Last Will and Testament
by mrhungry

Part 2

Author’s note: I wish to thank my editor and proofer, Jennifer Harrison, for her usual work and for helping with the later portions of this story. Also a special thanks go to a Danish submissive by the name of Joann, who helped me understand the mindset of the main character.

Chapter Three

Amy wiped the tears from her cheeks as she sat up a little straighter and tried to focus on the heated discussion going on between the attorney and Bruce Harrington.

“I’m coming to you next, if you will just be patient,” the elderly gentleman said. “Mrs. Harrington had remarks that I must read prior to addressing your inheritance.”

“Fuck the remarks!” Buster blurted out. “The old crow is dead, she won’t know if you skip her ramblings.”

The attorney calmly began to collect the papers he had been reading from and placing them back into his brief case. “I’ve known the old crow, as you call her, for forty years and have a great deal of respect for her. I will not be bullied, Mr. Harrington, and will continue this endeavor when you can show a little more restraint.” His voice never raised above the calm tone he had maintained throughout the reading of the Will.

Amy’s heart went out to the old man; a man she knew to be a close personal friend of her Mistress. She wished she could run to him now and hug him, but she already felt like the intruder in the room, and didn’t wish to draw attention to herself. She was very proud of him, though, for defending her Mistress and for standing up to that brute.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, sit down old man, and read Mrs. Harrington’s remarks,” the name was said with obvious disdain.

Mr. Lancester looked thoughtfully at the man. He would’ve liked nothing more than to postpone the further reading of the Will, but to do so would not only be an inconvenience to himself, but to most of the others present as well. He sat and pulled the papers from his case and opened them to the appropriate place.

“Mister Bruce Harrington,” he read. “You are, perhaps, the most vile and despicable person I have ever had the misfortune to know.” The attorney could not resist the temptation of looking up to see the look on Buster’s face. It was, as they say, priceless. Others around the large man were trying not to smile.

Mr. Lancester had written the Will as Deborah had dictated it to him, and knew already what would follow. He looked down and continued, “You do not deserve a single penny from this estate, and if I were as horrible a person as you are, you would get nothing. But I’m not, and I understand that the operation of Harrington Enterprises, USA, affects thousands of people across our country that are employed by the Company and those companies associated with it.

"It is with great sorrow that I bequeath Harrington Enterprises, USA, to you, Bruce Harrington. While my opinion of you as a human being devalues the use of the term, I cannot dispute that you are the one person in the family with the ability to manage such an immense operation. I have no doubt that your greed will guide you in maintaining a high level of profitability for the Company.”

The attorney looked up and said, “This concludes the business portion of the Will. I suggest we take an hour break and continue at,” he looked at his watch, “three o’clock.”

As the room emptied, Amy noticed Catherine Porter for the first time. She had been sitting on the far side of the room, out of view from where Amy had been sitting. Cathy noticed Amy at the same time, and altered her path to meet with her.

With arms extended, Deborah Harrington’s niece greeted her friend. “Amy!” she gushed, “I didn’t see you back here.”

As they hugged, Amy said, “I didn’t see you either, Miss Catherine.” She pushed away so she could look at her. “You are as beautiful as ever, Miss!” It had been thirteen years since she had last seen the woman, and she was even more stunning than she had been at twenty-one.

“Stop that, slave!” They both laughed, and then hugged again, this time with more feeling.

Amy had known Catherine since her Mistress’ niece was just a young girl. She spent many summers at the mansion and by the time she headed off to college she was fully aware of the relationship between Amy and her aunt. A couple of years passed before Cathy returned to the mansion, but when she did she requested to stay at the ranch house located on the far western edge of the estate. Separated from the mansion by a wooded area, the ranch house, stables, and pastures had the feel of being in its own little world. It was, in fact, quite secluded.

During her youth, Catherine had become quite the equestrian. Deborah and Amy would walk down to the ranch to watch the pretty brunette exercise the horses, and help the trainers however she could. When Deborah was too involved with the family businesses, she would often allow Amy to visit with her young niece on her own, and a special friendship developed between them.

College had changed the young girl into a young woman. Amy noticed the change in her the first time she returned. There was an air of confidence about her now; a different depth of thinking and speaking that caused Amy to see her friend in a new light.

But Amy also noticed a sullenness in her friend that first time back. Standing next to her at the fence, looking out over the empty corral, she felt the moodiness of the air around her.

“What is it, Miss? Why don’t you take a horse out for a ride?” She knew this always had a way of cheering up the young lady.

“They’re all gone, Amy.”

“What?” Amy looked around the different corrals, and then stood on the bottom rung of the wooden fence to look out into the pasture beyond the training ring. “Where are they?”

“I guess Ginger and Trixie were sold last year,” those were the two oldest horses in the stable, “and Bobby Boy is at the vets having his fetlock joints examined for splinters.”

“What about the quarterhorses? Where are they?” Amy asked, sorry to see her friend so disappointed.

“State Fair! Can you believe my sucky timing?!” she pouted.

The two women walked slowly along the training ring fence and into the empty stables. It was eerie in there without the horses snorting and stomping about. None of the trainers were even there, as they were attending to the horses at the Fair.

“Hey!” Amy called out, “I know, I’ll pull you around in that carriage there. That’ll cheer you up!” The two women giggled, and Amy was delighted that her little joke had made Miss Catherine laugh.

“Riiighht, like you could move that thing!” Cathy laughed as they came up to the four-wheeled carriage. She held onto the dash rail and shook the big buggy, feeling its bulk and knowing it required at least two horses to pull.

“You don’t think I can?”

