“Surely, he can keep doing that. And he’s only going to get better, dear.”
Tiffany didn’t notice Castle’s slip. She was too intent on talking, and soaking in that hot feeling that had started between her legs.
“Yes, but Ohio is next week's team, and they're known for their defense on the option. I don’t have a choice, here. I need Karyle to start catching the ball, darling.”
“So, you want Candy to have two Masters?”
“Sure! I don’t care. Yes? What’s the best plan?”
A small, hot titter fled her mouth. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the silly sound. Why was everything feeling so fucking good while she talked to Castle? And why had she just asked him for instruction? That wasn’t like her. She ground her hips forward into her fingers, and her worries slowly popped away, sliding into the abyss of approaching pleasure.
Castle harrumphed. “Probably the simplest thing is just to have them share the one girl, but your quarterback wouldn’t like that, sweetheart.”
Now, Tiffany did notice the slip.
“D-don’t call me that? Okay? J-just...mmmph. Tell me...what do we do?”
“If you would just wait, this would all take care of itself in a few weeks, babe. It’s not complicated.”
Tiffany felt her irritation rising, fighting through the tsunami of arousal pushing through her body. “I don’t have a few weeks, Castle! Next week practically determines the rest of the season!”
Castle harrumphed again. “Very well. I’ll take care of it. Be good, sweetling.”
“You too, love.”
He hung up before she could correct him—or herself.
Why had she called him that? Why had she let him call her so many things? And why...oh fuck, why was she finger-fucking her hot dripping pussy so hard and oh god how was she not cumming already when she was so perfectly turned on and ohhhhh...fuck.
Gasping, moaning, Tiffany soon found herself on the floor, looking up at her shiny black stiletto shoes. Before she fell, some of her pussy juices had dripped on them. They were so shiny.
That was sort of sexy, she decided dreamily. Shiny shoes. Pussy-shined shoes.
Her fingers sped up, and her orgasm was on her before she even knew fully what she was doing.
“Love,” she moaned softly, pulses of orgasms spasming her tight body. “Love, love, love...”
Slowly, she came down from the high of the sudden bliss. Her fingers tasted like pussy, but of course they did. They had been buried in there the entire time she'd been talking with Castle. She giggled, feeling thoroughly silly, and slid her fingers back into her orgasm-hot cunt.
She was the boss. She would do as she liked.
* * * * *
Castle’s solution to Tiffany’s problem was to send the team another maid. She arrived in less than twenty-four hours after Tiffany’s call. This one’s name was Bambi. She looked very much like Candy’s twin, only with lustrous midnight black hair instead of shining blond.
It was the sort of hair, Tiffany noticed idly, that she herself had. Once short and almost bowl-cut, her hair had grown out past he shoulders in thick tresses and natural curls that had never been there before. She rather liked it. The long strands gave her something to twirl when she was flirting with the players in her office. It was nice to have thick, lustrous hair. Men liked that, and Tiffany rather loved what men liked. It was so odd to her how she never thought about how nice it was to do what men wanted before.
Bambi swept into the office, and Tiffany, remembering the way Candy had arrived all kisses and hugs, stood directly in front of the door, ready to intercept her. Tiffany had worn one of her sexier outfits with a tiny sheer blouse and an even tinier white skirt (the heather gray jacket made it all very professional), and put on her freshest, light pink lipstick, wanting to look perfectly kissable—er, presentable. She wanted to present herself well.
Yes. Sure. That was true, in a way.
But, much to her chagrin, Bambi simply held out a hand and shook Tiffany’s.
“Don’t worry, Ma’am,” Bambi said conspiratorially. “Candy already showed me the ropes. I know about your rules.”
“Ah,” said Tiffany. Her smile was shaky, obvious disappointment hiding behind it. “G-good. That’s good. I’m so very pleased.”
Bambi's introduction to Karyle went much the same as Candy’s to Tate.
