Generous Natures Pt. 02

Jasmine wrapped a hand around Tasha's waist, closing what little distance remained between them. "How about I make you feel as good as you made me feel?" Her voice was deep and sultry. She knew exactly what Tasha needed, without needing to be told.

Someone with more scruples might push her away, but Tasha nodded. "That means you eat pussy?"

"Yeah." Jasmine chuckled. "I eat pussy."

"Okay," Tasha said, as if she was agreeing to a hairstylist's suggestion for a cut.

Jasmine moved Tasha to the dressing platform, knelt before her like a bridesmaid adjusting the bride's hem. "You're so gorgeous," she said. "All of Master's friends are so gorgeous."

"That's what you call him?" Tasha asked. "Master?"

"Sometimes." Jasmine knelt on the platform and lifted the hem of Tasha's dress. "What do you want me to call you?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

"Miss?" Jasmine suggested.

"Yeah." That alone seemed to make Tasha relax, as the muscles in her perfect, slender legs eased. "I like Miss."

"Miss." Jasmine peppered Tasha's leg with kisses. "I'm here for you. My entire purpose in this world, right now, is to make you cum before we leave this room."

"And what if you don't?" Tasha asked with a hint of excitement.

"Then Master won't be pleased," Jasmine said, without fear or warning. Just matter-of-factly, like she was describing the habits of the tide. She tugged teasingly at the waistband of Tasha's pink silk thong.

Tasha shuddered, and Jasmine held her tight to make sure she wouldn't fall. She rubbed Tasha's pussy with her thumb through the fabric, and Tasha trilled.

Sport wanted a mindless fucktoy, something not much different from a blow-up doll. Master, at least for now, wanted a wanton sex slave who stared at him like he was the most wonderful man in the world and laughed at all of his jokes.

Tasha, though, Tasha wanted something else. And Jasmine was beginning to figure out what that was.

"You've fucked my Master so many times, haven't you?" Jasmine cooed, running her lips along Tasha's tight torso. "He loves you. And so I love you." She licked the silk. "I am so happy he lent me to you."

"Oh, fuck." She could hear Tasha biting her lip with a groan. "I don't..." she panted, "Nnn...I don't think your job is going to be very hard."

Jasmine laughed and tugged the thong down, revealing Tasha's bare sex. "Do you want to know what it's like, to belong to him?"

She separated the folds of Tasha's pussy with her fingers, and licked the clit. It was almost immediately too much for the poor little rich girl. Her knees buckled. "I don't want...I'm not jealous of you," she promised, grasping Jasmine back for support.

"I know," Jasmine said. It was true. Tasha didn't want to belong to Devon. She had too many prospects, too much life to live, too much at stake. And she didn't need to be Devon's slave to fuck him. "But you want to know what it's like. You asked me if I was happy, but I think deep down, what you really want to know, is what it's like to have your mind ensnared and repurposed by someone you trusted." She lowered Tasha gently to the floor, and the girl looked up at her with heavy, wondrous eyes, propping herself up on her elbows.

Jasmine crawled to her, making sure to keep it clear to Tasha who was really in control. Which end of the leash belonged to which woman, even if Tasha had no intention of pulling it. If Jasmine's knees weren't scraped, she wasn't doing her job. "Do you want to know, Miss?"

"Yes," Tasha whispered.

In the scuffle, Tasha's dress had slid back down her legs, but Jasmine lifted it again and brought her head to Tasha's dripping pussy. She inhaled. When she was free, she'd never eaten a girl out. She'd never been attracted to women, and oral sex in general had seemed like something gross to be avoided whenever possible. But Master had shown her, when he had her deep in trance, molding her like she was supple clay. He'd shown her how good it was to make her users feel good, to lick their cocks and pussies until they jerked with arousal and came onto her face. He'd taught her to love the smell, the taste and feel of them on her tongue.

She remembered feeling so silly, even in her trance where emotions like that shouldn't be able to touch her. She remembered thinking it should have been obvious all along how wonderful it was to use her tongue to provide the pleasure that only a slave could give. But Devon had assured her that it was okay. She had him now. She had the owner she'd always needed. "I didn't know who I was before Devon. Before Master. I was so lost." Her voice cracked, and she buried into Tasha's pussy her grief for all the years she'd spent so directionless, unaware of just how fulfilled she could be. The stress at the thought that in a parallel universe, Jasmine had never met Devon. "I didn't even know how unhappy I was."

