Mastering Jacqueline

by Jordan Church

  “Slave, you may look at my guests. Be sure to greet them properly. “

  She looked up clumsily with her hands cuffed behind her and the guests so near.

  It was a man and a woman but it wasn’t her parents. It was much worse than that. It was that redheaded mega-slut Monica and the loathsome half-Dwarf Little Johnson. Oh no!

  They were looking at her like she was a new bike they wanted to ride. That wasn’t far from the truth.

  Hell no. She was determined these creeps weren’t going to touch her. The independent and defiant thought was welcome and refreshing. She was sorely used, vulnerably naked, and embarrassingly positioned but now she had a sense of purpose. Through her outrage and fear, Melissa had found herself again.

  “Shit no. Get out of my place! “

  She began to rise but Kira shoved her hard from behind and she ran into someone’s shin before her face returned to the floor.

  Kira wasn’t pleased. ”Stupid cunt! That is no way to greet your superiors. “

  Little Johnson and the redhead laughed but Melissa couldn’t know for sure if they were laughing at Kira’s undermined authority or at Melissa flailing on the floor. She kept trying to rise and Kira kept shoving her back down harder and harder. The floor was well polished and slick in places from sweat and pussy juice so it was impossible for Melissa to gain traction or balance before being pushed back in place again and again. Melissa was getting angrier to the point of rage and real scared as well but otherwise wasn’t getting anywhere.

  “Slave, you’re not going anywhere until you greet them properly. “

  Melissa hated this Melissa and she was scared of the twisted Little Johnson and his redheaded sidekick. She had to admit, though, apparently she wasn’t going anywhere until she greeted them ‘properly”. She’d have to play along in order to get these mad people out of her house.

  She stopped trying to stand and looked up with a comprised meek expression on her face, “Welcome to my home. Could I get you something to drink? “

  Everyone but Melissa laughed uproariously. Little Johnson was acting like this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Melissa flushed. Somehow their laughter felt even worse than when Kira kept shoving her down.

  Kira, still resentful at Melissa’s lack of total obedience, was first to recover from the burst of laughter, “No, Slave Bitch, you won’t be serving drinks to my guests. Those cuffs belong on you and won’t be coming off any time soon. Not until you’re fully trained so it may be a few weeks. No, we’ll just have to suffer and help ourselves when we’re thirsty. You still haven’t greeted them proper. “

  “But… how? “

  Mistress Kira glared at her and tapped one foot.

  “Ahh, I mean, um, Mistress, how do I greet them properly? “

  Melissa saw Little Johnson and the redhead smile and nod proudly to Kira. It frustrated Melissa that they took such satisfaction in her belittling herself by using the term Mistress and that Kira was getting so much credit at her own expense. Mistress Kira.

  “They’ve come all this way, all the way across town, to see me. It’s dirty and slushy outside. Their footwear must be a slimy mess. It’s only polite for a slave to clean them. “

  “But… Mistress. . . “ Melissa shrugged her bent shoulders to draw attention to her handcuffed hands, “I can’t. Unless… if you could unlock me I guess I could get some towels. “

  “You don’t need your hands to do this, Slave. Use your tongue and mouth. “

  Melissa waited for the laughter at the grotesque joke. There wasn’t any. Melissa risked a quick look up and saw three sets of eyes surrounding her, watching expectantly. They were really waiting for her to start bootlicking! The realization caused Melissa’s vagina to flex powerfully and her nipples hardened all over again as perilous arousal ran up and down her bent spine and dark images filled her mind. She didn’t know what was more impossible; the situation or her reaction to it. It was happening and her arousal was real. She’d never had more than two orgasms in a night and usually had none during sex. In fact, the two were from a night masturbating and were hours apart. She’d already had three and now this expectation of boot licking was actually firing her up all over again.

  The three of them and her own body left her no choice. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not she was going to do it. Somehow she’d been rushed past that boundary of what she would and wouldn’t do without her even realizing and mentally fighting. She was past the boundary and there was no returning. Even before she actually took a single lick.

