Last Will and Testament
Author’s note: I wish to thank my editor and proofer, Jennifer Harrison, for her usual work and for helping with the later portions of this story. Also a special thanks go to a Danish submissive by the name of Joann, who helped me understand the mindset of the main character.
At the young age of twenty-six, Amy Jackson became the property of Deborah Harrington, the major share holder in Harrington Enterprises, and owner of a multitude of other properties and businesses world-wide. While odd to think of herself as just another piece of property that someone owned, Amy had become used to that designation during the previous four years.
To say her life took a dramatic turn at this juncture would be a gross understatement, though. Shocked that Mrs. Harrington would state that she owned her - even more shocking was how the older woman treated her. Shocked and incredibly aroused, would be more accurate.
At first she was caught flat-footed as her new Mistress took control of her. She just wasn’t prepared for that control, and hadn’t thought that Mrs. Harrington was ‘the type’ to be doing what she was. Somehow she had totally misjudged the woman, but quickly learned that her Mistress took her role seriously!
On the day following her submission to her Mistress, Amy was doing her normal Tuesday dusting, with the exception that it was her Mistress checking on her work, not Miss Laurel. She began, as usual, in one of the many guest bedrooms at the far east end of the mansion. Moving on to the next room, she was startled when Mistress Deborah called her from the doorway to come with her.
Returning to the first room, Deborah ran her finger along the top of a wall mounted television set and came away with a dust-covered finger.
“How long have you been dusting these rooms, Amy?”
How long? “Well…quite awhile, ma’am, maybe, um, a couple of months?
“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Deborah growled.
“Yes, a couple of months, ma’am,” Amy tried to sound confident, but her nervousness was evident in her voice.
“Am I your ma’am?” Deborah stood with her feet apart and her hands on her hips, looking intently at the girl before her.
“Mistress! I meant Mistress!” This was not going well!
“Get your cloth and do this properly.”
“Yes, Mistress!” Amy ran from the room to get her dust cloth from the next room over.
Just then Laurel appeared with some papers on a clipboard that seemed to demand Deborah’s attention and the two of them walked off down the hall. Amy was somewhat relieved that Mrs. Harrington had been called away as this first encounter had left her slightly shaken. She hurried to get her cloth, spray some Endust on it, and eliminate the offending dust. Scanning the room, she quickly sought out any other surfaces she might have missed.
Hustling back to the second room, she retraced her steps to ensure that nothing had been overlooked. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves.
I’m just dusting, for crying out loud! she thought. But she knew it was more than being nervous over having Mrs. Harrington suddenly monitoring her work. It was the mounting feeling of excitement over having a Mistress that was making her nervous. It was the realization that something was happening to her that seemed almost too good to be true.
Half an hour later, that excitement was piqued even further when a faint noise caused her to turn and see her new Mistress standing there in the doorway, observing her, with a crop in her hand. Returning to her work, the nervous young woman made sure each surface in the room that required dusting was attended to properly. She had never been so comprehensive in her dusting before, but now it seemed the most important thing in the world to her.
The next room she came to happened to be the private library. There was a larger library on the first floor that was mostly for show, but this was the library that her former Master came to when he wanted to relax and read. The wood was a dark mahogany, and the chairs were all soft and comfortable. She thought about Charles, and decided she would think of him as her former Master, not as her dead Master. That seemed so much better and eased the aching that was still in her heart.
As was her normal routine, Amy pulled the sliding ladder along its rail to the first tall section of books and climbed up to dust the upper most shelves and then began work her way down. She had just finished with the top self and had stepped down three rungs to dust the next lower shelf when Deborah appeared, having just finished inspecting the previous room.
“Come down, Amy,” Deborah commanded.
Amy looked down to see her Mistress standing at the foot of the rolling ladder, crop in hand. She held the ladder and climbed down to the floor, wondering what she had done now. She had been very careful with her cleaning, and would be very surprised if her Mistress had found something she had missed.
Deborah moved the crop so that the end went beneath Amy’s short black maid’s dress and then lifted the hem.
“Do you normally wear panties?”
“Yes, Mistress, my…former Master, instructed me to wear them when I was doing my chores.” Amy blushed a little from discussing her panties with Mrs. Harrington. She had called her down from the ladder to ask her that?
“Well, no more,” she said, lowering the crop and letting the fabric fall back into place. “Remove them at once.”
Blushing even more, the blonde bent at the waist to loop her fingers up under her skirt and around the elastic of her white panties. She wiggled them down her legs, stepped out of them, and held them out for her Mistress.
