Service Provider Ch. 01-13

Still following Matt's written instructions, Janice removed one of her wooden trivets from a kitchen drawer. Matt had painted the wood black. The rectangular border was over an inch thick. The insides had a central crossbeam dividing two round holes. Janice realized it was a breast press. When Lauren saw the device, her eyes widened in apprehension. Janice sat on the floor in front of the girl. Holding the trivet in front of the girl's chest, she saw that the holes were perfectly centered over Lauren's breasts. Remembering how her own breasts had to be lubricated in order to fit into the slats on the rear of the kitchen stool, Janice brought spray canola oil from the kitchen as well.

First she liberally sprayed the inside edges of the two circles. Then, one at a time, she lifted the girl's heavy breasts and sprayed them until they were dripping. Nevertheless, pushing the device onto Lauren's breasts did not work, as Lauren's gritted teeth confirmed. Janice encircled a breast in her hand and squeezed, making the breast meat bulge into more of a bullet shape. Lauren groaned in pain. Kneading and manipulating the slippery breast, Janice forced it through the opening. Once she pushed the thick base of the trivet to the bottom of the breast, the flesh bulged tautly, its shape like a missile. Now the girl groaned again, her cunt spasming from the pain and excitement.

Her hands dripping with oil, Janice repeated the process on the second breast, actually screwing the flesh through the wooden opening, aware of the girl's big nipples growing larger and harder. Janice leaned back to inspect her work. That son of hers really had an imagination. The trivet looked as if it had been designed for one of Matt's favorite activities, what Mr. Wheland called "breast discipline."

However, Matt's instructions continued. In his desk drawer were two items he'd bought at a local store for outdoor gear. There were two circular, black nylon straps for attaching items to other items, such as a backpack. Each was three-quarters of an inch wide, with cinches for tightening.

With Lauren staring at this latest breast bondage, Janice placed the first strap halfway down one of the girl's breasts and cinched it ever tighter. Lauren cried "Argghh!" as the flesh bulged painfully both below and above the strap. Janice strapped the remaining breast and again leaned back to inspect her work. The two breasts looked bizarre, the base of each constricted by the trivet, then bulging, then cruelly condensed by the strap, then bulging wide again. It was so intense Lauren was in a haze of pain and arousal, mouth slack and drooling onto her chest.

Nonetheless, Matt's demanding instructions continued. Janice tied together the slack ends from the two breast straps. She opened a small clamp and set it upon the girl's sweating clit hood, attaching a chain to the clamp and pulling it up until she could fasten the clit chain to the junction of the breast straps. Due to the rigid frame of the breast press, Lauren's breasts were held level, so the net effect was to stretch her beleaguered clit upward by a good inch. Now writhing, the girl didn't even notice Janice leaving to retrieve the flogger, or her return.

Lightly, Janice slapped the girl's sweating face to alert her. As soon as Lauren saw the flogger and realized it would be applied to her sore, hypersensitive breasts, she panicked and, still on her knees, tried to slide backward away from Janice. She had forgotten about her clit clamp, which quickly reminded her of its claim as she screamed in surprised pain.

Janice, who was now also perspiring heavily, slashed the flogger into the sides and tops of the abused breasts, Lauren moaning in severe pain. Once the strapped and pressed breasts showed several fresh welts, Janice relented and, completing Matt's instruction sheet, photographed the girl from a variety of viewing angles, and from wide shot to close-up.

Excited by the suffering, available slave girl, Janice wanted nothing more than to shove a fat dildo up her own cunt and climax like crazy, but she knew she'd be severely punished. Finally, she left the girl alone in order to prepare dinner when the doorbell rang. Since Matt had a key, both women were alarmed. Janice ran in from the kitchen. Haltingly, she called, "Who's there?"

From outside the closed door, Cecile identified herself. "It's just me. I've got nothing better to do than look for my daughter," she added sarcastically. "She hasn't answered her cell phone. Is she with your son for a change?"

Janice looked at the kneeling submissive with her stretched clit, fresh drool dripping off the upper frame of the breast press onto the tortured breasts. She thought quickly. "Ummm, the front hall's just been freshly waxed. Why don't you come to the side door?" Janice opened the side door. Cecile appeared to be drunk, cigarette in hand. The top buttons of her thin blouse were undone. Janice stared for a moment at Cecile's large breasts. Janice could certainly see from whom Lauren got her thick nipples. Cecile wore tight Capri pants that showed off her tight ass and long legs to full advantage.

