The House of Lesslie Ch. 03

I.

She had become such a devil, my sweet Caroline.

Inside her, I was sure, it had raged already long before she had met me, that hellish fire of a demon goddess, but now it had been given shape and form and the means to live it out, those delirious desires that had been born in that hell's fire.

She smiled at me as I left the bed, stretching her perfected, transformed body.

I admired the results of my work, of those weeks of pain and change that had stripped away all remnants of who once had been born as the second daughter of a shopkeeper's family in Dublin.

Someone who had been on the way to marriage, a dull life, a different kind of cage, only to live out society's wants and needs, never her own.

She reached across to the cigar box next to the bed, ready to fill her lungs with the same filth that filled mine, her fingers now talons of the most exquisite kind, the way I wanted my lovers to wear them.

I left her chain, merely a reminder of the fact that she was and forever would be my pet, with her on the rubber sheeting that was glistening with last night's sweat. She took up the lighter, slid the cigar between her lips and burned her lungs with the first deep drag.

Caroline hadn't smoked, had always thought it to be a filthy thing, and just as so many who rail and rant and rage against filth, it was what she had always secretly wanted, to be a proper smoke whore, relishing the glamour and sexuality that came with letting your mouth flood with creamy, ghostly and bitterly flavored cigar cum.

"Fuck, yes!" she announced proudly to the world as the smoke dug deep into her body and clawed out yet another small chunk of the woman she had once been, changing herself gradually into the demon whore she could she now every time she looked in a mirror.

She exhaled thin streams of dragon breath.

"Fuck, that's good!" she said. "Best thing after a cock in the morning, this is!"

"I know, darling," I said. God, did I know!

I looked at her, with her eyes closed. As I stated, gone was the ghostly form that she had presented to me on her first day. Gone was the woman who - despite being quite something to look at - had been never one to stand out in a crowd.

If the people who knew her could see her now, they would gasp in horror and arousal.

Her red waterfall of hair had been cut to a short, masculine crop that made her look more manly, a thick gushing flow of hair only on the top of her head, slicked back and ending long before her neckline. The sides of her head were shaved clean, the white flesh there now showing my mark, a dragon tattoo that slouched all across at the base of her skull, its eyes staring at you from her right temple, the claws ending at the base of her eye, its tail curling down on the left temple, going down her neck and throat like a series of collars, going down around the base of her right breast and ending, quite poignantly, at her pierced nipple.

The haircut had been my explicit order, and someone less knowing about the past might have mistaken its inspiration to be Annie Lennox and her androgynous glory of the 1980s. In fact it was based on old black and white photographs of the 1930s, a perfect capping of the rest of her transformed body.

Not a member of the master race, she nonetheless had been remade to look like what all those pathetic worms had aspired to be. An industrial-styled goddess ripped from the glory days of decadence into the here and now.

"Best thing after a cock in the morning," Caroline repeated, purring it out and licking her lips as the cigar smoldered between her fingers.

The tongue that flickered out between the lips was now pierced like my own, three barbells that rose up like the most adorable silver buttons, briefly disappearing in the smoky fog of the next drag she greedily sucked in, hoping that it would be my cock that would soon follow in its path.

I had given her no lip piercing, preferring a smoothness there, but underneath her nose she now sported a thick, steel ring that fell down and was perfection above her mouth.

"I need to piss, my darling" I told her, showing off my piss-filled shaft that had been aching for a release for a good half hour now.

She licked her lips again. Smoked. Gave me a smoky smile.

"I know," she purred.

Her nails had been sharpened and filed to pointy talons, and I had more than ample evidence of their effectiveness on my body from last night's glories. She moved her head down a little, like a cat waiting to be petted.

"I am thirsty," she said. "So fucking thirsty for you, Mistress."

"For my clit champagne, darling?"

"Yessssss," she hissed.

"And what would you do for it, my demon whore?"

"Anything," Caroline hissed before throwing head back and laughing girlishly. "You know that, Mistress. Anything!"

"Will you worship it?"

"Every day."

"Will you drink from my filthy soul?"

"Every moment."

"Will you accept your place?"

"I am your whore."

"Such a good whore," I said, dreamily.

