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 reign 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 Harrington’s 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 Harrington’s, 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.

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.