Inheritance - Re-Creation

Chapter 4 – History Lessons Part 1

by Creirwy

Tags: #cw:CGL #cw:incest #cw:noncon #cw:sexual_assault #D/s #dom:female #drones #f/f #Hypnosis #pov:bottom #pov:top #sub:female #clothing #exhibitionism #growth #humiliation #multiple_partners #relationship_shift #scifi

Amanda's memories of the dinner last night were fuzzy at best, but Xara seemed to have enjoyed herself, and her good mood was Amanda's good fortune. Theoretically, at least. While Xara wasn't going out of her way to tease her, she had set Amanda's suit this morning to the form of a black leotard and fishnet stockings similar to she had worn at the casino. For the most part Amanda was used to tight, revealing clothes by now, but she was uncomfortably aware of just how much the fishnets dug into her ample flesh and somehow made it seem even thicker.

Yet Xara didn't tease her, she just sat there with an odd smile on her face as Amanda played her footstool.

The doorbell rang. Xara squeezed Amanda's ass with her toes before heading for the door. "You can sit on the sofa now, sexy." Amanda scrambled to obey with a slight blush, the familiar feeling of lost control settling in over her. What was in store for her today?

"Hey, Mom!" Xara said as she opened the door, kissing Mistress Somna on the cheek. The white-haired dominant smiled, caught Xara's chin and gave her a deeper, more sensuous kiss on the lips, eyes staring into her daughter's. Amanda could have sworn she saw Xara shiver, but that would have been silly.

"Morning, Xara, sweetie. Morning, Amanda, pet." Somna stepped around Xara and languidly walked in, looking around the room as she did so. Xara stood by the door for a moment before closing it, shaking her head and licking her lips, leering at Somna's shape in its tight leather dress wrapping.

Layla padded across the floor in her tiger-strip bikini, mewling as she inspected the new arrival. Amanda wasn't sure if she could even recognise the famed hypnotist in her current persona, but her catlike curiosity was enough to bring her over. Somna smiled, bent at the waist and scritched Layla behind an ear, earning her trust.

"Good morning, sexkitten. Got a special treat for you," she cooed, reaching into her bag and pulling out a toy mouse. She dangled it by the tail before Layla, who batted it with a pawed hand. The toy squeaked gently, and Layla coked her head. Somna leaned in closer, holding the mouse before Layla's eyes as she whispered in her ear, using her free hand to trace complicated patterns on the brainwashed girl's bare back.

Xara approached curiously and watched her mother work. While she couldn't make out the words, Somna's touch and rapid speaking seemed to have a hypnotic effect on Layla, the catgirl's eyes glazing and her mouth drooping slightly. Somna reached further over and gave Layla's backside a squeeze, and the girl woke up with a confused mewl.

"Here you go, sexkitten," Somna sang, dropping the mouse on the floor. Layla inspected it with her eyes, then her nose, then experimentally picked it up in her teeth. As she applied pressure the mouse squeaked again, and this time Layla's eyes rolled back, a deep purr rumbled out from behind the toy, and her thighs clenched, her bikini bottom growing damp between her legs. Layla stumbled to one side on all fours, squirmed her ass around and huffed air through her nostrils.

"Oh, that might get annoying," Xara smirked as Layla squeaked the toy again, repeating her pleasured display. "I hope she won't stay up all night squeaking that thing."

"Perhaps you should find her a nice boy cat to mate with," Somna chuckled. "Then she wouldn't need it."

"Mmm..." Xara seemed to consider it as she walked back to Amanda. "Mom's here to teach me some hypnosis skills, Manda."

"That's very kind, Miss," Amanda replied, looking between the two suspiciously.

"We need a subject to practice on. Thanks for volunteering."

Amanda blushed. "I didn't volunteer... Mistress."

"Being hot is volunteering," Xara chided. "Also it's in your contract."


"When you signed your right to autonomy over to me, silly."

"I don't remember doing that, Mistress Xara." Amanda squirmed.

"Well, duh. Waiting for you to read everything you needed to sign would've taken too long, I just conditioned you to always sign anything that's put in front of you."

Amanda's own thighs rubbed together. "But... That's..."

