Trust Fund Baby Pt. 12

I tried to explain to my uncle that I was in love with Madison, but he was unmoved.

"Peter, my boy," he began as if he were my father, "you are a handsome multi-millionaire. You can have your pick of the litter. Why waste your time on that washed-up bitch?"

I knew he was right but I couldn't suppress my feelings for Madison, and I wanted her in my life. I had laid a makeshift bed on the floor at the foot of my huge King-sized bed, the inference being that Madison would sleep there that night.

However, as I stood in the bathroom doorway brushing my teeth, I observed Madison trying to get comfortable on her side, unable to lie on her back due to her tender asshole. I watched her wince a couple of times as she tentatively searched for a painless sleeping position, and my heart softened towards her. She may have been a manipulative, materialistic bitch, but she had also been my first proper sexual partner, and I still had a soft spot for her. For this reason, I invited her to join me in the comfort of my oversized bed.

As she climbed into my bed, in her pink silk pajamas, I spooned her and inhaled the intoxicating scent of her perfume. She rested her feet against mine, her soft skin reminding me of her femininity. We chatted before we dozed off, and as we touched on some pretty raw memories, Madison asked me something that had been bothering her since that fateful night at Baldwin's.

"Did you jerk off on me when I was laying face down in the shower at Baldwin's?" she asked. "Steve told me you did, but I need to hear it from you."

"No, Madison," I assured her. "I didn't participate in that impromptu Bukkake session. I have too much respect for you to do something like that."

As we chatted I knew I had to let Madison know that Olivia was currently living with me. She had gone to a local bar to see a punk band, but in the morning the two of them would come face to face, and I needed to manage Madison's expectations. I should have told her there and then, but being a man I was averse to any unnecessary confrontation with women, and decided to address it in the morning.

Sometime in the night, I awoke with a hard-on, as was often the case when I was around Madison. I was lying on my side, and I reached over to touch her, for no other reason than to make sure that she was warm enough.

As I moved my body towards her, I felt my cock inside something warm and moist, and I realized that her head was down at my waist level, and she had put her lips on me. Madison put her arm around my waist, and placed her manicured hand on my butt-cheek, pulling me into her mouth, and encouraging me to fuck her face. I hadn't been in a lot of relationships, but I knew from talking to friends that were coupled up, that Madison was offering me an unconditional release, with no expectation of reciprocation. I also knew from these same friends, that these opportunities were few and far between, and to take them while they were available.

A few moments later, as she remained passively on her side, providing me with a warm fuck-hole to ejaculate into, I blew my load down her throat, closed my eyes, and drifted off back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, Madison waited until after I had taken my morning piss, and as I shook the drips from my cock, she entered my bathroom.

She was wearing a beautiful yellow silk chemise, with matching panties and high-heels, and she had taken the time to do her makeup and hair impeccably. My cock began to stiffen and slowly rise, the second I saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror. By the time I had noticed the finishing touches, I was hard. Madison had glossed her lips a lovely shade of pastel yellow, she had tied a very feminine silk bow in her hair, and had painted two yellow hearts on her cheekbones, just below her beautiful blue eyes.

She knelt down by the side of the toilet, and looked up at me with her practiced innocence, maintaining eye-contact with me as she spoke.

"I want you to come on my face, Pete," she cooed. "Aim for the hearts. I put them there as a target for you."

As a nineteen year old guy, I watched a lot of online porn, and the soft-porn genre was one of my favorites. Typically depicting girls that were just of legal age, these movies focused on the innocence of these angelic-looking, often extremely beautiful teenagers, as they engaged in sensual sex-acts while dressed very femininely. Ribbons in their hair, makeup done to accentuate their youthfulness, the girls would kneel before their boyfriend, and look up seductively at the camera.

As Madison mirrored their movements, she looked every bit the Newport Beach fuck-toy. She closed her lips around the tip of my cock, and as my lust started to overwhelm me, I began to rock my hips to fuck her face. I found her so fucking irresistible, and a few seconds later, as she tilted her face back and invited me to come on it, I blew my load all over her the yellow heart on the left side of her face, completely destroying her makeup in the process.

