Anthea Parfitt Part Three

Archive name: Anthea Parfitt Part Three.HTM (F/FF, FD hum)

Authors name: SmotherFan ([email protected])

Story title: Anthea Parfitt Part Three

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There comes a time when each day fades into the next. When you have nothing to look forwards to; then what day it is, what time is it becomes unimportant. I passed into that state when Helen handed me over to Abigail. The fact that she was the sister of my conqueror, the girl who had first broken my will, was not lost on either of us.

Abigail had something to prove. I didn’t realise just how much during the hand over ceremony. It was an almost simple event. Abigail and Helen shared me in one drunken evening at the end of which I slept at the bottom of Abigail’s bed.

I was genuinely glad to see the back of Helen. The longer she had been my mistress then the cruller she had become. It had only been a matter of time before she’d really hurt me. Helen saw it as her right to suffocate me. She was careless in how much I suffered and my greatest fear was that one time she would misjudge my punishment.

I just had the problem of Abigail, only she wasn’t really a problem, I wasn’t allowed problems. A slave had no problems. Abigail had one. She wanted to make her year a memorable one. I was a minor part of that, but still she wanted to use me in someway that none of my previous mistress’s had.

I still taught, now only the younger girls. I couldn’t handle the senior classes, as my position was now well known within the senior year. My slavery might once have been a secret but not any more.

Abigail was also the most brazen of my mistresses, within a month of taking procession of me; she had sold my services to half of her year. She literally auctioned me every time it was her period. I had to suffer the humiliation of standing in the classroom whilst Abigail carried out her sale.

Still the year passed, somewhere my twenty-seventh birthday also passed. I didn’t celebrate it. I can’t remember what I was doing, save that it would have involved serving my Mistress in some way.

Finally the year reached the end of term, the end of Abigail’s ownership of my body. Abigail celebrated by an almost organistic party at which I was the chief toy, and yet no particular mistress initiated me. I was left battered and bemused.

Abigail followed her morning ritual. I had already sniffed her early morning farts and teased her to a gentle orgasm. Now I prepared her breakfast whilst she had a shit. Sometimes I had to wipe her arse, it depended on her mood. Today she was ebullient, overflowing with something akin to ecstasy. I couldn’t say anything; the mistress to slave code meant I could only speak when spoken to.

I stood obediently by whilst Abigail finished her breakfast coffee. One of the privileges of being the Head Girl was to right to have her breakfast in her own room. Abigail used this privilege to the full; it allowed her an early chance to abuse me.

“Read this!” Abigail pushed a folded piece of paper towards me. Deferentially I collected the paper and read it. “Know what it is?” Abigail grinned. She was really enjoying herself.

“An address Mistress!” I was puzzled.

“You have to be there by eleven thirty this morning.” She finished her coffee and stood up. “You will ask for a Mrs. Addison Reynolds.”

“I don’t understand.” I spluttered. It was the nearest I’d come to challenging her.

“You have to be at this address by eleven thirty this morning. When you get there, you ask for Mrs. Addison Reynolds, now what is there to understand?” Abigail didn’t have a great deal of patience.

I hadn’t been off the grounds for over a year, my car had been sold on Helen’s instructions. I had no way of reaching the address, a plush hotel thirty miles away.

“What’s the problem now?” Abigail demanded to know.

“How do I get there?” I stammered.

“For someone with a degree you are FUCKIN STUPID!” Abigail exploded into my face. Immediately I stepped away; but not before Abigail had delivered a stinging slap to my face. I fell to my knees; head down, awaiting her next move.

“There is a bus from the village, be on it!” She dismissed me with a petulant tug at my hair. “Don’t miss it, I will be very very angry if you do.”

“Please mistress, I have no money.” I whispered. It was true. I didn’t need money; slaves didn’t need money. It was Helen who’d first taken my salary, then Abigail.

“Here!” Abigail tossed me a five-pound note. “Now get going!”

I ran to the village, arriving breathless. I only just made it and collapsed onto a seat as the bus pulled out.

