WARNING: this story contains depictions of extreme, non-consensual sexual slavery. Sick, twisted, incestuous debauchery lies directly ahead. And that's just the first three paragraphs! Please do NOT read on of you are offended by such content. If you do choose to continue reading, please remember that this is a work of fantabulous fiction. None of this shit should ever happen in real life to anyone. Ever.

*****

Summer tapped her mother on the back of the head impatiently.

"Hurry up, Mom. Pick up the pace. I need two more before Master gets down here," said the daughter urgently. "Why do you always lose focus when I do you first?" she added irritably.

The professor was lying on her stomach on the bed with her face between her daughter's legs. She was eating out her pussy for all she was worth. It had taken her longer than usual to coax out the first orgasm from the nineteen year-old girl and she still had two more to go before the seven o'clock deadline.

Their master called this their daily matins. Three orgasms each before breakfast every day. Tongues only. No fingers allowed.

The daughter had already made the mother cum three times using her well-trained tongue. She preferred being on her knees with her mother spread out before her on the edge of the bed. Summer was becoming quite the accomplished pussy-eater. It was hard to believe she had never been with a woman prior to getting captured.

Today was their sixth day of captivity.

"I'm sorry, honey," said the mother defensively. "It's just that my jaws still ache from last night. It took you forever to cum," she added peevishly.

The previous night, their master had ordered the slaves to achieve their first purely anal orgasms. They had been directed to make each other cum using only tongues in assholes. No vaginal or clitoral stimulation was permitted. The mother's tongue had been clumsy and tired. It had taken the daughter over two hours to finally achieve release.

The daughter reached down and grabbed her mother roughly by the pony tail. She jerked it upward, until their eyes met. The older woman's lips and chin were smeared with her daughter's juices.

"Don't blame me for your lazy tongue, old woman," said the Summer cooly. "As I recall, it only took me fifteen minutes to get you off last night."

"I know, sweetie," said the mother meekly. "I promise to do better, honey," she added smiling up at her daughter.

The daughter continued to look down into her mother's eyes. She gave her pony tail a rough shake.

"To be honest, I'm getting a little sick and tired of pulling all the weight around here," she continued. "I thought you said you dyked it up in college, but you certainly couldn't tell that from your performance. I'll tell you right now that I am not going to have my udders whipped again for missing matins. It's time for you to step it up and get me off or I'll tell Master you're starting to lose interest in your training."

The older woman's eyes widened in fear. Both slaves were under strict orders to report any lapses in enthusiasm. Neither of them had ever done so before, but now the mother was starting to question her own position. The tension between her and her daughter had been steadily increasing over the last few days. Clearly, the mother-daughter bond was starting to fray.

"That won't be necessary, honey," said the mother obsequiously as she patted her daughter's pussy lightly with the flat of her right hand. She leaned in and gave her bare vulva a big smootch, then batted her eye lashes coquettishly. "Do you want me to put my pinky in your ass? Sometimes that pushes you over the edge, right?"

"No, that won't work. Your tongue feels like a wet noodle. Flip over and I'll and grind it out," said the daughter petulantly.

The mother scrambled to comply, turning over on to her back and placing her hands docilely at her sides.

Summer sat up and swung her legs around in one smooth motion, sitting down roughly on the older woman's face.

"Let me feel that tongue," said Summer tersely, as she adjusted herself on the mouth beneath her. She reached down and twisted her mother's nipples roughly. Summer had discovered early on in their training that the older woman often needed a little extra prodding to quicken her tongue.

Her mother yelped and stiffened her tongue, pushing it deep into her daughter's vagina and flicking it rhythmically, the way she knew she liked.

"There it is. That's a good mommy," said the daughter soothingly. She released her mother's nipples and began to grind herself methodically against her face.

It was six-thirty in the morning. Both women had been awake since five. They had performed their daily ablutions and enemas and shaved each other meticulously. Then they had attended to each other's plugging.

The morning ass plugging was quickly becoming the most arduous part of their routine. Their future mistress wanted their asses stretched out for use in the brothels, so the man had been steadily increasing the size of the plugs he laid out for them each night. The process was made more difficult by the fact that they were forbidden to use lubrication other than their own secretions and saliva.

The slaves quickly realized the best way to work in the larger plugs was to soften their sphincters with a thorough rimming, working their tongues as deeply as possible in to each other's slackening orifices. Then the slave being plugged would stand and hold her ass cheeks apart as the other woman knelt behind her and gently twisted the large bulbous head in to place, licking around the rim of the anus for added lubrication as needed.

This morning, each slave wore a four inch butt plug, by far the largest yet. It had taken them fifteen minutes each to get them in.

Finally, after they were successfully plugged, each slave had done her hair and make-up the way master liked.

Now it was time to complete their matins.

The daughter looked down at her mother's body as she rode her tongue. Her breasts, belly and bare vulva were criss-crossed with red welts from the daily punishment sessions.

As she felt her orgasm steadily approaching, the daughter reached down and absently fondled her mother's engorged pussy with the fingers of her right hand. She played lazily with the labia, still fat with arousal following her recent orgasms. She noticed a shiny patina of moisture above the clit and leaned down and casually lapped it up. She felt herself quicken slightly at the familiar tangy taste.

