Incest/Taboo Amber's New Job

Shamika moved the Judge's head to her other breast.

"Miss Bush, you've been dreaming about Shamika's breasts a long time haven't you. You should had let Shamika know, I wasted a lot of time studying."

As devoted to the second breast as she had been to the first, the Judge's body was shaking with lust; the aroma of her arousal scented the air. Then, without warning, Shamika pushed the Judge's head away. The Judge cried in anguish, her tongue flailing against the air. Her lips were covered with saliva, a drop ran down her face.

"You want to eat Shamika's pussy, don't you Miss Bush? But you don't have anything left to give Shamika, do you Miss Bush?"

"Anything, anything you want, please."

"You already promised Shamika an 'A' for the entire year. What else do you have?"

"I don't know, anything, anything you want."

Shamika looked away and took a second to think.

"I know. It's my birthday tomorrow. I'm having some friends over. You will come, serve us food, fetch us drinks, do whatever Shamika wants. You'll be my servant. How about that?"

"Yes, yes, I will, I'll be your servant, whatever you want."

"Good, now you can eat Shamika's pussy."

Shamika dropped her skirt - there were no panties - and sat on the teacher's desk. Her pussy was newly shaved and had a powerful animalistic odor; I would later learn her diet was controlled for exactly that effect. Judge Bush unhesitatingly buried her face in Shamika's sex. When she pulled her head away to gulp in some air, Shamika's nectar was smeared across her face. Considering how pungent Shamika's odor was from my hiding place, it must have been overwhelming the Judge. The Judge took long licks from Shamika's vagina to her clitoris.

Shamika, however, barely reacted to the Judge's mouth. "Oh, Miss Bush, is Shamika's the first pussy you've eaten? You're not very good Miss Bush. Try harder, try hard to make Shamika feel good."

The Judge tried harder while Shamika continued her critique. Finally the Judge stopped and apologized.

"I'm sorry Shamika, I'm new to this, but I'll figure it out, I promise."

"Miss Bush, you should have told me you don't know how to eat pussy. Our deal is off. You can't come to Shamika's party tomorrow."

The Judge, near tears, begged. "Please, let me try again. I'll do better, I promise. Please."

That was my cue. I entered the room, wearing a gray power suit with a tie. My blouse was white, my hair up, and shoes expensive three inch pumps.

"Ohmigod," Shamika said, "it's the principal."

"Shamika, what's happening here?"

"Miss Bush said she'd give me an 'A' on an exam if I let her kiss me, then she said she'd give me an 'A' in the class if I let her kiss my breasts, then she said she'd be my servant if I let her eat my pussy."

I turned to the Judge. "Is this true?

Judge Bush, immersed in the role I had created for her, responded in a plaintive voice, "She asked me to."

"That's the best you have? You're supposed to be in charge and you blame a student? Corporal punishment may be forbidden for the kids, but the rules don't say anything about teachers. Lean over your desk."

When the Judge - more stunned then defiant - hesitated, Shamika shoved her forward. I yanked up her dress and, using a pen knife, sliced open her pantyhose. While the juice on her leg reflected her recent arousal, the flow had stopped. She was frightened.

I brought my hand down, smartly slapping her thin ass.

SMACK.

'Unnnnffff," the Judge moaned in pleasure/pain.

"You're a very bad girl, Ms. Bush."

"I'm sorry."

SMACK.

"Uuuunnnnnfffffff."

"You need to be punished."

"You're right, you're right, I need to be punished."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuunnnnnnnfffffffffff."

"You need a spanking, don't you?"

"Oh yes, spank me."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnfffffffffffffff."

"It's what you deserve for being such a nasty little girl."

"Yes, yes, you're right."

SMACK.

"Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnfffffffffffffffffff."

She was panting in need. I ran a finger over her vaginal lips. She was dripping wet. "Is there anything else you need to report Shamika?"

"Yes principal, although she said she'd eat my pussy, she didn't tell me she was a lousy pussy eater. She didn't get me excited at all. She didn't hold up her end of the bargain."

I turned back to the Judge, "Is this true?"

Excuses tumbled out. "I tried, I tried real hard. You've got to believe me, I wanted to eat her pussy good, I just don't know how."

"Well, Miss Bush, it appears you didn't hold up your end of the bargain. You can learn, can't you?"

Frantically, "Yes, yes, I know I can."

I stood still, letting a grimace flash across my face. Finally, having let her stew in her own failure, I said, "This is what I'll do. I'll show you how to eat pussy, but it will cost you." Then more to myself than her, I said "What do you have that I want?"