"Here." Xara fished out a tablet, swiped the screen a few times and held it in front of Amanda. Without hesitation Amanda used a finger to sign it, only retroactively considering reading it. Xara smiled. "'I hereby consent to my most glorious Mistress Xara, my goddess and my owner, using my pliable, needy, degenerate brain as her practice tool in her pursuit of learning the art of hypnotism such that she can more easily and independently control my every thought, whim, desire and action.'"

Amanda whimpered and looked down at her feet.

Somna took a seat next to Amanda and pulled her green pendant out from her cleavage. "I'd tell you to watch the pendant, pet, but I already know you will."

"How DO you always know how to push a person’s buttons?” Xara queried. "You seem to know how to press everyone's buttons."

"Experience, darling," Somna replied. "But I also have a few drones in Nyna's storage banks dedicated to storing and transmitting information about potential subjects and their weaknesses or preferences should I need it." She pointed at Layla. "Touch and intimacy." Then at Amanda. "Focus." Somna then smiled at Xara. "Mothering."

Xara flushed. "Bullshit," she started.

"Language, Xara Nocturne," Somna cut her off.

"Sorry, Mommy," Xara said, contrite, then blushed darker and scowled. "Goddamn it. Just show me how to be a hypnodomme."

"As you wish." Somna grinned, winking at Amanda as she held the pendant up. "Confidence is key. Always know that girls with the hypno-sub gene will go into a trance. They're genetically mandated to, it's all a matter of knowing how to nudge them. Some take a bit more effort than others. Some just need something to focus on..." She nodded at Amanda, whose eyes were already hooding as they followed the pendant’s swaying. "And some are so easy to drop they sometimes do it accidentally, out in public. Every time I'm featured on a holoscreen outdoors I get reports of random hypnosubs just dropping wherever they may be."

"Right," Xara mumbled. She had seen a few subs staring blankly at nothing now and then. Thankfully, city rules stated any unaccompanied hypnotised citizen could be temporarily “adopted” by whoever happened to come along first, so they were never left unattended too long. Xara smiled and watched Amanda's slackening jaw, idly fantasising about leaving her in such a state somewhere well-trafficked.

Amanda's eyes suddenly shot wide open and sharpened as she took in a great gasp of air. Xara yelped and jumped in her skin, while Somna merely quirked an eyebrow and casually sat back, folding her hands in her lap. Amanda's eyes focused on Xara and she grinned.

"Ah, my progeny," she began, leaning forward to roll herself into a standing position.

"Huh?" Xara blinked, but Amanda was already distracted.

"Good lord, what are these hips?!" Her hands shot down to prod the offending curves, then run up and down them. "What did you do to this poor girl's body? You really are a pervert."

Xara's cheeks coloured a little as she narrowed her eyes. "Ashe? Is that you?"

Amanda’s body ignored her, locating a mirror across the room and marching over, her excuse for an outfit melting and receding into her metal collar. Xara bristled as her naked girlfriend's body started inspecting its reflection.

"Get out of there!" She shouted. "I was using that!"

Ashe faced Amanda's back to the mirror, looking back over her shoulder and groping the ample flesh in her fingers. "Gracious. You know, I sensed this body connect to the hivemind when I tried to take over but it disappeared so quick I assumed it was a glitch."

Xara stormed over and grabbed her by the shoulder, trying to hide her blush of arousal at the display behind her anger. "You're supposed to ask for permission before taking a body, Ashe, that was the deal!"

"She wasn't using this body," her great-grandmother defended. There were no signs of mental activity so I figured it would be a convenient way to get you a message." Ashe rocked Amanda's hips a few times, briefly obliterating Xara's ability to concentrate as she glanced at the mirror.

"Um. What message?"

"I'm calling you to a meeting in the otherworld. Got some important business to go over with you."

Xara groaned. "Business. Can't it wait? Mom's teaching me hypnosis."

"I'm afraid it can't. Ruby is already there and waiting for you." Ashe smiled and walked back over to the sofa, taking a seat. "Goodness, who needs cushioning."

"Quit objectifying my..." Xara broke off with a blush as she caught Somna's raised eyebrow. "Okay, fine, but get out of her body."

"As you command, Heiress. The message is delivered anyway." Ashe winked Amanda's eye and gave an ironic salute, then her body slumped over, eyes dulling again.


"You should go, sweetheart. It sounds important, if Ruby is there. I'll look after your lover."

Xara regarded her with a look of suspicion. "No fucking with her while I'm gone."