Summer kept her hand pressed lightly against her mother's pussy. She shifted slightly on her perch, opening herself further to her mom's probing tongue. She felt a bubble of arousal rise and then trickle out of her pussy directly into the older woman's open mouth. Her mother swallowed greedily, moaning appreciatively into her sex, then began to rock her pelvis back and forth rhythmically against her daughter's hand.

Summer smiled thinly to herself. A week ago, her mother, Madeline Bennett, had been a happily married well-respected professor of economics. Now she was acting like an insatiable lesbian tart. Three orgasms in thirty minutes and still she wanted more. She supposed the woman couldn't help herself. Both slaves were being systematically trained to equate the taste of pussy with their own sexual fulfillment. Being forced to sixty-nine each other for hours at a time created quite a powerful circuit of operant conditioning. It was only natural that both women would eventually find themselves aroused by the mere scent or taste of the other.

Summer bucked up and down on her mother's tongue for a few more seconds until she felt the wave cresting, then let herself be pulled gently down the other side as her orgasm began to take her.

She had the presence of mind to hold up her right hand for the surveillance cameras with two fingers held up, indicating her second orgasm of the day. She knew her master would be keeping careful track when he reviewed the video feed.

It turned out to be a wet one.

She heard her mother sputter and slurp for a full minute as she tried to keep up with the flow.

When the older woman had recovered from the deluge and was breathing normally again beneath her, Summer leaned forward and gently took her mother's distended clit in to her mouth. She suckled it gently, for a few seconds, then began to to flick it rapidly with the tip of her tongue. Again, she felt a tingle of excitement as she savored the taste of her mother's essence.

Summer needed one more orgasm. They would rock this one out together. It would be quicker that way, anyway. Neither of them openly acknowledged it, but both women had developed a unique Pavlovian reflex: it was simply easier to cum with the taste of pussy in their mouths.

Five minutes later, they were done. They gently licked each other clean as they had been trained, then got out of bed.

Both women fixed their hair and touched up their make-up in the mirror above the sink. As they looked at their reflections, the slaves no longer took notice of the thick, steel collars locked around their necks. They were also now completely oblivious to their constant nudity. Neither woman had worn a stitch of clothing since being captured almost a week earlier.

When they were satisfied with their appearance, the slaves knelt on the floor by the foot of the bed and waited patiently to greet their master.

Each woman was lost in her own thoughts.

Tomorrow would be their last day in the hated cell. Their master had told them was he going to sedate them and pack them in to puppy crates for the three hour drive in the back of a truck to the port city of Ensenada. There, they would be placed aboard a container ship for the three-week sea voyage to Thailand where they would be delivered to the villa of their new owner, Mistress Mali.

Both slaves had vowed that they were not going to let that happen. They were going to fight.

"Tomorrow's the big day," whispered the mother quietly to her daughter. "Do you think we'll be able to do it?"

"Fucking-A we can do it, Mom," said the daughter resolutely. "Just try not fuck it up. Remember, when he puts it in your mouth, bite down hard until your teeth touch, then shake your head from side to side. Bite it off right at the root."

"Then we hold him down, right?" said the mother fiercely. "Don't forget that. If he makes it to the gate, we're dead."

"I know, Mom. Please. We've gone over this a hundred times. He's a dead man. It's happening tomorrow. I only hope he chooses me first," she said savagely. "I'm not just going to rip it off. I'm going to eat it. I'm going to make him watch me wolf it down before he dies."

The mother let the remark go. She shifted uncomfortably on her knees and studied her daughter out of the corner of her eye. Summer had been acting increasingly remote and hostile over last few days. She wondered if her daughter somehow blamed her for their predicament. Or maybe she was simply buckling under the strain. Trapped in a cage, with her life on the line, it was no surprise that Summer was acting more like a feral animal than a loving daughter.

The mother sighed and set the thought aside. It would all be over soon. She looked down at the floor and thought about the past week of training.

After their initial capture, things had quickly fallen in to a routine. The slaves would rise at five and clean, shave and plug themselves, then attend to their matins. Their master would bring down their breakfast at seven sharp.

They were being sold as pleasure slaves who would eventually end up in the brothels, so their training consisted of various exercises designed to improve their sexual performance and desirability. They were also physically punished to break down any resistance and instill obedience.

Mornings were spent on suck-training. The women learned to suck cock the way their master liked. They would start by licking and sucking his balls together, then they would take turns bobbing up and down on his nine-inch shaft, while the other slave alternated between licking his balls and rimming his ass. When he came, each slave was trained to hold the offering in her mouth until instructed to swallow it or share it in a kiss with her fellow slave.

The slaves spent at least one hour per day on their knees practicing their deep throat-skills on the cock-board. This was a wooden board affixed to the wall in the corner of the cell with six rubber cocks of increasing length and girth arranged horizontally at mouth height from left to right. The smallest cock was a slim six inches, the largest, ten inches and as thick as a can of soda. The smooth rubber surfaces of the dildos were discolored with age and pitted with innumerable bite marks from the dozens of slaves, male and female, who had used the board to train their throats over the years.

