The Maid For Pleasure Bundle 2

by Nadia Nightside

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, smiling slyly.

  Tiffany had expected this sort of thing to happen. She had tried, as much as she could, to be educated in the manner of Castle's business. What she had found surprised her, but also intrigued her to a great extent. It was an intoxicating thing, or must have been, to have so much control over others like he boasted.

  She betrayed none of her intellectual interest in the proceedings, however, turning her nose up.

  “Does she have to be so loud?”

  Castle tapped the redhead’s head gently. “Quiet down. There are adults talking.”

  The redhead moaned out a quiet affirmative, and immediately her slurps transitioned into soft schlicks and whispered moans of adoration. Neither she nor Castle seemed to care very much that they were outside on a street where anyone could see. Her enormous tits pressed against his thick, muscular legs, milk leaking slowly from them.

  Tiffany could smell the milk, the precum. The scents tickled at her body, trying to goad it into arousal. This was even with the precautions she had taken before hand, taking a few pills to clog up her sinuses.

  “Would you like a real drink?” Castle asked, looking at her water. “Haven’t they served you?”

  “Of course I don't want anything to drink.”

  “Something to eat?”

  “Stanford,” Tiffany said sternly, “just because I’m here to ask you for money doesn’t make me a complete fool.”

  Castle pretended to be insulted. “I’m shocked that you think I would try anything with a lady of your stature, Tiffany.”

  “And I’m shocked that you think I’d trust you enough to even drink water in your restaurant. I’m rather insulted that you even thought I would go inside and let my senses get overwhelmed with that sick scent in there.”

  “It’s just a bit of people having fun.”

  From inside the restaurant, as if on cue, was a cascading chorus of orgasmic moans. Someone was being called a King, and someone else a Big-Cocked God.

  “Oh yes,” Tiffany said, oozing sarcasm. “I’m sure they have fun all the way to complete airheaded bimbodom and huge-cocked studness.”

  Now it was Castle's turn to bristle. “They do, as a matter of fact.”

  A long, long time ago, Stanford Castle and Tiffany Belmont had gone to school together. High school and then college—he had followed her to North University. He had been quite the annoyance, always following after her like some lovestruck puppy dog. Tiffany had been the head cheerleader at both her high school and her university, as well as the president of her sorority.

  That was, incidentally, why she could never stand all those bimbo types she saw. It was perfectly possible to be an athlete, cheering for a sports team, and to be surrounded by a society of women, without everything devolving into some endless sex parade. It was insulting to her very core to imagine that men only thought of cheerleaders and sorority sisters as sex objects.

  “Shall we get to the matter at hand?” suggested Tiffany. “You know what I’m doing here. You know I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t need to. I need money. There are a number of players on the free market that would turn my team completely around, and I need them. I need them yesterday, as a matter of fact, and that means I need the money to pay them last week.”

  Castle shuddered slightly—and a fresh smell of cum attacked Tiffany's body. He could cum at will, she realized suddenly. That was...that was really something. The redhead on her knees moaned in response, taking in all that she could. The puddle of milk was spreading out on the sidewalk out toward the street.

  “And you want me to provide you that money?” asked Castle.

  “I’m willing to give you a share of the proceeds, of course. Even...” she swallowed, trying to hide her disgust. “Even a plaque on the stadium wall. Perhaps we could name a wing of the training facilities after you. Or your many children.”

  Castle’s virility was the stuff of legend. He had sired at least twenty children in the last few years from his wife and many mistresses; curiously, all of them were girls.

  “I’m not going to give you any money.”

  Tiffany tried, and failed, to hide the desperation in her voice. “I’m disappointed to hear that.”

  “Unless...”

  “What?”

  “The way I see it, this is an investment. I would feel much safer making this investment if I had a hand or two in the game.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to make a gift of one of my maids to your quarterback.”

  The redhead moaned louder, clearly pushing through another wave of blinding orgasms. Her heels kicked backwards into Tiffany's legs. Tiffany tried to back away, finding it strangely hard for some reason.

