WETWARE, Part Four

by Marlissa




Fristch had been watching the two girls cuddle for an hour now,
comfortably reclined in a stuffed leather arm chair in the study
of his Cambridge brownstone. The hour before, Fristch had bid
the two girls to touch nipple to nipple only and no closer. He
had watched the two beauties look deeply into one another's
eyes as they rubbed their bullety nipples against one another.
Their hands remained securely locked behind their backs in
handcuffs and they knelt facing each other on a blanket spread
in front of the fire. The two were naked except for the chastity
belt each wore as a matter of course.

From time to time, one would look up at him longingly, silently
pleading to be let loose. Fristch ignored it, though he knew the
two hours of tortured lesbian foreplay was driving each of the
girls mad with frustration. He loved forcing the two girls
through this slow march to orgasm and during the weekends it
would go on for hours and hours until Fristch deigned to allow
them to climax-- either delivering the release himself, or
watching the two pretties please each other. Of course, Fristch
only allowed such pleasure if the two girls had performed to his
satisfaction. And he was so, so demanding.

He rose from his seat. Sissy, the blonde, looked up hopefully,
then returned to her task of nipple-fencing. He unlocked her
cuffs first, and the small red wrists were freed. Sissy moaned
softly, but kept her hands behind her back. Good, she's learning
so well, thought Fristch. Then he looked at his key chain.
There were four keys, each marked "0", "1", "2" and "3." He
took the "1" key and fitted it into the small keyhole in the
chastity belt lock, fitted between Sissy's kneeling legs. The
snap of the lock opening, then the small hole in the leather
crotch revealing Sissy's pink smooth feminine offering.

He took the key and similarly unlocked the cuffs on Prissy, the
newer of the two slave girls. Prissy was still jumpy and in need
of more training, but Fristch had never regretted acquiring her.
She was a wonderful specimen, both physically and mentally.
He slipped the key into her chastity belt and opened the tiny
portal to her sex. Fristch had fitted each girl with the "1" belt
this day, the number indicating the number of digits which the
opening would accommodate.

He reseated himself eagerly. He had fitted each bitch with "0"
chastity belts for the last two days, forbidding naughty behavior,
and it had been miserable for them. Their poor smooth pussies
had been throbbing with desire for 48 hours and Fristch couldn't
wait to allow them a small taste of ecstasy.

"Prissy!"

The long brown-haired beauty looked up anxiously.

"Lick your middle finger. Give it a blow-job. Pretend it's my
cock in your mouth."

Prissy brought her right hand to her large generous mouth,
taking the digit obediently and sucking it. Her brown eyes
blinked and closed and she deep-throated the lucky finger.
Fristch watched approvingly as the girl's cheeks hollowed out
and her tongue wildly thrashed against the intrusive digit. If she
had paid one iota less of loving tribute, he would have whipped
her-- and she knew it.

"Now-- STOP!"

Prissy obeyed, waiting.

"Now give it to your pretty sister Sissy. In her pussy."

Prissy positioned her finger between Sissy's legs. The blonde
moaned as the digit carefully navigated the tight, tiny portal of
the chastity belt, finding soft warm purchase in her slave sister's
girlish cleft. Sissy smiled limply as she felt the finger fill her.

"Now tell your sister how you feel about her."

Prissy smiled. Looking deeply into the blonde's eyes, she said
"I love you Sissy." The gleam in the blonde slave's blue eyes
said the same.

"Now finger the little whore. Fuck your slut sister good,
Prissy."

And Amanda Crossways, now Prissy, proceeded to furiously
finger her sister and lesbian lover. Ben Stein, now and forever
Sissy, accepted the finger-loving gratefully, bucking up as much
as she might to take the long shaft of the finger within her too-
tight pussy. Both of their IQs together added up to well over
three hundred, but it was their naked glistening bodies that
fascinated Dr. Fristch now.

Beads of sweat dripped from Sissy's big blonde curls and
forehead. Her red lips were curled into a twisted smile, her
eyes blinking furiously as they watched her slave sister's finger
disappear into the leather crotch harness down below. She was
hungry, starving for release that Prissy might bring, and Sissy's
mind was empty except for the hope of that release.

Well, not entirely empty. There was always the part of Sissy's
mind that waited slave-like until it was called out by Dr.
Fristch-- the part that did the amazing interesting things that
Sissy couldn't begin to fathom. But like a genie waiting for its
master to rub the magic lamp, only Dr. Fristch could draw forth
that part of Sissy's brain, the part called Ben.