The scenery sped by; absently I tried to take in the countryside. It was ordinary enough, but to someone starved of such views it was paradise.

I didn’t talk to the few passengers. I had forgotten had to make small talk. The school was a closed community and I was the most reclusive of all.

Pretty soon I had to change buses and the scenery changed to the ribbon type development of thirties Britain. I stared at detached house after detached house, and then suddenly I was disembarking near to the hotel.

I was hyperventilating by the time I reached reception, by the time I was heading for the Penthouse suite I was walking on eggshells, with nerveless fingers I knocked on the simple white door. After a few moments the door opened and a woman stood in the entrance.

“Mrs…” I’d forgotten her name. I fumbled for the sheet of paper my mistress had given me.

“You’ll be Anthea, follow me!” She turned on her heels. She was brisk and business like but her accent was strange, a mixture of English and something else.

I did as I was told. It had become easier than thinking, do what you were told, lick who ever you were told.

The woman, I still couldn’t remember her name, looked familiar. She led me into a magnificent room with a view overlooking the ocean.

“You are prettier than I expected.” The stranger said. She was older than me, not much, a year or so, her beauty was striking, from her manicured hair to her tight butt, the stranger was sexually

magnificent. “Do you know who I am?”

“No miss.” I managed to stop myself.

The stranger laughed. “Say it, go on, and say mistress, that was what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” As she spoke she was circling me, suddenly she grabbed my arse. I twitched in resistance, but four years of utter subjugation to other women, made my resistance weak. “Keep your hands together.” She ordered as she unzipped my skirt.

Soon I was naked. I had made no attempt to stop her nor did I make no attempt to shield myself. I just stood there, stark naked and utterly helpless. She wasn’t my mistress but she might have well as been.

She continued to circle me. “You’re skinny! Abigail hasn’t been feeding you properly!” Each time she touched me I flinched.

At the mention of my mistresses name my head shot up. What had Abigail got to do with this? Why had she sent me here, to meet this dominating older woman?

“Still don’t get it, do you?” I didn’t answer. This had nothing to do with me talking back. “Remember Miranda? Remember that first time you licked her pussy? Of course you do, now tell me, who am I?”

I fumbled for the paper Abigail had given me. “Mrs Addison Reynolds.” I replied as clearly as I could.

“Mrs Addison Reynolds, and what do Miranda and Abigail Wylie have in common with me? COME ON! THINK!” She was in my face. I could smell her perfume; it was strong and expensive.

I was flustered. I just looked blankly at her, unable to think. She shook her head in frustration.

“Follow me.”

The bedroom was opulent. The bed itself was king-size. She gestured to me. “Get on the bed!” She said flatly.

I did so. I was numb of feelings, bemused, confused and yet still utterly complaint to any woman who knew what button to press. Miranda had started this and finally Abigail had completed my education, now this unknown woman .. the truth hit me as hard as any slap I’d received in the past four years. “You’re related!” I blurted out.

The woman smiled. “AT last!” She climbed onto the bed, pushing me down. As casually as any of my mistresses before her, the woman straddled me, sitting on my chest, pinning my arms beneath her knees. “Now, how are we related?”

I did some quick maths, Abigail was eighteen, Miranda now would be twenty-two or three, this woman was perhaps thirty, a cousin, aunt or, or an elder sister. I stared again. She looked like them. Yes, she had to be an elder sister.

“You’re sisters!” I whispered.

“Correct. Miranda and Abigail are my kid sisters.” She smirked at me. “They have told me so much about you, how obedient you are, how good your tongue has become. Everything, from the very first day.” She slid forwards until her crotch was resting on my chin.

Addison was wearing a pair of ultra tight ski pants; the sheer material framed my view of her. “I wanted to meet you, and here we are, with your nose in my crotch, why don’t you have a big sniff.”

I did so. After four years I’d smelt every type of pussy, from the scented to the stale, the worse had almost made me gag. Addison’s didn’t, it was strong, almost pungent, and she was aroused.

