Bird Food
Jane Parks
(F/F, f/F, humil.)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material wilfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law.
Sarah Flemming was hunting again. She liked hunting. She liked it a lot. And she was very good at it. Sometimes she hunted at the dance clubs around town. Sometimes she hunted at the mall or at the local grocery stores. Sometimes in the summer she hunted at the country club around the pool next to the tennis courts.
She almost always found what she was hunting, and, more often than not, she brought her prey home. She had been hunting for about three years now, and she knew that she was nearing the end of her hunting time.
Soon she wouldn't be able to hunt any more. That made her a little sad and wistful when she thought about it. She liked hunting. And she believed wholeheartedly that her hunting had a real purpose to it. She was doing what she should. She was appreciated. She was loved. She knew that, right now, she could never seem to rest from the hunt. There was always the need for fresh prey. Brittany had made that plain from the very first hunt.
That knowledge gave her a strong sense of purpose. She felt good about herself when her hunts were successful. She had succeeded much more often than not. She was a good hunter. A good provider.
But now she knew she was on her penultimate hunt. Or perhaps her ultimate hunt. Time was growing short.
She decided to range around in a hunting ground she had not visited for some time. There, she was more likely to find fresh prey because the memory of her hunting among those who made up her special prey would be less likely to be strong. She would not be expected back there. She could roam at will, seeking just the right prey.
Sandy was standing beside a display case full of pork chops when Sarah spotted her in the grocery store. She was a woman of early middle age and certainly not unattractive, if perhaps a bit shopworn. Sarah could see the concern and confusion on Sandy's face as she tried her best to puzzle out the per pound cost ratios of the various packages of chops. Sarah moved in slowly.
"This unit pricing really is a pain. Isn't it?"
Sandy looked up at the tall, slender woman standing right next to her as if she had been caught trying to steal one of the packages of meat.
Sarah placed her warm hand lightly on the other woman's forearm to ease her down a bit and to reassure her. Sandy almost flinched from Sarah's touch. But she didn't move away. And that was a good sign.
"What? What were you...?"
Sarah smiled sweetly and gave Sandy's arm a friendly little squeeze. She noted that the other woman still had not pulled away. Good sign.
"Here, honey. This one right here is the best value for the money. I buy these all the time."
Instead of being miffed that she was being goaded into buying a certain package of chops by this perfect stranger, Sandy meekly placed the offered package in her basket.
Another good sign.
"Thank you," she said with just a hint of diffidence in her voice."
"What's your name," Sarah moved a little closer. Sandy suddenly wanted to step back out of this intimidating woman's space, but the display case blocked her. She began to tremble just a little bit.
"What's your name," Sarah insisted. Sandy tried to stare the woman down, but failed miserably.
"What's your name?"
Sandy looked sheepishly at the other woman.
"Sandy," she said her name just above a whisper.
"My name is Sandy."
Sarah placed her other hand on Sandy's other forearm. She looked around the store. Nobody else was anywhere near the two women.
"Sandy, my name is Sarah. I think we should leave now. Don't you?"
Sandy looked as if she were just about to be hit by an oncoming truck. What was happening to her? What was this woman doing to her?
Why was her pussy starting to itch?
Sandy was scared. Scared of what this woman's closeness was doing to her. At last, she recognized the danger and tried to pull away, but Sarah held her arms tightly down by her sides.
"If we don't leave right now, Sandy, I'm going to embarrass you right here in the store. Make up your mind. Either get your purse out of the shopping cart and follow me out of here or get down on your knees in front of me right now."
Sandy shook her head, trying to clear it. She didn't want to leave with this woman, and she didn't want to kneel in front of her either.
But her legs began to buckle of their own accord as she slowly sank down to the floor despite anything she could do to make herself stop. Sarah held onto her arms and just let Sandy sink to the floor on her knees.
"Put your face in my crotch, Sandy. Smell me."
A part of Sandy's mind remembered that she was in the middle of a grocery store, but the rest of her mind compelled her to thrust her face right between Sarah's slightly parted thighs. Sandy inhaled deeply and breathed the other woman's sex scent into her nostrils. Sarah smelled sooooo good. So enticing.
Sarah observed that other shoppers, other women, were beginning to gather around. She would have to bring her hunt to a close quickly before someone interfered.
"Get up, Sandy. I can see that you want to leave with me. Get your purse and let's go right now."
So saying, Sarah lifted a dazed Sandy up by her arms until the other woman was standing fully erect. Like an automaton, Sandy reached into her half-full shopping cart, retrieved her purse and meekly followed Sarah out of the grocery store. Several women who regularly shopped there quickly stood aside and allowed Sarah to lead her prey out the door. Then they resumed their shopping, breathing little sighs of relief and thanks that they had been spared what Sandy had not been spared. They had heard stories about Sarah and her hunts, and what happened to those she caught.