The part called Ben was always there, but it didn't have much to
do with the way Sissy acted. It argued with her, but it always
lost because the thing he said was so dumb. Ben said she was
really a boy, a man actually that worked on computers!
Imagine! With this body that the Doctor loved to use so much,
plush and easy to his touch...no, she WASN'T a boy. Sissy
knew exactly what she was...a "dime-a-dozen" table dancer that
had been lucky enough to be taken in by Dr. Fristch as his
personal girl. And she didn't work on computers...she worked
on her back. She looked at her pretty sister and winked,
thankful to her for pleasuring her.

Prissy caught the naughty wink and wanted to hug her blonde
sister hotly. But the Doctor didn't permit such unauthorized
affection. She too had another part of her consciousness called
Amanda. It told her that she was a professor a some big
college. Right! Like she hadn't been a drug dealer since she
was thirteen. Like they let you be a professor when you had
been in reformatories and jails since you were fourteen. That
was where Prissy had learned to make the older, tougher girl
prisoners happy. And when she had been let out, that was how
she had become a lesbian prostitute. And if she hadn't been
picked up by the cops, she'd still be doing that.

But the judge was ready to stop it. She had a long record, and
the 'three strikes you're out' law meant she'd be put on ice for a
long, long time. If it hadn't been for the Doctor. She
remembered how he had spoken to the judge and gotten her
released to his custody. The judge made clear her status: cross
the Doctor and she would be coming back for a long stay in the
Women's Correctional Institute.

The Doctor had explained to her that Sissy had told him about
her plight and he was happy to help her out. Prissy hadn't seen
her sister in years, but couldn't help remember getting wet
watching their stepfather rape her while she hid in the closet.
She was so cute, so sexy and soft. Their embrace was so hot
that the Doctor had started their training right then and there.
And ever since, the two had been lovers. It was worth it to
submit to the Doctor's sexual kinks, as long as Prissy was
allowed to play with Sissy this way. Not that it made any
difference...one word from the Doctor and her butt would be
back in jail slurping up to the head girl in the cellblock. Too
bad Amanda the 'professor' that howled so often in the back of
her head couldn't come up with a solution to her situation. She
and her sister Sissy were practically slaves to the Doctor.

"Now, Sissy, I think you may reciprocate your slutty sister's
affections. Go on and prepare YOUR finger."

Sissy couldn't help herself and giggled before jamming her
middle finger down in her mouth and deepthroating it. She
hadn't liked lesbianiam at first, but under her sister's loving care
and the Doctor's wicked riding crop, she had learned very
quickly to enjoy it. She sucked her finger torridly, swinging her
hair even as Prissy continued to finger-pump her. Finally the
Doctor ordered her to return the favor. Prissy's eyes opened up
in warm gratitude and the two, face to face now, began to
pleasure each other in earnest.

The Doctor nodded, satisfied with the girls' performance. With
an uncharacteristic patience, he let them go on for another five
minutes, then clapped his hands loudly. The two girls looked
up, their gorgeous faces flushed with lesbian heat.

"Stop."

Frustration, stifled anger and resentment. The two girls were
clearly not happy with their doctor's order, but they dared not
disobey. Their fingers stopped their slippery penetrations in
mid-motion.

"Withdraw."

Two sighs. Wet sparkling fingers left warm hiding holes.

"Clean yourselves up, sluts."

The girls obeyed, tasting each other's creamy creations, licking
fingers like they were coated with sugar. After much loud, self-
satisfied smackings, they dropped their dried fingers and waited
for the doctor's next whim.

"How darling. Now," he snapped his fingers, "heel bitches,
heel!"

The two girls walked on their knees before the seated man, who
was ready with his set of keys.

"Turn around."

The sisters pivotted, backs to their master. Fristch gently
pressed his foot into the back of each girl, forcing them down,
with ass in the air. He considered the two proffered rumps,
naked but for the leather chastity belt that imprisoned their
sexes. He bent over, inserted a key into the chastity belt on the
blonde sister, then the brownhaired one. He noticed their thighs
jiggle and hips shake gently in excitement as pulled the belts
off. Two asses waited for him to pick...which would he prefer?
the girls had to be wondering.

He let them wait for him to choose. The uppity brownhaired
bitch was taking to her training well. Prissy was a wonderful
little maid. Despite her dyke leanings, she had learned to give
head especially well. Sissy bothered him though. Despite
being the more bimbo-ish of the two, she had been so hesitant,
so skittish. He knew she hated him to use her from behind.
Probably vestigial masculine feelings. Had to be dealt with, just
had to be.

He rose from his sat, the girls remaining prostrate, eyes warily
viewing him from the floor. Fristch pulled a long object out of
the "toy chest." As he passed by, he dropped it next to Prissy.