  Melissa tried to figure where to start. The tall redhead looked statuesque in high heels. There wasn’t too much leather to clean on them. Little Johnson wore wide leather high tops. The redhead’s high heels would be easiest but, judging by the video of the sex abuse of her neighbor Jacqueline, Little Johnson was by far the bossiest. She started with his shoes.

  The shoes were wet from winter slush and gritty with smears of mud. Cleaning them was weird. Even though the act was entirely alien it still felt somehow natural. Her mouth was being put to a logical and appropriate use.

  As her tongue worked Mistress Kira lightly caressed Melissa’s intimates. The stroking of her wet pussy lips was positive reinforcement for her obedient service. Melissa knew that’s what it was. She also knew it was working. That tracing finger was arcing sexual electricity in her. She felt like jamming her pussy onto it.

  She found herself wanting to do a good job cleaning Little Johnson’s shoes. In fact, when her scraping tongue tried to get a dollop of mud on the insole and lost control of it and the spatter of mud dropped to the oily wood floor, she didn’t hesitate. She knew that mud didn’t belong there just like it didn’t belong on Little Johnson’s shoe. It belonged in her little tummy. Her mouth darted to it and kissed and sucked it in. Her tongue briefly swirled it, then she swallowed it down delighted in her miniature accomplishment. Their warm laughter told her they also enjoyed it.

  She heard them talking about her. They talked like she wasn’t even there. She felt like she wasn’t even human any longer. More like some kind of obedient animal. Even slave seemed too ambitious at the moment. Most of the conversation was Mistress Kira reciting what she had put her through so far. It sounded like Little Johnson and the redhead were quite pleased.

  Though they spoke as if Melissa wasn’t present each of them showed her in their own way they were quite aware of her. Mistress cupped her palm up against her damp vulva and frictioned it around to keep the girl’s arousal stoked. The mature redhead leaned in from time to time to deliver sharp spanks to Melissa’s sore ass cheeks. Little Johnson often chuckled and courteously raised each foot in turn to enable Melissa to twist her neck and clean the particularly gritty undersides of his leather high tops. The rubber treads made it a challenge but Melissa tried her best to rise to the challenge while still stooped over with her aching ass and pulsing pussy waggling in the air.

  Melissa finished with Little Johnson’s shoes -- the leather was slick with saliva -- and moved her face over to the redhead’s high heels without further instruction. She was on autopilot. They were her autopilot. The leather high heels were much quicker. Not only was there much less material, her mouth was becoming much more expert at cleaning dirty footwear.

  When she finished her autopilot shut down and released her. She’d run out of instructions and felt a little lost. Her pussy was hot and needy. The dulled pain in her rear only served to fuel it. She needed another orgasm and she felt she deserved it.

  Melissa looked up and was surprised to see Little Johnson’s pants were down to his thighs, he had a relatively huge hard cock, the redhead’s hand was pumping it, and, up above all that, his face was buried in Mistress Kira’s bare chest, his mouth wolfing at one small titty. No one was looking at Melissa. Incongruously, Melissa was momentarily offended they weren’t focused on watching her degrade h
erself. All that hard work and degradation for little or no recognition!

  Well… if the redhead kept working that cock Little Johnson’s stream of come would splash all over her. The bad news was, that wouldn’t get her the orgasm she needed.

  Since they were distracted with each other, Melissa considered for a moment walking on her knees and maybe escaping. The problem with that plan -- besides the unlikelihood of success and resulting significant likelihood of punishment -- was that, besides escaping them, she’d be escaping from her golden opportunity to come all over again.

  One of them noticed her when they looked down at Little Johnson’s cock anyway and commented the slave was done with her task. Little Johnson immediately went to work ordering them about like he was some kind of sexual choreographer. After having them strip, he ordered the redhead -- who he called “Firecrotch” -- onto the loveseat and had Mistress Kira -- who he called “Flamepussy” -- join her, their bare hips crammed tight against each other, their legs next to each other hooked one over the other.