She stroked her tongue over Tasha's clit. "You know when an air conditioner turns off and you suddenly realize how awful the sound was, and how much better it is now that it's peaceful and quiet?" Another lick, which elicited an animalistic moan from Tasha, who tried to murmur an agreement between her squeals of pleasure. Jasmine put her hands on Tasha's toes and felt them curl into the hard carpet. "That's what it's like now. That's exactly what it's like. I don't have to worry anymore. Everything is decided for me. Every thought, every movement, every word, decided by your best friend. By my Master." She didn't even have to lick her again; the words alone seemed to send Tasha close to the edge. "He has never been denied what he wanted, and neither have you, Miss. I am your deepest desires molded into flesh."

She licked all the way from Tasha's labia to her stomach, crawling over her overwhelmed mistress until their faces touched. Her own slut cunt was pulsating at the effort of putting into words how incredible it felt to have her autonomy stripped away, to be hardly better than an object. Words could never be enough, but she knew how curious Tasha was, how arousing she found it to think her friend had taken an ordinary woman and turned her into a toy to be passed around his exclusive circle.

Tasha, in some ways, was like Jasmine. Her whole life mapped out from the moment she was born, never having to worry about anything. But the difference between them was, Tasha was destined for other things. Things that required opinions and autonomy. A husband and children, a spotlight on her, positions on various hoity-toity boards that did various hoity-toity things. She liked those things. She reveled with that silver spoon in her mouth. She relished the things it allowed her and her friends to do, the lives it allowed them to toy with.

Lives like Jasmine's. But all the money in the world could never give Tasha what Devon had. It couldn't give her the ability to take a mind and bend it to her will. It could only give her temporary access to the lives that Devon had claimed for himself. Even if he were to give Jasmine to Tasha permanently, or set her up with a slave of her very own, she would always lack the ability to really control them. It would be like owning an appliance that could only be repaired or fine-tuned by one very expensive company.

Which she probably already did, Jasmine acknowledged to herself. But regardless, that was why Tasha was so turned on by the descriptions of Jasmine's transformed mind, by being reminded of what her friend had done. It could bring her that much closer to tasting what it was like to be Devon.

"Do you want to know something else he's done to me?" Jasmine whispered, and Tasha could only nod between breaths. Jasmine ground her hips against Tasha's, stimulating her own pussy as much as she could, while rubbing Tasha's clit in circles. The rich girl whimpered and moaned and gasped. Her makeup would need a touch-up, Jasmine noted. "I'm not allowed to cum until you do, Miss," she said. "I'm always wet. I'm always horny. But my masters and mistresses always come first."

She remembered the relish in Devon's voice when he programmed that command into her, smiling at the pun, speaking the words into her ear, letting them soak into her. She remembered a tiny bit of resistance that she couldn't vocalize. No, no, please, I'm so fucking horny already, please don't tell me I can't cum. But since then, she'd learned how wonderful it was to pull the orgasms out of Devon, and her own climaxes seemed so much sweeter as a reward. And of course, she'd learned never to question the wisdom of her master's commands.

Well, almost never. She shuddered at the memory of how she'd behaved in the car, but shook her head, reminding herself that it wasn't hers to worry about right now. Master wouldn't be happy to learn she'd selfishly gotten distracted from her task by her own avoidable misstep.

"You can tell me not to, if you want to, Miss," Jasmine said to Tasha, being sure to keep her tawdry, smoky voice.

"Wh-why would I?" Tasha blinked heavily.

"I don't know," Jasmine said. "But you can, if you want."

"I don't...but...fuck..." She was so close, Jasmine could tell as she pressed her fingers harder into Tasha's clit. "What would happen...to you?"

"I don't know that either. It's not important." She kissed Tasha's cheek, and then her lips.

"God...he's really..." Tasha gasped, and with it, the last of her doubts of Devon's abilities were erased. Jasmine had convinced her that she was a real slave better than Devon ever could. "You're really...a...his..."

"Yes, Miss," Jasmine said quietly.

That was enough. Tasha threw her head back as best she could with her back already on the carpet, and her entire body vibrated with her orgasm. "God, yes, oh, oh, oh...!"