“No, silly, you’d hurt yourself.” Catherine gave Amy a hug around her shoulders, her sullen mood having been lifted by her aunt’s slave. The physical contact with the older woman made Catherine shiver with an excitement she had not experienced before, when she was younger.

Her aunt’s slave…

She knew that Amy waited on her aunt hand and foot, doing whatever chores were asked of her, and attending to her personal needs. But what were those personal needs? How far did their relationship go? Did Amy’s servitude extend to the bedroom? She believed she knew the answer, and it was these thoughts that now excited the college sophomore. How submissive was this woman?

Seeing another buggy in the next stall over, Catherine took Amy by the hand and led her over to it.

“Now I think you can manage this one,” Catherine said. “Let’s pull it outside so we can get a better look at it.”

“Seriously?” Amy asked, looking at the two-wheeled trap.

“God!” Cathy said as she ran her hand along the dusty rails. “I remember being pulled in this when I was a little girl. It’s for ponies, you know. Come on, woman, help me pull this out.”

Come on woman? Amy looked at her friend and felt her heartbeat quicken. Come on woman? Said with such authority, too! Oh shit! She was expected to obey, and why wouldn’t she? She held onto the other rail and the two of them easily pulled the trap out into the yard.

“Get a bucket with water and a rag and wipe this down. I’m going to change.”

Amy stood with her mouth agape as she watched the young woman walk away towards the ranch house she was staying in.

Was she seriously going to make her pull her around in the little buggy? It had just been a joke to cheer her up.

“Get busy, Amy!” Catherine shouted from the porch of the ranch house.

Holy crap! Mistress’ niece was giving her orders!

“Yes, Miss!” she called back, slightly embarrassed, and more than slightly aroused. She went into the barn and got a pail, and a few towels, and then continued on to the end of the main aisle where there was a water faucet. Returning to the little buggy, Amy began to wash the years of dust and dirt from the surface.

A few minutes passed before Catherine returned, and Amy’s heartbeat quickened at the sight of the young woman. She had changed into her riding clothing!

Kneeling next to one of the two wheels, Amy peeked through the spokes she was wiping to watch the young woman walk around the buggy. She admired how the black show coat hugged her torso, obviously tailored to follow her curves, while still allowing her a full range of movement. The tan breeches were equally snug, showing off her long legs and disappearing into the black leather, knee high, riding boots. Atop her head was a black riding helmet with a strap running under her chin. And in her hand was… a long slender riding crop.

The sight of the crop brought a tingle of excitement between Amy’s legs, as thoughts of her Mistress flashed through her mind. Mistress had several crops, but they weren’t for use on the horses!

Catherine continued to walk around the buggy, inspecting Amy’s work. “Here,” she extended her hand, and the crop, to point at a spot on top of the axle. “Get that grime off of there.”

Amy shuffled over on her hands and knees and used the rag to clean off the offending dirt. Kneeling close to Miss Catherine now, Amy could smell the new leather of her black boots. She had never thought she had a shoe fetish, but the desire was strong to attend to those lovely boots, to press her lips against the shiny black surface, and to kiss them. She would have done it in a heartbeat had Miss Catherine directed her to do it.

Having finished with the axle, she stood to begin wiping the small bench seat with a fresh towel. It took half an hour, with Catherine pointing out areas that needed more attention, but when she was done the small cart looked nearly brand new.

“Okay, then,” Catherine said, “Pick up the two shafts and I’ll get in.”

There was no doubt in Amy’s mind now that Catherine intended on being pulled in the cart. And what was she to say… no? She could have, but the excitement she felt at having Miss Catherine ordering her about overwhelmed any real thoughts of refusal. She walked to the front of the buggy, stood between the two shafts that would have normally been strapped to a pony, and lifted. Looking back, she watched her young friend take a hold of the side rail, step up, and slide onto the small bench seat.

“Giddyup!” Catherine called out, causing Amy to nearly drop the rails she held in both hands.

“Giddyup?” she laughed.

“Yes, slave! Giddyup! Get going!” Cathy replied.

Young Mistress had called her ‘slave’! Now she was seriously wet, and hoped her arousal wouldn’t seep through the light cotton shorts she wore.

She knew that the young woman on the buggy behind her understood how she served her aunt. It had been well known throughout both sides of the family that first Charles, and then Deborah, kept her at the mansion as their slave. Even as their… sex slave. That the arrangement had not made front-page tabloid news had always amazed her, but then the Harringtons had that sort of power, too.

And it was not uncommon for others in the family to use her, either for domestic help, or for sex. But this was the first time a Porter, someone from her Mistress’ side of the family, had called her ‘slave’, or had used her as such. That this person would be Catherine sent tingles throughout her body.

Holding onto the long wooden shafts, Amy stepped out, bringing the little buggy and its occupant with her. She adjusted her grip on the shafts, moving forward on them just a little to a point where she felt everything balanced out a little better, and began to pull the cart in earnest.

The cart was quite easy to pull, and she set out away from the stables on the main dirt road. It was a beautiful morning and the sun shone through the trees that lined the road and lit up the fields beyond.

“Go to the right, Amy!” Cathy called out. “Take the road around the back way.”

They both knew all of the roads on the estate, of course, and this road would take them away from the pastures and along the wooded boundary of the property. Amy was glad she had chosen this route for the privacy it gave them. She was more than a little embarrassed to be pulling someone in a buggy, and wasn’t sure how her Mistress would feel about seeing her do it, either.

“This is great, Amy, I mean, pony!” Catherine corrected herself. “Go a little faster here, can you trot for me, girl?”

Amy picked up her pace, and in a few seconds had managed to get the cart going at a faster rate. Not really running, just a… trot. Yes that’s exactly how she would describe her pace. She felt exhilarated, both from the excitement of pulling the buggy, and from being told to do so by Catherine!

