Appreciating Amanda Ch. 03

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Continuing the cunning, lingual education of Amanda.
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Part 3 of the 4 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 04/18/2009
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Continuing the cunning, lingual education of Amanda: floral 'adoral' and a 'De Vere' punishment.

*

Dear reader, if you have followed Amanda's tribulations thus far, you should know by now that I, Jane Player, love a real sense of ownership. The moment when my conquest gives in to their submissive libido is a very precise joy. Each connection is accompanied by such feelings of empowerment. I really cannot help but savour these instants for a very, long time indeed.

I will always remember the quizzical look in Amanda's eyes, pet, when she first realised that my overtures were more than those of a friendly and supportive neighbour. I recall chatting with Mrs De Vere, my predecessor at the college, about it over tea. I was very frank, telling her how my dear sweet eighteen year old Amanda turned to me one day in the garden and looked down at my hand.

I still smile to think of my pet-to-be watching, quite unresisting, as I slowly pulled the fabric of that lovely summer skirt up, to reveal that gorgeous thigh.

"Does your passion never rest, Jane?" Amanda sighed a little irritatedly, placing her hand on mine and holding me from any further advances there.

"No rest for the almost wicked?" I smiled, shrugging my shoulders as if to excuse myself.

"No rest for me at least," she said sorrowfully.

"Oh?"

"I can't remember the last time I slept through the night, Jane."

"Too many worries?"

"Something like that."

"Try to relax, pet. Come with me to the rose garden. There is no reason why you shouldn't enjoy my garden and flowers as much as you delight in your own."

I loved the almost childish way she took my hand as we walked across the stream dividing the two properties and the joyous look when you espied the rose garden. And joy is a thing to conjure with. I tell you that it doesn't always matter who it is who is giving themselves to me. I can internalise the joy they offer up.

I close my eyes. I hold my breath. And I reward them with my gush of pleasure regardless, once each darling slut has overcome her scruples and been properly trained to meet my exacting needs.

"I could spend hours here, Jane," Amanda said, sitting down on the grass by a bench.

"Mind you don't stain your skirt, dear. The grass is still a little damp."

"But the flowers are so beautiful."

"Then stay there, Amanda, but kneel up -- I don't want you to damage your clothing."

"Yes, Jane."

"Arch your back and splay your thighs."

"Like this?"

"Exactly: good girl."

She blushed.

"Position is important," I continued, "even when you are only worshipping flowers."

"I think I should like to worship flowers with you for ever, Jane."

"I think that I should like that too, sweetheart. What type would you worship most?"

"Right now -- these assorted roses are wonderful."

"I adore roses too, Amanda."

"I can see that."

"I love their diversity: the way they grow wild and are lovely potted too. And I love to pot the cuttings from the plants."

"Your trellises are simply wonderful, Jane."

"It takes a lot of effort to cultivate them, just as I want them to grow."

"You are cultivating me too, aren't you Jane?"

"Yes, dear."

She looked down at the grass, letting me reach out and stroke her hair.

"You need cultivating pet. And I want you to grow in my care."

"I want to grow too, Jane."

"Then don't resist my advances again."

"No, miss."

"Good girl. You will bloom like the roses under my care."

"Yes, miss."

"And what I do with my blooms is my affair."

"I've always wanted to lie on a bed of rose and magnolia pedals," Amanda giggled.

"Even a little thing like you would need quite a few roses; and magnolias too -- it's a good thing that I have plenty of both in my garden."

"Is it my lucky day, Jane?"

"Let me tell you about a lucky day, Amanda. Let me tell you how my former neighbour's unemployed daughter, Alexandra Kincaid, shares the submissive gene with her step-mother, Karen..."

"I love your stories, miss."

"I know pet. Now stroke my calf, while I tell you that where my predecessor at the college, Mrs De Vere, used to discipline the Kincaids (both step-mother and daughter and sometimes simultaneously), I seek to delight in the first and last instance.

It would be no exaggeration to say that Alexandra has entertained me on numerous occasions. And I would have to add the perverse thought that such entertainments took place in the very same garden where I previously, subsequently and, occasionally, simultaneously, enjoyed every aspect of her dear step-mother.

