Cate was a daddy’s girl.
She couldn’t even remember her mother, who had passed before her first birthday, and so for her entire life, her father had been her world. Jeremy Star, world famous archaeologist and anthropologist, bestselling author, discoverer of the Xerxes Cave, uncoverer of the Lost Mines of Ancanak, and so much more besides. How could she not love him? How could she not see him as the rest of the world saw him – a hero, a paragon, a perfect man?
In her youth, she had accompanied him on many expeditions, marveling at the lush rainforests, the arid deserts, and the freezing snowfields that played home to his expensive archaeological adventures. She learned to set and break camp, to forage, to climb and rappel, to speak and read a wealth of languages, and to identify and preserve the leavings of a dozen ancient cultures. Later, she learned other skills – how to craft and use a hunting bow, how to maintain and use a firearm, how to treat a life-threatening wound.
Some expeditions were more harrowing than others, though, and on these occasions, Cate would be left at home, in the decadent Jacobean sprawl of their oversized manor home.
“This is too dangerous for you,” her father would say, stroking her long red hair with one hand, his signature silver ring, recovered from a Roman ruin, glinting on his index finger. “Be a good girl for me, princess, and stay here with Noni, and do your studies.”
There was never a question of disobedience. When he called her “princess”, all her resistance would vanish, and she would resolve to be the good girl that her father wanted.
Noni was her maid and nanny – a pretty, willowy blonde, only six years older than Cate herself. Noni’s 20th birthday had come only two weeks after Cate had turned 14. Cate thought that sometimes Noni and her father were intimate, late at night, when they thought Cate was asleep. She would heal muffled female squeals of pleasure and surprise (and sometimes pain?) from her father’s bedroom. She didn’t begrudge her father the pleasure. She knew things were hard for him without her mother.
Cate’s “studies” were how she spent her time when her father was away, and for a long time she had no concept that her experience was very different to that of other children. Noni would take Cate to her father’s “study room”, a small private theatre, never lit by anything but the dimmest glow. Cate would take a seat in the centre of the room, and place headphones on her ears, and the screen would begin to flash with rapid, bright images, and a deep vibrating hum would begin in the headphones.
Sometimes Cate would black out, losing hours of consciousness. Other times she drifted, semi-aware, as the images flickered past her. But in both cases, she would emerge at the far end with a deep sense of pleasure and relaxation, and she would find that whatever subject she was supposed to be learning came to her more readily and intuitively than it had before.
Her father claimed it was based on techniques he had uncovered in ancient Greek temples, a “hypnogogia” that had been used to instruct vestal virgins in the mysteries of the gods. Whatever its origin, it worked, and it allowed Cate to digest the entirety of an archaeology degree before she had reached her 18th birthday.
Her father’s last trip coincided with Cate turning 19. A week before her birthday, he announced at short notice that he was traveling to the Amazon, and that Cate wouldn’t be able to come with him.
“Why not?” she demanded. “I’m an adult now!”
“This expedition is a collaboration with Maximillian Royal,” said her father. “It’s… sensitive.”
Cate knew Professor Royal. Her father hated him – and Cate wasn’t a fan either. He was a swaggering, arrogant man – undeniably handsome with his short salt-and-pepper beard and expensively tailored suits, but always radiating an aura of superiority and menace that set Cate’s teeth on edge.
She remembered him attending the house shortly after Cate had turned 18. His eyes had run up and down her body, assessing her worth, his gaze lingering on her short skirt and swelling teenaged breasts.
“You’re teaching her with the hypnogogia, Star?” he had asked in a sneering voice that inherently dismissed Cate as anything but an object. “Raising your own big-titted temple slut, are you? What’s her keyword?”
Her father’s eyes had flared, and he had all but dragged Royal away into his office. “You shut your mouth around my daughter, Royal, or so help me…” he had hissed, before the office door slammed shut, and their further conversation was muffled into silence.
Now, in the present, Cate pursed her lips with unhappiness.
