Yes…..and No.

"I'm sooo sorry Mr. Kent", Mara replied with downcast eyes and a slight frown on her supple lips. The now-accommodating executive assistant positioned both hands to clutch her work tablet tightly to her chest while rocking nervously on modest business heels.

"Miss Marcy is currently off the estate grounds on an errand for Miss Swearingen", Mara replied sullenly, genuinely disheartened for being unable to oblige Kent's request.

"…..But", Mara's expressive eyes brightened excitedly as she sensed an opportunity to remedy her unprofessional service. "I have her mobile and can contact her if this is an emergency!", The auburn haired woman blurted enthusiastically. Unable to suppress her exuberance, she bounced on heels to set her smallish tits to jiggling beneath her unflattering suit blazer and utilitarian blouse.

Kent released an impressed whistle as he circled the foyer leading into the expansive mansion, only slightly registering the response of the eager young woman standing at his side. He continued to casually stroll around the large rounded room, pausing only to run his hands along the length of one of many marble columns extending to support the domed roof two stores above.

Kent abruptly turned to face Mara while slipping the withered bone finger from his pocket to press within the folded fingers of his right hand before casually clasping both behind him at the small of his back.

"Unfortunate, but no matter", Kent responded with only a slight hint of disappointment while casually stroking the severed digit at his back. "And what of Miss Swearingen?", he continued before strolling through the marble archway separating the foyer from the lavishly furnished reception area towards a well cushioned couch set before an enormous marble fireplace beneath carved mahogany mantle.

"Miss Swearingen is currently conducting business in the main board room", Mara spoke at his side in time with the clicking of heels on polished white marble floor. She struggled to keep pace with Kent's long strides, her mincing steps relegated by the tight wool knee length suit skirt clinging to her toned legs and slim waist.

"Had I worn this skirt this morning?", Mara idly thought while awkwardly positioning her body to better observe the now constricting garment. She paused briefly to examine the stretchy black material, marveling at the fabric as it molded to sculpted thighs and shapely ass in a much more flattering fashion than she remembered.

"And who is she with?", Kent's smug voice broke Mara from examining her impossibly altered clothing. Mara blushed slightly from her unprofessional behavior before quickly regaining her composure.

"Again, I'm VERY sorry Mr. Kent, but I'm not at liberty to say", was Mara's INTENDED response. She gently tugged the hem of her modest matching suit blazer positioned at her high waist. An errant thought briefly fluttered through her mind, questioning if she had not chosen to wear her conservative tweed blazer this morning that fell low to slightly conceal her well padded derrière.

"Miss Swearingen is currently meeting with Miss Cromwell and Miss Worthington", Mara found herself speaking candidly to her own surprise. Oddly, she felt a warm satisfying feeling of, (was that arousal?), after responding satisfactorily to Kent's query.

She subconsciously ground her rapidly slickening thighs beneath her figure-hugging leather skirt before continuing. "Um…", she ran both hands to unnecessarily smooth the stiff glossy leather at her waist, "They're interviewing several candidates for the new 'Arrogance' line of cosmetics campaign to be launched this autumn". Mara concluded, gazing at Kent with wide eyes seeking his approval.

"Please contact Marcy and summon her home immediately", Kent responded with disinterest. Mara noticed he seemed to be otherwise occupied studying the immense framed painting of the Swearingen heiresses positioned above the carved fireplace mantle while fingering a small unrecognizable object in his right hand.

"Of course Mr. Kent!", Mara replied without hesitation. Her glossy leather skirt creaked enticingly as she bent stiffly at the waist to deposit her work tablet on the plush leather couch at Kent's side. "It would be my PLEASURE!", she breathed in his ear as she straightened while running both hands over the prominent leather clad globes of her cushioned ass. Mara had a strange thought that her voice sounded foreign to her own ears; almost at a higher pitch as if raised an octave. Dismissing the absurd notion, she graced Mr. Kent with an accommodating smile as she sifted through her oversized utilitarian cloth shoulder bag to locate her smart phone.

Mara hadn't really noticed before, (though she couldn't IMAGINE how she had missed it), but Mr. Kent was actually QUITE attractive.

Mara giggled slightly, blushing again at her unprofessional decorum before catching herself nibbling coquettishly on the well manicured red lacquered nail of her right index finger.

"Manicured nail?", she thought to herself while examining the seemingly red liquid coated half inch extensions gracing each of her slender digits. Mara thought she always kept her nails at a moderate length due to conflicts with her work obligations; anything beyond finger length became a burden when constant typing and tapping on mobile devices. disregarding the foolish thought, she nimbly maneuvered her index finger along the glass surface to locate and dial Marcy's number.