She trotted along for several minutes before she started to get out of breath and began to tire. Slowing, she glanced back and shouted out, “I’m sorry, Miss! I don’t think I can do this much longer.”

“Okay!” Catherine shouted back. “You can stop here, and let me out. Whoa, girl!”

Amy looked back and saw a huge smile on the woman’s face as she came to a halt. Holding the rails steady, she waited until the young Miss had dismounted the cart before lowering the rails to the ground.

After they had rested, Amy pulled the cart back to the stables, while Catherine walked beside her.

And thus began a summer of ever escalating pony play until, by summer’s end, Catherine had outfitted her pony, bit by bit, in the full regalia of a pony-girl. It was also the summer the two became lovers.

She was sure that Mistress Deborah was aware of the close relationship her niece had established with her, but she was fairly sure she knew nothing about their kinky pony-girl arrangement. Catherine had rebuffed her suggestion to call her a pony-woman; she was, after all nineteen years her senior. But the young Miss said it made her happy to call her pony-girl; that she liked how it sounded, and that was the end of that discussion!

Mistress Deborah did find out about their activities, though, when one day Catherine had outfitted her pony and then picked up the phone and called the Manor!

Amy had noticed Miss Catherine taking more time to prepare her for their adventure that day. It was late in the afternoon, and due to the heat of the day, Cathy had dismissed the staff and sent them all home. The horses were all in their stalls and there was no pressing need to have the staff remain.

“Today I want you to look your best, pony,” Catherine said as she brushed out Amy’s long blond hair and began to braid it. She pulled it tight, carefully bringing in all of the stray strands and then applying a forming gel to keep everything in place.

“Go ahead and strip down so I can put your harness on.” The young woman, already attired in her riding clothing, stood holding a bottle of sunscreen and the brown leather body harness that she would strap around Amy’s torso.

Amy had reflected on Miss Catherine’s treatment of her many times. The young woman was very intelligent, and seemed to know just how far she could go with things. She had not one day simply said, “Take all of your clothes off and pull the cart naked.” No, she had started with her shoes.

“Ponies have shoes, but not like yours. I think bare feet would be better today.” And so Amy had slipped out of her shoes and had pulled the cart barefooted. It was tough on the gravel, but the next time she was sent to the ranch she found that someone had groomed all of the paths and all of the larger stones had been removed. What remained was very easy on her bare soles.

And so it went, with the rest of her clothes. And each time she felt the warmth of knowing that what she was doing was pleasing her young Mistress, and that pleasure was returned to her later, when they retired to the bedroom, or the hayloft, or the soft grass by the lakeshore.

Once she had shed her clothing, she turned towards Catherine and raised her arms straight out at shoulder height. It was a ritual they had practiced many times now, and one that never failed to make Amy moist between her thighs.

Catherine squeezed out a handful of the creamy lotion and began to apply it liberally to Amy’s flesh, coating every inch of her. Her hands felt incredible as they caressed her, massaging the lotion over her breasts and down her stomach and thighs, and then around to her firm ass and up her bare back.

When she was deemed well protected from the sun, the harness was brought up and Amy stepped into it, weaving her arms through the appropriate spaces so that her “handler” could buckle it tightly in the back. Amy looked down at her breasts to see how the straps forced them outward, and to see her nipples stiffen from the arousal. She saw Miss Catherine’s hand come between her legs, grab onto the crotch strap that was hanging loose, and pull it back and up to buckle it to the rear of her waist belt. She wiggled a little to allow the strap to part her labia and felt a rush of excitement at thought of what that strap would do to her as she walked.

“Turn,” Catherine commanded.

Amy turned around to face the pretty brunette, who was still kneeling, and saw that she was picking up a small cloth sack. Knowing what Miss Catherine kept in that sack made Amy’s knees weak and her heart rate climb.

Reaching into the bag, Cathy pulled out several small metal spring clips. Amy moved her feet a few inches further apart, knowing where those clips were going.

Catherine looked up and grinned, “You want these, don’t you, pony?”

Knowing she shouldn’t speak now, Amy scraped the gravel with her foot to indicate, yes.

“I thought you would.”

The woman reached up and held two of the rings pierced through Amy’s labia and brought them together until they touched and then released the spring clip to hold them together. Amy felt the tension on her flesh, and knew that the crotch strap was now being held within her slit. When the other rings were clipped together the strap was securely confined beneath her flesh.

Her eyes were clamped shut now as she adjusted to the new sensations that the pussy bondage was affording her. She jumped when she felt fingers exploring her slit, and pulling gently on her clit hood.

“Easy, girl,” Catherine cooed quietly. “There you go now, easy.”

Amy felt Miss Catherine’s warm hand on her bare ass, holding her steady, as the fingers on her other hand straightened out the ring that hung from her hood. Now, using both hands, a small bell was hung from her clit hood. She flicked it with her finger and heard both a little tinkle from the bell, and a little moan from her pony-girl.

Standing now, Catherine carefully attached small bells to each of Amy’s nipple rings, and then a larger one through her septum ring. She spent a moment flicking them and watching Amy’s reaction.

“Oh! Look what I bought for you yesterday, pony!” Catherine gushed as bent down to rummage through her duffle bag and then held up a long tail made of hairs that closely matched her own blonde color. Amy looked back to see Catherine attaching it to the rear of her waist belt, and when she moved away it could be seen it sticking out straight behind her.

Next came the harness for her head. Complete with a fan of colorful feathers in the front, the harness fit snuggly, and the attached leather bit separated Amy’s teeth as it was pulled tightly into place. This would start the inevitable drooling, but even that seemed to turn Amy on more and more all of the time.