I was a nineteen year old kid. Sure, I possessed the physical attributes of a man, but when I was in the company of real men, I stood out as a boy. As such, I had simple needs, and Madison fulfilled them. I wanted to have a relationship free of conflict, a warm bed to sleep in, a full stomach most of the time, and most of all, someone that made my cock hard, and kept my nuts drained.

Everything else I did, or owned, was for the purpose of sexual fulfillment. My four million dollar ocean-front condo, was to impress women, and to entice them into giving me sex. Ditto, my four hundred thousand dollar Lamborghini and all of my other toys. If I could stay home with Madison, fucking and sucking our way through the day, everything else became superfluous. She could induce such earth-shattering orgasms from me, time and time again, that nothing else really mattered.

As lunchtime approached, I heard Olivia stir in her own bedroom, and decided the time was right to inform Madison that Olivia lived with me. There was no easy way to say it, so I just blurted it out.

"Madison," I began, cognizant of the fact that she was close to a mental breakdown herself. "When Olivia returned here after her stay at Baldwin's, she was in a terrible state emotionally and physically, and I nursed her back to health."

"Are you fucking that skank?" Madison asked aggressively, her temper flaring immediately at the mere mention of Olivia's name.

"That is none of your business anymore," I said, trying to keep things calm. "However, we are living together now, and I expect you to respect our relationship."

"I can't stand that bitch," Madison responded angrily. "She's a cunt."

"I don't need you to like her, Madison," I said firmly. "But you will respect her as lady of the house. My priorities have changed and protecting Olivia is now my primary focus."

"Respect her?" Madison asked. "What does that entail exactly?"

"That will be for Olivia to decide," I said quietly. "You will be expected to obey her if you want to live here. If that is going to be a problem, I will run you to the local homeless shelter or check you into a mental health facility, if that is your preference."

"Please," Madison begged, "don't throw me away, Pete. I am very fragile right now and I don't want to have another mental breakdown."

Madison had shared the details of her past relationships with me, and I knew that she had been committed to a mental institution in the past, after a failed relationship with a sadistic lawyer, who had forced her to dance at a local strip-club to pay her way. For this reason, I chose my words carefully.

"The conditions are simple, Madison," I said quietly. "In exchange for a safe living environment, I need you to respect and obey Olivia. Quite what that entails I can't be sure, but you need to do exactly what she says."

As Madison softened her stance, agreeing in principle to playing second fiddle to Olivia, I decided it was time to bring the younger girl up to speed. Olivia was understandably surprised to hear that I was considering allowing Madison back into the fold, but as we talked about the mechanics of the relationship, she began to assert herself.

"I am willing to consider it," she said, much to my relief. "However, you made me some promises, and I need to know if you plan to honor them."

As we hashed out the plan, it became apparent that in order to make Olivia feel secure, I needed to disregard Madison's needs and concerns, and surprisingly I was fine with that.

"Ok," I said, "let's go and tell Madison the new rules. She is waiting for us in the master bedroom."

In a move that both surprised and impressed me, Olivia went into her walk-in closet and emerged holding a whistle.

"Let's have her come to us," she said firmly, as she put the whistle to her lips.

"I love you, Olivia," I said quietly. "And I support your every decision."

With my priorities clearly stated, Olivia put the whistle to her lips, and blew firmly into it. The resultant blast was much louder than I had anticipated, and reverberated around my condominium. It would have been impossible to ignore, however deep in the recesses of my home you were hiding.

I knew that Madison had heard the whistle blast, and with the changing of the guard, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the significance of the shrill noise. This was the first test of wills between the two young women, and while I didn't expect Madison to capitulate immediately without any resistance, I didn't want a protracted struggle for power between the two of them.

It was a relief when Madison appeared at the doorway, albeit twenty seconds after being summoned.

"Let's try that again," Olivia said firmly. "Go to your room."

Madison rolled her eyes and turned her back on Olivia and I, before casually walking down the hallway, and I prepared for the worst, a lengthy battle between them. Olivia waited several minutes before blowing the whistle again, and this time Madison appeared in a more reasonable time-frame, standing in the doorway with her arms folded.