Somna frowned. "I'm hurt. Would I do such a thing to your property, darling?"

Squeak! Layla's high-pitched, orgasmic mewl cut through the pause from the next room over. Somna grinned.

"Fucking family, I swear," Xara huffed as she went into her hobby room, sat down in her gaming chair and donned her VR headset. "Activate. Connect me to Ashe's virtual world."

Lights and colours filled her vision.

Now that it was reconnected to the drone networks, the virtual world felt a little bigger and more refined. It was still very much a slice of something far greater, of course, but the outdoor castle courtyard had more statues, water features and flowers than her last visit here.

Xara found Ashe sitting on throne on a stone plinth, phoenix wings folded behind her. The Matriarch sat in a similar throne, dragon wings wrapped around her like a gown and tail draped across her lap as she stroked it. Between the two, down at ground level, was a life-sized chess board halfway through a game.

"Be with you in a moment, Xara. Pawn 3, queen yourself," Ruby smiled.

One of the pawns, a well-built male, Xara noted, blushed as he took a step across the board. As he reached the row closest to Xara his body went rigid, black peasant's clothes melting into a liquid-like ink that enveloped his body in a way similar to the Swarm encompassing Milo a few days ago. The pawn's masculine form shifted in moments into a pleasantly feminine one, not too curvy by Ananke standards, but when the ink melted from the new Queen's face there was no trace of the anxious man. A black-lipped, well-made-up face smirked back across the board at her new domain, hair in a tight ponytail, back straight and confidence oozing through every fold in her flattering dress.

Ashe whistled. "Love when that happens. Are you going to keep him like that?"

"Naturally," Ruby smiled. "Q2, until the end of your next shift on drone duty you will retain this queenly, feminine persona, even in the real world."

"Not the physical shape," Ashe frowned.

"We did that with the last two. Sometimes it's fun to leave the changes mental-only."

"I'm sure his husband will appreciate the dominance."

"Excuse me, hi," Xara cut in. "Heiress here. What's so important you dragged me away from hypnosis lessons?"

The dommes turned her way. "Ah, yes. Nyna, end the chess match and wake the pieces up? We're done with them for today." The chessboard dissolved, as did the pieces on it and sitting around it, the thrones lowering to the floor. Ashe and Ruby got up and floated across the ground to Xara.

"History lessons," Ashe replied simply.

"History lessons?" Xara clenched her teeth. "Why do I need history lessons?"

"You didn't know who I was, which shows a fundamental lack of understanding of Ananke's history," the phoenix frowned. "No scion of mine will run the city without understanding where it came from."

"Aunt," Xara pleaded, looking to the draconic  Ruby, who just smiled and shrugged.

"I'm curious, too, and I think it would be good for you, pet."

"I don't want to study," Xara complained, "I want to fuck my girlfriend!"

"Like you haven't been doing that enough lately," Ashe muttered.

Xara scowled. "There's no such thing as enough."

"Loving the sexual tension, ladies," Ruby drawled, "but we've got some history to go over. Xara, it won't take too long, and then you can get back to rutting your doll's ass or whatever you crazy kids are doing these days."

"Like you don't do it too," Xara blushed. "Fine. Teach me so I can go back and get started on a much more fun lesson."

"Excellent," Ashe clapped. "We'll start at the beginning or, as close as I was able to piece together a hundred years after the fact. How much do you know about the origin of our little genetic mix-up?"

"Just that there was a curse."

"Indeed," Ashe sighed as the digital realm rebuilt itself into a 20th century city. "Well, then, let's rush through the details."

No one is really sure how it started, and no one really knows a way to find out. The current theory is sometime back around the 1940s a particular family, the Masons, discovered one of their adult heirs was harbouring some impure thoughts. As a highly religious family, once this came to light the parents sent their son away to a foster home; they didn't want his lewd, corrupt desires interfering with their status or relationships.

It is believed this son grew to resent his former family - as one might expect - and found some way to curse them. The only evidence supports this theory: an old letter from the estranged son that condemns the parents as betrayers and promises their heirs will forever carry the sins of their forebears through the generations.

The Masons, upon receiving this letter, spent several long months in deep prayer with their local priests to ward off any evil spirits or curses that might be taking root, and eventually, when nothing untoward happened, the Masons simply moved on with their lives.

