The Tables Turn

by Sydney Michelle
© Omphale Press, 2002

 

PROLOGUE

 

Phoebe engaged Ysabella to clear her somewhat mousy husband, Peter, out of the way so the way for her to take his place for a substantial inheritance. With the aid of an assortment of DNA conversion pills smuggled out from Hong Kong, Ysabella first seduced him, then administered a series of pills in the guise of vitamins to change his body.

After securing the estate, Phoebe took great delight in watching the final dose take effect, a dose which gave Priscilla her feminine internal organs and made the other changes permanent. She especially loved teasing the possibility of giving Peter an antidote if he were sufficiently pleasing sexually, even though she had no intention of doing so.

After Peter permanently became Priscilla, Phoebe had to dispose of the evidence. Phoebe had made plans to sell her ex, along with a young female hitchhiker, as a bi-sexual, lesbian couple through Slaves’4'U. To ensure willing compliance, Phoebe gave the pair pills to alter their libido and personalities, making them submissive, craving bondage, and with heightened sex drives for men and women. Priscilla’s companion, Paula, also got a dose that made her the dominate partner.

As a token of appreciation for a job well done, Phoebe sent Ysabella a little collection of souvenirs from Priscilla, a lock of hair, her pubic hair, her opera length gloves, her D-cup bra, and her panties. Her last little note of triumph proved her undoing.

 

CHAPTER 1

 

The first blush of the turning leaves was just kissing the oaks lining the drive as the limousine turned in at the gate. The woman with her brown hair piled in curls over an upwards French Braid bent forward to use the speaker. "Stop on the far side of the front steps, Herman. We’ll need you to get the pram from the boot." The driver nodded. She turned to her golden brown companion. "Nervous, Sweetheart?"

She nodded. "Thirty months isn’t enough to forget this house. I just know Phoebe will do something evil, Bel. And I don’t want to lose you again."

"That’s why we have George. She’s not going to meekly roll over, even with the twins and the goods on her. George is our equalizer. Just don’t eat or drink anything from her or Alice is in Wonderland again. With Phoebe as the Queen of Hearts. Do you have everything you need, George?"

The large, solid, lean hipped brunette nodded. "I am the pro, Miz Patrick. Just leave the muscle to me."

"Of course. At your discretion."

The limo rolled to a gentle stop. Herman held opened the passenger as the three emerged. He opened the trunk lid, and unfolded the double stroller. When he rolled it to the door, Priscilla reached inside and brought out two bundled up babies, depositing one in each side. She knelt to strap them in, cooing all the while. "How is Mommy’s precious? Don’t be frightened. Mommy’s with you. Mommy will feed you in a little while."

"Alright. Herman, if you will help carry the stroller up the steps? And have the car running at that end in case we have to beat a hasty retreat."

Ysabella rang the bell, a deep Winchester quarter chime resounding through the house, as George surveyed the front. She put gloved hands around Priscilla’s shoulder as she waited, kissing her ear. "Everything will work out. You’ll see. Just leave it to your lady."

Priscilla smiled at her, shaky but trying to be brave.

The massive door opened, held in the crimson tipped fingers of a flaxen blonde woman in a black cutaway, full ankle length skirt and wrist bangles. "Yes?"

"We’re here to see Ms Roget."

"I was not aware she was expecting visitors. Who shall I say is calling?"

"Ysabella Patrick. And family."

"If you will step into the parlor, I will let Ms Roget know of your arrival."

The blonde’s chignoned nape lead them across the marble foyer into a spacious sitting room, furnished with two divans and sitting chairs. Dried fall arrangements filled two large garnet vases on a side table. Ysabella settled into a chair facing the door, removing her gloves, while George inspected the furniture. Priscilla settled on a divan and lifted the children from their carriage onto her gray skirted thigh. They were quickly playing "Ride a Cocked Horse" rubbing noses.

"I see she hasn’t bothered to redecorate. What now, George?"

He shook his head slightly, looking up at the painted ceiling. "Bugs, even in a place like this. With eyes, yet."

"Pity. Well, we wait."

A clock ticked off time on the mantle. After ten minutes, the door opened. "Ms Roget."

"Ysabella! Darling! Partner! And who is this gorgeous husband of yours?" She stopped dead when she spotted Priscilla. "You! What are . . ."

"I fear you’re under some misapprehension, Phoebe. Mr. Stonearm is not my husband. Priscilla is my wife. And those are our daughters on her knees, Phoebe and Paula. Phoebe is the stunning little blonde. Paula is the too precious little Eurasian. Shall we retire to the library to catch up on old times? It’s this way, if I remember correctly."

Phoebe settled in behind the desk, Ysabella and Priscilla in chairs before it, Priscilla rocking the twins in their stroller. George Stonearm settled into a Windsor chair behind the library table where he could watch both Phoebe and the door. "Wouldn’t your, ehr . . ."

