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Appreciating Amanda Ch. 01

By: SweetOblivion



Part I -- Looking Back

"Amanda Mountford," I enthused, "sometimes you really need to be appreciated."

Looking back now, Amanda, I have to say your response was disappointingly confined to a muffled grunt; but I could forgive that. After all, your mouth was rather full at that moment. How could one not be generous, indulgent even, to one who is as intently engaged as you were? I looked down at you, my darling eighteen year old pet, filled with pride, watching as you drenched the strap-on, which was firmly belted to my waist, with saliva. I loved the way I had trained you to ensure that it would be just right and well prepared for later usage on your other young holes. 

I will always remember pressing forward into that pretty mouth of yours, dismissing my sweet protégée's repeated gagging sounds each time the rubber tool touched the back of the throat at the apex of each thrust. Then I leant over your nubile, young body, running my hand all the way down your back to that pleasingly rounded bubble butt for a deliciously proprietorial squeeze and a wickedly echoing slap. 

The darling wriggle, as you flinched in response, was quite natural. Do you remember how your lovely form was actually almost completely denuded and spread, face-down across my new coffee table at the time? Any onlooker would have seen that your pert bottom was still very pink from the rather vigorous caning that my good friend, Gertrude, had inflicted upon it the previous day. Dear Gertie: she is such a thorough disciplinarian.

Those stripes had now faded from the vivid marks that had impacted so on that sweet eighteen year old derriere, even though Gertrude had meticulously criss-crossed your teenaged flanks with them. And yet, they reproached me still as you, my pet, gurgled beneath me. They were an angry reflection on a rare loss of temper at your sometimes pusillanimous approach to the mature joys that I had offered you since taking your education in hand. And Gertrude, grateful for the opportunities that I occasionally toss her way, is always prepared to be as thorough that she imagines I would wish her to be in such situations. 

Why, I can almost see her in my mind's eye, ushering you into her study and looking you over, before having you lean right over her dark mahogany desk. I can feel your trepidation as you see the well-worn edge of the desk. Then there is the puzzled look crossing your face as you wonder how many students and other affiliates of ours have been located in exactly that position.

Next comes that cool swish of air against the back of your thighs as your skirt is flipped up around your waist, snagged on the end of some well-chosen tool whose whippy propensities are still to be tested on your youthful derriere. You tremble lightly until the contrasting warmth of a mature female hand offsets the chill. It touches your shivering thighs first and stills them before the fingers rise tantalisingly up to the tight crevice between your panty-clad, teenaged buttocks. 

You twitch away from the first contact and are rewarded by the sharp sting of a slap and the hiss in her voice, both chiding you for your naughtiness; and repeated once, twice and then a third time for good measure. You have been warmed, my dear sweet Amanda; you have been measured; and you have been found extremely wanton, despite that air of apparent innocence you normally exude. Gertrude knows exactly what you need to ensure you never say no to your owner again. She has a vast array of implements and a wealth of experience in using every single one of them. 

So, just lower your belly to the desk obediently, raise your bottom pleasingly and wait for Gertrude to slip her experienced hands under the elastic waistband of your innocently pink, lace trimmed panties and pull them down to your knees as expeditiously as only she knows how. You know from experience that you will have plenty of time as the seconds tick by to open your eyes, pet, and stare out freely at the lovely countryside. It undulates gently into the distance and forms almost as pleasing a vista to observe as your pretty, pink, soon to be striped derriere...

Ah! Such pleasant recollections! And I can remember to the day, pet, the time you first crossed my path. That is exactly a year ago now, when you moved in next door with your father, James, early that year, just as winter gave way to spring -- hence the candle that I planted and then lit in your belly button after luncheon today. It's such a natural holder. I do so love the way the wax spills over the side and pools on to your lovely young tummy, before spreading and forming that malleable residue, where I can write my initials to remind you just who you belong to now.

This girl remembers the move very well too, mistress. I was quite tired after the long journey. Daddy was so very irritated to find that several of his rarer books had somehow been left in a crate in storage. He does so like having his things about him. I had chosen my room, when daddy finally purchased the house. Yes I know you know the room well, but please let me press my face back between your spread thighs; tug my hair until I am back where I belong. I promise you that I won't exhaust my tongue or your patience with my silly chatter. And yes, mistress, I will enjoy your lovely cunt. I will twist my eager, young tongue round and round, until you squirt your juices all down this girl's expectant face. It's no lie to say that I was drawn to your potential immediately: your chaste demeanour, that lovely brunette mane of hair of yours, those sculpted features and, above all, your shyness called out to me, Amanda. And yet, your timidity was such that you seemed almost fawn-like in your anxious desire for escape from company, looking away and blushing at every turn. Yes, I saw that hunted look straying across your pale face. It made it abundantly clear to everyone who called in during the days after your arrival, that you wanted to hasten away given the first opportunity. 

Given that delicate reserve, I am quite sure that you would have been very hard to get to know had it not been for our shared delight in reading, gardening and, unbeknownst to the few friends you had left in her home town, a latent fondness for the most entertaining, masochistic, surrenders. 

Well, Amanda, a year later, do you still recognise the sweet innocent that you were? Over the last twelve months I seem to have cultivated in you a submissive temperament of the most delightful and perverse kind. And yet, given the right situation you still manage to turn on that guileless charm, whenever I wish to inveigle another wealthy potential donor into my select group of munificent lady patrons. You really were quite the find I have to say.

Gertrude once asked me how I managed to turn you so completely, while leaving your maidenly exterior so apparently unstained by the inner turmoil engendered by the opportunity to surrender. You have to forgive her sometimes. For Gertrude, submission is really about one-sided conquest. She is in charge. She is certain in her approach. And she rarely entertains any variation on her directive philosophy. Empowerment for her means disempowerment for those who fall under her spell. 

For me conquest and control is far more subtle. It is a matter of getting a woman to look within herself to find the image of Sapphic surrender staring back -- quiet, still and embodied in her perception of the mistress who took her there in the first place. And I'm really rather glad that you chose my way, you darling girl. Let me just tweak those excitable nipples once more. There's a good girl. Lean up and let your mistress have the entire run of your gorgeous, little body. 

What delicious handfuls your lovely little teats are, my dear heart. The way those rose-pink areola distend when they are tugged sharply. See how the blood rushes to them, faster than it does to your dear little face when you are accosted by one of my close friends. I really must acquire those lovely clamps that dear Gertie recommended. She has purchased a set for Alexandra that are utterly enticing...yes, shudderingly so. I wonder how you'd look accessorised in a matching set -- no don't start away from me dear. I want to push my fingers into your sweet cunt until you come at least three times in a row during the next few minutes...ah here comes the first one -- what a clever pet it is!

Please don't hurt this girl, mistress. I am still very tender from your dear friend's attention. Did you know that she tried out Alex's clamps on the both of us, last time you leant this girl to her? Of course you do, mistress. I've seen you looking through the pictures that Veronica took of Alex and I clamped together: two little slave girls, ready to pleasure their betters in whatever way you see fit. Oh mistress: that thought and your fingers make me want to come for you. Please may I come; please mistress, please mistress, please, please, please... 

Are you done yet? Excellent; now where were we? Ah yes...books, as I recall, were the first key to your door. James and I shared an interest in rare and antiquarian tomes. Your papa buys and sells them for a living. I collect as an adjunct to my academic work. A brief discussion on the extent of his library soon after you moved in, gave me the opportunity I needed to invite you and your dear daddy round to view my own not un-sizeable collection. You both seemed pleased to find me such a hospitable neighbour and, over tea, a succession of sandwiches, cakes and sweetmeats I gradually encouraged you out of your respective shells. James was evidently impatient to see my collection. I think you simply wanted to explore the four storey house. 

Youth won out, of course, and so, once tea had been consumed, I gave both of you a tour of the old place, excluding my special playrooms. I was quite sure they would be appreciated in due course, by you, my dear sweet Amanda, at least. 

Our little expedition around the old house allowed you to regress to a childlike wonder as we wandered from room to room. I had spent a lot of money on the place. Favours had been called in to get it into tip-top condition. You seemed quite bedazzled.  

I remember you telling me later, in my bed, how you quietly explained that you were not used to such a feminine household. You remember don't you, pet. It was the night when you were kindly offering up your soft behind as an escritoire (when I was writing out those invitations to your first public sodomy). You certainly remember the sodomy. And stop grinning already, you disgusting little slut. 

You said that you were accustomed to the rather more perfunctory male-oriented function décor that had suited your father. He had lost interest in many of his surroundings since he'd separated from your mother some few years before. 

You had travelled with him from short term lease to short term lease, feeling perhaps a little lost away from the bosom of your family -- yes darling, talking of bosoms -- I would be very pleased if you would suckle my tits like a good girl. There you go, that's a lovely child: push your face between them and excite them with that lascivious and talented, little tongue of yours. Oh! That's quite wonderful, you clever thing. 

I do love contrasts and can, thanks to my many patrons, afford the best designers. My pretty, new acquaintance (yes, that's you Amanda -- don't blush so and do carry on suckling) was quickly able to gasp in admiration at the sheer voluptuousness of rooms I had carefully furnished and fitted during my five year tenure there. 

James was polite, but you, dear pet, were utterly effusive in your admiration, hastening from room to room, gasping at the contrasts. Soon you were reduced to just clucking at the fabrics and furnishings that most caught your eye. Eventually, I brought you both up to the top of the old house and pulled open the curtains to demonstrate how lucky they were to be so far from the urban hub.

"You can see four counties from here," I said, presenting the view proudly, as if I owned everything on the horizon (which, thanks to various titles acquired through my tenure I now have aspirations to do). "And no one looks onto this property. The lake stops them building further out."

"Privacy is a rare quality," James commented dryly, stooping slightly to accommodate his six foot frame beneath the low attic ceiling. He was still evidently impatient to see the bait of antiquarian books that I had tempted him there with.

"Privacy can be purchased," I smiled and proceeded to tell him how I had recently managed to take ownership of the lake and the surrounding properties. Your girlish excitement was sweetly evident, pet. You ooohed and aahed at the prospect of sun-bathing. James smiled to realise his own property was safe from any developers aspirations -- well safer than his precious daughter at least, I decided. 

"I can see the whole of our garden from here, Daddy," You piped up and then leant forward. "Look: there are the apple trees in our garden; we are even higher up than their tallest branches here. Your garden is lovely too, Mrs Anderson; and the lake looks wonderful. It's so deliciously blue!"

"It's Miss Anderson," James chided you. And it was quite lovely to see the virginal blush on your cheeks as you reddened with embarrassment at this minor telling off.

"Jane will do perfectly well for now," I reassured, slipping my arm into yours. You took my arm gratefully, almost childishly so. Then you squeezed my arm and clung to me in a sisterly embrace, inordinately pleased by my affectionate gesture. Oh the possibilities.

This girl is ever so pleased that you see possibilities in her, Miss Jane. It is such a pleasure to do you the services that you desire without you even having to whisper one word of direction. It makes me so proud to know instinctively now, just how you wish me to perform, which orifice you need me to stimulate and how I can surrender and please and assuage your overwhelming desires. You have trained me so well my mistress. How can I help but be grateful to you for fulfilling all those possibilities that your mind's eye presented to you on that summer day when first you decided to take possession of my heart, my mind, my soul and my as at that date unused cunt. 

"Oh look daddy, there's a swing. Mrs...Jane has a swing. Why can't we have a swing too? And there's someone on the swing...a woman -- no a girl -- she looks about my age...and she has lovely blonde hair too... " 

You broke off breathlessly and turned to me inquisitively.

