The elderly attorney cleared his throat and looked down at the document he held.

“I, Deborah Anne Porter Harrington, being of sound mind do hereby describe my wishes as to the distribution of my properties, holdings, trusts, and personal treasures…”

Amy looked at the occupants of the room as the attorney read more of the preamble to the Will. For the most part, these Harringtons were not nice people. They were grown-up selfish brats that hadn’t really needed to work a day in their pampered lives. They used their money, and their influence, to obtain what they wanted, and they used people in the same manner. Many of them had used her.

The large man sitting to the right of Mr. Lancester’s desk was one of the worst. Bruce ‘Buster’ Harrington was her Master’s brother, and he used to laugh when he had her strapped naked over a sawhorse that he would bust her. Buster. Oh, he would laugh at that. He would force her to laugh at that, too. And then he would use the cane on her ass until she bled.

It was Buster who had soured the beautiful relationship she had enjoyed with her Master. Having spent eight years in Los Angeles, Master’s older sibling had a completely different view of how a slave should be treated.

At first Charles was furious when he discovered that his brother had been abusing her, but soon he found that he became very aroused by watching the sadist beat his whore. After that, it seemed the more harshly she was treated, the more aroused he became.

Her piercings had been Buster’s idea, as well. Nipples, clit hood, and labia, the woman had been systematically pierced for the control each one brought to the brothers.

Her nipples had been the first to be pierced. Charles had not wanted her pierced at all, arguing that the nipple clamps he employed were more painful. But his brother had won him over with the counter argument that nipple rings would never pop off, no matter how much weight was hung from them, or how hard a tug he gave them. Amy remembered the pain she had endured after having the procedure done. The men hadn’t wished to wait for the healing process to run its course, and the torment had begun almost immediately.

The piercing of her septum was done purely for control. There was nothing sexual to be derived from it, but the sheer delight they received from threading a ring through the hole in her nose and leading her around by it was unbelievable. They especially seemed to enjoy connecting her septum to her nipples by way of twine, chain, shoestrings, or anything that was handy.

Sitting in the office now, thinking back to those days, Amy did what she had done so many times since; wonder why she hadn’t left him. What had started out as an affair had slowly evolved onto a consensual Master-slave relationship. She was fine with that, and had found it very erotic to pretend to serve this rich and powerful hulk of a man as his ‘slave’. Charles Harrington reeked of power, and to be so close to him was exciting. She loved the sex, and loved the kinky sex even more. But then it seemed to become distorted, it seemed that her Master wasn’t aroused without first causing her pain. And her wants and desires were pushed aside, and often times forgotten altogether.

Amy wasn’t even listening to the old lawyer now, as the memories of her decisions swirled through her head. She had seriously considered leaving Charles, but to go back to what? She had no life to go back to. And what of the treatment she had endured? This is where it got very dicey for her. The truth was, she enjoyed it, she thrived on it, and she got off on it. Even when her Master forgot her needs, she would take care of them herself when she could.

But even that changed with the addition of her labia and clit hood piercings. Often times used to lock chastity shields to, the piercings were used to control her sexual release. She knew then that he thought of her as his property, to do with as he pleased. Her Master owed so many things!  And now he owned a person, a slave girl. Even this made her incredibly horny! Instead of doing what she knew she should, and leave him, she did the opposite, driven by a lust she couldn’t begin to understand.

“Ownership of Harrington Limited, Singapore, being a privately held company, is to be transferred to Mitchell Harrington in its entirety,” Mr. Lancaster was saying.  Several of the Harrington clan reached over and clapped a young man on the back and there seemed to be grins all around.

Amy was happy for her Master’s only son by a previous marriage. It came as no surprise to her, as Ma’am had been grooming him for the take-over for the past four years. The Singapore headquarters had become the most important portion of the Harrington’s international holdings and most of the other facilities relied heavily on business going smoothly there.

In fact, none of her Mistress’ choices would come as a surprise, as she had spent considerable energy manipulating her deceased husband’s family into positions that would serve them all well after her passing, even if they were unaware of it.

Several other large chunks of the Harrington empire were sectioned off to various cousins, nephews, and nieces on the Harrington side. Sensing that the empire was dwindling rather quickly before his name had even been mentioned, Bruce Harrington raised an objection to the Will.

“She has no right to split the company up like this!” he protested. “She wasn’t a real Harrington and the companies should remain under one corporate umbrella!” He was obviously worried that he was being cut out of the Will altogether, having a good idea what the old bat thought about him. Several of those present seemed to agree with him, especially his wife, Prudence.

