A Mother and Her Daughter Learned to Serve Me Together

I had closed the last of my business in that city that very afternoon, facing two men who owed me more than they would ever be able to pay. I parted from them with a firm handshake and the promise, on their part, that they would not let me down. Then I left Noa at her building and headed, well into the night, to the apartment where they were waiting for me.

The elevator smelled of waxed wood and expensive perfume. I went up slowly, savoring that pleasant fatigue left by a day in which all your affairs are resolved. I did not expect the door to open before I knocked, nor for Sira to throw herself around my neck as if she had gone months without seeing me.

—I’m sorry, master —she whispered against my ear, though it was obvious she wasn’t sorry at all—. I couldn’t wait. As soon as I got to my grandmother’s house and found out everything, I could think of nothing else. Punish me if you want, but I needed this.

—Easy —I laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face—. No punishment tonight. Let’s go in.

The first thing I saw when I crossed the threshold was Encarna, standing in the middle of the living room, eyes fixed on the floor and hair gathered into a tight ponytail. Despite her age, her body still held a severe dignity: her breasts, a little sagging, were accentuated by a black silk-and-lace bra, matched with tiny panties and stockings that ended in impossible high heels.

—I hope this is to your liking, master —said Berta, emerging from the kitchen with that smile of hers that always promised mischief—. I was assured it was a special case.

I came closer. Her breathing quickened as soon as she felt my breath at the nape of her neck, and her nipples stood out against the silk like two impatient buttons.

—Has she caused any trouble? —I asked.

—None —Berta replied—. She’s barely spoken. She let herself be handled.

In a corner of the living room, on cushions arranged for them, Pilar and her daughter Sara were waiting. Mother and daughter, both kneeling in identical posture, both in black leather lingerie and a thin collar from which hung a tag with their name. Seeing them together, offered by the same blood to the same owner, caused a stab of pride in me that was hard to explain.

—We wanted to welcome you as you deserve —said Pilar, lifting her gaze only slightly—. Both of us.

—My mother taught me how to serve —Sara added, in a whisper—. It’s only fair that we learn together.

I nodded. A mother teaching her daughter surrender, the two of them sharing the same man without jealousy, was one of the few things that still managed to surprise me. But that night I had other plans.

—I’m taking Encarna and Sira to her apartment —I announced—. You two rest. Tomorrow I want all of you early.

***

Encarna’s apartment was large and old-fashioned, with dark furniture and a couple of crucifixes hanging on the walls. I sank into an armchair while she turned on the lights with clumsy hands. Something in her face had changed: in the previous room I had seen her excited and serene, and now she was ruled by a new unease that didn’t quite fit.

—Don’t you like that we’re here? —I asked.

—It’s not that, master —she swallowed—. It’s just that my maid will be here soon. She lives here with me.

—Even better —I said—. Then we’ll have an audience.

Sira did not wait for an order. She sat on the edge of the sofa, pulled her panties aside with two fingers, and looked at Encarna with a smile full of perversity.

—You heard the master —she said—. On your knees. Show what that saintly mouth is good for.

Encarna obeyed with a mixture of shame and hunger that fascinated me. She bent between Sira’s thighs and began, first timidly, then with clumsy but voracious surrender, like someone who had spent years holding back something she didn’t even know she had stored away.

—She doesn’t even know how to move her tongue —panted Sira, grabbing her by the hair and burying her face deeper—. But she learns fast. Desire teaches quickly.

I undressed slowly and positioned myself behind Encarna, who remained bent over with her ass exposed. When I entered her slowly, expecting a refusal that never came, she let out a long, rough moan that echoed through the whole apartment.

—You’re the second one in my whole life —she confessed between spasms, not breaking contact with Sira’s sex except to speak—. And the first real one. The other one didn’t even deserve the name.

—How long, Encarna? —I asked, setting a slow, deep rhythm.

—Too long, master. My husband died years ago, and he was never interested in my body. He was interested in my pain.

That sentence explained everything. I withdrew from her cunt and pressed the tip against another place, tighter, more forbidden, waiting once again for resistance that did not appear. Instead of tensing, Encarna arched her back and pushed back against me.

—There —she begged—. Break me, master. It’s yours. Everything is yours.

Even Sira widened her eyes, surprised.

—What a discovery —she murmured.

I pushed carefully at first, then with more determination when I saw that the pain, far from stopping her, was turning her on. Encarna moaned, asked for more force, came with a violence that made her legs tremble. A silent widow who had locked away under seven keys the woman who was now screaming with not the slightest shame.

That was when the living room door opened. In the doorway, with a cheap robe fastened to the throat and eyes wide open, appeared the maid. A young Latina woman, dark-haired and full-lipped, who stood frozen, spying on the scene with one hand still lost among the folds of the fabric.

—Well, we have company —I said without leaving Encarna—. Do you like to watch?