I knew what was going to happen, soon I’d be buried under her arse, my tongue inside her cunt, and I’d stay there until she decided otherwise.

“You won’t run away whilst I undress? Will you?”

“No Mistress.” I whispered.

“I thought not, but just in case.” She climbed off me. I was grateful for that. Addison was heavier than either of her sisters, only three or four kilo’s, but it was enough for me to notice the difference.

From the bedside cabinet Addison produced a pair of handcuffs. “Better to be safe than sorry.” She didn’t need to do this and I think she knew it, but all the same Addison clipped my ankles together. I couldn’t have walked, let alone run. She was making a simple statement, which she could do anything she wished to me.

Addison undressed slowly. She had a fine figure, toned, almost muscular, but very feminine. I realised that I was looking at a woman’s naked figure and not the still developing figures of her sisters. Addison was in her prime, both physically and sexually.

I found the sight of her naked body arousing, the long forgotten tingle in my nipples, the slow moistening between my thighs.

Addison must have seen the reaction her nudity had brought on. “Hands above your head.” She ordered. I did as I was told. She pulled another set of handcuffs from the bedside cabinet; with them Addison handcuffed my wrists together and then used a belt to tie me to the bed.

“Now, lets get to understand a few things.” Addison came and straddled my hips, sitting down on my belly button. I could feel the spiky stubble of her pubic hair and the dampness that nestled between.

She brushed a long, sharp fingernail across my nipples, hard enough to hurt me and at the same time induce sensations of pleasure. Unbidden by me; my nipples rose, hard, rubbery stubs of flesh.

“Does having your face fucked turn you on?” She asked.

“No Mistress.” I replied.

“These!” She flicked each nipple in turn, the hard enamel of her fingernails stung. “These!” She did it again. I whimpered. “Tell me otherwise. I won’t be lied to. I can be a kind mistress or a cruel one. You chose which you’d prefer to serve. Now tell me and quickly.”

“Please mistress. I think you are very attractive.” I stammered and found myself blushing furiously. It was tantamount to an admission of lesbianism.

Addison laughed. She laughed until her eyes watered, great sobs seemed to wrack her body. She even had to lean against me until she regained control.

“You fancy me?” Addison said and started laughing again.

“No mistress.” I pleaded in between her laughter. “I think you are attractive, but I couldn’t fancy you.”

Suddenly Addison was sober. “I think you are lying.”

“No mistress.” I protested.

“Yes and you need to be punished.”

I didn’t argue further. It would be no use and anyway I was already accepting my punishment, what ever that would be.

Addison wriggled up my body until her bare arse filled my view and then she sat down full weight on me. I felt her damp, clammy cunt as it spread across my face. She didn’t move and slowly I started to panic. Addison wasn’t going to move, she wasn’t going to allow me to breath. I tried to struggle but bound and now suffocated I had no chance. Finally I gave up the uneven struggle. I could feel my senses leave me and at last the darkness came.

When I recovered I was still bound and naked on Addison’s bed. She was nowhere to be seen. Experimentally I tried my bonds but they were still secure.

“Awake?”

Addison’s voice snapped into my senses. She was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, now dressed again in those clinging ski pants and a tight white top.

“Yes mistress.”

“You annoyed me.” Addison said.

“I’m sorry mistress.” I blurted out.

“We’ll see.” Addison began once more to strip. All the time she kept her eyes locked on me. I prayed that my tits wouldn’t react to the sight of her naked. This time I won; it was a pitiful victory, but a victory.

“Better.” She finished undressing. She was magnificent, but I tried to remember that she was also a ruthless exploiter, someone who would think nothing of punishing me, hurting me, what ever she pleased.

Addison climbed onto my face; her pussy hovered above me. I stared up at her glistening lips, the sharp scrub of pubic hair. She was aroused, ready for my tongue. She just had to signal the start. Slowly she lowered herself until my nose brushed against her skin. The smell was almost over powering. Finally she was resting across my face. “Make me come.” I heard her order.

