Mike & Karen Ch. 24

"Dad, no, please..." Alex pleaded. In no way, shape, or form did he want to be exposed to endless hours of his parents' homemade smut. "Just gouge out my eyes, or-"

"No point arguing, son," Mike replied, shaking his head. "You have wronged the woman I would break this world for. If you intend to marry Alli, then you are going to convert all this homemade pornography into encrypted 4K format and not complain. bIyaj'a'?"

His dad was speaking Klingon at him. He wasn't getting out of this one.

Alex sighed and nodded. "jIyaj, jaj."

He looked around at the boxes. Dear God, his parents were such perverts. "How... how many years' worth of... things... are there here?"

Mike and Karen looked at one another. "Well," his mom mused. "We both turn fifty this year, so... probably forty, one way or another."

"Most of the earliest stuff is your mother's," Mike added, shrugging.

"Stop that!" she hissed, swatting her husband's arm before giggling. "Just because they didn't have camera technology up in Kapuskasing until the turn of the millennium doesn't mean you're allowed to point out the depravities of my tender youth, sir!"

"Apologies, Semiramis," he chuckled before looking at his son again. "You definitely have your work cut out for you, boyo. We haven't let up as the years marched on."

Alex groaned and hung his head. "Is it just the two of you?"

He was shocked to hear his mother almost guffaw derisively. "Not even close, child. Michael, myself, your aunts Mona, Janet, and Lisa, my dear friend Jennifer, the Stevensons, many of the parties we have hosted, some of my time of Saint Evangeline..."

Their son had his hand over his face. Had his transgression been this bad?

"You look like you want to protest," Karen observed. "You have many months to complete the task, Alex. You may have to cut back on video games, but I promise you will have plenty of free time for your studies and your roleplay gaming friends. I wouldn't want any of them to suffer for your folly."

"No, mom," he said finally, listing his head and smiling weakly. "I might've caused the bishop to take a stand against Alexa and I getting married. That's pretty big. Guess I deserve this, even if I dread the thought."

"That's my suddenly responsible little boy," Karen cooed, patting his cheek. "Besides, the computer does most of the heavy work, you're just... converting, categorizing, dating and filing. I've no doubt we'll have further requests of you, but let's start there, shall we?"

"I'd better get going," Mike said, looking at his watch. "If I have the remotest hope of teaching those first-year labradoodles what Calabi-Yau Manifolds are, I need all the time I can get to explain it to them."

"I could find you some crayons or sock puppets," Karen offered.

Mike laughed and pulled his wife into an embrace and kissed her. Karen melted accordingly. When the kiss ended, he looked down at her, stroking her lovely face by the cheek.

"Remember," he said softly. "We need that funding proposal for the K-19 lab submitted by sixteen-hundred, or the window closes."

"I remember," she sighed dreamily, looking up at him. "You go. I'll hold down the fort."

Mike nodded and turned to walk out of the room. Karen continued staring at him, her gaze drifting down to his butt, encased in jeans.

"Mom?" Alex intruded. "Mom?"

She was still staring.

Okay, mom's gone bye-bye, the young man thought grimly. Better get out of here while I can...

Alex slipped out of the room and back upstairs quickly, away from any pending mother-wrath. The door slowly closed behind him with an awkward clank.

Karen blinked and looked around, realizing she was now alone in the room. Rotten child, leaving me alone like that...

She moved to depress the handle and open the door, but found it had stuck. She frowned and tried jostling the iron mechanism, to no avail. She used both hands, eventually bracing her foot against the wall next to the door as she pressed down and pulled. Nothing. She thumped on the iron-bound wooden door repeatedly. "Alex?" she called out. "Alex!"

Who would have thought an antique door built in the Georgian era could prove to be such a hassle?

She checked her smartwatch. How the Hell can I have no signal?!

Leaning back against the door, she closed her eyes. Ari is reformatting the boosters. I'm stuck without signal in a bunker. And Michael took the key...

Karen hadn't deigned to bring hers along, since they clashed with her outfit.

Muttering unladylike things under her breath, she began scrounging around the room, looking for a screwdriver...

***

Finally, back upstairs...

"Wow, Mistress, that's a different look for you," Valentina remarked, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as Karen posed variously, looking at herself in a full-length mirror. She was wearing surprisingly modest lingerie, made up of several pieces of a shimmering beige satin. A couple of similar sets were sitting on the bed next to her. "I'm not used to you wearing anything that covers you up so much."