Having heard from Karen about her predilection for beating Alexandra's bottom, I felt even more obliged to guide Alex in the most appropriate way of conveying her maturing thoughts. She would write me the most delicious essays, even though her most demanding head of college had no real interest in such expression.

I would tell the then sweet eighteen year old to remember my fingers playing joyfully between her distended labia at moments of stress. The thought of such delectation would help her to manage any emotional outburst, as Mrs De Vere sadistically impressed her mark upon as only a recently promoted head of college could do.

After all: the mingling of pleasure and pain is a thing that all well-trained pets need to accustom themselves to. Control and constraint rarely come naturally or instinctively. Remembrance of past pleasures will ease the pain of the moment. The association of delight with a given situation can be refined until a pet is completely enslaved to the emotions and sensations that you have inculcated within her.

There are exploitative relationships that need to be moderated. I've since had three years to moderate Alexandra Kincaid. The first year was a time of slow weaning: letting Alex know that she had been noticed, but focussing almost entirely on Karen.

It would have been tempting to sit in on one of the disciplinary sessions that Karen had told me so much about, but 'softly, softly catchee monkey' as they say.

I was patient enough to content myself with hearing Karen's tales. She would kneel between my thighs and, between lickings and tastings, would tell me of the evenings earlier entertainments.

"Will you tell me more about the entertainments, Jane?" Amanda said to me that afternoon in the rose garden, stealing me away from my reverie. I looked across at her kneeling there, dutifully stroking my lower leg and smiled affectionately.

"But of course I will, Amanda pet; that is provided, of course, you can arrange something in exchange?"

"I'm sure daddy will part with some rare treasure, miss."

"Will he, pet?"

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

"If I give you enough blooms and enough tales, will he offer up his most precious treasure?"

"If the treasure is that valuable, perhaps you should offer up the entire crop, Jane."

"You want a cropping, too?"

"You wouldn't hurt me, would you, Miss Jane?"

"I will only hurt you as much as you need to be hurt. Punishment and pleasure are the yin and yang of surrender: the sunshine follows the rain. The smiles follow the tears, Amanda. My crop marks you mine. Which would you have, dear?"

"I should have it all, if it pleases you, dear Jane."

"It is good you have such a broad mind, Amanda..."

I remember saying the very same thing to Karen as she delighted in exciting me with the torrid particulars of how she had punished Alex with hand or hairbrush. She would sometimes detail how she had watched Mrs De Vere do the very same earlier in the evening. It was so nice of her to pop round to please me in her very neighbourly fashion.

I could empathise with Alexandra. And wince at the thought of all those punishments she seemed to suffer. That did not stop me from gushing over Karen's tongue as she flicked it deftly between my labia, embracing my clitoral button as if she would never relinquish it.

The second year led to a change in pace when Alex left college at nineteen and shortly afterwards lost her job at the local Do-It-Yourself store on the outskirts of Peddington. The reason for this dismissal was her having failed to indulge a certain Ms Mary Higgins.

I was able to empathise with the angry girl. I was also able to empathise with Higgins, who had been Alex's supervisor at that time. She is a forty five year old lady with greying hair, a large bust, a well rounded belly and somewhat rapacious attitudes as regards the younger members of her staff.

I do not automatically tolerate such one-sided relationships, but the temporary loss of freedom sustained by Alex through this relationship, held considerable opportunities for me.

As such, I was the one who spread cream across Alex's nubile form and pulled the sun protector over her eyes. I was also the guilty party who secured the knots that held Alex to the wooden sun-bed. And I was the one who had previously invited Mary to come round for tea by the lake.

Amanda, dear: do stop trying to read over my shoulder. Kneel back and close your eyes like a good pet now. Lick me gently. I will read aloud if you like, but I want you to feel me tremble and sense my delight at each recollection.

Can't you can almost taste Mary's delight as she watched the lake with me and sipped her tea. She admired the bathing and then bathed in bliss as Alex's clever, but unknowing tongue penetrated first her wrinkled vagina and then her middle-aged anus. The sweet, young tongue worked in such an unforgettable way that Mary was bound to become a regular at my little soirees.

"Some pleasures may be worth paying for," Amanda whispered, playfully tying a daisy chain around her thin neck and offering me the end.

How could I help, but smile? I took the end and pulled ever so gently, not wanting the chain between us to break ever: "I do so enjoy the beauty of flowers and you are the most beautiful of flowers, Amanda."