But perhaps the family mistook the meaning behind 'sin' for something else. A friend of the father of the Mason household, Harry Dawson, wasn’t as religious but he was more superstitious than average. He kept an eye on the family from afar throughout the years, consulting with the odd mystic here, the odd self-appointed witch there. Decades went by with no sign of any curse, and eventually Dawson passed, as did the Mason parents.

Harry's son, Jeremy, inherited his diaries and notes, and to his bemusement learned of this obsession his father had always kept hidden. Yet Jeremy was himself curious, and wanted his father's legacy to live on. While he had never given specifics, Harry had spoken about hoping to watch over his old friend's family and ensure their safety and prosperity. Curses seemed a little silly, but Jeremy was intrigued.

Jeremy Dawson wondered if the 'sins' spoken of were more mundane, and may have meant something closer to 'depravities'. As a religious family the Masons kept their desires sheltered and in-check, and there was little data, but by the 1970s the descendants of the family had moved far enough away from the church that some were beginning to branch out and immerse themselves in a changing society, one just a little more willing to indulge.

The Masons had run a generations-old shoemaking business, and it was that of all things that caught Jeremy Dawson's eye. For close to sixty years there had been no real change in the style of footwear the company was known for, even as society's tastes marched inexorably forward, but over the course of just two short generations the Mason Footwear Company's products moved from traditional and practical to outgoing, shiny and, in the case of the women's footwear, tall.

This might have gone under the radar, but Jeremy had heard rumours of the father of the former owner having been something of a pervert when it came to his female employee's shoes. They were encouraged to wear high heels into the stores, and Jeremy noticed his daughters also wore high heels, particularly after coming of age. Not shocking, but considering he had never seen them in anything slightly elevated for most of their lives and then suddenly several inches taller in a matter of months, perhaps his father's theory had some weight?

He decided to test the hypothesis out. In the 80s Dawson hired one of the Mason men to join his office empire, selling early telecommunications technology and office computing systems. Dawson Technical Supplies was far more open in its uniform culture than the Mason boy was used to; his own family business had never featured quite so many pretty young girls in such snug skirts and blouses. Several flirted with him, several snubbed him, but they were all attractive and he considered himself fortunate enough to eventually marry one of them.

Of course, Jeremy Dawson would never have set another man up with a wife on false grounds - he had his morals - but he did tailor the uniform design of the office to entice as much as he could get away with, and he even paid some of the women handsome sums to subtly show off to the Mason boy. He had to know if he would develop a fetish, after all. Based on how long into their marriage his wife continued wearing pencil skirts, and how many children they had, Jeremy thought it must have been a success.

"So, vaguely wealthy guy decides to incept kinks in some unwitting kids his dad had kinda deal," Xara intoned without enthusiasm. "I guess it would start off pretty boring."

Ashe nodded. "It wasn't until a sexual revolution occurred that people started being more openly... fetishistic in society. And even today it's not nearly as perverse - I mean, pervasive - as in Ananke."

Xara made to look at her watch, realised it hadn't followed her into the system and sighed. "Alright, what's next?"

The Matriarch smiled. "Jeremy's son took the next step, in a similar style to what your mother continues to do today."

"That sounds absolutely ridiculous."

"Yes, it does. Dad was a little too into the occult and the mysterious. But the fact remains that each of that Mason boy's offspring seem to have a similar weakness to women in office wear. I've done the homework."

"And that's why you've hired me?" Clara frowned and crossed her arms as she sat. "I was wondering what an office supply CEO wanted with an escort, but I didn't think it would be a storytelling session."

Tom Dawson smiled. "It is bizarre, I'll admit, but I'm confident. I don't share my grandfather's devotion to this other family, though, nor my father's fascination with the mysteries of the universe. I simply want to know if this can be... capitalised upon, and I'm willing to pay a handsome sum for your cooperation."

Clara raised an eyebrow. "How much?"

"$100,000 a year. All you have to do is befriend a target and introduce her to... a bit of depravity."

Clara whistled. "I can do that," she grinned. "See if I can get some vanilla girl interested in fetishes and get paid for it? Why the heck not? Who's the target?"