"Neither am I, to be honest," Karen replied, running her hands through her hair as she twisted left and right, cocking her hips and knees. From her collarbone down to mid-thigh, her magnificent figure was concealed by the underthings. It couldn't hide the sheer size of her bust, but the fact that there wasn't even any cleavage showing was highly unusual for her. Even her business clothing very often accentuated her lovely form, a tactic she used to great effect, and had for decades. "But even items like this have their uses."

"I can't imagine what they are, to be honest," Val admitted, stunned by how elegant Karen made anything she wore seem. Even the beige stockings, plain as the day was long, looked incredibly sensual on her. "And you said you're giving them to someone?"

Karen smirked as she tried a Betty Boop pose for effect, still watching herself in the mirror. "As you are no doubt aware after your service with the Duncolms, even the bluest of blood doesn't keep one from having certain quirks, kinks, or fetishes society might deem unusual."

"Hm, true dat," Val allowed, watching in fascination. She's never known anyone as sultry or gorgeous as Karen DeBourne, barring her younger sister, Alexa. "But what's that got to do with your skivvies, Mistress?"

"A neighbour on the other end of the Bridle Path, her husband has a penchant for women's drab underwear and lingerie," Karen explained, holding her hands behind her back and twisting a toe into the floor, looking both coy and naughty at once. "It seems he not only likes to touch, feel and sniff them, but he sometimes wears them. His wife, an acquaintance of mine, was venting the other day that he's ruined most of her dainties and she doesn't want him ruining her expensive lingerie with his somewhat unusual habits."

"Huh," Val said, trying to picture who on earth her Mistress could be talking about. As far as she was concerned, most rich people were weird, so it was difficult to narrow down the list. "So, what, you're donating a few sets of old, junky lingerie to the cause?" she asked, pointing to a brown attaché case on the floor.

"Just so," confirmed the bronze-haired woman, nodding and turning around now to look at her servant. "A couple of the women in the neighbourhood who know of the issue are giving our friend old or disused unmentionables she can fob off on her husband. Not to brag, but he was thrilled to perverted little bits when he found out I was donating some items for him to disgrace."

"Well, I don't blame him there," the servant admitted, feeling a welcome tingle as she watched her Mistress posing. If Karen was going to part with them, maybe she just wanted some memories of how they looked on her before they got defiled by some rich ol' perv. "If I could have an entire bedset made of underthings you'd worn, I'd die a happy li'l girl."

Karen smirked at her servant and winked. "Maybe one day after a good workout, I'll slip into your room and wrap myself up in your sheets and roll around. How does that sound?"

"Ooh, don't tease, Mistress," Val almost whined, bouncing her leg. "Like I'm not already getting all gooey from watching you. Mi fai cosi bagnari."

"You don't say," Karen purred, turning and sauntering toward the servant girl, a seductive smile on her lovely face. Val's went a shade of red. "I don't suppose you would care to prove this contention."

Valentina swallowed and uncrossed her legs before spreading them. No matter how embarrassed she got, she never refused her Master or Mistress anything. Her skirt was short enough that her panties were instantly and fully exposed by the movement. Val reached between her legs and pulled the wet material to one side, exposing her pussy to her Mistress.

"Honesty is a wonderful trait in a servant, Miss Prospero," Karen said in a breathy voice as she knelt in front of the smaller woman. "And a trait that should always be rewarded..."

Val shivered and sucked in her breath as Karen took hold of her supple legs and held them in place while she leaned in, kissing her way along those creamy thighs. While certainly not olive-skinned, Valentina's Italian heritage meant her skin was a lovely, light tan colour, her hair and eyes a dark brown. She kept her pussy completely shaved, and apparently had done so before she'd even begun working at the Manor, despite being a virgin. She was aroused now, and Karen could smell it, a heavenly scent. A scent that never failed to turn the patrician goddess on.

Karen had always, in general, preferred women to men in the great scheme of things. With the exception of her mighty husband, this was how she'd lived her entire life since discovering her sexuality. Women were for relationships, men were just toys. Fun toys, of course, but she preferred women. Her younger sister seemed to be the same way, barring her devotion and great lust for her nephew and husband, Alex. Karen and Alexa were both very bisexual, perhaps leaning slightly toward lesbian, but for the men in their lives.