“I don’t want them!” Deborah said as she swatted her slave’s wrist with the crop. “Put them in your mouth.” When she saw Amy’s look of surprise, she said, “This will remind you of how you are to dress from now on.”
Now the heat from her blush radiated from her cheeks. Not only that, but her entire body seemed to be aglow! Was her whole body blushing? Is that even possible? The embarrassed young woman lifted her hand to her mouth and began to poke the cotton panties into her mouth with her fingers. They seemed moist! Her fingers felt the dampness as she poked more and more of the fabric into her mouth.
Tears came to her eyes as she realized her panties were wet from her arousal! She had never been so embarrassed in all of her life! Not only that, but she could smell her arousal on the fabric as she stuffed the last bits of cloth past her lips. The panties filled her mouth, and the humiliation she felt as her Mistress stood watching her, holding her crop between both hands, made her blush all the more as her emotions fueled her arousal.
“Back to work now,” Deborah said sharply and used the crop to tap Amy’s ass through the fabric of the short skirt. “And step it up a little. You’re moving too slow.”
“eth ithteth!” Amy said through the fabric in her mouth. She held the ladder and ascended to the shelf she had left off on and quickly ran her cloth across the surface. Letting out a little squeal in surprise, she felt a hand on her leg and looked down briefly to see Mrs. Harrington looking up at her.
How could she work!! Mrs. Harrington was caressing her legs as she stretched out to reach the far ends of that section of shelving, and she was down there…looking up! Looking up at her bare bottom under her dress, no doubt! Looking at her sex! She held the ladder more tightly with one hand as she finished dusting the shelf with the other.
Stepping down to floor level now, Amy went about her chores with diligence, even as her Mistress stood and watched her. After they had moved to the next room, Miss Laurel joined them again, and sat with Mistress Deborah at a small table, chatting, while Amy dusted around them.
When she finally got to the table, and crawled under it to dust the legs, she heard her Mistress say, “Did you bring them?”
From beneath the table, Amy heard a tinkle sound, like a little bell.
“Up on your knees, slave.”
Mrs. Harrington had never called her ‘slave’ before, and after how she had been treating her all day, the words made her heart beat twice its normal rate! Slave! She hadn’t realized how desperate she was to hear that word, and now that it had been spoken she felt as though her heart would just burst with joy!
Crawling from beneath the table, Amy rose up onto her knees and placed her hands behind her back, pressing her breasts out in front of her as she did. Her years of servitude to Master Charles had ingrained the position into her psyche, and it came as natural to her as did breathing. She held her head up, while looking down at the floor in front of her. Scooting her legs a little further apart, she easily balanced upon them. It was Master’s wish that she always present herself properly, to make her body available to Him. That she now knelt in front of Mrs. Harrington, her Mistress, in such a fashion made her shiver with excitement.
“Help me with this, Laurel dear,” Deborah said as the two women rose from their chairs. Amy saw a strip of something dark fall past her eyes and then felt her hair being pulled up in the back. It wasn’t until she felt the strip pulled tight against her neck that she realized she was being collared. A slight tug behind her, and the sound of a click, told her the collar had been locked on.
Her hair was released and her Mistress stroked her head, smoothing down her hair. “There, now, that looks better, don’t you think so?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young housekeeper replied. “Much better.”
Amy could hear the smile in Miss Laurel’s voice, and knew the two women were playing with her. It felt so good!
“Do you feel better now, slave?” Deborah placed her crop under Amy’s chin and pressed upwards, forcing her head up. “Look at me, slave! Does it feel better to wear my collar around your neck?”
Amy glanced up at her Mistress and nodded.
Laurel laughed at the muffled response. “What’s she got in her mouth?” The brunette bent down to look more closely.
“Show Miss Laurel what’s in your mouth, slave,” Deborah said, her voice teasingly seductive.
Amy looked over at the housekeeper, and opened her mouth, showing the white panties stuffed within.
“Take them out and show them properly!” growled Mrs. Harrington.
Amy reached up and used two fingers to extract the sodden panties from her mouth and held them up for Miss Laurel to see.
“You’ve gotten your little panties all wet,” Deborah said as she pressed upwards on Amy’s chin a little harder with the crop, forcing her head to turn in her direction.
Of course they’re wet! They’ve been in my mouth! the young woman thought, but her training once again dictated her response. She had been broken long ago of the sin of making excuses or attempting to talk her way out of perceived trouble. Brutal sessions at the receiving end of her Master’s whip allowed the proper words to flow easily from her lips. Not only was her answer automatic, but also heart-felt.