Sarah led Sandy to her car and opened the passenger side door for her prey to get in. Sandy now just couldn't keep her hungry eyes off the other woman as she went around and got in on the driver's side.
"Pull your skirt up around your hips, Sandy. I want to see your legs."
Sandy began to pant as she lifted up her bottom and pulled her short skirt up above her hips. Sarah could see a hint of pastel pink cotton framing Sandy's labia. She smiled. "Unbutton your blouse all the way down so I can see your breasts."
Sandy moaned quietly in the back of her throat, but she did as ordered.
Sarah drove out of the grocery store parking lot and onto a residential street, never once taking her eyes from the road. She could hear that Sandy was following instructions just fine.
"Lie across the console and put your head in my lap."
Sandy sighed deeply as though she had been waiting for this moment all her life. She leaned over the console and placed her head in Sarah's lap. Then she bent her knees slightly so that her legs and bottom would rest on the passenger seat.
Sarah took her right hand off the steering wheel and began softly stroking the other woman's hair.
"How old are you, Sandy?"
Sandy sucked in her breath. Maybe she was too old. Maybe when Sarah found out how old she was she would make her get out of the car.
"I'm 43," Sandy said in a small, diffident voice.
"That's just right, Sandy. I'm 38. So that's just right."
Sandy breathed a great sigh of relief. Sarah wasn't going to put her out of the car.
Sarah continued to drive one-handed while her right hand explored, and stroked, and, teased, and did whatever it wanted to do. Sandy lay there with her head snugly in Sarah's lap, her eyes tightly closed in embarrassment and humiliation as she let herself be felt up by this total stranger. What was wrong with her?
Why did she need to do this so badly? Why did she feel so secure and wanted for the first time in her life? Why did she tremble whenever Sarah touched her breasts, or her tummy, or her panties where they peeked out from under her skirt? Why?
"You like my hands on you. Don't you, Sandy?"
Sandy kept her eyes closed tight and sighed.
"Yes, Sarah, I like your hands on me."
Sarah looked down at the woman whose head was in her lap.
"Call me Mistress Sarah from now on, Sandy."
Sandy sucked in her breath, then let it out in a little gasp of purest serenity.
"Yes, Mistress Sarah."
Sarah chuckled to herself. Her hunt was going so well. And soon she and her most recent prey would be home, where she could feast.
This one had been so easy. So easy.
When the car finally stopped, Sandy opened her eyes. She could hear the garage door opener running and she could see the light around her grow dim as the garage door closed. For a brief moment, Sandy panicked. Where was she? What was going to happen to her? Then, Sarah's reassuring hand began stroking her hair once more, and she was content just as before.
"Let's go inside the house, Sandy."
Sandy slowly raised up off of Sarah's lap and waited for the other woman to come around the car and open her door for her. She felt so weak. The two women went inside Sarah's house with Sarah practically holding Sandy up.
"Do you want to make love to me now, Sandy," Sarah said softly, huskily as she led her latest prey to her bedroom.
"Yes, Mistress Sarah," Sandy said out of a fog of submissive lust as she walked along feeling as if she were on air. She was so lightheaded. She wanted to do anything that Sarah wanted her to do. She was sure of that.
Sarah had set loose something inside her. Something profound that she didn't even know was there. Sandy had been like a timer going off. And now was the time.
Sarah pulled Sandy into her bedroom and closed the door softly behind them. Then, she sat on the side of her bed.
"Undress me, then, slut."
At the sound of that word, Sandy wriggled like a little girl with a new doll as she stood before her new Mistress. That's exactly what she was. A middle aged woman plucked right out of the grocery store to service Sarah. To do her bidding. To become her slave slut.
Now that she was aware of her deepest, darkest desire. Now that it had been made clear to her what she really was and who really she was, Sandy couldn't wait to prove herself. She tugged on Sarah's tight-fitting top until it came away from her torso and then over her head. She didn't even stop to notice that Sarah was braless as she scrambled to unsnap and unzip her predator's slacks and yank them off her Mistress's body.
"Close your eyes, Sandyslut. I don't want you looking at me until you yourself are completely naked.
Sandy did as she was bidden and practically tore the clothes off herself until she was totally naked, standing shyly and expectantly before her new Mistress.
Sarah liked what she saw. So would Brittany. She was sure of it. Brittany liked them older. She said it made it more fun for her. "Now you may look at me," Sarah said in a strong, commanding voice.
Sandy opened her eyes to see Sarah lying completely naked on the bed on her side with her right knee bent and her left straight. Her smooth tanned skin was bathed in the diffused light coming from the partly open window drapes. Sandy saw immediately that Sarah was beautiful; long legs, flat belly, large firm breasts, ample hips, round bottom, flawless skin. As she took it all in, a part of her wished desperately that she looked better for her new Mistress. She knew that she had begun to sag a little in the breasts and in the bottom. She knew that her hips were getting a little fat. She lowered her eyes in embarrassed shame. Nobody had wanted to see her naked in so long. She had just let herself go.