"Put it on," he casually instructed.

Prissy excitedly slipped the belts and fasteners of the object
around her wasp waist. Sissy couldn't see what it was, since the
Doctor had forced her head down with his slippered foot.
Finally he let up. "Turn around Sissy."

Sissy obeyed, her sexy sister still out of her range of sight. She
remained prostrate, but now she faced her master's feet. He
bent down and patted her head like a puppy.

"Prissy, she's all yours. Do her well. Let her know that Big
Sister loves Little Sister's tight little puss-box!" Sissy felt her
sister's hands dig into her plump hips and stab dagger-like the
strap-on dildo into her soft woman-ness. Sissy screeched, but
Prissy had her orders. The older girl plunged the rubber ram
deeper into the bent over younger blonde, forcing the dildo deep
into the helpless girl.

"No reason to put that mouth to waste, is there?" the Doctor
said.

Miserably, she shook her head and lowered her wet lips on the
cock that emerged from the folds of his robe. As she took it,
and the fake cock from behind, the Doctor ran his hands through
her yellow hair, occasionally yanking it as she drew her mouth
too far from her proper idol of worship.

"Prissy, you're really giving it to Little Sister here. Pretty whore
loves cocks, so I'll have to let you do this to her quite often.
Still think you're a boy, Ben Stein?"

Sissy shook her head, soundless shouting "no, not anymore,
please, it hurts!" But the cry was muffled by a stiff male
member and no one heard it. She knew that her stubborness
would get her in trouble! She continued to gobble the cock and
buck her hips against big sister Prissy as she continued to use
her from behind.

"And the great Amanda Crossways-- just a horny little lipstick
lezzie, right Prissy?"

The Cindy Crawford look-alike nodded sweetly for her owner
as she drove the stiff artificial dick into her former boyfriend.
Fristch enjoyed the spectacle for a few more minutes. But even
as he came into Sissy's mouth and Sissy herself was nearing
orgasm, he decided to switch positions with Prissy. Variety
was the spice of life.


*************************

Six months later.

Old Fristch has done well for himself, thought the Dean as he
admired the Louisburg Square townhouse. Haven't we come up
in the world! He took the huge brass lion's jaw doorknocker
and let it fall. He preferred using the ornate doorknocker to the
modern doorbell.

A maid answered, a pretty dark haired girl dressed in the
traditional maid's uniform favored by the wealthy.

"Dean Synster to see Doctor Fristch, please."

"Of course, Sir. The Doctor is expecting you. Please follow
me." The shapely creature pivotted smartly on her black stiletto
heels and minced into the halls of the great home. The Dean
was an older man, well into his late sixties, but he had an eye
for female beauty. This girl was an absolute charm to watch
and his eyes followed the fulsome, tightly packed hips as they
swung from side to side.

"Please sit, Sir. May I fetch you a libation?" she asked humbly,
expectantly. She had bent over, her cleavage spilling out ever
so teasingly from the top of her tafetta. She was exquisite, so
respectful! And so old-fashioned-- a libation? He smiled,
shaking his head.

"Nothing my dear. Just let the Doctor know I'm here."

"I'll let my master know you're here, Sir. Right away Sir." She
smiled, curtsied and spinning around delicately, went to
announce him to Frictsh.

The Dean was amazed. The girl was so pretty, so seductive,
so...obedient. Fristch was a lucky man. Finding a female who
wasn't offended by such a domestic role was difficult. What
with all the foolish feminist nonsense that flowed like sewage
on his own campus, well... The politically correct garbage that
polluted the country's academic institutions made such pleasant
anachronisms as a uniformed maid an impossibility! And he
was sure as he watched her firm figure disappear, that the maid
was dressed fully to the part...down to the tiny garter belt that
peeked out from underneath her tiny black taffeta skirt.

"Dean!" Fristch looked well. Instead of his famed rumpled
tweed, he wore an Armani suit of pressed wool. He had a tan as
well.

"Doctor! Thank you for seeing me." He smiled unctuously.
Their last meeting had not been so cordial. He hoped the
world's newest Nobel prize winner would forget the factors
surrounding that meeting.

"My pleasure! Please, sit down. And thank you for seeing
me." He looked around in annoyance. "I see you don't have a
drink. Prissy! Come here!"

Prissy the maid pranced back in, with a worried frown.
"Master?"

"Why haven't you brought the Dean a drink?" And before she
could answer, he yanked up her short taffeta skirt. The Dean
had been correct as her garter belt was revealed, as well as her
black lace panties. The girl covered her face with both hands
and the middle aged scientist gave her a quick succession of
hard, hard swats on the seat of her skimpy panties.