"Companion. I’m fine here. This way I won’t be in the way while you ladies catch up."

"Could I get my major domo, Josephina, to bring you something? You must be thirsty after your ride. I wish you had let me know you were coming. I could have received you properly."

"No thank you. The limo has refreshments in back. Under the circumstances, I thought just coming would be best."

"But I might have been gone. You won’t mind if I have something?"

"No, please. The social schedule of a wealthy woman like yourself is well publicized. You just returned from sixty days in Asia. You are to be ‘at home’ until Thanksgiving, except for your monthly board meeting in London. I did not think we would miss you."

"I must say, Ysabella, you are full of surprises. You are, uh, married? To Priscilla? What a curious turn of events."

Priscilla shivered.

"Is something wrong, Sweetheart?"

"It’s just that this is where, where, you know. I transformed."

Ysabella squeezed Priscilla’s hand. "Is it? And I’m so grateful. Try not to think of it for a few minutes." Ysabella turned to Phoebe. "Perhaps it is curious. Her trophy mount and sales tape you were so gracious to send kept her in my mind. After six months of looking at her, in absentia so to speak, I realized I wanted her in my life. Permanently. So I found a very discrete detective to track her down. The sales tape provided a convenient starting point."

The blonde appeared in the door "You buzzed, Madam?"

"Yes, Josephina. Bring a pot of tea. One cup. The Vanilla Assam, I think."

"Very good, Madam." Josephina shut the door behind her.

"But Slaves’4'U buyer and seller records are kept offshore."

"But the site runs from here. Clerks and techs will always sell information for relatively little when it’s handled properly. It took sixty days for the trail to reveal itself, another sixty days to track her through two more owners to find where she was. But at the end of the trail, I was able to negotiate the repurchase of my darling Priscilla. Her last owner became more reasonable the closer her due date became. There is an interesting niche of men turned on by pregnant women, but he really didn’t want the mess and expense of caring for babies. Especially twins."

"But married?"

"A quick trip to Vermont. Such a romantic place, moonlight, icy fingerwaves. I didn’t want our babies born as bastards. And I wanted Priscilla to know that she at last is genuinely loved before she underwent labor."

"A pair, I see. How old? She is fertile, isn’t she? Besides being a curvaceous, soft slut."

"I would appreciate it that you not refer to my wife that way. She is loving and a pleasure to bed, but her favors are strictly mine. A welcome, although unanticipated side effect of nursing is the almost total neutralization of the MSD and FSD pills."

"So how much longer before these two are weaned?"

"Another seven months. They’ll be two then."

"Your tea, Madam." Josephina sat down a tray with a full cup and a pot for refills, then cast an appalled glance at the twins before leaving.

"And then back to hyper-drive, eh. For, let’s see, another eighteen months." Phoebe shook her head. "You will certainly have your hands full, Ysabella. Or are you planning on setting up a nice little business in Nevada? Perhaps you’ll track down Paula as well."

Ysabella sighed. "I guessed it would be hard for you to understand. Miz and Mrs. Patrick are going to live as normal and private a life as possible. Paula was rather too much into S&M for my taste. She lost interest in Priscilla when she really began swelling between five and six months. Priscilla had a hard two months still pining for her until her delivery. No Paula does not fit into our plans. But more children do. Priscilla is carrying our daughter. She will deliver just before weaning, so her sex drive will be as close to normal as possible til the pills wear off."

Priscilla squeezed Bel’s hand. "The girls are getting hungry. I should take them to nurse."

"Of course, Sweetheart. Could she have some privacy?"

"Certainly. The room next door will do nicely." Phoebe buzzed and Josephina appeared almost immediately. "Josephina, will you show Mrs. Patrick and her charges into the next room? And provide her two towels and wash cloths so she can clean and nurse them."

"Of course, Madam. This way, if you please."

When they shut the door behind them, Ysabella looked at Phoebe. "Being wealthy and having this size of an estate requires quite some staff. I imagine. I don’t remember Josephina on Wade’s staff."

Phoebe sipped her tea, looking under her lashes at Ysabella. "She wasn’t. But you had so much fun with Priscilla, I just had to try it. I found her in Scotland on an inspection tour for the buyout. She was an orphan and very eager for affection underneath a proper exterior. Thirty days of pills had her ready for an immigration permit as Josephina. I enjoyed another sixty days of playing with her before I gave her the UF-CRVA. And sixty days later the UF-INT. Her screams of agony weren’t quite as delicious as Priscilla’s, but then I didn’t have as much history with her. She’s been serving me fully female now, let’s see, almost eighteen months. I must have transformed her about the time you bought out Priscilla."

"Between that and her delivery. You have been the busy little bee, haven’t you? Any others?"

