Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
This work of fiction features incest combined with hard BDSM, so please stop reading right here if you don’t like the juxtaposition. There’s plenty of both, so please don’t read and submit an irate comment(s) if you object to the mix of these two genres. All characters are of legal age.
A few months later, Janette and her best friend and submissive protégé, Angelina or Angie, had become so close that they visited colleges and universities together and even applied to mostly the same institutions. Janette received early acceptance from Masters College, hardly surprising due to her excellent grades, extracurricular activities, and the fact that her father, Matt, was an alumnus and generous contributor.
However, Angie’s grades and other activities were not as good, and her mother, Justine, had applied for a full scholarship, so Angie’s admission was questionable. Without Justine’s knowledge, Matt had made a sizable, extra donation to the school, while mentioning to the head of the Financial Office that his daughter’s best friend was another applicant.
A month later he spoke with the Dean of Admissions and requested that he personally interview mother and daughter before making a decision. Matt, who’d made discreet inquiries about the Dean’s personal proclivities, informed the Dean of intimate details about this very special pair, sent a number of revealing photos and videos of bondage and submission, and recommended a private interview at the end of the workday.
So at 4:30 pm on a Friday, the pair, carefully dressed, arrived at the Dean’s luxurious office. Justine was impressed by the gorgeous campus: its handsome buildings, rolling lawns and quads, magnificent trees, state-of-the-art facilities and luxurious amenities. The Dean was excited by seeing the two hot beauties in the flesh. Justine looked like she was in her late twenties, as if she was an older sister of Angie. Both exuded sensuality like no mother-daughter pair he’d ever met.
He’d set the thermostat at 80º, so Justine and Angie, with their tight, short-waisted jackets over wispy tight blouses, were uncomfortably hot. Unconsciously, they both sat in their chairs with their legs spread wide, their ankles and heels resting outside the chair legs.
“Let’s have a drink,” he began. “What would you like?”
“I’d like a vodka on the rocks, please, and Angie will have a white wine,” Justine said.
“Good. A vodka for me as well. Angie, would you make them for us?” This was his first test of the girl’s obedience.
“Of course, sir,” the young beauty said, smiling and walking over to the small bar that rested above a mini refrigerator.
While she fixed the drinks, the Dean asked Justine, “I assume you’re pleased with what you’ve seen here at Masters?”
“Oh of course,” Justine said enthusiastically. “The school is wonderful. And thank you for seeing us. You must be so busy.”
“I’m happy to do so for an alumnus as thoughtful and. . . talented as your friend, Matt.” Angie served the drinks. The Dean noticed that she’d made triples for him and her mother. They drank. “You probably know that admission here is practically a guarantee of later success in life, whether a graduate’s path is in business, education, science, medicine, government — whatever. The issue is that Angie’s application is. . . borderline, so the purpose of this interview is to get to know you both more. . . personally.”
They all drank. “Angie, your grades are good but not terrific. And I know that last year, you and your mother moved to Matt’s city and you attended a new school, which is all very disruptive. Are you. . . physically active at all?”
Angie finished her glass. “Yes, Dean, I wasn’t on the soccer, softball or volleyball teams this past year because I was studying so hard, but I’m fit. I work out 5–6 days a week, like Mom. Matt has an incredible exercise room at his house.”
“Hmmm,” he pondered. “Why don’t you refresh your wine?” He watched as the leggy beauty walked to the bar and turned his attention to the perspiring mother. “Justine, you look uncomfortable. Why don’t you take off your jacket?”
She looked at him for several seconds, recalling the previous night, when Matt had given her strict instructions: she and Angie were to cooperate fully with the Dean. Justine had objected, whereupon he’d slapped her tits, spanked her pussy and given her a serious whipping. When he had finished with her, she was kneeling, her body hanging limply from an overhead cord wrapped around her wrists, her pussy lips and tits swollen and dense with fresh, livid marks. “Don’t you understand that your daughter’s future rests on this one interview?” Matt asked. “Do you understand?” She nodded and he roughly face-fucked the semi-conscious sub mother.
Remembering Matt’s warning, Justine slowly unbuttoned and removed her blouse for the Dean. “Just as I thought,” the Dean said to himself. The slut wore a sheer, tight white blouse, clearly revealing her big tits and dark, thick nipples straining against the damp fabric. Excited and ashamed about her excitement, Justine took a big swallow of taksim grup yapan escort her vodka.