  Melissa didn’t have to wait long to find out her role in this drama.

  “Slave, get that dirty mouth to work on those hot pussies. Give it all you got for five seconds, then switch, and again, and again, and again. Don’t talk and don’t stop until I say. They damn well better both come. I’ll be fucking you while you go down on them but don’t you dare come until after they both do.

  Melissa’s mind was working a little and she couldn’t help herself, “Don’t come inside me. I don’t want to get pregnant. I’m not on birth control. “

  Little Johnson blinked, “You stupid slave! I was actually going to make you come and then cram my dick down your throat and make you swallow my load. But no slave tells a Master like me what to do. Now I am going to come up your sweet snatch! If you get pregnant it’s your own fault for being too stupid to use birth control and for speaking without permission. “

  Little Johnson twisted her head around with his two powerful little hands and crammed her face into the mature redhead’s thick red bush. A moment after her reluctant tongue pushed into the overgrowth of pubic hair and split those heavy wet pussy lips she felt his engorged cock penetrating her own pussy. It was pushy and harsh. She liked that.

  She heard him mutter to himself or perhaps to his female companions, “If she does get pregnant, she should be proud to have my baby. It’s an honor she doesn’t really deserve. “

  That cock did wonderful things for her. It made everything feel so timeless it was a great challenge to keep her five second counts as she switched between pussies. Old, then young pussy, then back again. Full and hairy, then slim and trim, and back again. One woman with pierced nipples and the other a tattooed abdomen. But both had that red hair. Melissa actually wondered if they might be related. How wicked! She noticed they didn’t ever touch each other in a sexual way. Not that Melissa had seen so far. On the other hand -- or tongue -- if they were it sure was nasty how her pussy juice soaked tongue was swapping fluids between their hot slits. Like a bee transporting pollen between flowers.

  So many things channeled shame into Melissa and, with it, overwhelming sinful pleasure. Her pride in arousing both women when she shouldn’t be proud. Her revulsion using her dirty mouth on their intimate areas. She felt unworthy to perform these disgusting acts. She was being pummeled by that surprising cock. She’d be embarrassed if it made her come, more embarrassed if she failed and allowed herself to come too soon, and frustrated out of her mind if she didn’t get to come. It was all so confusing, so good.

  Firecrotch and Flamepussy kept saying mean things about her. Melissa couldn’t get too upset. She supposed it was all true as she spread her legs further and angled her hips so Little Johnson could collide his cock with her even more deeply. The women kept tugging harshly at her hair, nearly ripping it out in hunks, trying to get her to tongue deeper or to move her face back to their own pussy as the case may be.

  Melissa doubted she’d be able to hold off her orgasm…

  Firecrotch twisted one of her ears and purposely dug her fingernails in to get Melissa’s attention. It would be an outrage if this slave insubordinately came before she did.

  “Stop slopping around. Get your tongue on our clits turn by turn and wiggle it like an electric feather. Keep doing it until we come and don’t you dare come! “

  Melissa did as she was told. Firecrotch and Flamepussy reacted powerfully to the treatment and it made Melissa’s penetrated pussy grip in empathy. She wondered what it would feel like to have a wet soft tongue fluttering like a hummingbird over her own clitoris. She wondered if slaves ever got to experience that sort of delight.

  They did get other delights, however. Like Firecrotch spraying a female ejaculation in her face. Like Flamepussy yelling in passion as she, too, came under the hummingbird’s attempts to land. Like actually feeling jets of invading sperm being pumped deep into her pussy and then pushed higher by continued thrusts.

  Like a delightful massive orgasm now that all of her assignments were complete. Her cries were muffled as Firecrotch’s demanding hand moved her face a couple inches down and forced her into the wet folds of Flamepussy’s post orgasmic pussy.

  When her shudders finally slowed to a stop Little Johnson pulled out and Firecrotch used the palm of her hand on Melissa’s forehead to shove her to the floor.