Jasmine's washed through her too, like a thundercloud clapping from her chest and rumbling down to her slut cunt. She didn't allow herself as loud a moan as Tasha's, only letting out a breathy gasp that didn't betray how devastatingly blissful she felt at a job well done. That was part of her job too, to express her emotions in the way her masters or mistresses would find most pleasing. Tasha hadn't fucked her. She had fucked Tasha. And so in this case, her own pleasure was incidental, maybe even moot.

She bit her lip as the aftershock of her orgasm burst forth with the understanding of what a good, good slave she was. It could only have been better if her Master was here with them, stroking her, complimenting her himself. But he'd done such a good job with her that she knew how good she was, how pleased he'd be.

The two women remained on the carpet for a few minutes as they caught their respective breaths. Then, there was a knock at the door.

For a moment, Jasmine thought it might be Devon, coming to check on them, but she didn't recognize the muffled voice on the other side, which sounded uncertain and deferent. "Hello? Is everything okay? We heard noises."

Free Jasmine might have left it to Tasha to smooth things over, but slave Jasmine knew that Tasha was in no state to handle this. Besides, Jasmine was there to serve her.

She smoothed Tasha's disheveled hair, kissed her forehead, and stood up, adjusting her own dress and hair as best she could before the person on the other end got the idea to find the key to the door. She unlocked the door and opened it a crack, just enough for her own face to peek through. "We're fine," she said to the short man in a waiter's uniform, flashing a dazzling and charismatic smile. "Thanks for checking."

"No one's hurt? Everyone's okay?" He was pimply-faced, and she could see other catering employees checking from around the corner. No doubt he'd been elected as the de-facto representative to figure out what was going on.

"Everyone's okay," she assured him. "Boy troubles," she lied.

He nodded, eyes growing wide, finally deciding the issue was above his paygrade. He'd probably come to New York for the same reason as her: to find himself, to find success. He was probably even the same age as Jasmine. But he seemed so, so much younger.

"Okay, it's just...I don't think you're supposed to be in there cause there's no wedding and..." he trailed off.

"We'll be out soon. Thanks." She slipped her head from the doorway and shut the door, then turned to Tasha, who'd propped herself up into a seated position and was staring at her.

"The night I met you," she said to Jasmine, "you couldn't even look any of us in the eye, or talk without stammering." She laughed. "He's made you more like him. Fucking figures."

Jasmine smiled. "May I redo your hair?" she asked.

Tasha put her hand to her scalp, then stood to examine herself in the tall mirror. "Oh, jeez," she muttered. "Definitely can't go out like this. You can really fix it?"

"Yes, Miss." Jasmine brought over a chair and sat Tasha in front of the mirror. She pulled a travel bottle of hairspray and bobby pins from her clutch, which had been lying by the door.

"I always thought you looked so frumpy before," Tasha said. "No offense."

"I was," Jasmine said. It was just about impossible for her to be insulted now. She tugged gently at the locks of Tasha's hair that had come out of her bun. "Devon prefers my hair down, but he wanted me to be adept at grooming myself, and others. In the early days, I used to browse hairstyle tutorials on my work computer. I didn't even know why I was doing it." She smiled at both of their reflections.

"Did it feel weird?" Tasha asked. "Doing things without understanding why?"

"Sometimes. But he was already suppressing my thoughts at that point, so that helped." She stuck a bobby pin in her teeth as she positioned Tasha's bun.

"When he first told us what he was going to do to you, I guess I was literally picturing you'd be like, a fucking...I don't know...like one of those real dolls except human."

"I could be," Jasmine said quietly, wistfully. "If he wants." She looked at the mirror again, locking eyes with Tasha.

"I didn't know if you could think at all."

"I still think," she said. "It would probably be hard to parade me through a room of unsuspecting people if I was literally mindless."

Tasha let out a snort. "You'd be pretty fucking surprised at how few people would notice."

Jasmine let out a twinkling laugh. "It's the critical thinking that he's tamped down," she explained. "After all, what he's done to me, it's...well, a normal person wouldn't call it moral. I know it's not. But he's taken away my ability to care. And I know that's wrong too, but I also don't care about that." She had to stop momentarily as arousal made her quiver.

Tasha didn't seem to know what to say, and if Jasmine knew anything about Tasha, it was that she never ran out of things to say. "Do you have a compact?" Jasmine asked to break the silence. Hers was a few shades too light for Tasha's face.

"Oh, yes. My bag's over there." She pointed to the spot where she'd been standing when Jasmine came in.