“Why Professor Royal?” she asked. “You don’t even like him.”
Her father sighed.
“Sometimes we must work with people we don’t altogether approve of,” he said. He put his hand in her red hair, and his silver Roman ring flashed in the sunlight. “Be a good girl, princess, and wait for me. Make me proud. Noni will give you everything that you need.”
And that was the end of the discussion. Cate wanted to be a good girl, and so she watched her father leave, his car rolling down the long stretch of drive outside the house, leaving the manor grounds, and fading into the distance with Professor Royal.
That was the last time she ever saw him.
It took a month for the news to come. Her father had vanished in the Amazon. Search parties couldn’t find him. The rest of his expedition had no idea where he could have gone – but with limited supplies, and harsh weather conditions, the grim reality was that, whatever had happened, he must now surely be dead.
Maximilian Royal did not come to express his regrets. He returned from the Amazon, but sent not a word of mourning to Cate.
Cate barely noticed Royal’s silence. For herself, she was devastated. She confined herself to her room for a month straight, wracked by sobbing, torturous grief. She did nothing but cry and sleep.
Three times a day Noni brought her meals, and Cate consumed these numbly, barely tasting them.
Sometimes Noni would try and comfort her, and she endured these attempts as robotically as she had eaten her food, until Noni left.
Finally, on one rainy afternoon, as Cate sat in her bed with Noni’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, Noni said, “You must be strong, Miss Star. It is terrible to see you here, with no joy in your life. Your father always liked you when you were joyful and affectionate. He would want you to be his passionate, loving princess.”
Cate found herself thinking of the glinting ring on her father’s finger, and his parting words – “Noni will give you everything that you need” – and then suddenly she found herself turning towards her maid, and tilting her face upwards slightly, and then, without quite knowing what was happening, she kissed Noni on the lips.
Noni was at first stiff with shock – but then she returned the kiss, pressing her mouth against Cate’s, pushing her tongue between Cate’s lips, and Cate found herself moaning sluttily, until at last she pulled away, her eyes wide with surprise, her lungs sucking in deep, startled breaths.
Noni was blushing and looking down. “Your father,” she said, “paid me to attend to all his household needs.” She paused. “*All* of them,” she repeated.
She looked up at Cate. “It would be my pleasure to do the same for you, Miss Star.”
Cate had never previously fantasised about a woman. Her erotic thoughts had been of older men like her father, taking her on mysterious romantic journeys, and it had been those ideas she had held in her mind as she furtively masturbated in the darkness before sleep.
But now she was suddenly aware of a deep, urgent need between her thighs. She had never been so aroused in her life. She had heard that experiences with mortality could provoke a strong counter-response – a sexual drive towards life and procreation – and she supposed that was what she was feeling now. It seemed deeply strange to feel this for a woman – and a woman who had helped to raise her, at that – but at 27, Noni was possibly even more attractive than when she had first entered the household service, and now Cate wanted nothing more than to use the beautiful maid for unrestrained sexual gratification.
Cate ripped off her simple clothes in a hurry, and guided Noni down towards her desperately wet cunt. The maid turned out to be a surprisingly skilled cunt-licker, and her tongue made Cate buck and moan with surprising slutty passion. She felt like a whore, using another woman this way – and yet it felt so good.
And somehow, at some level, she felt like her father would *approve* of her using Noni in this way – and the thought of that approval made it feel even better. She pushed her cunt hard against Noni’s face, her fingers tangled in Noni’s hair, pulling the maid down, *forcing* her to service Cate’s wanton pussy.
It didn’t take long for Noni’s talented tongue to bring Cate to an orgasm – but even as Cate shuddered and gasped in overwhelming pleasure, she knew she wasn’t done. It was Cate’s turn to return the favour. She pulled Noni up onto the bed, and spread the maid’s legs, and pulled down her panties, and before she had really thought about it, her face was against Noni’s fuckhole, her tongue seeking the delicious taste of the blonde woman’s fuck-honey.
