The Maid For Pleasure Bundle 2

by Nadia Nightside

  “Sorry, Pace. But somebody’s gotta take the fall. Otherwise, the cops will never stop looking for us. They gotta have somebody to blame.”

  He had a guard’s gun in his hands. He shot me three times. Just enough to keep me alive until the cops came.

  Well, screw that. I wasn’t going to let him just use me.

  I escaped into the street, running after Steel. He took our getaway car, though. I kept floating through the street, bleeding horrendously, and finally got some distance from the bank by hopping into the back of a garbage truck. It slowed in traffic, and I had to jump out off the highway into the forest. By that time it was getting dark, and the police were getting close and...well, that should just about catch you up.

  In the bed at the house, I was still considering the situation and what to do next. Then I heard the tell-tale click of high heels approaching. Immediately, I felt my cock get hard. I remembered, with great explicitness, the way she had nursed me as I went to sleep. I hadn't expected to find it so erotic, so hot, to suck on her tit, but it really was.

  Like an angel, Vivian walked in again, wearing nothing but golden lingerie and a tiny white apron. The apron was lacy, see-through, and I could see all of her incredible body right through it.

  “You’re awake!” she exclaimed. “I’m so happy, Sir. Are you feeling better?”

  I was happy to see her too, I found. This surprised me. I barely knew her, and yet, she felt like the only friend I had.

  “Yes. How long...how long have I been here?”

  “Oh, just a few days.”

  “A few days?”

  I was stunned. How had she talked off the police for that long?

  Though, you know what? Never mind. She could convince me of basically anything if she kept looking at me with those big blue eyes. I figured she’d had little trouble convincing the police to fuck off.

  “Yes, Sir. You had many wounds. You had to sleep them off.”

  “Sleep them off? How do you sleep off a gunshot wound?”

  “With the right mixture of sleep and medicine, Sir, anything is possible.”

  She had slipped up onto the bed now, sliding her tiny lingerie and apron down and revealing her plump, milk-leaking tits. The warm substance immediately dripped on my skin, filling my mind with filthy thoughts. It was like her milk was lust incarnate, capable of shaping whoever touched it or tasted it into a better vehicle for providing hot, nasty sex.

  “I don’t...ahhh...believe you.”

  Her hand had wrapped around my cock—already stiffening—and I found myself losing the will to resist. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

  “My milk is especially potent, Sir,” she said slowly. “You see, I’ve had nothing to do for months now. No sexual energy to expend. So, it all went into my milk. I’ve been taking regular doses of my happy fun bimbo pills, but since I don’t get fucked or bred by any huge, perfect studs like my Master Pace...well. It all just...goes into the milk.”

  There was just a whole lot that needed explaining from that. Bimbo pills? Fucked and bred? And what goes into the milk?

  “You take...pills that make you this way?”

  “Oh yes, Sir. 44DD. They’re rather wonderful. I’d be perfectly happy without them, and perfectly sexy too. And, in fact, I was supposed to curtail my dosage when I first met my Owner, but then, you took so very long to arrive here.”

  “You think I’m your Owner?”

  I could feel myself matching her capitalization already. Her stroking picked up on my cock, thumb pushing into the thick head of my meat.

  “Of course, Sir. You said so yourself. Don’t you want to be my Owner? Aren’t you glad that I’ll do every last little thing you say?”

  I lay back on the bed, breathing hard. God, she was good at stroking a cock. I could feel my orgasm already sliding up to the surface. Her thumb mixed my precum around on the head of my dick, sliding expertly from shaft to head.

  “You’re a sex slave,” I realized. “An honest-to-god sex slave.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m a servant. And I love sex, it’s true. And I give it out happily for my Master and all his women, and his guests. Why, if you brought a whole bunch of men over, I'd love to sample all their cocks and cum, one by one. And I love to make more women just as happily sexified as I am. But I’m not a slave.”

  Make other women...like her? Good lord.

  “You’ll do whatever I order you to, though, right?”

  She shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  “Especially sexual acts?”

  “Oh my, yes.” She sighed happily.