  Flamepussy giggled wearily, “I have it. I know what this slave’s name will be. She has earned it and we will remember tonight whenever we call her by name. I dub her Wiggle Tongue. Ha Ha! “

  Little Johnson and Firecrotch both expressed approval. No one asked Melissa -- Wiggle Tongue -- her opinion.

  “Wiggle Tongue, get your ass high in the air and face on the floor, and hold that pose. “

  Wiggle Tongue did as ordered. She was still handcuffed and the position was very uncomfortable to hold.

  Mistress Kira spoke again, “That will keep all that precious sperm inside you and gravity will bring it down into your womb. Who knows, maybe you will get pregnant. Then there would be a little Little Johnson! I’m sure that tyke would be a holy terror! “

  The Master and two Mistresses were all laughing in delight at the prospect. Wiggle Tongue was in mental agony at the thought of pregnancy and of being forced to hold her position to help that along. Bad enough running a small risk of pregnancy, so much worse to be made to work against herself.

  As intolerable as the situation was, defying them felt like a worse transgression. After all, she could get away with obeying them and hurting her own interests but displeasing them was not an option. Clearly, disobedience was no longer part of her newly approved slave personality. She was Wiggle Tongue now. If impregnating her would amuse them she must do whatever she could to obey and help.

  She held her uncomfortable pose. She could feel -- as least she imagined she could -- the warm load of sperm slithering around and spreading out inside her.

  They hadn’t spoken to her in several minutes as they lay about catching their breath but she felt she had to say something just to reassure them she would be obedient and would faithfully hold her position despite the physical and mental discomfort.

  “Yes, Mistress. “

  Chapter 7

  Jackie didn’t see Melissa in the morning. Half-asleep she’d heard noises over at her neighbors the night before. The walls in the apartment complex were none too thick. It had sounded like a small party. Yells and loud groans like they were playing drinking games. Very unlike Melissa. Jackie thought she’d heard Melissa’s friends leave at about two in the morning.

  Everything was quiet over there after that but the damage had been done. Jackie had tossed and turned all night worried about today. As a result, weary, she was not at all ready for today. Everything seemed to get harder and harder for Jackie all the time. She felt like something had to give.

  She was too mentally and
morally tired to knock on Melissa’s door and try to warn her. Besides, the poor dear was probably hung over from her little party. Jackie would spare her.

  ***

  As Jackie walked through the door to Robert’s patient waiting room she felt like she was on an invisible and frictionless slide. There was no getting off until she hit bottom. She even had that nervous fluttery plummeting feeling low in her abdomen. Now the long slide down was twisting and turning away from the Institute incarcerating the all-controlling Wayne Jones and away from the Little Johnson-led invasion of her home. The slide would now pass through the offices of respected near-retirement Dr. Robert Arlington. First her home was tainted, and then her work. Now the taint would spread to her future dreams. The agent of that infection? Herself.

  Lost in foreboding thoughts Jackie was startled when she reached the receptionist desk. She had forgotten about the bizarre new receptionist. The brown-haired, admittedly beautiful young woman with the crazy look in her eyes. On Jackie’s last visit -- what seemed like months ago but was actually only little over a week -- this girl had been “accidentally” puncturing her fingers with a stapler. She’d seemed to enjoy it almost sexually.

  Jackie let her know she was there to see Robert without an appointment and understood she might have to wait a while. The young woman -- Jackie now thought of her as Crazy Eyes and didn’t really want to know her real name since she didn’t like her -- showed no emotion, made no indication of the expected wait, or even that she’d tell Robert that Jackie was there. She simply pointed at the soft pastel chairs in the waiting area.

  Inwardly, Jackie swore an oath that mission number one once she became Robert’s partner would be the termination of Crazy Eyes. She’d talk him into it based on efficiency or build a case by piling up written reprimands. Either way, she would make damn sure Crazy Eyes was out of a job.