Date: Sat, 01 Feb 2003 00:40:51 -0600 From: Leldon McLane Subject: The Revelation of Roseshannon Chapter One This story contains graphic d/s scenes between women. Do not read if you are under legal age, or if such exposure violates the community standards where you live, of if you feel such material might offend your sensibilities. The Revelation of Roseshannon by Leldon McLane CHAPTER ONE Assault and Aftermath Roseshannon sipped her coffee as she stared out the window at the beautiful rolling acres of her country home. Her life was perfect, she had accomplished everything she set out to do, a rich husband, a fabulous home, a host of friends and well-wishers, a beautiful daughter, but she had yet to experience the joy and happiness that was supposed to come with such complete fulfillment of the American dream. She thought about a time as a child she was given a hand-me- down dress from a cousin and she had been unable to contain her excitement every opportunity she had to wear it. Contrasted with the dull and empty feelings she experienced today as she surveyed her teeming closets of fabulous designer dresses and bureaus stuffed with every conceivable type of lingerie, she wondered when the happiness was supposed to begin. Maybe it was just a matter of age, Roseshannon mused. Perhaps the possession of things of paramount importance to a child meant very little to an adult. Her window looked down at the huge swimming pool landscaped at an exorbitant price to appear like a stone quarry lagoon. Zeta, her thirteen-year-old daughter, was sunning herself on a polished surfboard in the middle of the pool. Why was her gaze drawn so magnetically to the burgeoning sexuality of her own daughter? Was that some natural curiosity when a daughter reached that level of physical development? Did all mothers obsess about their daughters bulging breasts and flaring hips? Roseshannon was perplexed because she had never felt the slightest sexual inclination for another female, in fact, she had never felt the slightest sexual inclination whatsoever. Certainly not for her own daughter. Zeta was wearing a tiny bikini bought by her father that probably cost more than Roseshannon's father had earned in any one year of his short life, yet Roseshannon had never seen a trace of joy on the face of her child. Utterly extravagant presents were accepted as a matter of fact as though it was nothing more than her due. The joy of possession was not a matter of age in Zeta's case. Maybe the crux of the matter was in the difficulty involved in the acquisition. Roseshannon realized that Robert, her usually absent husband, seemed to contradict this concept. Even with all his easily acquired, inherited wealth, he was driven by some inner desperation to acquire more and more. The contradiction could be only apparent, perhaps having acquired great wealth through no effort, he felt compelled to increase it to reassure himself that he deserved it. Maybe he was not happy but he was very occupied. Yet it was not merely things Robert was driven to acquire; he seemed mostly concerned with power. His primary source of amusement was to have senators and congressmen call him to ask how they were expected to vote on certain issues, not that he was some expert on the far reaching repercussions of government policy but because he had supplied the money required for their election in the first place. He enjoyed the feeling of power when he helped divert government wealth from programs for inner city kids to another anti-missile missile system that would be obsolete by the time it was built. This pastime was expensive and his days and nights were spent in an unceasing search for ways to accumulate more wealth. Yet he was not driven to assure prosperity for posterity, he had only one skinny little daughter as an heir and she had certainly not inherited any of his lust for acquisition. He had no other progeny because the sex life of Roseshannon and Robert had barely survived their first year of marriage. Neither seemed very concerned about this missing aspect of their lives. Robert exhausted most of his prodigious energies in his accumulations of wealth; Roseshannon had never had much sexual interest to begin with. Sex she had participated in only when deemed necessary to gain some imagined end and she had always been thankful that she had not been afflicted by the need for love and sexual fulfillment like some of her high school friends. Most had fallen in love with the first boy who managed to get his dick in their pussies and had spent most of their youth chained to first a diaper pail and then a minivan hauling children around to their myriad activities. Some had even married so badly that they had to work outside the home to help support the family. Roseshannon, whose father had been a construction worker and mother a seamstress, could not have endured such a life, to get up early every morning and report somewhere to be told what to do all day. She thought she would be repelled by the idea of having a boss. She heard a muffled knock at her door and Helga, her housekeeper, entered bearing a pure silver percolator. "Would you like a little more coffee, Miz