"That's Alexandra," I smiled. "She likes to be known as Alex. She used to live where you do. Her mother and I are great friends. She's very nice and just a few years older than you. I invited her round to join us after tea. Why don't you go and meet her?"

"Oh can I? Please, please, please Daddy." You cried out, all trace of shyness evaporated. You were almost jumping up and down on my arm with excitement. Your father nodded wearily and you rushed out of the room ahead of us, leaving me to usher James back downstairs. 

It was his turn to be delighted when I led him into my library. It was all I could do to restrain him from climbing up the shelves to see what treasures they held. He turned to me as if seeking permission, just like his daughter, but the excitement was contained, adult and mature. I didn't have his measure at that early stage, so just opened my arms as if to offer the run of the place to him. 

He accepted my offer with a shy smile, but in a trice he was lost in that impenetrable world of his, all thought of social pleasantry gone. It was as if I'd left the room: the host abandoned to her own devices. What else could I do but clear the tea-things and stare out of the kitchen windows at the two young women dancing round the swing, twenty yards or so down the garden?

I have to say that you made a very sweet contrast. You are slightly shorter than Alex and thinner too. You both wore similar clothes: short skirts that rode up, blouses that billowed and cardigans that flew open as you danced around, hand in hand. I approved. 

I'm a traditionalist. Jean and crop-tops are for street urchins who hold absolutely no interest for me. Sensible dressing and sensible manners, even if offset by girlish excitement, is my thing. Excitement can be channelled after all. And even the most head-strong girl can be tamed, much as you sought to tame the gusts of headwind that blew those flimsy skirts up, revealing your pink and Alex's mauve underwear: as delicious a pastel contrast as I had ever observed; and yes I did observe. In fact, as you know now, I looked and savoured and plotted. 

This girl knows how much of a traditionalist you are, mistress. I remember your frown when you found me wearing jeans and a T-shirt in the garden one day. You sat away from me, your irritation quite visible. I had wanted to do some gardening, clearing through the brambles that had grown up between our two gardens since Alex had moved on. I know that the thought of those thorns pricking and scratching my flesh excites you, mistress, but it would have interfered so much. 

Yes, mistress, I know that you like to interfere with me too. I knew that even before you reproached me for my "peasant-wear" that day. Your hands had been slowly straying up my bare legs for weeks. Every afternoon, when you came across to chat with me, while daddy was busy with his books, I wondered how far you would go. It was like watching Ivy climbing up a trellis, winding its way round the white battens and increasing the pressure, as you squeezed my thighs more and more every time we came into contact. 

I know that I pretended not to notice the way your fingers climbed up ever higher, but I was quite sure that you had more in mind than brushing away crumbs from the very first time you brushed crumbs away from my girlish thighs.

I was quite shocked when you insisted I take my jeans off though. I thought you to be such a nice woman and there you were demanding that I sit next to you in just my little black panties and 'T' shirt. Actually, you didn't think much of the 'T' either, but you were quite delighted to see that it matched the knickers. I don't think anyone else has ever stared so hungrily at me as you did that day. 

I could even feel your eyes boring into the back of my head when you tugged me over your lap and gave me the first of many spankings for my careless dressing. And my poor, little, bruised bottom felt it all through the afternoon and into the evening. Why, I even had to sleep on my tummy, because you had been so thorough in your attentions, mistress. Having had you round for that introductory tea, it was not long before James returned the complement. I look back at my diary entries of the time and see that I wondered whether you had pressed her father in the hope that you might get re-acquainted with Alex. I was uncertain: perhaps, I wrote, James simply felt an obligation or an opportunity to foist his tomes upon me. 

It didn't matter. I had my own agenda and so in late March I finally allowed James to inveigle me into his own study to check out the prizes there. I was quite interested to find that we shared the same tastes in literature. I allowed my longer term objective to drift and pleased him by my interest in his precious collection. It's easy to admit now that I was collecting at the same time for myself. 

He might want me to identify potential acquisitions, but I only had one in mind. Patience is a virtue and I was quite happy to window shop, while you warmed to the spring sunshine, sitting on a bench sometimes with your books, sometimes chatting with Alex just outside the French windows. 

James was always the more focussed on the books. It was inevitable given his trade. Yet, I could tell he wanted to share more than just this hobby with me. He would sometimes look away into space or appear momentarily distressed: that little boy lost look in fact. Yes, I did wonder why, but I held my peace. 


Appreciating Amanda Ch. 01



I really wanted to find out more before I probed. I knew that his wife had left him for a younger, more successful man -- or rather he'd left her after an acrimonious divorce that gave him custody of young Amanda with occasional visiting rights for his former partner. He'd given me the gist of that when he first came round. I'd sympathised then, but had decided to let him re-open the topic in his own time. 

Obviously I was concerned for him because of you, Amanda. I've never really had much interest in men. The dominant ones repel me with their habitual crassness, while the more insecure irritate and even disgust me. The rest just fade into the background and out of focus. 

I wasn't at all interested in James, but I could show vague interest in his profession and even put some trade his way. My contacts in the town were soon sources of income for him and sources of influence for me, but my wandering thoughts were increasingly torn from the dusty interior of his library. 

In actual fact, I found it increasingly hard to concentrate on anything to do with your dear daddy. Whenever I visited I was increasingly drawn to the dust motes floating in the spring sunlight and, beyond them, the temptation of your soft contours as you got to know different aspects of the garden. 

It was, alas, all motives for me, with no means and no opportunity whatsoever. Of course I persisted, because, you are quite lovely in looks, demeanour and malleability, as well you know now. Look at the way you splay those coltish legs so indelicately when I mount you. How can anyone resist that delicate little cunt of yours? It gets so wet when you have been well-whipped. 

This girl can only do her best to serve you, mistress, and if that means that I become pleasingly moist just by being in your presence, then I can only consider that my duty to you is served. Your touch is so much more meaningful than this girl's. I think of your hand on my arm as I lie in bed at night and caress myself, hoping that you will hold me tighter and tighter until I can hardly bear it. 

Touch me, taste me, whip me, place me at your disposal and you will make this girl want to express herself, but only in so far as you will allow, mistress. I want to be good, but I want to be the best for you, mistress. I want only to serve your imagination and all your intrigues in every way possible. 

Let this girl be a whipping post to serve the pleasures of your friends and earn you the influence you cherish. Let her lips meet with those of Alexandra as you watch us, dancing in the sunshine, our skirts flipping up in our romps, showing you the extent of our excitement, the degree of our need. Take us both to your bed and fuck us together with your cleverly placed fingers, your inspired tongue and the harsh words that have us trembling in your service. 

I have found it unsurprising that Amanda's taste in fiction is so romantically inclined. Even if her father aspires to classical volumes, Amanda has a young girl's passion for romance and surrender. She will often leave a book face up on the grass, abandoning it to her dreams of being conquered and taken. 

A little substitution of reading matter, showing how a middle class girl can take adventures of the most Sapphic extremes has worked wonders over the months. Her aspirations to slave girl status that have caused her to tremble so in her little bed have served me well at every turn. And yes, we have had a delicious journey together on the road less travelled towards her self-realisation as my pet, my toy, my lovely little and just about virginal slave slut. 

Mistress, you can contrive any direction, any punishment, any duty and I will beg to yield to your tender mercies. Oh mistress, I can keep quiet no longer, I am coming at the thought of you owning me, tending me, making me yours... 

I know this dear. And your soft mewling, Amanda, when one determines to push a strap-on into that gloriously tight bottom of yours, has to be heard to be really enjoyed. You can only really get a filly like you going, of course, if you first twist the thumb into the bottom -hole and rotate it, just like this...



Appreciating Amanda Ch. 02



(Part 1 summarised - 18 year old Amanda has recently moved next door to a single lady in her mid thirties. Lonely and insecure after recent parental divorce and lack of stability in her family, Amanda proves interesting prey for our beguiling 'heroine')

Part 2 - Home Territory

...Now what was I was saying before your deliciously round rear end so rudely interrupted my train of thought, Amanda? 

Ah, yes, I was remembering my frustration - our initial acquaintance was at first, alas, all motive for me. There was no means of deepening the nascent friendship and certainly no opportunity, given your overwhelmingly shy nature. 

On your home territory, I knew that you felt entirely safe and able to enjoy reading on a rug on the grass away from prying eyes. You could simply look out at the first yellow buds on the forsythia bushes and think beautiful thoughts, completely uninterrupted by the vicissitudes of others. 

In fact, I noticed that you seemed to take special pleasure in the springtime, laughing softly to yourself as you discovered another hyacinth or tulip ready to burst into flower. It was as if the association with nature freed you from the shyness you exhibited with anyone other than James, your father.

James had found that home study was the only option for your continued education when he first arrived in Peddington. You had come to the town far too late to enrol in the local college and you were well over compulsory school age. I could have pulled strings with my ladies who lunch, but decided to let things take their natural course. Let people make their own mistakes, I say. They will eventually be only too glad to find me on hand to help them tidy everything up in my own way, when the time is ripe.

As such I was not at all surprised when one day late in April James took me to one side. He said that he was concerned that, without some tuition, your chances of academic advancement were slipping away. Home-tutoring for exams to be taken was seemingly impossible to arrange given his limited knowledge of the local academic scene. 

James confided that you were an intelligent girl, but lacked discipline. He liked the way your friendship with Alexandra was blossoming, but had seen that you were gradually spending less and less time on your books. I smiled and nodded and warmly agreed that some young ladies do indeed need considerable amounts of discipline.

Other than this relationship with Alex, it was not as if you were particularly gregarious: the very opposite in fact. You had not sought out friends and would have found that difficult anyhow not being in a local school. You seemed to be lost in an escapist world: just like your father at times. 

I promised to exercise some influence. That very evening, while Alexandra was engaged in teasing my clitoris in that oh so special way of hers, I told her to make herself scarce. 

Alex looked up at me enquiringly for a moment, but with a tug of her blonde locks she was back to her duties, her clever young tongue probing and pleasing. I've trained her wonderfully well, so much so, that I was soon lying back on the settee almost swooning with pleasure. 

(This girl loves it when you swoon with pleasure, mistress. It's as if all the seasons come together in a wonderful combination of the best things in love. This girl will do anything to make sure that you have all the delight that she can afford you.)  

(You found her lost and uncertain. This girl found you at the heart of your desire. She wants to stay there forever, bringing you all the bliss that using this girl affords you.) 

I know that Alexandra's disappearance left you quite abandoned, Amanda. There really was no need to go on so. Every tearful sigh you uttered, every sad face you pulled, made it abundantly clear that you were missing her as you hovered between your books, your father and me. I felt quite cruel at times, but needs must. 

Then, as James' business picked up at my instigation, I found it increasingly easy to monopolise your time. Yes, that was the time of the creeping hand. Do you remember how it beguiled you? I had such pleasure slowly seducing you. And the exultation that I felt as I finally managed to slide under your skirt without resistance. I can hardly describe the warm freshness that lurked there. 

(Your hands are so soft mistress. This girl loves the feel of them on her limbs. You made her want to spread her thighs and offer her all up to you from the very first time your hand toyed with the patterns on that lacy skirt. It was so clever of you to admire the pattern and to get this girl talking about needlework and design as you slipped your hand under there.) 

(This girl was so carried away by the arts and crafts that she did not notice your intrusion until your possessive hand was resting firmly on her young mound.) 

(Her heart stopped still and she could hardly breathe when she stopped her chatter. And then she found your fingers were playing over the tight little mons that you were soon to make sure was yours in every respect.) 