Sophia groaned. Her first day on the job had been tough. Her second had been tolerable, and her third had been hectic. By the end of her first week she was exhausted. Selling mobile phones in a mall wasn't quite what she had expected. Plus, as a sales girl, she was a prime target for horny teen guys roving in bands past the store to check her out, in her black trousers and Dawson Phones t-shirt. Gross.

She clocked out of her shift at five and stepped out into the mall walkway, pausing. She was hungry today, and despite having worked here for five days now she hadn't really had a chance to get the lay of the land. She had moved to the far side of town for this job and it wasn't one of the shopping centres she had visited in her youth.

"In her youth"as if she was that old. She had only turned twenty three months ago.

The mall was quieter as this time of day, many of the stores in the process of closing up. She turned on the spot for a few minutes, trying to orient herself.

"You alright, love?"

Sophia glanced to the source of the voice. A rather attractive lady with hair as black as her own, with brown eyes and only a few years, at most, older than her, stood a few meters away. Instinctively Sophia's eyes snapped to her feet and back, and she winced, hoping it hadn't been obvious. The woman wore shiny black office heels, and it was a minor struggle keeping her eyes on the woman's face instead of her feet, not to mention the rather nice-fitting cotton office skirt the fit woman wore. Annoying; she hadn't been interested in women until around nineteen, when she suddenly started to appreciate pencil skirts and high heels.

"Yeah, I'm just... trying to find the food court..." Sophia mumbled lamely. The stranger smiled.

"I getcha. Follow me, I'll show you the way."

Anywhere, Sophia thought, then cursed herself as the woman turned. Her eyes dipped briefly to that skirt, wondering what the fascination was. "I'm Sophia. I just started working at Dawson Phones this week."

"Great to meet you, Sophia. Name's Clara. I work in the mall's administration office." She didn't bother looking behind her as she walked and talked, which was a relief. It meant Sophia wasn't caught out admiring the woman's confident gait and her gently swaying hips. Bet those high schoolers would love her.

They engaged in some idle conversation as they walked to the escalator, then went up a floor. Sophia tried to keep her eyes on the mall around her as they ascended, but it was too rare an opportunity to see a nice view from this angle and she found her eyes sliding back to Clara's backside a few steps ahead as they rose, right in her eye line. It was only as they stepped off the escalator and Clara turned to her that Sophia snapped out of it.

"Sophia? Did you hear me?" She asked the question with an innocent smile that could have been knowing, or amused.

"Sorry, I was... distracted."

"Oh? By what?"

She knows... "By... someone's outfit?"

Clara raised an eyebrow and looked around. "Oh yeah? Where?"

Sophia made a show of looking around too. "Uh... I think they're gone now."

"Well, that's a pity," Clara smiled as she strutted off.

Don't make the hot new friend think you're a pervert. Say something nice. "Clara, I really like your shoes. Nice! That's not pervy.

"Oh, these? Thank you." The lady grinned, pausing to lift a foot and twist her shoe to show off. "These are just for work. You should see my other shoes."

"I'd love to," Sophia responded, then blushed. The hell was that?

Clara laughed and put a hand on her shoulder. "Tell you what. Let's catch dinner after work a few days a week, get to know each other, hm?"

Sophia blushed. Was this woman coming onto her? She was about to politely decline, but Clara cheekily bumped her hip against her own as she took a breath. "That sounds great."


It turned out Clara was a nice woman to be friends with. Sophia hadn't found many since she moved here for work, so having Clara to socialise with was a relief. She was confident, pretty, self-assured, she didn't seem to mind being the male gaze magnet when the two were together yet she never seemed to be consciously trying to impress the men Sophia knew were looking - she was being herself and enjoying it, and Sophia was a little jealous.

Perhaps that's why when Clara suggested they go to a club she agreed. Of course, she was having second thoughts now, on Saturday night. Over the last few weeks Clara had helped Sophia feel more at home, but she had hinted at a bit of a... more openly sensual nature than Sophia expected from a woman several years her senior. It wasn't the shallow sexual obsession like the girls from high school or even college, either. It was more... precise. Controlled.

Sophia had never been to a BDSM club. She knew that was what Clara was hinting at. She wasn't dumb. Clara had admitted to the deviant hobby without so much as batting an eye, and that confidence - that sexy, winning confidence - had so charmed Sophia at the time she just blushed, nodded and listened. She didn't want her first friend here to feel bad for being open.