Catherine knelt down in front of her pony-girl now, and put her hand out. “Come on, pony, give me that hoof.”

Amy complied, and lifted her foot into Catherine’s waiting hand and then pointed her toes as the leather boot was brought up and laced tightly in place. With both boots on now, Amy stood taller than Miss Catherine. She stood straight, too, as she had been trained to do. Straight and proud, that is how Miss Catherine had told her to stand. Straight, because proper posture was important, and proud, because she was so beautiful in her pony-girl tack. Amy wasn’t so sure about that, but she knew enough to obey Miss Catherine, especially when she held a stiff crop in her hand!

“Okay, take the rails and wait.”

Amy shuffled over to the cart and stepped over the rail to center herself, and then bent at the knees to pick up the two shafts. Catherine came over and clipped short chains attached to the shafts to D-rings on Amy’s wrist cuffs.

Amy was quite used to the weight of the cart by then, and could, and had, stood for long periods of time waiting patiently for her ‘owner’ to take her seat. She hoped that she wouldn’t have to stand too long that day, though, because with all of her tack on, along with the special additions Miss Catherine had made, she wanted to begin pulling the cart as soon as possible! She wanted to please Miss Catherine and hoped the woman would drive her hard. In particular, she wanted to feel the crop on her ass and back, and she wanted to feel the pull of the crotch strap between her legs. She knew the effects all of these things would have on her, and she was anxious for it to start.

This is when, on this particular day, Catherine had picked up the phone and made the call.

“Yes, auntie, I have her ready for you.”

Amy whipped her head around to see Miss Catherine on the phone, and her eyes went wide. No one else had ever seen her in her pony attire and, of course, no one other than Miss Catherine had seen her pull the buggy. She immediately broke out in a nervous sweat, and felt her legs and arms turn to rubber.

But as she stood waiting, she slowly came to terms with what was about to happen. While still a nervous wreck, she looked in anticipation towards the Manor, awaiting the arrival of her Mistress! The thought of pulling Mistress Deborah in the cart was sending all of the right signals to her already aroused body.

She was sure her entire body blushed as red as if she were sunburned when Deborah finally rounded the corner in the trail and walked up to them.

“Wow, Cathy, your pony is simply gorgeous!” Deborah gasped as she took in the sight of her slave in full pony regalia.

“I’m glad you approve!” Catherine gushed. “Look! How do you like her tail?” she asked, eager to show off her latest purchase.

The women walked around Amy to inspect, but Amy concentrated on maintaining her proper position, even when she felt hands on her bare ass and felt as though she was going to cum on the spot from the attention. That feeling was amplified when her Mistress fingered the small bell hanging from the ring in her clit hood.

“It’s beautiful!” Deborah said, as she looked back to see the tail sticking out away from Amy’s ass.

Now Deborah walked around her slave, examining her more closely, feeling the tightness of the harness, and the tightness of her breasts as they were squeezed through the straps. The little bells tinkled away as each breast was grabbed, squeezed, and released.

“So this is what you do when I send you down here to keep my niece company?”

Amy knew better than to speak when in her pony-girl attire, so she enthusiastically nodded her head, sending rivers of drool over her lower lip and down on onto her bare chest.

“Well, let’s see how you handle, shall we?” Deborah asked rhetorically. She disappeared from Amy’s sight and the pony felt the cart rock behind her. Catherine was busy attaching the reins to the sides of the bit forced between Amy’s teeth, and then she led the woman out of the stable and onto the gravel road.

Amy watched her handler take the reins and move back towards the cab, but was shocked to feel the buggy shake as she climbed up onto the bench next to her aunt. She was going to pull them both?!

She would, of course, as she had no real choice in the matter. The long dressage whip with the stiff leather patch on the end would see that she moved as instructed. Too, words were no longer used to convey instructions, as they used the reins exclusively for the purpose they were intended for.

Amy felt the reins pull back ever so slightly and then felt them jiggle as Miss Catherine gave them a flick. She heard the clucking of her tongue that accompanied that motion and stepped out, pulling the buggy with her as she did.

At the slow pace, Amy lifted her legs high with each step, as she’d been trained to do. This worked the strap even deeper between her legs, causing it to bury itself within the folds of her flesh, and to rub against her sex in the most arousing manner.

“Git,” the command came from behind as she felt the end of the dressage whip strike against her bare hip, and Amy knew she should increase her speed to a slow trot. The past couple of months had greatly improved her stamina between the shafts, and she could trot for quite some distance now without tiring too much. Her conditioning would be evaluated anew with the addition of a second rider in the buggy behind her.

But that rider was her Mistress, and Amy felt invigorated and eager to please her. She was determined to pull the cart until she dropped from exhaustion if that was what would please her Mistress!

A slight tug on the left side of the bit alerted Amy that she was being directed to steer the cart onto the path leading to the lake. It was fairly flat terrain until they got closer, and then the trail sloped downward until it reached the edge of the water.

Amy felt the tug on both reins and slowed her pace to a walk as she navigated the trail and pulled the cart to the water’s edge. Prompted by a tug on the reins, she came to a stop and felt the cart shake as the riders dismounted.

Breathing heavily and sweating profusely, Amy tilted her head back slightly and gratefully accepted the stream of water that Catherine squirted into her mouth from a plastic water bottle. The look in her eyes told Amy that she was very pleased with her.

She stood then, holding the cart shafts, while the two women walked down to the lake. Her Mistress was doing most of the talking, but Amy couldn’t hear on what topic they spoke, nor did she have any reason to listen in.

She was a pony. She didn’t care what her owners said or did. Her role was to pull the cart, like the dumb animal she was. She was just a farm animal, strapped to a cart.

