descend with a crack on Mrs Armstrong's defenceless buttocks. The older woman shrieked and tried to struggle, but was firmly subdued by the muscular Carla. Emily switched off. "You get the idea," she said. "Come over here." She again placed her arms around Dr Mappamundi's slender body, feeling the dainty breasts against hers, caressing with her hands the delicate shoulderblades and feeling the narrow bra strap in the delightful hollow of her partner's back. She licked her lips for a moment, feeling her mouth become dry and her throat constrict, then kissed Dr Mappamundi on the full lips, tasting the faint perfume of her lipstick, then, gently, forced her tongue into her mouth. She felt the mouth soften and surrender under hers, the body melt against her. Then she broke away. "Come with me, I want to show you something," she said thickly. They went into the large room which, Emily knew, Dr Mappamundi would recognise as Mrs Armstrong's former bedroom. It was now modernised to Emily's taste with a very feminine and luxurious circular bed, black and orange modern paintings on the walls, and floor to ceiling wardrobes in light wood with mirrored doors. The room had large bow windows to the front, but Emily led Dr Mappamundi to a smaller window which looked out to the side of the house. Below was a large new swimming pool with a lawn to one side on which lay a rug and some cushions. On a reclining chair by the poolside sat a woman with bare breasts, with a sarong around her waist and wearing a sombrero on her head. A maid was crossing the tiled area from the house, carrying a tray with a tall iced drink. The maid in her black dress and white apron was tall and walked gracefully. She had beautiful legs. When she came out of the shadow of the house the sun shone brightly on her face and hair. "Good God, Emily, it's your mother!" Dr Mappamundi said. The woman in the sarong tasted the drink and said something to the "maid" She also pointed to the other side of the pool and seemed to be complaining about a towel that had been dropped there. Her voice was surprisingly angry and it was clear she wasn't acting. Mrs Armstrong, in her maid's uniform, was trying to justify herself . "What makes it really interesting," Emily said, "is that Mother is not always very good in the submissive role. Sometimes she fights back. That's when the fun really starts…" Emily opened the window a crack and they could hear raised voices. Mrs Armstrong appeared to have stopped arguing and now stood with her head bowed while the smaller woman continued to berate her. To Dr Mappamundi's astonishment, Mrs Armstrong began to undress, first removing her apron which Carla ordered her to leave on a chair beside the pool. Then the older woman unbuttoned the top of her dress and stepped out of it. She faltered then, standing in silhouette against the flashing light on the blue of the pool. She was a little plumper than Dr Mappamundi remembered her, her belly a little softer, but she was still magnificent in her satin bra and a tiny pair of white cotton briefs. "Mother adores nice underwear," Emily whispered in Dr Mappamundi's ear, "but when she's in uniform she's always obliged to wear a pair of Carla's cast off panties." Dr Mappamundi gulped. "But why?" "Just to remind her of her position," Emily said. Dr Mappamund felt Emily's arm creep around her waist. She could scarcely believe Emily was doing this. She felt a wave of heat wash over her and knew a question was being asked which would have to be answered very soon. She felt her arousal came mainly from what she was witnessing by the pool, but how was one to tell? And why was she being shown this? Mrs Armstrong was completely naked now and was getting down on her hands and knees on the lawn. It was obvious she had been made to do this many times before. Carla removed her sarong and dropped it on the ground. She was naked beneath. Wearing only the sombrero, she calmly straddled Mrs Armstrong's back and then, once firmly astride, she gripped the older woman's hair tightly with both hands Dr Mappamundi felt a powerful erotic charge run through her as she remembered how Mrs Armstrong had seduced her. Dr Mappamundi, fully aware of her own femininity and attractiveness, had been completely mastered in bed by the older woman and required to serve her sexual needs without respite. She had done this tirelessly, her senses inflamed by the older woman's sexual demands, her own shamefully submissive desires relentlessly exposed. Yet within a week she had been humiliatingly ejected from Mrs Armstrong's bed. And now this proud woman was reduced to being a mount for Emily's servant. The huge shadow of the sombrero almost completely covered Carla and the straddled woman beneath her, but as the shadow moved, Dr Mappamundi could see the heavy black bush between the naked rider's legs as she guided her mount from the lawn onto the tiles with her heavy thighs. Mrs Armstrong was obviously finding the tiles painful under her knees and had slowed almost to a stop, but Carla drove her on pitilessly with resounding slaps to the buttocks. Every faint protest from Mrs Armstrong was answered with a slap from her powerfully built rider who now, legs stretched forward and heels resting on the tiles, was forcing her mount to pick up the neglected towel with her teeth. Dr Mappamundi watched Mrs Armstrong try to turn back, the towel gripped between her teeth and trailing along the ground, Carla's heavy white buttocks still firmly controlling her, then the older woman could go no further and, under a torrent of abuse from Carla, slid forward to lie face downward on the tiles, the implacable Carla still sitting astride her. Dr Mappamundi had turned to snuggle deeply into Emily's arms. Emily now quite boldly forced her tongue into her friend's mouth, pushing it right back as far as her throat, almost making her gag. I'm not going to say "no" Dr Mappamundi thought, as she felt Emily's hand on her thigh. But did I decide that now, or when I first came in? This girl needs me, Dr Mappamundi told herself, but also remembered the possibly subjectivistic theories (according to some interpretations) of Kant and Hobbes. "This is good" can be analysed into "I desire this." Are ethical judgements always about the psychology of the person who utters them? How was she going to arrange the time to continue Emily's studies in philosophy? They stopped for a moment to look down at the pool where an impatient Carla was dragging Mrs Armstrong, legs first, from the tiles onto the grass. Impatiently Emily began to pull off Dr Mappamundi's jacket then embraced her again and started opening her blouse, plunging her arms around her slender waist and unhooking her bra. Stopping for a moment, she buried her face in Dr Mappamundi's neck. "Ever since…I saw you," Emily panted, "in bed with Mother…and you told me about it…" "Oh, Emily," Dr Mappamundi moaned. "I swore…I swore I was going to take her place," Emily said thickly, beginning to undo her dress. Carla had dragged Mrs Armstrong onto the rug near the pool and, turning her on her back, had mounted her.. Bush to bush, the older woman was moaning under the powerful friction from the muscular young woman on top of her.