The Dean nervously cleared his throat and Fristch looked up. "I
told her I didn't want anything, Dr. Fristch. She did ask."

Fristch nodded in disappointment, dropping the skirt. "Well,
she probably has done something, I assure you Dean. She's
incorrigible, believe me. Anyway, fetch us a drink Prissy."

The maid stifled her sniffles and curtsied. "Very good, Master.
the Merlot?"

Fristch shook his head. "No, stupid girl. This is a celebration.
Bring us some two glasses of the Vale D'Or '68, a nice
sparkling wine," he explained to the Dean. As the girl left the
room, Fristch noticed the Dean's interest in the maid.

"A pretty thing, but you can't imagine how much supervision
she needs. Always in need of correction. Both she and her
sister."
Sister? How marvelous to have two such darling things waiting
on you, you old dog! Dean Synster brooded. He was envious.

"Anyway," Fristch continued, "Thank you for coming. First,
may I offer my condolences."

The Dean returned the comment with a blase nod. His wife of
forty years had just passed away, much to his relief. It had
seemed like a good idea to marry a Regent's daughter, however
much a shrew. And it had brought him the position he had
always wanted, though at quite a cost. But after what seemed
centuries of a loveless marriage, he was free-- free! But he
couldn't tell Fristch that. So he nodded politely.

Prissy returned with a silver tray bearing two hollow stemmed
crystal glasses filled with golden bubbling champagne. Silently
she offered the glasses to each man. Fristch patted her rump
appreciatively.

"Master?" The darkhaired maid batted her eyes, waiting to be
recognized. Fristch gave her a nod and she continued. "My
pretty sister Sissy wishes permission to speak with you. She
wishes further instructions."

Fristch waved her out. "Bring her in. This should take only a
minute."

As the blonde bombshell traipsed in, the Dean held his glass
tightly. She was marvelous-- a veritable Hollywood starlet or
model at the least. Her bust pressed snugly up against the only
garment she wore-- a long white lab coat. Was there a skirt
under there? He thought he could spy the top of a pink lace
bra. Her legs were bare, her skin smooth and glowing. Her
hair was loose and curly, flowing over her shoulders and back.
Her lips were pursed and ready to take a kiss.

"What is it Sissy?" Fristch demanded.

"Master, I've finished my last little chore-- perfecting the neuro-
tendon controls."

"Aren't you a clever little wench, Sissy!" Fristch noted snidley.

Sissy took the comment as the greatest possible compliment.
She curtsied, smiling cutely. "Thank you, Master," she gushed.
"I'm happy to please you."

"Of course you are. Now, since you need another little chore to
perform, let's find one for you. Have you any dirty clothes?"

Sissy nodded.

"Why don't you hand clean your dainties so they'll smell nice
and fresh as flowers. And wash your sister's pretties too, my
pet."

The blonde blinked and curtsied. "Yes, Master." And with
mission in hand, the blonde pranced out of the room.

Fristch smiled indulgently. "They have the hottest little
collection of lingerie you've ever seen. It's the only hobby they
have so they really throw themselves into it. Now Dean, there's
something I really need your help with."

The Dean smiled weakly. What could he do for a man with a
sexpot teenage maid and a lab assistant with the mind of
Madame Curie and the body of a porn star? "Anything in my
power, Doctor." He spread his palms up, summoning invisible
authority.

"Good. I know you're terribly short of faculty right now. The
disappearance of Stein and Crossways hasn't been solved has
it?"

Dean Synster shook his gray head. "No. Nothing. Just the
notes each left. Family's heard nothing, police have no leads,
and we're short two brilliant professors."

Fristch nodded sympathetically. "Yes, too bad. But I think I
can help. How would the University like to have a Nobel prize
winner on faculty?"

The Dean took this in slowly. Fristch wanted to come back.
"Doctor, your work with robotic prosthetics is groundbreaking
and you certainly deserved the prize," he summed up slowly.

"Yes, but mere gimmicks, Dean. The real stuff is in there," he
pointed to the lab upstairs. "Sure to bring glory to the
University."

The Dean smiled thinly. "I'm sure. But Doctor Fristch, with
such success as you've established you could go anywhere in
the world and be taken in as a valued member of the faculty.
Why not start your own institute? I'm sure you could arrange
funding without a problem."

Fristch shook his head vigorously. "No. I want to come back
to MIT."

The Dean pondered this. After a while, he spoke, enunciating
every word. "You know that I can't do that. It was part of our
legal agreement with that...girl."