Roseshannon?" Helga was a big woman, right at six feet tall with huge, bullet-shaped, double D breasts. However, she now dressed so severely with such straight cut dresses that her small waist was hidden, giving the impression that she was thick- waisted. She had no regard for appearing attractive. With her hair in a tight knot at her neck, the tall housekeeper exuded confidence born of extreme competence. She had an austere, judgmental countenance that most people found completely intimidating. "I probably would have enjoyed it more a half-hour ago when it was fresh. What do I need to do to get a little attention around here, install a bell tower?" Roseshannon said hatefully. She knew she was doing it again, allowing her general displeasure to bring out the bitch in her but what did it matter? Was she supposed to step lightly around the feelings of servants? What did anything matter when she was bogged down in such a morass of discontent? Helga stifled her resentment and poured the coffee. The buxom housekeeper had worked in this house for this family all her life. She was here when Robert married this ill- natured gold digger and Helga had learned to tolerate her moodiness. When in one of her black moods, Miz Roseshannon at times seemed fascinated by her great bosom and the woman was staring at her tits now with rapt attention. Helga did not know what to make of it, the woman seemed unaware of what she was doing. She approached her with her coffee and Roseshannon never raised her eyes above the jutting protrusions of her breasts. Helga purposefully stood close enough to torment the woman. She could see out the window by bending down. "Looks like Zeta is working on her tan again, Lord, she's already brown as a berry." She purposely pushed her great breast snugly against Roseshannon's hand resting on the back of her chair, A visible jolt passed through the woman but she did not move her hand, neither to increase the contact nor diminish it; she merely endured it without acknowledging to herself the tantalizing tingles dancing up and down her arm from the point of contact. Helga maintained the contact for a while, moving her ample breast slightly over the back of the hand. Would Roseshannon finally do something about her apparent fascination? When she would not, Helga excused herself and left the room. Still rather nervous about why Helga had stood so close, so intimidating; and why had she pushed her huge breast against her hand? Sure, she was looking at her breasts, she couldn't see anything else when Helga was in the room, they were like the bumpers of a 55 Buick. "Omigod! Did she think because I was looking at them that I wanted to touch them? How embarrassing that she would leap to such a conclusion." Roseshannon thought with some alarm but soon dismissed it because she really did not care about the housekeeper's presumptions. Roseshannon decided to go for a drive to get her mind off her current apathy. She felt a slight tremor of excitement as she opened up the powerful sports car along the deserted road leading across rich farmland owned by her husband's family for several generations. Then she saw the flashing lights of a patrol car bearing down on her in the rearview mirror. Her speedometer needle was close to eighty she realized in panic. She slowed rapidly and pulled off the road, preparing for a stern lecture from the unfamiliar state trooper. With some consternation she saw the trooper was a female. She might have been able to flirt her way out of a ticket otherwise. "Is this your car, Lady, or your pimp's?" Shirley, the policewoman asked by way of a cordial opening. She had been recently transferred because of several openings in the Sheriff's department and was pulling double duty for most of the week. She was very tired and this primadonna tooling around in her obscenely expensive car just grated on her nerves. Her competitive nature compelled her to bring the woman down a notch or two. Being in too bad a mood to put up with such a crude remark, Roseshannon reacted with a disparaging comment about cops who felt safer harassing honest citizens than looking for real criminals who might prove dangerous. Roseshannon would have been a bunch better off not to have adopted such a haughty attitude. A mild case of invidious comparison erupted into unconcealed animosity as the policewoman made her get out of the car and lean against it with her legs spread. "But I didn't do anything!" She protested, "Do you treat everyone like a convicted serial killer?" Roseshannon was glad she had on her nice business pantsuit but wished she had bothered to put on her panties before she left. The routine search for weapons was being conducted with such avid fervor around her hips and buttocks that the policewoman was bound to notice their absence. Such a development filled her with as much panic as the unconcealed hostility of the search. "Do you get turned on by feeling up other women?" She asked daringly. She wanted to ask about the policewoman's mother's marital status at the time of her conception but she controlled the impulse. Sarcasm was a defense caused by the feeling of mild terror that Roseshannon experienced as a result