"Just her. It’s cheaper to acquire females. And the same goes for slave sales. What with costs of really good ad vids, commissions, and buying discretion, it really hasn’t been worth the additional expense of the drugs. There are so many runaways and throwaways who never will be missed.

"How many more are you planning to have? And where will you get the necessary sperm? From Mr. Stonearm? He looks suitable. Or are you going to try prick roulette again? Are you sure I can’t give you some of this tea? It’s quite delicious. I can have Josephina bring more cups."

"I don’t believe that would be wise. At least two more. Little Ysabella and Priscilla at least. Perhaps more. Fortunately I took Price for a sperm bank deposit before giving him the UF-CRVA. So now we make withdrawals. My egg, her sperm, our child in her womb."

"Interesting. She does seem to be the diligent little mother."

"Her true destiny was not as you thought, being a sex slave, but being a loving wife and mother. We are very happy together, and I foresee us continuing to have as happy and private a life as five hundred million dollars will permit."

Phoebe sputtered, her tea splattering into the saucer. She wiped her nose and mouth before continuing. "Five hundred million? And how did you come by that amount? I paid you two million, and you’ve obviously run through a chunk of that."

"Quite simply we want half of Wade Wilkins’s estate. Priscilla and I aren’t greedy. Although an inheritance isn’t subject to community property, you could have had the other half if you had simply moved to a community property state and stayed married long enough. Rather than a nasty court fight with DNA testimony as to how Priscilla was born male, and documentary testimony establishing she reached twenty-five in that state, it is simply fairer and easier to split the baby. You will keep this estate. We’ll take our half in the current market value of marketable investments."

"You march in here and think I will simply hand you over five hundred million dollars?"

"I wouldn’t touch that buzzer again, Ms Roget. If you’ll step away from the desk."

"You think old broad shoulders here is going to scare it out of me? I’m moving, I’m moving." Phoebe stepped on the alarm as she stepped form behind the desk.

"No, I brought copies of some of our proof. There’s so much paperwork these days, your identity never quite completely disappears. A couple of very interesting articles about DNA analysis regarding identifying gender for the Olympics. And lab tests showing sufficient DNA match between Priscilla and the sperm samples to prove identity. And of course I’ll have to testify as to my part in the whole sordid affair. But we’ll win in court. Everything. And tie everything up in the meantime."

The door burst open. Two security guards in black burst in, guns at high port. "Kidnappers! Kill them!"

The laser on George’s silenced sidearm found a forehead, the phf-ft sounding the first time as she finished the word "Kidnappers." The second deadly shot followed close behind, just before the second guard’s weapon came on line. George strode over, weapon trained on the bodies, toeing the oozing heads.

"Clean kills, Miz Patrick. No exits. What should I do with her?" He ticked his head toward the ashen Phoebe, shrunken and shaking in the corner.

"Unfortunately we need her. That was very stupid, Phoebe. Not unexpected but still stupid. George here is a veteran of the military’s finest hostage rescue squads. He is, as you witnessed, positively lethal. I believe he knows forty-two ways to kill you bare handed, isn’t that right, George?"

"Fifty-two. What will we do with these?"

"We’ll need a little help. We have a perfectly good self-defense claim of course, but Priscilla doesn’t need a long period of upset, being pregnant and nursing. If you’ll keep her covered, I’ll risk buzzing for Josephina."

"If you’ll just sit there quietly, Miz Roget, I think that would be best for now." Phoebe had collapsed in the corner. She looked again at the bodies of her guards, bent over and heaved. "Typical reaction to seeing the first kill. She won’t be any trouble for at least twenty minutes."

The ice blonde stood in the doorway. Her eyes took in the scene: Ysabella behind the desk, Phoebe collapsed in the corner, George standing with drawn weapon above the two bodies. "You rang, Madam?"

"Miss Roget explained your situation, Josephina. She is not exactly in charge here at the moment. Can you, will you, help us with this mess?"

"As you wish, Madam. Something to contain the blood, I think. And then if your driver and guard can help me, there are two holes in the garden awaiting some red cedar transplants."

"Herman, my driver is fine. But Mr. Stonearm needs to remain here with me."

Josephina thought a few moments. "Sidney the gardener can be trusted. These two shot up the previous trees. He was quite upset. He said their highest and best use was fertilizer. But I don’t believe he imagined that would come true so soon."

"Thank you, Josephina. Would you please tend to it?"

 

CHAPTER 2

 

Josephina left, closing the door behind her. "You really should have been nicer to the people on the way up, Phoebe. They might have helped you on the way down. Now this little stunt is going to cost you dearly. You sold off Wade’s firm a little over a year ago. Now we want our half based on that increase of four hundred million dollars. Anything you’ve blown, you’ll eat. This estate will be part of the settlement. You’ll transfer the stock through the offshore bank on the main island where you have your Carribean getaway cay. No unnecessary taxes there. You’ll resign your seat on the board in favor of me. I’ll need your last financial statement to determine the transfers. Where is it?"