I surveyed her, my gaze finally alighting on her ring. "That, give me your wedding ring."

She hesitated, played with it for a moment, and handed it to me. I held it up to the light as if evaluating its worth and slipped it on the gold chain I wore around my neck.

By now the other students had wandered back into the room. I turned to the Hispanic girl. "Selena, come here."

Selena undid her skirt and sat on the desk next to the Judge. Sans panties, her pubic hair was freshly trimmed and scrubbed.

"Watch very carefully Miss Bush."

I stood between Selena's open thighs and kissed her sweet lips, a peck here, a peck there. We ran our hands along the sides of each other's bodies, our gentle practiced caresses quickly escalating the heat. Our mouths and lips started playing with each other. My tongue caressed her lips, forced them open, and slipped inside. I ran a hand over her inner thigh, sending shivers through her. She took my head in her hands, held me firmly, and became the aggressor, her tongue teasing mine and pushing into my mouth. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body and her breathing deepened. I fondled her breasts through her shirt. They were warm and her large nipples erect and throbbing. Her hips started rocking, her legs shook. She was ready.

I had a short stool placed between Selena's legs and sat. I kneaded her strong legs with my hands and kissed along her inner thighs, teasing and exciting her, building the anticipation. Soon she was squirming. It was time for the main course.

I licked her like she was an ice cream cone, in long thick strokes from perineum to clitoris. I increased the pressure with each trip, noting how she responded. I spread her labia with two fingers, opening up her most sensitive area, and explored its interior.

Selena leaned back on her hands, dropped her head, and groaned. The other girls murmured and moaned as hands found their own or their neighbor's pussy.

I licked around Selena's vulva and sucked the lips of her labia into my mouth. I sampled the vaginal lips, tongued the entrance, caressed it with gliding motions, then shifted to circles and light strokes. I probed her vagina with my tongue; pushing it in and out like a soft supple penis. After every few thrusts I licked her clit.

Selena, her hole flooded with juice, was putting on a show. She squeezed her tits, moaned, and whimpered, "Oh god, it's good, really frigging good. You make my cuntie feel so good, so good. Yes, oh yes."

I ran my tongue up and down the sides of her labia, varying the speed and pressure, sometimes using the tip, sometimes it's full width. On each trip I grazed her clitoris. One finger entered her snatch, honing in on her g-spot; another worked her perineum.

Selena was squirming, babbling, gasping, moaning. I knew I could do what I was doing a tad longer, but it would border on cruel. She was ready. I focused on her clit, applying indirect pressure by circling it with my tongue and then, with her panting in delight and the other girls in the room moaning with her, I attacked her love-button, pushed aside its hood and licked it with quick, flicking motions, the tip of my tongue moving up and down, back and forth, in small circles, clockwise, counterclockwise.

Selena lay flat on the desk, kneading her breasts, humping my face.

My cheeks concave, I took her clitoris in my mouth and sucked on it while licking it with my tongue and humming, infusing it with the vibrations of my mouth. I varied direct stimulation of her g-spot with finger thrusts, sometimes straight, sometimes in a corkscrew motion.

"Unhhhhh, unhhhhhhh, unhhhhhh!"

I took her clit between my teeth and rapidly licked its head. Selena's hands plunged into my hair, desperately pulling me into her. Her pussy spasmed and locked down on my fingers. Water gushed from her as she came.

"Oh sweet Jesus, Oh God, I'm coming baby, I'm coming, I am so fucking cuuMMMMINGGGGG! OH GOD CUMMMMINNNNGGGGGGG."

Selena's body jerked hard, then shook. Her arms and legs danced spasmodically. And, after several long minutes, she lay still, sucking in air.

I looked at the Judge. "Pet, that's how you eat pussy."

The wedding ring around my neck was coated with Selena's juices. I gave it to the Judge to clean and addressed the group.

"Class, Miss Bush was naughty. She promised to give Shamika good grades if she could play with Shamika's breasts. She promised to be Shamika' servant if she could eat Shamika's pussy. Miss Bush can't show favoritism like that. I will leave Miss Bush with you. She will need to do for each of you what she did for Shamika, suck your tits, eat your pussies. When I come back I want a full report. Then I will determine her punishment."

I returned three hours later. The Judge was on the floor, naked, exhausted; her face and hair drenched in pussy juice. Her tongue hung limply from her mouth. Splotches on her skin showed where she'd been manhandled. Her nipples were inflamed from being twisted and pulled. The girls, on the other hand, were perfectly made-up, looking as fresh and innocent as when we started.

"Well, how did she do."