“I apologize, Mistress!” Amy cried out, wishing she could hug her Mistress’ legs in submission. The crop beneath her chin signaled her to remain upright, though, and she waited for a response from her Mistress.
Amy’s response had surprised Deborah as she stood waiting for the obvious excuse so that she could use her crop to discipline her new slave. She was left speechless for a few seconds before her mind shifted gears and she was able to recover.
“Put them back where they belong and get back on all fours.”
Since she had been forbidden to wear them, that left only one place where they might belong, and a moment later the white cotton panties were once again filling her mouth.
On her hands and knees now, Amy wasn’t sure if she should resume her dusting, or not. She felt the end of the crop rubbing against her leg, and then heard her Mistress telling Miss Laurel that she would see her in the morning.
Amy knew now that her Mistress would be supervising her, personally, the rest of the day. With the leather thong of the crop stroking the back of her leg, the thought of that was stoking her arousal even more.
What an incredible day it had been so far! Beginning with the scene she had unwittingly caused in the dungeon that morning, and then the appearance of Mrs. Harrington as she did her chores, she had spent the majority of the day highly aroused. Not only that, but her Mistress was playing with her, and allowing Miss Laurel to be a witness to this behavior. Without consciously thinking about it, she knew the inclusion of Miss Laurel signaled that her relationship with her Mistress was not going to be secreted away in the dungeon, as was her service to her former Master.
A hand on her bare ass jerked her out of her thoughts, and she looked back to see Mrs. Harrington kneeling down on one knee next to her.
“Look forward!” Deborah hissed as she swatted Amy’s tight rear end with her hand. Her hand returned to Amy’s flesh and began to rub her ass from her lower back to the top of her thigh.
What had started out as an aggressive rubbing had slowly turned into a very sensual caress. The young woman began to wonder how much more she could stand!! The pleasure she was experiencing came not solely from the tender touches of the hand upon her bare flesh, but from the knowledge that her Mistress was touching her so. Her Mistress! She still couldn’t believe it!
Amy gasped aloud when she felt the hand on her ass slide downward between her legs. She hobbled back and forth between her knees, moving her legs slightly further apart. It was too much! She was doing her best to suppress her arousal, but she feared the stimulation was becoming too great. Should she ask permission to cum? She knew she should, but was her Mistress expecting her to ask? Or was she purposely stroking her slit in an effort to make her cum? These thoughts, and more, flashed through her mind as the fingers behind her traced along the opening of her sex. Moving along her slit, they slid gently across her labia to the fleshy folds surrounding her clit.
A shift of Mrs. Harrington’s body next to her nearly made Amy look back again, but she maintained her position, not wanting to illicit another rebuke from her owner. Again she heard the slight tinkling of a bell and then felt a slight tugging on her clit hood. A bell of some sort was being attached to her piercing there!
“Ermi-ion oo um, ithreth!!” Amy blurted out through her panty gag, the need and urgency quickly answering her earlier questions.
The hands behind her returned to her ass, but she could sense that something had been left behind on her clit hood ring. The thought of it was keeping her as insanely aroused as the sensation itself.
“Does my little slave girl need to cum?” Deborah cooed above her as she used both hands to caress Amy’s ass. One hand ventured downward again, the fingers tracing a path through the wetness there and then flicking the little bell. Fingers on the other hand pinched a tad of the panties in Amy’s mouth and pulled them out, dropping the soaked fabric to the carpet.
Ding, ding. Ding ding.
“Yes! Please!” A cloud of lust was very quickly forming in Amy’s brain, but not so fast that it might cause her to forget whom she served. “If it would please you, Mistress!” she added.
The delirious slave felt a touch on her throat and then an upward force on the collar locked around her neck. She turned to follow the pull and saw her Mistress begin to stand.
“If you want to please me, I know how you might start.” Deborah sat in one of the plush armchairs and scooted forward, lifting her skirt as she did.
Amy understood immediately what the woman was asking of her, and moved closer so she could reach up under Deborah’s skirt and ease her panties down her tanned and well-toned legs. With her panties off, Deborah spread her legs and scooted even further towards the edge of the chair. Amy wasted no time in pressing her face against the light covering of black curls, her tongue extending into her Mistress’ slit and finding her to be quite wet.
“Christ!” Deborah cried out and pushed against Amy’s head with both hands. “Don’t rape me, pleasure me! Son-of-a-bitch!” She let go of her slave’s head.