Mother and daughter were ordered to do ten laps on the cock-board per day before lunch. The object of the exercise was to learn to swallow the entire length of each phallus so that the slave's nose ended up pressed against the board. The cock was only counted as "passed" if the slave could hold this position, nose-to-board for one full minute, while breathing steadily through her nose.

The final lap of each day was graded carefully by their master. The winner received an extra slice of Bologna with lunch.

The loser had her udders whipped with a short quirt.

After lunch, it was time for hole-training. Both slaves were strapped to the matching breeding benches in the middle of the cell. These were broad, sturdy wooden horses covered with thick, black leather padding. They had adjustable knee-rests and arm-rests along the side equipped with leather cuffs. The slaves were placed face down on the bench, with their heads hanging off the front. The leather cuffs were buckled around the arms, wrists, legs and ankles. Thick leather straps were then cinched around the torso and the waist to secure the belly of each slave flat against the bench. A D-ring at the head of the horse was fitted win a short chain which was attached to the slave's collar.

The net effect was that each slave was effectively immobilized in the all-fours position with her mouth, anus and vagina at perfect cock-height for leisurely fucking in the standing position. The benches were arranged facing each other so both women were forced to watch each other being violated daily.

The man usually started with Summer. There was something about the look in the mother's eyes as she watched her daughter being mounted from behind that never failed to excite him. Hole-training consisted of the man fucking the slave's mouth, cunt and ass repeatedly. The slaves were taught to contract their cunts and tighten their anal sphincters rhythmically around the man's cock to enhance his pleasure. Sometimes he could go for a full hour before finishing in the slave's ass. When he was done, he would move on to the other woman who would suck him hard again.

When they weren't being used sexually by their master or practicing their oral skills on each other, the slaves were subjected to punishment training. They were methodically cropped, belted, spanked, flogged and paddled on their udders, cunts and asses. Their nipples and labia were clamped and stretched with heavy dangling weights, which they sometimes wore for hours at a time.

For the most part, the punishments inflicted were fairly low impact, designed to engender physical submission rather than to cause bodily harm. The intent was more psychological than corporal. The slaves simply needed to understand that it was now perfectly normal for them to be punished by another human being at any time for no reason.

When actual pain was required, the man used the five foot long single tail stock whip. Both slaves had had their breasts whipped on the first day of captivity with this whip and both slaves had gotten the message. They became obedient and enthusiastic students of their new trade. They would do anything to avoid tasting the "big whip" again. So far, they had been successful.

The mother was snapped out of her revelry by the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock of the heavy steel door set in to the far wall of the large anteroom outside their cell. Both slaves looked up in unison as the door swung open and their master stepped in to the room.

He was naked as usual and carrying a large breakfast tray. His gun metal gray hair was slicked back on his head from a recent shower. Both slaves eyed him warily through the bars. The mother was again struck by the bland normality of his appearance. He was medium height and weight and wore steel-rimmed spectacles. He looked more like a high school shop teacher than a sadistic rapist and slave-trader.

The man motioned the slaves over to the bars and handed the tray to the mother through the specially built slot in the gate.

The mother put the tray down on the floor just inside the cell. Both slaves squatted down on their haunches, wincing as the large plugs shifted uncomfortably in their asses. They began to eat greedily. It was always the same meal: oatmeal with raisins, wheat toast and orange juice.

The man took a short stool from under the nearby work bench set along the wall and sat down outside the cell to watch the women eat. His flaccid, but overly large phallus dangled obscenely over the edge of his seat.

"Good morning, cunts" he said pleasantly.

"Good morning, sir," both women answered in unison, smiling up like lunatics.

"Today is a big day," he said formally. "Your last full day of training before we embark on our journey to meet your new mistress."

The women said nothing.

"I want to start off today with a friendly warning," he said. He stood up abruptly and began pacing back and forth in front of the cell.

"Remember, this is not my first rodeo. I've been in this situation dozens of times. I know that some slaves at this point contemplate a last-minute bid for escape. They know that once they are on the ship, it will be too late, so they figure why not roll the dice here?"

The women studiously examined their food. They did not look up or exchange glances.

The man stopped pacing and stood facing the squatting women.

"I'm telling you to forget it," he said evenly. "As I already told you, I change the access code to the cell lock daily. Even if you somehow overpowered me, there is no way you can get out. There are no other houses within ten miles. If your get trapped in the cell, you will die slowly of starvation."

He reached up and gripped the bars of the cell.

"I suggest you both surrender yourselves to your fate. You are slaves now. Embrace it! Make the best of it. Your old lives are over. Things will go easier for you both, once you give up all hope. I've captured over a hundred slaves. None of them have ever gotten away. There is no escape. Ever."

He sat back down again and put his hands on his knees.

"Having said that, I understand that you may have questions about what is going to happen to you. I have found that the best approach with new slaves is to be honest and upfront about what will be expected of them. This helps them accept their new situation."

He spread his hands magnanimously in front of him.

"I have been reasonably satisfied with your training thus far, so as a reward I will give you this one opportunity to ask me anything you want."