Karlyle was a tall black man, muscles chisel-cut, with short dark hair that he kept shaved close. When Karlyle walked in initially, his eyes passed over Tiffany appreciatively. Her pencil skirt was just above knee-length, her blouse opened just so. She was an attractive woman, she knew. Tiffany enjoyed men looking at her—Karlyle’s eyes passing over her body gave her a long, distinct thrill.
But the thrill was gone the second Karyle saw Bambi. Just like Tate, he suddenly didn’t care a thing about anything Tiffany had to say.
Tiffany held her hands out. “This is our newest cheerleader, Bambi.”
Karlyle’s eyes were wide, and he approached the sensual, tight young body of Bambi with his mouth open.
“Uh huh,” said Karlyle.
“She’s going to need you to teach her the ropes.”
He nodded dumbly. “Uh huh.”
“It’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Uh huh.”
“She also needs you to wear your shoes on your head, and wear her skirt as a necklace.”
“Uh huh.”
Tiffany sighed. He wasn't going to listen to a thing she said. Without saying a word, Bambi had already let her top slide down to the floor, revealing her mountainous breasts. They were leaking thick milk.
Oh good, thought Tiffany. Maybe she and Candy will be able to talk about what's happening with that. All that lactation couldn't be...couldn't be...
Her brain seemed to blink off and on. Right before it turned off, Bambi and Karlyle had been just about to jump one another's bones. And now that it was on again, Tiffany was in the corner, one hand in her cunt and the other with that lusciously thick, yummy-smelling milk on her fingers somehow.
She gulped, wiping it quickly on her blouse. It soaked easily into the fabric, quickly drying up. Karlyle had Bambi bent over the desk, just like Tate had done to Candy, and was furiously ramming her from behind with his massive black cock. Bambi was moaning in orgasm, moaning for Karlyle's babies, and he seemed only too eager to give them to her.
Stumbling, trying to make sense of what was happening, Tiffany rushed outside. She heard Rebecca's heels clicking away down the floor, signaling her approach. Tiffany squirmed and felt a hot rush of pleasure. What was that all about?
Oh. Her fingers were still buried in her cunt.
With just enough time, she arranged herself properly, pushing thick hair past her forehead. Rebecca smiled sensuously as she saw her boss.
“That Bambi looks like a real good time,” said Rebecca. “Do you think you could introduce me later?”
Over the past couple of weeks, Rebecca's manner and appearance had changed considerably. She had started wearing high-heeled boots to work every day. All kinds too—ankle boots, knee-highs, calf-highs, thigh-highs. Today's were leather, skin-tight, and a deep dark brown. They went along fetchingly with her tiny brown sweater dress. A thick belt hung uselessly around her slender frame, thick breasts making the fabric swell. Rebecca was clearly advertising herself as someone to be taken advantage of.
A series of moans crashed through the office. Curious, Rebecca leaned in, trying to see. Tiffany suddenly felt very dumb. Last time, she had remembered to make this meeting take place later in the day—and to make sure that the blinds were closed. She hadn't been that smart this time.
She giggled. Gosh, she could be a real dumb-dumb.
“Oh my god,” said Rebecca. “They’re really...really fucking in there.”
“Yes,” said Tiffany. “They’re just going at it like animals.”
Rebecca leaned in, her slender body trembling. When had the little brunette become so bold?
In fact, when had she become so little? Rebecca had been rather hefty the last time Tiffany looked. Now she looked positively delicate, her torso tiny. The perfect size for a man’s grip. And her breasts, which had at one point been flat on her chest, were now quite apparent and even...well, delicious to behold.
Both of the women watched, their eyes growing wider with every sweaty, grunt-filled thrust of Karlyle into Bambi's dripping wet cunt. The milk was everywhere. On everything. All over the desk, the floor, sticking papers and folders together.
“Maybe...we should...”
Tiffany let her hand slide down Rebecca’s backside, stopping just above her ass. She tried to pass off Rebecca’s moan of arousal as some strange creaking of the window frame that they both leaned on.
“Watch them?” suggested Rebecca. “It’s...just like those stories...”
