A Mother's Painful Duty

Emily felt her mother's fingers on her mouth, probing, then a nipple forced against her lips and tongue. . Her mother guided Emily's jaw so that her tongue was circling the nipple, wetting it and caressing it eagerly. Emily was rewarded with a faint groan of satisfaction. Mrs Armstrong sighed when Emily seemed to tire of her task and grunted with pleasure when the adoration of her swollen breast continued to her satisfaction. Emily was made transfer her attentions to the other breast and her mother lay with her thumbs resting on Emily's closed eyelids and her long fingers probing her ears as though she were invading and taking posession of every one of Emily's senses. Mrs Armstrong then began touching Emily's lips with tiny, dry, pecking kisses. Emily opened her eyes to see that the aureoles of the nipples had swollen to cover as much of the breasts as she could see. Trapped between her mother's thighs, Emily desired nothing but to obey. Ten minutes later, when both breasts were equally engorged and slippery, Emily said, "Can we rest for a moment, Mommy?"

"No, Emily," Mrs Armstrong said testily. "If I just wanted a little quick pleasure don't you think I could have managed quite well enough on my own? You must learn to be a little more considerate."

Mrs Armstrong began to rock gently to and fro, her belly pressing heavily on Emily's

She directed Emily to start kissing her on the neck and throat, All this time Emily was held in a tight embrace in her mother's arms and she took it as perfectly natural that her mother did not otherwise caress her. To be held in her arms, to know she would never be thrashed again was more than enough. Emily had not expected to gain anything more that a feeling of loving intimacy from their encounter nor was she sure that her mother, whatever her own predilections, would altogether approve if Emily showed any pleasure.

Emily knew she was being used cavalierly and that her mother's experience must have been provided by the string of carefully chosen foreign maids, none of whom had ever seemed to last very long. There had been a few scenes, nothing as bad as with Dr Mappamundi and most left with new clothes and luggage and satisfied smiles on their faces and, no doubt, a substantial severance payment. How bitter for Dr Mappamundi to become merely the latest of these! Emily began to feel the first fluttering of real desire as her mother, who perhaps now felt herself sufficiently aroused, began to move her pelvis against the body beneath her, slowly and voluptuously at first, pressing Emily down by the shoulders so that Emily shyly grasped her around the waist. Mrs Armstrong gradually increased the pace of her rhythm, so gradually, so utterly at her own pleasure, that it was almost five minutes before she stiffened to a canter, at first effortlessly riding the helpless girl between her legs, then, without warning, beginning to bear down violently, grinding her into the depths of the bed, so furiously that their teeth almost clashed as Emily tried to rear to up to kiss the woman she had now been brought to adore.

But Mrs Armstrong did not even see Emily, her eyes were sunk back in her head as she fought towards her orgasm, gasping hoarsely and unashamedly as she thrashed up on down on the girl beneath her, as though intent on conquering her in mortal combat. Emily remembered what Dr Mappamundi had said and felt her own orgasm approaching. Mrs Armstrong was struggling now, frantic for release, her gasping intakes of breath becoming quicker and quicker. Emily almost fainted in passionate surrender and had a long, gently fluttering orgasm as Mrs Armstrong began to gasp hoarsely, then pulled herself up to straddle Emily fully, throwing herself forward to lean on the pillow leaving Emily's face buried deep in her navel. "This can't be happening," Emily thought in wonder. "I am now my mother's tart," as her sovereign mistress lay half across her, her face buried in the pillow to muffle her long drawn out groans of satisfied desire.

Part 5 .

Emily and Dr Mappamundi embraced and Emily enjoyed the feeling of the fragile bones, the tiny waist as her hand brushed against it, the pressure of the small, perfectly supported breasts under the elegant pale blue suit and the perfectly judged darker blue silk blouse. Dr Mappamundi's green eyes were as enticingly bright as Emily remembered and her blonde hair was as well-groomed as ever.

"I thought I would be meeting your mother," Dr Mappamundi said, smiling.

"Dr Mappamundi," Emily enthused, "so good to see you."

"Please, call me Grace. It's a long time since I was your teacher."

"Can I get you anything, Madam?" Carla asked

"It's Professor now," Grace Mappamundi said. "Oh, I'll have a gin and tonic, if I may."