Mara graced Kent with a sultry smile, blowing a wanton kiss through now-puffy glossy-red painted lips. She sensually released the three buttons fastening her red bolero style blazer of some shiny figure-caressing material while raising her mobile phone to her multiple pierced right ear to monitor the dial tone.

Kent loosed a wicked smile as he watched the once prim and proper conservative executive assistant attempt to rationalize her increasingly frequent wardrobe modifications serving to blatantly showcase her now upgraded lady parts.

Mara briefly noticed Kent's wandering eyes settle on her modest chest as she patiently held her mobile phone to ear in anticipation of Marcy's response. Savoring the moment, she abruptly straightened to arch her back and thrust her chest forward while favoring him with a heavy wink and slow deliberate drag of pretty pink tongue over luscious red-painted lips. Mara fought to suppress a slight frown as she idly wished she had been blessed with endowments equal to that of the Swearingen women. As if inheriting vast amounts of wealth from the Swearingen family fortuned had not been enough, both Angelina and Marcy had also been graced with genetic traits that would cause envy among gods.

"Those Swearingen cunts have nothing on me!", Mara thought to herself as she reached with left hand to part the sharply tailored bolero blazer lovingly encasing her upper body.

"Wait….what?", she pondered internally while sensually sliding the quarter length puffy red satin sleeved parody blazer from her lithe slender arms to reveal a nondescript pale cotton collared blouse beneath. "I've been working for Miss Angelina and Miss Marcy since graduating university", she continued her internal musings while folding the slinky red garment to place on an end table adjacent to the large leather sectional couch Mr. Kent occupied.

"True, Marcy and Angelina can both be cunts at times", Mara rationalized, finding nothing irregular with referring to her employers in such a slanderous manner, even in her private thoughts. She pivoted before the small wooden table she had deposited her darling blazer, her delicately plucked eyebrows knit in contemplation. "Like when that spoilt little CUNT refuses to answer her FUCKING phone!", Mara's puffy lips curled into a snarl as she strutted on her favorite pair of towering Fuck-Me red patent leather stilettos with practiced ease and hypnotic hip swivel to once again stand before Mr. Kent.

She idly tapped her pointed toed glossy red heel with growing impatience while reaching to the hem of her mid-thigh length supple black leather skirt to adjust the intricately black laced garter straps along each shapely thigh and straighten the seams.

"Marcy!", Mara almost squealed with excitement in her now breathy timbre. "Where on EARTH have you BEEN?", she continued in exasperation, elated for having fulfilled Mr. Kent's wishes. Her quickly moistening mound quivered with pleasure beneath her high cut red silk panties.

Kent continued to examine the enormous oil painting hanging above the fireplace mantle as Mara sashayed in her now towering heels to the opposite side of the room for increased privacy during her conversation.

The impressive portrait was one of many decorating the large antechamber of the mansion, each set in elaborately carved wood framing with gold inlaid filigree and an embossed name plate centered at the bottom.

"Mother and Daughter", Kent read the titled plate he believed to be of solid gold below the portrait before him.

The image depicted what he assumed to be Angelina Swearingen seated primly in a large ornate armchair of solid wood and crushed velvet. Kent grinned with approval at the well-maintained business woman in what he assumed to be her early 40's. Angelina's golden blonde hair was intricately arranged in an elaborate coif, piled atop her head with several heavily curled locks strategically cascading before each jewel encrusted ear to portray a regal appearance. She sat stoically with both slender hands resting on her conservative tweed skirted lap, with lithe, toned legs locked firmly at the knees to rest at a calculated angle and capped with low conservative heels. Her impressive chest was loosely encased in the flowing cream silk of a full sleeved collared blouse fastened tightly to the throat and loosely knotted with integrated silk bow. Her narrow eyes and smug, slightly upturned plump lips conveyed an unquestionable air of superiority and dominance meant to intimidate any visitors prior to entering the mansion.

The depicted image of Marcy stood slightly slouched behind the seated visage of her mother, an expression of pure boredom quite literally painted on her beautiful face. Kent briefly wondered why the artist did not modify the expression after the posing; could the little bitch really be THAT vain?

Marcy was clearly her mother's daughter, having inherited the striking features of wide expressive blue eyes, luxuriously blonde mane, delicate 'button' nose, and high defined cheeks which she expertly utilized on any occasion to her best advantage. Where her mother appeared to have aged gracefully, preferring rigorous exercise and natural remedies to combat the ravages of time, Marcy favored the 'artificial' approach of plastic surgery and breast enhancements to more easily achieve the desired results.