"Your enjoyment begins to be my main pleasure, Jane."

"And you will give me such perfect enjoyment. Magnolias may be soft and may adorn a room nicely, but they are not so beautiful without you there, settling on the petals. I can picture you, Amanda -- tell me; is your favourite color rose?"

"I like pink."

"I can never decide which colour I like best."

"Pink blooms; pink bloomers," Amanda smiled and flicked her skirt up wickedly to reveal the truth of that statement.

"Pink, rose petals it shall be then; with a hint of red to represent your nails -- a little contrast to intrigue me: and a little white to show off the pallor as I strip away your lovely clothes."

"I like white too."

"White petal, white blouse, red petal, red brassiere, pink petal, pink panties, and so on?"

"Yes miss. I am happy to be stripped to meet your agenda."

"And striped?"

"Well, you did offer me the crop, miss."

"I am too lazy to crop you today. I will dream of laying you back in all of these petals: so rich and so kissable. And you will accept all my kisses, won't you dear?"

"It is your due miss."

"And how is my dew, dear?"

"Your dew is perfect, miss," Amanda grinned and licked her lips.

"You are becoming such a decadent little thing..."

And talking of decadent, I have to say that Mary the manager (yes, dear, stifle that giggle like a good girl) also became a regular donator to my refurbishment fund. This wonderful couch is a tribute to the way I trained Alex to contain her revulsion at the woman's hairy maw, when the blindfold finally came off.

And, as you have read and heard, I have diarised every scandalous encounter from that first furtive kiss by the gate, as Alex tried to sneak back late through my garden well after her curfew. I have written reams about the slow seduction while Alex has responded gratifyingly by rimming me magnificently, during dalliances in the summer house that had lasted all afternoon, when her step-mother was away (on my instructions) visiting.

Alex is a wonderful kisser. I love the sensation of her now twenty-one year old mouth around my toes as she suckles me. She is the picture of dutiful obedience as my favourite blonde kneels there and I rest my legs on her thighs. Her hands are soft and her body is supple.

She has a real future in beauty therapy, once she finds a way to use this rather basic qualification other than pleasing me -- not that I'm objecting to that too strongly. She is not stupid by any means. She knows instinctively that I simply adore the way she is able to lean forward, curving her spine.

Alex is equally aware that by showing herself off as she works her way up each calf she pleases me enormously. The way that she manages to give the impression of kissing every inch of my leg, before planting her face right where her step-mother is wont to position her tongue (and probably did just a few hours previously) is almost unparalleled in my experience.

I believe my leaving the bedroom door ajar one night as I mounted Karen, doggie style and fucked her till she screamed out her orgasm was my "mistress-stroke" in that household. Alex knew me as her step-mother's close friend up to that point, but her look six months after our first introduction, when our eyes met was priceless.

When I saw her standing outside the door, her hands delving in her underwear, and I knew we were going to have a much closer relationship. Almost anyone would have smiled to see Alex's fingers playing so assiduously in her little mauve panties. I believe that her movements actually accelerated as her step mother was pressed down and made to lick both my pussy and a well-used strap-on clean that night.

There is no need for Alex ever to know that the reason for her step mother's almost explosive orgasm that night was almost certainly the words whispered in her ear. I have a descriptive streak and the ability to convey to a mother how her daughter is masturbating herself quite lasciviously outside her room clearly set off something in Karen.

Alex was too far off to hear the way I punctuated my erotic lullaby with the coarsest Anglo-Saxon phrases that I could think of, but she could certainly see how I spread her mother's sex as Karen knelt there before me, arse up.

As I looked across into Alexandra's slightly glazed eyes, I mimed licking all the way up that glistening maternal slit, smiling to myself as Alex's fingers accelerated. I was quite delighted that she was compelled to put a hand over her mouth as she trembled her way to bliss.

"Bliss, I begin to like that word," Amanda interrupted my monologue.

"It has such meaning for both of us," I agreed and let my hand caress her shoulder. "Although, on reflection, it may mean different things to different people; what does it mean to you Amanda?"

"It means that you surround me, miss, the aroma of petals mixing as you spread me."

"You would make new perfumes, pet?"

"If it would please you, miss. Yes I would."