  “And how does that not make you a slave?”

  “Because I don’t call myself that, silly.” Her strokes on my cock so urgent, so perfected in scope. “And I’m brilliantly happy doing everything you ask.”

  “But someone made you that way.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “And thank goodness they did! I don’t remember, but I could only have been miserable before. Did you know I cum practically every five minutes now?”

  Her stroking had increased in frequency. She must have sensed my incumbent orgasm somehow. The perfect sexual servant.

  “From...from what?”

  “Oh, just existing. I love it so much. Almost as much as I love cock.”

  Cumming...from existing? It didn't seem real. But god, none of this did.

  “Fucking...fuck. Fuck, okay. Fuck.”

  I slammed my fist down on the bed, breathing fast now. I was going to cum.

  “Yes...” her hand slid up my thighs. “Shall we fuck, Master? I’d love to indulge just a little bit today.”

  “I...I’m gonna...fuck, Vivian, you’re gonna make me cum!”

  “Oh!”

  Eagerly, she slipped her hot mouth down on my cock just at the second of my orgasm, swallowing it all down. Her milky tits leaked down on my thighs as she swallowed. I pulsed load after load down her eager throat, more than I had ever unloaded before in my life. I was almost certain it was more than a cup full of cum, which was completely unheard of for me.

  How on Earth was I unleashing so much? And how was she swallowing so much of it?

  Slowly, she slid off my cock, licking and sucking all the way. She stared at me with worshipful, loving bright blue eyes. She looked high or drunk; intoxicated by swallowing my cum. A little dribble ran down her sexy, elegant neck. That was, coincidentally, an intoxicating thought.

  “Sir had so much to give me,” she purred. “I’m so happy I was here to assist you.”

  “Y-yeah,” I said, struggling.

  Fuck me. I had just cum down a sex slave’s mouth. Or a sex servant’s mouth. She had just jumped on my cock, before I had a chance to say anything and...and...well.

  She was so...so eager. So happy. She wanted it so bad. How could I say no? I wanted her to suck my cock, and she seemed to want it too.

  “Listen,” I said, trying to put my thoughts together. “You’re hot as hell, but let’s take this slow, okay? I guess you’ve completely thought your way around the whole servitude thing, but I’m still getting used to it, and—oh fuck, how am I still fucking hard?”

  Her hand was wrapped around my cock again, tugging gently, appreciatively. My cock was a mammoth nine inches long, and quite thick. Longer and thicker, mind you, than it had been before I was shot and showed up in this house.

  “You’re hard because you’re a real man who needs to fuck his hot maid lots of times,” she said, full of cheer. “If you want, you could fuck my pussy right now...you could even get me pregnant.”

  The way she said that last word, pregnant, was with a certain kind of reverence that was hard to ignore. She wanted it. It was like, holy to her to get pregnant, to be knocked up by a guy like me.

  Or no, not a guy like me. Just me.

  That was really fucking hot.

  You see, I had long ago given up on the idea of having kids. Of having anyone at all, really. My heart and soul belonged to Nora, and Nora, well. She liked me fine, but s
he was a lesbian, so we weren’t ever exactly going to work out. I didn’t really like the situation, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and what the hell I wanted didn’t seem to matter much.

  This trend continued, now, with Vivian sliding her tongue up and down my cock, encouraging me to fuck her.

  Still, I tried to resist.

  “Look, Vivian, you’re hot, and you know that.”

  She licked harder. “Mmmhmm.”

  “But look...I’m just not...totally comfortable with all of this.”

  Maybe it surprises you, a biker with morals about women. But growing up with Nora as my best friend and the woman I wanted more than anything else, I’d learned a thing or two about objectifying women. I tried my honest best to not to do it. But Vivian was making it hard, and then me harder still. She slipped up next to me, her silky soft hair electric against my skin.

  “If you fuck my tits,” she purred, pulling me on top of her slow, “it’s like you’re not fucking me at all. It wouldn’t count. It wouldn’t be anything to feel bad about.”