The man crossed his arms across his chest and waited patiently.

It was the mother who spoke first.

"Why us, sir?" she blurted out. She had been quietly pondering the question for days.

The man was obviously expecting the question. He smiled down at the middle-aged woman who only days ago had been teaching grad students about Keynesian economics.

"Your book," he said simply.

"My book? Sir, I don't understand."

"I wasn't even looking for you two. I was on your campus to take a girl for a customer in Qatar. He's a regular client who likes blond beach bunny types. He uses them up pretty quick. I had one all picked out and was going to grab her the next day. I had a little time to kill, so I went in to the campus bookstore and there was this big display of your newest book at the end of the aisle."

The man paused and absently scratched his balls.

"Anyway, I saw your picture on the back of your book. That really is a great headshot. Then I read the dust jacket and it said you had a daughter. I knew Mistress Mali was looking for a new set of mother-daughter slaves and here was an hot momma dropped right in my lap. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find an attractive pair in the right age range."

The man paused and looked over at the daughter.

"Then I went online and looked up your daughter on the various social media outlets and it turned out she was even hotter than you are," he said brightly.

The man turned his gaze back to the kneeling mother.

"Then I see a poster that says you're having this big party the next day to celebrate your book's release and obviously your whole family was going to be there, so I dropped the Qatar deal and went for you two. The Mistress Mali contract was a much sweeter deal, anyway."

The man held out his hands almost apologetically.

"So, if it wasn't for that book, neither one of you would be here right now," he laughed.

The mother bowed her head and stared at the floor. She could feel her daughter staring daggers at her from two feet away.

It was the daughter who spoke next.

"How much, sir?" she whispered. "How much are you getting paid for us?"

The man considered the question. For a moment, it appeared he would not answer, then he shrugged his shoulders.

"Two hundred and fifty grand for you, one hundred grand for your mom," he said matter-of-factly.

The professor felt like she had been punched in the stomach. One hundred thousand dollars for her life? She had five times as much in her 401k plan.

"Why the big difference in price, sir?" croaked the professor. She couldn't help herself.

"No offense, Professor, but you're forty-three years old. Not much time to recoup your purchase price in the brothels. Nobody wants to fuck a fifty year-old whore."

The mother felt a momentary surge of hope.

"What happens then, sir? When I'm done with the...brothels. Will she let me go?" She caught herself and looked quickly over at her daughter and then back at the man. "I mean...will she let us go?"

The man laughed out loud.

"Of course not," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Slaves are sold for life. When you're no longer able to work in the brothels, you'll be sent to the toilets. That's where both of you will end up eventually if you live long enough," he added casually.

The mother felt true despair for the first time since waking up in the cell almost a week ago. The bottom kept dropping out from under her. At every turn, things just kept getting worse.

She decided to try one last gambit.

"Sir, I don't suppose we can buy our way out of this," said the mother desperately. "My husband is a powerful man in the government. We have money. I'm sure I could get you over a million dollars if you let us go."

The man laughed again.

"Sorry, professor. I know all about your big shot husband in the state department, but you don't fuck with Mistress Mali. I've already sent her your pictures and she has accepted you both for training. The last slaver who tried to double cross her ended up in the sissy stable. He was a good friend of mine, but I couldn't help him. That was four years ago. He's a ladyboy now, named Cassandra. Mali ordered him to blow me last time I was there. He's damn good at it."

The man absently reached down with his right hand and began to play with his cock. He looked down at it lovingly.

"Can you tell us anything else about our...owner?" asked Summer haltingly.

"Mistress Mali?" he said brightly. "She's a great gal. Sadistic as hell, but she sure knows how to throw a party. I'd say she runs about two-fifty, three hundred pounds. Complete dyke, all the way. Sits around her villa in a big moo moo with nothing underneath, except her current tongue-slave, of course" he laughed.

"Why mothers and daughters, sir?" This question was from the professor.

"Who knows? That's just her thing. Always western women. Always mother and daughter pairs. Maybe she had issues with her own mom. I know she uses them pretty hard," he said ominously.

He sat back and crossed his legs, warming to the subject.

"At first she just kept the mothers and daughters as her personal house slaves. Then she realized that the customers in her brothels would pay a lot of money to fuck a mother and daughter together. So, now it's a matter of economics. She's developed a nice little niche in the sex tourism market. At last count, I think she told me she had twelve sets of mother-daughter pairs working full time in the brothels. Some are from Europe, but most are American. They all started out as her personal slaves. It really is quite an efficient operation."

The man uncrossed his legs and looked down at his cock. Both women were not surprised to see that he was already starting to get an erection.

"But she always keeps one special pair for herself in the villa," he continued. "Until she tires of them. Then she sends them to the brothels and brings in new talent."

He paused.

"Like you," he said, looking the professor in the eyes.

The man stood and looked at his watch.

"Now, if there are no further questions, we really should get started. We've got a big day ahead of us."

The man snapped his fingers.

"Center of the room, cunts. Inspection position."

Both women scrambled to their feet and bounded over to the middle of the room. They stood straight with their legs spread wide and their hands laced behind their necks and looked down at the ground.