I did so. I was slavish in my dedication, desperate to please her, this mystery woman who claimed that she was my new mistress. All the questions as to how this could be were unimportant. I just had to make her climax, give her the best possible sex that I could.

I discovered that pleasing Addison was different to pleasing my teenage mistresses. Addison was a sexually mature and experienced woman. She responded to the little tricks I’d learnt on Miranda or Tabatha or Helen or Abigail but none made her climax. She had to be coaxed, flattered, almost persuaded to her climax, but finally I succeeded.

Addison came, a shuddering, gushing climax, which almost drowned me in her juices. She sank down on to my face, smearing me with the remnants of her climax. She forgot I was there. I was an object, just something that she processed, just like a piece of furniture.

Eventually she moved enough for me to breath, gratefully I drew in a lungful of almost fresh air and then Addison returned to her position.

“Very good!” She breathed eventually. “I should compliment my sisters, you have been trained well.”

I was still trapped beneath her. Slowly Addison levered herself off me and I gasped for air, then Addison twisted round, presenting her arse to me. “Lick my butt.” She commanded and I did so.

Finally Addison was satisfied and she left me still bound to her bed whilst she showered. When she returned, submerged in an oversized white wrap around she finally released me.

“Get dressed.” She ordered. “Use the bathroom if you need to.”

Gratefully I scurried to the bathroom. I need to pee and wash her gloo from my face, then I dressed, conscious of how shabby my clothes had become.

Addison had ordered food to be brought to the suite and we sat and ate on the balcony, the late afternoon sun was still warm on our faces.

It seemed un-natural to be sitting with my Mistress and sharing a meal.

“I have two daughters, Bethany is seven and Melody is four.” Addison began. I didn’t say anything. I was famished and the food; even the sandwiches, were fabulous. She had been right; Abigail had been starving me. “When they are twelve I will send them to the school, until then they need a teacher.” She had been looking out to sea but now she looked directly at me. “I am told you are a very good teacher.”

I didn’t know what to say. I even blushed a little before whispering something about how I enjoyed teaching.

“Good.” Addison sipped her wine. I had water. I hadn’t drunk alcohol for years. Slaves didn’t qualify for such luxuries. “I live in California.” Addison continued. “I’m returning there in three days, you’ll be coming with me.”

I just stared at her.

“What’s wrong? Addison asked.

I simply shook my head. It wasn’t how a slave should answer her Mistress, but I was to stunned to answer correctly.

“Well?” Addison asked sharply, reasserting her dominance over me. “I asked you a question, answer me!”

“I don’t know what to say!” I stammered. “I don’t even know if I have a passport! Why me?” I finally managed to stutter.

“You’re a good teacher, a good pussy licker and besides, do you want to spend the rest of your life having some seventeen year old kid rubbing her ass over your face?”

“No!” I whispered.

“Mistress!” Addison insisted.

“Yes Mistress, I mean no Mistress.” I stumbled over the words.

Addison laughed. “You know, for someone so good with their tongue, you can’t string two words together.”

I smiled and accepted her insults.

“Then it’s settled. You can stop here until we fly.”

“The school?” I whispered.

“All taken care of, as is your passport, work permit, everything. In less than seventy-two hours you’ll be in California. I have a lovely estate overlooking the ocean. You’ll love it there.” Addison sipped at her wine. “You will teach my daughters and pleasure me. It’s a simple enough task.” Addison lifted her right leg and rested the foot on the rail of the balcony. “Now come here and start to earn your keep.” Addison swept the wrap around open and I dropped to my knees and crawled between her legs. Addison grabbed my hair and pulled my face into her cunt.

Epilogue

I have been Addison’s slave for five years now. She has been true to her word and has been a kind mistress and I am grateful for that. She says that when the girls have gone onto the school then I can leave, but that frightens me. I haven’t really lived in the real world for ten years now. I don’t know how I’ll cope, or if I even want to.

Perhaps Addison will let me stay. I hope so.