Emily's dark-haired secretary went to the sideboard and prepared the drinks, a small Scotch and water for Emily and Grace Mappamundi's gin and tonic. Carla was a short, stocky woman with a dark complexion and black eyes. She was casually dressed in a pinafore dress and sneakers and had a comfortable air of efficiency about her.

"I'll be at the pool if you want me, madam," she said to Emily as she left the room.

"You know it's due to your family – the Armstrong Trust that I've got tenure," Dr Mappamundi said. "The annual bequest is amazing. I know we dealt through your attorneys, but I always assumed it was your mother……… "

Emily smiled.

"Mother passed nearly everything to my sister and me four years ago in a donatio inter vivos. Well, I got the house and most of the money, because she doesn't trust my sister's husband and anyway he's got plenty"

"She is in good health?" Grace Mappamundi asked.

"Yes, okay. She had a small stroke five years ago and lost the full use of her legs for a while, but she's fully recovered now."

"Oh dear," Professor Mappamundi sighed. "But Emily, my friend, oh my sweet friend," she rose from her chair and bent down to kiss Emily tenderly on the cheek, I owe so much to you."

Emily motioned to Dr Mappamundi to sit beside her on the broad arm of the leather-covered armchair.

They sipped their drinks contentedly.

"So you aren't married?" Emily asked.

"No, nothing like that," Professor Mappamundi said "And yourself, Emily? Are you in a relationship?"

"No," Emily confessed. "After…well, after you left…remember…I was…well, very much tied up with mother for a while…"

Professor Mappamundi looked at her keenly as though wondering how to interpret this. Choosing her words carefully as she always did she said, "And your mother, is she, er? That is an attractive young woman who let me in. Your secretary?"

"That's right, she's responsible for the day to day running of the house. I ….Well, I had to take her on a couple of years ago. Up to that I had been doing most of the housework myself.."

"You mean you didn't have a maid?"

"No, " Emily blushed in spite of herself. She remembered that Dr Mappamundi had been aware of her mother's relationships with a succession of maids. "Mother let the maid go soon after you left."

"I see,"Dr Mappamundi said gravely.

""I don't really want to talk about it," Emily said. "Let's just say that Mother and I have always had a rather …stormy relationship. But that part of it is over now."

"You were such a nervous child," Dr Mappamundi said. "But you've changed. Is it the money? You look so confident now."

"I hope I haven't changed too much," Emily said.

"No," Professor Mappamundi said. "Look, Emily, please remember me as your friend. I know you do, and I am not stupid enough to think that the endownment to the philosophy Department is not unconnected to our … our past friendship. But it puts me in an awkward position, as I am speaking to my benefactor….someone who has truly altered my life…."

"Dr..I mean, Professor," Emily corrected herself with a smile, "I will never forget how you actually took the trouble to call to this house to speak on my behalf – what you had to go through …at mother's hands… And there is…there is something I want to ask of you."

"Please tell me, Emily," Dr Mappamundi dropped to her knees on the floor and clasped Emily's hands. "I would so wish to be able to do anything for you, believe me…"

"Well, I don't do much here now," Emily said. "I have the house running the way I want it and beyond choosing the menus and picking flowers for the house and a little gardening, I am an idle bitch. So I thought of continuing my philosophy studies…

I mean, I know I got my degree, but I would like to take it much further…"

Dr Mappamundi gave a little squeal of delight.

"Oh, Emily, how wonderful." She threw her arms around Emily's waist and hugged her tightly.

"I don't want you to think, just because I've given all that money…." Emily said.

"Emily, you know how I felt about you. I always wanted to…,"

"I just want to say a bit more about mother," Emily said. "Well, when she got this stroke she had to go to hospital…"

Emily still remembered the horror of trying to get her unconscious mother off her and to remove all traces of their lovemaking before calling the ambulance. She had been terrified that her mother might die while she delayed, but she'd put her mother in a bedside chair and changed the sheets and removed her own clothes and underwear from the room before picking up the telephone.

"Well, when she came out she'd completely lost her persuasive qualities, her powers of argument. And with it she'd suffered some sort of a personality change, although they couldn't trace any actual brain damage."

Emily took Dr Mappamundi's glass to pour her another drink.

"Mother hates the taxman more than the devil and she decided to have everything transferred. Well, it meant there was a bit of a shift in power – and she could no longer dominate me – that never came back. In the first few months she couldn't manage the stairs very well, so I converted an old butler's pantry on the ground floor into a bedroom. I put her in there, along with all those damned Chinese carvings from the hall."