Yes dear. Thank you for that stimulating thought. Now, as I was saying: James seemed pleased at my interest in you. You seemed to enjoy our conversations. And I, well, I have to confess now, that you filled my dreams and lay in my bed many months ago, your tantalising limbs bound to the bedstead as I dedicated myself to fucking you in my sleep, night in and night out. 

James was rarely with us during those increasingly intimate conversations, but he trusted me by then. I didn't want you to read any disrespect for either him or yourself in my approach. I knew that any excess forwardness could be reported. And any report, no matter how minor, could ruin all my plans for my young ingénue. 

My confidence in you was well rewarded though. Your responses to my gentle overtures, led me forward little by little. Eventually, you were quite comfortable to nestle in my arms or kneel at my feet to listen to whatever wisdom I was minded to convey to you.

Discretion remained my watchword as far as any admiration for your beguiling young form at that stage. (Of course it did, mistress - Don't be a cheeky bitch, Amanda). I don't think your father was at all conscious of my interest, even when I walked over to the windows when he was explaining the wonderful pictures in Paradise Lost to me in the most detailed fashion. 

I looked over my shoulder at him and he just smiled vaguely, before turning back to the illustrations of Milton's wonderful work. I had other wonderful things to lure me away: his wonderful garden and his equally wonderful daughter to name but two. 

I remember you telling me how you had always lived in small city centre apartments before you arrived in Peddington. The gardening potential was limited to flower boxes that you generally took care of. I think James was slightly lost at the thought of maintaining the vast garden that he'd acquired next to mine. 

The lawn stretched out forever and, beyond its vast expanse, several old apple trees and a small south facing hillock, that abutted my own property, obscured the lake from view. The beds surrounding the lawn took a god deal of care and I don't think he had the least idea of how to tend the many shrubs that had been planted there over the years.

I, on the other hand, knew the garden and all its plantings very well indeed. I'd sunbathed on the hillock, picked apples in the little orchard and made love to Karen Kincaid, the former lady of the house over the past three years in all the more shielded parts and several of the more exposed locations too. 

We'd kissed next to the first sticky yellow buds of the forsythia near the French windows. We'd held hands on the lawn and stroked one another to an apex of pleasure all through the summer. 

We'd fucked in the shade of the apple trees in the autumn, with over ripe fruit rotting in the grass around us. And, even though she was five years older than me, I'd spanked her to a climax over my lap right on top of that little hillock. 

The memories are so sweet: I'd sat on the stump of a fallen tree and let the sounds of my slapping hand echo far into the countryside when the snow fell in winter. I tell you, Amanda, I didn't stop until her bare bottom was redder than her tear-stained face. 

Always remember, though, my dear: your elders are not always your betters. Some of them can be deliciously subservient beneath the mature veneer, no matter how sneeringly superior they seem at first glance. 

Take that horrid wretch Veronica Smythe for instance. Alright, dear, I do know you've taken her, used her and delighted in humiliating her on my behalf on many an amusing occasion, but more of that later.

Right now I really need you to kneel up behind me and slip your exquisite tongue into my anal tract. I just love it when you rim me, Amanda, pet. It takes me to another level to feel your moist lips and your warm breath so close to my fundament. 

And then to sense the sensual movements of your languid tongue intruding into my upraised arse: why it is quite the apogee of delight. I could lie here forever while you tease me like that, I really could. 

(This girl's tongue is designed to tease you mistress. This girl knows it is her duty to lave you gently when you turn over and lie on your belly. She so admires your kimono and can only enjoy the touch of the silk as she raises it over your thighs, seeing the creamy expanse exposed.)

(This girl loves to massage you gently, mistress. She craves the feel of your womanly curves and the warmth of your seductive behind. This girl likes to spread you and open you, to see the tightness opening up to her as each lick delves closer and closer to the little brown ring that marks the centre of your desire.) 

(Let this girl lick and taste and tease until she can feel you pressing back into her face. Let her tongue push past the tight anal muscles and delve into your fundament, pleasing you with each movement, her face captive to your most perverse desire, miss.) 

Good girl! Time, however, waits for no woman. Back to the matter or, if you like, 'mater' in hand: Karen, as you know, is Alex's stepmother. She has the same blonde hair, the same dazzling smile and the same apologetic, effusive stream of consciousness when she is caught out. 

Karen is also a secretary at the university college where I hold tenure. Her partner is long gone and she is reliant on the income her secretarial duties bring her. 

Unfortunately criticism of her work at college some two years ago had culminated in a difficult incident, involving the accessing of an examination paper in her care. 

I still remember how embarrassed she appeared to be when she came to my study that afternoon. Eventually I managed to get to the bottom of the matter (no, not your bottom dearest -- please don't get too obsessively anal!). 

I could have been mean, but, knowing her situation, resolved to be supportive. I honestly wanted to be kind and reassure her, but she was having none of it, standing there shame-faced before me, her head bowed as if she were a naughty school girl. 

She was nearly forty, some five years my senior, for goodness sake. Yet, there she stood that afternoon, her hands behind her back, babbling her sad little excuses incontinently until I finally lost patience and told her to shut up. 

She looked up at me in mute admiration and I quickly realised that she wanted something more of me than liberal guidance and forgiveness.

"There really is nothing more to be said, Karen," I said, shrugging my shoulders and looking out of the window, wanting her to be gone so that I could get back to my work. "You know that I can get you out of this fix with a few words in the right places."

"Oh would you really, miss," she started to blurt again. "I'd be ever so grateful. I promise you I will. And it will never happen again."

"Until next time," I said brusquely and frowned at her until she fell silent once more for a little while at least. We stood there for a few moments, contemplating each other silently. She opened her mouth and then closed it, thinking better of it.

"Are you not quite done, Karen?" I added icily, to reinforce my position, seeing that she was about to gush again.

"Yes miss."

"All this needs is a little sensitive handling."

"You are ever so kind, miss."

"Do you feel in my debt then?"

"I'm certainly obliged to you, I'm sure."

"I am not one to take advantage of such obligations."

"But miss..."

"Yes?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as I walked across to the cupboard. I had intended to take the missing exam paper and to add it carefully to the others, closing the affair, but I was conscious of her anxious eyes boring into my back. 

"I would be really pleased if you were to take advantage of me, if it pleases you, miss," she confessed. 

You see me today all self assured and you will not believe that I was quite taken aback by this. Yet I was far from experienced then and she took me by surprise. Somehow I managed to trip. 

In seeking to regain my balance, I spilt the contents of the shelf across the floor with a loud crash. I closed my eyes, with a frustrated sigh, totally irritated at my clumsiness. 

When I eventually opened them I found Karen scrabbling at my feet in an endeavour to gather the papers that were scattered widely across the floor. 

Alongside them, posed indelicately between the kneeling woman and myself, I saw an old school cane, lying there like an unanswered question.

Karen had paused in her tidying and was staring at it in fascination, as if the curling wooden object were a venomous snake. I couldn't tell if she was horrified or delighted. I laughed nervously: "It's not mine you know, Karen."

"No miss. It's fate."

"You feel fated to suffer some consequence for your actions then?"

"I feel fated to be caned by you, miss," she said in a very small voice.

"Your small town morality demands it, does it?"

"I suppose so, miss." 

"You need my urbanity and my hand on your bottom?"

"The hand wouldn't be enough, miss."

"Don't you dare be feisty with me, girl," I asserted myself and saw relief in her eyes. She evidently needed this ritual of control as much as she desired the pain of surrender. "You are in enough trouble as it is."

"Yes miss. Sorry miss."

"Well, I would not want to leave you morally deprived, Karen. Pick it up."

"What miss?"

"The cane, you ninny; and then get your sorry form over my desk. You have a bottom that needs to be beaten."

"Oh yes miss; thank you miss, right away miss."

I watched as Karen walked slowly across to my desk. I really just intended to tap her playfully across the behind a few times and then send her on her way, but Karen soon put paid to that notion. 

Before I could object, she'd raised her skirt and slid her knickers down to her knees, exposing her motherly flanks immodestly.

"What on earth are you doing, Karen?" 

It was my turn to bluster as I walked across the room, half-wanting to get her to cover up, half-wanting to lock the door and see what might happen were we to be completely undisturbed.

"I'm getting ready to be caned, miss," Karen said matter-of-factly. "When I was at school they always caned on the bare. Your predecessor here, Mrs De Vere caned me on the bare."

"I have something of a tradition to follow then," I murmured, locking the door and then picking the cane up, before flexing it in my hands: "the good old, bad old days."

"Yes," she smiled. "Should I take my blouse off too?"

"What would you want to be doing that for?"

"Mrs De Vere always said that no whipping was complete without nice red tits all present and correct."

"Mrs De Vere went on to take charge of the Further Education College, did she not?"

"Yes, she did." 

"And does she continue her strict regime there?"

"Yes miss. My stepdaughter, Alexandra, tells me that even star students have been seen standing outside Mrs De Vere's door after hours."

"Alexandra?" 

"Yes miss. She's a star student after a fashion, but says she welcomes the direction even at eighteen years of age."

"As does her mother at thirty nine," I commented wryly, as I brought the cane down on Karen's upturned behind for the first of many whippings in our association.

"Yes miss. Thank you, miss."

"You like this, don't you," I grinned, slashing down twice more.

"I love it miss," she moaned, jerking as she received a further three blows on her bottom.

"The exercise is quite invigorating," I mused, applying a little further force.

"That's it, miss. Cut through me. Look to the other side of the flesh."

"My, you are full of helpful advice."

"Ooooh! Thank you, miss. What's good for the beater is good for the beaten, miss."

"And what does Alexandra say?"

"She tells me that her college principal says star students should be spanked at home if they are to retain their cutting edge." 

"And you oblige?"

"I want her to succeed, miss."

"Have you had enough yet?" I asked, looking from the cane to her freshly striped bottom.

"That's for you to determine, miss," she winced as I ran my finger along one of the red lines.

"I have a lot to learn evidently."

"You have a natural gift, miss," she sighed as I slid between her legs to caress her gently there. "Oh and that's so nice too."

"And is this "nice"?" 

I slipped my fingers against her sex, sluicing up and down her slit, teasing the moisture from her until she was putty in my hands, her body trembling under my ministrations.

"Oooooh, yes miss!"

"You are a very naughty girl, Karen Kincaid," I grinned, slapping her bottom affectionately, rubbing the recently inflicted stripes to make her wince a little.

"Naughty is as naughty does, miss," she smiled back at me wickedly, looking round slyly as I embedded two fingers in her pussy and started rotating them, gradually accelerating the pace until I could feel her tremble. I will never forget how her warm, moist vaginal flesh clung to my penetrating fingers.

"What are you saying, girl?" I said, withdrawing my fingers and swatting the dissolute woman hard with the palm of my hand. 

"I'm saying that you also have a penchant for spanking miss."

"I blame you entirely."

"I quite understand miss."

"You have a very spankable bottom, Karen."

"It's not quite as spankable as Alexandra's, miss."

"Do you spank Alexandra on the bare then, Karen?"

"Is there any other way, miss?" 

"Do you enjoy spanking your step-daughter's bare bottom?"

"I do as I'm told, miss."

"I take it Mrs De Vere is responsible for the telling?"

"Yes miss."

"Is there anything else I should know about your disgraceful household, Karen?"

"Sometimes Mrs De Vere comes to visit us."

"Oh does she now?" I grinned, reinserting my fingers and gently pistoning them in and out of Karen's very wet cunt. "Do tell me more about these bacchanalian goings-on."