I positioned myself at the side of the bed, slowly stroking my girl cock to full attention while Caroline next to me stretched and purred, her soul awakened, her body attempting to catch up.

"I can feel it inside me," she said. "What you are doing to me, Mistress."

"And what am I doing to you, sweet Caroline?"

A frown appeared on her face, a sign of insecurity.

"I don't ... I don't know, Mistress."

"It's filling you, isn't it?"

I put my palms against her breasts, now both pierced and showing off thick silver rings, chained together. Caroline took a breath. They had darkened, these nipples, from the gushing bright red they had been to a darker color, not quite black but the shade of dried blood.

"Yessss...." she hissed.

"Like they are thick and dark tentacles, rising up from your heart, stretching out to every part of your body?"

"Yesss...." she hissed.

"It's growing inside you, my sweet whore," I said. "My filth."

"Mmmmh", moaned Caroline. "I love it."

"Drink from me," I said.

Caroline leaned forward, alternating between breaths and drags of her cigar as I slid my piss-filled morning cock into her mouth, gasping quietly at the cold steel balls that engulfed it from her tongue, providing the perfect bumps for my raw and electrified fleshy snake.

"So gooood," murmured Caroline as the first drops dribbled into her mouth, while I arched back and began to play with my nipples. ""Sooooo fucking good."

The stream that followed gushed deeply into her mouth and down her stretched throat, turning her words in a gurgling wet sound of unholy decadence. I filled her with more than just my waste, oh so much more, I thought to myself. It washed down her throat, burned its way through her and gathered in her belly, like the filthiest seed. Not everybody had been so willing as her, although I prided myself of having converted some, here and there, during my years of wandering the world.

When I pulled back from her mouth, I let the remains of that delightful gold flood her tattooed face, her tongue still slipping out, an almost mournful growl, predatory and nasty, to follow.

"I wish I had a cock like yours," she growled.

I laughed softly and petted that wonderful short-cropped hair of hers.

"Darling," I said, "I seem to remember that I have bought you quite a few of them."

"A real cock," she purred.

"And what would you do with that, my darling?" I asked.

"I would breed," she hissed. There was that growing fire in her eyes that announced that fierce lust that had grown, but it was not complete, for a moment after, a somewhat confused Caroline shook her head and laughed. "Oh my god!"

"What?" I asked

"I said that?" she laughed. "To breed?"

The laughter was quite innocent.

"Yes," I said with a smile. "That's exactly what you said, dear."

I took the cigar from her fingers, forced a thick and hot cloud of smoke into my own lungs and let it linger there, before kissing my most beloved pet on her smooth lips and breathing myself into her soul. She greedily sucked it in, and her body shuddered.

"And it makes me very happy to hear that," I said.

II.

It had taken us quite considerably more time to reach London on that second day, after the whole business with our dearest driver.

Andrew was back again in his uniform, that much of his dignity we had given him back after having fisted his shithole in a beautifully depraved display recorded for his wife on my smart phone, soon to be sent to her.

I had, however, given him another gift that he had readily accepted. It had dried over the past hour, leaving his face caked with thick flakes of dried cum, purposefully gushed all of him by myself, announcing his status as a cocksucker to anybody who cared to look.

Caroline had recorded this part, and I checked it in the back of the Rolls, listening and watching myself. What a beautiful cock I had! Rubbing it across my driver's face after he had cum himself, it was a prideful thing and ready to mark him in the most intimate of ways.

Already broken in, he had accepted it with greedy lust, knowing that his wife would see this as well, but no longer caring, wanting only what it was in front of him, as the best whores do.

"Mmmf," he gobbled around the pierced crown as it thrust past his lips, the rest to follow quickly, without any mercy.

"Worship, cock whore," I snarled from above him.

"Mmmf!"

I didn't intend for him to have any physical pleasure from having my cock inside him, and so I began to reach around with both hands, held him in a steel grip and forced his entire head to become a cunt for me, pushing it back and forth with ferocity, his skull no longer a home to his mind, only another hole to be filled by my cock, thrusting deeper and deeper until it reached his throat, making him gag and desperately continuing to breathe.

"Mmmf! Mmmf! Mmmf!"