  “I don’t think I like that idea.”

  Castle’s Maids were the reason for his escalation from a billionaire to a multi-multi-billionaire. He provided a product that only the supremely ultra-rich could afford, and he charged top dollar for that product, even so. The Maids were hyper-obedient, hyper-sexualized young women who would do absolutely anything their Masters asked. They were, essentially, sex slaves who happened to be rather good at cooking and cleaning.

  “Like it or not, that’s the only way you’re getting my money.”

  Tiffany thought about this for a moment. From her research, she knew that with one of Castle's maids around, her starting quarterback, Tate Dollars, would start to produce some...changes.

  “Tate,” said Tiffany. “He would begin to look more like you?”

  Castle nodded. “He’ll be improved in every possible sense. Stronger, faster, smarter. Though, he might be too turned on most of the time to use his smarts. You’ll have to ensure he’s thoroughly drained before game time.” He paused, considering. “Probably at half-time, as well.”

  Tiffany didn't feel as though she had much choice. Her back was against the wall. If there was any other way to a winning season—any way at all—she would have taken it. But this was her only option.

  “I want your word—no, I want it in the contract that you won’t try to change me.”

  He smiled as he drank his water. She could smell again the sudden harsh, pleasant scent of his cum as he spilled into the maid’s throat. Once again, her orgasm matched his, and her high-heeled legs slid up Tiffany's. She couldn't back away now. The maid's legs were so soft to the touch. So warm.

  “Very well.”

  Tiffany pressed on. “Not by direct or indirect action. No ways around it. At the end of this, I am not changed. Do you understand me?”

  “Perfectly, my dear.” Castle smiled. “Everything will be as you want it.”

  * * * * *

  The next day, at her office in the stadium, Tiffany sat at her desk, eyeing with great suspicion the impossibly-proportioned young woman who stood outside her office. The window in her office was tall and wide, taking up most of the wall to the right of her desk. Tiffany's office assistant, Rebecca, was chatting amiably with the bubbly-looking blonde. Over the course of a few exchanges, the new girl handed Rebecca a book from her purse.

  Rebecca appeared quite skeptical, her freckled face contorting into a slight frown. She appeared to take the book purely out of politeness. Tiffany sighed—she’d have to rescue the poor girl.

  She pressed a button on the intercom on her desk. “Rebecca? Send her in, please.”

  “Right away, Ma’am.”

  In through the door stepped the maid, her tall heels jingling softly. She had bells on her silver ankle bracelets. Like a cat, you could tell when she was coming and going. More to announce her presence; more to make men try and look at her. Tiffany got up to meet her.

  “I’m Candy!” said the young maid, bright and cheerful. “Are you my new owner?”

  “Hello,” said Tiffany, stretching out a hand. “My name is—”

  Immediately, Candy slipped her arms around Tiffany’s neck and planted a firm, insistent kiss on her lips. Her lipstick tasted like bubblegum,
and was scented with something strong and heavy. Tiffany felt repulsion and arousal dueling it out in her stomach almost immediately. She was not a lesbian. She wasn't even remotely bisexual.

  Hell, she was barely heterosexual. Mostly, sexuality seemed like an excuse to not get work done.

  Shocked, she pushed Candy off.

  “That is...” Tiffany shook her head, trying to clear the mist that had formed. It was just the shock of it, the adrenaline. That was all. She wasn’t infected...wasn’t affected like those girls she had heard about. Castle had put it in a contract that he wouldn’t do anything.

  But Candy didn’t, Tiffany thought suddenly.

  “That was very inappropriate, Candy. All right? This is a business. I don’t want you to kiss me, ever. Do you understand?”

  Candy giggled. “Of course! I’m sorry. I’m very friendly.”

  “Of course you are, dear. Here...wait there.”

  Tiffany retreated to her desk, getting as far away from the bimbofied beauty as possible.

  For a moment, she tried to retrace the steps of the last half-minute.