And Karen, already a slave to my insinuating fingers, told me everything about her relationship with my predecessor. Apparently Mrs De Vere had discovered a real exhibitionist streak in both mother and step-daughter. 

She was delighted to exploit their need to show themselves off. She would sometimes even spank them head to toe over the same table, making the step-daughter count the mother's agony and vice versa until Mrs D had sated everyone's love of chastisement. 

Unfortunately Mrs D appeared to be focussed solely on the disciplinary aspect. Neither Karen nor her daughter had the effrontery to challenge her and request other pleasures. Bottoms were reddened. Tears were shed. Cries were heard. Yet that was the sum of it.

Once Mrs D had exhausted her swing and departed, mother would look to step-daughter. Then both would look to the floor and turn away, before retiring sheepishly to separate rooms. There, lying in solitary bliss, Karen Kincaid and Alexandra would recollect the events of the evening over cocoa, a nicely turned-up radio programme and a frenzied session of masturbatory fantasy. 




Appreciating Amanda Ch. 02



I was different though. Karen confessed to me that the exam paper shenanigans were just a means to an end. She sensed a hint of something in me and felt, rightly as it turned out, that I would not want to leave her unsatisfied. 

I have to tell you that she came several times on my fingers that afternoon, Amanda, and showed servile delight in licking them as clean as she could. It served on that occasion, but I resolved to wear gloves in future. 

That was an excellent choice, for fetishist as she is, Karen nearly fainted with anticipatory joy when she saw me slip them on before our next exploration.

Nonetheless, several spankings and repeated canings had limited effect upon her. She always came back for more: her appetite seemingly insatiable. She was not one to withhold, even with my dirty panties stuffed in her mouth. 

Eventually we progressed to my home next door to hers, where disciplinary action could be more easily meted out without disturbing others. 

The severest whipping would make her cross pain thresholds that weaker souls would blanch at; but this harsh discipline bred desire in both her and me. 

After a good chastisement, Karen was particularly gifted in expressing her thanks with one of the most inventive tongue I have ever had the pleasure to feel. 

I only once spanked her in the open. It was late one evening in May, just as the sun was setting, when she was pressed down over my lap in the pergola in her own garden. 

The pink hues of the sky offset her blushing bottom beautifully. And I'd very cleverly chosen pink panties for her to slip down to her knees to match the splendour of the evening sky. Once removed completely and inserted in her mouth, they also more than served to address her tendency to cry out and disturb the serenity of the moment. 

My sartorial taste stopped me from turning that blush too deep a hue, but it was pleasing to see a light bruising on Karen's arse reflecting the darkness of the night sky before I had done. It was even more pleasing to remember the night gardening that ensued. 

I can still stand amongst the laurel bushes at twilight and remember her sweet lips probing under my skirt, while I appeared, from afar, to be guiding her in her creative planting. 

Admittedly, more recently, you, my dear Amanda, have brought that recollection to the fore. Your youthful engagement with my eager cunt lips amongst the very same laurels does add more than a certain frisson to such memories. 

I do so love the way you look up at me full of expectation. I pause in one of my discourses. Our eyes meet. I flick my skirt impatiently and then you are there between my thighs. 

I adore the way your back arches as you embrace the heady perfumes of my expectant sex. I delight in the way that you have become so practiced in pushing my knickers to one side to expose my moist need to your devious fingers and gentle lapping tongue.

You may be quite expert in my fundament, Amanda, but you are quite unparalleled in your ability to draw cries of appreciation from me as your face is glued to my inner labia and you seek out the clitoral bud, that you have learnt to tease unmercifully.

(This girl has learnt as you have taught mistress. Her tongue is your instrument and is only of value in so far as the words that trip off it or the moist saliva that it conveys to your damp cunt, serve to please you and delight you mistress.)

(This girl is at your disposal. Lift her skirt and birch her bottom as she licks and pleases you. Let her suppressed mewls of pain add to your pleasure and requite you in your need for complete control over your house pet). 

House pet indeed! You do make me smile so, Amanda. Now do go and fetch that birch you were entertaining my ears with. I have a mind to beat your bottom until you wail for telling me such naughty things. Don't look up at me with that trembling lip, girl. You know that you love it! 

Why, I think you could come just by being birched. There is almost no need to sexualise you either before or afterwards -- but there again sexualising you, my dear, is so much fun. 

Now, before you go to do-your-duty by me, though, kneel down and kiss my foot. You know that is what your pursed lips are for. That's it, curve the spine. Show yourself off in all your eighteen year old teenaged gawkiness. 

One day you will learn how to be truly elegant under my tutelage, girl. Kiss and lick and please. That is your role. That is your purpose. You are my ornament and you must know that you are the most precious ornament that I possess. 

And while you obey me so delightfully, let me tell you that, whether the pet is eighteen or bordering on forty, the point of first contact when the warmth of soft hands finds the backs of my thighs is always a happy moment. It was with Karen and with Alexandra. It was especially so with you Amanda. 

And it is a contact to be continued until the appetite is fully sated and beyond. I admit to some initial nerves and reluctance to play to Karen Kincaid's unrestrained masochistic tendencies. 

Yet, in retrospect, I really have to admit, that beating, berating and birching a submissive woman or girl, such as you Amanda, is entirely home territory for me now...



Appreciating Amanda Ch. 03



Continuing the cunning, lingual education of Amanda: floral 'adoral' and a 'De Vere' punishment.

*

Dear reader, if you have followed Amanda's tribulations thus far, you should know by now that I, Jane Player, love a real sense of ownership. The moment when my conquest gives in to their submissive libido is a very precise joy. Each connection is accompanied by such feelings of empowerment. I really cannot help but savour these instants for a very, long time indeed. 

I will always remember the quizzical look in Amanda's eyes, pet, when she first realised that my overtures were more than those of a friendly and supportive neighbour. I recall chatting with Mrs De Vere, my predecessor at the college, about it over tea. I was very frank, telling her how my dear sweet eighteen year old Amanda turned to me one day in the garden and looked down at my hand. 

I still smile to think of my pet-to-be watching, quite unresisting, as I slowly pulled the fabric of that lovely summer skirt up, to reveal that gorgeous thigh.

"Does your passion never rest, Jane?" Amanda sighed a little irritatedly, placing her hand on mine and holding me from any further advances there.

"No rest for the almost wicked?" I smiled, shrugging my shoulders as if to excuse myself.

"No rest for me at least," she said sorrowfully.

"Oh?"

"I can't remember the last time I slept through the night, Jane." 

"Too many worries?"

"Something like that."

"Try to relax, pet. Come with me to the rose garden. There is no reason why you shouldn't enjoy my garden and flowers as much as you delight in your own."

I loved the almost childish way she took my hand as we walked across the stream dividing the two properties and the joyous look when you espied the rose garden. And joy is a thing to conjure with. I tell you that it doesn't always matter who it is who is giving themselves to me. I can internalise the joy they offer up. 

I close my eyes. I hold my breath. And I reward them with my gush of pleasure regardless, once each darling slut has overcome her scruples and been properly trained to meet my exacting needs. 

"I could spend hours here, Jane," Amanda said, sitting down on the grass by a bench.

"Mind you don't stain your skirt, dear. The grass is still a little damp."

"But the flowers are so beautiful."

"Then stay there, Amanda, but kneel up -- I don't want you to damage your clothing."

"Yes, Jane."

"Arch your back and splay your thighs."

"Like this?"

"Exactly: good girl."

She blushed. 

"Position is important," I continued, "even when you are only worshipping flowers."

"I think I should like to worship flowers with you for ever, Jane."

"I think that I should like that too, sweetheart. What type would you worship most?"

"Right now -- these assorted roses are wonderful."

"I adore roses too, Amanda."

"I can see that."

"I love their diversity: the way they grow wild and are lovely potted too. And I love to pot the cuttings from the plants."

"Your trellises are simply wonderful, Jane."

"It takes a lot of effort to cultivate them, just as I want them to grow."

"You are cultivating me too, aren't you Jane?"

"Yes, dear."

She looked down at the grass, letting me reach out and stroke her hair.

"You need cultivating pet. And I want you to grow in my care." 

"I want to grow too, Jane."

"Then don't resist my advances again."

"No, miss."

"Good girl. You will bloom like the roses under my care."

"Yes, miss." 

"And what I do with my blooms is my affair."

"I've always wanted to lie on a bed of rose and magnolia pedals," Amanda giggled.

"Even a little thing like you would need quite a few roses; and magnolias too -- it's a good thing that I have plenty of both in my garden."

"Is it my lucky day, Jane?"

"Let me tell you about a lucky day, Amanda. Let me tell you how my former neighbour's unemployed daughter, Alexandra Kincaid, shares the submissive gene with her step-mother, Karen..." 

"I love your stories, miss."

"I know pet. Now stroke my calf, while I tell you that where my predecessor at the college, Mrs De Vere, used to discipline the Kincaids (both step-mother and daughter and sometimes simultaneously), I seek to delight in the first and last instance. 

It would be no exaggeration to say that Alexandra has entertained me on numerous occasions. And I would have to add the perverse thought that such entertainments took place in the very same garden where I previously, subsequently and, occasionally, simultaneously, enjoyed every aspect of her dear step-mother. 

Having heard from Karen about her predilection for beating Alexandra's bottom, I felt even more obliged to guide Alex in the most appropriate way of conveying her maturing thoughts. She would write me the most delicious essays, even though her most demanding head of college had no real interest in such expression. 

I would tell the then sweet eighteen year old to remember my fingers playing joyfully between her distended labia at moments of stress. The thought of such delectation would help her to manage any emotional outburst, as Mrs De Vere sadistically impressed her mark upon as only a recently promoted head of college could do. 

After all: the mingling of pleasure and pain is a thing that all well-trained pets need to accustom themselves to. Control and constraint rarely come naturally or instinctively. Remembrance of past pleasures will ease the pain of the moment. The association of delight with a given situation can be refined until a pet is completely enslaved to the emotions and sensations that you have inculcated within her. 

There are exploitative relationships that need to be moderated. I've since had three years to moderate Alexandra Kincaid. The first year was a time of slow weaning: letting Alex know that she had been noticed, but focussing almost entirely on Karen. 

It would have been tempting to sit in on one of the disciplinary sessions that Karen had told me so much about, but 'softly, softly catchee monkey' as they say. 

I was patient enough to content myself with hearing Karen's tales. She would kneel between my thighs and, between lickings and tastings, would tell me of the evenings earlier entertainments. 

"Will you tell me more about the entertainments, Jane?" Amanda said to me that afternoon in the rose garden, stealing me away from my reverie. I looked across at her kneeling there, dutifully stroking my lower leg and smiled affectionately.

"But of course I will, Amanda pet; that is provided, of course, you can arrange something in exchange?"

"I'm sure daddy will part with some rare treasure, miss."

"Will he, pet?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

"If I give you enough blooms and enough tales, will he offer up his most precious treasure?"

"If the treasure is that valuable, perhaps you should offer up the entire crop, Jane."

"You want a cropping, too?"

"You wouldn't hurt me, would you, Miss Jane?"

"I will only hurt you as much as you need to be hurt. Punishment and pleasure are the yin and yang of surrender: the sunshine follows the rain. The smiles follow the tears, Amanda. My crop marks you mine. Which would you have, dear?"

"I should have it all, if it pleases you, dear Jane."

"It is good you have such a broad mind, Amanda..."