of the cop's animosity. She had very little experience in dealing with disapproval. Taking the comment as a suggestion, the female cop began to rub her hands over the protruding, rounded ass cheeks. She also rubbed around her hips and the tops of her thighs and finally she came back to delve deeply between the prominent ass cheeks, noticing the rapid increase in breathing. Moving her hands to just above the knees, she forced the legs apart and pulled them back from the car causing Roseshannon to be leaning with her back nearly level, her ass jutting out enticingly. Shirley squatted slightly to bring her prominent pelvic mound up under the jutting ass cheeks and began to hump Roseshannon's lovely buttocks so fiercely that she was lifting the woman up with each thrust. Roseshannon endured the ignominy of being butt fucked, trying to control her rapid breathing even as she tried to widen her stance to increase the contact against her pussy. Her excitement was evident as she let the policewoman have her way with her. "If you were wearing a skirt I could just flip it up and really do your ass good. You really like having your butt bumped by a strong woman, don't you? Squat down a little so I can bump your big pussy. Yeah, that's a good girl. Maybe I should spank you for not wearing a skirt?" The suggestion electrified Roseshannon who had trouble recognizing her rising desire, certainly incapable of admitting the pulsating feelings caused by such a depraved notion. "No, please don't. I'm afraid you would hurt me, you are much too strong." She declared immediately, and then relented, "but if you want to punish me for wearing pants, there's not much I could do to stop you." The policewoman had just been playing with the woman, seeing how far she could go without committing a criminal act herself. This last comment seemed to open a plethora of doors. Holding her with her left hand at the front of her slacks, she brought her right hand crashing against the gorgeously rounded behind of the recalcitrant Roseshannon. There was no reaction of outrage as the policewoman expected. With but a whimper of protest, she stood perfectly still waiting for the next blow to fall. Roseshannon's eyes were clenched shut and she hoped a submissive attitude would ingratiate herself with this aggressive woman and diffuse her hostility. But the lady cop was only encouraged to really vent her frustrations on the lust-inspiring, suddenly vulnerable ass. She slapped the unresisting ass several more times. Roseshannon thought with some self-disgust that she was doing everything but coo at the woman who was severely abusing her buttocks. "Your slacks are much too thick," the lady cop hissed, "lower them to your thighs." "Someone might see." Roseshannon protested weakly. "You are already hurting me enough for whatever reason you're doing this." "The road is deserted. Drop `em!" With tears of shame and abject confusion as to why she was tolerating this unwarranted treatment, Roseshannon unsnapped her slacks, slid down the zipper and arranged them around her thighs. Holding them in place with a widened stance, she leaned her hands back against the car. Deep within, she knew why she was accepting this degradation; she experienced an absolutely unexpected thrill to be treated like a naughty child. She squirmed in pleasure to have her ass bared and punished, but she struggled to deny it in her mind. For the first time in her life she felt sexual arousal, so much so she could hardly breathe. "And where are your panties? You disgusting little slut! Did you think I wanted to touch your nasty, naked ass with my hand?" "I didn't even know I was going to get a spanking." Roseshannon replied meekly, her efforts to mollify this aggressor causing her voice to assume the qualities of a little girl. Prompted by the woman's bizarre acquiescence, the lady cop rained a series of blows on the nude cheeks bereft of protection. The slaps cracked like gunfire in the still morning air, bringing forth a bright crimson to accent the white creamy roundness. Roseshannon endured the fiery pain by concentrating on her pussy that was teeming with hot juices. Surely the woman would feel the wetness. Surely it was splattering when Shirley struck a low blow. "Please stop. I can't take any more." Roseshannon cried as she dropped to her knees to move her ass away from any further punishment. The policewoman halted her hand in mid- swing and brought it to the back of the neck of the kneeling woman. She stepped forward pushing her hips as Roseshannon turned her face to meet the thrusting pelvis. The hand at her neck snuggled her face up against the crouch of the police pants. Amazed at her rising passion, she could not keep her tongue from reaching out to caress the rough fabric. Roseshannon struggled to shut her mind off what she was doing and concentrated completely on what she was feeling. "Now see what you've done by not wearing your panties? Press in closer and feel how wet you've made it." Roseshannon complied, inhaling deeply the pungent aroma and using her tongue to taste the exhilarating dampness. "Are you going to make me suck it?" She looked up in wonder at the trooper, unable