She stood behind the elaborate armchair with both manicured hands resting on her seated mothers shoulders, her impossibly large tits projecting obscenely from her otherwise athletic frame. A flattering black and white patterned sleeveless sheath dress molded to her shapely frame, a far cry from the deceptively conservative ensembles she had warn to address the court in her case rulings against him.

Kent's rhythmic stroking of the severed bone in his hand steadily increased with his growing ire. The small demonic object gradually warmed in his white knuckled grip, pulsing with intensity and each continued stroke of his fingers.

The painting before him blurred slightly, the frozen depictions of Marcy and Angelina shifting to become indistinct as if obscured through an unfocused lens. Kent smiled with satisfaction as the swirling image abruptly solidified and the jumbled letters of the nameplate below coalesced to the newly minted caption, "The MILF and The Maid".

While the background scenery remained largely unaltered, save for the now leopard skin print on the plush armchair upholstery, the Swearingen women posing in the portrait were drastically altered.

Angelina's limp body lie sprawled across the armchair, her previous elegant silk tie neck blouse parted at the center to display large unfettered tit flesh enhanced by arched back forcefully draped over the right armrest. Her exposed glistening sex rested lazily on the tacky print seat cushion on deliberate display below the same tasteful tweed skirt from the previous portrait, now rucked to the waist with long slender legs casually slung over the left armrest. The blood red open toed heel of her right foot hung precariously from her glossy red painted digits, with the matching 4 inch counterpart lying in disarray on the floor below. Her arms hung loosely at her side, long fingers capped with red lacquered nails in full extension from the perceived orgasm wracking her body. Her head appeared as if lolling from long slender neck, with long loosely curled golden blonde lochs extending to almost reach the floor and highlighted with a shimmering strand of drool painting the corners of her curled lips for an impressive touch of added realism. Angelina's eyes clenched closed and jaws parted wide in a wordless orgasmic howl; her fervent lust forever captured in brush strokes depicting the throes of passion.

Marcy's appearance and positioning was similarly altered to the new reality depicted in the portrait. Her largely artificially amplified curves now appeared as if having been poured into a scandalously minuscule black satin French Maid uniform, complete with matching satin 6 inch closed toe stiletto heels and delicate snow white lace maid cap perched upon her thick flaxen lochs gathered atop her head in a haphazard bun. An abundance of thick white silk ruffles ringed the hem of her dress, extending to encompass the white satin apron tied with a large white bow at her back, and framing the black silk bodice at her chest now hanging loose below mammoth pendulous tits as she leaned threateningly above her prone orgasmic mother. Large puffy quarter length sleeves capped at her shoulders to expose lithe slender arms, with delicate lace wrist cuffs ending at each hand and embroidered lace collar at supple neck matching the pattern of the uniform cap. Her towering left heeled foot sat firmly planted before the armchair, with the pointed tip of right heel pressed to penetrate the slick folds of Angelina's womanhood while propped on the elevated seat cushion above. Her succulent lips were latched around the protruding nipple of her MILFy mother's exposed left tit flesh while she teased the thumb sized nub extending from above Angelina's dripping sex with an antique feather duster.

Satisfied with his improvised adjustments, Kent swiveled his head to casually observe the remaining portraits decorating the antechamber.

"Victorian Ladies", hung between two expansive windows to his right depicted the mother daughter pairing forever captured in the act of dressing in Victorian era corsets and lingerie in an overtly sexual manner. Marcy's abundant tit flesh poured over the tops of the constricting white satin half cupped garment; her long supple neck exposed and lips parted as she arched her back as if pleading to her mother at her back. Angelina appeared as if tightening the heavily laced garment behind her daughter. Clad in an identical ensemble down to the closed toe white satin heels, delicately laced stockings and garters, and glowing red painted nails, she gently pressed plump red painted lips to the flushed exposed flesh on her daughters shoulder as if in sharing her arousal. Kent was impressed by the artists ability to realistically capture the raised goose flesh quite evident on Marcy's skin.

"Teaching Principles", featured both ladies in the classic classroom setting of an erotic 'student teacher' relationship. Marcy appeared quite clearly as the teacher, positioned on a large oak desk with toned legs spread beneath black pinstripe knee length skirt and glossy black business heels dangling slightly above the stained wooden floor below. Clad in an immaculate collared steel gray silk blouse and with hair arranged in a loose bun with several errant strands hanging to rest on her shoulders, she angrily glared through wire frame glasses at the exposed red satin pantied ass of her mother lying reluctantly on her lap below.