He began to circle the two women slowly. When the man was behind the mother, he paused and reached out with his right hand to pinch her ass.

"Open those legs wider, slut. I want to see those cunt lips pouting at me."

The professor immediately shifted on her feet to spread her legs a few inches wider. The man withdrew walked around to face the professor. He reached down and cupped her vagina proprietarily with his right hand before slapping it gently with the palm several times.

"Not bad," said the man withdrawing his hand. "Now, turn around both of you, bend over and spread your ass cheeks," he said sharply. "Time to check your grooming."

The women were used to this command by now. Both slaves immediately spun around and bent over at the waist, pulling their ass cheeks apart with both hands.

The man put began to systematically inspect each woman for stray hairs. He ran his fingers up and down ass cracks and taints, then took his time feeling around the rim of each woman's anus, pulling back slightly on the butt plugs to stretch the skin taught. Finally, he got down on his knees behind each woman and prized apart the the lips of their vaginas with his left hand, while running the fingers of his right hand along the edges of both outer and inner labia to make sure even the finest hairs had been removed.

"Not bad, cunts," he said as he stood. "You've been doing a reasonable job with your shaving."

"Thank you, sir," both women said softly. They remained in position, holding open their ass cheeks awkwardly.

"Resume inspection position," barked the man.

Both slaves immediately complied.

The man walked over to the rack of whips by the bed and selected the five-foot single tail whip. He stepped back over to the slaves and began to circle them slowly, coiling the whip menacingly in his left hand. Both slaves' eyes widened at the sight of the big whip.

When the man was standing in front of the mother, he paused.

"Present that cunt to me," he said casually. "Stick it out. Put it on display." He began lightly tapping her bare vulva with the whip handle.

The mother winced slightly, but did not pull away. She tilted her pelvis and thrust out her pussy toward the man.

"Very good, Professor," he said withdrawing the whip handle and shifting it to his right hand. "I think we've got the angle now. Here, let me give it a try."

In one fluid motion, the man stepped back and spun around, swinging the whip in a short, brutal arc. There was a sharp cracking sound as the stiff braided leather tip landed directly between the older woman's pussy lips.

The man's hands were so quick that the professor had no time to register what was happening. One second, she was standing there and thrusting out her pussy and the next there was an impossibly hot blossom of fire between her legs, followed by a rippling wave of pure, pulsating, agony.

In experienced hands, the amount of kinetic energy produced by the impact of a five-foot single tail whip is extraordinary. It has to do with basic physics and the preservation of momentum as the wave-form travels from the handle to the tip. The bottom line is that all of the energy built up along the entire length of the whip gets concentrated in to the terminal centimeter at impact. When applied against the flesh of a human being, this energy gets transferred directly to the victim in the form of a burst of blunt-force trauma conducted across a small area of contact about the size of a postage stamp.

In other words, it really, really hurts.

For the mother, the pain was a completely alien physical phenomenon. Quite simply, it was the most intense quantum of agony she had ever experienced in her forty three years on planet earth. It was like having the geometric center of her vagina stung by a bee, zapped by a taser and burned with a blow torch at the same time. The net result was an instantaneous hard reboot of her entire nervous system.

She did not remember falling to the ground or moving her hands reflexively to cover herself. She had no recollection of starting to scream. Nor did she feel her bladder let go.

The man stood over her patiently. He had seen it all before. He waited for the initial neurological electrical storm to pass. Based on past experience, he knew it would take from one to three minutes before the mother would be able to once again process information from the outside world.

While the professor basically flopped around on the floor like a carp and shrieked bloody murder, the man calmly looked over at the daughter. She was standing stock-still in her inspection position. Her eyes were practically bugging out of her head. She was hyperventilating in terror. The man noticed with satisfaction that the girl was trembling.

Things were moving along nicely.

The man looked down at the squirming figure of the mother. She had stopped screaming and was now mewling softly in the fetal position with her hands clasped firmly against her injured sex.

"On your knees, cunt," said the man curtly.

The woman didn't move.

The man pulled his right arm back and struck the floor with the whip, just inches from the older woman's face.

The professor screamed and scrambled to her knees.

The man looked down at the floor and pretended to spot the puddle of urine between the slave's legs for the first time.

"Oh, my goodness! Did you wet yourself?" the man asked in mock consternation. "Such a dirty girl you are, Professor."

The man snapped his fingers.

"Please stand, Professor and resume your position," he said curtly.

Still whimpering, the woman began to pull herself slowly to her feet. Her left foot slipped in the expanding puddle of urine, but she was able to right herself. After a few moments, she had resumed her previous inspection position.

The man walked over to the mother. He placed the handle of the whip under her chin and looked in to the slave's eyes.

"I reviewed the video feed from this morning. I do it every morning. Nothing fancy, just fast-forward thought the night and your morning matins to make sure you don't get up to any deviltry while my back is turned."

He transferred the whip to his left hand and used his right hand to clasp the professor under the chin.

"Today, I noticed something funny. Your daughter made you cum three times in a row in only twenty-six minutes, but when it was your turn to reciprocate, you lounged between her legs for over forty-five minutes and produced only one feeble orgasm. Then you made her sit on your face and basically do all the work for her final two cums."