It was just like those stories, Tiffany realized. Two people getting together and fucking the second they met. It was an absolutely ludicrous thing to have happen anywhere, let alone in a professional football organization. And yet against all good common sense and basic decency, Bambi and Karyle were going at one another like they had been made for it.
A soft shlicking sound filled the hallway. Shuddering hotly, Tiffany looked down at Rebecca’s hands.
“Are you...” Tiffany gulped, her eyes widening. “Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes,” she said absently, as if there was nothing wrong with it. “You can go ahead. Bambi sees me. She winked. If you just look at her, it’s not like I’m not even here.”
That was strangely comforting. Searching out Bambi's bliss-filled eyes, Tiffany slid her fingers into her own cunt. Immediately, waves of pleasure slid over her body.
This was perfectly fine. This was just two very, very good friends, sharing an experience. There wasn’t even anything like, lesbian-y about it. That’s why it was so totally okay for Rebecca to crawl her chin up Tiffany’s shoulder, and for Tiffany to turn down just so and slide her fresh pink lips across Rebecca’s.
They were wearing the same lipstick, she realized. That was so wonderful. That way, no would know they had been kissing.
That made everything even more okay, Tiffany realized.
Inside, Karlyle shouted out his imminent orgasm. “I'm gonna fucking fill you, girl.”
“Yes, Master! Do it, please!”
“Yeah,” Rebecca moaned. “Do it. Oh god, give it to her...oh fuck, Tiffany! He's not wearing a condom. That's so perfect!”
“Yes!” Tiffany urged. “Yes! Yes!”
Karlyle unloaded into Bambi's tight, unprotected bimbo body, and as he did, Rebecca and Tiffany came with him. It felt so right to watch a man cum, so very natural to feel pleasure because he was feeling pleasure. Tiffany huddled into Rebecca’s body, breathing hard, and they slowly slid down to the ground.
After a moment, Tiffany's head seemed to clear somewhat. Rebecca slid her booted legs around, giggling and moaning as she continued to finger her hot, dripping pussy. A puddle had formed on the floor beneath her.
Tiffany backed up, trying to stand. Suddenly, she was frightened. Her thoughts felt clear and open for the first time in a long time. She had just fingered herself watching her new employee fuck one of her star players, and had encouraged a subordinate to do the same.
What in the hell was coming over her, and why couldn't she think straight at any time unless it was right after she came?
Rebecca moaned, her eyes alive with lust as she looked at Tiffany. She was blowing hot little kisses at her boss, urging her to come down and attend her needs—or let Rebecca attend Tiffany's needs.
Tiffany gulped. It...probably wasn't that important, right? Nothing was coming over her. Nothing that she couldn't solve later. After...
After she sank down to her knees and crawled into Rebecca's sweet, hot grasp. They had so much to discover together.
* * * * *
Week 12
The Tornados' W-L Record: 7-4
“Women know football like men know sewing, and Tiffany Belmont can’t even mend a dress. She’s good for nothing.”
That was the blurb repeated all over the news from the latest interview with Ned Howell, the head coach for the Eliminators. The Eliminators were the Tornados' competition for this week, and Tiffany was incensed—she had to beat them. There could be no room for failure.
While Karlyle and Tate made the perfect duo between themselves, with more than seventy percent of The Tornados' touchdowns happening from passes from Tate to Karlyle, it wasn't enough. The Tornados could run up the score, but they couldn't stop the opposing teams from scoring in the slightest.
“I need like, more,” Tiffany said to Castle on the phone, chewing away a thick stick of bubblegum. “A lot more. I want us to shut down next week’s team.”
She had gotten the gum from Candy. Candy from Candy. Tiffany had devolved into a bout of giggles when she first thought of that hours ago, after chewing on the gum for just about that length of time. It was still funny. Even so, the gum helped keep her mind straight. She kept thinking of stuffing her mouth for some reason—though not with food. She wanted something long and hard to glide her lips over, something steady and sure to teach her what her place was...
Wrong! No! She didn’t need that!