Frightened by the sudden outburst, and then concerned that she had caused it, Amy stuttered, “I’m s..s..sorry! I didn’t m…mean to…”
“Stop your blubbering and do as I asked.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Amy took a breath to calm herself and moved forward. This had been a disaster so far, but she was determined to make things right; to please her Mistress. What had she been thinking, charging in like that? She felt clumsy and foolish now.
Leaning forward again, this time she began to kiss Deborah’s pussy and pubic mound, extending her affections to the silky soft thighs on either side of her head.
“Ooo, much better,” came the response from above her. Deborah’s hands came down between her legs and pulled her labia gently outward, exposing the pinkness within. “That feels so good, slave.”
Amy could hear her Mistress’ breathing change when she said the word, “slave.” There had been a sharp intake of air just before the word, as if the thought of saying it was bringing her some additional arousal. Amy hoped this was true, because hearing the word spoken was making her incredibly hot.
As she kissed the flesh around her Mistress’ pussy, through the haze of her own lust, Amy was aware of her desire to kiss the tender flesh her Mistress was exposing to her. She wanted it so badly she had to consciously restrain herself from rushing, and possibly displeasing her Mistress again. No, she would be gentle, and kiss her lovingly.
Starting with her fingers, the nervous slave kissed each gently, working her way slowly closer to the flesh that they held.
“Please…” Deborah moaned and scooted even closer to the edge of the chair.
Amy breathed out so that her hot breath warmed the flesh as her lips touched the tenderness that awaited her. She heard a tortured moan from above and saw the legs to either side of her rise up as Deborah’s back arched. She reached up with both hands and held the legs in place, ensuring that her Mistress did not slip from the chair, and then slid her tongue gently into her Mistress’ inner canal.
Deborah released her grip on her labia to steady herself on the arms of the chair as she climaxed. She cried out, startling her slave, who thought at first she had done something wrong again, but quickly understood it was quite the opposite.
“Finger yourself, slave!” Deborah gasped. “Let me hear that bell ring!”
For a second Amy was unsure if she had heard correctly. Finger herself? Pleasure herself? Yes, that’s what she said, and she wasted no time in complying. Releasing Deborah’s right leg, Amy reached down to her own crotch to stroke herself, surprising herself when her fingers accidentally brushed the little bell attached to her clit hood ring, and sending a sudden spurt of unexpected pleasure through her already sensitive clit.
Off balance now, Amy’s face pressed more firmly against Deborah’s crotch, smothering herself briefly until she regained her stance and balance. The sudden pressure seemed to cause her Mistress’ orgasm to either intensify, or begin anew. As for the slave, she was so close to begin with that it took only a matter of moments for her arousal to peak and overflow in wave after wave of mind crushing orgasm.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, the little bell’s constant sound could be heard ringing out it’s wearer’s pleasure as her fingers continued to stroke her sex. The sudden release of tension from the past few days of uncertainty, and the arousal that had built up over the last several hours, propelled her into states of ecstasy unknown to her before.
Concerned now that she had allowed her own pleasure to deprive her Mistress of the same, Amy looked up and saw that Mrs. Harrington was leaning back with her hands behind her head, looking down at her and grinning.
Amy turned beet red and placed her hand on the floor beneath her. “I apologize, Mistress. Do you want me to continue?”
“Hell, no!” the woman said as she sat up straight and adjusted her dress. “I don’t think I could take any more right now.”
Amy turned her head and lightly kissed Deborah’s knee. “I’m happy that you’re pleased.”
Deborah stroked her slave’s hair and said, “You don’t know how much I needed that.”
Amy kissed her Mistress’ other knee and thought, Amen!
Amy sat in the rich surroundings of her Mistress’ office, not really listening to the reading of the Will anymore. With Miss Catherine next to her, she needn’t pay attention to the proceedings. Her Miss would let her know if something that affected her was mentioned. With Her by her side, she felt secure now, and a little less out of place among the elite members of the Harrington clan.
Besides that, her thoughts of those first days with her Mistress had drawn her into herself, reflecting on her life and how her love for Deborah Harrington had grown.
How quickly Mrs. Harrington had taken charge of her had come as quite a surprise. It seemed that her Mistress was full of surprises! On the fourth day of her service to Deborah, she was led on a leash down the stairs and into the dungeon. Standing in the center of the room while her Mistress went to the wall to unwind the rope that went through a pulley overhead, Amy wondered where this action was leading, and what Mrs. Harrington planned on doing.
Obviously, she was going to use the rope to tie her in some manner, but did she know how, and what to do afterwards? She still viewed the older woman as somewhat of a novice and figured she was lacking in vision as to what to do with an actual slave.