  My cock ran up against the gently-perfumed, toned area of her midsection. She was so very soft. My hands landed on her breasts, completely bare now, and I felt my mind turn a switch.

  It was time to give in to what she wanted.

  “Okay.”

  I nodded dumbly. With my rising lust, just about everything she was saying made sense.

  Milk secreted from her pillowy, huge tits, sliding down their mountainous slopes and slipping over my cock. Instantly, the meat grew from hard to rock hard. The milk was warm, soothing, utterly perfect. The most sublimely crafted lubricant that ever could have come into existence. I slid forward, letting out a soft, gentle moan.

  Fuck. It was like sliding my cock through wet, warm air.

  “Is that good, Sir?” She pushed her tits together, crowding the view of my cock. “Is it good for you when you fuck my milky tits?”

  I was too turned on to answer verbally, but I knew she could tell from my mouth—god, yes.

  Thrusting harder now, I slid through the easy, hot valley between her tits, going faster and faster now. The pleasure built up exponentially, feeling her incredible lovepillows pushing in on my cock. I had never experienced anything like this before. I needed to cum, and soon.

  “Fuck, Vivian, you're going to make me...”

  I breathed hard, trying to hold it in—but I couldn't.

  I couldn’t help it, I came, spurting all over her face.

  Her hands retreated from her tits momentarily to scoop up the cum all around her beautiful face. She looked orgasmic as she sucked it down.

  “That’s so good, Master,” she moaned. “Won’t you do it again?”

  Again? Ha. It had taken everything I had not to cum immediately after feeling her warm titflesh against my erection, there was no way I could build up enough reserves to fuck her again right away—especially after already cumming twice in the past little while!

  I started to say just that, but then I looked down at my cock.

  My still-hard, still-throbbing cock.

  My...my growing cock. Pulsing and thickening, even already as hard as I had ever felt it be in my life.

  Her...milk, it must have been. Somehow, all that milk on my cock was changing it.

  Fuck, and I had drunk it down, too...drunk it for days, most likely! She had nursed me to health with it! And it had been on my skin. God, she could have fucking bathed me in it while I was sleeping, made me wear a suit of while I was healing.

  Her mouth wrapped around my cock now, perfectly plush lips sliding over the head as I fucked forward, pushing deep into her mouth.

  I wanted more. I slid up away from her tits and began to fuck her mouth—and her throat—as completely as I could. My transformed shaft pushed down her tight, restrictive throat. Her esophagus closed hard around the cockmeat, swallowing steadily as she sucked me harder and harder.

  It was unreal, like I said, but already I was thinking of cumming again. My reserves seemed endless.

  “You like that, you hot cunt?” I growled. “You like that?”

  She moaned, affirming she loved having her throat fucked by me. I was almost all the way up on my haunches, driving down into her throat. My hands sank into her hot, long silky hair, twisting her head whichever way I wanted. Those big, beautiful blue eyes of hers had glazed over, her body completely at my mercy.

  There was so much power in me—so much! I could own her entirely. The thought was orgasmic...and my body quickly capitalized on this.

  The bliss spread outward hot and quick, even more powerful than the previous two loads. I came triumphantly, emptying myself down her hot, tight throat for the third time.

  All those feelings of power, of strength, fled from me finally. Three orgasms was my limit. I collapsed on top of her body, sliding my cock out of her mouth before she choked. I couldn't believe what had just happened—the furious intensity of it all.

  Slowly, she slid out from under me, and then wrapped her arms around my body.

  “Sir,” she said, kissing my body with reverence, “is there anyone you could call to come and...help your recovery? I’m just one woman after all...and looking after a man, a stud, like you is a job for multiple women.”

  I knew what she meant. If her milk could change my cock how it had, if it could alter my body so that it could heal from those wounds so quickly, then surely she could change other women too. She could probably make women just like her: hot, servile, willing, and horny as hell.

  And god help me, I couldn’t resist in the slightest.

  * * * * *

  Just a few hours after I made the call, I heard the bikes pull up outside.

