Foster Daughter Ch. 03

I watched her intently, marveling at how beautifully her body shook and quaked against Rachacael's slams. I found myself wishing that my own body had more excess that could jiggle responsively to our mistress's activity; the leanness of my mature body seemed sensually inadequate in comparison.

It was in that moment, in which I found myself envying Adriana's fatness, that I heard her cry out in pleasure and saw her legs convulse and kick up, and knew that she was coming. That sight caused my own second orgasm to sweep up over me, and I squealed and writhed on the couch underneath her, locking almost-unseeing eyes with Rachacael, who grinned broadly at the fact that she had successfully triggered both of our orgasms at once.

In the afterglow, as Rachacael allowed me to suck and lick Adriana's juices from the rubber cock, she said to Adriana, who still lay, puffing with exertion, half on and half off the couch,

"You'll want to make those calls now, Adriana-slut."

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael," said Adriana with another big exhale, and righted herself with an effort. She shambled off, walking with a slight limp, back toward Craig's office. After a few minutes, I heard her speaking in her most professional voice again, asking for a Mr. Álvarez.

Rachacael turned to me.

"I am not going to ask your permission about anything that will happen tomorrow," she said. "But you should know, so you are prepared. You will see Craig again."

I nodded slowly. I had almost forgotten about Craig. Thirty-six -- no, thirty-eight, with my mistress's and Adriana's -- pussies had driven him out of my mind.

"You are not to speak to him unless I tell you to," she said. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael."

"You are not to touch him under any circumstances. You may feel pity for him or want to help him. You are not allowed to. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael."

"Do you consider yourself still married to him?"

I wrinkled my nose, trying to think.

"I suppose, legally, I still am," I said. "But I can't be. Not in any way that means anything. Not after this."

"Good girl," said Rachacael. I felt myself gush again at the words, and wondered if I would ever get used to them. I hoped not.

"You may see and hear some upsetting things tomorrow," said Rachacael. "I want you to be present for all of it, but I will allow you a safe word."

I blinked at her.

"A safe word?"

"If you feel unsafe, if you think something is happening that is outside of what you truly want to happen, you can say the word and I will make it stop."

I looked at her.

"Will everything that happens be what you want to happen?"

She laughed. "I can't guarantee against acts of God," she said, "But I expect to be in control throughout, yes."

"Then I will want it too," I said.

She smiled more tenderly than I had ever seen her smile before.

"That's a very good answer to your mistress. I'm still giving you the safe word. If something is happening that you want to stop, say "avocado" and it will stop. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael. Avocado. I'll remember." As her eyebrows raised tauntingly, I added quickly, "That wasn't me saying I wanted anything to stop, just confirming."

"I know," she said. "I love how much of a dumb slut you are."

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael," I said, hanging my head with a smile. I loved being her dumb slut. All the anger I had always felt at anyone underestimating my intellectual capacity because I was a woman was gone with her; she wanted me to be a dumb slut, so I was.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was inconsequential, at least as far as my duties and activities went; after eating a dinner that I insisted on making this time, the three of us went to bed: Adriana to her home, promising to see us bright and early in the morning, Rachacael taking her place in the master bedroom for the first time, and me in the smaller bedroom that had been hers. I buried myself in the bedsheets, trying to smell her scent on them, and had a very hard time not touching myself just thinking about sleeping in the sheets that she had used for the past three years.

Mistress Rachacael woke me at seven on Tuesday morning; I slipped out of bed and onto my knees before her. She smiled at that and said I should crawl for the rest of the day. I obeyed, feeling capable of doing anything in order to get another one of those smiles.

She had me shower and apply moisturizer so that I would be at my freshest when Craig arrived. She fed me breakfast, served on the floor, and I ate it crouched on all fours like a dog or cat. She had me call her school, and tell the office that she would be out sick for the day. Then she led me to the family room, had me kneel down on the carpet, and told me to wait.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly while I waited; occasionally I caught a glimpse of her moving back and forth in the house, first in her comfortable outfit of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and then, gloriously, in nothing but her flawless naked brown flesh. I trembled as I saw her naked once more, and felt my mouth water; I had to swallow more than once.