Angie slowly walked to her chair, sipping her second glass of chilled white wine. “No need to sit,” the Dean said. “Turn around and raise your skirt so I can see how fit you are.”
Angie set her glass down on his desk and swiveled so her back was facing him, extending her legs widely. Gradually, she raised her skirt, exposing firm thighs encased in powder blue stockings. Without prompting, she raised the material till her lacy stocking tops showed, then the bare, smooth, tanned young skin above them, and finally her ass, only partially covered in tight lacy boyshorts. “And the front?” he said.
Angie turned in place, but without lowering her skirt, till she faced him, the skirt rucked at her waist. The lace covering the tight boyshorts ended around her slit, clearly showing her thick heavy labia and the shaved skin around them. “Yes you look fit — and lovely,” the Dean said approvingly, his cock twitching. You can lower your skirt and go wait in the anteroom till I call you.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said and left, shutting the door behind her.
~ ~ ~
The Dean turned to Justine. “Another of our traditions here is that the mother of a girl on full scholarship participates in various school activities. For example, during Parents’ Weekend, she assists me by being my companion and host: making parents feel welcome, involving them in conversation, etc. For example, there’s the Friday evening cocktail party and dinner, then the big game on Saturday afternoon, etc.”
“I’d be happy to help. . . in any way that pleases you,” Justine said.
“Good. I think you’d be wonderful. And it helps that you’re a teacher yourself. There are also two, how shall I say. . . private events. After the Friday dinner, the senior, executive administration gathers for late night brandies and planning.” Justine looked at him, perplexed. “The group consists of our president, the board chairman, the dean and myself. Just four of us.”
“And my duties would be?”
“Service. . . That is, you would serve drinks like brandy and port. And,” he added slowly, “make the men. . . comfortable.” His words were fraught with obvious meaning. There was a long silence. “Do you think you could. . . handle that?”
Justine looked back at him, in shock at this brazen proposition. She closed her eyes, reeling dizzily with humiliation, envisioning what the scene might be like. She’d frequently serviced three at a time: her father, brother and uncle, and recently, once Justin was eighteen, her father, brother and him. Very recently she’d been ordered to submit to four and then five: her four family members plus Matt. She could only remember parts of that scene, giving hand jobs to two of them, cocksucking the third while she was DP’d up her ass and in her cunt. But this “private event” gathering would mostly be total strangers. Her eyes downcast to hide her lurid excitement, she asked, “What do they like?”
“Oh, no worries on that account. They have the same tastes as you and I do. And they are generous. . . .”
“How do you mean?”
“If you please them — and I have absolutely no doubt that you will — they tend to express their appreciation in terms of clothes, vacation trips and special opportunities for the hostess’s student child. Special funding, trips, opportunities, connections and so on.”
She said agreeably, “I’ll do my best, Dean. You said there are two events?”
“Yes. Late on Saturday night, there’s a similar meeting, by exclusive invitation, with the year’s four largest donors, men who have contributed a million dollars or more, sometimes much more. These are powerful, demanding men, who are sued to getting what they want.”
“And my responsibilities would be?”
“The same. The difference is that these men tend to be much more generous than the academic group, since the donors are all extremely wealthy. Jewelry, designer couture, first-class round-trip plane tickets to 5-star hotels and resorts. . . .”
“That sounds exciting. Besides serving them drinks, will they expect. . . anything different than the Friday night group?”
“Hmmm. For example, have you ever worn a serving tray?”
Justine was confused. “Umm, I’ve been a waitress and know how to handle a tray.”
He laughed. “No, this is a special wood tray. One side is slightly curved and rests against the abdomen. Leather straps extend from each corner that rests against the belly and the straps tie in the back at the waistline. Along the front edge of the tray are three chains. The middle one is attached to a neck collar. The two chains at the outside tray corners end in clamps that connect to the server’s nipples.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, imagining the nipple pain. “What’s on the tray?”
“Snifters, wine glasses, highballs filled with their drinks.”
“That sounds like it could be quite painful,” she said, picturing her big nipples brutally stretched while the men ogled her torment.
“Well, the tray is small, taksim masöz escort but yes, it requires a submissive with a high tolerance to pain.” The Dean imagined the sight of Justine’s long nipples permanently stretched another half-inch. Nervously, she squirmed in her chair. He snapped back from his reverie. “Of course, the more pain you’re willing to bear, the more generous they like to be.”