"The hall seemed much brighter," Dr Mappamundi said carefully.

"Yes, I changed the door for a glazed one and had a new window put in on the south side of the house," Emily said.

"And what about….?"

"Yeah, well, that was the problem. Particularly when she was fully recovered physically. She started bellyaching about the lack of…well, you know. You probably guessed that for a time we…well, we had a sort of relationship. Anyway, I had made up my mind, there was nothing doing."

"I see."

"She was begging me to even masturbate her, but I felt that was all past tense with me and I refused. I'd hear her crying at night and, in the end, I started interviewing maids. Trying to fix something for her. It was difficult as hell to get it across that I wanted someone who'd sleep with her as well as do the chores. There are plenty of lesbians out there, but Mother's nearly sixty now."

Emily crossed to the sideboard and poured herself another drink.

"Anyway, out of the blue, Carla turned up. And I immediately found she'd been a maid here before. I barely remembered her but I know there was something different – she was polite enough but she had this sort of "fuck you" look in her eye sometimes. Anyway, it was easy enough to talk with her about the lovemaking bit. She knew what was wanted and don't forget I was able to offer very good money. But I found Carla wasn't quite what I'd expected. She described some of the things they'd got up to way back when. She made certain proposals which, to be honest, turned me on no end. "

"But I thought Carla was your secretary!"

"Yeah, she works for me, of course. But, well let's say I just pull the strings sometimes. It would work anyway, but having someone else watching and controlling makes it diferent. The effect of the observer, . It's a bit like that…"

"Schroedingers cat?" Dr Mappamundi said

"Yeah.. Let me show you how it started, the bit Mother doesn't like…"

Emily opened a walnut cabinet and selected a labelled videotape which she slipped into a video player under the television set in a corner of the room.

"Carla now has the bedroom downstairs and Mother sleeps in a cot in the corner or sometimes Carla takes her into bed. There is a surveillance camera which they are both aware of and accept."

On the screen Carla, wearing a wool dress and black woollen stockings, was sitting on an upright wooden chair and beside her Mrs Armstrong was undressing, then, still in her bra, but without her panties she was pulled across Carla's knee. Professor Mappamundi winced as she saw the hairbrush descend with a crack on Mrs Armstrong's defenceless buttocks. The older woman shrieked and tried to struggle, but was firmly subdued by the muscular Carla. Emily switched off.

"You get the idea," she said. "Come over here."

She again placed her arms around Dr Mappamundi's slender body, feeling the dainty breasts against hers, caressing with her hands the delicate shoulderblades and feeling the narrow bra strap in the delightful hollow of her partner's back. She licked her lips for a moment, feeling her mouth become dry and her throat constrict, then kissed Dr Mappamundi on the full lips, tasting the faint perfume of her lipstick, then, gently, forced her tongue into her mouth. She felt the mouth soften and surrender under hers, the body melt against her. Then she broke away.

"Come with me, I want to show you something," she said thickly.

They went into the large room which, Emily knew, Dr Mappamundi would recognise as Mrs Armstrong's former bedroom. It was now modernised to Emily's taste with a very feminine and luxurious circular bed, black and orange modern paintings on the walls, and floor to ceiling wardrobes in light wood with mirrored doors. The room had large bow windows to the front, but Emily led Dr Mappamundi to a smaller window which looked out to the side of the house.

Below was a large new swimming pool with a lawn to one side on which lay a rug and some cushions. On a reclining chair by the poolside sat a woman with bare breasts, with a sarong around her waist and wearing a sombrero on her head. A maid was crossing the tiled area from the house, carrying a tray with a tall iced drink. The maid in her black dress and white apron was tall and walked gracefully. She had beautiful legs. When she came out of the shadow of the house the sun shone brightly on her face and hair.

"Good God, Emily, it's your mother!" Dr Mappamundi said.

The woman in the sarong tasted the drink and said something to the "maid" She also pointed to the other side of the pool and seemed to be complaining about a towel that had been dropped there. Her voice was surprisingly angry and it was clear she wasn't acting. Mrs Armstrong, in her maid's uniform, was trying to justify herself .