to conceal the sound of hopeful request in her voice. "I will if you can stop licking long enough for me to get my pants down." "And your panties, too? I will suck your bare police pussy so you will see what a good girl I am and that I don't need any more spanking." Roseshannon withdrew slightly to give the woman room to undo her belt and zipper and push her pants down to mid-thigh, quickly followed by her white satin panties. Quickened by the sight of the risqu panties, Roseshannon did manage to chide, "Oh, I doubt if these are police issue." Her undeniable arousal forced her to lower her face to lick the wet crouch of the panties that were stretched between the full thighs. "I wear `em just in case I come across any queer women who can't control their urge to suck on a panty." Her mouth moved up to engulf and suck on the exposed, swollen cunt-lips, to caress the clitoris, and cause it to expand into her voracious, heated oral orifice. Roseshannon clung to the belief that she was not sucking the woman's cunt because she was a queer woman, but was forced to do it to avoid any further pain on her blistered backside. "Ohhh, you do that so well." Shirley gasped. Roseshannon's hands had pulled the outer lips apart and she was fluttering her tongue across the clit and inner lips as though painting them with her saliva. Then she would stiffen her tongue and pump it in and out of the woman's fuck hole. "Your pimp must be female. Does she let you have a little pussy only when you sell your ass successfully? I bet she's the one who taught you to enjoy a spanking, heh?" "I didn't enjoy any spanking, you beat me for your own satisfaction." Roseshannon interrupted her lingual caresses long enough to claim. Suddenly the policewoman's pussy began to convulse and copious quantities of pussy juice erupted into Roseshannon's mouth. She was aghast that she was letting the woman cum in her mouth but she could not stop slurping up the heady girl juice. The eruption inundated her senses and caused an equally violent, empathetic spasm in her own pussy as she sucked the juices greedily. Inexplicably, she thrust her hot tongue in deeper in a compulsive search for more. Mercifully, Roseshannon's mind went blank to blot out the guilt, allowing her to bask in the exhilaration she felt at being used so abjectly. "That was fantastic. You're such a nasty slut I'm going to stop you every time I see you and next time you better be wearing a skirt and a pretty pair of panties or you will be treated much worse, especially if I have to piss." The lady cop said as she straightened her uniform, returned to her cruiser, and sped away. Although she had participated in sex before, that strange event was the only time she had ever experienced anything sexual and Roseshannon never recovered from the things she had to admit about herself. Her abject, all-consuming surrender and the absolutely mind shattering orgasms left her with grievous doubt about all the things she had valued in life. Back home, even her relations with her domestic help were altered, causing her to become less demanding and more tolerant of their shortcomings. Her housekeeper especially benefited from this more relaxed attitude. However, as nature abhors a vacuum, Helga's naturally dominant attitude expanded in inverse proportion to Roseshannon's retrenchment. She had always enjoyed spanking Janet and Denise, the cleaning girls and had even abused the cook, Florence, on occasion when the infraction could be made to seem serious enough; but these acts had always been surreptitious without the knowledge or consent of her employers. As Roseshannon retreated from her role as head of the household, Helga became more open with her administrations of discipline. Many a breast was pinched severely and bottom was smacked soundly as Helga went about intently consolidating the malevolent expansion of her power. Helga began to grow to fit the role she seemed destined to fill by virtue of her awesome physical attributes. She began to exude an aura of authority and a commanding attitude that preempted everything except submission to her. With the sudden exposure of her own sexuality, Roseshannon realized that her former absence of lust was primarily responsible for her success in life. Instead of being used and used up in her burning need to belong to some high school boy, she had been able to methodically plot a campaign to snare a man of wealth and acquire a life of leisure. She had experienced the same neutral response to a rich man as she had with some guy working for wages. Of course she had to spend a lot of time maintaining the luscious curves of her trophy wife body but she had the time to spend and a gym equipped with every essential. Naturally she had been extremely well endowed to begin with but she had improved her physical appearance to a much higher level. If she had not married well, but still managed her rigorous regimen of diet and exercise, she could have easily become wealthy posing for centerfolds with her hugely thrusting breasts, narrow waist, taut washboard abs, lushly curving hips and long, sleekly toned legs; legs that could stop traffic for miles in a miniskirt. The change