Oh how those thoughts worked on her mind, and on her body!! She loved to think this way and felt a tremendous surge of excitement course through her at the thought of being controlled and used to this extent. Her heart beat quickly, not because of the physical act of pulling the cart, but because of the arousal the act produced in her.

After pulling the cart back to the stables, Mistress Deborah decided it would be she who would wash the pony down, and it was, quite possibly, the most sensual hosing the pony-slave had ever had!

“Hello in there… where did you go Amy?” Catherine was asking as she looked at Amy, having stepped back from their hug.

“I apologize, Miss,” Amy stuttered, jerked back into the present and back into the office where the Will was being read. “It’s just been so long since I last saw you, it brought back so many memories.”

Now Catherine’s face turned quite serious. “How are you doing, Amy?” She knew this had to be so hard on her old friend. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Her concern touched Amy deeply. It was the first time that anyone other than Mr. Lancester had shown any sympathy towards her.

Putting on her brave face, Amy said, “No, Miss, thank you. I’ll be fine. Can I do anything for you? Are you thirsty? Shall I make tea?”

Catherine put her arm around Amy’s shoulder and guided her out of the office. “No darling, let’s just go and get some water, what do you say?”

“Sounds good, Miss.”

The two left the stuffiness of the office behind and went in the direction of the kitchen.

Chapter Four

When Amy and Catherine returned to the office, Amy was surprised when Miss Catherine sat down with her in the rear of the room.

“I’ll be fine, Miss, if you’d like to go back and sit with your family,” Amy said, nodding in the direction of Mistress Deborah’s sister and cousin who she now saw were sitting on the opposite side of Mr. Lancaster’s desk.

Cathy placed her hand on Amy’s knee, redirecting the slave’s attention back to their conversation, and whispered, “Don’t be silly, I can see them any time.” The young woman glanced in the direction of her family, and then back at Amy. “I’m staying right here with you.” Her finger traced a line up Amy’s leg, lingering at mid thigh before returning to her knee.

Amy’s pulse quickened as the caresses brought back memories of the love they shared many years before. She held no ill feelings over Miss Catherine’s departure after she had received her business degree. She was obviously free to move wherever she liked, but she had still missed her terribly.

“What would you do if my aunt left you a million dollars, slave?” Catherine whispered into Amy’s ear.

“She’d never leave me that much money, Miss!” Amy gasped, shaking her head.

“You understand her fortune stands at roughly six hundred million dollars, don’t you?”

Amy shook her head and tried to think about six hundred million dollars. It had been so long since she thought about money, or math, she had trouble focusing on the figure. How many zeros would that be? There’s three zeros in a thousand… and…. and…

“I don’t think I know what that means, Miss.”

“It means that giving you a million dollars would be like throwing you her pocket change. It means you could go anywhere, live anywhere. You’d never have to work again.”

“Not work?” This really left Amy’s mind spinning. “What… what would I…” she shook her head, “I don’t think I like the sound of that, Miss.”

She suddenly dreaded this whole Will reading thing! Not work? She loved to work, she loved to serve. Having a set structure in her life, especially one dictated to her by someone else, someone In Authority, made her feel secure. It gave her life purpose. Surely her Mistress knew this.

She glanced up at Miss Catherine; so beautiful, so confident in herself and her abilities. The young woman was everything she was not. She had spent most of her life as a slave, used to pleasing her Masters and Mistresses, her owners, in any way they chose to use her. Set on this course forty years ago, it was the only life she knew. She had never thought of the future, even when her Mistress began to feel the agony of her age; thinking maybe that she would serve her Mistress until she herself died. It had never occurred to her that Mistress Deborah would precede her in death.

Now that horrible feeling of pain was returning to her heart. She wished she had died right along side of her Mistress! With her gone, she had nothing to live for anyway. What was money going to do for her?! She could not bring her Mistress back to life with it. It was worthless to her, and she didn’t want it.

Desperation tortured her thoughts as Mr. Lancester continued reading the Will. Properties around the world were being distributed amongst the family members, many corresponding with the businesses each had inherited, others corresponding with the lifestyle they enjoyed. It all meant nothing to Amy, awash in her own thoughts of her Mistress and her longing to be with her now.

“I leave Harrington Manor to Mitchell Harrington. The property it sits on will be subdivided three ways, with the Manor retaining the bulk of the acreage. Addendum F is the plat which describes the division of the parcels.”

Taking a breath, and adjusting his reading glasses, the attorney continued. “The second parcel is indicated on Addendum F as The Winery. I leave this parcel to Henry Harrington.”

Amy looked up to see her Master’s cousin, Henry, smiling widely and hugging his wife of thirty years, Georgina. Another excellent choice by Mistress! She remembered the trouble the Winery was in, oh, maybe fifteen, no…twenty years ago it must have been.

A man originally hired by Master Charles ran the vineyards, winery, store, and a Bed and Breakfast aptly named Harrington Inn. It was one part of the estate that was open to the public and had been her Master’s grandfather’s pride and joy when it was at its peak of popularity. The wine was known internationally, and the Inn was booked year around.

But by the time her Mistress had inherited it, the books ran red, not with good wine, but with bad ink. Deborah had hired a firm to audit the books and to look into the dismal condition of the vineyards. The mismanagement of the land would have gotten the manager fired, but the larceny that was uncovered involving the expenditure of capital and misappropriations of funds landed the man in prison.

The audit firm recommended the land be sold off to a local developer who had been searching for a parcel about that size. Deborah rejected that proposal and turned to the one person in the family who seemed to know everything about wine, Henry Harrington.