  Angry, loud knocks signaled Nora's arrival properly. Much angrier and louder than the way a cop knocked, and with a whole hell of a lot more force behind it.

  I had spent the last couple of hours on my feet. Contrary to the draining that my balls had experienced, courtesy of Vivian’s loving administrations, I felt better and more full of energy than I had in my entire life.

  I had a small glass of her milk in one hand, sipping away at it cheerfully. Vivian had filled it up straight from the source, and I didn’t mind in the least. It tasted too goddamn delicious to get hung up on where it had come from, and its effects—to make me feel strong, full of energy, and completely virile—were too terrific to walk away from.

  Vivian, originally, had thought I was going to call over my whole gang. She got very excited. She moaned in my ear about how I could order her to be the cum-receptacle for all the bikers. She wanted them all to fuck her.

  The house I had inadvertently become the “Owner” of was enormous. Kind of a modern-day palace. The entry way was tiled with incredible marble, and sported a number of erotic-looking statues of big-titted women pouring water on one another. In the backyard there was a garden, complete with a number of gold fountains featuring sexy winged babes pleasing each other with orgiastic enthusiasm. All through the house were more and more pictures of evidence that whoever owned the house certainly was in love with sex; I could only assume that he had the maid delivered too early because he had gotten caught in some month-long orgy in some other country.

  Vivian, who had attentively filed all his records in his absence, seemed to confirm this theory. He was single, with a great many ladies that he invited over with regularity. She had been taking messages for him; though since I had arrived, she had started to think of me as the owner and so had started to ignore any phone calls that would have been designated for him.

  I answered the door in a thick, comfortable blue bath robe, not quite yet finding the will to put on clothes when Vivian was so ready at all times to service my cock. In fact, since I had called Nora, Vivian had sucked me off three more times, with my cock easily hardening just moments after, each time. I couldn't quite yet find the will to fuck her pussy—it just didn't seem right, yet, even though she was clearly willing.

  It was hard to ignore the encroachi
ng feeling that I was something of a god to Vivian. I felt like one, anyway. I wanted to hear her beg to call me one. It was the kind of testosterone-fueled, pleasure-enhanced thought process that a man felt whenever he was turned on to a certain degree; I was at that level of arousal virtually all the time.

  The tall, redheaded, beautiful Nora was at the porch in front of the house, alongside the slender, blond, ballerina-like Willow. The driver of the other bike, and Nora's long-time lover.

  “Hello, Nora,” I said, smiling. “Lovely to see you.”

  She was all pointing and frowns. “Shut the fuck up and get me a drink. You wipe that smile off your fucking face, if you think I’m happy you’re still alive. I’m not. If you want to live past the next two minutes, you better start telling me why the fuck you made me drive out to Cherry Ridge. I hate this fucking part of town.”

  Nora was the toughest woman I knew. Check that, she was the toughest person I knew, woman or man. She had gotten me out of more scrapes than I even care to mention.

  “Hey Pace,” said Willow. “I am happy you’re still alive.”

  Her smile was low and shy. Willow was a lovely, friendly girl. Some of the boys at the club, they raised a stink about Nora and Willow, being lesbians and all. And then Nora jammed a pool cue halfway down one bigot’s throat.

  He turned out okay after a few weeks in the hospital. Can’t talk very loud, though—or maybe he just learned his lesson and doesn’t talk much anymore.

  Anyway, nobody really said shit to Nora after that, and in fact nobody even says anything bad about her sexuality ever.

  Say whatever you want about biker gangs, but we take violent lessons to heart.

  I smiled at Nora. “Do you want me to shut up and get you a drink, or start talking?”

  “I’ll get her a drink, Sir,” said Vivian, popping in from just beyond the entry. “Why don’t you all retire to the sitting room?”

  Vivian wore, at my instruction, something a bit more modest than her usual fare. So, she had on a tiny, tight white dress that bared her tits and showed off her long, perfectly tanned legs. Tall blue acrylic heels were on her feet. As always, she wore a tiny apron, though this one was bright blue, to match her heels. And her eyes, I realized, admiring her with a orgasm-drunk smile.