Janice didn't realize that, beneath hooded eyes, Cecile was looking her over at the same time. Janice forgot how heavily she'd been perspiring. Her standard issue, filmy white blouse was clinging to her skin in several places. Unconsciously, she'd been repeatedly wiping her oil-soaked hands on her face and blouse. "What happened to you?" Cecile rudely asked. "Why do you look like that from waxing the floor?" There was an undercurrent of strong sexual energy between them.

"Oh, well. . . I was, umm, also oiling the furniture," Janice improvised. But she wouldn't let Cecile enter the house. "Didn't Lauren mention something about a sleepover?" Janice asked. This was actually true, since Janice knew that Lauren would dearly love a peaceful night's rest all the way through. When Matt woke up during the night, he would frequently tell the girl to suck him off, or tie her in a position where her sleep was fitful at best.

"Umm, I guess she did and I forgot. She's probably at Susie's or Beth's." Without a word of thanks, Lauren's mother walked away, never before having realized how hot Janice was.

Five minutes later Matt arrived, satisfied with Janice's work and the picture Lauren presented. He was so pleased he released his cock and drove it into the girl's eager mouth, squeezing and slapping her marked breasts as she licked and sucked him. "I'm satisfied with you today, Lauren, so as a treat I'm going to cum half in your mouth, with the other half on your tits." She looked forward to swallowing his cum whenever Matt permitted. He held onto the straps hanging from her breast cinches. As his cum burst into her mouth, he yanked on the straps, jerking both the hypersensitive breasts and the chain to her clamped clit.

He pulled out from her lips and shot his remainder on her bulging breasts and belly. He knelt in front of her, grabbed both straps with one hand and thrust three fingers on his other hand up into her dripping cunt. He pulled her bound breasts back and forth, up and down, enjoying the sight of her bizarrely shaped breasts bouncing around in all directions and the distended clit copying the breast movement. Within seconds, she reached a massive climax, shaking so much and so hard that she actually ripped the clamp off her clit.

She collapsed backward, head resting on the floor tiles, sucking in air with gulps, breasts pointing straight up like missiles ready for launching. Janice had arrived from the kitchen and viewed the prostrate girl, her maligned breasts and dripping pussy, streams of cum falling from all sides onto the black and white tiles. Matt had to move down to Lauren's thighs to find a clean area where he could wipe off his cock. He signaled to Janice, who removed the cinched straps, accompanied by the girl's wails as more blood flowed back into her breasts. Janice also removed the clit clamp, accompanied by more cries.

However, she was unable to pull the trivet press off Lauren's chest. Janice knelt, scooped up Matt's cum from the girl's breasts and used it to lubricate the inside edges of the trivet holes. Lauren groaned as Janice slowly worked the trivet down the heavy breasts. Matt appreciated seeing how the flesh bulged above and below the press but was constricted when passing through the device. Finally, the girl's body was unencumbered from any devices. There was just a gorgeous teenage girl sprawled in heels and black thigh highs – no clamps, cords, chains, gags, dildos or presses, but covered with welts, sweat, saliva, cum and cunt juice, all dripping onto the floor, writhing as blood returned to her nipples, breasts and clit.

Janice turned to Matt. "Dinner's served!" she announced brightly.

Other awkward encounters happened at Lauren's house. One morning, as Lauren was pulling a towel to herself after showering, Cecile barged into the bathroom without knocking, saying, "Where's that damn lipstick?" Lauren was terrified that her mother had seen her entire ass, riddled with fresh welts. "How did you get that bruise on your bottom?" Cecile asked.

"Oh, that," Lauren said. "I'm not sure. Either I fell on a bar bell during gym, or I slipped in my room and crashed against my bed railing." That was more than enough of an explanation to satisfy Cecile, who had been half listening and was already halfway out the door with her lipstick. Lauren made sure to lock the door from then on, especially since she shaved her pussy in the bathroom daily.

Please enjoy the next episode, where Janice serves the board of Ansonia Academy.

Chapter Six — the Boardroom, 1st Session (one month later)

Janice, the guilt-ridden suburban slave-mother, entered the sumptuous boardroom on the top floor of Ansonia Academy, noticing the elegant sideboard, oval table, leather chairs and other appointments. At the opposite end, she entered a small but near-professional quality kitchen.

Headmaster Knowles had called ten days earlier to tell her there'd be a substantial payment for her serving drinks and dinner to the school board at their main meeting.