"Your unmingled essence is more than enough, girl," I smiled and kissed her neck. "I find you so intriguing."

"Intriguing, miss?"

"Your flesh so sweet when you allow yourself to open up," I explained before my lips closed over her left nipple."

"There are always possibilities when you are about, Jane"

"The possibilities are those that you inspire in me," I whispered, my lips relinquishing their hold of her breast, before my tongue flicked at her, causing her to sigh gently.

"I feel an opening of petals may soon follow, miss."

"Follow your instincts, girl," I said, gently biting her nipple as I pulled it taut and let my nails graze Amanda's flesh as my hands slid over her.

"Yes, miss."

"You are so warm and inviting."

"Only as warm as your breathe, miss."

"And as inviting as your come hither," I smiled as my lips travelled down towards her tummy, kissing her chest and her belly, gently, my hands flexing against her thigh, sensing the arousal, perfuming her mound.

"I like the way time seems to slow down at these moments, miss."

"As do I pet," I agreed remembering how time slowed to allow me to become inordinately proud of my toying, which ensured that both Karen and Alex came together in a scream of mutual pleasure that might even have turned Mrs D from her one-tracked dead end approach to life...

"Oh?"

Quite evidently, Amanda, it wasn't long before that vicarious bedroom licking, became kissing sweet Alex at my gate. And kisses in such a context soon turn to fumbling and glorious finger fucking. Alex was even more submissively inclined than her mother and seemed to delight in the wickedest escapades that my naughty imagination could devise.

She spent many a summer-twilight bound and belly down on that same swing that you espied in my garden the first time you came here, pet. Her feet were sufficiently free to propel her forward so that she could please me with her ever-so active tongue.

I taught Alex how to fetch me things in her mouth, pet like and diligent: a hairbrush, a ping pong paddle, a little whip; she quickly learnt to roll over like a good girl when I felt inclined to spank her pussy; and she excelled at seeking out my need under my skirt, tugging down my panties with real élan. Her teeth delicately gripped the fabric as she tugged them downwards, before returning to pleasure her mistress.

I remember those wonderful picnics we had together. I would read to her improving texts as she ate from her bowl at my feet or lapped her water from a little stone fountain. That ornament was a little tacky, but I kept it since I'd had Karen purchase it for me in Mary's store. She got a wonderful discount, for Mary knew full well the use that I intended to put it too.

In time Alexandra became such a good little bitch, that I could not resist her request for a leash and collar on her nineteenth birthday, with a little silver pendant that spelt out my initials in studded pearls. The opportunities seemed limitless that glorious summer two years ago, as I alternated between step-mother and daughter, inching each of them forward in their own way.

"Did they pay tribute to you, miss?" Amanda murmured

"The soft movements of their bodies and their minds certainly helped in that direction."

"Yes miss."

"As do yours."

"Yes miss."

"I see from how your body moves all the soft slow waves that build."

"The thought of petals is slightly itchy - forgive the wriggles," Amanda teased and I teased forward, reaching over to spank her lightly.

"Sometimes you need someone to do more than tell you off for your naughtiness, Amanda."

"Yes miss. That's why I come to you."

"I can't dissemble crossness with you for long though. I get too much pleasure from letting my palm slide over your mound as I kiss you, gently pressing."

"Thank you, miss."

"For?"

"Your attentions are so soothing."

"That is my pleasure."

"That is your right."

"And it is my right to ensure that even the most reserved pet or hardened disciplinarian is turned given the opportunity..."

Mrs De Vere was no exception, Amanda. I first met the much talked of Gertrude De Vere at a soiree in the college. I was guest speaker at a prize giving ceremony where several senior staff members were to be presented with gifts for service to the college.

It was not a big affair but there were several distinguished guests. Gertrude had charged her star student, one Alexandra Kincaid, with ensuring the arrangements for the prize-giving were absolutely spot-on. I arrived early and, unobserved, managed, by slight of hand, to conceal one of the prizes. Gertrude's fury at this disruption to such a significant event had to be seen to be believed. She stalked the corridors of her college until she came upon the hapless Alexandra. The trembling girl was brusquely escorted to Gertrude's study to await her fate, tearful, contrite and confused. Meanwhile the ceremony proceeded as planned, apologies having been made to the pedagogue deprived of her prize that evening.

12