Phoebe looked up, pale and drawn. "You think I’ll do that? Until I do, you need me. After that, what kind of tree would you plant over me?"

"Phoebe, you really shouldn’t think everyone is like you. Priscilla would be very upset to find you a corpse. You’ll still have at least five hundred million. No slave staff, but even you should get by on that. Or there’s George. He knows even more ways to make you wish you were dead."

Phoebe shook her head. "You’ll kill me if I do."

"Miz Patrick, I have a suggestion. I probably shouldn’t, but I might."

Phoebe shrank back in terror.

"What is it, George?"

"I’ll wave my fee and take her to wife. Down there, her property is mine to manage as long as she remains my wife."

"I don’t know, George. She’s a conniving little bitch, even if she is a beauty. You might wind up with a tent stake through your temple."

"Don’t you have some of those pills you told me she forced on your wife?"

Ysabella nodded. "I brought them thinking they might help gain her cooperation."

"Well?"

"How about it, Phoebe? How about testing the new improved version of some of those drugs? And you’ll get a hunk for a husband in the bargain. I believe we’ll actually be doing you a favor."

Phoebe shook her head violently.

"I really don’t think you have any choice in the matter, no more than you gave Priscilla."

Josephina reappeared with Herman, carrying half a dozen towels and four sheets. "Sidney is deepening the holes. Shall we dispose of this mess?"

"Just leave the towels for a few minutes, Miss. Bring some rope. And what do you know about the tea?"

Josephina looked George up and down. "Her cup’s clean. The pot contains a strong sedative."

"Would you be willing to help your former mistress take some medicine?"

Josephina glanced at Phoebe. "Perhaps. With assurances. Come with me, Herman."

"If you will keep her covered, Miz Patrick. I don’t believe she will be any trouble, but just in case." He handed her the pistol, flicking the laser sight back on. "If she moves, just point and fire. Just keep the dot on h er in the meantime and you should get a hit. Meanwhile . . ."

George positioned a towel under each head, rolling the bodies on their bellies. A sharp edged throwing knife appeared from behind his neck. He pulled the chignons, testing firmness. "They’ll do," he muttered. He pulled the hair of the red head back so the head rested on her chin. A swift but almost precise swipe left a redline below the hair line from ear to the middle of the forehead. A twist of the head, and another connected to the first. He pulled the head forward. Three more swipes completed the circle. He glanced at Phoebe. She stared, fascinated, horrified. "A little trophy, liebchen, for you to remember this day. I understand you like trophies." His foot went between the shoulders. He grasped the bun firmly, and jerked. The scalp hung from his hand, a few drops dripping on the body. He held it up before her eyes. "This will dress out beautifully, hanging in our bedroom." It took not much more than a minute for the smooth, straightened black hair to join its fellow on a towel.

"Did I mention, Phoebe, your husband to be is almost full blooded Cherokee?"

"Comanche, Miz Patrick. With a few white and Mexican Indian female captives mixed in."

"So Phoebe, Darling, you are going to get to live out that captive rape fantasy so many women have. You know the one, forced to do what you really want to do anyway? By a man who epitomizes dominant brute strength but who really loves you? After all he asked for you. I would have settled for letting him make you wish you were dead."

"Now are you going to take your pills like a good girl, tell me where the statements are and sign over the property we name?"

Phoebe looked at the two scalps, looking like store wigs except for the ears. She shuddered, imagining herself on a rack, begging for mercy, begging to die. Suddenly she understood there really were fates worse than death, and not just spreading your legs. She nodded. "The lower left drawer," she whispered. Then she tried to throw up again, but nothing was left.

George bundled up the scalps, wrapping the heads in the remaining towels just as Josephina and Herman returned. The sheets became shrouds, wrapping and securing the bodies. "Herman, can you handle these out one at a time? Into the garden? We need Miss Josephina’s assistance."

"If I knew where to take ‘em."

"Why don’t I show him where and then return? Surely what we have to do won’t take long,"

"Alright, Josephina. Don’t be long." George helped Herman hoist the first corpse on his shoulder.

Ysabella had the computer on, running numbers on a spread sheet. "George, If you’d look at this as her guardian. I figure this estate, the holding corporation for the related personal property, the US autos, and three quarters of the merger shares for us. You’ll have control of the island, the rest of the merger shares, the other investments, and her cash. The portfolio was more diversified than I guessed."

George glanced at Phoebe. "We’ll get by. Of course raising a family can be expensive. But getting it should be fun."

"Just let me run up a deed and transfer authorization. We can transfer the auto titles tomorrow. When would you go to the island?"

"It might be a week. Some of those destinations only run once or twice a week."