The man let go of the mother's face.

"Present your cunt," said the man curtly, transferring the whip again to his right hand.

The mother began to whimper softly, but complied, tilting her pelvis forward and offering her wounded pussy for inspection.

The man man bent down and examined the mother's pale, bald vulva. There was an angry red welt bisecting her outer pussy lips about halfway up. He congratulated himself on his aim. A clit-shot would have been too much for the older slave. She would have been incapacitated for hours. A lip-shot like this was an attention-getter for sure, but not overly disabling.

"Consider this a warning," said the man as he straightened up and looked the older slave in the face. "It's obvious to me that you're not taking your oral training seriously. I can't deliver a slave with a lazy tongue to Mistress Mali. I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

The mother looked down at the floor and continued to whimper softly.

The man paused, then his eyes fell on the puddle of urine on the floor. He turned to Summer.

"Lick up that mess, cunt," he barked sharply.

Summer didn't hesitate. She bounded over to the cooling puddle of urine and got down on all fours, then lowered her face to the floor and began to lap up the urine, making loud slurping sounds as she curled her tongue to funnel the acrid liquid into her mouth as rapidly as possible.

Summer had her ass to her master as she lapped up her mother's mess. The man looked down at her shapely rump, then absently reached down and flicked the large butt plug. As usual, using the whip had aroused him. He looked down at his semi-rigid cock, then again at Summer's tempting ass.

He snapped his fingers at the mother.

"On your knees. Fluff me up. Quickly now. Worship position," the man said sharply.

The mother immediately dropped to her knees behind her daughter and crossed her wrists at the small of her back. She opened her mouth wide and took in the man's rapidly hardening cock. Without being told, she swirled her tongue underneath the head for several seconds, then expertly deep-throated the nine-inch shaft to the hilt. She swallowed several times around the entire length of his cock, letting her throat muscles contract rhythmically for a few moments, then began to piston her head up and down the shaft, maintains perfect suction throughout each excursion. She looked up into the man's eyes as she had been trained.

The man stared down and contemplated his options.

"You can sure suck cock," he said almost gently. "I'll give you that. It's your pussy-eating that worries me."

Abruptly, he withdrew his cock from the older slave's mouth. He got down on his knees behind Summer and began to roughly pull the plug from the younger slave's ass. The anus gaped obscenely as the large head of the plug came out with an audible plop.

"Open," he said to the kneeling mother.

The professor opened her mouth wide to receive the four-inch plug. The man had to reach down and hold the back of her head with one hand as the other forced the plug past her lips. The slave's cheeks bulged and her lips flattened around base of the large silicone protuberance. She stared straight ahead and remained kneeling, breathing evenly through her nose.

Without preamble, the man leaned forward and thrust his hips forward, burying the entire length of his glistening cock into Summer's ass.

The college girl grunted once, but did not interrupt the cadence of her slurping. She continued to methodically suck up the diminishing tide of her mother's urine from the floor.

The man looked over at at the kneeling mother as he fucked Summer leisurely.

"Why can't you be more like her, you dumb cow?" he asked crossly as he gently slapped Summer's ass cheeks with both hands. "She's energetic and obedient, never sullen and sluggish like you."

He continued to fuck for a few seconds before resuming the conversation.

"And she licks cunt like a pro. That's obvious from the tapes. She's a natural don't you think?" he asked almost collegially.

The mother hesitated for a second, then nodded. After all, her daughter had just made her cum three times in less than a half hour.

"If only you could be more like her, I'm sure Mistress Mali would be happy," he said wistfully.

The man turned his attention back to summer and began to increase the pace of his fucking. The slurping sounds had gradually diminished as the younger slave's tongue tracked down the last remnants of her mother's urine. The man was gratified to see the slave's head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm as she transitioned from slurping to systematically licking up the residual moisture from the cold concrete.

The man reached over and cupped the mother's chin as he fucked.

"How can I make you more like her?" he asked himself as he looked into the older slaves eyes.

Then he froze. He stopped fucking and remained still with his cock in Summer's ass. He was gratified to feel the slave's anal sphincter continue to contract rhythmically around his shaft. He looked back and forth between mother and daughter for several seconds, then smiled broadly.

"I've got it!" he said brightly.

The man let go of the mother's chin and placed both his hands on Summer's hips and began to fuck her in earnest. After only a minute, he exploded deep into her bowels. He pulled out and stood up, then reached down and pulled the plug from the mother's mouth.

"Clean her," he said brusquely.

The mother got down on all fours and nuzzled her face between her daughter's cheeks, extending her tongue deep inside her dilated anus. She began to suck and lick the cum out of the rim of her ass as she had been trained.

Summer, having completed her task, remained still as her mother attended to her. It was a familiar ritual. She shifted her knees slightly further apart to allow her probing tongue easier access to her depths.

Out of the corner of her eye, Summer saw the man step over toward her. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth to receive his softening cock. She gently sucked and licked it clean for several minutes, until he withdrew it from her mouth and walked away.

The man sat down on the bed a few feet away and looked down at the younger slave.

