Levirate Customs

I was looking over the back of the couch, and the backs of two female heads were visible. Beyond them was the big-screen TV on the wall, where misogynistic porn was playing--the source of the sounds that had startled me. I crept closer to the back of the couch, and got my next big surprise. Carol and Dana were side-by-side on towels on the couch, their skirts up around their waists, and edging each other! Evidently they had done this often enough that each was able to sense when the other was about to go over the edge and was able to snatch her hand away, with a punitive spank or two with the flat of the hand to "make sure." Don't want no violations of Rule 2 around here, no siree!

This was a feast for the eyes, but I wanted my Scotch. "Good afternoon, girls!" There was a chorus of shrieks and giggles. They pulled down their skirts and raced around opposite ends of the couch to me. Carol reached me first, dropped to her knees, and, looking up, kissed the back of my hand. Dana started to run, but remembered to fire up her "10 and 2," and made it to me a moment later. Dana put one arm around my waist, pulled me into a kiss, and began stroking the front of my trousers. All the while, the soundtrack of the porn movie played over the top.

Mutual edging, huh? I made a mental note to make them mutually edge by 69-ing for me. Should be quite a show.

I disengaged to go change out of my suit. They both pouted.

Character Development/Finale

"Girls, we have been at this relationship for about 3 months now. Let's check in with your 'characters.' Carol, you're talking to one of your friends whom you can trust to be discreet. What do you say?"

Carol was wearing--if that's the word--only a body harness made of black leather straps riveted together, which framed her tits and pussy, and snugly enclosed her torso like a second rib-cage. The buckles had been pulled tight enough that her breasts bulged around the straps. Wetness glistened on the tops of her stockings. The straps dug into her sides with every in-breath. Her nipples were covered with leather patches secured with snaps to the harness. Each patch had a bit of abrasive material on its inner surface. A quick tug would remove the patches if I desired.

The stripes from the last time I caned her were fading. Her stockings covered the bruises on her thighs, but nothing covered the bruises on her arms. If she went outside the next few days, she'd need to wear a long-sleeve top.

The metal handle of a butt-plug glinted between her ass cheeks. She crawled over to me on hands and knees, careful not to damage her stockings. A tiny bell hanging from her clit ring tinkled merrily as she crawled. A light, silvery chain trailed across the carpet from the clit ring to a padeye on a leg of the coffee table. Other padeyes were conveniently located in the kitchen, laundry, and bedroom.

She kissed my feet and knelt up.

"It's all working out pretty much as I'd hoped.

"The sex is great, and there's plenty of it! It's so much better, now that I know how to serve him in bed, to do what he likes, to make him moan, even when it hurts me, and I cum like a rocket when he lets me. Though it's embarrassing: when I'm making dinner, I often catch myself humping the corner of the countertop.

"He's not too rough with me in bed, not more than I can take I mean anyway. I can take it now, really I can, most of the time anyhow, really, and Dana is there to give me a night off when I'm too sore to perform, bless her sweet heart.

"I have to say that he's really taught me responsibility. I don't get away with anything. And if I try to cut corners, we have a little discussion about my shortcomings, just him, and me, and Mr. Cane.

"Leave him? Not a chance. I don't have a dime for bus fare. The women's shelter here in town? Don't make me laugh--he's on the Board of Directors there. I wouldn't last half an hour. And then of course there's this...." She ran a fingertip along a few inches of the chain that lay on her thigh.

"The worst part? It's bad enough that I've helped turn my daughter into his personal porn star. Worse, it's a matter of survival for me to master the same skills: if I don't step up, she'll get more of his dick and I'll get less. It's bad enough that I'm terrified of the slightest chance of displeasing him, but worse than that, it messes with my head that I want to please him. It's bad enough that there's not the ghost of a chance of escape. It's worse that I'm starting to enjoy being under his thumb. Stockholm Syndrome? You bet! It's bad enough knowing that all this makes me wet! But the worst part? The worst part is that the shame of getting wet from the humiliation makes me wetter!