"Let me get you a private jet. I bought a time share when I started searching for Priscilla. I still have part of the second year left."

"Then day after tomorrow if you can get it here by then."

"We’ll see. Twenty-four notice is possible. Forty-eight is guaranteed."

Josephina and Herman came back in. Herman had just left with the second body when Priscilla reappeared. "The girls are down for the count at last. Little Phoebe just sucks and sucks, like she can’t get enough. Did I hear a disturbance a little bit ago?"

"Just Phoebe deciding to cooperate, Sweetheart. You won’t give us any trouble about the transfers, will you Phoebe?"

Phoebe cast a glance at the towel sitting under the tier table. She shook her head.

"I thought not. And more good news, Sweetheart. George has decided to take her to wife and live down in the Caribbean. Their law gives him control of the family assets, so Phoebe won’t be changing her mind and challenging the settlement later. Of course a few pills will help her be happy as a wife and mother. I believe Josephina will help us with that."

"I presume I can be assured there is no chance of a fatality or her being crippled?"

"Oh no. I just traced down her supplier for the DNA and psychological pills like she gave you. A bit of turnabout as fair play, you know. I have just a few of the physicals, we should let Mr. Stonearm select what his wife to be takes of those. They are still working on an alternative for UF-INT so a women can get permanent enhancements. They think maybe three or four more years for that. So there will be a little ongoing maintenance."

"What are psychologicals?"

Priscilla glanced at Phoebe. "You must have given Josephina something, Phoebe. I can’t imagine you not playing around some just for the thrill of it. Didn’t you tell her?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I couldn’t give her much and have her still function as my major domo. Just some eighth doses in tea to heighten her urges but keep them under control."

"What did you give her?"

"SUB, BND, MSD. So she comes to my bed eagerly and does what I want without complaint. And a sixteenth of DOM to enjoy ruling the servants."

"I can see where you would have had a problem. It’s easy to see where too much SUB in your factotum would prove counter-productive, doing what anyone tells her. And too much DOM and she would want you squirming under her."

"Pardon me, Mrs. Patrick, but what are you talking about?"

"Besides the DNA pills to alter physical characteristics, there are pills to enhance certain psychological tendencies. SUB increases the desire to submit to authority, to obey commands, and to display that through prostration and speech. DOM increases the desire to exercise authority, to give orders and to display that through dress and the use of authority symbols such as riding crops. BND increases the desire for security, to be reminded that you are cared for possessed and to display that through being bound, caged, or pinioned. At a minimum, it manifests itself in wearing bangles, bracelets, and necklaces such as Josephina and I are wearing. I feel quite naked and vulnerable without them."

Josephina nodded in agreement.

"I’m getting the picture. But wouldn’t SUB and DOM offset one another?"

"Apparently not always. It can produce a classic tyrant: shit rolls downhill. My apologies for the analogy, Josephina. Hopefully in your case it enhanced your ability to be a good and faithful servant without extinguishing a sense of fairness. The SUB she gave you certainly hasn’t eliminated your need for revenge."

"I try to control my actions. But I confess I have enjoyed administering discipline on the female servants, especially having them work in constraints. I fear I may have wronged some of them in the length and severity of their punishments. But I always wondered why some of them seemed to crave correction, repeating the same mistakes almost deliberately."

"Undoubtedly some more BND at work. Isn’t that true Phoebe?"

Phoebe nodded.

"Thought so. Ah, good. The documents have printed. Now for your signature, Phoebe."

Phoebe shook her head. "You’ll kill me. George will have a blonde trophy to display beside the red and black. And you’ll plant me under another tree. Or dump my body in the sea later."

George looked at Ysabella. "What do the other psychologicals do?"

"MSD heightens the desire for sex with women. FSD for sex with men. Depending on the dose, a perpetual state of horniness."

"Wouldn’t giving her the SUB make her willing to sign the papers?"

"For someone she recognizes as having authority over her."

"Sounds like a job for a husband." George turned to Phoebe. "You are striking, physically desirable. And your fortune certainly makes taming you intriguing, my bonnie Kate. As your husband, I will be your lord and master. But I will break you gently to bit and bridle, so you accept, no, desire, your status. Your channeled spirit will serve us well. Like Kate, you will come to know working in tandem is more than going your way alone. What do you say to that, my sweet Kate?"

"Words, words, just words. I am in your power, and you can say anything. But when I do that, they will evaporate like last night’s dew and I will die."

"Kate, sweet Kate, I could not harm the mother of my children. I will support you, protect you from others, pleasure you even as you give me pleasure. Accept your fate willingly, do not be forced to it. And then you can become a loving wife."

"I can’t believe you, not after, not after . . ."

Priscilla looked confused. "After what?"

"Phoebe called in security. George had to dispose of them."