And considering the mighty weapon swinging between her husband's legs, even lesbians couldn't blame Karen, could they?

She kissed and nipped her way in toward Miss Prospero's center, making the servant girl squirm, sigh, and moan. Her fingers clutched the bedsheets as she tried to hold still for her Mistress. Karen made her absolutely crazy with desire, pretty much instantly. She attempted to breathe through her nose to control herself and not be loud, but it was doomed to be a losing battle. Not that she minded, and she was pretty damned sure Mistress didn't either. She never seemed to.

Karen's wicked tongue flicked over the glistening netherlips and Val gasped loudly before simply throwing herself back on the bed, her knees still over sides and spread shamelessly. She gazed off at a far wall, her mind floating as Mistress began working her magic. Slow, sensual circling of her tongue around Val's pulsing clit, or strong dragging motions up and down her lips, often parting them, threatening to push deep within, but not quite yet. Val trembled and whined, wanting more, but loving the tease.

Karen was smiling slyly, looking up her servant's body while she lapped at her honeyed womanhood. Miss Prospero was fumbling to undo the bodice that was the top of her outfit, allowing her trembling hands access to her abundant breasts. The girl fondled and squeezed them, gasping and hissing as she pinched the nipples and pulled on them. Her head moved from side to side as she attempted to control her breathing.

Karen's hands moved in, the thumbs now gently pulling on Miss Prospero's thick outer lips, spreading them and keeping them apart to expose her. The servant girl keened in embarrassed pleasure. Her dark pink inner pussy glistened wetly, totally exposed to Karen. Val was so turned on that Karen could see her inner muscles throbbing in desire, yearning for more, for the delicious completion that Karen had only teasingly promised. But Karen would make her cum, and cum hard. She was thankful she'd closed the door to her bedroom suite, just in case Valentina's cries of ecstasy carried through the house. Everyone had no doubt heard them many times before, but there was no point in advertising, was there?

Karen snaked her tongue around, delighting in the taste of her lover. Valentina panted, whined, squeaked, and squirmed, still groping her breasts, her eyes closed. The bronze-haired woman's strong tongue lapped and pushed around the pussylips, which readily gave way to it. Val's clit was a tingling fire, sending lances of pleasure blitzing along her nervous system. She felt like she was floating, and her limbs were barely attached. There was only her pussy and her Mistress' merciless tongue. And that was all she cared about right now, whole bodies be damned.

Karen dragged her tongue right up the center of Valentina's core, and the servant girl bucked and moaned loudly, her whole frame shaking in sensuous bliss. Clearly Mistress intended to make her cum this first time without diving inside. Val didn't mind; Karen had made her cum simply by caressing her tits before. Mistress had said she was to be rewarded, and Val believed her. She'd never had reason not to before, after all. She was sweating now, and Val knew she'd be changing into a fresh outfit shortly. It wouldn't do to walk about smelling like orgasm sweat, would it? Certainly not with the bishop arriving.

Karen smiled evilly as she flickered her tongue rapidly over that wanton clit, and Val squealed in response, squirming and bucking again. She pulled with her thumbs a little harder, making Val keen at the delicious, stinging stretch. She slid her tongue down, to the tight, slick pink v at the bottom of Val's pussy that was the fourchette. She preferred the poetic French word to the rather clinical-sounding frenulum. Karen loved how wet Miss Prospero could get, thanking how her Bartholin's glands kicked into overdrive when necessary. She was not unlike herself or Alli that way. It took very little effort to make the girl wetter than the floor of a canoe, although she couldn't imagine anyone objecting.

She teased her tongue at the opening, moving up and down rhythmically before she pushed in close and latched on to the servant girl's clit, sucking it into her mouth. Val juddered and wailed now, arching her back and squeezing her breasts so hard that she thought they might bruise. Not that she minded sex bruises, of course. She ground and squirmed, but Karen held on, massaging the throbbing bud inside her mouth, her eyes closed as she savoured the taste.

"Mistress!" Val gasped suddenly, almost thrashing, her eyes snapping open. "I'm gonna-"

Karen pulled back for a moment, intent on teasing Val a little more, bringing her down and edging her again, but her eyes went wide as she saw Val's pussy muscles squeezing and opening before she came. Hard.