Angelina's mature womanly body appeared as if about to burst through the seams of a parochial school girls uniform that would make a porn star blush. Powder pink heeled Mary Jane shoes over pink ringed knee-highs adorned with Japanese cartoon characters graced her toned legs, extending up to the exposed inverted half moons of creamy white flesh peaking below red satin panties. Her tiny strip of alternating powder pink and powder blue tartan kilt was upturned at the waist to expose her plump derrière, with Marcy's flattened right hand frozen in the act of hovering threateningly above. Angelina's crisp white half sleeve blouse was painstakingly fastened to the neck to end at a shocking pink parody schoolgirl tie matching the color of her childishly dainty shoes and socks. The blouse appeared as if strategically undersized to enhance her mature womanly endowments. With her golden mane split equally into two flowing pig tails, Angelina rested on her daughters lap, arms folded with petulant pout on plump lips, and glistening tears staining her wide blue eyes.

Rhythmic clicking across the marbled floor drew Kent's attention to Mara's rapid approach.

"Like, Marcy's on her way home now!", Mara announced triumphantly, punctuating her announcement with a slight giggle that set her delightfully round now C cup breasts jiggling beneath her wrist length white satin blouse.

Kent only smiled in response, gently patting the seat beside him on the large sectional couch.

"Um, like watch'a lookin' at" she asked questioningly with wide vapid eyes. she ran her hands to smooth the thigh length glossy leather skirt attempting to cover her padded bum before daintily seating herself at Kent's side. Mara failed to notice the upholstery of the couch had shifted to an eye-jarring zebra print as she deposited her mobile phone in her stylish black leather clutch purse before again rummaging around and extracting what appeared to be a black plastic head band with furry dog ears fastened to the sides.

"Oh, Lady Angelina and mistress Marcy's PAINTINGS". Mara almost spat. Kent detected a strong hint of disgust in the former executive assistants high breathy voice as she pulled a compact from her clutch purse to inspect the dog ears she had carefully positioned atop her elaborately arranged coif.

"Like, I can't say I'm into their HOBBY", Mara continued, again shuffling through the purse at her side before removing a vibrating egg butt-plug attached to a long black furry dog tail. "Like, Mistress Marcy was actually out picking up the costumes for their next commissioned painting", Mara stood from the couch and reached behind her with left hand to release a concealed zip on the back of her hip clinging leather skirt to reveal a concealed hole in the fabric. "Like, that's why it took the bitch like, FOREVER, to answer", she concluded before depositing the plastic egg portion of the butt-plug into her eager mouth to deep throat the device and thoroughly lube with saliva.

"Oh, so you're not a patron of the arts?", Kent asked with a slight chuckle while feeling the demonic digit pulse and heat in his hand.

The oil painted portrait before him again slightly shimmered, the image appearing blurred as reality shifted within it's frame. The letters on the plaque below seemed to warp and twist incoherently, then settled as the new title "The MILF, The Maid, and Mara" was embossed on the golden tag.

The portrait remained largely unaltered, save for the addition of Mara now positioned on her haunches to the right of the armchair beneath Angelina's dangling feet. Mara's feet splayed awkwardly below her knee length black satin skirt, with matching black satin sling back pumps on painted toes beneath hear and black dog-tailed butt plug extending from behind. Her arms and hands were clasped together before her generous tits clad in crisp cap sleeved white collared blouse, with wrists bent slightly at a declining angle in a classic begging pose. Floppy black dog ears graced her well styled hair as she reached with extended neck to slowly draw her tongue along the length of Angelina's elegantly arched foot.

"Well!", Kent announced, slapping his hands palm down on his thighs before raising himself from the couch. "Shall we go introduce ourselves to Miss Swearingen?" he reached down to gently pat the auburn haired woman kneeling at his side.

"Yip Yip!" Mara announced excitedly on hands and knees, shaking her leather clad ass hypnotically to the constant buzzing sound emanating from her rectum. Her long pink tongue lolled between her parted lips, with a long tensile strand linked to an accumulated puddle on the floor before her.

"Lead the way!" Kent called with a playful swat to her protruding leather clad ass.

"Yip, YIPYIP!", Mara eagerly responded, quickly shuffling on stilettoed feet, stockinged knees, and manicured hands to lead Kent deeper into the mansion.