"Fuck his mouth," came Caroline's voice, not so much an order but a gleeful plea to me, now recorded for posterity. "Fuck, yes, that faggot whore knows how to take it, doesn't he?"

"Faggot knows his place, now," I growled, before mercilessly ripping at his hair, forcing a silent scream out of him that opened the gaping hole for me even further, tears welling up.

His entire skull seemed to shrink, until only that hole and my cock to fill it remained, and that thought, exquisite and all mine, made my balls tighten up, an orgasmic flood burning in them, aching to be released into the open and breeding any kind of whore that they would touch.

"Don't you?" you could hear my voice on the recording. "Know that place of yours, now? Open up, filth! Open wide!"

Caroline made sure to catch it, that moment, made sure that my face was visible when it flooded over me like an electrical, violent current, beginning deep inside me and then spreading out across the entire body. Throwing back my head, my hands clutching both sides of Andrew's head, impaling his worthless skull on my cock.

And I roared. While my cock pumped into him, flooded his mouth and throat with my essence, I threw back my head and roared at the sky, grey and cold, while Andrew began to choke on everything I was giving to him, far too much for him to take, it flushed back around my shaft and dribbled out of both corners of his mouth.

Caroline and I watched the scene as we arrived at the hotel, giggling and laughing like two school girls, digitally rewinding to that moment again and again.

She didn't notice it, then, of course.

If she had not been giggling and enjoying her newfound decadence, she might have, but she was so much caught in the moment that she didn't.

That for a single moment, the digital image of myself was flickering. And if she had stopped at an exact moment, right at the beginning of my lustful roars, she would have seen it.

Cumming always does that, which is why control was a necessity.

She wouldn't have understood that, my sweet, sweet Caroline. Not so soon, not that quickly, and she would need a lot of time to accept her own depravity before I would be able to reveal what could be seen, in that one flicker, on the digital display in my hand.

"Weird," said Caroline next to me, "It looks like a glitch or something. Like the camera was not focusing the right way."

"Technology," I said, sounding amused. "Can't even trust the fuckers to get a good view of a girl about to cum."

"Weird," Caroline repeated.

"Don't bother with it, darling," I told her and took the smart phone from her hands, rewinding the footage myself. Yes. There it was.

Unmistakable. The thing that I didn't wanted Caroline to see just yet.

Not wanted her to see until her soul would be much darker.

III.

It still hadn't darkened enough, that wicked soul of hers, not even now as she was suckling down on my engorged cock as she did every morning, getting her first feast of the day.

She was much better at taking it, though, much better than the others we had tortured and punished with pleasure in those past few weeks, allowing her to test both their limits and her own.

"Give it to me, Mistress," she moaned around my cock. "Soil my whore mouth with your cum, mmmmh. That thick, sweet cum."

"Can't get enough of it, can you?" I asked with a sneer.

"Never!" she said, pumping her fist around the base of my shaft."I could eat it with a fucking spoon on cornflakes!"

"Now, don't be greedy," I warned her. "Today is a big day."

"Every day with you is a big day, Mistress," she moaned. "And you know I am a fucking greedy slut! You made me this way!"

"I did, didn't I?" I laughed.

It was not raw or animalistic, this cum. It was a gift, controlled and coming out in only the smallest of doses. But she lapped it up, my filthy companion, my whore, my work in progress, licked it up from my widening piss slit.

"Mmmmh!" she exclaimed. "Tastes better every time!"

Caroline smeared the rest of the overflow around her lips, giving me a cum-filled grin that turned what had once been an innocent girl's face into a beautifully monstrous mask of maddened lust.

"Is everything ready for tonight?" I asked her.

"I made sure of it, Mistress," she purred. "Granted, James was a great help, but you know how it is. Men! Can't do anything proper, unless you put a boot up their asses."

"Oh, did you, darling?"

She beamed proudly.

"Made sure it was a thin heel, too!"

We both laughed.

"That must have hurt him," I said, gleefully. I more ways than one, I thought silently and with devilish pleasure. Having been the master of the mansion, only to be replaced by one of the lowest whores, that must have hurt him. Good.

"He looked rather not pleased at first," Caroline admitted. "But you know how they are, cocksuckers, all of them. You put anything into their shit holes long enough, they'll thank you for it, later."

IV.