Amy had been in the room, kneeling by her Mistress’ feet when Henry and Georgina had arrived that day. They had no idea why Mrs. Harrington had invited them to visit the Manor, but curiosity had prompted them to accept. Along with most of the other family members, Henry had not been happy when Deborah turned out to be Charles’ primary beneficiary. All the talk over the years of her being a gold digger seemed to come true in one fell swoop, leaving virtually every other well-deserving member of the family in the cold. That they were all insanely rich already didn’t seem to matter!

And this woman, Amy… they had been told she was on the staff, and that she was one of the domestics. But then it became apparent to everyone that she was Deborah’s lesbian lover. Next came reports that the woman was some sort of slave, reports that were confirmed by Henry’s cousin, Buster. Efforts were made to contest the Will, but Deborah’s attorney successfully thwarted each attempt.

The contempt in which these Harrington’s held her Mistress was obvious when they arrived. Not wanting to even exchange pleasantries with them either, her Mistress had wasted no time in detailing her offer – free rein in bringing the Winery and associated businesses back to profitability, and a seventy – thirty split of profits in their favor.

Henry accepted the offer immediately, and the paperwork for a partnership was signed.

Relations between Henry, Georgina, and Deborah slowly went from hostile to friendly as they got to know each other better. That friendship extended to Amy as well.

During those initial years of toil, Amy spent many hours assisting Henry and Gina, as she wished to be called, in everything from working in the vineyard to helping with the domestic work in the Bed and Breakfast.

It was at the Inn, after an extremely taxing weekend, that Georgina seemed at her wits end. There had been several difficult guests, and two of the wait staff had called in sick, and the produce truck had arrived late on Saturday morning, and…. the string of mishaps and headaches seemed endless.

It was very late Sunday night, and all of the weekend guests had checked out, and new guests had checked in for the week and were in their rooms. The guests who stayed during the week were rarely a problem, as they were a more refined crowd than were the weekenders.

Gina had collapsed on one of the beds in an unoccupied room and when Amy had come in to service the room she was surprised to find the Miss there.

“Oh! I apologize, Miss Gina.” She turned to leave the room, and whispered, “I’ll come back when you’re done resting.”

“You can finish up in here, Amy, it’s okay. I’m just so exhausted, as you must be, too.”

“It has been quite busy, Miss, thank you, ma’am.” Amy removed the dirty towels and returned with fresh ones from her cart, stocking them neatly in the bathroom.

“Arrggh! I ache all over!” Gina cried out in misery.

Amy looked at the woman sprawled out on the bed and felt so sorry for her. It was such hard work running the Inn. She really admired how organized this woman was, and how she managed to keep the place operating so efficiently.

On instinct, she said, “Would it help if I rubbed your shoulders a bit, Miss?”

“As great as I’m sure that would feel, I know how tired you must be, too.”

“I don’t mind at all, Miss. May I?” she sat down on the bed and waited for permission.

“Maybe for a couple of minutes,” Gina replied. “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.”

Amy turned slightly so she could place her hands evenly on the woman’s shoulders and began to massage them, kneading them gently, and allowing her finger tips to press into the sore muscles.

Gina’s muscles were tight, and Amy concentrated on relieving the stress in them just as she’d been trained to do by the masseuse her Mistress had hired to teach her these techniques.

“Oh God, Amy, this is wonderful.” Gina’s eyes were closed and a relaxed smile formed on her lips.

“Shhh, just relax Miss,” Amy cooed softly as she worked her trapezius muscles and then out to the deltoids.

“Be a dear, and unhook my bra,” Gina said. “That damn thing has been killing me for the past six hours.”

Amy pulled up gently on Miss Gina’s blouse, and reached under it to locate the hook. Fingering it, she managed to slip the hook out, relieving the tension. Her hand remained under the blouse so that she could massage the muscles that had been trapped beneath the elastic.

“Now I know why Deborah keeps you around,” Gina said lazily.

“Yes, Miss, for the back rubs,” Amy replied as she bent down to bring her other hand under Gina’s blouse to help rub away the lines left by the tight bra.

Her eyes still closed and the smile still on her face, Gina said, “I’m sure you must rub other things for her as well.”

Amy continued to massage the woman’s back, not letting her actions reveal the affect the statement had on her. Of course, these Harringtons knew how she served Mistress Deborah. But where was Miss Gina going with this? Regardless, she would answer honestly, for she had nothing to hide and was not embarrassed by her relationship with her Mistress. She was very proud to be her slave, and… her lover.

“Yes, Miss, I rub whatever she wishes me to.”

Georgina began to roll over onto her back and Amy pulled her arms away and held them over the rotating body, not quite sure what to do with them. Miss Gina’s next sentence resolved that question.

“I want you to rub my breasts.” Georgina was looking right at Amy now, focusing on her face.

Blushing slightly, and looking down to avoid making eye contact with Miss Gina, Amy slid her hands under the woman’s blouse and gently pushed her bra cups up and over her large breasts. Her warm hands came back and gently held a breast in each, feeling their weight and then squeezing slightly. Her fingers caught Miss Gina’s stiff nipples between them and tugged ever so gently on them.

“Oh! Christ!” Georgina gasped, never having felt anything so sensual in her life.

Amy massaged Miss Gina’s chest, working her hands and fingers around her breasts, focusing on the areas around their base, and then holding them more firmly and kneading the soft tissue from the sides and around the tops. She mashed them together and then cupped them each firmly and moved them around in circular rotations.

Each new sensation caused the woman on the bed to moan in pleasure. She didn’t know what had come over her to suggest such a thing to Deborah’s ‘slave’, but she suddenly wished she had thought of it months ago! What a wonderful feeling it was, not only the physical aspect, but the mental as well. Amy didn’t bat an eye when she had told her to rub her breasts!