"I have a proposition for you, Summer," he said quietly. "It concerns your mother."

Summer looked up sharply. The man had never called her by name before. He aways called her cunt or whore. The man smiled down at her, obviously amused by her surprise.

"It's clear that what I'm doing here isn't working," said the man evenly. "I don't know if she's too old or too lazy, but the bottom line is that your mom can't eat pussy worth shit. I simply cannot deliver her to Mistress Mali in her current state, but I can't think of anything else I can do to improve her skills."

Summer just stared up at the man in silence. Her mother continued to slurp loudly in the background. Summer felt a trickle of semen leak down her taint and idly lifted one leg slightly until she felt her mother's tongue track it down.

"You, on the other hand, are great at eating cunt. You have a natural aptitude. The video doesn't lie," he said, pointing up at the surveillance camera in the corner. "One time, I saw you make her cum on less than a minute!"
Summer didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything.

"We have to find some way to transfer your skills to your mother, Summer. If not, I'm afraid she won't last a week with Mistress Mali before being sent to the toilets. I mean it. I've seen it before."

Summer felt her mother's tongue slacken in her anus. The older woman was obviously listening closely to the conversation.

"And not only that, but Mali might not even pay up if she's a dud. I'm expected to get the slaves trained reasonably well in the month I have them. Mali always tries them out as soon as they arrive. If your mother flops, there's no way I'll get full price."

Finally Summer spoke.

"What can I do, sir? I mean I let her practice on me whenever she wants, what else can I do?"

The man paused for effect, then dropped his bombshell.

"You can take over her training. I want you to be her mistress. I'm going to make her your pussy slave."

Summer felt her mother's tongue stop for a few seconds, then resume more slowly than ever.

"But I..." Summer stammered.

The man held up his hand.

"Hear me out, Summer. This is a big opportunity for you. Your old life is over. Now it's time to make the best of your current predicament. Mistress Mali keeps several of her slaves in-house permanently as over-seers. They are never sent to the brothels or the toilets. Instead they help out around the household and keep the other slaves in line. If you can show Mistress Mali, that you are capable of taking charge, there's a good chance she'll keep you on as an over-seer. Permanently. She's always looking for good help."

The man paused and leaned forward.

"And what better way is there to show that you can take charge, than delivering up your own mother up as a perfectly trained tongue slave to be used for Mistress Mali's amusement?"

Summer stared straight ahead. Her mind was reeling, silently calculating her options. Every time the man mentioned the brothels, a shudder of revulsion ran through her entire body. She knew she wouldn't last long being passed around from man to man in some dingy cell. What then? The toilets? She didn't even want to think about that.

Now the man was offering her a way out. All she had to do was train her mother to eat pussy. How hard could that be?

The man snapped his fingers.

"That's enough, cunt," he said curtly to the mother. "Come kneel by the bed."

The mother gave her daughter's ass-crack one more long lick, then crawled over and knelt at her master's feet.

The man looked down at Summer, then patted the bed next to him.

"Please sit, Summer," he said calmly. "Tell me what you think of my proposal. Please."

Summer stood slowly and walked over to the bed. She sat down next to the man and looked at the man, then down at her kneeling mother.

Summer stared down at the older slave for a long minute. Her mother kept her eyes on the floor. Summer had to admit she was intrigued. After being used and abused for almost an entire week, it felt good to be in a position of power. She decided to press her advantage.

"If I do this," said Summer, shifting her gaze to the man. "If I help you train her properly, I'll get a break, right? No more beatings."

The man nodded. "That's right," he said evenly.

She paused and eyed the man warily.

"And no more fucking," she added hopefully.

The man smiled. He said nothing for several seconds, then raised both hands out in front of his chest, as if stopping traffic.

"Sure. You'll be like my partner. You don't even have to eat her pussy anymore. You're trained up. I can see that. It's your mom I'm worried about. Keep her as your pet for the whole journey. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. You'll have three weeks aboard ship to get her tongue in working order. I'll leave you alone as long as I see that she is making progress."

Summer paused for a few more seconds, then nodded to herself.

"Okay, I'll do it," she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Great," said the man crisply. "Let's just get her udders whipped and then I'll leave you two alone for the day. I'm sure you'll want to to start her training right away."

Summer blinked.

"Whipped? I don't think that's necessary sir. I'm pretty sure I have the situation in hand. If she's disobedient, I will let you know, of course," said Summer in what she hoped sounded like a casual, workaday voice. Her heart was hammering in her chest. "I mean, we should work on her pussy-eating, right?" she added lamely.

The man stood.

"No, Summer," he said reproachfully. "It's more than that. You need to own her. You need to take possession of her. She needs to fear you."

The man reached down and retrieved the big whip from the night stand. He handed it to Summer.

"Convince me you have the power to command, Summer. Twenty strokes across the udders. I want to see twenty welts as thick as my thumb."

Summer paused, looking down at her mother. The whip felt alien and malevolent in her hand, like an exotic venomous snake.

The man crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Of course, if you're not up to it, we can forget the whole thing," said the man icily. "We can continue the current training regimen for the next three weeks. I believe it's your turn on the breeding bench."