Finally, after more time had passed than seemed possible, Adriana came in. I could hear her better than I could see her -- the family room didn't quite look directly out to the entrance -- but she appeared to still remain dressed, and Rachacael did not bring her in to kneel beside me. The two of them remained in the front of the house, talking quietly.

At length I heard a ping on a phone, and Adriana said something like, "they're here," and then I heard the front door open again.

My mistress entered the family room with a cool, measured stride, paid absolutely not one speck of attention to me, and turned to sit firmly in the big recliner that had been Craig's. As she did, two tall, broad men with loose clothing, a lot of tattoos, and no hair on their heads, carried in a sturdy chair, to which my husband Craig was bound, with a thick gag repressing any speech he might want to make. He looked furious, and his eyes bugged out hard when he saw me kneeling naked on the carpet. Adriana brought up the rear, pointed out where the men should deposit Craig and his chair, and then saw them back out.

Rachacael remained looking at Craig, a half-smile on her face. Adriana returned, glanced at me, read the bewilderment in my eyes, and said,

"Thing about being a social worker in this city is, you get to know some young men who will do you a favor."

Rachacael pursed her lips at that, still smiling, and said,

"That's enough. Clothes off now, Adriana-slut."

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael." And Adriana removed her clothes and folded them in a neat pile next to the couch, still standing just behind Craig.

"Now here we all are," said Rachacael, nodding to me but still watching Craig, who was breathing hard through his nose and glowering at her in an outraged, incredulous, and (I thought, though I couldn't be sure) slightly lustful way.

"I'm sure you're wondering what's going on," she continued "It's very simple. I am in charge now. Isn't that right, mommy-slut?"

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael," I said instantly. Craig wrestled hard against his bonds, and tried to shout something, but Rachacael only laughed at him mockingly.

"It's true," she said. "The worst has happened. You took me into your home and now I have taken your home away from you. Your wife belongs to me. The social worker monitoring how you treat me belongs to me too. Did you enjoy the ride from the airport? It wasn't too uncomfortable, in the back of that van? I hope you didn't try to fight back too hard when they came for you. I told them to be gentle, but you know how it is when you're not there to supervise."

She smiled broadly at Craig, finding it very funny that his baffled rage at her words could find no outlet, and he was limited to mumbling something unintelligible against the gag.

"I see you don't believe me," she said. "It's time for a demonstration of just how in charge I am. Mommy-slut!"

I looked at her expectantly.

"Come here," she said, "and show him how you worship me with your tongue."

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

"Get her," said Rachacael briefly, and I leaped to my feet. Patricia Kolicki saw me move, and backed away tentatively at first, and then, once she saw the look in my eyes, tried to turn and run. But I was faster, and she didn't know the house as well as I did, and my Pilates and Tae Bo had not left me incapable of subduing an older woman, and I quickly returned, marching her in front of me, one arm twisted around her back.

"This is an outrage," she was saying. "Take your hands off of me at once, Karen Kolicki. You ought to be ashamed of yourself----"

She cut off in surprise at being smacked across the face by Rachacael, who then took her jaw in her hand, steadied her gaze, and said very gently,

"Hello, grandma."

I couldn't see Patricia's face, because I was still holding her in place from behind, but her head worked soundlessly for a moment, and then she said,

"What vile thing are you doing, you little pickaninny? Untie my son at once!"

Rachacael laughed softly.

"Oh, Craigie hasn't earned being untied yet," she said. "But I think you can help him see reason."

Patricia snorted.

"What I see is a pack of wild animals that have broken in and attacked my son. I don't know what you did to my daughter-in-law, but she's an animal like the rest of you now."

Rachacael put up her chin and studied my mother-in-law closely.

"You want to be an animal too?" she said.

Patricia trembled.

"Take your filthy hands off of me," she said, her voice quivering in anger.

"Answer my question. Do you want to be an animal? Do you want to join your daughter-in-law?"

"How dare you ask----"

"Yes or no!" shouted Rachacael suddenly, and even I jumped at the authority in her tone.

"No," whimpered Patricia. "Please. Please let me go."

"Mommy-slut," said Rachacael. "Let her go."

I obeyed, and took a step back, but still watched Rachacael closely. She nodded approvingly at me over Patricia's shoulder, still holding her face in one hand.

