The House of Lesslie Ch. 02

"Show how much my mother is worth to you," I snapped at Caroline. "How much more you love me for giving you what you crave! What you need! Show me that you are worthy of that attention!"

I stepped over to the squatting Irish girl, still not changing her position, although her thighs and calves had to be killing her by now, all of her body aching for that release, that pain turning to pleasure, surging through her insides and making her lose control, finally. This is what I wanted James to see. What I wanted him to hear.

"Defile her for me, darling," I said to Caroline.

And there it happened. That loss of control culminating in her cunt releasing it first, a gushing, honey colored stream of piss that squirted with full force on the expensive rug as she pissed on those who had never seen her as anything but a piss whore, as somebody worthy only to give glasses full of herself, but never worthy of more.

Good! I smiled to myself.

"Piss on her, Caroline," I said and lifted her chin up with my gloved hand, made her gaze into my eyes, filled with loving cruelty I was willing to share, to teach, to give and receive. "Piss on that filthy whore who has stopped you from becoming!"

"Mistress!" gasped James behind us, shocked by such a display of dishonoring the past and its legacy. I laughed. I laughed louder and harder than ever before. This was mine now, and Caroline's hot, gushing stream of golden piss washed away those memories of the past, flooding it with the depravities of the future.

"Shit!" Caroline screamed as the rest of her body felt the loss of control, and there I saw it, the same spark I had seen every now and then in other women's faces, that cruelty, now no longer buried and locked deep inside their souls, but free to roam. She became worthy of being a companion to me, more than a pet, but a bitch in her own right.

"Shit!" she shouted. "Oh god! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Don't hold back!" I said, my eyes gleaming, my face beaming with joy.

And from her already filthy shit hole, it emerged, proper and slowly, with each new grunt.

A darkened thing, hard and like a thick black cock that slowly snaked its way out of her inside, out of her guts and forming a long turd that slowly dripped out of her.

It hung there, with Caroline's ass muscles clamping down on it, not quite ready to release it, her anal cunt squeezing it with all of its might as a long, violent cum started to shake her body, as her belly and pussy were burning with its might.

An obscene cock of shit that was briefly sucked back into her already shaking and shivering body, the scream now completely turned into an outburst of cruel pleasure, a display given for her and me. I smeared some of her earlier shit across her face and kissed it from her white flesh.

"Shit! Shit! Shit" she screamed and released her tight grip on the shit cock that dropped onto the carpet, her final throes of her orgasm making her lose control of her calves and thighs.

Panting, she dropped on her knees in front of me.

Her ass touching the brown, beautiful mess she had made on mother's carpet, squashing it with her squirming butt cunt, reveling in its warmth as she purposefully spread its stain on the rug.

"Thank you," she panted. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"It was nothing, my sweet Caroline," I whispered to her.

I lied, of course. It was everything. I lifted her up, gently, and pulled her close, the aftershocks of such a violent cum still holding her body in its grip, one wave after another, each one a little less intense than the one prior.

Until she cried in my arms, tears of joy and exhaustion. I knelt down in front of her and held her tight, my hands running through that red waterfall of hair, now matted and sweaty, little curls that fell into her face as she cried on my shoulder.

I lifted her up with my, made her rise.

Made her my companion.

The soft flakes of her rich, warm and earthy shit dropped from her thighs down to the ground, further soiling my own past and giving way to a new beginning.

This is what I had wanted James to see.

The black mass of muscles that stood behind us was quiet, marveling at such a display, but knowing that he had seen nothing yet. Oh, yes, I wanted to prove it to him. That I not only was an heir to his lover and mistress, that not only this mansion and all of its deviance was my birthright, but that I would lead it to a darker future than thought possible.

That would be my legacy, then, I thought, amused.

"Clean it up, James," I told him as I led a very naked and very satisfied Caroline past him, briefly giving my attention to his hardened cock that strained against the insides of his uniform's pants.

"You can use the male toilet slaves to do it," I told him as we stopped at his side, my smile ever crueler than before while I stroked Caroline's cheek.

"Unless, of course," I whispered to him, "you would like to do the duties yourself."