  She stared at the gorgeous woman in front of her. Of course her name was Candy. She came already dressed in a tight, tiny cheerleading outfit in The Tornados’ colors red, white, and blue colors. The uniform seemed much tinier and tighter than most of the others that Tiffany had seen, clinging so boldly to her hips and giving such an incredible view of the fleshy valley of her cleavage. But, this could have easily been attributed to Candy’s hourglass body. The high heels weren't part of the uniform, of course, but Tiffany felt they would have their intended effect on Tate—her starting quarterback.

  The cheerleading uniform was an unfortunate necessity, but seeing Candy’s scandalous form in the team colors, Tiffany was already regretting this whole affair.

  She knew that the plan wouldn’t work just to have the maid come in as a maid. Tiffany knew very well that she couldn’t be seen just giving a maid to her quarterback. It would be suspicious, and if there was one thing that Castle didn’t want, it was the building of suspicion to his brand. He could bribe and transform almost at will, but when suspicion grew to rumor, and rumor grew to widespread interest, his whole enterprise was in trouble.

  So, Candy had been hired as a cheerleader. It was all official, and Castle assured Tiffany that the bimbo wouldn't embarrass herself. He suggested, even, that she might well exceed Tiffany's expectations. Tiffany rather doubted that, of course. Having been a cheerleader herself once upon a time, she knew there was much more to it than simply being a pretty face.

  Tiffany had told no one about the arrangement, in fact, not even her assistant Rebecca. Even Tate wouldn’t be aware that he was getting a premium Castle Maid designed and implemented specifically for transforming him into a super stud athlete.

  Letting out a sigh, Tiffany leaned forward.

  “Very soon,” she said, feeling like she had regained her composure, “we’re going to have a man in here.”

  “A man?” Candy grabbed one tit, stroking a nipple lovingly. “Is he handsome? Of course he is. He’s a man. Men are so handsome, you know.”

  “...yes. At any rate, he’s going to be your...you know. Your master or whatever. The man you were hired for. Do you understand?”

  Candy turned to her, her beautiful face almost difficult to look at. She made Tiffany feel oddly inadequate, every square inch of skin smooth and shining. There suddenly was none of the giggling girlishness that had been there previously, and left instead was a cool, mature seriousness.

  “I understand very well, Ma’am. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Then she giggled, and went back to playing with her hair and squeezing her tits. No doubt she was thinking about cocks or something else similarly vulgar.

  Tiffany sighed again, reaching forward to her intercom.

  “Send Tate in.”

  Her assistant, Rebecca, was on the other line. “Yes, Ma’am. Right away.”

  Such a devoted girl. Tiffany would have to remember to give her a nice raise, maybe even a new title. Executive Assistant instead of just Personal Assistant, maybe. Rebecca was a charming brunette with a crooked smile and a dead-serious face that reflected her all-business attitude. She was not much for conversation but was delightful as someone to have working for Tiffany as someone who could easily and quickly get things done.

  Tiffany then looked at the sensational blonde, waiting blankly at the other end of her office.

  “So, are you ready, Ca—” Tiffany gurgled slightly, the insipid name not even able to crawl out from her mouth, “—Miss?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Very much so!”

  Tiffany loathed to call her Candy—it was such a silly, demeaning name. In fact, she loathed to call her a woman at all. Obviously, the girl was a proper adult by age, and was thoroughly mature in certain areas—her breasts and musculature and hair and so on—but women as Tiffany knew them did not carry such vapid, permanent grins on their faces simply by existing. Women did not check their reflection on every surface every few seconds and admire how pretty they looked for men. Women did not giggle so often that it might as well have been breathing; women did not have such enormously titanic tits that their tiny cheerleading outfits struggled to keep the massive amounts of titflesh inside; women did not have long, long gorgeously soft hair that stretched all the way down to their asses; and women did not have such aggressively bronzed skin, toned to absolute perfection, as if their entire lives had been nothing more than an excuse to perfect the way they looked.

  No, no, not at all—women did not do that!