"What makes it really interesting," Emily said, "is that Mother is not always very good in the submissive role. Sometimes she fights back. That's when the fun really starts…"

Emily opened the window a crack and they could hear raised voices. Mrs Armstrong appeared to have stopped arguing and now stood with her head bowed while the smaller woman continued to berate her. To Dr Mappamundi's astonishment, Mrs Armstrong began to undress, first removing her apron which Carla ordered her to leave on a chair beside the pool. Then the older woman unbuttoned the top of her dress and stepped out of it. She faltered then, standing in silhouette against the flashing light on the blue of the pool. She was a little plumper than Dr Mappamundi remembered her, her belly a little softer, but she was still magnificent in her satin bra and a tiny pair of white cotton briefs.

"Mother adores nice underwear," Emily whispered in Dr Mappamundi's ear, "but when she's in uniform she's always obliged to wear a pair of Carla's cast off panties."

Dr Mappamundi gulped.

"But why?"

"Just to remind her of her position," Emily said.

Dr Mappamund felt Emily's arm creep around her waist. She could scarcely believe Emily was doing this. She felt a wave of heat wash over her and knew a question was being asked which would have to be answered very soon. She felt her arousal came mainly from what she was witnessing by the pool, but how was one to tell? And why was she being shown this? Mrs Armstrong was completely naked now and was getting down on her hands and knees on the lawn. It was obvious she had been made to do this many times before. Carla removed her sarong and dropped it on the ground. She was naked beneath. Wearing only the sombrero, she calmly straddled Mrs Armstrong's back and then, once firmly astride, she gripped the older woman's hair tightly with both hands Dr Mappamundi felt a powerful erotic charge run through her as she remembered how Mrs Armstrong had seduced her. Dr Mappamundi, fully aware of her own femininity and attractiveness, had been completely mastered in bed by the older woman and required to serve her sexual needs without respite. She had done this tirelessly, her senses inflamed by the older woman's sexual demands, her own shamefully submissive desires relentlessly exposed. Yet within a week she had been humiliatingly ejected from Mrs Armstrong's bed. And now this proud woman was reduced to being a mount for Emily's servant. The huge shadow of the sombrero almost completely covered Carla and the straddled woman beneath her, but as the shadow moved, Dr Mappamundi could see the heavy black bush between the naked rider's legs as she guided her mount from the lawn onto the tiles with her heavy thighs. Mrs Armstrong was obviously finding the tiles painful under her knees and had slowed almost to a stop, but Carla drove her on pitilessly with resounding slaps to the buttocks. Every faint protest from Mrs Armstrong was answered with a slap from her powerfully built rider who now, legs stretched forward and heels resting on the tiles, was forcing her mount to pick up the neglected towel with her teeth.

Dr Mappamundi watched Mrs Armstrong try to turn back, the towel gripped between her teeth and trailing along the ground, Carla's heavy white buttocks still firmly controlling her, then the older woman could go no further and, under a torrent of abuse from Carla, slid forward to lie face downward on the tiles, the implacable Carla still sitting astride her. Dr Mappamundi had turned to snuggle deeply into Emily's arms. Emily now quite boldly forced her tongue into her friend's mouth, pushing it right back as far as her throat, almost making her gag. I'm not going to say "no" Dr Mappamundi thought, as she felt Emily's hand on her thigh. But did I decide that now, or when I first came in? This girl needs me, Dr Mappamundi told herself, but also remembered the possibly subjectivistic theories (according to some interpretations) of Kant and Hobbes. "This is good" can be analysed into "I desire this." Are ethical judgements always about the psychology of the person who utters them? How was she going to arrange the time to continue Emily's studies in philosophy? They stopped for a moment to look down at the pool where an impatient Carla was dragging Mrs Armstrong, legs first, from the tiles onto the grass. Impatiently Emily began to pull off Dr Mappamundi's jacket then embraced her again and started opening her blouse, plunging her arms around her slender waist and unhooking her bra. Stopping for a moment, she buried her face in Dr Mappamundi's neck.

"Ever since…I saw you," Emily panted, "in bed with Mother…and you told me about it…"

"Oh, Emily," Dr Mappamundi moaned.

"I swore…I swore I was going to take her place," Emily said thickly, beginning to undo her dress.

Carla had dragged Mrs Armstrong onto the rug near the pool and, turning her on her back, had mounted her.. Bush to bush, the older woman was moaning under the powerful friction from the muscular young woman on top of her.