If nothing else, Amy was a good slave, though, and she maintained her stoic stance; head up, eyes down, chest out, hands resting on the small of her back, legs shoulder width apart. According to her former Master, this was a classic slave position, and along with the kneeling counterpart, when at rest she was usually in one or the other of these positions.
Feeling warmth from behind, Amy braced herself mentally as she felt hands on her shoulders. Her Mistress just held her shoulders for a moment before reaching around to work the buttons of her black blouse. Her breathing shallow in anticipation, Amy felt the little tugs on the blouse as each button was released. Finally the fabric was pulled away and she lowered her arms to allow the blouse to be pulled down, and then returned them to their position behind her. Bare from the waist up now, she felt the hands come around in front of her and cup her breasts.
It felt divine, and Amy closed her eyes to soak in the sensation. But, after having aroused her nipples fully, those hands traced a path up to her armpits and then moved in so that her arms were being raised up over her head.
“I’ve thought about this for quite some time, Amy,” Deborah said as she clipped the carabineer at the end of the rope through the d-rings on Amy’s wrist cuffs.
“You have, Ma’am?” She had found that her Mistress didn’t seem to mind that she not call her Mistress every time she responded, after all. It did seem to get rather repetitive; yes, Mistress…right away, Mistress…of course, Mistress. She mixed in some ‘Ma’am’s’ when she could and had gotten away with it so far.
Deborah’s hands came back down Amy’s arms, caressing, stroking her flesh.
“Yes, I have.” Her hands roamed down the bound woman’s torso to her waist, her fingers looping into the waistband of her skirt and pulling downward, leaving her naked except for her black heels.
It was at this point that Amy resolved to stop being surprised by everything that her new Mistress said and did. It was obvious that she had totally misjudged the woman, as she had seen others do, and she knew she needed to discard everything she had previously assumed about her.
For how long has she thought about tying me up? she wondered. Her thoughts drifted back to Tuesday, when she had pleasured her Mistress in one of the guest rooms. That had been no random act that came on the spur of the moment. No, it had been much deeper than that. Even at the time she had felt there was more to it than a simple urge for release. Her Mistress had said only one word, “please,” and that one word was said with such emotion that it made Amy hot just thinking about it.
Had Mrs. Harrington secretly wanted to control her? To be her Mistress? She searched her memories as she pulled against the rope holding her hands over her head, testing the bondage that held her in place. There was nothing to indicate that Mrs. Harrington had wanted to control her. She had always felt that the Mistress of the house had disliked her, both by the manner in which she spoke to her and in the duties she was assigned to perform.
Amy felt Deborah’s hands on her ankles and then felt her leg being pushed to the side. Holding the rope above her, she lifted herself slightly to make it easier for her Mistress to position her where she wished. A tug on her other ankle and a slight clattering noise gave away that a spreader bar was being clipped between her ankles.
This was definitely getting more interesting by the second, but she paid little attention to it as she continued to work through Mrs. Harrington’s recent metamorphosis. As her thoughts turned the pages of the past year or so, she began to see the changes she had not seen at the time. Even before Deborah had discovered her beaten and hanging in the dungeon on her twenty-fourth birthday, she could see that the older woman had softened somewhat. But after that event, she had kept her closer at hand, ostentatiously to show others that the young whore would not intimidate her in her own house. But now she had to re-think even that. She saw now that Mrs. Harrington had been protecting her from her husband and his brother.
Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes as she realized how wrong she had been about the woman who now owned her.
Deborah stepped in front of her suspended slave and wiped a tear off of her cheek.
“Are you frightened, Amy?”
Keeping her eyes lowered, Amy saw the thick strand flogger in Deborah’s hand. How quickly her mood changed as she saw the implement that her Mistress had chosen to use on her.
“No, Mistress,” she replied, understanding that her Mistress had mistaken the reasons for her tears.
“You see the flogger,” Deborah said as she raised the end to press against Amy’s chin and lift her head a little. “You don’t fear it?”
“That’s my favorite flogger, Mistress. I look forward to suffering for you as you use it.”
Deborah removed the flogger from under Amy’s chin and walked around behind her.
“Well, I’ve never done this before, so I’d be at least a little nervous if I were in your place.”
Many comebacks came to Amy’s mind, but she held her tongue. Foremost in her mind was that she trusted her Mistress not to injure her on purpose. And the truth was, even with that trust, she was a little nervous. But now, more than ever, she wanted to please her Mistress, and if it pleased her Mistress to flog her, she would take the abuse for her pleasure.