My laughter followed me out of the office, only looking back once to see James kneeling on the rug, his body on all fours, sniffing at the gooey goodness Caroline and I had left on mother's Persian monstrosity, a heap of cum spray, piss and shit that was evidence of the fact that a new monster had taken hold of all things here.

And that monster was me.

James began to scoop it up. And smeared it on his black, fleshy face, trying to worship me in the only way I allowed him for the time being. I laughed at him. His lips parted, his tongue slipped out to catch that taste, to swallow it up and digest it.

I laughed. And so did Caroline.

I would change her.

I would transform her.

And I looked forward to it.

III.

It had not taken too long, that change.

Some require months of training, some will never outgrow their station in life, but Caroline had been a quick study. A student of such wicked delights that it surprised even me. There had been others before her, of course, and there surely would be others after, but in all of my travels, only one had come even close to the levels of debauchery sweet, sweet Caroline seemed to be capable of.

And I tried to not think about that one too much.

IV.

I woke up again. Still sleepy and content, but now also more fully aware of my surroundings. Had it only been weeks? It felt longer, that time, and each new day, although filled with depravity and decadence, also had given me more than my fair share of work as I had begun to tighten the reigns in and outside the mansion.

Thankfully, I didn't have to do it alone.

She was the end of the bed, curled up like a sleeping cat, that companion I had chosen to change, to transform. And how much she had changed! How beautifully filthy she had become! Around her neck was a steel collar, spiked metal that would prick her delicate throat at the slightest touch, that would signal my desire for her at the slightest tug on the steel that led from her collar to my hand, chain links wrapped around my fingers, even in sleep, never letting her go.

The darkened bedroom made her shape a shadow among others, but knowing that she was there filled my mind and heart with perverted pleasure.

Oh, yes. How much she had changed!

V.

It had begun with a shopping trip, as all women know. What else?

It is shopping that fashions us, makes us, allows us to be who were are, deep inside, giving an expression to our souls, shaped in clothes and ornaments and accessories.

And so, with a trip down to London I began the transformation of Caroline.

It was on my second day with her when I had told her. What we would do that day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Her skin was a canvas, her soul a diamond in the rough, waiting for me to be shaped and given form.

"Am I not pleasing enough for you, Mistress?" Caroline asked.

"You are a pleasure, my darling," I said. "But not pleasing. Not as much as you can be. And not nearly as much as you will be."

Caroline raised an eyebrow, not quite following.

But she would know, soon enough.

"Besides," I told her. "You have outgrown that maid uniform now, haven't you?"

She beamed, proudly.

"Yes, Mistress."

"See?" I said. "And that means you will need new clothes. And, oh well, a new everything, really."

"Will you change me, Mistress?"

"I will, my darling."

"Change me into what?"

I laughed softly.

"Anything I wish you to be, my darling."

I called up James to arrange for everything. He knew the right places, had dealt with the right people. Experience was a commodity not easily traded, I thought. One of those days, and soon, I would have to express my gratitude, for oh so many things, but that day I wanted to celebrate and cherish.

And so I left it there, alone, in some darkened future, for me to arrive later.

It also pleased me to make him wait. And suffer. And anger him every now and then, for that would make that day so much better, perhaps even painfully so.

After an hour, numerous phone calls and some threats to the lives and wellbeing of various business partners' families, all had been put into motion, he informed me with his dark, somewhat disappointed sounding timbre.

"I have booked you and... your pet the penthouse suite at the Carlton," he said. "All things you have asked for have been delivered, Mistress."

"Thanks, dear," I said, giving him just enough of my attention to make him feel that it would never be enough, that he would never be to me what he had been to mother.

Outside, the Rolls was waiting for us, and in it, the driver who had picked me up from the airport yesterday. Andrew, his name was. Andrew Stanton. Andy, to his friends, he would later tell me.

He was waiting at the side of the car, its doors already opened, a warm, moving cage for an early winter's journey, and most appreciated.

It had gotten colder. Had yesterday been covered with frost but still remembering the days of summer's glory, dying far too slowly, this morning was a promise for a harshness that would soon take a hold in all of England. It was a strict mistress, England's weather was, and I greeted it as my sister, kissing the air with my breath, gifting it my body's warmth as sacrifice, in exchange for a biting cold that filled me and my soul.