I remember saying the very same thing to Karen as she delighted in exciting me with the torrid particulars of how she had punished Alex with hand or hairbrush. She would sometimes detail how she had watched Mrs De Vere do the very same earlier in the evening. It was so nice of her to pop round to please me in her very neighbourly fashion.

I could empathise with Alexandra. And wince at the thought of all those punishments she seemed to suffer. That did not stop me from gushing over Karen's tongue as she flicked it deftly between my labia, embracing my clitoral button as if she would never relinquish it.

The second year led to a change in pace when Alex left college at nineteen and shortly afterwards lost her job at the local Do-It-Yourself store on the outskirts of Peddington. The reason for this dismissal was her having failed to indulge a certain Ms Mary Higgins. 

I was able to empathise with the angry girl. I was also able to empathise with Higgins, who had been Alex's supervisor at that time. She is a forty five year old lady with greying hair, a large bust, a well rounded belly and somewhat rapacious attitudes as regards the younger members of her staff. 

I do not automatically tolerate such one-sided relationships, but the temporary loss of freedom sustained by Alex through this relationship, held considerable opportunities for me. 

As such, I was the one who spread cream across Alex's nubile form and pulled the sun protector over her eyes. I was also the guilty party who secured the knots that held Alex to the wooden sun-bed. And I was the one who had previously invited Mary to come round for tea by the lake. 

Amanda, dear: do stop trying to read over my shoulder. Kneel back and close your eyes like a good pet now. Lick me gently. I will read aloud if you like, but I want you to feel me tremble and sense my delight at each recollection. 

Can't you can almost taste Mary's delight as she watched the lake with me and sipped her tea. She admired the bathing and then bathed in bliss as Alex's clever, but unknowing tongue penetrated first her wrinkled vagina and then her middle-aged anus. The sweet, young tongue worked in such an unforgettable way that Mary was bound to become a regular at my little soirees. 

"Some pleasures may be worth paying for," Amanda whispered, playfully tying a daisy chain around her thin neck and offering me the end.

How could I help, but smile? I took the end and pulled ever so gently, not wanting the chain between us to break ever: "I do so enjoy the beauty of flowers and you are the most beautiful of flowers, Amanda."

"Your enjoyment begins to be my main pleasure, Jane."

"And you will give me such perfect enjoyment. Magnolias may be soft and may adorn a room nicely, but they are not so beautiful without you there, settling on the petals. I can picture you, Amanda -- tell me; is your favourite color rose?"

"I like pink."

"I can never decide which colour I like best."

"Pink blooms; pink bloomers," Amanda smiled and flicked her skirt up wickedly to reveal the truth of that statement. 

"Pink, rose petals it shall be then; with a hint of red to represent your nails -- a little contrast to intrigue me: and a little white to show off the pallor as I strip away your lovely clothes." 

"I like white too."

"White petal, white blouse, red petal, red brassiere, pink petal, pink panties, and so on?"

"Yes miss. I am happy to be stripped to meet your agenda."

"And striped?"

"Well, you did offer me the crop, miss."

"I am too lazy to crop you today. I will dream of laying you back in all of these petals: so rich and so kissable. And you will accept all my kisses, won't you dear?" 

"It is your due miss."

"And how is my dew, dear?"

"Your dew is perfect, miss," Amanda grinned and licked her lips.

"You are becoming such a decadent little thing..."

And talking of decadent, I have to say that Mary the manager (yes, dear, stifle that giggle like a good girl) also became a regular donator to my refurbishment fund. This wonderful couch is a tribute to the way I trained Alex to contain her revulsion at the woman's hairy maw, when the blindfold finally came off. 

And, as you have read and heard, I have diarised every scandalous encounter from that first furtive kiss by the gate, as Alex tried to sneak back late through my garden well after her curfew. I have written reams about the slow seduction while Alex has responded gratifyingly by rimming me magnificently, during dalliances in the summer house that had lasted all afternoon, when her step-mother was away (on my instructions) visiting. 

Alex is a wonderful kisser. I love the sensation of her now twenty-one year old mouth around my toes as she suckles me. She is the picture of dutiful obedience as my favourite blonde kneels there and I rest my legs on her thighs. Her hands are soft and her body is supple. 

She has a real future in beauty therapy, once she finds a way to use this rather basic qualification other than pleasing me -- not that I'm objecting to that too strongly. She is not stupid by any means. She knows instinctively that I simply adore the way she is able to lean forward, curving her spine. 

Alex is equally aware that by showing herself off as she works her way up each calf she pleases me enormously. The way that she manages to give the impression of kissing every inch of my leg, before planting her face right where her step-mother is wont to position her tongue (and probably did just a few hours previously) is almost unparalleled in my experience. 

I believe my leaving the bedroom door ajar one night as I mounted Karen, doggie style and fucked her till she screamed out her orgasm was my "mistress-stroke" in that household. Alex knew me as her step-mother's close friend up to that point, but her look six months after our first introduction, when our eyes met was priceless. 

When I saw her standing outside the door, her hands delving in her underwear, and I knew we were going to have a much closer relationship. Almost anyone would have smiled to see Alex's fingers playing so assiduously in her little mauve panties. I believe that her movements actually accelerated as her step mother was pressed down and made to lick both my pussy and a well-used strap-on clean that night. 

There is no need for Alex ever to know that the reason for her step mother's almost explosive orgasm that night was almost certainly the words whispered in her ear. I have a descriptive streak and the ability to convey to a mother how her daughter is masturbating herself quite lasciviously outside her room clearly set off something in Karen. 

Alex was too far off to hear the way I punctuated my erotic lullaby with the coarsest Anglo-Saxon phrases that I could think of, but she could certainly see how I spread her mother's sex as Karen knelt there before me, arse up. 

As I looked across into Alexandra's slightly glazed eyes, I mimed licking all the way up that glistening maternal slit, smiling to myself as Alex's fingers accelerated. I was quite delighted that she was compelled to put a hand over her mouth as she trembled her way to bliss. 

"Bliss, I begin to like that word," Amanda interrupted my monologue.

"It has such meaning for both of us," I agreed and let my hand caress her shoulder. "Although, on reflection, it may mean different things to different people; what does it mean to you Amanda?"

"It means that you surround me, miss, the aroma of petals mixing as you spread me."

"You would make new perfumes, pet?"

"If it would please you, miss. Yes I would."

"Your unmingled essence is more than enough, girl," I smiled and kissed her neck. "I find you so intriguing."

"Intriguing, miss?"

"Your flesh so sweet when you allow yourself to open up," I explained before my lips closed over her left nipple."

"There are always possibilities when you are about, Jane"

"The possibilities are those that you inspire in me," I whispered, my lips relinquishing their hold of her breast, before my tongue flicked at her, causing her to sigh gently.

"I feel an opening of petals may soon follow, miss."

"Follow your instincts, girl," I said, gently biting her nipple as I pulled it taut and let my nails graze Amanda's flesh as my hands slid over her.

"Yes, miss."

"You are so warm and inviting."

"Only as warm as your breathe, miss."

"And as inviting as your come hither," I smiled as my lips travelled down towards her tummy, kissing her chest and her belly, gently, my hands flexing against her thigh, sensing the arousal, perfuming her mound.

"I like the way time seems to slow down at these moments, miss."

"As do I pet," I agreed remembering how time slowed to allow me to become inordinately proud of my toying, which ensured that both Karen and Alex came together in a scream of mutual pleasure that might even have turned Mrs D from her one-tracked dead end approach to life...

"Oh?"

Quite evidently, Amanda, it wasn't long before that vicarious bedroom licking, became kissing sweet Alex at my gate. And kisses in such a context soon turn to fumbling and glorious finger fucking. Alex was even more submissively inclined than her mother and seemed to delight in the wickedest escapades that my naughty imagination could devise. 

She spent many a summer-twilight bound and belly down on that same swing that you espied in my garden the first time you came here, pet. Her feet were sufficiently free to propel her forward so that she could please me with her ever-so active tongue. 

I taught Alex how to fetch me things in her mouth, pet like and diligent: a hairbrush, a ping pong paddle, a little whip; she quickly learnt to roll over like a good girl when I felt inclined to spank her pussy; and she excelled at seeking out my need under my skirt, tugging down my panties with real élan. Her teeth delicately gripped the fabric as she tugged them downwards, before returning to pleasure her mistress.

I remember those wonderful picnics we had together. I would read to her improving texts as she ate from her bowl at my feet or lapped her water from a little stone fountain. That ornament was a little tacky, but I kept it since I'd had Karen purchase it for me in Mary's store. She got a wonderful discount, for Mary knew full well the use that I intended to put it too. 

In time Alexandra became such a good little bitch, that I could not resist her request for a leash and collar on her nineteenth birthday, with a little silver pendant that spelt out my initials in studded pearls. The opportunities seemed limitless that glorious summer two years ago, as I alternated between step-mother and daughter, inching each of them forward in their own way. 

"Did they pay tribute to you, miss?" Amanda murmured

"The soft movements of their bodies and their minds certainly helped in that direction."

"Yes miss."

"As do yours."

"Yes miss."

"I see from how your body moves all the soft slow waves that build."

"The thought of petals is slightly itchy - forgive the wriggles," Amanda teased and I teased forward, reaching over to spank her lightly. 

"Sometimes you need someone to do more than tell you off for your naughtiness, Amanda." 

"Yes miss. That's why I come to you."

"I can't dissemble crossness with you for long though. I get too much pleasure from letting my palm slide over your mound as I kiss you, gently pressing."

"Thank you, miss."

"For?"

"Your attentions are so soothing."

"That is my pleasure."

"That is your right."

"And it is my right to ensure that even the most reserved pet or hardened disciplinarian is turned given the opportunity..."

Mrs De Vere was no exception, Amanda. I first met the much talked of Gertrude De Vere at a soiree in the college. I was guest speaker at a prize giving ceremony where several senior staff members were to be presented with gifts for service to the college. 

It was not a big affair but there were several distinguished guests. Gertrude had charged her star student, one Alexandra Kincaid, with ensuring the arrangements for the prize-giving were absolutely spot-on. I arrived early and, unobserved, managed, by slight of hand, to conceal one of the prizes. Gertrude's fury at this disruption to such a significant event had to be seen to be believed. She stalked the corridors of her college until she came upon the hapless Alexandra. The trembling girl was brusquely escorted to Gertrude's study to await her fate, tearful, contrite and confused. Meanwhile the ceremony proceeded as planned, apologies having been made to the pedagogue deprived of her prize that evening. 




Appreciating Amanda Ch. 03



Gertrude insisted on my accompanying her to witness retribution, along with the deprived don, one Veronica Smythe. (Yes, Amanda, I know you know her intimately. I did so love watching you peeing in her mouth the other day by the lake. And she didn't spill a drop, did she? You are a clever girl for aiming so accurately. You are such a champion at raining on Veronica's sorry little parade, aren't you? Now hush.)

Anyway, as I was saying, Gertrude advised us that she intended to show us exactly how she dealt with careless young ladies as she steamed her way down the corridor, brushing all our endeavours to calm her rage to one side. I looked to Veronica and she shrugged helplessly, but I could tell from the light in her eye that she was really looking forward to the sufferings of Alexandra.

"Mrs De Vere," I said. "I have to tell you that I do know the girl concerned."

This stopped Gertrude in her tracks: "You do?"

"Yes. I also know her step-mother well."

"Ah. Karen."

"Yes. Karen. She has told me something of you."

"Nothing too deleterious, I trust?"

"I understand from Karen that you take your responsibilities and pastoral care way beyond conventional levels."