  So, therefore, it was hard for Tiffany to qualify Candy as a woman, despite her obvious feminine qualities, and her clear abilities for becoming a matron at some point, what with her fertile child-rearing hips and obviously milk-ready tits.

  Tiffany had told Castle she didn’t want Candy to be one of those “Milk Maids” she had heard about; clearly, if he had listened to her, he had summarily ignored her. Her top already looked like it was getting soaked in Candy’s anticipation. The heavy scent of the milk began to fill the office. Tiffany was glad she had, again, taken something to clog up her senses.

  Tiffany wished she could have objected to Castle about the milk, but she needed what the Maid could do too badly to raise much of a fuss. Maybe she'd bring it up when she talked to him next. She had agreed to a few phone calls a week with him to discuss how the plan was going.

  Tate entered the office.

  He was a quarterback all over. Tall, handsome, with curly brown hair kept cut short and a strong jaw. Fresh from a pad-less practice, he wore a tight white shirt and a pair of red athletic shorts. His arms were as thick as his brain, or perhaps it was the other way around. Either way, Tiffany felt he was stronger than he was smart, and she had been given very little evidence to the contrary. When asked who his dependents were, he asked in return if that was that new team from Oregon.

  Tate smiled as he entered. “Hey, Miss Belmont. You wanted to see...whoa.”

  Immediately, Tate’s eyes were fixated on Candy. She was been posted right across from the door.

  “Tate, this is our newest cheerleader, Candy. Say hello, Candy.”

  The smiling blonde obediently stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Tate’s neck. As he sputtered and protested, she drew him in for a long, sizzling kiss.

  “I’ve always wanted to meet a real live quarterback before,” she breathed, her lips clinging to his still.

  Her voice had gained in octaves, becoming even more high-pitched and girlish, but lowered in volume. No doubt, thought Tiffany, she thought it was against regulation or something similarly silly to have a raised voice in front of a man.

  The maid’s huge breasts were crushed against Tate’s well-developed pectorals. She dotted soft kisses against his ruggedly handsome chin.

  “You’re really...um...forward,” he said.

  Candy nodded. “I find it’s best to just, like, you know...” she slipped her hand throug
h the elastic band of Tate's shorts and around his cock. “Just grab hold of the things that I like. You know?”

  Tate gulped and nodded slowly.

  “I’ve been a fan of yours for so long,” said Candy, stroking intently. “Won’t you please, please show me how you treat your best fans?”

  “I’ve...uh, you know. I’ve got a girl...frieeeend...”

  His voice trailed off as Candy pulled at a strap and her top slid down to the floor. Tate let out a low whistle, eyes wide and shining.

  “Oh, really?” Candy demurred. “I guess she wouldn’t like it if you saw me like this, huh?”

  But Tate wasn’t talking anymore. Suddenly, he was sliding his face down into Candy's milk-producing tits, taking a long lick of the lusciously thick cream she produced. Candy moaned with encouragement.

  “Yes!” she cried. “Oh, Master!”

  If the term bothered or puzzled Tate, he didn't show it. Quickly they were on the carpeted floor, Tate shoving his shorts down around his ankles and then kicking them to the wall.

  “Oh, get a room,” Tiffany said.

  They didn’t seem to notice her. As a matter of fact, it appeared that they had gotten a room—her office. The smell of lust was becoming unbearable—and quickly, Tate had slid his thick cock inside of Candy's waiting cunt, eager to test drive what was apparently his new possession.

  Normally, someone might have thought twice about fucking a girl they just met in front of their boss. But Castle's maids had a way of making men forget all about what they would normally do.

  Frustrated, Tiffany stepped out into the hallway, expecting at any moment that someone would swing by and demand an explanation for all the noise the two were making as they shouted out loving phrases at one another. But there was no one. Even Rebecca was gone, no doubt off on some errand, being the dutiful little lass she was.

  Tiffany reproached herself for feeling surprised at the lack of attention. After all, she had planned it this way, hadn’t she? That’s why it was all taking place so late in the evening, because that way no one would be there to watch.