Dawn, the Asian, answered first. "Well, she made me cum, but it wasn't that good."

After the other girls provided similar answers, I turned to the Judge, "It looks like, at best, you've got a low 'D.' Shamika, how about you?"

"She didn't make me cum."

I looked at the Judge, eyebrow arched. Her eyes reflected panic and in a slurred voice - her tongue numb - she said, "I'm sworry, my towngue's exhausted. I twied, just couldn't."

"Ladies, please help Shamika out. Miss Bush, time for your punishment."

The girls gathered around Shamika. A mouth latched to each breast, two girls licked her pussy, two others nibbled on her butt.

There was no fight left in the Judge. She grabbed a chair, struggled to stand, and lay on the table, face down, ass up. I picked up a yardstick, swished it through the air, and brought it down on her ass. Whapp! It would sting, leave red marks, and make a satisfying smack, but would not cause injury. I did it again, delayed a moment, and did it a third time. Whapp! Whapp! The Judge, physically exhausted and emotionally battered, shuddered and whimpered, accepted her punishment without objection. And, although bone-weary and her body enervated, her eyes still flamed to life as they fixed on the lesbian tableau before her.

"Ms. Bush, you broke some important rules. How many of these do you deserve?"

"I was very bad, Ma'am. I'm not sure how many. A lot."

I continued at a slow steady pace, letting the sound of each blow echo through the room. By the time the Judge's butt glowed a light red, she had started to move her ass up to the stick as it whizzed towards her. Liquid dripping from the Judge's pussy pooled on the table; her red swollen clit emerged from its hood. Moans of need replaced whimpers of pain. She humped the table, pain and humiliation combining to foment a level of excitement she had not never imagined.

Shamika's eyes were shut and her legs wobbly; she was lost in an erotic fog. Being made love to by six of Las Vegas' premier call girls will do that to you. "Ahhhh, thank you, you're making Shamika feel so good. Ohhhhhh... uuuhhhhmmm... yessssssss...," she moaned over and over and then, head lolling back, she screamed, "Fuck, Ohhh God," as an orgasm whipped through her. She collapsed into the arms of her lovers.

The Judge, spellbound, was beyond rational thought. She slammed her hand into her crotch, desperately fingering her pussy, her entire body quaking. Her cunt was slick; juice flooded her hole, her cunt grabbed at her fingers. She twisted, squirmed, and groaned as the yardstick continued hammering her ass. Her fingers worked faster, stabbing into her spasming cunt; her thumb squashed her pink clit against her body.

The ladies in the room watched and commented.

"Wow, look at Miss Bush, she's such a slut."

"Look at that little whore go."

"Man, I thought she was a cold fish, but it turns out she's a pain slut."

"She's a depraved bitch, ain't she.

"What a harlot."

"Can I beat her next?"

"Check out the floozy."

The Judge muttered, half consciously, "I am a whore, I am a whore...," pushed the heel of her hand against her clitoris and came, her cunt-spasms all but shaking her to pieces. Pleasure from her climaxing cunt and red ass rippled throughout her body, her cries of ecstasy tore around the room. Her snatch clenched down on her fingers one last time, and then, slowly, the shivering tremors of her orgasm faded.

As she lay exhausted on the table I addressed the group.

"Miss Bush promised Shamika to be her personal servant at her birthday party tomorrow. However, it wouldn't be right for Ms. Bush to prefer one student over another, so tomorrow she will be everyones' servant. How many guests will you have Shamika?"

"More than thirty."

"Does that sound fair to you, Miss Bush."

The hunger in her eyes said it did.

I and the ladies left the room. The Judge lay on the table, body and mind numb. When the driver arrived forty-five minutes later the Judge said she'd been a bad girl and begged the driver, without success, to spank her.

On her return to the compound she found me with a glass of champagne. She knelt.

"Ma'am."

"Pet, you look terrible. Go inside, take a quick shower. Your clothes are laid out."

The Judge appeared thirty minutes later wearing a pair of stained too tight jeans, a white tee shirt sans bra, a Phillips 66 baseball cap, and cheap cowboy boots. Her erect nipples tented the shirt. Her hair was pulled back. I applied make-up, perfecting her white-trash look.

"Pet, you dress down well. You were offered your fantasy today, a room full of school girls, and you failed. You need more training. Its amateur night at Eat More Possum, its

a bottom-of-the-barrel red neck strip joint. It always turns into a girl-on-girl show. Get up on stage, eat some pussy, get yours eaten."

The Judge, stinking of cigarettes, whiskey, and beer, reappeared four hours later. She knelt.

"How did it go, pet."