Veronica looked startled at this revelation. I held the wretched woman's wrist firmly to stop her departing and sharing this insight into Mrs De Vere's less well-known methods with the entire common room. Discretion is my watchword after all.

"I do like to be thorough. Yes."

"And do you consider that your endeavours as far as Karen and her step daughter have been concerned have resulted in success?"

"Not if today's proceedings are anything to go by."

"There are other ways you know."

"Indeed?" 

"Let me go ahead and talk to the young woman alone for a while. Wait in your secretary's office for fifteen minutes and then come in and join me."

I'll never know what went through their minds as I squared things with Alexandra next door. The girl was quite terrified having seen Gertrude's rage at first hand. Her fright turned to anger when I revealed what I had done, but I stopped her dead when I mimed once more my tongue sliding up and down Karen's nether regions. 

With a little persuasion, I liberated the young woman from her clothes and placed her on her hands and knees. She was soon naked save for the collar that I had placed so lovingly around her neck on her nineteenth birthday. The finishing touch was a fine leash, which dangled pleasingly down her spine, its dark leather providing a dramatic contrast to the pallor of her teenaged flesh. 

I picked up the envelope and placed it in Alex's mouth, just as Gertrude, impatient as ever, burst through the door, her acolyte hot on her heels. They paused, stunned by the sight before them. I touched the wooden desk superstitiously and wondered if this revelation was enough to calm the raging beast at the centre of Gertrude's being.

"Mrs De Vere," Alexandra whispered, after trotting across the floor and depositing the envelope at her principal's feet. "This bitch is very sorry for the distress caused and begs to make amends."

"Gertrude and Veronica," I smiled. "Allow me to present you with a real prize. Display pet."

Alexandra turned towards me and pressed her face down at my feet, splaying her thighs and positioning herself just as she had seen her mother doing. She reached behind her and spread her taut buttocks, showing off both cunt and arsehole to her astonished and apparently speechless elders.

"Good girl," I said, rewarding Alex by ruffling her hair and pressing her face against my sandaled foot, where she began to kiss and lick, just as she had seen her mother doing and just as she had practiced all through the long summer months. Could Gertrude be turned by the delightful presentation or would her disciplinary fixation win out when presented with student globes in such a provocative position? Of course she could. 

My heart was beating in my mouth, but my coaching won out. Gertrude, despite her bulk, seemed to shrink back from this nubile vision of beauty before her. Veronica, however, keen for spoils that day, seized hold of her prize in one hand and the leash in the other, tugging the young woman impatiently away from my foot and towards her thin-lipped mouth. 

Gertrude sat back and watched as Veronica laved the tight little pink-brown star that was, at that juncture, completely virgin. Her eyes bulged as Veronica's tongue slid between the precocious and also virginal slit, licking so assiduously that my new pet was soon mewling with pleasure.

"Just think, Gertrude," I cajoled, "how sweet this tender little bitch will look under your desk, licking and teasing you whenever you wish as deep as you need her to go. Come round here and take a look at how cleverly she manages to lick between my toes, even though I'm still wearing sandals."

I watched as Gertrude stood slowly looked down at Veronica kneeling on the floor behind the naked girl and then up at the birch hanging so temptingly on the wall over the fireplace. 

"Bitches can be naughty too, Gertrude," I added, disarming her with my words. "Sometimes they need to be whipped very soundly indeed, but not when they are sorrowful and repentant. Don't you agree, Alexandra?"

I bent down and pinched Alex's nipple hard making her squeak pleasantly.

"You may have a point, Jane," Gertrude grinned as she conceded her ground, casting one more wistful glance at the cane on the wall and then coming over to stand next to me. We both looked down at the innocent eyed girl before us, casting our eyes over the curve of her back. The smoothness of her flesh and the softness of her arse were both admirable, even though both were flecked with Veronica Smythe's spittle by this time.

"If you come round to afternoon tea with me and Alexandra, you may well find that I have several points, dear lady." 

"I should absolutely love that," Gertrude gushed, watching as Alex's excitement washed over her colleague's face. Oh yes, Amanda, our sweet Alexandra is also quite the gusher when sufficiently roused. 

"Find girl," I grinned, as I felt Alex shiver away the last of her own pleasure. I hardly needed to tug the leash, which I had just seized from the rather damp Veronica. 

Alex, sweet obedient child that she is, was under Gertrude's skirt in an instant. She nosed her way up and I could see the outline of her features as she pushed the gusset of Gertrude's doubtless formidable underwear to one side with her teeth and tongue. And I could see the look of sheer delight on Mrs De Vere's face as Alexandra began to please her principal as only a star student pet can. 

"Do I please as much as Alexandra, miss?" Amanda murmured from between my thighs.

"Every pet is different, Amanda. Every pet has her place."

"And this girl's place?" 

"Your place is to be at my disposal."

"I do like this girl's place," Amanda smiled, watching happily as my hand softly extended down the side of her face, caressing softly. "Thank you for your direction, Jane."

"I like the way you move slowly moving under my guidance."

"I like the way your tongue slides over my tummy."

"Will you like it if I gently move to your other hip, my hand keeping contact with you, Amanda?"

"Always, miss. Contact is so important."

"It is your bond."

"It is the source of my contentment."

"You are beginning to mature under me."

"I like to be under you. I like the kisses and the feelings that course through my mind. Each touch is almost perfect."

"Good pet."

"Good Mistress."

"Come here girl. Join me on this bench and lay your head in my lap." 

"I love to curl up in your arms, miss."

"Close your eyes. Have a nap to make up for your restless nights"

"Yes miss."

"My fingers will awaken you at tea time."

"That's a lovely thought. Save me a rose."

"And the thorns of a rose may help too."

"How will they help, miss?"

"Your whimpers as I scratch and tease you will reawaken that sense of ownership in both of us..."



Appreciating Amanda Ch. 04



(In which Alexandra Kincaid's possibilities are exploited to the full and, deprived of her virginities, her relationship with her step-mother becomes closer than ever, having first been the central feature in several of Jane's tea time orgies. And Amanda learns by example, becoming a delightful bathroom accessory and then, with Jane and Alex's helpful interventions, making her reluctant way towards the desk where we first met her in chapter one.) 

Dear reader, there is one at least who finds Jane's recollections boring, passionless and devoid of feeling. Does this really matter? Why should Jane care about the immoral vicissitudes of some bored would-be wanker who needs some slippery juicy inserts to provide fodder for a quick masturbatory experience? Well to be absolutely honest, Jane does not give two figs.

Do you care? Or do you find my trip into some of the possibilities that submission presents intriguing for all its limitations? Tell me do you find that it is interesting to some to note the counter-veiling force that resides in many a submissive mind? 

I believe I do, but on the whole I don't seek out the views of those inclined to surrender to my will. I much prefer my former neighbour Karen's tongue curling around wetly, as she rims my arsehole, to listening to her nebulous views on the intellectual basis for her submission. 

Karen Kincaid was a real find, but I do, as you know, have a taste for younger flesh too. Even if Amanda and Alex are both rather too deliciously young to entertain any serious opinion on the matter of submissive philosophy, aren't you Amanda? 

"No: there is no need to stop; just keep that tongue rotating dutifully," I smiled. "Think how daddy would approve of his dear little eighteen year old child being so generous to his good friend."

In any case, who needs to complicate simple pleasures with post-hoc self-justifying doctrines? I am content to express myself in my action. One has no need for higher thought when one squats and pisses on the fresh and receptive faces of two reasonably well-educated and rather pretty young ladies, one still in her teens, one barely out of them, certain in the knowledge that they will soon be competing with each other to lick up any spillage that they have not managed to swallow? 

Amanda gets on so well with Karen's step-daughter, even if she is a couple of years older than her. They seem quite inseparable at times, particularly when bound together. I really do love the way that it is my flowing juices form the sticking glue to their deliciously Sapphic friendship as they kneel up obediently together to attend to my morning ablutions. 

The carefully carved mermaid pedestal that once served me in their stead sits dustily in a forgotten corner of the house, her chill porcelain replaced by the loving warmth of my two young pets, whose lips greet me at the start and end of each day.

Alexandra has been with me for nearly two years now. She is now just over twenty and is well used to my more perverse aspects. She has developed quite a taste for all activities I choose to use her for. Amanda, on the other hand, is still deliciously timid and blushes with every new discovery. Barely legal, just over the cusp of eighteen and already a wonderful little piss-slut for her mistress: she really makes me inordinately proud to own her. 

But let us hold on such bathroom antics. I am getting ahead of myself. As you may realise, dear reader, my mind does tend to wander occasionally. I have to admit that I don't always pay attention to all the important things like time passing by. 

My excuse a year ago, when Alexandra was enjoying our inter-connected gardens and my hands were in her knickers every other evening, was that caressing a young lady like her, helps ensure one lose track of time, as afternoon slides into evening. 

Of course there can be a bit of a to-do when a frustrated parent like Karen returns to find her beloved daughter in the arms of a lover. This is especially the case when that lover has been fucking said parent doggy style every other night for the past year with a rich assortment of dildos, gel filled toys, and strap-ons of the most sizeable proportions. 

I really don't think any excuse would have cut much ice with Karen, had I not made her fully aware of all I expected from her that day. The message was reinforced with a firm thrashing – breasts, belly and buttocks - to ensure Karen memorised my plan in every minute detail. 

Mrs Kincaid is a great actress when it comes down to it. We had rage, anguish and absolutely lashings and lashings of tears. It was only then did that vexed stepmother administered to her daughter the most blistering bottom beating that I have ever had the pleasure to witness. I am still surprised to recall how her hand lasted as long as it did. 

And as for Alex's poor rump! Well words are simply not adequate to detail the rich rainbow hues that resulted from Karen's earnest endeavours in the walloping department. 

She had the poor girl over her lap for what seemed like an age, slapping with a degree of force that surprised me (and secretly delighted me).

Karen is clearly not wholly submissive. What responsible mother ever is? It was most fortuitous, from Alexandra's perspective at least, that I'd brought along a second strap-on that evening. There was an almost serendipitous combination of responsibility and revenge that ensured Karen donned the toy and took care of all the built up tensions within them both in spades. 

It was even better that I'd eagerly loosened the young lady up over the previous year. Having been deprived of her anal virginity during the celebrations that followed her twentieth birthday, (and I don't think I will ever forget the whoop of victory that Gertrude, my predecessor at University College, had let out as she sank in for the very first time), Alexandra had become a real help to me and a star treat for my guests during my at home days... 

I am not mean spirited and am very keen to share things where possible, appropriate and opportune. The few ladies who munch in Peddington are delighted to take tea with me about once a month; and they do so like their little treats. The predatory look on the head teacher of Peddington Further Education College, when she saw the tight star of her former student displayed on my tea table; in lieu of the usual stacked plates of little cakes and scones had to be seen to be imagined. And, as you will have gathered, dear reader, the sizeable Mrs De Vere is inordinately fond of little cakes and scones.  

"Jane," she said as she bent down to have a little taste. "You have quite surpassed yourself, but..."

"I know, Gertrude," I smiled appreciatively and lifted up the lid of the butter dish.

"You wonder," she cried delightedly. "How did you know I love a little butter with my buns?"

"We've known each other long enough to have a very good idea of each others' tastes," I smiled, dipping my finger into the butter and pressing my freshly greased digit into the exceedingly tight nether hole of Mrs De Vere's former student. "I think she is going to be quite delicious. Would you like jam too?"

"Oh no," grinned Gertrude as she slid her pudgy finger up and then down the slit of Alex's recently shaven pussy. She giggled school girlishly, as only a head teacher caught with a former student's panties down can do, as she watched me pull my finger out and present it to Alexandra's eager, young mouth. 