"Did I anger Master James, Mistress?" Caroline asked behind me.

"He is not your master, darling," I told her, without turning around. "None of those here in the mansion will have any kind of control over you anymore. None but me and only me."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"But yes," I said. "You have angered him."

"Why, Mistress?"

"You are a sign of things to come, darling."

"A sign?"

"It's why I chose you. Now, hush. Get in the car."

Andrew helped her into the back of the Rolls, nodding and bowing down to her after having listened intently to our conversation. I followed, not needing any help of his and releasing him from that particular duty by a nod of my own.

Inside, Caroline had spread her body onto the back of the couch-like seats, a child of joy, exploring the surroundings, the little bar and its crystal glasses, having never partaken in this kind of luxury before.

"Do you like?" I asked her.

"Oh, Mistress," she beamed. "I love!"

"Good. After all, you'll be here with me for the next three hours, until we reach London. Could have taken the helicopter, of course, us. But here is lesson one. If it is worth doing, darling, then it is worth doing in style."

Caroline nodded, slowly.

"And being holed up for half an hour in the back of a helicopter," I added, "is hardly a proper means of transportation for a bitch goddess, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"And I am sure we will find ways to pass the time, you and me."

I winked and turned my attention to Andrew.

"Drive," I said.

Three hours. That was a good, long drive.

And plenty of things to do to pass the time.

"As for James," I said, loudly enough to ensure the driver would be able to follow, "he is angered and jealous, yes, but I am sure he will find somebody else to take it out on. Isn't that right, Andrew?"

"Mistress?" came the reply from the front of the car.

"Didn't I tell you yesterday, Andrew?" I laughed. "That I would want to hear all about it? We have three hours, her and me. And I am sure you have a delightful story to tell how you became a faggot whore for nigger cock."

Caroline's eyes widened as she heard this.

"Oh, come now, darling," I said. "You must have known that James loves to fuck filthy ass cunts, and that he likes to indulge himself almost as much as I do."

I let my hand slide into the cigar box next to the bar in the Rolls' back, crushing the tobacco leafs slowly between my fingers as I rolled it back and between them.

"Entertain us, Andrew," I said, finding the lighter and letting its flame flicker around the cigar's tip, greedily sucking in the first fresh wave of smoke.

"Yes!" Caroline exclaimed excitedly. "Entertain us!"

I had dressed appropriately, of course, and by that I mean that I had dressed in such a fashion that would allow me and Caroline to have easy access to the most precious of her and my belongings. I had chosen a strict pencil skirt that hugged my thighs tightly, with a black leather corset, thickened and tightened by an array of metal buckles that made breathing delightfully hard to do, with my breasts spilling over its trim and into a simple white blouse.

On my head, carefully positioned, a fur hat with a lace veil that covered my eyes and let me see the world in front of me through a dozen beautifully structured bars, immediately reminding myself of the fact that we all - in our own little ways - were prisoners of some sort, and that thought made my girl cock harden with joy.

I slid up my pencil skirt to reveal it to the others in the luxurious car, just as we passed through the main gates and left for the motorway.

It rose up from the darkened hole between my legs, a white snake searching for something to play with, only to be met by the strong grip of my own hand, pulling it forward further and revealing its head, a monstrous shape that crept from its protective skin and blindly surveyed the world around it, its fangs my steel piercing that tingled as the skin left it free and open.

It wasn't hard. Not yet.

"There is nobody in this car," I said between drags off my cigar, a dragon's smelly, filthy breath coming from deep within me, "who doesn't love cocks. Isn't that right, Andrew?"

"Yes, Mistress," came his reply.

"And if you entertain us well enough," I said, "you might even get a raise out of it."

That laughter, cruel and confident, now came from Caroline. Yes! It was of her own depravity, of her own making, that cruelty that would humiliate others now.

"A raise out of your Mistress's cock," she said. "What could be an incentive better than that, for a faggot whore like you?"

I had dressed her as well, in more simple clothes, not yet ready to accept the glamour I soon would gift her. She did adhere to the dress code of my liking, though, her hands covered by short leather gloves, a shirt of the deepest black, with a black tie and matching black pants. I had ordered her to slick back her hair, which was now shaped in a 1930s style, still too long for my tastes, but giving her a more androgynous look.