Amy could tell by the soft shuffling of feet on the hard stone floor behind her that her Mistress was getting ready to strike. She was setting her stance. That was good. It meant the woman was going about this thoughtfully, not simply standing there and swinging her arm. A moment later she felt the sharp slap of leather against her back.
“Uhhgh,” she grunted, then bit her lip to avoid further noise. She was hoping to not make any sounds, but the heaviness of the strands as they struck her flesh forced her to react. She would be ready for what followed, though.
The next lash came in the same area. Prepared for the strike, Amy closed her eyes and let the pain wash over her. The bulk of the leather strands punished the middle of her back, while a few struck higher and lower than the others. These hurt a little more on their own, but nothing that the suspended woman couldn’t process.
Her eyes still closed, Amy soaked in the sensation of the strands as they struck her back. Gentle compared to what her former Master had administered, she noticed an increase in intensity with each passing stroke as if Deborah was gauging the force of her swings. A momentary cessation caused Amy to open her eyes, but she did not attempt to look back. She just stood, waiting, and controlling her breathing; in and out, slowly, steadily; in and out.
The wait was short, and she gasped as the leather struck her ass with considerable force. Dealing with this pain required a more disciplined response, and the young woman exhaled deeply. It was a good stroke, and hurt quite a bit. She was sure her Mistress was quite pleased with the sound of it, and the feel of the flogger as the strands landed solidly, and this thought gladdened her and excited her.
“Thank you, Mistress!” she cried out, grateful to be the living target for fulfilling her Mistress’ desires. Another hard stroke crossing the soft flesh of her naked rear end caused her to pull on the rope above to maintain her balance. Steadying herself again, the memories of floggings she had endured over the years flooded her mind and her body reacted accordingly.
Before the next stroke was delivered, Amy allowed her body to relax and hang from her wrists. This allowed her the extra slack she needed to force her well-toned ass outward towards her Mistress, her back arching in the process. She was offering her ass to the flogger, presenting a pleasing target for the wide leather strands to land.
This seemed to please Deborah quite a bit as the flogger struck her proffered ass from a multitude of directions in a quick succession of blows. Barely able to catch a breath, Amy shouted out her thanks both to please her Mistress and to let her know she was not in so much pain that she couldn’t think or speak. The heat from the flogging spread in all directions in waves and after a couple of minutes her ass felt as though it was on fire.
By the time the flogging stopped, Amy’s head hung between her arms. The pain from individual blows didn’t even register in her brain at this point, as she absorbed the overall sensations that were being forced upon her bound body. A hand on her ass made her jump, but then she pressed her rear out even further as Deborah caressed her hot flesh.
Unaccustomed to a woman’s touch, Amy noticed immediately the tenderness with which she was being caressed. Her former Master had not touched her in this manner for quite some time, and it was a sensation that she missed. That she was being handled in such a gentle manner now was not lost on her, and she was instantly aroused by the affection. When the fingers strayed down between her legs, she knew they would discover her arousal, too.
Gripping the rope overhead to lessen the pull on her wrist cuffs, Amy stood helplessly as her Mistress explored the wet flesh between her legs. A fingertip slid through the ring pierced through the flesh over her clit and pulled gently, as others entered her slit, sliding easily into her.
The sound of the flogger falling to the floor preceded the touch of Deborah’s other hand on Amy’s reddened ass. She melted in waves of pleasure as her Mistress explored her body however it pleased her. She could tell by the way in which she was being touched that her Mistress was enjoying herself.
To the young submissive, what her Mistress had done to her, and continued to do, had fulfilled so many of her own desires. She remembered that she was going to stop being surprised by Mrs. Harrington’s actions, but she couldn’t help but to be surprised once again!
To a rational person, being struck with a flogger would not seem to be something to be desired, but to Amy it was, when that flogger was wielded by her owner. It was something she still didn’t fully understand, but she felt the need to serve, to offer herself in every way for the pleasure of the person who controlled her, and took care of her. She found a great deal of freedom in being under the tightest of controls.
Amy knew that her basic desires lay in pleasing others. It was a selfless desire, and in achieving her goals, she fulfilled her own needs. If it pleased her Mistress to offer her pleasure as well, that was a bonus!
Now, however, those sensual hands had left her body and she heard the flogger being picked up off of the floor. There was a faint sound of movement behind her, and then she felt the ends of the leather strands brush against the bottom of her ass, as though the flogger was being used in an upward movement. This could mean only one thing, and she forced her ass outward and braced herself for the worst kind of pain.