Then Gertrude followed my example by plunging the ball of her thumb into the pat of butter and then into the tight configuration of Alex's delighted rosette, exclaiming happily in the process: "I think that she is quite sticky enough for me already."

"This is going to be most educational," cooed the Mary Higgins, supervisor of sluts, all ready for a treat, as she divested herself of her own voluminous knickers. She spread her legs open to the receptively, kissable possibilities of Alex's tender young lips, the dampness already gathering on her infamously hairy cunt. "I do so love seeing trainees go on to bigger and better things."

And there were several bigger and better things arranged around Alex on the table. I'd had the girl neatly wrap several dildos with serviettes earlier that day and leave them neatly arranged on the table. 

Gertrude hardly wasted a moment, unwrapping two and lifting them to apply them to Alex's tight little nether holes. Greedy as ever, my friend pressed home the largest one into the girl's bottom, without the least concern for the look of apparent shock that passed quickly across Alex's face. I suspect Alex gets her actress streak from her upbringing in Karen's tender loving household. 

Veronica, that insolent half-smile on her face as ever, gently prized Gertrude's hand from the smaller toy. She made to insert it within the still virgin tightness until I hinted my disapproval with a clicking tongue. She looked at me puzzle, still not realising that she was about to trespass on forbidden territory and so I was obliged to speak my mind on the matter. 

"Veronica. That delightful slit is private and reserved, as well you should know," I almost snarled. 

Subdued, Veronica reluctantly deposited the interestingly shaped toy to the table. Then she shrugged and decided to make the best of things by kneeling back behind the girl, ready to watch her principal in action. I raised my eyebrows and caught Gertrude's eye, but she just smiled and pushed in further, her brusque movement precipitating Alex forward into the welcoming jungle of Mary's untrimmed bush. 

"I've looked after the educational aspirations of this bottom for nearly two years: that's quite long enough to know its capacity as it matriculates," Gertrude explained. She raised her voice slightly, so as to be heard above Mary's happy warbling in the background as she closed her eyes to enjoy Alex's indelicate munching to the full. 

"Why not go easy on my pet for today, Gertrude," I said, reaching across my charge's body to touch Gertrude's shoulder affectionately. "You have, after all, additional lubrication at your disposal, and I'm sure dear Veronica will oblige us."

"Of course, you are quite right," Gertrude agreed and withdrew the large phallus from Alexandra's anal tract. The pop as it was released was most satisfying, but not quite as pleasing as seeing the vinegary look Veronica gave her principal as Gertrude pressed the dirty implement against Veronica's lips. 

I tell you, dear reader: Veronica Smythe's saliva has great properties. The dildo seemed quite shiny and new by the time Gertrude finally returned it to the glistening, buttery opening between Alexandra's well-spread arse cheeks. Madonna would have been thrilled to know that I will certainly endeavour to have Smythe on hand when I finally take the anal virginity of that dear, sweet child, Amanda.

I have to say it can be quite difficult to ignore the withering looks that Veronica can give mind. She would have caused lemons to shrink with the look she cast in my direction, as her beloved leader instructed her to arch her neck and lick the penetrating phallus as it drove in and out of our young friend's sphincter. Despite this, she obliged, feeling the pressure of stronger minds bearing down on her, tasting and pleasing her own servile nature, as Gertrude and I exchanged knowing looks.

"You kept Alex on, nevertheless," I enquired politely, ignoring Veronica. The use of one's acolytes to ease any potential dryness is certainly a method that I can approve of. I am sure that we will make Amanda's introduction to sodomy a memorable occasion for all present. A well-looked after pet is a pleasing pet in my book and Amanda is so much more pleasing than many. 

"Could you resist such a sweet young thing between your thighs?" Gertrude expanded happily, pressing in to the fullest extent, thus ensuring that Alex also expanded to the maximum to accommodate her. As she resumed her penetrating insights into Alex's derriere with all the verve and élan that one had come to expect of such a distinguished local luminary, I reached for my camera to record the delicious event for the delights of those unable to be present.

"Mary evidently can't," I grinned, putting down the camera after a few snaps and diverting Gertie's thoughts from my own proclivities, as we both turned to watch the happy conjunction as Mary slipped into utter bliss.

Later that afternoon, Mary and Gertrude sandwiched my young protégée across that table, each with toy in hand, expanding Alex's anal capacity to new limits as she looked up at me with a look of sheer adoration on her face. I'll tell you that I never had to thinly slice cucumbers again for my little tea time treats. And Gertrude has shown the most interesting way of acquainting a young lady with an un-sliced green gourd... 

Regular and increasingly undignified exchanges with my ladies over the subsequent months didn't stop Alexandra from shrieking deliciously when she first accommodated her stepmother's thrusting in her pussy. She had been saved for that incestual connection despite the worst intentions in Veronica's fevered brain... 

As I was saying earlier, there is an almost serendipitous combination of responsibility and revenge that ensured my former neighbour Karen and sharer of my bed donned my spare strap-on toy once summer afternoon to take care of all the built up tensions within her and her twenty year old step stepdaughter, Alexandra. 

Both stepmother and child displayed gratifying modesty when I first introduced them to the opportunity to share their innermost desires. And yet it was an important occasion. Virginity once lost is lost forever. Who better than a stepmother to ensure that the action with be decisive, pleasantly painful and memorably Sapphic? 

Karen played her part magnificently, thrusting in with a vigour that bordered on real dominance, but showing a true motherly tenderness as the last innocent tears flowed down Alex's cheeks, and virginal blood trickled from that broken hymen. Then she pulled away from the girl and lay down on the grass, the bloodied phallus hanging limply from her thighs. Alex looked at the instrument that had so recently deflowered her and then up at me, awaiting permission for further gratification. 

I nodded and soon Alex was riding the thick instrument attached to Karen's thighs as her stepmother reached up to play with her tits. As Alex straddled her stepmother, she winced at the soreness as the rubber member, pressed home, past lubricated labia, into the honeyed cunt. Then she lifted herself back up, sighing as she fucked, squealing delightedly as Karen's humping motions added to the young lady's pleasure. 

Standing over the two, I watched their conjunction for a short while and then pressed Alex down by the shoulders so that she could engage in a long and loving kiss with her stepmother. Their tongues were well exercised and Alex's rump was well raised, presenting a delectable opportunity for me to assert my authority over both of them. 

Not one to be a bystander forever, I cemented the familial connection by anchoring Alex to me with a large phallus in her by now receptive anal passage and crushing Karen beneath our shared weight. This domestic sandwiching would have been no small feat for a young and relatively inexperienced girl, had it not been for the interest of my ladies, keen as ever on the advancement of youth in the service of their elders and betters. 

And talking of advancement and rapprochement - how could I ever forget how a mere six months later, stepmother and daughter celebrated a most libidinous threesome with me at midnight on the lawn when the place was finally bought by Amanda's father? The mewling of step-mother and daughter copulating at midnight would have made cats jealous. 

How could anyone ever hope to emulate the way their tongues worked in tantalising combination as they slid into my sex and my arse, in one of the most delightful stepmother-daughter surrenders that I have ever experienced in my life?

Dear reader, you may wish to know that their singular abandon was fortified by two bottles of Spanish wine that I had brought over to them to wish them well. Alcohol is a great lubricant, but it isn't always necessary. James, Amanda's father, for instance, is a teetotaller, whilst my darling Amanda, is rather too young for such excesses. I will not water her pleasures, but I would rather my sweet darling satisfyingly wicked rather than plastered on WKD and other young people's drinks. 

As such, I am quite content with my new neighbours, even though it was sad to see Karen on her way to a smaller, more affordable house, now that Alex is living away from home as administrative assistant to Mrs De Vere. 

Sometimes I turn in my bed, waking with a start and remember how much I used to enjoy those ever so neighbourly tongues; but who am I to be filled with regret when there was new blood and new possibilities to delight my jaded palate. 

In any case Karen was still working off her debt to me at the college. She has acquired a typists stool to use, whenever I get over enthusiastic with the cane or when Mrs De Vere calls round to exercise unrestrained usage of stepmother and daughter in disciplinary combination. 

Alex isn't lost to me either. She regularly comes over to spend the night with me, though she's often quite exhausted after a long day under Gertrude's desk. I look after her as well as any caring mistress would. I have been gifted a large purpose-made basket at the foot of my bed for when both my pets stay. It quite jolly to see Alex curling up there with Amanda before licking away my spending as they drift off to sleep together. 

The girls love to compare marks and even I'm impressed by the accuracy and precision of Gertrude's strokes. Admittedly, she has the benefit of all those student bottoms to educate. These days I generally only have two gardens, the lakeside view and Amanda's sweetness to savour most of the time...

And what did Amanda's immediate family think of my plans? Well, I hope I was discrete enough not to draw James's attention to the way I was converting Amanda into the most disreputable slut a mistress can conjure with. 

Call me manipulative if you like, but my pointing out the various plants that James had inherited in his new garden gave me ample opportunity to observe Amanda at a range of angles. And this was even before I managed to work my fingers into her delightfully girlish panties. I would come over with cuttings from my own plants that he gratefully accepted and help him to plant them, while watching Amanda flower through the spring. Early in May, James invited me over to supper, when Amanda was having an evening with Alexandra. 

As we sat back over coffee he suddenly moved from our customary shared interests to disclosure. He poured out his anxieties as I held his hand. He was almost tearful as I listened to him telling how he'd just wanted to distance himself from his past. He almost regretted the way that he had sold-up so precipitatively and spent the last few years trying to find some solace. 

In that one evening I learnt how lonely he actually was. As his fury at his former partner had abated, a real emptiness had gradually filled his heart. Eventually he had headed to this larger university town, knowing that there was a sizeable market amongst the dons for his somewhat esoteric trade. Even here, he found himself an outsider with few acquaintances other than the very people I had pushed in his direction. 

They knew better than to intervene and kept their distance, leaving him in the same social vacuum that he'd found in other places since he'd been cuckolded so thoroughly. I was some compensation for his hermit-like isolation amongst the adult community of Peddington. Our mutual interests had made him ever more eager for my company, but he had other concerns too. 




Appreciating Amanda Ch. 04



His immediate hope was that Amanda would choose to remain home-based when you continued with her studies. It was good to be able to empathise with him genuinely on that. I was quite tempted to recommend Gertrude's establishment, but decided instead to just listen to him. My quiet empathy that evening led to cuddling; and cuddling to kissing; and kissing to pressing down until, before you could say "an occasional male submissive can make a dominate complete", he was on his knees in his living room, licking my ankles and calves with the best of them. 

Apparently he'd been cuckolded by a man of allegedly more ample proportions than him. The nagging thought of his inadequacy in this department made him ashamed of his masculinity. And who was I to disabuse him of this destabilising thought?

I watched pityingly as he kissed my foot and murmured to him to remove my shoes. It was amazing to see the transformation once he had slipped one off. He was like a puppy on the scent and I couldn't resist encouraging him by flicking my other shoe in his face. 

James made love to it and then slid his tongue to the underside of it, completely enjoying the shape. I moved my foot away, catching the thin pointed heel on the side of his face. A red weal came up and he seemed to sigh with pleasure at the pain I'd inflicted.

"Take it off," I ordered. "There's a good boy."

He looked up at me his face filled with joy and then removed it, kissing the heel that had inflicted the damage in grateful appreciation of the service it had rendered. Then he started to lick my stockings, worshipping my foot with every touch. It was nice, but not as nice as Alex and certainly not as nice as I knew Amanda would prove to be. Still, I thought quite cynically, like father like daughter. Let him behave like a demented foot fetishist if that pleases him.