—No, master —she stammered—. But seeing the lady like that...

From her tone I understood that there was certainly no affection between them.

—This one? —I laughed out loud and turned to Encarna—. She’s no lady. Tell her yourself.

—I’m no lady —Encarna panted, without a shred of pride—. I’m whatever the master wants me to be.

Something broke across the young woman’s face. What I saw in her eyes was not desire, but years of resentment built up over a slow fire.

—Do you want her? —I asked, finally pulling out of Encarna and leaving her gasping face-down on the table—. She’s yours. Do whatever you want with her.

—Really? —she asked, and when I nodded, her robe flew open at once, revealing a young, firm body barely covered by plain underwear.

Encarna made a mistake. She tried to provoke her one last time.

—You heard him, Mariela —she said with disdain.

The young woman lunged at her like a wild animal and slapped her so hard across the face that she fell seated to the floor.

—My name is Yelitza —she spat—. I’ve been called Yelitza for two years, you racist old hag.

What followed left me nearly speechless. Yelitza was slapping her with an open hand, and Encarna, instead of defending herself, was smiling. The harder the blows landed, the happier the widow seemed.

—I deserve it —she moaned—. Harder. Hit this old woman harder.

Sira and I exchanged a look of astonishment. That woman was not seeking pleasure in sex, but in punishment. At last I understood her provocations, the humiliations she must have been hurling at the girl for months: she was looking for a reaction, for a firm hand that her dead husband could no longer give her.

When Yelitza grew tired of using her hands, she dragged Encarna by the hair until she was bent over the table with her ass in the air, and looked around for something to continue with. I handed her a small strap whip that Berta had left forgotten in the bag.

—Five —I warned her—. Not one more. You don’t know how much strength is in your hands.

Five sharp lashes cracked through the room. Encarna took them arching her back, biting her lip, her nipples about to burst through the lace. I told her to stop before the novice let herself be carried away by her own fury.

—Stop —I said, and Yelitza came to a dead halt, panting, transformed into another woman.

I made a sign to Sira, who moved behind the young woman and pulled her against her chest, sliding her hands over her torso until she freed a pair of small, firm breasts with long, hard nipples.

—Lift your head —Sira whispered in her ear—. Want more? He can give you everything that old woman denied you.

—I want to be the one in charge —Yelitza replied, her voice broken with desire—. I want her to serve me.

—That can be arranged —I said.

I made her kneel in front of me. She did not look away when she took my cock into her mouth, and I knew right away it wasn’t the first time. She used tongue, lips, and teeth with a skill that belied all her initial shyness.

—Would you really give me your life? —I asked.

She nodded without taking me out of her mouth.

—And would you like to be the lady and have her as the maid?

—Yes —she said, releasing me for a second—. I’d make her pay for every humiliation.

I came in her mouth and she swallowed without losing her smile, challenging me with her gaze until the very end. Beside her, Encarna watched the scene from her knees, with a mixture of envy and peace I only understood later.

I sat them both on the sofa and asked them to talk. Encarna was the first.

—I’m a masochist, master —she said bluntly—. My husband knew it and took advantage of it, but he died and I was afraid of falling into bad hands. That’s why I provoked the girl. I was looking for someone to treat me the way I need.

—And you? —I asked Yelitza.

—My ex was a degenerate —she replied—. I let him get away with everything until he wanted to share me with his friends. That’s when I drew the line, and from one day to the next he threw me out onto the street. A neighbor brought me here to serve. Today was the first time I’ve ever been with a woman.

—Well, you’ve got a promising tongue —Sira noted.

—From today on, you’re the mistress of this house —I told Yelitza—, and Encarna will be your maid, as long as you accept belonging to me. Berta will teach you whatever you need. For now, no one other than those present may touch you.

—I’m yours, master —Yelitza replied, and I saw a tear well up that she didn’t bother to hide—. I’ll do whatever you ask.

—And does that suit you? —I asked Encarna, almost out of courtesy.

—I don’t care about serving, master —she replied—. Even if I’m paraded naked through the street. I only ask that you not leave me in the dark again.

I dressed slowly. Before leaving, the image of Yelitza, her nipples hard and that rage newly tamed, made me turn back. I took her on the very same table, quickly, while Sira laughed in a corner, and left her panting, already marked as mine.

The three of us stepped out into the landing. As we went down, I thought of all of them: of Pilar and Sara, mother and daughter learning to obey in the same room; of Encarna and Yelitza, executioner and victim reconciled under my hand; of Sira, clutching my arm as if afraid all of it would vanish when she woke.

—Are you sure about leaving them alone? —Sira asked in the elevator.

—More than ever —I replied—. They’re going to be the perfect pair. At least at first.

That night, finally alone with her, I drew her against my body and fell asleep thinking that I had founded something more than a whim. A new family, with a single patriarch, where blood and surrender blurred together until they could no longer be told apart.