in attitude that resulted from her subjugation to the female cop even affected Roseshannon's relation to her daughter, which had never been much. Roseshannon had assumed that a child would bring some feeling of fulfillment when she first began to realize the emptiness of her life but such a consequence for her was by no means automatic. Maternal fulfillment depended on love for the child and Roseshannon could no more love Zeta than she could love Zeta's father. The little discipline that Roseshannon had bothered to instill in her daughter began to dissipate because her confidence had been submerged in such a sea of self-doubt. After Shirley, she felt unqualified to direct her own life, much less anyone else's. Zeta reacted to the vacuum in much the same way as Helga and the absence of maternal restraint gave her license to explore any avenue deemed of interest. She was at a point in life when her hormones raged relentlessly and she began to seek relief by emulating Helga in her treatment of the cleaning girls, but more interested in forcing them to be sexual objects than physically abusing them. When one would come in to wake her in the mornings, she would grab the girl's breasts and try to get her hand under her short skirt and into her panties. Both of the servant girls quickly learned that her temper was vastly improved if they allowed the girl a few liberties every morning. Both Janet and Denise adopted the habit of lowering their panties to mid- thigh before waking her, then standing passively while the girl amused herself under their skirts. Zeta did not attend school, she had a private tutor, Ms Preston, who was so straight-laced and uptight that she went to the bathroom to fart. Zeta loved to torment her. Although her face was attractive, she dressed in loose fitting clothes that made her seem gaunt and bereft of sexual appeal. "Zeta, stop that! I don't know what's gotten into you lately but you do not seem to be able to keep your hands to yourself. It is much too often to be accidental and, if this behavior does not cease, I will be forced to confront your mother." The tutor threatened one day when Zeta had induced her to bend over to review a paragraph and then grabbed a breast in each hand. She buried her face between the woman's surprisingly ample breasts, trying to insinuate her tongue into the cleavage. Ms Preston fumed and fussed as Zeta wrapped her arm around her girdled waist and brought her other hand up under Ms Preston's skirt. "Go ahead, I doubt if she gives any more of a shit than I do." Zeta replied confidently as she began to squeeze the woman's thighs above her stocking tops. The calm self assurance of the girl gave the tutor pause. Although painfully embarrassed to be fondled this way by a young girl, she could not quite summon the resolve to put an end to it. Instead she made a small effort to resist the restraining arm around her waist and managed to part her legs more and squat down slightly, unconsciously urging the small hand upward towards her passion starved pussy. The girl read the signs like an experienced seductress and worked her hand slowly up the woman's thighs until Ms Preston abandoned the appearance of resistance and stood passively, bearing all and barely able to breathe. The girdle ended at the tops of her thighs and had no crotch. Ms Preston almost swooned when the girl's fingers finally reached her pussy covered only by a thin panty. After working her pussy a while with the woman wildly humping against her hand, Zeta said, "Maybe I'll have to tell Mother about you letting me play with your pussy." "Oh, no, Zeta, this must always be our little secret. You like secrets, don't you?" "Yes, but this is not much of a secret, just my hand up your dress." "We could do more and make it a real secret. If you cross your heart and promise never to breathe it to a living soul, I'll even rub your little pussy for you." "All right. Let me up on the desk and you sit in the chair." Zeta agreed as she stood and turned to rest her ass on the edge of the desk, leading the woman to the chair with her hand on her waist. "Do you promise?" Ms Preston demanded as Zeta widened her thighs and lifted her skirt to the top of her panties. "Take my panties off and I will cross my heart and hope to die." She said as Ms Preston's eyes were riveted to her soaking wet crotch. The passive woman had transformed into eager aggressiveness as Zeta lifted her hips enough for her to pull the panties down and off her legs. "Why don't you kiss it for me then we'll have a real secret that can never be revealed?" Her mounting desire allowed the woman to conclude that she had gone too far to leave herself any options as she eagerly bent forward and tentatively licked the little cunt slit. "You need to get your tongue inside. Let me put my thighs over your shoulders." After that adjustment, Ms Preston had nothing but pussy in her vision and nothing but cunt on her mind. She placed her hands under the firm ass and lifted the little girl's pussy to her ravenous mouth and sucked it until Zeta screamed in mounting orgasms. When the girl lay back on the desk and pulled her legs up to her chest, Ms Preston could not