"So your wife's lover fucked her with his big cock for a long time?" I asked, lifting his chin up with my foot to see how much he blushed at that.

"Too long," he sighed.

"But not long enough in the cock department."

"Nor large enough...mistress..." he ventured shyly.

"So little James has a tiny, tiny, little cock, does he?"

"Yes mistress."

I pulled my leg back out of his hands: my foot was starting to feel sodden with his drooling. He looked at me wistfully.

"Don't look at me," I snapped and pulled a face at him.

"Sorry Mistress."

"You disgust me."

"Yes Mistress."

"Show me your pathetic excuse of a cock," I commanded.

"Yes Mistress Jane," he said and sat bolt upright before beginning by undoing his belt.

"And make it snappier than that, you wretched little weasel," I taunted, "before I get completely bored with you."

"Yes mistress," he repeated dully. He was all fingers and thumbs as he hastened to tug his trousers down. I was tempted to hide my amusement to see him left untidily in shirt and underpants, but thought to hell with all scruples tonight. He looked utterly feeble kneeling up there, a middle-aged man half-dressed, before a woman ten years his junior. He hesitated and looked to me for guidance.

"Lose those glamorous Y fronts, you pathetic old man," I instructed and he slid them off, blushing, perhaps at my withering remarks or perhaps in anticipated embarrassment at my seeing his shrivelled penis. Never disobliging when it comes to others expectations, I looked at his sorry state and reached over to touch the wrinkled object of my assumed derision. 

As I fondled him, I began to giggle. The giggles slowly turned to laugher and then a full blown guffaw as I watched his face darken with humiliation mixed with ill-concealed rage. In actual fact he was reasonably well-endowed in fact, but this is all perception: you plant that seed of doubt; then you sow it, you water it and then you watch the results.

"Hurry up and get completely undressed, you naughty boy," I told him off, knowing instinctively how to push his buttons. "And don't point that wretched little cocky at me."

He hid himself from me, like a dirty boy caught playing with himself in the shower and removed the remainder of his clothes. I sipped my coffee slowly and slipped my shoes back on, reinforcing the differences between us. Then I stood up and, from his perspective at least, towered over his kneeling form.

"Lay down on your tummy, you pathetic little man," I sneered. James had been walked all over by his ex-wife and who was I to change past habits. I don't often wear stilettos, but that night my lovely red shoes walked the walk all over that lonely man...and he loved it. 

We'd had to move the coffee table out of the way while I enjoyed my little stroll across his receptive body. I found my coffee cup was quite out of reach when I sat back down on the sofa, watching him breathing heavily, as he lay belly up and naked on the rug. 

I clicked my tongue in an irritated fashion and leaned forward. A whispered intimacy and the veiled threat of my hand squeezing, as it clasped his balls brought him to attention. I was quite surprised at his athleticism as he lifted himself up, pressing down with his hands to form a gangling arch, his legs and arms curving back on themselves and his limp penis dangling against one thigh.

"You are quite fit for a middle aged man, aren't you?"

"I like to exercise," he puffed, pushing his belly up proudly and holding his pose, with only the slightest hint of a tremor. I have to say that he performed excellently as my coffee table, not even complaining when I split a little hot coffee on his chest. It was entirely his fault for trembling too much as I brought him to orgasm by manipulating his cock and balls. My pressing a gloved finger into his anus to stimulate his prostate took him over the edge, and rocked the remains of my now luke-warm coffee across his belly, mixing with the semen that he'd gushed only moments before. 

"And you are a dirty little boy, aren't you, James?" I encouraged him, standing up and moving across to him. 

"Yes mistress."

"You will most certainly be paying for the mess you've made of my rug."

Then I sat down, cross-legged before him, and began to play with his balls, rocking them with my fingers, squeezing them and, finally, tying a mauve ribbon around them. I reached across to my sewing basket and pulled out some thick tape of a similar hue – I do like compatible colours. As I wounding the sticky tape around his lower limbs, he sighed, happy to be toyed with,

"Yes, Mistress," he snivelled, nicely immobilised after five minutes of my energetic accessorising of his accommodating body. His lower limbs neatly linked together and his crab-like disposition could be sustained even when he tired, enveloped as he was in my apparently loving, but slightly uncharitable web of protection.

"You lack discipline and self-control."

He nodded his head in agreement, well moved it slightly, given that my foot was resting against it at the time.

"As does your daughter..."

"What do you mean?" he started up, wanting to get up, but only succeeding in making the well wound tape stretch a little in such give as it has. I have some very reliable stationery suppliers, who know my needs intimately. 

"I'm just returning to your sorry, little confession, James," I said waspishly and pressed my calf against his aching neck hard. With all that strengthened and confining tape draped around him he was simply unable to rise, as I delivered the denouement: "Sometimes, a girl needs to see just what her father is like, don't you, Amanda?"

He struggled against me, but in vain. I had him just where I wanted him. The fact that he looked completely ridiculous was not lost on him or on dear Amanda, as she emerged from one of my guest rooms, hand-in-hand with Alexandra, two naked nymphs fresh from love-making in the bed I'd thoughtfully provided for them, shortly before his arrival.

"Daddy," Amanda exclaimed, as I took hold of the little pink knickers that I had removed from the room while Amanda was enjoying such felicitous connections with dear sweet Alexandra. The way Amanda's tongue slid into Alex's tight, little crack was so distracting that I could hardly tear myself away, particularly as Alex was, unbeknownst to Amanda, beckoning me to join in their fun. 

However, self-denial in the short run served my overall end. I dangled Amanda's angelic little knickers over her papa's upturned face and then spread the thin fabric across him, so that he could not help but inhale the scent. 

Then I tugged the covering away and saw the sheer disappointment and utter defeat in his eyes. Had Amanda been a little closer to me at the time, she would have seen the drool of saliva trickling up over his cheek, even before I pressed his mouth open with my gloved hand and slid the underwear saturated with her filial juices between his unresisting lips.

"Amanda," I murmured distractedly. 

"Yes Jane?"

"Come here and kiss my hand: every gloved finger in turn, including the one which was probing your dear daddy's prostate – no DON'T shy away – do it now – ah yes you suckle so well my dear."

"Y-yes," Amanda gulped.

"Please remember that it's Miss Jane from now on," I smiled sweetly, "that is, if you and your dear obliging papa don't mind, pet."

"Yes, Miss Jane," Amanda grimaced, trying to control her urge to regurgitate her tea at the thought of where my fingers had been playing and what she had just licked off my glove.

I had no time for such niceties: "It seems you've been a very naughty pet, girl. Not only have you disobeyed your father by idling your time away in my bed when you should have been spending time at your books; but I do believe he is discovering exactly how much young Alex played with you there, even before Alex stripped them from you. Isn't he?"

I kicked James and drew a sorry nod from him. Amanda looked aghast.

"And what has Alexandra told you about naughty pets, Amanda?"

Amanda said nothing and closed her eyes.

"They get pleasured, miss," Alexandra said hesitantly, seeing me beckoning her forward. She came up behind Amanda, still quite naked and shameless, and wrapped her arm around Amanda waist. That girl is always keen to help me out these days.

"Quite right, Alex: and where do they get pleasured, Amanda sweetheart?" I smiled, eager to draw Amanda out, as I refilled my coffee cup and placed the hot saucer on James's already slightly scarred belly. 

He flinched and Amanda shrugged. I could barely restrain the imminent gust of helpless laughter as I saw that they both looked to Alexandra for the answer; but Alex, like the well-trained pet, she was, stayed absolutely silent until permitted to speak. "Well, Alex, would you care to enlighten my new pet?"

"Across their mistress's coffee table, if you please," Alex whispered, taking in the scene and the implications of her words. 

"That's a good girl. And as you can see, I have acquired a brand new coffee table."

"Yes miss," the two girls chorused, looking wide-eyed from my coffee cup to Amanda's father's naked belly and beyond.

"Why don't you pop across to my playroom, Alex?"

"As you wish, Mistress Jane"

"I'd like you to bring me that rather nice strap-on that Karen used on you last summer."

"Yes Mistress."

"The one your dear step mama took your virginity with."

"Not the big one then?"

"No: moderation in all things."

"That's not what you told Mrs De Vere, mistress."

"You loved those excesses of and don't you deny it. I can still hear you yowling as Gertrude used the bigger one so effectively up your tight young anus. Now go do as you were instructed, you naughty bitch."

Alex grinned at the memories of those sweet encounters: "Right now miss?"

"Yes dear; right now. Sometimes heaven can't wait. Now Amanda..."

"Yes J...Miss Jane," Amanda said hesitantly.

"Look at your papa chewing so enthusiastically on your underwear."

Amanda looked quickly and then lowered her head, staring decisively at the floor, utterly embarrassed on her father's behalf.

"Why, I do declare he's got himself a little stiffy," I teased. "I wonder if it was seeing you, his lovely innocent daughter, completely naked before him."

"I don't know, miss," Amanda shuddered and looked intently at the floor.

"Touch yourself for your daddy and me, pet," I insisted evilly. "Show us just how damp your dear little pussy is from entertaining Alex's lovely tongue. Spread the labia – there's a good girl – show him how pink and pretty you are inside as well as out."

"Yes miss," Amanda muttered dully, head still bowed and yet obedient, despite all her self-evident reservations. I watched James stiffen further as he looked at his daughter. 

His head was inverted comically, as was his value system. His petit-bourgeois morality withered on the vine as he looked at her and sucked in the taste of her crotch. Who knows what thoughts flashed through his mind? I think we both have more than several inklings, don't we dear reader?

"Amanda," I said eventually, coming over and lifting her chin. She didn't respond, so I took hold of her glorious mane of hair, scrunching it in my fist and tugging her across to James. 

She hardly resisted at all. As such it wasn't long before she was standing over his face, feeling my hand in the small of her back. I pressed her down onto his arched torso until she was faced by the paternal prick from which her mother was seeded nineteen years earlier.

"Your father tells me that he feels you can be rather too undisciplined at times."

Amanda gulped and closed her eyes, but I knew that she agreed in that oh so demure, yet submissive heart of hearts of hers.

"You are a good student, but your mind does tend to wander," I declared, as Alexandra strapped me up carefully. "Open your eyes, pet, but there is no need to do anything that comes unnaturally." 

"Yes miss," Amanda sighed with relief, trying to lift herself off my "coffee table" and break the connection between her young belly and her father's clammy flesh. 

"As your papa may be permitted to tell you later, every bitch has her day," I smiled and walked forward until I was nicely positioned between her father's legs. Then I reached down, and dug my nails into his scrotum, causing a moan from between Amanda's spread legs and a speedy wilting of his previously erect member. "And today is my day. You belong to me, Amanda, and I intend to enjoy my ownership in every respect tonight."

"Yes mmfff," Amanda began only to be interrupted, as I pressed home my rights and my strap-on into her delectable mouth. 

"Hush dear. You know that mistress knows best."

I paused and smiled to see Amanda so intent on pleasing me as she became completely engaged with the task of moistening the strap-on round my waist in anticipation of its usage on other young holes. Only then, when I felt Alexandra's generous tongue working its insidious way into my fundament, was I completely carried away on that longed for wave of pure Sapphic joy.

"You will come to realise, just how much you are appreciated once this infamous toy has helped to do away with your virginity in the presence of your dear papa. And, Amanda Mountford," I enthused, "sometimes you really do need to be appreciated."

The End