"But all of that that misses the best part, what makes it all worthwhile: the peace and calm and focus that I get from knowing that I am his property, that I am owned; when whole, unnecessary chunks of who I used to be just fall away. There's never any sense of having to make choices, to do trade-offs, to 'do this to get that', of I-me-mine. Every instant, every action is for his pleasure, and somehow it pays me back a hundred-fold. When he put the chain on me the first time, I allowed myself a little glow of pride, because it showed that I'd made myself worth keeping. Not every woman is worthy of being chained! When I know that I've pleased him, there's a warmth that floods me that's beyond describing. I really do 'get pleasure from giving pleasure.' Maybe someday he will collar me."

Applause from the audience.

"Dana, bring it on."

Dana gave my cock a final slurp, then waved her mother over. Carol would be on cock-warmer duty until it was time for her to start dinner, and she obediently knelt on the floor between my thighs. Dana fed the head of my dick into Carol's mouth, and Carol buried her nose in my belly.

This wasn't a blowjob. Carol was expected to remain motionless for the duration. With her forehead resting on my shirt, my balls tickling her chin, and a mouthful of cock, she couldn't move, speak, or see anything. We often spent whole afternoons like this while I watched TV, read a book, or made out with Dana.

Carol had said that the position was unexpectedly therapeutic. The result of the enforced immobility, she said, was that the demons in her mind became very quiet.

I tapped the side of her head twice with a fingertip--a warning to begin swallowing as I used her throat as a urinal. When I was finished, I stroked her hair and she purred around my cock.

Dana reluctantly pulled her fingers out of her snatch, licked them, and pulled down the hem of her hot-pink sweater-dress. It was a very short, very tight dress, so pulling the hem down didn't cover much. The dress didn't even pretend to cover the tops of her thigh-high stockings. The plunging neckline showed off the cleavage of her DD's. Her nipples were doing all they could to bore holes through the fabric. She thrust out her chest and swaggered over to perch on a corner of the coffee table. When her rump hit the table there was an audible "clank" as the metal handle of the butt-plug hit the table top. "Oopsie!" She giggled, and then became serious.

"Back at the beginning, that first week, before he moved in, when he didn't commit to moving in, Mom was afraid he'd walk away, leave her to just fall apart. After all, we were no blood of his. Though she hid it pretty well, she was desperate, and looking for a way to seal the deal. Desperate women try desperate measures. She thought that a 'free sample,' seasoned with a handful of guilt, might induce him to buy the whole package. She came to me with the plan of having me tease him until he lost control and raped me. The idea was for me to provoke a rape scene with all the trimmings: torn clothes, hysterical crying, some blood from a split lip, a few bruises, lots of 'Please, no!,' my little fists beating futilely against his chest. If all went according to plan, he'd be overcome with guilt and sign up to take care of us.

"I tried, honest I did! But even with her coaching, I couldn't get him to lose control no matter how much I teased him, rubbing up against him, putting his hand on my tit or under my skirt! The man has a will of iron. Or maybe I just wasn't good enough rape-bait."

So that was what had been going on! She sighed. Then she brightened.

"But it worked out OK, especially because she was wrong about him. So he wound up taking my cherry in a way that was better for both of us.

"So: three months ago, I was a virgin, just a wannabe slut. I talked a big game, but I didn't know shit. Now, I'm a kept woman. Stamped and certified. No cherries. Upgraded with my first bolt-ons. I can take a baseball bat in my pussy, or clamp down hard enough to make a pencil scream for mercy. I'm butt-plugged all day, every day, and it makes my pussy drool. There's a wet spot on the back of my dress right now. My gag reflex is a distant memory. Daddy has made me what I am, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Oh, and I 'get along' better with Mom than ever! Like..." and she made the motion of wiping her chin.

Carol, though she could not see Dana's gesture, knew what she meant, and managed an embarrassed smile around my dick.

That night in bed had all the choreographed dignity of a rugby scrum.