Summer remained stock still. She swallowed hard several times, then stood on shaky legs. She took a halting step and let the whip uncoil from her right hand, watching its length play out on to the floor. She hefted the handle to test the balance.

Summer looked straight ahead into the middle distance for a full minute, then nodded curtly.

The mother had been watching the exchange with increasing horror. Now she looked up at her daughter with wide-eyed panic. She had only felt the sting of big whip once on her first day of captivity. She had taken ten agonizing strokes to her breasts then. There was no way she could take twenty. No way.

She began to rise to somehow get away, but the man was too quick. He reached down and grabbed her firmly by the collar and dragged her across the floor to the center of the cell.

"Go get the handcuffs," he said to Summer. "I'll get her hooked up for you."

The mother's eyes were drawn up to the ceiling above her. There was a large iron meat hook embedded in the concrete. She had hung from the hook dozens of time during punishment training, but this was different. This was the big whip.

Summer trotted over to the rack on the wall by the bed and retrieved the heavy steel cuffs. She avoided her mother's eyes as she handed them to the man. He expertly cuffed the older woman's trembling wrists in front, then hoisted them up and looped the short chain over the hook. The slave was forced up on her tiptoes and began to dangle helplessly from the ceiling.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" said the mother, starting to babble. "Please let me eat her again! Please. Oh, God. I'll do better. Please give me another chance!"

"Not yet," said the the man softly. "Time for you to take your medicine. Then you can learn to please your new mistress."

The mother began to crane her neck over her shoulder to catch her daughter's eye.

"Wait, Summer! Hold it! Let's talk, okay? You don't have to do this. We can still fight him together! Please, honey!"

The man walked over to the bedside table and retrieved a spandex slave hood. It had a mouth hole, but no eye holes. He handed the hood to Summer.

"Best to keep them hooded for an extended whipping," he said matter-of-factly. "Keeps them from squirming too much. It's a mercy, really. They don't have to watch the blows coming."

Summer stepped up to her mom. The older woman's eyes were bulging in terror. She was hyperventilating. Summer bent forward and kissed her mother's cheek.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I just can't take it any more," she said softly, then pulled the hood over her head in one smooth motion.

Her older slave began to scream and twirl around on the hook, turning this way and that. She seemed to sniff the air and turn her face from one direction to the next, as if she might be able sense the blow coming and somehow ward it off before it actually landed.

Summer gripped the whip. She coiled it in her left hand as she had seen the man do, then pulled her right arm back and let it fly, throwing a practice stroke at the floor. Her mother shrieked at the loud crack and seemed to stiffen involuntarily. A small trickle of urine dribbled out from between her legs onto the floor.

The mother spun around in blind panic. Time seemed to stand still. When the first hit came, it took her breath away. She heard whistling whoosh, followed by a sharp crack before she felt the impact on her left breast. The soft globe seemed to explode in a blossom of pure molten agony. She tried to scream, but had no breath to do so.

"Well done!" said the man giddily. "A perfect hit on the first try!"

The next hit went low, striking the soft flesh of the mother's belly. The slave shrieked and tried to double over, but was held fast by the hook. She lifted her legs involuntarily to protect her midriff.

"Take a few throws at the back to get your rhythm," said the man patiently. "Don't aim, just pull back and let it go. The whip will find its mark."

The mother felt five crisp blows across the small of her back. She stood up on tiptoes and arched her back in a futile attempt to decrease the force of each impact. She was screaming continuously now.

She felt her left breast grabbed roughly.

"Aim here, so you can get both udders at once," said the man evenly.

The whip sung, whistling loudly through the air.

The mother danced below the hook like a puppet, alternately screaming, begging and sobbing. Her bladder let go again after the fifth stroke across her breasts.

Summer ignored her mother's screams and swung the whip with increasing precision. She was conscious of the man watching her closely. She knew he was grading her performance, testing her resolve. The younger woman redoubled her efforts.

She circled and danced around dangling slave, stepping lightly to keep her balance. She began to hop daintily between strokes and step in to each successively harder strike. Soon, she began to hit exactly where she aimed.

The mother was lost in a black chasm of pain. Her knees had buckled and her shoulders ached as she dangled listlessly beneath the hook in a grim pirouette of despair. She dreaded the whistling whoosh that preceded each impact, but no longer tried to avoid the whip. Dodging was over. There was only the burning pain of the lash.

Dimly, the mother was aware of the man's voice.

"That's ten. Good one, Summer! Finish strong now."

The older slave heard her daughter grunt with effort, then came the awful whistling sound again, followed by the loudest crack yet. Both of her nipples exploded simultaneously into diamond-bright shards of agony.

Summer finally found her rhythm. She grunted with exertion as she launched each throw.

The mother's universe collapsed into a dreadful, implacable cadence of misery.

Grunt...whoosh...crack...grunt...whoosh...crack...grunt...whoosh...crack.

Then came a new sound, even more horrifying than all the others. It was a familiar, musical sound that echoed loudly in the mother's mind, then seemed to leach down into her soul, extinguishing all hope.

It was the sound of her daughter laughing.