keep her tongue out of the young asshole presented to her. "Lift your dress and take off your girdle." Zeta commanded when the woman stopped sucking her ass and lay back against the chair, exhausted. Simply obeying the young tyrant seemed by far the most rewarding policy so she complied. When the girdle was worked off along with her panties, Zeta grabbed the dress at the top of her ass to keep it from falling back into place and then nudged the woman around to lean over the desk. "You really need a spanking for your behavior today. Sucking a little girl's pussy and then reaming her asshole. Do you want me to call my mother in to do it, or Helga, or do you want me to?" >From her prone and vulnerable position, the woman realized the extent to which she had placed herself in the little girl's power. Zeta was not asking her anything, she was telling her what she was going to do to her. Ms Preston had never had a spanking in her life that she could remember, certainly not one with such rampantly sexual overtones. She clenched her buttocks together, steeling herself for unimaginable pain and mumbled for the girl to do it if it had to be done. Zeta began to spank the lovely curved buttocks and Ms Preston felt minor pain that was nothing compared to the stupendous re-ignition of her burning desires that matched the flaming crimson of her ass. "If you ever try to suck my pussy again, and you will, this is what you'll get." Ms Preston clenched her thighs together savagely in anticipation of all the spankings she was going to receive at the hands of this little girl. Ms Preston knew by committing these acts she would be powerless to resist their repetition, this little tyrant would use her like this any time she wanted. In the twinkling of an eye, she was reduced from a professional teacher to an avid cuntsucker and she embraced the change with uninhibited enthusiasm. Most of their school time was spent with Ms Preston trying to get the girl's skirts up to get at her pussy. Helga closely observed Roseshannon's changing personality, how she deferred to her daughter, ignored the house, and, most of all, the way she constantly devoured the buxom housekeeper's breasts regardless of her mood. To see how far she could push the woman, Helga affected very low cut blouses with no brassier. This was a major transformation in Helga who, since puberty, had always been overly conscious of her monstrous breasts and had taken utmost care to keep them as covered and immobile as possible. Roseshannon reacted more appreciatively than Helga had hoped and took every opportunity to sit beside her and lean into her huge mammaries. Helga began the welcome practice of bringing a warmed liqueur to Roseshannon at night to help her sleep. Then the housekeeper began to lie down in bed with her and comfort her by letting her gratefully snuggle her head against her giant bosom. One night she first bared her breasts by stretching down the bodice of her nightgown before lying down. This thrilled Roseshannon unbearably while she squirmed in anticipation and struggled to appear casual, as though nothing was unusual about the rearranged nightgown. She tried to appear unaware of the voluptuous mounds. Then, inevitably, her mouth found a large, tumescent nipple and she surrendered all pretense and sucked like a starving child. Eventually Roseshannon became highly addicted to sucking herself to sleep every night on the housekeeper's large tits. Helga would stay with her a long time after she was asleep, stimulating her pussy manually and causing her to mumble startling revelations in her sleep. One day Roseshannon, feeling neglectful of Zeta, bought an expensive bottle of perfume that she thought the girl would want but was, for some unexplained reason, not satisfactory and the girl had hurled the bottle against the wall. An explosion of rage had engulfed the mother and she lashed out with her hand and smacked the daughter's trim bottom through the thin layer of her baby doll pajamas. Zeta had become completely inconsolable and retreated to her room for several hours, intent upon escalating this conflict into an all out battle of wills, a battle she was determined to win. Helga seized the opportunity to secretly visit the girl and further encourage her rebellious spirit. When Zeta did not come downstairs, Roseshannon began to feel very uncomfortable. There were feelings of remorse for striking the child, but she imagined feelings of hatred emanating from the silent door of her daughter's room. And she had still managed to construct no psychological means of dealing with the disapproval of others. She softly entered the room with an attitude of abject apology. She found Zeta laying across her bed, still in her baby dolls. "I'm sorry I lost my temper but that perfume was very expensive, I could have returned it." Roseshannon explained in hopes of reconciliation. "You not only lost your temper, you spanked me! I am thirteen years old!" "It was only one little swat. Surely it did not hurt that much." "How would you know what it feels like to be beaten like a disobedient dog?" The daughter demanded, her teeth gnashing in anger. She reached back and slid down the