Fristch smoothed the lapel of his dark finely tailored jacket.
"Yes! Poor Heidi. What a misguided lass." He looked up,
then looked down at the Dean's feet. "Oh my! I'm so
embarrassed!"

"What? What is it?" Dean Synster looked down at his loafers.
Under the skirt of the chair poked a familiar sight. Gingerly he
pulled the pink item and held it before him, flabbergasted. It
was a two and a half foot long double-headed dildo!

"The girls DO have a habit of leaving their toys out. My
apologies." He clapped sovereign-like and the two girls came
running. "Girls, what have I told you about putting your toys
away?"

The Dean looked at the pretty domestics, who chewed lips
nervously and studied the Oriental carpet intently. Finally Sissy
whispered. "You said to put them away, Master." Prissy
twirled her brown hair manically, then added softly, "Yes,
Master, you did."

"Fine. Well, if you leave them out, I guess you want to play
with them. Dean, do you mind? This is a lesson they need to
learn."

The Dean sipped his champagne unsteadily and dumbly
nodded. He had no idea of what to expect. Surely Fristch
wouldn't make them---

"Strip to your undies girls."

Sissy, the blonde lab assistant, shrugged shyly and unbuttoned
her lab coat. She let it fall off her thin arms, puffing her chest
out, and the white coat dropped behind her. She stood standing
in nothing but a pink lace push-up bra, matching pink thong
panties and pink five inch heeled shoes. She had transformed
from proper lab helper to steamy sex kitten in seconds.

Prissy, the brownhaired beauty, daintily untied her apron and
reached back to unzip her little black dress. Gently the uniform
slooped down her buxom bodice till she was clad in black
bustiere, black lace panties, garter belt and stilt black heels.

"Now girls, show the Dean here what dyke bimbos you are.
Sissy, kneel in front of your airhead big sis and pull off her
panties for her."

Sissy obediently fell to her knees and did so, ever so gently
pulling down the panties to show off the smooth pleasure notch
of the maid. Dean Synster was growing hard-- the first time in
years! Fristch then told Prissy return the favor, which the maid
did with considerable relish. The Dean noted the older girl was
practically drooling as the blonde bared her own shaven snatch.

"Watch this Dean-- the sluts love it! In your favorite position
bitches-- on your backs! No, no, no-- the way we've done it
before-- pussy to pussy! Good girls. Now spread your legs
good and wide, like you were about to get good and fucked,
you whores. Good, very obedient little bimbos. Now my lezzie
sisters, take this." He tossed the double head dildo down
between them. Fristch took his own champagne and sipped.
"Go on-- you know what to do!"

The Dean watched wordlessly as the girls let their fingers
position the huge sextoy and take each end inside them! Then,
with perfect co-ordination possible only from practice, Sissy
and Prissy, the blonde and chesnut haired girl, clasped each
others hands for support. Next they placed the flat of their feet
against each other. They resembled a lewd set of bookends!
The Dean turned to look at his host, who now sat with his
engorged penis in his hands!

"Fuck slavegirls! Fuck!" he commanded.

In obedient response the two girls began to hump down against
one another's ass. The pink dildo had disappeared between the
snatches of the two sisters. Sweat poured off their faces as they
enjoyed the humiliating task. Fristch was smiling evilly as he
swung his fully erect cock toward them.

"Imagine Dean-- I can make one for you-- just for you. To
your specifications-- IN EVERY WAY! Don't ask how it
works, you'll just have to take my word for it. You like
redheads, you got a redhead. You want a black girl, you can
have that. And THEY OBEY COMPLETELY!!!" He pointed
his cock and shot a hot missile of come at the sisters. "Lap it up
slaves! Go on girls, let me see you drink it up!"

The Dean watched in mingled horror and fascination as the hot
sticky goo bathed the girls, who began to struggle to lick it off
their own faces and breasts. Fristch urged the Dean to do the
same.

"It's o.k. to feed the animals at my zoo Dean!"

And so the Dean strummed his own weapon, pulling it out and
letting fly. He pointed it at the chesnuthaired wench, catching
her square in the eyes. Prissy looked up at him respectfully and
began to let her tongue catch the precious milky treasure.

"I'll do it," the university official croaked. "You'll be reinstated-
- may God forgive me!"

Fristch finished his champagne. "In my world, Dean Sysnster--
I'm the god." And the two men watched as Ben Stein and
Amanda Crossways, two brilliant minds, performed for their
master. Fristch wondered briefly if the cum-drenched lesbian
sisters ever truly enjoyed these tasks, then let it drop. It just
didn't matter.


THE END