Sure enough, the next stroke landed smartly between her legs, slapping against the wet bare flesh of her exposed pussy. Easily processed, Amy controlled her breathing, and her fear. Her Mistress had proven to be a careful amateur, and had not hurt her yet. Still, it wouldn’t take much to cause a great deal of pain in this area. With the spreader bar secured between her ankles, she was helpless to prevent the abuse, however hard it turned out to be.
Another stroke landed, harder than the others. Amy remembered how her Mistress had strengthened each lash to her ass, and reasoned that she would apply the same method again. Knowing this, she remained as quiet as she could, uttering only slight grunts and sounds when she was unable to stop herself.
As predicted, the flogger continued to swing upward, striking her pussy with increasing severity. When the pain reached a certain level, she began to regulate her breathing to help focus her mind on the respirations instead of the pain. This worked for some time, until she had to speak out.
“Thank you, Mistress! Another, please!”
Deep inhale, and exhale. “Thank you, Mistress! Another, please!”
But no others followed.
Deborah moved around in front of her slave and held her around the waist. Standing close, she put her head next to Amy’s and whispered, “I’m so happy, Amy,” and kissed the young woman on the side of her face. Her hands caressed her slave’s nakedness, feeling the moistness of her perspiration as it dripped down her back and sides. “Are you happy?”
In the four years she had been a “slave”, no one had ever asked her this question. There had been times when she would have immediately answered ‘yes’, but many times she would not have been so sure of the answer. But now, with her Mistress’ arms surrounding her, holding her, she felt something as close to real joy as she had ever known.
“Yes, Mistress, I’m very happy.”
Sitting now, in the back corner of the room, Amy turned away from Miss Catherine as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Barely able to contain the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to overtake her, the distraught former slave began to concentrate on her breathing. A technique that had served her well during painful sessions at the receiving end of a flogger, cane, or spanking paddle, she hoped it would serve her now to control her emotions. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself in this room full of Harrington’s, or to embarrass Miss Catherine sitting next to her.
While helping to quell the fear that she would break down sobbing, it did nothing to stop the flood of memories; memories of nearly thirty wonderful years as Deborah Harrington’s personal slave. She had been her whore, her slut, her toy, her lover, and her best friend. She had been anything her Mistress wished her to be. And her Mistress had been everything she had ever hoped for in an owner.
Amy hadn’t set out on this journey with the notion that she wanted to be owned; it had just been a game at first. But as she lived the game, it became no game at all. It became a reality that she felt so comfortable with that she never wanted it to end.
But now, the emptiness that consumed her told her it had ended. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t felt Miss Catherine’s hand on her shoulder, touching her gently. But she did feel it when that hand traversed lovingly across her upper back.
Turning slightly to glance up at her Miss, she saw the pretty brunette looking at her with such sympathy in her eyes.
“It’s almost over, Amy,” Catherine said in a hushed voice. “I’m sure this has been very hard for you to sit through, hearing all of your Mistress’ possessions being parceled out like this.” Her hand continued to rub Amy’s shoulders, and the offered comfort was very welcome.
“Thank you for sitting with me, Miss. I’m…I’m not sure I could’ve made it otherwise.”
Amy saw several people stand up and shake hands. Mitchell’s family passed by on their way out of the room, while the young executive stayed behind to talk with Mr. Lancester. More family members filed out; excited with the inheritances they had just received.
Sneaking a peek over Catherine’s shoulder, Amy’s mood brightened slightly. “Is it over, Miss?” she asked, hopefully. She was glad that her Mistress had not given her anything; because she had never asked anything of her in all of the time she had served her. And yet, she had always had everything she needed, or ever wanted.
Catherine shook her head, “No, but soon.” The young woman stood and took Amy’s hand, guiding the older woman to her feet. “Come, we’ll sit up front now.”
Amy stood in place, resisting the pull on her hand. “Up front, Miss?” She shook her head, not wanting to leave the safety of her little corner.
“Yes, come,” Catherine said more sternly, dropping Amy’s hand, and walking towards the large ornate desk that the attorney stood behind.
Amy knew that tone of voice, and followed closely behind the shapely young woman as she made her way between the empty chairs.
“I insist we be able to stay to hear what she’s kept until the last to give away!” Buster was saying to Mr. Lancester.
“There’s a lot of money not accounted for,” Prudence joined in. Turning to see Amy approaching, she added, “I’m not sitting idly by while she gives away her fortune to just anybody.” The nasty tone told Amy exactly who ‘anybody’ was.