panties of her baby dolls, "Look what you did to me!" She exhorted, as she revealed a faint tinge of pink in the shape of a handprint. Helga had applied a touch of rouge in the proper shape in a conspiracy far beyond Zeta's grasp. Helga had learned from the mother's late night verbal emissions that some bit of aggressive violence by another female had been responsible for the sudden change in her. The housekeeper was surreptitiously searching for ways to further diminish the mother's confidence. She wanted to fully explore the strange way the mother deferred to her daughter. "Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?" the mother asked, distraught by the evidence of her rage but strangely aroused by the sight of the firm young bottom that Zeta purposely left on display. Not that she was aware of any unique quirks in her mother, she simply wanted to reinforce the extent of the crime by continuing to display the carefully constructed evidence. "There is nothing you can do," Zeta sneered and then decided to try the outlandish suggestion of the wily housekeeper, "unless you will let me do the same thing to you to show you how it feels" The bizarre image invoked by the suggestion created sudden and unbearable feelings of arousal in the pit of Roseshannon's stomach and exploded into the depths of her increasingly lubricating pussy. "Don't be ridiculous," she objected, hoping to diffuse the exciting proposal, "a mother does not allow herself to be spanked by her daughter." "Fine, then. Just get out of my room." Zeta certainly had not expected the suggestion to work although she was painfully disappointed, having allowed herself to fantasize about spanking her mother. She had even imagined forcing her mother to take down her shorts and panties. She would graciously allow her to keep her clothes on, just lowered to where she could see the luscious posterior that she had lusted after ever since her hormones had begun exploding and especially since her mother had begun to exhibit submissive tendencies and to withdraw her efforts to control her daughter. As Roseshannon struggled to deny her raging arousal and force herself to turn and leave, Helga strolled into the room carrying a Polaroid camera. "What are you doing here?" She asked, puzzled by Helga's involvement. "She's going to take a picture to show my father what you've done." Zeta replied with a smirk at the implied threat. Roseshannon forgot her suspicions concerning Helga's involvement as she suddenly realized a way she could indulge in this exhilarating, depraved idea. She had no regard for the silly threat since her actions could be easily justified to Robert. However, she could pretend to fear the threat to conceal her own eagerness to submit to her daughter's demands, a daughter whose naturally dominant attitude had somehow endowed her with the proportions and dimensions of a female officer of the law! "Why don't you go ahead and let her do it?" Helga suggested as she moved close to her employer, brushing against her arm with her huge breasts. "Surely a woman with your well-padded posterior can absorb a swat or two from such a little slip of a girl and you don't want to risk upsetting Robert, do you?" Helga leaned into the woman and pushed her large breasts almost into her face, "Perhaps I can offer you a little comfort when it's over." With the additional promise of Helga's large breasts, Roseshannon surrendered to the lusts that rampaged her even though she left the impression she was yielding to the tacit threat of her daughter and the brilliant logic of the housekeeper. She walked hesitantly over to her daughter and laid down on the bed beside her. "Not with your shorts on. That really would hurt me more than it would you. You spanked me when I was virtually naked with just my thin baby dolls." "Let me take them down for you." Helga intervened. "Raise up your hips a little." When Roseshannon complied, Helga reached around her waist, undid the shorts, and yanked them down to mid-thigh along with her lacy panties, although everyone pretended not to notice the incongruity, the panties being much thinner than the daughter's baby dolls. Both the mother and the daughter were breathing heavily in anticipation of this intoxicating act. Helga was only aroused by the prospect of crushing the remaining confidence of the mother and driving her further into introspection and withdrawal. Roseshannon trembled when Zeta excitedly sat up in bed and placed her hand on her naked ass. Realizing that her mother actually had only one swat coming, Zeta wanted to prolong it. Although she expected her mother to angrily demand that she get this charade over with, the woman just lay on the bed in silent submission, moving nothing but her luscious ass which pressed slightly upward against the daughter's hand. Zeta's third finger curled downward exploring tentatively the sensuous crack only to see her mother's back arch slightly, raising her ass, causing the cheeks to spread a little more to accept the invasion. Unconsciously Zeta rotated her wrist fractionally and the finger felt the heat emanating from her mother's tight rosebud. Such open acceptance confounded Zeta who hardly