And ‘told her’ to was the correct phrase. She hadn’t asked her if she would, she had said ‘rub my breasts’ and the woman had done it without question. Later, while lying next to her slumbering husband in her own bed, Georgina thought about how it felt to tell Amy to do something as personal as that, and have it done. Her fingers slid down beneath the covers to her pussy and she began to finger herself.

She imagined they were Amy’s fingers, her… her slave’s fingers, spreading her labia apart, dipping inside to feel her wetness. Yes! Her slave’s fingers exploring her cunt, her hot dripping cunt… because she told her to do it and she obeyed. God, yes! She obeyed her every command. Work that cunt harder, you worthless whore!

Gina’s legs straightened and she bit her lip as her orgasm ripped through her tired and spent body. But her mind would not stop, and neither did her orgasm. Work it, whore!

She suddenly felt dizzy! Fuck! She had never cum so hard in her life. Finally she lay, exhausted, the sheet below her wet from her juices and her perspiration, but she was oblivious to that as she faded off to sleep.

Amy noticed a difference in Miss Gina the following day. The Miss was in such a good mood! But then around two o’clock in the afternoon, having changed all of the bed linens in the Inn, she was instructed to report to Mr. Harrington in the vineyard.

This was not uncommon, as the grapes were beginning to ripen and Sir needed all the help he could get with bringing the grapes in from the fields. In fact, she had been spending a lot more time in the vineyards than at the Inn lately.

Of course there was a good-sized contingent of migrant workers that reported each day to work the vines, but Mr. Harrington told her he needed her specifically to work the vines in the northeast corner of the vineyard. The grapes in this area were hybrid, used to create the signature Harrington Wine, and were not to be trusted to just anyone.

Amy was intelligent enough to know this was just an excuse, though, to get her alone. Like most of the Harrington men, it didn’t take Henry long to figure out just how easy it was to fuck Amy Jackson. A person merely had to say, “pull down your panties and bend over,” and she would do it.

One day, early in her service to Mr. Harrington, he saw welts on Amy’s fanny as he bent her over the deck of the utility wagon to give her a good fucking.

“What’s this then?” he asked, running his hands over the angry red marks. “Did your Mistress punishing you for something?” His tone was not pleasant, as he still harbored ill feelings towards her Mistress at this time.

“No, Sir, she was just playing with me. Is it bad? Do I look horrible to you, Sir? I apologize.”

Henry had to laugh at this. “No, slave,” he emphasized the word ‘slave’, “you don’t look horrible at all.” He continued to rub her ass, noticing the small flinches he caused her when his fingers traced over the abused flesh. He also noticed his cock grow harder. He actually blushed when he realized that causing this woman discomfort was arousing him.

His pants quickly dropped to his ankles and he entered her with abandon, marveling that the woman seemed to be lubricated already! The few other times he had fucked this whore, he had had to work her cunt a little with his fingers to moisten her. He could only conclude that his treatment of her had aroused her as well.

Indeed, he found out that day that sharp slaps to her ass as he rammed her from behind prompted more moans of delight than he had heard from her in the past. It hadn’t taken long before she really surprised him by asking permission to cum!

Asking permission? He lost his load just thinking about it! And now he was ramming her and gripping her blonde hair with one hand and her waist with the other. God! What a good fuck this woman was! He was beginning to understand what his deceased cousin had seen in this woman!

Afterwards, as he drove the grape laden wagon back to the winery, he realized that he had never given the whore permission to cum, and she hadn’t! He couldn’t believe his cock was growing again, and later that evening he had the best sex with Georgina that they had had in a long time.

The days in the vineyard changed quickly after that. It started out with an old dried out vine Henry had found and decided looked like a whip. He lashed the back of his ‘slave’ girl with it, imagining he was her Master and he was overseeing her work in the fields, which he actually was.

A day later, he told her to remove her blouse as she worked, and not owning a bra resulted in her working nude from the waist up. He was careful not to mark her, not wanting Deborah to know he was fucking with her slave, but it wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back the urge to strike her hard and he began to leave faint lines on her back and ass.

He was, once again, overcome with a lust that surprised him and he laid the woman out on the ground and entered her. She was so hot and wet and ready to be fucked! This time when she asked permission to cum, he granted it and then he came seconds later as her cries of passion echoed through the vineyard. He had quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, as he feared Georgina would hear her. But this only made her move against him even harder, seeking all of his length inside of her.

Henry’s mistreatment of Amy continued thereafter, and it wasn’t long before she was working the fields naked and being directed at the end of a long crop. They each seemed to enjoy this game, and spent many hours together in that upper corner of the vineyard.

But as Henry’s treatment of her seemed to intensify, so did Georgina’s on the days Amy worked at the Inn. The Miss had begun to make a habit of appearing in vacant rooms as Amy came through to clean, and it usually resulted in the Miss leaving with her hair slightly mussed, and a glow on her cheeks.

In the course of having her way with Amy, she noticed the markings on her flesh, too. Not wanting to cause difficulties in their marriage, Amy did something she had never done before and lied, saying it had been her Mistress who had whipped her, not Henry.

This set Gina’s mind whirling, and she began to fantasize about being a slave like Amy. To be used, like she was using her! To be whipped by a cruel Mistress or… a Master! Yes, a man… a large, powerful, man with a whip or one of those crop thingies in his hand. Smacking her ass, and her titties, as he fucked her!

Oh fuck! Amy was younger than she, but they were about the same proportions. She had even begun to shave her pubic hair, to be… to be like Amy! Her heart raced, even more than it usually did when she fantasized about being Amy, about being a slave, a whore for her Master.

“I want you to hit my ass with this brush, Amy,” she had said, her arousal evident in her voice.