Ah, Prudence. As if on cue, the elderly woman made eye contact with Amy and glared the same icy stare that she always gave her. Amy looked down quickly, not wanting to appear to be looking at her, and wishing now she could become invisible.

It was no secret that Prudence didn’t like her. While at the hospital, with her Mistress on her deathbed, Prudence had made a point of telling Amy that anything she inherited would be contested. Anything.

Thoughts of those weeks in the hospital returned the horrible ache to Amy’s heart. She had sat by her Mistress’ side continually, leaving only when family members visited. During one such visit, Prudence Harrington had overheard Deborah telling Amy not to worry, that she would be taken care of.

Prudence had cornered her that day and accused her of being a free loader and a gold digger, just as they had always accused Deborah.  “Don’t you count on being ‘taken care of’, you freeloading lesbian slut,” Prudence had hissed at her. “You’ll get nothing for all of these years of sucking up to the old lady. We’ll see to that!”

Freeloading! Amy had been shocked to be called that. She had nothing. She owned nothing. She lived to serve her Mistress, and her only payment had been the roof over her head, the food in her bowl, and the love of her Mistress.

As always happened whenever she thought of those last days, Amy endured reliving the last hour with her Mistress. Most of the close relatives were in the room, and Amy, knowing her Mistress’ time was near, could not bring herself to leave the room again. Of course she received the icy glare from Prudence, and even Gloria, Prudence’s daughter, had asked her to step outside.

“What’s going on?” Deborah had gathered the strength to ask. “Where’s Amy?”

“Shhh, she’s outside somewhere,” Prudence lied, “just be still, dear.”

“I’m here, Mistress!” Amy blurted out from the back of the room, unable to remain silent while these people lied to her Mistress. She would never imagine she would be brave enough to speak up like that, but with her Mistress so close to death she was not thinking clearly at all.

“Shut up!” Gloria hissed.

“Get out of here, all of you,” Deborah gasped.

“But Deborah, we should be here with…”

“Out!” the dying woman shouted, startling everyone. “Amy!” Deborah called out, her breathing distressed from the effort this was taking.

A nurse passing by heard the commotion and ushered everyone from the room except for Amy, whom the staff had come to admire a great deal. 

When the room was quiet, Deborah lifted her hand to reach out for her slave. 

“Amy…my Amy, come close, dear.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Amy whispered as she sat in the chair next to the bed and leaned in so her Mistress could touch her.  Her hand went to the old lady’s head and straightened her white hair, moving a stray strand away from her beautiful face.

“I love you more than anything on this earth, my dearest slave,” Deborah whispered, her voice faltering with emotion. “I’m so sorry to be leaving you like this.”

“Shhh, Mistress, I’ll be okay, everything will be okay, don’t worry…” she tried her best to sound reassuring while in her heart she was in utter despair. What would she do without her Mistress? Where would she live? How would she live?

These thoughts had crossed her mind over the past several days, and she only hoped that she could find a person, or a family, who wanted a fifty-something maid or servant. Maybe young Master Mitchell would want her to stay. She assumed he would be inheriting his father’s mansion, and most of the staff would probably be retained.

But the young Master was not a boy any more. He had a wife and family, and there wasn’t much chance he would want his father’s old whore in his house. No, Amy was sure she would not be staying on at the mansion.

“I know you’ll be fine, dear,” Deborah whispered. “Come, give your Mistress a kiss.” The old woman tilted her head to present her cheek for her slave’s affection.  Amy lowered her head and kissed the wrinkled flesh, and then continued to kiss her Mistress on her chin, and her neck, and then up to her ears, and her forehead.

“Ahhh, that feels nice, slave,” Deborah cooed, “give me what I need now, my darling whore, one last time.”

The command for ‘what she needs’ elicited an immediate response from the submissive and her hand slid under the sheet and down to the hem of the hospital gown. Gently moving the thin fabric aside, her fingers traced a line from Deborah’s hip across and down to her pussy.  Flat palmed, she held the woman’s crotch firmly with her entire hand.

“You tease me, whore?” Deborah groaned, “On my deathbed, you tease me? I shall punish you sweetly in the next life when I see you again.”

The tears streamed down Amy’s cheeks now as her fingers slid easily into her Mistress’ slit. Through the tears she smiled and continued to rain kisses upon the face she loved so much, her heart wrenched upon feeling her Mistress’ arousal at her touch below.

“…so good…” Deborah purred, her eyes closed. “You have been a good slave, Amy, and a good friend. Thank you.”

With a beautiful smile of contentment on her face, and a deep exhale; those were her last words.