Still, this was a bit much. She didn't really feel comfortable walking into a sex club, so she would have to cancel.

Then Clara showed up at her apartment in a tight, tight leather pencil skirt and jacket and boots with heels that must have been three or four inches tall, grinning with her hair in a tight ponytail braid, and how was Sophia supposed to say no to that? Bisexuality it is, I guess.

"Since it's your first time you don't need to get dressed up. And if you don't like it, you don't have to come back. You just seemed interested and I thought it might be good for you," Clara smiled, boots clacking on the tiled floor. Even that sound was hot. Sophia loved it. Every click, every clack an audible representation of those boots hitting the floor, standing on the tiles, putting Clara's weight on the small, thin strips of leather, creaking softly, highlighting how well they fit her shape...

Sophia was starting to understand the whole "step on me" joke she had seen online. Not that she was interested in getting dominated. It was just really easy to go with the flow when the flow was directed by Clara and her easy confidence. She wasn't obeying Clara's orders; Clara was giving her choices and Sophia just didn't want to disappoint her.


They entered a hall, and Sophia immediately regretted her decisions. Too much, too much! Men and women in tight, skimpy clothes, or even tighter, less skimpy clothes; ropes; leashes; whips; high heels - well, those were fine. But the rest was -

A gloved hand caught her own and Clara stepped in front of her, concern on her face. "Hey, you alright, love?"

Sophia's mind briefly returned to their first meeting. Clara kept coming to save her. "It's just a lot. I don't think this is for me..."

Clara smiled gently and tilted Sophia's gaze into her eyes with a hand on the chin. "We don't have to stay if you don't want to. I do think it would be good for you if you did, though. We can take it slow."

It felt nice, really. Nice to be so close to Clara, staring into those sharp, intelligent eyes... being at a disadvantage, being held in place. Sophia could have said no, and she knew Clara would listen. But her friend was trustworthy, and believed in her. "We... can stay, just don't let things go too far?"

Clara smiled, her bright red-painted lips pressing together. "Of course not, pet. Just let me lead, and follow."

Something about that phrase made Sophia's spine tingle.

"Now we're talking," Xara grinned. "One question."

"Just one?"

"Why does Sophia look like Amanda?"

Ashe gave Xara an odd look. "Your squeeze happens to be one of the most direct descendants of this family line. That, and some of the details of the simulation are a little... tweaked by my own experiences and memories, and I was just in her body. The world doesn't revolve around your pet's ass, Heiress."

"Yet," Ruby smirked.

Xara floated into a seated position and surreptitiously put a hand between her thighs. "Come on, let's get this over with."

They started dating. Some weeks they'd dress up nice and go to a restaurant. Some weeks they'd go back to the club. Clara was gentle, and took it slow. She bought Sophia a pair of lock-padded heeled boots a few visits in, and teasingly cajoled her into trying them on. Then she locked them and playfully refused to unlock them until the following morning, if Sophia took care of the dishes.

Sophia didn't tell her, but she suspected Clara was aware how much she enjoyed that. Possibly more than she did, considering her own confusion until someone at the club talked to her about dominants and submissives.

After a month Clara asked if Sophia wanted to be her roommate. It was a good financial decision considering her own relatively low paying job, and it meant spending more time with her friend. And more time being locked in high heels and playfully bullied into doing chores, of course.

It didn't stop there, either. Clara perfectly threaded the needle between respectable businesswoman (with nice, tight pencil skirts) and dominant kinkster with some deep but niche knowledge. When they were out in public they were just a couple of friends, or girlfriends, blending in perfectly. At home, or at the club, they experimented a bit more. Clara introduced Sophia to hobble dresses, which were delightfully tight and restrictive and sexy. Another night she tied Sophia's wrists and ankles together, roped up a harness to keep her back bent back and her chest thrust forward, and they watched a movie together. Sophia found herself becoming aroused a lot easier, and yet Clara never pressed her into sex.

Perhaps it was the haze of arousal, but one day at the club while she was handcuffed and attached by a leash to Clara's swinging hips, clad in dark red leather pants, Sophia found herself not minding the other club-goers being so... in-your-face. Exhibitionism, Clara called it; the love of being on display. She pointed out that Sophia was taking part in it by allowing herself to be led around on a leash, but Sophia argued; she just wanted to submit to Clara.

But then, Clara did know best.