Jasmine retrieved it and handed it to Tasha, who dug around in it. Before the compact, though, she pulled out her vape pen and pressed the buttons quickly to activate it, then took a puff. "Want some?" she asked, angling the pen towards Jasmine.

"No drugs, no alcohol," Jasmine said. "You enjoy."

"God, I couldn't survive like that. No offense." She took another drag, then made an acknowledging sound with the pen still in her mouth. "Oh, right." She pulled out her compact and lipstick.

Jasmine knelt in front of her. She raised the lipstick to reapply it on Tasha, but before she could, Tasha kissed her lips. "I think you and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other," she said. For the first time since Jasmine walked into the room, she could hear a bit of playfulness and ease in the girl's voice. "As much as your," she sighed with delight, like she still couldn't quite believe it, "as much as your Master will let me."

"Yes," she said, no thanks or promises. Either would be presumptuous. She pressed the lipstick to Tasha's lips. "I'll tell him."

"Oh, you can bet I will too," Tasha said with a smack of her lips. She preened in the mirror for a moment. "Can't even tell," she said. "Kind of a shame."

"Yes, Miss." With nothing else to do to care for Tasha, Jasmine stood and put her hand on the back of Tasha's chair, awaiting further instructions.

"Guess we should get back out there." Tasha pouted.

"Yes, Miss." Jasmine had to look away from her own reflection as she spoke. She felt liable to put herself into a trance, being so blank and quietly obedient, thinking about her Master. Her legs trembled, unsure if they wanted to stay by Tasha's side, or carry her back to the ballroom where he awaited.

Tasha stood up. "Let's just go out together," she said. "Who gives a fuck what anyone thinks?"

"I don't." Devon might, but he might also find it amusing if any eyebrows were raised.

Tasha clasped her hand, suddenly, in the way an old friend might. "Shall we?" She tugged on Jasmine's arm, and led her out of the bridal room and down the hall.

In the ballroom, Devon was seated at their table, conversing with two older women. "Oh, great," Tasha murmured, and Jasmine recognized one of them as Tasha's mother, who'd been seated next to her father during his speech. "You met the former Mrs. Stockwell yet?" Tasha asked.

Even with a free mind, Jasmine would have had to take a moment to translate what Tasha meant. "Devon's mother." She was the second woman.

"Yep."

"Oh."

As they approached, snippets of their conversation became audible. "...her nanny always talked about how 'spirited' she was," Tasha's mother said. She noticed her daughter approaching and waved. "Her father wanted the hammer to come down hard on her attitude, of course, but Birgitta, her nanny, she'd come with a Masters in child development and recommended, I guess you'd call them more gentle techniques? More introspective." She put her hand on her own chest. "I thought she was nuts, but Tasha was a perfect angel after that. Well, until she hit puberty." The two women and Jasmine's Master laughed. "Anyway, my point is," she put a hand on Devon's thigh, and Jasmine noticed Devon's mother raised an eyebrow and looked away with a subtle roll of her eyes, "there's no need to put off children. You get the right nanny and they're easy as pie to raise."

"Justine, really." Jasmine had always thought that Devon didn't sound much like his father, whose voice was more crackly and higher. But now she realized, he sounded like his mother. She was unmistakably a woman, but her voice was deep and lilting, confident. The kind of voice that demanded respect without having to ask for it outright. "The girl's just moved in with him."

Jasmine almost stopped, realizing they were talking about her. Tasha squeezed her arm, and gently pushed her towards Devon, who reached out and put an arm around her waist, still seated in his chair. "I would have liked to introduce you under less...awkward circumstances," he said, giving Tasha's mother a meaningful look.

"Where were you two hiding, anyway?" Tasha's mother asked her daughter.

"Clearing our heads," Tasha said, flashing the end of her vape pen from her purse.

Her mother sighed. "You see what I mean? I swear, this girl gave me gray hairs ten years early." She put a hand to her expertly dyed brunette head.

"Ringing endorsement for children," Devon said.

"Oh, but Tasha's told me how absolutely charming your Jasmine is." No one was addressing her directly, and so Jasmine just stood, eyes down, waiting for her owner to move her or acknowledge her. They didn't seem to notice or care, either, and Jasmine understood then why Tasha had seemed so skeptical that Devon wouldn't make her stupid and blank just so she could fit in at social events. "Between the two of you," Tasha's mother went on, "I think it's safe to say your children would inherit calmer genes."