"If you want to walk out of here," she said, speaking slowly and distinctly, "you may do so. But I am going to give you a parting gift first."

Patricia tried to shake her head, but finding that Rachacel's grip made that hard, said in a shaky voice,

"That -- that won't be necessary."

"Oh," said Rachacael blandly, "I insist."

She held up two fingers of the hand that was not holding Patricia's face, and then slowly brought them down her body until they were in front of her crotch. She worked them between her dark brown pussy lips, pushing deep, maintaining eye contact with Patricia the entire time. When she brought them up again, they were coated with her slick wetness, glittering in the light.

"No," said Patricia again. "Please." Her voice was husky.

"Open your mouth," said Rachacael, and squeezed her hand on the older woman's jaw, forcing her lips apart, and then thrust her fingers into her mouth, deep in, twirling them gently around her tongue.

Patricia gasped and choked, and whined, but when at last Rachacael withdrew her fingers, Patricia was sucking on them.

"I will ask you again," said Rachacael. "Do you want to join your daughter-in-law?"

Patricia tried to glance uneasily back toward me.

"What would that -- uh, I mean, I couldn't commit myself at the moment to anything----"

Rachacael laughed, and stepped backward, still gripping the older woman's face in her hand so that she had to follow her. Finally she sat back down in the recliner and spread her legs wide, bringing Patricia to her knees in the same motion, then released her grip.

"Eat me," she said simply. "There's much more where that came from."

Craig was trying to scream something now through the gag. Neither Rachacael nor Patricia paid him any attention, only stared into each other's eyes.

"You are a devil," said Patricia.

Rachacael made no response, only kept her legs spread.

"If this is what I must do to rescue my son from whatever insane, evil entanglement he seems to have gotten himself into," said Patricia, and leaned forward and began to lick Rachacael's pussy.

Craig sobbed in horror and revulsion, and twisted his face so that he couldn't watch. Adriana stood up and adjusted his chair so that his face was pointed toward them again. After he tried to turn again and was turned again instead, he finally contented himself with simply screwing his eyes shut.

"Oh, Craigie," called out Rachacael in a sing-song voice. "Your mother is so much better at this than your wife was at the start. Some deep dark secret in your past, grandma? It's all right, I'm sure Craigie forgives you."

"Shut up, you vixen," mumbled Patricia, her mouth buried in Rachacael's velveteen folds.

"Wrong," said Rachacal, suddenly gripping Patricia's hair by the roots and pulling her face away from her crotch. She stared down into the older woman's upturned face, her makeup already worn away, her mouth frozen in surprise and wet with my mistress's copious dew.

"You don't give orders," said Rachacael. "Not anymore. I do. Understood?"

Patricia nodded, her eyes flicking back to the open vulva she had just been ripped from.

"What do you say?"

"Yes," said Patricia.

"Yes, what?"

Patricia squirmed, either unable to remember or refusing to say it.

Rachacael looked up at where Adriana and I stood, watching them.

"What does she say, sluts?"

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael," we said in unison.

"What do you say?" Rachacael repeated, in the tone of someone giving her one last chance.

"Yes, mtrss rkshl," Patricia mumbled sulkily, in the quietest voice she possessed.

"Try again. Or walk out that door a free woman and never see any of us except your son again."

There was a long pause.

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael," said Patricia very distinctly.

"Good girl," said Rachacael and plunged Patricia's silver-haired head back into her waiting brown loins.

I felt myself growing hot as I watched -- the sight of my mother-in-law, in the typically put-together outfit she had worn to greet her son (and presumably to worm out any gossip about what had happened over the weekend), eagerly submitting to my one-time foster daughter, was almost too much to bear, and I glanced at Adriana, and saw the same look of deep lust on her face. I think we were both wondering what Patricia tasted like, and which of us would get to find out first.

Rachacael's eyes, already half-hooded with lust as she ground slowly into my mother-in-law's mouth, found mine over Patricia's bobbing head.

"Mommy-slut," she said huskily. "Adriana-slut. Come over here.

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael," we responded, moving toward her, ignoring Craig as he twisted and shouted hoarsely in his bonds.