The first time Sophia realised Clara was right was one day at the phone store, eight months after they met. She hadn't quite noticed her wardrobe getting marginally tighter and showier, but one day she was wearing a pair of black yoga pants to work instead of her original business trousers. She caught sight of herself in a shoe mirror at one point and blushed; did they really show off her hips that much? And they barely hid the curves of her ass at all. Why didn't Clara warn her before she came to work?

Because she wants me to be seen, she realised. And the thought made her bite her lip. Her girlfriend wanted her to be admired, to be seen. To be objectified.

And when she was reaching up on her toes to grab a shoebox from the top shelf, her shirt lifting enough to expose some midriff and just how form-fitting the leggings were, when she heard the quiet click of a phone camera and spotted the reflection of a trio of young men snickering behind her, when she didn't turn and berate them but instead remained as she was a few seconds longer than necessary, she realised she wanted it too.


"And how did it feel?"



"...And really good." Sophia blushed as she responded. Clara rewarded her by clasping the collar around her neck and locking it.

"Good girl. Always be open and honest with your mistress." She winked, sitting back on the bed and crossing her legs. Sophia looked up at her, sitting on her knees, topless, wearing only the yoga trousers and her favourite pair of high-heeled bondage boots.

"Yes, Mistress," Sophia replied, eager for the wave of pleasure she often felt calling her roommate that. It still felt dirty, kinky, and so nice to submit, and Clara was great at rewarding good behaviour, even if it had taken some time and effort teaching Sophia what a good reward was.

"You've made some great progress, Soph. You make me so proud," Clara groaned as if she were on the edge of a climax, breathing heavily and rubbing her hands over her breasts and thighs. Sophia blushed and involuntarily squirmed; Clara knew how turned on her needy voice made Sophia and often used it as a reward. At this point Sophia was the apartment maid; so eager was she for these little games she didn't even hesitate when Clara ordered her to do housework or cook. It was all in good fun, after all.

Clara knew that, too. She knew everything. She knew Sophia would look great blonde, and had encouraged her to dye her hair. She knew pink went well with blonde, and had bought Sophia an array of hot pink leggings and tube tops, which she had Sophia wear to the club once or twice. Other dominants treated her like a bimbo - she did look like one, dressed this way - and the disrespect, the objectification... she couldn't deny it was nice.

Clara spread her knees and wriggled. Sophia's mouth watered like some kind of Pavlovian response. "Come eat, slut."

With barely more than a whimper Sophia dove between Clara's legs and licked needily, eyes closing at the feel of her friend's fingers twisting and hooking through her platinum-dyed hair, Sophia’s bare toes rubbing her own hips and thighs and kneading her ass as her knees closed around her neck. All throughout, Clara kept calling her that perfect nickname.

"Good girl..."

"Now this is my kind of history lesson," Xara sighed happily. "Why couldn't classes at college be like this?"

"Ananke is enough. I don't think the rest of the world needs to be quite so..." Ashe screwed her face up at Xara, who was teasing her fingers between her legs. "Open."

"You can't play the morality card, Ashe, you included the sex scene, what historical significance did it have?" Xara challenged, earning a flushed growl in response.

"I'm still processing my consciousness through a dozen horny drone sluts who at this very moment are living out their lewdest fantasies. Forgive me for being unable to censor the lessons."

"Oh, I'm not complaining." Xara grinned. Ruby conjured up a floating chair to sit on as the scene shifted.

"So that was the origin of the curse, and how the humiliation and femme-domme genes were introduced into the family line. We're going to be skipping ahead now, just some minor key moments. These have even less historical sources than the letters and social media posts I had my historians go over, given their clandestine nature."

"Can't wait. Can you make some of the characters have curvier bodies?"

"These are your ancestors, Xara," Ashe griped.

"So? Doesn't that make it hotter?"

"Unlike you, I don't have the incest gene in my bloodstream."

"You don't even have blood."

"Perhaps we could tweak some bits and give you the kink anyway," Ruby smiled, crossing her legs. Ashe stared daggers at her.

"You aren't going to mess with my mind any more than you already have."

The Matriarch nodded ironically. "As you wish, Grandmother."

"Anyway," Ashe clapped her hands, transitioning the scene to a suburban house. "The origin of the incest gene, topically enough, took place a generation later."

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