"I was hoping that we could get through this without unnecessary acrimony," Olivia said dispassionately. "However, if you wish to play hardball, so be it."

"Get naked and kneel on the garage floor," Olivia instructed. "I have designated a place for you. I will be back shortly."

Madison left the room quietly, and I heard the door to my garage open, which was a good sign.

"I need to go and get a few things to accelerate this process," Olivia informed me. "Can I use your truck?"

After giving her my consent, I heard the electric garage door open and Olivia sped down my driveway. My curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't resist peeking into the garage. Madison was on her knees, naked in the middle of a kids' inflatable paddling pool. The blue plastic pool was about six feet in diameter, just large enough for an adult to lie in it, and I initially thought that Olivia had used it to provide some relief from kneeling on a cold cement floor.

The garage door was still wide-open, and while I don't have much through-traffic in front of my house, it would have made for a very awkward moment had the Amazon delivery guy arrived with a package, and witnessed a young, naked female kneeling in my garage. For this reason, I closed the garage door and went about my business.

About an hour later Olivia came home, her return announced by the garage door as it whirred open. I walked towards the garage, and as I entered it I was accosted by the sight of Olivia brandishing a fearsome-looking dog collar, waving it threateningly in Madison's face.

The thing was massive, way bigger than any dog collar I had ever seen before. In fact, at nearly three inches tall, it seemed more appropriately sized for a bear, or a lion.

"Last chance," Olivia said ominously. "You don't want to do this, believe me," she warned.

Madison flashed Olivia a defiant stare as the younger girl affixed the huge collar around her neck. Once in place, the height of it forced Madison's chin skyward, acting like a posture collar, in addition to its primary function, which I was just starting to figure out was to shock the wearer into submission.

Olivia raised the remote to Madison's face, and gave her one final warning.

"You are going to fear this remote, the way I dreaded the rattan cane," she said quietly. "The only difference is your terror will be immediate, and not take nine weeks, the way mine did. Lay face-down in the swimming pool."

Madison's indifference to the threat of physical pain seemed to infuriate Olivia, and the second Madison was prone, Olivia fired up the remote.

What happened next was the most disturbing thing I had ever witnessed. Madison let out a howl of anguish, stiffened up involuntarily, and then began to thrash around in the pool, convulsing as if she was having a seizure. Almost simultaneously, Madison vacated her bladder and her bowels, soiling herself in the process.

"That is the reason for the paddling pool," Olivia said, matter of factly.

"Jesus, Olivia," I muttered fearfully, "I think you are going to kill her."

"No fear of that," Olivia responded. "Despite the intense pain and total loss of muscle control, the main risk to her health is choking on her own vomit, which is why I instructed her to lay face down."

Olivia's blasé attitude calmed me down a little, although as Madison went through the next phase of her excruciating attitude adjustment, my fears resurfaced. Madison's hands balled up into tight fists, and her toes curled inward as her body fought the electrical charge as it exited through her extremities. Seconds later, as her entire body was wracked with spasms, she passed out. I had never witnessed anything so profoundly disturbing, the closest thing being watching a perpetrator getting zapped by a taser, on a episode of Cops.

"Remove the shock collar and put her in the recovery position," Olivia instructed me. "It will take her a few minutes to be able to stand and I want her to be alone with her thoughts when she wakes up."

Madison was already in the prone position, so I moved her knee up slightly to prevent her from rolling over, removed the large collar, and placed one of her arms under her head to keep her airwaves open. She was out cold, breathing of her own volition, but unconscious. On further instruction from Olivia, I draped the collar over the side of the paddling pool, intending it to be one of the first things she saw when she regained consciousness. I was reluctant to leave her there but Olivia was adamant, so I followed her out of the garage.

"It is important that she wake up alone," Olivia informed me. "Initially she will be unsure of her whereabouts, she will have lost track of time, she will struggle to remember quite how she got there. When she sees the shock collar and realizes that she is lying in a puddle of her own waste, she will get the message that I am not to be trifled with."

"Where the hell did you get that monstrosity, Olivia?" I asked, fearful of her response.