“Miss?” the request caught Amy by complete surprise. “I… I couldn’t,” she gasped, “that wouldn’t be… I can’t strike you, Miss.” Amy had trembled slightly at the mere thought of striking Miss Gina.

But Georgina had thrust the brush into Amy’s hand and sternly said, “Hit my ass, slave! Spank me now!” and then leaned over the edge of the bed with her skirt up over her back so her ass stuck out.

The first few strikes landed softly, and Georgina scolded Amy once again, ordering her to strike her harder. Reluctantly, Amy brought the brush down harder and harder as Miss Gina demanded the harsh treatment. The submissive could see the flesh under the thin white panties beginning to redden, and she pleaded with the Miss to let her stop. But she was ordered to spank her even harder, and then saw Miss Gina’s hand slip down the front of her panties. It was obvious she was fingering herself as she was being spanked!

The resulting orgasm was the most intense the woman had ever experienced and her playtime with Amy took on another dimension after that day.

Unbeknownst to either of the Harringtons, though, was that the Mistress of the Manor was fully aware of the use of her slave. Each evening, as Deborah lay soaking in her tub, she required Amy to give a detailed accounting of her day with Sir and Miss as she washed her Mistress.

Her suspicions had initiated the reports on the day she learned that Henry had taken Amy alone to the hybrid field. Her instincts proved correct when the man began to make advances on her slave. Initially she had thought to use the information as leverage, should she need it. But as her relationship with her deceased husband’s cousin and his wife improved, the need for blackmail dissipated. Then it had become just a source of entertainment, similar to watching a soap opera on the television, or reading a steamy romance novel.

“So it appears Miss Georgina really does like to be spanked,” Deborah mused as she laid her head back on the porcelain tub and arched her torso so that Amy could reach under her to scrub her back with the sponge.

“Yes, Mistress, I think she fantasizes about being treated like a slave, too.” Amy replied as she leaned down to kiss Deborah’s breast as it broke the surface of the hot sudsy water. She looked up and said, “I don’t like doing it though, Mistress, it feels… I don’t know… it… it just feels wrong.”

Deborah opened her eyes and looked down at her slave and laughed, bringing her wet hand out of the water to stroke her sweet face. “It is wrong, dear. It is so wrong. But you must continue to obey Miss Harrington while your Mistress decides what to do about it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“To whom were you instructed to report to tomorrow?”

“Mr. Harrington, Mistress.”

“Oooo, you little slut,” Deborah cooed as she gripped the edge of the tub and raised her ass off the bottom to allow Amy better access to her pussy. “You know how good that feels…are you trying to arouse your Mistress?”

Amy smiled and concentrated her efforts under the water. “Always, Mistress!”

The next day Amy was surprised, as was Henry Harrington, when Deborah appeared in the vineyard while he was fully engaged in his Caesar of Rome fantasy, whipping his slave girl as she toiled in his vineyard. He had purchased a flogger and was applying it liberally to Amy’s naked back and ass.

“Nice technique,” Deborah called out, startling them both.

Henry had thrown down the flogger in surprise and his blush was several shades darker than the grapes Amy had collected in her basket.

“Deborah! I… I’m, um…”

“Go to the Inn and assist Miss Gina, Amy,” Deborah ordered.

“Mistress!” Amy cried out and hugged her ankles.

“Go, now, I’ll deal with you later. Take your clothes.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Amy got up and ran off towards the Inn, dressing as she went.

Turning to Henry, she said, “This has to stop, Henry. You’re taking a big risk out here in the open, Do you want to be seen, is that it?”

“No… I…”

“All it would take is one photographer with a telescopic lens to land you on the cover of every magazine at the supermarket, not to mention ending your marriage.”

“I won’t do it again, I swear,” he blubbered. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking.”

Deborah waved him off, “Amy will do that to you. Just don’t do it out here again.” She turned to leave and then stopped and looked back.

“What would you say to using the dungeon in the Manor to have your fun?”

“The dungeon?”

“Yes, say… eight o’clock tonight? I could have your slave prepared for you when you arrive.”

This brightened Henry’s face. “You mean it? That would be great!”

“Enter through the back door, she’ll be waiting for you.”

That evening, while enjoying her bath, Deborah questioned her slave. “So you had no trouble convincing Miss Gina to go to the dungeon with you?”

“No, ma’am, she was quite eager, just as you said she would be.” Amy brought the sponge across her Mistress’ collarbone, lovingly washing away the non-existent dirt there and then scouring her shoulders.

“And you left her as I instructed? How did she like the hood?”

Amy giggled. “I thought she was going to have an orgasm when I slipped it over her head, ma’am. You should’ve seen her struggle when I hoisted her arms up! She loved it!”

Deborah laughed. “I bet she was confused when you left her alone like that.”

“I’m sure!” Amy joined in the laughter.

“And Mr. Harrington arrived on time?”

“Oh yes, Mistress, Sir was quite punctual. I watched his approach from the kitchen window as you commanded.”

“Good, good, oooo right there, gently whore, you’ll rub my nipple right off if you’re not careful!”

Amy giggled again and lightened her massaging of Deborah’s nipple with the sponge.

“Sorry, ma’am, this has really made me horny, all of this deception and intrigue.”

The two women laughed as several floors below them a new Master acquired a new slave.

Amy was shocked out of her memories as Catherine’s hand gripped her leg.

“I can’t believe it, can you?”

“W… what?” Amy stuttered, her mind returning to the room and blushing horribly when she realized all heads were turned their way.

“I… I’m sorry, Miss, what’s going…?

“The ranch! Auntie’s given me the ranch!” Catherine said, her smile brightening the room as she leaned over to give Amy a hug.

Yes, her Mistress had made some good choices!

End of part 2

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