“I’ll do my best,” she said ingratiatingly.
“That’s the spirit. I think we’ll do some experiments today. I have a couple of ideas that will put your training to the test.”
“Wha–what will you do?”
“Oh, that would spoil the fun. Let’s just say that the first involves suction and the second uses heat.” Justine guessed that he’d suck hard on her nipples for the first and drip hot wax for the second. She would soon learn — the hard way — how utterly wrong she was.
~ ~ ~
He opened the door. “Angie, please come in.” When the girl entered, he added, “Take off your daughter’s jacket.” Justine finished her stiff cocktail, stood behind Angie, unbuttoned the girl’s jacket and pulled it off. He observed that the girl’s tits might be slightly smaller than her mother’s, but the nipples looked as dark and as oversized. Without being asked, Justine undid the skirt and it dropped to the floor.
“Would you like to see her flat stomach and good biceps?” Justine prompted, practically pimping her nubile daughter.
“Yes.” Justine undid the blouse and the Dean saw the cooperative student’s superb tits encased in a matching, powder blue, tight balconette bra, which had no lace around the large, charcoal gray areola and even darker nipples. Still standing behind her daughter, Justine fastened her hands around the girl’s wrists and slowly pulled them behind her back and crossed her hands in the rear till the girl uttered “Ohhh!” from the strain, her tits thrusting outward, the fat nipple stalks straining against the light fabric.
Justine spoke into her submissive daughter’s ear. “Why don’t you show the Dean some of the skills you’ve been learning and practicing?” Justine picked up two thick pillows and placed them on the floor between the nubile slut and the college official. She pushed on the girl’s bare shoulders till Angie was kneeling. The Dean rolled his chair over to the girl. She undid his belt and zipper and pulled out his thick, 7-inch cock.
Angie first began licking the crown, then his balls and finally the entire shaft, slurping noisily and enthusiastically enjoying the cocksucking. This was an expert blowjob. “Strip,” he said to Justine between his groans of pleasure. Justine watched her daughter’s cocksucking while peeling off her own damp blouse and skirt. This was the best b-job he’d ever had, and from an 18-year-old. When he saw Justine clad in her matching charcoal gray lingerie ensemble, the Dean became even harder and bigger in the teen’s mouth.
The two women looked almost alike, but there were clear differences. Instead of a balconette bra, Justine’s bigger and heavier tits rested on a shelf bra, the nipples half visible, the lower half constantly rubbing against the edge of the fabric, keeping them continually engorged. Unlike most big nipples, hers were considerably thicker than a pencil, easily the width of a Sharpie marking pen.
“You really must be a slut to wear a bra like that,” he said. “Have your nipples been stretched to their current size?”
This is how big they’ve always been,” she said shamefacedly, embarrassed about her massive nipples.
She wasn’t wearing boyshorts; she wore bikini panties. But that wasn’t all. Unlike her daughter’s fine, satiny, unblemished skin, the mother’s normally satin skin was covered with dozens of marks. Weals heavily marked her naked tits. The stripes began above her knees and grew wider and closer together on her upper and inner thighs. The Dean wondered if Matt also pussy-whipped her; probably so. Similarly, the welts on her belly grew more livid and frequent as they descended to her shaved mons.
Concerned about satisfying the Dean as much as possible, the debauched mother placed her hands on both sides of her daughter’s glossy black hair and began rhythmically forcing the girl’s head down on the Dean’s prick. He was amazed. The last thought he had before cumming was that a mother was forcing her own daughter to face-fuck him. Since this was the best blowjob he’d ever had, he erupted into the stunning girl’s eager mouth, shooting a dozen lengthy spurts.
Once the Dean had come down, he saw that Angie was flailing her hands, her cheeks bulging obscenely with his load, like a squirrel fully stocked for a long winter. She couldn’t contain it. A long thin stream of cum escaped from the center of her mouth, flowed over her chin and fell to the floor. Here was the hottest high school senior ever, kneeling in front of his dangling dick, and she’d been trained not to swallow without permission. She mewled in panic, desperate for his decision, fearing she’d be punished if any more escaped or if she swallowed. Justine leaned down and slowly licked taksim otele gelen escort the jizz off her daughter’s chin.