And then they were both lost – trapped in a writhing exchange of passion, their tongues and fingers and breasts and holes pressing against each other in endless combinations.
After it was done, there were no more tears. Cate was spent, satisfied – and even happy. She had, it seemed, worked something out of her system.
Noni seemed happy, too. Her face was flushed, and she had a broad grin on her face, as she lay nude in the bed beside her mistress.
“Thank you, Miss Cate,” she breathed dreamily. Noni had reached three orgasms, by Cate’s count, but it might have been more.
“No, thank you,” blushed Cate. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you…”
“Some women like being taken advantage of, Miss Cate,” said Noni, with a sly smile. “My relationship with your father made the job more attractive, not less.” She used the back of her hand to wipe some of Cate’s pussy juices from her mouth, and then continued, “If you need your sexual tension… addressed, you need never feel you have to ask. Just take what you want from me.” She blushed again. “I prefer it that way.”
Cate told herself that she would do no such thing – but afterwards, when the maid had left her room, the memory of her encounter stayed with her.
As the days passed, Cate’s sexual tension mounted again, and t was only a matter of time until the time came when she was so horny that making use of Noni seemed sensible. Remembering what Noni had said, she didn’t bother to ask Noni’s permission – merely entered the bathroom as Noni was showing, as naked as Noni was, and pushed Noni up against the shower wall, hard, before kissing her and squeezing her petite breasts.
Noni moaned with pleasure at the unexpected assault, and soon allowed herself to be pushed down to her knees, to service her mistress’ cunt, as the warm water cascaded over the two naked women.
After that, it became normal – when Cate needed sexual release, she used Noni, with no care as to Noni’s consent or comfort. And she soon learned that the less choice she gave Noni, the more Noni seemed to enjoy it.
She would routinely announce her need to be licked by grabbing Noni by her hair and forcing the maid to her knees in front of Cate’s pussy. Sometimes she experimented with slapping or hitting the maid, and it was clear that this aroused Noni greatly, although it made Cate feel guilty, so she only did it at her most desperately horny.
It was easy to think of Noni as an object made for Cate’s sexual gratification, like a dildo or a vibrator, and Noni actively encouraged her to do so.
Cate filled the rest of her time with university. The inheritance from her father was a fortune, and honestly Cate could have lived in luxury the rest of her life without doing anything at all, but Cate had an active, restless mind that needed to be occupied.
Without her father’s knowledge, no new study units could be programmed for the hypnogogia. Twice a week Cate would make use of the generic “faster learning” module, enjoying both the sense of trance, and the happy rested feeling it gave her when she emerged. But her education now would have to be in the traditional form.
She applied for and was accepted into university, to study an anthropology degree which would complement her existing learnings in archaeology.
It was her first time being around groups of people her own age, and it came as a shock.
For one thing, she had never appreciated how she *looked*. People would stare at her as she walked through the campus – particularly boys – and for weeks she thought she must be dressing wrong, or walking strangely, or something else.
It was only when she shyly confronted one of the boys – a sneering rich boy who was the son of a politician – that she learned the truth.
“Have you *looked* at yourself, cunt?” he laughed. “You’re a fucking porn doll. You’ve got tits that were made for milking and a body that was made for raping. How can you not know that? I bet you must have been raped a hundred times already, with a body like that. And if you haven’t, I can show you…”
She fled from him in disgust, which was the wrong move, because it showed him he had hit a nerve, and that he therefore held power over her. “Rape Doll!” he called out after her, and laughed, and his friends nearby took up the call, yelling “Rape Doll!” as well.
And to her horror it spread, and it became common for someone to catcall “Rape Doll” at her as she walked hurriedly through the campus, her arms crossed defensively over her large tits, her eyes looking at the ground and nothing else.
She could see it now. Other girls didn’t have breasts quite as full and round as hers. Other girls didn’t have the fitness brought by a life of global adventuring. They didn’t have her fiery red hair, slender waist, or curved thighs.