dared to hope her mother actually wanted a spanking. That very thought sent titillating thrills raging through her as she could not imagine a more appropriate way to achieve dominance over this woman, the only authority figure she had ever known. Expecting her to jerk away in outrage, she pressed her finger more firmly against the hole only to hear a gasp of pleasant surprise and more arching upward of the buttocks. Now certain that her mother wanted to be finger-fucked in the ass, Zeta began to feel quite confident that her mother would submit to far more than a perfunctory whack on the proffered posterior. "Go for it, Girl!" Helga exclaimed, "She wants it and when you get through, I want to give her a few over my knee to pay her back for all the times she's made my life hell with her bossy, insatiable demands." With such prompting, Zeta commenced slapping her mother's ass with all her little girl might, raining blows which were absorbed without protest. Although aware that allowing the spanking to continue was exposing her complicity, Roseshannon was unable to halt the delirious joy brought on by her submission to her dominant daughter. The hand was small but very determined and Roseshannon could not suppress mighty groans of pain/pleasure that were slapped out of her. She was helpless to do anything but lift her ass to invite the next blow. Zeta's left hand reached over her mother's back, wrapped around her trim waist and under her flat stomach, pulling up to indicate she wanted her mother to raise up on her knees. Roseshannon pulled her knees up under her as the hail of smacks was interrupted only temporarily. The hand under her waist moved down a little more and the fingers began to strum through the bushy curls of her pussy. Then Roseshannon was unable to resist moving slightly forward to bring the strumming fingers to bear directly against her throbbing cunt. Zeta stopped strumming and pressed her little and ring fingers up into the lips that yawed wetly to welcome them as Roseshannon widened her knees and sobbed in lascivious rapture. Zeta began seriously working her fingers in and out of her mother's pussy, finger-fucking her at a rapidly increasing rate. Helga moved to the side of the bed and joined in, swinging with her left hand upon the beautiful, exposed ass. The housekeeper staked her claim on the mother's right cheek, forcing the daughter to confine herself to the left. Helga used her right hand to press down upon her employer's neck to discourage any movement. After a while, Zeta's arousal reached a point beyond denial. Without thinking any further, she pushed her baby doll panties down and off, swung her right leg over her mother's back and rubbed her dripping little girl pussy against her mother's rib cage in search of some relief for her consuming desires. The warm wetness of the precious pussy immediately magnified Roseshannon's arousal until she could resist no longer. She twisted her neck out from under Helga's grasping hand and turned herself around to bury her face in her daughter's delightful little slit with its lips already parted in welcome invitation. With her raised ass now sideways on the bed, Helga stepped over to where she could use her right hand to continue the brutal assault that only accelerated the mother's fiery level of desire. "That's right, Miz Roseshannon, suck on your little girl's pussy while I blister your ass just like you deserve, you heartless, haughty bitch." Roseshannon could do naught but comply as she slurped up the prodigious juices, forcing her face deeper between the lips, pushing her tongue far up into the receptive, baby pussy. Roseshannon had only one experience sucking pussy but her mouth intrinsically knew what to do to bring her daughter to one peak after another, from orgasm to overwhelming orgasm. Finally exhausted and sated, Zeta pulled her pussy away from her mother's mouth. Seeing this, Helga left off with the spanking, grabbed the mother's hair with her left hand while raising her skirt with her right and forced the beautiful face around to kiss her own aroused cunt through her white cotton panties. Roseshannon's mouth disregarded the difference and sucked with the same enthusiasm while she reached for the waistband of the housekeeper panties to drag them down and out of the way of her searching tongue. "Oh. That's good! We need to wean you off the little baby pussy and get you used to a big ole nasty cunt, something you can really get your face in. There's where it'll be from now on. No, don't look up at me, just pay attention to the cunt you're sucking or I'll take a belt and flay your beautiful ass." Betrayed by her inexplicable needs and gnarled appetites, Roseshannon sucked the large pussy to her heart's content. Knowing that she was surrendering all her pride and all her power to her exploitative housekeeper and domineering daughter, she was helpless to do anything to prevent it. She could do nothing but follow her own suddenly discovered carnal urges as she slid down off the bed onto her knees without losing contact with the cunt that now controlled her. As a consequence of her complete capitulation, her life was now anything but empty.