As he stared, more of his cum escaped from the corners of Angie’s mouth and began flowing down her cheeks and splashing onto her tits. The girl became even more alarmed. He looked around for a receptacle, saw his empty cocktail glass and shoved it in front of the panicked girl’s face. She dumped his hot jizz into the glass, which immediately filled to the brim. But she still held more. He set the glass down on the desk, grabbed Justine’s empty glass and Angie gratefully filled it as well, reaching up from the floor to set it back on the desk.
She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “You may swallow the rest,” he permitted. Gratefully, Angie swallowed several times, relishing the taste of the sweet heavy spunk, only slightly salty, leaving the residue on her thick lips, as she’d been taught. “That was excellent.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she smiled, multiple strands of cum stretching between her thick lips when she spoke. She swallowed the rest of her wine. He turned his attention to the mother, who’d been mashing her tits, pulling her nipples and fingering her slit, her lips coated with the spunk she’d licked from Angie’s face. The gusset of Justine’s panties was soaked. Was she as submissive as the girl? he wondered. She was standing in front of the desk, breathing heavily, her big gray eyes lidded. He realized that the two vodka glasses, situated on the edge of the desk where she was standing, were the same distance apart as her tits.
“Angie, take off your mother’s bra.” The girl happily complied, revealing fresh lurid marks on the underside of Justine’s tits. “Did Matt whip your tits recently?”
Justine nodded, flooding with shame. “Last night, in honor of this interview with you. He knows you like to see. . . markings.”
“Angie, go stand behind your mother. Now hold her wrists firmly behind her.” Justine shook her head, humiliated yet aroused by the degrading scene that was about to happen. Angie, furious with her mother for pushing and forcing her into face-fucking the Dean, roughly yanked Justine’s wrists behind her back. “Ohhh!” Justine cried out from her daughter’s harshness, although her pussy flooded at the humiliation of being manhandled by her daughter in front of this demanding Dom.
First the Dean applied two metal mini-clamps to Justine’s jutting nipples, so the tiny clamps were sticking straight out horizontally, in line with the nipple stalks. He tightened the tiny screws until the jaws compressed into the bulging nipple tips. Justine whipped her head back and forth, exhaling in short bursts as she adjusted to the pain, excited beyond belief to be treated this way, on campus in an office with a total stranger and her forceful daughter.
Then the Dean took a clear nipple pump tube and carefully slid it over a clamped and tortured nipple till the shaft was embedded in a massive charcoal areola almost twice the size of a half dollar. The two women stared, stupefied by the bizarre sight they’d never experienced, Justine on the verge of coming from the nipple torture.
The Dean began pumping as the woman and girl stared in fascination. First the areola was drawn into the clear casing, distorting and elongating. Then the clamped nipple, already almost an inch long, was relentlessly pulled inside and pumped till it was an astonishing 1 ½ inches in length. Close to cumming, Justine’s legs begin scissoring. To support her mother, Angie placed her arms under Justine’s armpits, her thigh wedged between her mother’s legs, saturated by her slutty mother’s wetness, leaning the slut back on her daughter’s heaving, sweat-soaked chest.
The Dean meticulously repeated the operation on Justine’s other nipple and the perverted pain-slut mother came to the brink, grunting loudly as her shoulder blades ground into her daughter’s stiff nipples. Angie sank down into the chair, her knee forcing the slut mother’s legs further apart till the wet labia spread open. The Dean ogled the sight of Justine sprawled on Angie, the whip marks on the mother’s recently whipped tits and belly moving with her heaving breath.
He plunged three fingers between the heavy wet labia and up her cunt, grinding his thumb against the big fat clit. Justine was cumming, bucking like a wild horse in her daughter’s controlling arms. Now that her engorged clit had swollen enough for him, he added another of the tiny clamps to her clit hood, placed a small pump over her clit and hood, and gloated as the clamp and long thick flesh were pulled up the tube and distorted till the clit was an inch long. This time the pain slut yelled, cumming wildly and completely out of control, bouncing so frenziedly on Angie’s lap that the Dean was surprised she didn’t fall onto the floor.
The Dean stripped off his clothes. “Keep holding her,” he said to Angie, who tightened her grip on her sweating, delirious mother. The Dean placed a small footstool in front of the chair and between the women’s legs. He pushed his cock between Justine’s meaty labia, sank it all the way in till the plastic clit pump was bent to the side by his groin, and fucked her hard. The nipple pumps flopped wildly around, bending and twisting the distorted nipples. Justine screamed in ecstasy, swinging around so wildly that it was a struggle for Angie to keep Justine, now crazed with white-hot cumming, lying on top of her.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32