"Stand on either side of her," said Rachacael, pulling the skin above her pussy taut so that her pearly clit peeped out. "Don't touch her, but I want you to start rubbing yourselves. Watch me. You will come when I tell you to."

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael," we both murmured. Adriana squeezed between where Patricia knelt and the end of the couch; I stood on the other side of Patricia, my back to the television. Both of us began rubbing our pussies, and we couldn't help moaning slightly at the sensation. It had been so long since our mistress allowed us the privilege of touching ourselves, and although I had recently made Adriana come, I hadn't come since she'd eaten me out while being fucked by Rachacael with her own strap-on the day before. As my fingers slipped easily between my lips and started curling against my sensitive nubbin, I felt sure that it would be harder to stop from coming too early than to get excited quickly enough to come on command.

My skin felt like it was alive with millions of tiny flames as I watched my mother-in-law's thin lips, which I had seen so often pressed together in an attitude of haughty judgment, slurp and smack on the warm brown wetness of my one-time foster daughter who I was proud to call my mistress, my owner. I felt oddly proud as I stood there in the family room that Craig and I had furnished twenty years ago, masturbating frenziedly across from the panting, heaving mass that was Adriana doing the same -- proud, in some unaccountable, incalculable way, that my decision to take in a foster child (because Craig would certainly have never pursued it if I hadn't brought it up many times over the years) had led us all to this moment. I envied Patricia the tastes and other oral sensations she was experiencing in that moment, but more than that I was sincerely glad for her, glad that she got to experience the greatest thing in the world and have her life unalterably changed by it.

My eyes started to unfocus as I could feel the orgasm beginning to swim up inside of me; in order to delay it, I turned my head and looked at Craig.

He was staring at us fixedly, his face almost purple with rage and strain. He met my eyes and made a snarling sound of contempt and fury that told me that in that moment, in that mood, he would have killed me if he was capable of doing so.

I blanched and heard my mistress speak.

"Mommy-slut," she said, her voice ragged with effort as she pushed through her own rising orgasm to communicate. "Eyes on me. He is nothing to you anymore."

"Yes, Mistress Rachacael," I said numbly, turning my head again. The sight of her almost brought tears to my eyes. She was gripping the arms of the chair now and bucking hard and intensely into the slobbering, lapping mouth of my mother-in-law, and her taut abdominal muscles working underneath her sweat-slicked brown skin sent an early lurch into my loins. I gasped aloud and slowed my fingering, waiting for her.

"Please, mistress," I heard Adriana pant. "We're so close."

"Not yet," gasped Rachacael through gritted teeth. "Not yet."

She cupped one hand behind Patricia's head and pulled her hard against her; Patricia's entire body went rigid as Rachacael used her face as a masturbation tool. And then, finally, the blessed moment arrived and I got to watch my mistress come once more. It was a precious sight, one that I will remember always, as the daylight streamed in over her glowing naked body and her eyes rolled back in her head and her lips opened in an ecstatic grimace, so wide that I could see the adorable pink flesh of her gums.

Adriana and I gasped and quivered, silently begging her to let us come as she luxuriated through aftershock after aftershock, pushing Patricia away at last.

"Sit up, grandma-slut," she said with a sigh.

Very deliberately, Patricia sat back on her haunches and raised her torso straight up, not taking her eyes off of Rachacael. Her face was a mask of stiffness, and it was impossible to say how she felt about what Rachacael had just called her.

"Now," breathed Rachacael with a sweet smile. "Add your cums to my cum on her face, my sluts."

"Oh, thank God," muttered Adriana, and took a step forward, pumping her fingers hard against herself inches from Patricia's face, before pulling back the fat of her pudenda quickly so that a spray of liquid streamed against Patricia's cheek. I gasped at the sight, and jostled up close to Patricia from the other side, my fingers roiling my clit in grateful frenzy; the orgasm exploded out of me, and I heard myself shriek, but had no sense of whether I had landed the excretions I knew were coming on the desired target. But when I finally opened my eyes, panting heavily, I saw a large wet streak on the side of Patricia's head, sticking her hair to her face as she continued to stare fixedly at Rachacael.

"You have been baptized by me and my sluts," said Rachacael softly. "Who do you serve?"

"You, Mistress Rachacael," said Patricia evenly, without a hint of emotion.