She wasn't ready when Val squirted. But it felt weird as it spritzed her face. It felt... thick and not at all like cum from a woman. The shock of what Val had just bathed her face in hit Karen and she went still, staring ahead sightlessly. She was only dimly aware of Miss Prospero still thrashing back and forth and moaning loudly as she worked her way through an unexpected and tumultuous orgasm.

Val was laying still, murmuring softly to herself in Italian and caressing her breasts as she floated on a scintillating cloud of rapture. She finally opened her eyes and slowly looked down her sweat-slicked form. She paused, all thoughts of her pleasure forgotten when she saw her Mistress, staring up at her silently, her beautiful face covered in what looked liked little ropes or tendrils of pearly cum.

The look in those golden-amber eyes conveyed only shock and an unwelcome realization of what had happened. And once she figured it out, Valentina turned crimson in humiliation.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Mistress..." she fumbled to say, not daring to move, but knowing she had to say something. "Your husband... I... I serviced him just before he left, and he came a lot, even for him. I didn't expect it to... to..."

"Never mind, Miss Prospero," Karen said a very quiet voice Val had never heard before. Her Mistress was still staring off at seemingly nothing. Her husband's cum was now dripping down onto the negligee below. "Never... never mind. Let us never speak of this moment ever again."

And to her dying day, Valentina Prospero never did, lest the Angel of Vengeance find her.

***

The grand foyer...

The doorbell, which he had almost never heard get rung before, attracted his attention. Since he was the only one nearby, Tunde answered, opening the door. Standing in front of him was a rather small, mousy-looking white guy in a cheap suit and with thick, Coke-bottle glasses.

"Uh, hi..." the man said quietly, clearly stunned by the interior vista he was suddenly presented with when he opened the door. "I'm Howard, and I'm here to pick up a parcel from Mr. and Mrs. DeBourne."

Tunde blinked for a moment. "A parcel?"

"Yes," Howard said, adjusting his suit jacket in an attempt to look a little more official. "For the ROM."

"The ROM..." Tunde repeated, thinking about what the man meant. "Oh, is that the Royal Ontario Museum?"

"Yes, that's us!" the smaller man said, smiling brightly and seemingly pleased. "I'm to pick up an attaché case with a new display for the Mesopotamian exhibit."

"Oh, that," Tunde said, snapping his fingers and then nodding. "I know where that is. Please, step inside while I go and get it for you..."

Howard nodded and stepped inside, looking around in awe. The foyer of this place was larger than his entire apartment! He turned awkwardly in slow circles, staring at everything while Tunde loped off. This was only the foyer of Blackwell Manor?

He looked up too high and yelped as he lost his balance and fell on his butt...

Tunde was on his way to the library when he espied the attaché case sitting in the hallway on an ornate, marble-topped credence table. He picked it up and made his way back, pleased that the delivery for the ROM was a cinch. He returned to the foyer, where he found Howard staring at a portrait of a nude woman on the wall. He seemed to be making little noises under his breath.

"Here we are," Tunde said, causing the intern to gasp and quickly withdraw his hand from the front of his pants. "I believe this is what you were looking for."

"Oh, uh, yes... yes, thank you," the man said, turning to face Tunde and trying not to blush. Tunde saw he was about to reach out with the hand that had just been busy and offered it to the (as yet) unused hand. Howard got the message, coughed apologetically, and took the case. "So yes, there'll be confirmation sent by my supervisor to your employer once they're in possession. Thank you, have a good day."

"You as well, drive safely, and drive with both hands," Tunde replied as he showed Howard out. He closed the door behind the man before frowning and muttering under his breath before returning to his duties. Those garden border forms weren't going to build themselves. He nodded to Andrea as she walked by, whistling a happy tune while she tapped her largest (and favourite) wrench on her shoulder. She smiled brightly as she saw Freja move stealthily around a corner, as if wary of being seen.

"Heya, toots," she said, giving the obviously anxious Freja a bit of a start. The Danish girl relaxed somewhat when she saw it was the estate mechanic. "What's got you sneakin' around, looking so paranoid?"

"I ams just not wanting to run into Karen at the moment," Freja replied, trying to relax. "I have not yet convinced myself that she is not intending to kill me and fertilize her lawn with me if she sees me again."