A Mother's painful Duty
Part 5
By Cate
F/F
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 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 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 - the Armstrong Trust that I've now 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 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 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 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 off her and to remove all traces of their lovemaking
before calling the ambulance. She had been terrified that her might
die while she delayed, but she'd put her 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 butler's pantry on the ground floor into a bedroom. I
put her in there, along with all those damned 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 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 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 doesn't like..."
Emily opened a walnut cabinet and selected a labelled videotape which
she slipped into a player under the television set in a corner of the
room. "Carla now has the bedroom downstairs and 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 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 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 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 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 woman and
required to serve her sexual needs without respite. She had done this
tirelessly, her senses inflamed by the 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 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 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 woman was
moaning under the powerful friction from the muscular woman on top of
her. "Aaaaaagh....aaaagh. aaaaaaaahgh." Feverishly Emily kicked off her
shoes and pulled off her and pantyhose and threw herself on the
bed. Dr Mappamundi, her adorable Grace was now kneeling on the floor with
her face between Emily's legs. And Emily was instructing her on how she
wanted her philosophy lessons. First, of course, there would have to be a
full revision of her previous course - seven years was a long time. She
had always adored Dr Mappamundi's voice in the lecture room, where nearly
all the and at least half of the women were in love with her, not just
her lectures but her delightful asides into her private life and opinions.
And now, not all of the time, to be sure, but all night, every night, she
would belong to Emily. "We'll start with Platonism and A...A...Oh God,
Aristotle," Emily gasped as Dr Mappamundi's tongue found her out and
entered her. "Thuh..uh doctrine of the muh...mean," Dr Mappamundi
spluttered, causing a delightful frisson in Emily's vagina. "Oh, Christ,
that's gug...gug...gorgeous," Emily shrieked, wiggling and trying to force
her pubic mound into her lover's devouring mouth. "Hedonism?" she
prompted. "The phhhhh...phhhilosophy," her lover responded, labially into
her mount of Venus, "the philosophy of Epp.p picurus." "Oh, God, I love
it," Emily moaned. "C... c...cynicism," spluttered Dr Mappamundi,
"Sssssstoicism." Emily bucked wildly and wound her legs around Dr
Mappamundi's neck, then threw back her head and screamed in a shattering
orgasm.
Later in bed, intimately wound together, the supremely feminine Dr
Mappamundi breathed into Emily's ear her favoured extracts from "On the
Improvement of the Understanding" by Spinoza, not forgetting to digress
from time to time on how she depilated her legs or where the sheerest
pantyhose could now be purchased. Then Emily, her healthy appetite whetted
again, gently eased her lover onto her back and mounted her. She smiled
down at the sweet face that gazed adoringly up at her, delighting her with
little pecking kisses. "And to think we haven't even got as far as Bentham
and Mill, or Kantian ethics," Emily breathed happily as she began to rock
gently at first on her adorable lover then with increasing and delicious
urgency.
The End.
|
|