Priscilla looked around the room. "Oh. That was the noise. But . . ."

"Yes. Herman carried out the debris. Now how to convince my fiancée of my authority."

"Might I make a suggestion?"

"Certainly, Josephina."

"There is the old Scottish tradition of marriage by capture. Once a maid knows her man, she becomes docile. For awhile at least."

"The captive squaw? Might work. Let’s see what we have to work with here."

"Perhaps I should summon her maid, Nanette?"

"Did Phoebe actually get a French maid?" Priscilla glanced at Phoebe. "You said you might."

"Yes, Madam. For her hair and her wardrobe, to attend on her toilette and to keep the boudoir. And for other personal duties as required. From around Champagne, I believe."

"Let’s go up. My bride should be as comfortable as possible when she gives herself to me. Come, pet, give me your hand." George lifted Phoebe up as if she were a feather. "And let me loosen your hair. May it flow over you as water, as your waters will flow within you." George turned her, reached up to remove the pins holding her thick French Roll. Her hair released, unrolling down on her shoulders. George lightly brushed it with his fingers, spreading the strands and loosening them to fall down to her shoulder blades.

Phoebe shuddered. "What’s wrong, my pet, my sweet Kate?"

"You pulled my hair. I’m afraid you’ll scalp me."

"Never fear, my dove. We lay trophies at the feet of our wives, not take them from them." George turned her back around, brushing a few strands over her shoulders onto the tops of her breasts. "Now you look fine. Letting a woman’s hair down always makes her feel more receptive."

"Josephina? Could you lead the way?"

"Certainly, Madam." The little group proceeded up the stairs, not without a backward glance from Priscilla for her babies. But they should nap at least another half hour.

 

CHAPTER 3

 

Josephina knocked once on the bedroom door, then marched in leading the group. "Nanette? Where are you? Mistress Phoebe needs your assistance."

"Mais oui, Mademoiselle. I vas zhust dusting her shoes. Vat does Madam need?" Nanette emerged from the walk-in closet, her red hair falling loose on her bare shoulders. Her ample breasts peeked above a Vee yoke, displaying a deep cleft. As soon as she saw Phoebe, she curtsied, eyes on the floor. "Madame."

"You will undress, her, brush her hair, dress her so she may receive her man."

"Mais oui. Does Madam wish the leather, or the latex, or a costume? She is striking in her riding outfit."

"Not this time. Mistress Phoebe is to become a wife. She needs you to prepare her to know her future husband. A negligee this time. Filmy black to set her off. Not too many layers. I will tend to her husband to be."

Ysabella settled back on a chaise, Priscilla nestling in her arms. Ysabella kissed her ear. "Settle in and get comfy. Are you enjoying this, I hope?"

Priscilla cocked her head, exposing her neck. "Uh-huh. Seeing Phoebe get a dose of her own medicine? I just hope George knows what he’s getting into."

Ysabella nibbled her wife’s neck. "I suspect he can handle it. It’s Phoebe who is about to be surprised at what’s about to get into her!"

Phoebe and George stood in the middle of the sitting room, arms and legs loosely spread while Nanette and Josephina took off their top clothes, arranging them on valets. George stopped Nanette when she had stripped Phoebe down to a golden satin connected bra and brief set, garter belt and stockings. "As lord and master, I claim the privilege of removing those from my consort’s body. Fetch me a satin robe and her a negligee so she may not be cold afterwards." Nanette curtsied to the master and scurried into the closet. Josephina removed his tank tee.

Despite herself, Phoebe could not take her eyes off the body that was about to ravish her. Broad strong shoulders, taut hard muscles on his chest, strongly defined but not huge arm muscles promised to lift and swing her onto the bed, positioning her firmly, maybe gently for loving. Slim waist, heavy thighs, firm calves promised deep firm pumping of her well. She quivered, afraid his strength would tear her, longing for his strength to provide such an eruption of passion that she would want to place her head beneath his foot, to become his willing conquest, his mewling sex kitten longing only for his touch.

As he stood before her, fists on hips, Josephina stretched the waist band of his boxers, pulling the material down his legs. As the band reached his thighs, his tool began to rise from beneath his thatch. When it pointed forward, Phoebe’s eyes widened with surprise and fear. The shaft base was fully two inches across; the still hooded length would reach inside her to her navel. The sack was large and full, fully three inches across. No! I can’t take him! He’ll rip me apart! Flood me! I’ll die in my bed! Phoebe dropped to her knees.

"Please don’t do this. I’ll sign whatever you want." She turned to Priscilla cheeks streaked with tears. "Please, Priscilla, please don’t let him. You loved me once. Forgive me, Priscilla but save me from this. I’ll die if he takes me."

1 Priscilla snuggled against Ysabella. "I can tell you, Phoebe, from experience that much larger than that emerges through that same hole. And it can take even more than that. He may ruin you for ordinary mortals, but you will not die."