“Tits made for milking and a body made for raping.” The words stayed with her, rattling around in her head.
She knew now that every pair of eyes on here were imagining what it would be like to strip her naked, to force her legs apart, to grab painfully at her tits, and to force a cock into her wet virginal snatch.
And would it be so unjust if she were raped? If she were used like an object for a man’s sexual pleasure? Wasn’t that what she did again and again to Noni, whenever her cunt got wet?
The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she got – and yet, the more she thought about it, the wetter her cunt became. She was becoming aroused like a slut – and why? At the idea of being raped? At the humiliation? Or both?
It didn’t matter. The only cure was to get home, and slap Noni across the face, and force Noni to her knees, and to hump her desperately horny cunt against Noni’s face until she found her orgasm.
In terms of her education, she found the degree unchallenging. She was far above her classmates even before she started, and she learned faster and with more depth than any of her peers. She was soaking up information well beyond the scope of the course even before her first semester was over.
But she did find an aspect of the course that was new to her – feminism. Her father had never raised the issue of gender with her, and Cate had naturally assumed she would grow up to be an archaeologist as prestigious and respected as her father (even as she had somehow also thought she might grow into a role like Noni’s, keeping house and cooking meals to please her daddy).
But in the women’s studies unit of her degree, she learned about patriarchy, and misogyny, and it began to dawn on her that men might never respect her as much as her father, no matter what she accomplished, purely because of her tits. She realised that men might forever patronise her and look down on her, just because she had a wet little fuckhole between her legs that Noni needed to lick clean every morning.
She was outraged by this idea, and began to eagerly devour her lecturer’s lessons about pay gaps, about systemic inequity, about sexual assault statistics and workplace harassment. She accepted all the feminist ideas she was given, and could repeat them back eloquently and persuasively…
… and yet part of her never disputed the words that boy had spoken, that she had tits made for milking and a body made for raping. Part of her still felt, deep down, that she deserved to be raped because of the size of her breasts and the shape of her body.
And, of course, none of it stopped her from pushing Noni down to the ground each night, and straddling her cunt across Noni’s face and ordering her to lick. If Cate deserved to be raped for having large breasts, surely Noni deserved it even more for actively encouraging it?
Sometimes she would slap Noni’s cunt or tits as the maid licked at her, and this clearly was very painful for Noni, and yet Noni’s cunt would be all the wetter when Cate eventually leaned down to taste it.
And yet, all this new learning wasn’t enough for Cate.
Her father’s last words rang through her head. “Be a good girl, princess, and wait for me. Make me proud.”
Make me proud.
She wanted to do something that would truly make him proud.
And that was when the idea came to her.
Her father had researched many lost treasures over his career. Some, he successfully recovered. But others languished in the hypothetical stage for long years. His study was full of mysteries half-solved and maps half-explored.
It was to these mysteries and maps that Cate devoted herself. She studied her father’s notes, devoured his diagrams and journals, and pored over his cartography. She connected dots and made links.
And finally she found it – the discovery that would make her father proud. The Idol of Zuca, that he had spent nearly a decade looking for. She had found where he had gone wrong – a mistranslated word on an ancient text, and two transposed digits in a vital coordinate. She knew where the Idol was, and she knew how to find it.
She strode out of her father’s study, victorious and elated.
“Noni!” she called. “Get down here and lick my cunt!”
Her maid scurried down the grand stairs to obey.
“And when you’re done,” she said, as Noni fell to her knees and lifted Cate’s skirts, “I want you to pack my suitcases – and yours.”
She smiled as Noni’s tongue slipped between her wet, engorged pussy lips.
“We’re going on an expedition.”
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This is shaping up to be an epic. Looking forward.
Great story, can’t wait for part 2
It will happen! … some day. Apologies for the long delay on this one. Insert my standard answer about 25+ incomplete serials….