"I did as you said Ma'am. I lost track of the number of pussies I ate. I know a made a bunch of girls come. I think I'm getting better at it. Girls ate me out, five, six, seven of them, I lost count. I was, I am, so horny."

The driver nodded, confirming the Judge's report.

"Excellent pet. Ready for a whipping?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

She leaned over the porch bannister and there, before a group of spectators, I spanked her with a wide flat hickory panel. She orgasmed over-and-over.
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* * * *​

It was early afternoon of the following day. I was looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran along the back of Jill Anderson's bedroom. Jill was the madam who supplied the students for our classroom. On the back lawn the Judge, naked, was on her knees eating one pussy, fingering two others, and being fucked from behind by a woman wearing a dildo.

Jill was sitting on her bed a few feet away. A stunning lightly freckled red head in her early 40's, her trim figure featured some of few non-silicone enhanced breasts in her stable. They were small and delightfully pert.

"How's she doing? This is her second run through the crowd."

"My girls report she's completely compliant and an orgasm machine: she just keeps coming. She keeps asking about you; she wants the girls to tell you what a good little whore she is." She stopped, then added, "I think she's broken."

"A little more breaking won't hurt. We have big plans for her."

She got off the bed and walked over to me. "You must, considering what you're paying me." I turned to face her, our naked breasts touching. I kissed her, my lips lightly brushing hers.

"You've earned every penny. Your performance has been remarkable."

She nibbled on my ear and sank a tongue inside it.

"I'm glad we could be of service. In fact, by my calculation we've made so much money I've decided to write off my time. I'm on the house."

My hands went to her ass, pulling her wet pussy to mine. We exchanged a longer deeper kiss and headed back to bed.
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* * * *​

That night, on the flight back from Las Vegas, I handed the Judge her wedding ring.

"Ma'am, I don't want it. I belong to you now."

"I know you do pet. Look at the engraving inside."

"I am Amber's," was stenciled on the ring's inner surface The Judge read it out loud. Close to tears, she said, "It's beautiful."

"I need you to pretend to be a judge and a wife a little bit longer."

"Whatever you say Ma'am."

During the weeks before trial my prime responsibility was to tighten my hold on the Judge, but that was easy. She was thoroughly broken. Each night we met in her office for a spanking, after which she ate my pussy - she got pretty good at it - and then I fucked her with an array of dildos. Several times a week I interrupted her with summary order to service a stranger drawn from society's dregs. On weekends I passed her around lesbian clubs like chattel.

As the trial approached Judge Bush ruled in favor of both parties on a variety of issues, but sided with the defendants on the most important questions and on anything that could lead to reversal of the Court's decision. Her tone when discussing the case was not dismissive of the Richards' position, but expressed healthy doubt.

Two days before trial, after the parties spent a fortune bringing expert witnesses to town and preparing testimony, the Judge announced she had a medical emergency - a diagnosis procured with Willie's assistance. After two weeks to allow her medications to flush from her system she would need surgery. The case could not be presented to a jury in two weeks. The Judge offered to work late each day and decide the matter herself. The defense accepted immediately. The Richards, after a night of faux deliberations, agreed.

Five weeks later the Judge issued her ruling. The decision was well-reasoned and thorough - Michelle wrote it - and awarded our clients $457 million. The defendants made noises about an appeal, but knew they had little chance and the award was earning more than $50,000.00 interest daily. The case settled for $425 million. The Richards shut down their practice to build their mountain-side Hawaiian home; their future called for the more leisurely life of consulting. Denise and I got bonuses that would have allowed us to retire.

I prepared the Judge for life without me. She returned her wedding ring - I still have it, it is my talisman - and worked out a happy accommodation with her husband. I got her to the gym and re-did her hair and make-up. While she'd never be gorgeous, she became an attractive middle-aged woman. Michelle introduced her to a well-known Southern California divorce attorney - I'm sure you've seen her on television - who is also a lesbian dominatrix. The Judge took a job with her in Los Angeles. By all reports she is quite happy.

I applied to several top graduate schools. The strong performance of my last two years, an exceptional GRE score, and strong recommendations got me to the interview process where I, of course, excelled.

I returned to our community and established a regional executive search firm. I've considered taking it national, but, as structured I have complete control, something I do not want to surrender. I also make more money than I know how to spend.

Regina, my sweet sweet lady, and I remain devoted in spirit, if not always in body. She is our district attorney and the most influential politician in our county, able to elect, or un-elect, the sheriff, county president, or any councilperson. Our devotees, still introduced through our yoga group, form a web on which we rely.
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