He'd explained that, although a caterer supplied all the food, he wanted a knowledgeable cook such as Janice to make sure everything ran smoothly. When he named a surprisingly high figure as her compensation, she couldn't help but look forward eagerly to the evening. He told her to arrive by 4:00 to prepare for drinks at 5:00 and dinner at 5:30.

Although she asked whether or not she should wear a maid's uniform (her face burning with the memory of her evening with her sister), Knowles told her to wear a jacket, blouse, loose skirt, and heels. The next day a package arrived containing a white muslin blouse, lovely but so thin and tight it made her quiver.

Once she arrived at the boardroom, Janice felt suspicious of the high compensation, remembering how her son Matthew had told her, as they were driving to his college, that she would serve a handful of men before he ordered her to do a larger group of guys from his college. She had loved being done by two males (her son and his college advisor) but was filled with shame at the idea of fucking and sucking more than two guys at one time.

Through the closed kitchen door, Janice heard the board members arrive and begin their meeting. She busied herself, heating the oven, laying out the hors d'oeuvres, setting up the plates, glasses and flatware and sipping wine to relax. Precisely at 5:00, Knowles opened the kitchen door and smiled at the beautiful mother, flushed from her exertions in the hot kitchen.

"Is everything all right, Janice?"

"Yes, sir, it's easy."

"Good. We've finished our meeting so you can begin serving cocktails and hors d'oeuvres."

Janice carried in the hors d'oeuvres. She noticed one of the four men stuffing what appeared to be photographs into a large envelope. Nonplussed, she took drink orders from the members: the Chancellor, a distinguished looking, broad-shouldered, white-haired 65-year old; the Vice-Chancellor, a lean, intense, brooding figure in his late forties with short salt and pepper hair, steel-rimmed glasses and a trim goatee; the Dean, at thirty-five the youngest of the group, with horn-rimmed glasses and a short haircut; and the Headmaster himself.

She was aware of how the men stared at her, as if they remembered her from somewhere else. When she approached the Chancellor to take his order, he said, "Bring me a double scotch on the rocks. And you look even better in person, my dear." She thanked him, confused about his meaning but too timid to ask for an explanation.

When she leaned over to serve the Dean his double martini, he clasped her wrist and asked, "Is it true that the Headmaster before Knowles was as strict as people say?" Blushing, she stammered, "Yes, sir, he was indeed." After mixing their highballs, she set the table, refilled plates with hors d'oeuvres, and refilled their drinks generously—including her own glass in the kitchen. She felt the Vice-Chancellor's eyes following her around the room, which was disconcerting. Upon serving him a double vodka rocks, he spoke in a low tone. "Pour yourself a double as well." She promptly followed his command and poured herself a triple white Russian that she stirred vigorously so it had a frothy, creamy head on it. She was so hot and perspiring she downed half of it in one gulp.

Promptly at 5:30, they sat. After she served their salads, Knowles said in a strong voice, "It's hot as blazes in the kitchen, and there's no need for you to suffer. Take off your jacket."

"Thank you, sir." Gratefully, she turned to a chair in the corner, unbuttoned the jacket, removed it, and placed it on the chair. Turning back to the room, she was startled to see that all four were gazing intently at her. After a moment, they began their salads and she poured their wine. As she poured into Knowles' glass, he thrust his hand under her skirt and felt the skin of her thigh above the stockings. Flustered by this unexpected act, she finished her cocktail but gave no indication of his surreptitious caress.

Not until she was walking back to the kitchen did she realize that they'd been staring at her breasts. The thin muslin blouse was damp with perspiration, clearly revealing her breasts and displaying her wide aureole and dark nipples. Cringing with shame, she stood in the kitchen, reluctant to emerge, gulping her cocktail. Four men was a lot different from two at a time. The swinging door flew open and Knowles barged in. "Get out there immediately with more wine!" he hissed, as if he could read her mind. Part of her wanted to obey but another kept her frozen in place. He reached out with both hands and twisted her nipples through the blouse, causing her to bend her knees and sink in pain. When he relented, the aroused nipples strained against the rough muslin.

"Yes, Sir." She forced herself into the main room and poured wine, cleared the salad plates and drank more when she took them to the kitchen. Then she served the entrée. After clearing the main course and swallowing more of her white Russian in the kitchen, she served coffee. Every time she was in the kitchen, she drank more. Knowles told her to wait at the side of the table with her hands behind her back.