"Thank you," Andrew had said as we relieved him off his duties for the day, and I am certain it wasn't the only thing he had been thankful for. And that gratitude, or so I hoped, would only grow. I pressed the button on my phone that would allow his wife to see his true self. I had attached a message with the file, telling her to call me.

This would be fun!

"Not really what I expected, Mistress," said Caroline at my side.

"London?"

"You."

"There were expectations of me, then?" I said.

"Yes," Caroline said. "There were...rumors."

I laughed.

"And they are all true," I said, letting the laughter die slowly in the back of my throat.

"No," said Caroline. "None of them are."

"So?"

"They said that you were considerably weaker than your mother."

"Oh."

"That you would never live up to her depravity," said Caroline.

"Is that so?" I asked.

"No, Mistress," said Caroline.

We reached the reception, and I smiled as sweetly as I could at the man working there, for this is something one must remember. Respect, my darlings. You can use and abuse your slaves, but when in public, show them respect. Especially those who live to serve.

"S. T. Lesslie," I told the receptionist. "You have been expecting me."

The receptionist, a darling man of young, boyish features, looked at his computer and nodded when he found my reservation, together with a list of quite unusual requirements.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Here you are. We are still processing some of your requests, Ma'am, but most of what you have asked for has already arrived."

"Mistress?" asked Caroline, unsure of what would be expecting her.

"Not to worry," I told both her and the receptionist. "It was a rather short time for you, darling. I do expect it all to be delivered by the end of the business day, though."

"That will be no problem, Ma'am", said the receptionist.

He snapped his fingers. A small army of bellboys appeared out of nowhere. Ready to take the small mountain of suitcases and boxes up to the penthouse suite I had booked for Caroline and me.

"Would you like one of them?" I asked Caroline.

Caroline stared. First at the bellboys, then at me.

"All of them," she laughed.

"Slut!" I said, but laughed just as well.

"You will make sure my pet here is comfortable, right?" I asked the receptionist, phrasing an order as a question, but knowing the answer already. He nodded.

"We are well known for our quality of service," the receptionist said. "All of the Houses have never complained. We are quite discreet. In fact, we have the head of another House grace our establishment with her presence at this moment, and -"

"Which one?" I asked.

"Ma'am?"

"Which House is frequenting you at this moment?"

"The House of Mann, Ma'am. The Baroness has been staying with us for the past week in order to conduct her business in London."

The receptionist smiled.

"She has also requested some of our more...unusual services," he said.

"Oh," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Did she, now?"

"We are rather proud to have been the preferred choice for the Houses in London, Ma'am," the receptionist said. "Anything we can do, we do. And there is nothing we cannot do."

"Please give a message to the Baroness, then," I said.

"Yes, Ma'am. And what shall be its contents?"

"That the new Mistress of the House of Lesslie would be pleased, if she were to have dinner with the Baroness tonight. Be a dear and do that for me, will you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Come along, darling," I said to Caroline. All around us, the hotel was cultured decadence, with old chairs and couches in its lobby, imported and in some cased stolen from foreign countries, as a testament to the power and reach that those had who gathered here. I owned the hotel. Not all of it, mind you, but the fair share that belonged to the House of Lesslie since all Houses had come together to found and fund this rather private retreat. "Let me show you the rooms."

Caroline followed obediently.

"Mistress?" she asked as we made our way to the elevators. "May I ask you something?"

"Anything, darling," I said.

"The Baroness?" Caroline asked.

"Her name is Elsa," I said. "One might call her an old family friend. That is, if my family had friends. And we don't. We have... well, we have relations. It is complicated, darling."

"He said that she was -"

"The Mistress of the House of Mann, yes."

"There are more Houses, Mistress?"

"Oh, yes," I said. "Twelve, to be exact."

"I didn't know."

"We try to keep...separate from each other, darling, most of the time."

"Oh," Caroline said.

"Nothing you need to worry about," I said. "At least not just yet."

"Is she... like you, Mistress?"

The elevator opened up in front of us, seventeen floors to the penthouse, not enough time to fully explain my sweet Caroline exactly what was on my mind.

"She is like me, yes," I said. "And like mother."

"Will I meet her?"

"Unfortunately," I said, "yes, you will."