Nanette appeared, holding a velvet robe. "I’m sorry, Master, but she only has this blue velvet with a satin collar for men."

"That will do. Hold it until we finish." George knelt beside Phoebe, softly stroking her hair. "Do not be afraid, liebchen. I will prepare you for me before you open yourself to me. I want for my wife to crave my presence, to long to give us children, not fear my touch." He unfastened her bra, pulling her arms through the holes, dropping it before her. His hand softly stroked her belly, caressed the fold under her breasts, rubbed the flat tips of her breasts.

Phoebe wept, shoulders shuddering. "Do not fear, liebchen. My rod and my staff shall comfort thee." His hands stretched and pushed the garter belt over her narrow hips. His hands peeled her stockings down her legs, softly tracing the inside of her legs. His wand twitched and probed the back of her buns.

Phoebe continued to sob. "What’s wrong, liebchen?" His hands covered her thighs, his thumbs gently pressing the lips of her vagina through the satin bottom.

"You’re so bu, bu, big. I, I, I’ll tear."

His lips kissed her neck through her hair. "You smell wonderful. You’ll smell of bread before I enter you slowly, giving you time. Relax. Want me. Want my loving. You will open to be filled, fulfilled." His lips worked at her jaw. She reached back for his head. "That’s it, liebchen. Think of how small, how protected you will feel beneath me. How good it will be to flow and writhe with pleasure, pressing your body against mine. And then your explosion, release, a pool of languid flesh, warm, fuzzy, contented." His fingers slipped her satin pants off her bottom, a finger exploring her crease, caressing her ruby, evoking the first warm drops of desire.

He stood, lifting her with him. One arm encapsulated her waist and he lifted her off the floor, lips nuzzling beneath her hair, hand stroking her breasts as he held her. Nanette knelt to peel the silks from her mistress’s legs and feet. He set her back down, then picked her back up, one arm beneath her thighs, the other under her shoulders. She cradled next to him, head in his shoulder as he carried her to the bed, laying her gently in the middle of the perfumed sheets. Phoebe positively purred as her head came to rest on the pillow.

"That’s it, liebchen, no fear. Just think of how safe you will feel in my arms, wrapped around me, opening to give yourself to me. You are woman, I am man. Your man. You were meant for me, to open to me, receive me. Do you want me to love you?"

Phoebe looked at him, eyes shining. "No fear. Yes, my love, take me gently to Valhalla."

"My God, he’s actually got her asking it. She was never like that with me!"

Ysabella stroked Priscilla’s hair. "Hush, Sweetheart. She’s not thinking how big he is."

George lay beside Phoebe, reaching in for her. Her thighs parted, fell open to his touch. Gently he stroked the inside of her thigh, behind her knee, while nibbling up from her elbow to her shoulder. A hand gathered in her shoulder as he nipped to her neck, his other hand cupping her bush, his finger sliding through her crease. He felt her dampness build below.

She moaned and squirmed, moving to his touch. Her hand grasped his shoulder, drawing him to her. She smelled her building ardor, sniffed the stranger’s heat. Her nipples grew taut, firm, tender. Her belly rippled with desire, pumping oil into her tunnel. "Why do you tease me so? Do you not want me?"

"You must be readied, as a virgin is readied for her wedding night. You must want me, be ready for me, open to receive me. Desire must rule you so that I am your world."

Phoebe drew her knees up, her knees falling open. "My flower is open, my drain is wet. Mount me, my stallion, and fill my heat with your meat."

George covered her teat with his mouth as his finger slipped inside her. It covered with her dew, her walls squeezing the intruder. Fingers played in her hair, tracing her ear lobe. Her leg fell open and she rolled to him. She writhed beneath him, hips clinching. "Come to me, lover, I need you in me. Crush me with your weight, thrust deep in me, fill me, spread me, break me open." Her fingers twined in his hair, pulled at his shoulder. "Come into me, my chief, impale your captive. Make me your helpless squaw."

George slipped a second finger in her, spreading the digits to stretch her entrance for his shaft. Her juices flowed down into his hand, her jewel pulsating under his thumb. His kisses trailed up to her neck as she arched to receive him. His leg pinned her thigh to the bed, his hand twined and twisted in her hair. "Mount me, pin me, take me, fuck me. Don’t leave me in agony!"

A third finger rammed in her twat as he rolled between her legs. His mouth covered hers and she sucked on his tongue. She reached for his hips, grasping his girdle, trying to draw him into her. She humped her torso, scraping her throbbing tits over his chest. Her tunnel was in full flow. George pulled back above her, one hand holding her hair, the other cupping her hip. His legs spread her knees, his spear pointing toward her thicket. He brought a finger to her mouth, letting her taste her liquor. "Squaw want her chief’s big spear? Shrew want screw?"