She guided Rebecca's head forward underneath her desk. The buxom brunette's tongue was rather magical. Tiffany had become dependent on her lingual skills to relieve her of stress during calls with Castle. That's why Tiffany had started wearing exclusively tiny skirts to work. Today's barely came down past her ass. She made up for the lack of length with extra-tall thigh-high boots. She borrowed a pair from Rebecca, who had borrowed them from Candy. It was so nice to have girlfriends.
“Next week’s team...” Castle thought for a moment. “Oh. Really? You’re going to be that petty?”
“He insulted me, Castle. I want him put on a fucking stake.”
“What is it that you want, exactly?”
On her knees in front of Tiffany, Rebecca moaned. Tiffany had leaned forward, letting Rebecca really go at her clit. A small, fluttery orgasm began to wrap around her brain.
“My defense. I like, want it back. I was supposed to have a top-of-the-line defense this year. I want them to start acting that way. I want it!”
“The entire defense?” He whistled. “That’s a far cry from one or two star players. Are you sure you need that much, my dear?”
“Yes.” She thought for a moment—struggling to build her will. “And I’m not your dear. Stop that. I’ve like, told you to stop that, okay? So...please don't? Pretty please?”
Her voice was a whine—high-pitched, a cavalcade of giggles hiding just behind it. She thought that was a rather effective way to show she was non-threatening and not serious, and therefore deserved to be listened to by strong men like Castle.
Men listened to women who they could respect, after all, and men didn’t respect women who showed off their power. They only respected women who they could see. Then, a girl could use her feminine wiles and convince him of anything she wanted.
Slowly, Tiffany slid a finger around her fully erect nipple. Her blouse was nanometers thin, and completely see-through. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra, and even more obvious that her large tits didn't even need one. If only she could show Castle her feminine wiles...she would be able to do so very much, then. He’d learn...learn all about what it was to...um...to...
To fuck her? Was that it?
Surely that was it. Castle probably had an enormous cock. Her orgasm was building stronger all the time, Rebecca doing such magical little movements with her tongue.
“It’s going to mean some things you said you didn’t want.”
“I don’t care, Castle. Make it happen, please?”
She slid her fingers through Rebecca's thick brown hair, imagining the glory of the win. They were going to raise her on their shoulders, all the players. All those men, obsessed with her, thankful for her...they
were going to love her for this. They would do so much for her. They would guide her into the locker room and take out their cocks, and all of them would want to fuck her at once, and she would let them, two or three at a time, all those big huge muscular footballs studs unloading on her, inside her, all around her.
They'd probably get her pregnant. All those cocks filling her at once? Oh yeah. She'd get preggo for sure. No way around that. She wasn't on protection, and she had a desperate fear—for some reason she couldn't define—of ever going on birth control.
Candy was pregnant from Tate, after all, and Bambi wasn't too far behind. The blond bimbo's baby bump was already showing, but nobody seemed to mind. Tiffany had even gotten a few calls about what a good role model Candy was for working in such an active environment while pregnant. Her luscious front curve worked so splendidly well in her tiny cheerleading outfits.
Her breathing was become moan-heavy and wet. She had started to drool a little. Her orgasm was right beyond her reach. She pushed her hips forward more, urging Rebecca to lick her harder. The brunette assistant was only to happy to comply.
“All right,” said Castle, apparently paying no mind to Tiffany's obvious complications. “I’ll send over a contract. But read it very, very carefully, okay? There’s a lot in there I think you wouldn’t like, sweetling.”
“But it’ll like, guarantee the rest of the team will be changed, right?”
“Yes, dearie. Of course it will.”
She was rushing now. “Then I’m not sure what else it needs to say. Thank you, baby!”
Tiffany let the phone clamber down on her desk, not even bothering to hang it up properly. Within moments, her orgasm had started to tumble through her body. Her brilliantly tanned thighs squeezed around Rebecca's beautiful face.
“Oh Castle, yes!” she moaned. “Oh Stanny! Stanford, yes! Thank you! Thank you for my teaaam!”
* * * * *
Week 16
The Tornados' W-L Record: 11-4
The Maid For Pleasure Bundle 2 Page 13