Sarah didn't give her time to dwell on her own thoughts. She imperiously patted the bed with her hand in a silent order for Sandy to attend her. Sarah fell to her knees and placed her face just below Sarah's navel. Sarah languidly reached out her hand, grabbed Sandy by the hair and pulled her forcefully onto the bed and toward that secret place where she wanted Sandy's attention to be paid. Sandy did not pull back. She wanted to go there. She wanted it in the worst way in the world. As she began to nuzzle and lick, Sarah flexed her knee and pressed her hips against the face of the submissive woman who was servicing her so sweetly.
"Ummmmmmmm. That's just right. Have you ever done this before, Sandy slut?"
Sandy pulled away just far enough to answer.
"No, Mistress Sarah. Never before."
Sarah chuckled softly to herself as she pressed the other woman's head back right where it belonged. Her other hand began toying with Sandy's erect nipple, pinching, teasing, tweezing, making Sandy squeal softly. On and on it went. The feast game that always came after one of Sarah's hunting trips. Sarah was such an expert at drawing out the last full measure of humiliating submissiveness from her prey. She had had years of practice. Sandy was her reward for a good hunt.
But all good things must come to an end, and Sarah finally allowed herself to flash over the edge. She gripped Sandy's head between her powerful thighs and humped her face until she came, and came, and came some more. Sarah cried out in ecstasy and triumph. She has brought yet another prey down.
Sandy didn't hear the bedroom door open, but Sarah did. And she smiled as her fifteen year old daughter Brittany approached the bed.
"Is she ready for me now, Mommy," the young girl said softly.
Sarah looked over at her little girl, all naked, and beautiful, and ready for her own feast. Not so little any more. Not at all. Brittany was a beautiful little girl now. Not like three years ago when the hunting started. Then, she had been a gawky, shapeless little estrogen explosion, wanting, needing, but unable to hunt for her own prey. Unequipped. Inexperienced. So, Sarah had done her hunting for her. Had caught her prey and brought it home to her. Feeding her just like a mother bird who continuously and selflessly feeds a baby bird until the baby bird grows up enough that it can catch and eat its own food.
Sarah looked lovingly at Brittany as she reached out her hand to touch Sandy's naked flesh. Soon her little baby hunting bird would take wing and begin her own hunts. Soon she wouldn't need mommy to bring her feasts any more. Soon. Very soon.
Sarah sighed a deep, wistful sigh as she thought about her future and her daughter's future. Soon, Brittany would be bringing home the prey for her mother to feast upon, just as Sarah had done for her for the past three years. Soon their roles would be reversed. Soon. But not just yet. No. Not today.
"Yes, Brittany. She's ready for you."
Sandy could barely hear what was going on around her, so closely did Sarah hold her head between her legs, and so intent was she on finding and devouring every last drop of her new Mistress's secretions. So she was completely taken aback when Sarah allowed her to pull away from her erotic task and she saw the naked young girl standing by the bed and suddenly realized that it was Brittany's hand on her body and not Sarah's. Panic and overpowering degradation filled Sandy's mind. Who was this girl? Why was she here? What had she seen?
But Brittany had learned all about how to hunt from her mother. And she knew that her mother was the best huntress in this velt.
"What's your name?"
Her small hand began to coax, and tease, and tantalize.
"What's your name?"
Sandy began to breath in little pants. Oh, God. Why did she need this so much? This was so sick.
"What's your name?"
Sandy lowered her eyes.
"Sandy."
Sarah and Brittany smiled. The young had to learn how to hunt for what they needed. And who better than their mothers to teach them how best to hunt? And Sarah could see that Brittany had learned her huntcraft very well. Very well, indeed.
As Sandy slid submissively to the floor of Sarah's bedroom and began kissing Brittany's bare feet, Sarah stretched, got up from her bed, and eased toward the door. While she loved to watch her daughter feast, she knew that Brittany was old enough now not to need any further guidance from her. And she knew that Brittany was old enough not that she needed time alone with her prey to consume her in her own personal way. Yes, she really didn't need Mommy any more. She could hunt for herself now.
As Sarah closed the bedroom door to allow her daughter some privacy with her prey, she speculated on what kinds of prey her little girl would bring home to her soon. And she smiled as she heard Sandy squeal and cry out. She liked them young, and Brittany knew it. Motherhood was wonderful. Wasn't it. It held so many rewards. Didn't it?
This work is copyright (c) 2002 by Jane Parks. You may download and retain a copy for your personal use as long as the author's byline and e-mail address and this paragraph remain on the copy. Please do not post this story to any web site without permission from the author. All other rights reserved. No alteration of the contents is permitted.
Jane Parks can be reached at:
janeparkshot@Yahoo.com