Priscilla gasped at the size of George’s member. "My God, unless she’s been diddling the animals, that’s the biggest hunk she’ll ever have!"

Ysabella whispered in her ear. "He is magnificent, isn’t he?" George’s prick fully engorged was six inches around at the base and a full ten inches long. The purple head seeking her gateway looked like a battering ram.

"He’ll tear her apart!"

"She’ll take it and love it."

Phoebe finished licking her dew from his finger. Eyes sparkling she nodded. "Please put it in me now. Fuck your wanton slut." She raised her knees offering her hole to his spear.

George grasped his shaft, sliding the head through her folds. He positioned the ram at her gate, flexed his hips, pressing against her ring. Phoebe’s eyes grew wide. "Oh! Oh-h-h! Big! God, oh God! My God, big-g-g!!"

The ram’s head slipped inside, Phoebe’s knees rose further to make room for the ram. Her finger nails dug into his shoulders, her head rolled. "Ai-y-ie! Big! Hurts!" George lowered his hips slightly, driving the ram past her sensitive lips, opening her tunnel, feeling the walls lock around the intruding prod. "A-ah-hg-gh! Big! Hurts! Oh-h! Oh!" Phoebe’s cries subsided to little moans as her tunnel adjusted to the intruding first two inches.

George pumped slightly, slowly, getting her used to her stretch for him. Slowly her moans subsided, her eyes opened filled with tears as she gasped for breath. He reached below, grazing her sweetmeat, now shrunken from the pain. A touch, a caress brought it back to life. Phoebe’s moans became mews of pleasure. "So big, my God, so big. So good." Phoebe became accustomed to her stretch, a shiver running through her body. George lowered his weight some more, Phoebe’s eyes flying open as her tunnel was opened deep into her. Her legs flew up, ankles locking behind his rump as she opened herself wider. "Ai-iy-ye-eh! So deep! Split! Ai-gh-hah!

George pause again, waiting for her to grow accustomed to half him inside her. One hand stroked her cheek as his other arm held her underneath. "Relax, dear one, papa won’t hurt you. Open wide, breath deep, squeeze back. Feel your fullness, let go and feel."

Phoebe breathed deeply once, twice, feeling his hardness prodding inside her. The pain of stretching subsided, a glow of fullness filled her, her legs spread still wider as her ankles climbed his thighs. He flexed, her walls flowing and rippling to adjust, her juices basting the meat. The pain subsided as he lay his head beside hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Are you ready, my dove?"

Phoebe clenched her ass, relaxed, savored the fullness imbedded in her. Her knees rose, rocking her back still further. She rotated her pussy as much as she could around his hardness, feeling he dampness work down to her tunnel mouth. "Uh-huh. Gently, love. You’re so big, so big, so hard, so good."

George thrust himself forward, burying himself to the hilt. His thatch meshed with hers, filling her lips, scraping her protruding clit. Phoebe clenched around him, impaled. "So-o bu-big, so-o big! Awh-hah, so big!" Her knees drew up behind his arms, her heels locked on his haunches as she sought relief.

"Ai-iy-ye-eah-hah! Ai-ye-hah! Ahg-gah-hah! Migawd, migawd, oh-gawd-amity! Ee-ey-ahh!" Phoebe’s orgasm rang through out the room as her body exploded, buttocks shaking, button throbbing, thighs clasping, arms clenching, belly rippling to suck his seed in, force her moistness out. With her last cry, she gulped air and clenched around him, legs, arms, chin, pussy walls, as if she could merge her body with his. His behind shook and shimmied driving his seed through the pipe, exploding into her, flooding her completely. Ever so slowly, Phoebe’s grip relaxed, muscles no longer able to hold as the narcotic sleep overtook her. Her last murmurs before sleep were in George’s ear, "So good, so big, so good, my love. So good."

George deflated, withdrawing from her slaked pussy. He barely managed to roll off her before sleep drained his strength, his nose nestled in her hair, his arm cradling her filled belly. She rolled to his warmth, her arm stealing over his shoulder, collapsing between them. They slept as spent lovers, basking in the dying heat of their coupling.

Ysabella kissed Priscilla’s ear. "Put the babes down early tonight. I’m going to roll you on your back and make you come tonight like you were a virgin." Her finger pressed Priscilla’s mound through her skirt.

"Spread me, split me, take me. We’ll lick each other over and over til we come and then til we come again. Screw me like you could make me pregnant."

Josephina slipped an arm around Nanette’s waist. "The old Mistress and the new Master will tire this afternoon. I will suggest the new owners rest. Slip into the garden room at two-thirty and I will send you to the moon." Nanette squeezed her hand in affirmation. They drew the sheet over the slumbering pair.

 

(Continued)

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Sydney Michelle. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.