Her hands reached out to my cock and were wrapped around my own, working it with slow, easy strokes that made me moan as my lips clamped down on the cigar between my lips.

"Was this what you did to him?" she asked cruelly. "Did you have your hands around his fat nigger cock?"

In the front of the Rolls, watching our lewd display through the car's rearview, Andrew squirmed and blushed slightly, although it was not clear whether it was from being embarrassed or aroused. Whatever it was, it sure made him uncomfortable, I thought giddily.

"Answer her!" I snarled at him.

"Or did you do this?" Caroline asked, before she leaned down and slipped the mouth between her stroking fingers, sliding it across the piercing that divided my piss slit, wetting it with the tip of her longue. I hadn't cleaned it. It stank of filth and raunch and my morning piss.

"Mmmmh", moaned Caroline. "Cocks are best when they're filthy, aren't they? Wouldn't want to suck a dick that has been cleaned, myself."

"Answer her, faggot!" I snarled at Andrew again.

"Yes –" whispered Andrew. "He made me suck his filthy cock, Mistress."

"Tell us," I demanded.

I myself had been witness to James' animalistic appetites, once having him watched with mother, but I had never seen how he treated the male filth. Something, I thought as Caroline's tongue started to drip fat globs of spit on my hardened girl cock, I would have to put on my bucket list.

Each of my moans made me clamp down harder on my cigar, each breath took in more smoke that burned down in my body.

"Tell us exactly how you have become a nigger cock worshipping faggot, bitch."

VI.

"I was unemployed, Mistress," Andrew said, swallowing his pride as he began his story. "Half a year, nothing in sight. You know how it is, these days."

I laughed harshly.

"Can't say I do, whore," I snarled. "Continue."

Sweet Caroline took it as a sign that her cock sucking was pleasing to me, and it was, it was experienced and possessed the right level of harshness, alternating between slow tongue-washing and allowing herself to have my thickened clit disappear deeply into her throat. I pushed her head down further on my engorged, pierced shaft, a throaty sound escaping my own throat that rattled through my teeth.

But the order was given to Andrew, who spoke in hushed, embarrassed tones.

"I had no choice," he said.

"We all have a choice, whore," I said, before adding to Caroline, "Isn't that right, my darling bitch?"

"Mmmh," mumbled Caroline, my cock in her mouth allowing nothing more, but the vigor of her sucking increased.

"Good bitch," I told her. "Good bitch, yes, bathe my cock in your fucking mouth, bite down on it, you filthy whore, yes, give your mistress some fucking pain!"

Caroline moved her head back, let my cock slide out of her throat, cupped by her tongue and grasped the pierced crown with her teeth, biting down on hard metal and slowly moving back her head, stretching my piss hole. Electric shocks of decadent pain shot through my shaft.

"Yessss!" I hissed. "Give it to me, bitch! Show that you understand fucking cruelty! Fuck, yes! Harder! Pull on it harder!"

In the front of the car, Andrew swallowed.

"You wish you were here, don't you, faggot? To worship a cock with your mouth, that's why you came into my employ! To feel it fill your worthless cunt mouth, fill it with my spray of piss and cum, right?"

"Yes," came a whispered reply.

"I knew it!" I snarled. "Once you've had cock, you want it all the fucking time! Especially if your first taste of it was big and black, and packs a gallon of cock milk, right? Did he flood your mouth, my darling James, did he make you choke on his thick black cock milk?"

We had in the meantime reached the motorway, and Andrew, somewhat preoccupied with what was going on behind his back, still managed to drive the Rolls at a leisurely pace, I had to give him that. Seeing his eyes in the rearview glazing over with lust, I wasn't sure I would have been able to do that.

"Did he stretch your filthy shit cunt, whore?" I demanded to know. "Did he make it loose and filled it up with himself, so deep that you thought your bowels would burst?"

"Yes... Mistress," Andrew replied.

"Must be hard," I said, knowing that the mere memory of this experience had made him exactly that, "to come back to the wife after that?"

In my lap, Caroline stopped worshipping my cock, opening her mouth in disbelief, little strings of my cock juice and her saliva pouring down from her lips.