"Janice, you've proven that you're familiar with the authority Ansonia's Headmaster holds and the obedience due him, which naturally extends to his superiors, the Board. Your previous lessons in proper discipline must be reaffirmed to these assembled gentlemen."

"No, please, Headmaster," she begged, her s's slightly slurred, woozy from the wine and vodka.

"That's enough! Surely you respect the position and reputation of these men, don't you?"

Yes, Sir," she stammered.

"To begin, let's make sure you're truly in the spirit of this evening." Standing behind her, he unbuttoned her blouse. She struggled to stop him and he slapped each cheek. She stood still as he pulled open the blouse, exposing the whorish shelf bra, dark nipples and whipped breast flesh. A couple of the men gasped, shocked at seeing the whip marks, unnoticeable when the blouse had covered them. "Dean Marks, would you like to . . .?"

"Stroke your nipples," the Dean said in a tentative voice. Reluctantly, she did so. With the exception of the Vice-Chancellor, they were amazed that this beautiful mother and alumna would sluttishly obey their every command. She became aroused.

The Dean said more firmly, "Now slap your tits." Increasingly humiliated by this debased scene, eyes downcast at the floor, she stood there for a half minute, struggling inside. Hesitantly, she slapped the outside of her left breast. "Again, harder," the Dean said. She slapped the right breast. Knowles was proud of her submissiveness and pleased with the respect with which the Board would regard his capability to deliver what he'd promised them. He planned to take full advantage of his influence when his negotiations began next month for his contract renewal.

The Dean stood and said, "Hold up one of those big tits." She raised a heavy breast and held it out. "Now slap that thick nipple." She struck her breast flat on, the sensation sending a shockwave of energy to her cunt. Knowles noticed that she'd struck the nipple with more force than when she'd first slapped the sides of her breasts. He also saw that the men had removed their jackets and ties, and there were bulges in their pants.

From a sideboard, he removed an odd-looking contraption consisting of a black lacquered tray with one side that was curved and dangled leather straps from the corners. The other, straight side had chains affixed to two corners, the chains tipped with metal clamps. Knowles held the curved side flush against Janice's abdomen and cinched the straps tightly around the base of her breasts, her face stunned with humiliation, her body paralyzed with shame and breasts bulging. He clamped the heavy chains to her aroused nipples so that they supported the outer side of the wooden tray. Her pussy flooded with arousal.

He poured generous servings of brandy from a heavy, cut-glass decanter into four heavy tumblers and slowly placed them one by one on the tray, watching her expression. She winced from the first glass, adjusting her stance, terrified that the side pushing against her stomach would slip and the expensive glass would fall and break. She appeared transfixed by the sight of her strapped breasts and clamped nipples reflected in the polished surface of the ebony tray. With each glass added to its surface, the men noticed her wince and gasp, the dark nipples stretching as much as an inch.

"Serve them," Knowles ordered. With careful, short steps, she walked to the table. The leering men took their large brandies, staring at her brutalized nipples just inches from their faces. After the last glass was removed, she gasped with relief. "Pour yourself a glass and drink," Knowles said and she complied, gratefully gulping the expensive, smooth brandy.

Yet her torment was not over. "Janice," said the Vice-Chancellor, speaking for the first time, bring us the decanter." She eyed him with alarm, but his gaze was hard. Although the decanter was only a quarter full, it was cut crystal, with 1/2-inch thick sides. She groaned as she placed the heavy bottle on the tray, her nipples screaming, her pussy juicing. In a daze of pain, she walked to the Vice-Chancellor and widened her stance. He removed the glass stopper, reached under the tray, moved her panties aside and pushed the crystal stopper up her sopping cunt. She poured him a refill and did so with the other three, standing off to the side when finished.

Knowles removed the decanter, unclipped the tray from the nipple chains and breast straps and set the tray aside, leaving the heavy chains hanging from her nipples but hooking them together. He told her to sit in a chair facing the table. Two small end tables had been placed in front of the chair, the same size as she'd knelt on when lying across the Headmaster's desk. Upon sitting, she noted that the spotlights in the ceiling had been trained on the chair and the Board members had turned their chairs to face her. "After serving us so well, we want you to be comfortable. Place your heels on the end tables." Since the tables were tall and widely separated, as soon as she complied, her loose skirt slid up her thighs, practically to her lap. She leaned forward to push it back down, but Knowles said, "No!"