“Mrs. Harrington’s special dispositions go solely to the Porter side of the family, ma’am,” the attorney said with a slight smirk. “And quite frankly, I’ll be glad when I’m done here and off the property.”
Buster stood up straight, his large frame towering over the old man. “What the fuck…”
“Charles Harrington left everything in his wife’s care because he couldn’t trust his own family to continue to build his empire. I’d say he was a very astute judge of character.” The attorney paused for a moment to let his words sink in.
“Deborah, while someone you find to be a loathsome gold-digger, has returned each part of the corporation to Harrington control in a much healthier state than she received them, and given them to the persons most likely to succeed with each. That hadn’t been clear at the time of Mr. Harrington’s death, and he was still deciding how to write his final Will. In the meanwhile he had entrusted everything to his wife.”
The man sat down and looked up at Buster and Prudence. “What remains to be distributed is Deborah’s personal wealth. She has stipulated that Mitchell should remain to represent your families, and I’d like to get started, so if you would please…” he motioned towards the door.
Indignantly, the two Harrington’s left the room, and Mr. Lancester directed everyone to take their seats. Taking a breath he began, “The following are Mrs. Harrington’s special dispositions.”
He went on to award several million dollars to each of the Porter sisters, and dispensed a couple of vacation homes and cottages in the U.S. and abroad. To Catherine she gave eight million dollars, the largest amount to be awarded thus far to any one person. Amy squeezed her arm in delight, knowing her Miss would be quite wealthy now! She was very happy for her!
Apparently finished with his papers, Mr. Lancester laid them down on the desk and looked up at Amy.
“As for you, Miss Jackson, may I say that there was nothing Mrs. Harrington treasured more than you,” the elderly man swallowed hard, emotions straining his words. “She often told me that if she were to lose everything except for you, she would still be a happy woman.”
Amy could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but she dared not to look up for fear of breaking down in tears.
“In preparing for her inevitable death, your Mistress struggled with how to dispense with you.”
Now it was Amy who swallowed hard. Dispense with me? She wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Giving you money and sending you out on your own was never an option. She loved you too much to do anything so cold.” The man looked around at the faces of those persons most dear to his departed friend. “She wanted to make sure you were always taken care of, and would live out your life in the servitude of someone who loved you as she did.”
Amy’s heart raced at the words she was hearing.
Mr. Lancester fingered the papers in front of him until he found the one he sought. Pulling it out and laying it on top of the stack, he looked up at Amy again.
“Amy, are you the property of Deborah Harrington?”
Once, a long time ago, she had grappled with that same question in regards to her Master. Had he owned her? She felt that he did. Did her Mistress own her? One hundred percent, yes. There was no doubt in her mind what so ever that she belonged to Deborah Harrington.
“Yes, Sir, I am,” Amy quickly stated.
“It is your Mistress’ wish that you, her most valuable possession, be given to her niece, Catherine Porter, to do with as she pleases.”
Catherine reached over and took Amy’s hand and squeezed it. Amy looked over, astonished, to see Catherine whipping tears off of her cheek with her other hand, and also saw a big, beautiful, smile on her new Mistress’ face.
“Do you accept this inheritance, Miss Porter?” the man asked as he pushed the paper across the desktop towards Catherine, while trying his hardest to suppress a grin and remain professional.
The young woman picked up the paper and scanned the print. It was a title of ownership, much like a vehicle title. She smiled and looked up at the elderly gentleman. This had obviously been photo-shopped and made to look official, but that was her aunt’s signature at the bottom, and in the other corner was Mr. Lancester’s signature, with a Notary seal next to it.
“I do,” Catherine said, turning to look at the woman next to her. “I do accept it.”
Mr. Lancester stood up, and said, “Very well then. With that, the reading of the Will of Deborah Anne Porter Harrington is complete.”
Amy fell into her Mistress’ arms and wept. Catherine gave her a moment and then pushed her away a little bit.
“Let’s go, my precious slave. I’m sure there’s a collar for you in the dungeon we can borrow.”
“There’s lots of them, Mistress,” Amy gushed as she fell in step behind her new owner.
“And then we’ll go down to our new home, and maybe drag that old cart out of the barn. Would you like that, slave?”
Amy’s pulse quickened. The cart?!! “Yes, Miss! I would like that very much!”
The tears from the loss of Mistress Deborah now mixed with her tears of joy. And even though she had sworn long ago not to be surprised by anything Deborah Harrington did or said, once again, Mistress Deborah had surprised her.
What had started as the gloomiest day of her life had unexpectedly become the happiest.
Copyright© 2014 by mrhungry. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org