"Military surplus store," she responded. "Although classified as a non-lethal restraint, the military has banned its use on humans, and it is now used exclusively for K-9 training. Some of the more aggressive breeds that the military use become unresponsive to normal corrective measures, particularly if they are involved in a fight with another dog. The K-9 units wear the collars when they work crowd control at soccer matches too, in case they become overly aggressive in the excitement. This device is voice-activated too," she added, "although I need to learn the German phrases to activate it."

I shuddered as I imagined a corrective device so powerful, that it could stop a pair of one hundred and thirty pound Rottweilers from fighting. I assume that the voice-activated commands were in a foreign language, to prevent enemy combatants, or football hooligans, from incapacitating the dog while it was working.

"The best thing about the shock collar is that it can be reused after a short recovery period," Olivia continued. "I don't have the luxury of time to adjust Madison's attitude and behavior. I could go in there right now, wake that bitch up, and light her up again. Not that this will be necessary," she said confidently. "Trust me."

As we sat chatting, waiting for Madison to regain her senses, Olivia elaborated on her treatment at the hands of Madison and Baldwin. They had whipped her regularly with the rattan cane, creating a deep-rooted fear within her of that particular instrument of torture.

"It took weeks for them to force me into total compliance," she said proudly. "I knew they weren't prepared to injure me permanently, or beat me so bad that I need to be hospitalized, which would alert the authorities to their mistreatment of me. So, they had to wait a few days between thrashings, to let the old welts subside. This allowed me time to build some mental resolve and increased the time it took to actually break me. With the shock collar, I could zap Madison every thirty minutes until she begged to be my slave."

I could see the hate in Olivia's eyes as she discussed her torment at the hands of her captors, and I feared for Madison's safety and mental well-being, if Olivia's behavior was allowed to go unchecked. When I broached the subject, I was pleased with her response, especially as it seemed genuine.

"I don't want to inflict unnecessary pain or injury upon Madison," she assured me. "Most of her cruelty towards me, was at the behest of that sadistic prick, Baldwin. He is the one who constructed a sound-proofed punishment room in his house, for fuck's sake. I just want Madison to be my house-maid," she added. "A docile, obedient pet, intent on serving my every need. Of course, I plan to strip her of her femininity and sexual allure in the process. By the time I am done with her, she will be invisible to all but the most desperate of men. And I may allow those dregs of society to enjoy her occasionally," she said ominously.

About an hour later I heard the rear door of the garage open, and then my outdoor shower running.

"Should we check on her?" I asked tentatively.

"Let her come to us," Olivia assured me. "Like an errant puppy who has just been disciplined."

The outdoor shower ran for a long time, which was surprising considering that it only dispensed cold water. Madison was evidently washing her shame from her body, as well as her urine and excrement, and when she appeared at the utility room window, soaking wet, and shivering from the extended exposure to cold water, she looked pitiful.

"Let her in, Pete," Olivia said quietly. "Tell her she may shower before she makes us lunch."

It was a different woman that emerged from the side yard of my condominium, and as I handed her a large towel, she flashed me a look of genuine appreciation.

"Take a hot shower Madison," I instructed her. "Olivia and I are ready to be served lunch."

"Understood, Pete," she said humbly, as she concealed herself with the towel and limped gingerly towards the door.

Olivia had joined us now, wearing a look of smug satisfaction at the apparent immediate changes in Madison's attitude.

"Use the guest bathroom from now on," Olivia ordered her. "There are some generic hair products in there for you."

Madison, cognizant of the fact that she was being denied access to her favorite beauty products, lowered her head and scurried out of the room. As she showered, Olivia gathered up all of Madison's shampoo, conditioner, make-up, lotions, and perfumes and stuffed them into a large trash bag.

"We will donate these to the charity shop," she said cheerfully. "Madison is going to be a real plain Jane by the time I am finished."

Olivia left a pair of grey Walmart sweats on the countertop of the guest bathroom, along with a matching sweatshirt. The tags were still attached, which was to allow Madison to comprehend the fact that her entire outfit was worth less than sixteen dollars, rather than to provide her the opportunity to return the unflattering garments for a cash refund. I heard Olivia instruct Madison to wear only the clothes provided, and to dispense with her usual beauty regimen, as we were both hungry.