The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

After weeks of building up lust, his pent-up arousal finally boiled over, and Terrance had decided to take me for his own.

We were in the study. Strong and proud, he pushed me down onto my knees, my tiny lace outfit ripped apart by his big hands. The swirling tattoos on his ripped, hard arms and chest pulsed. His hands roamed all over my curvaceous body, feeling me up at his leisure.

The past few months had been too much for my morality. As much I knew I should resist, as much as I understood that I shouldn’t just let him have his way, all I really wanted to do was give in to his lusts and be everything that he wanted me to be.

All those skimpy, sexy maid outfits I wore. All those hot fishnets and little skirts. The cleavage-baring dresses and the sexy games of lingerie dress-up with the lady of the house—Terrance had watched all of it, and he wasn’t going to be content watching anymore.

But…but I had to save myself for marriage. I wanted to badly to be a good girl, a proper girl, even though everything about me looked like I was built for fertility and sex. My big breasts, my sexy wide hips, my long blond hair and big blue eyes…he could hardly be blamed for his lust taking him over when I had been teasing him so much.

“I’m going to give it all to you, good girl,” he grunted, yanking my hair hard.

My panties were soaked with lust and torn from his rough grasping. But still…I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t resist. Twisting, I slipped out from his grasp and pushed him to the ground. He stumbled down with a groan, banging his knees and head.

I turned and ran—the door was locked! Scrambling, I yelled and pulled at the door.

Finally it opened—I was saved! I rushed out, and straight into the arms of Mister Castle himself—the billionaire who owned the entire estate. The billionaire who had hired me as the maid.

“Oh, thank you!” I was breathing hard, my heavy tits crushed up against his broad chest. “Thank you, thank you!”

In my relief, I hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t said anything. I hadn’t noticed that he was completely naked, either, his enormously strong body completely ripped and stacked with concrete-like slabs of incredible musculature. And only dimly, after several moments, did I notice that his hands were pushing up my wet thighs and up toward my torn, soaking panties.

I looked up, terrified…and saw that he was grinning.

He’s the devil, I thought. The devil himself. I was completely in his grasp.

And it had me more turned on than I could have ever imagined.

There was still some resistance left in me, no matter how loud my submissive side cooed and moaned about how perfect and right this was.

I tried to back away—but I ran directly into Terrance, who pushed me down onto my knees before Castle. The estate owner’s enormous manhood was displayed before me. I could feel Terrance growing hard against my behind.

There was nothing I could do. There was nowhere I could run.

They were going to take me no matter what I said.

My name is Claudette. All my life, all I’ve wanted to do is be a good girl and follow a strict routine, the sort that I could thrive under.

This would happen, but not in the way I expected.

I began my employment at the Castle estate on a rainy Monday in March, some many months ago, now. I drove up the long, winding path to the estate in the beat-up, sixteen year-old bronze-colored sedan that my mother had given me as a high-school graduation present. I think originally its paint was blue, but time and hard use had taken its toll. As it pushed up the steep hill toward the Castle estate, the engine coughed and sputtered, hacking out what I feared were its final sounds.

The rain had made the road slick, and I swerved more than once as I ascended the hill, but finally I made it up and circled into the drive. There was a tall, dark-haired young man in the garage off the drive, waxing a car in the dry safety under the roof. Intricate tattoos sleeved down his arms. He looked to be about my age. At the same time, I felt instantly that he was more mature than me—something about the way I saw men who worked with cars, who had that sort of rugged cast to their frame and face and hair. He had seen more than I had, done more than I had, held a wealth of experience about the world that I did not.

I saw him, and I felt two things immediately: apprehension and excitement. Someone else my own age to interact with. Someone else my own age to be attracted to.

My own spirits were high, despite the dreary weather. After a year and a half of cleaning up in hospitals all across the city, I was finally going to have a job where I hoped to expect a little more leisure and a lot more pay.

Make no mistake: I am happy to work hard, and I understand that paying your dues is part of the system of benefits in the working world. But I was twenty years old, and I had been working my hands to the bone scrubbing out bedpans and dusting underneath hospital beds, as well as cleaning up vomit and blood and worse.

So, a change of pace like this—where I would be serving as the primary housekeeper for an extraordinarily wealthy, childless couple—did not seem like such a bad alteration to my life. Sure, it wasn’t what I really wanted to be doing; it wasn’t going to the university and chugging away at a liberal arts degree while I figured out what I really wanted to do with my life, but that was okay. It would be money in my pocket.

Good money.

Despite its large size and clear beauty—the house was elegantly designed, made from gray brick, with white wood outlines for every window—there was a sense of some gloom to the place. I don’t claim any sort of clairvoyance or telepathy, but from this enormous house, I could definitely sense some cloud of foreboding over it. There was an unhappiness there, I just wasn’t sure why.

I stepped out of my car and waved to the young handsome man attending the car in the garage. He gave me a slight nod and returned to his duties. I waited in the rain, looking at him, waiting to be told what to do.

“Don’t mind Terrance,” came a booming, masculine voice. “We’re still working on his manners.”

At the front door of the house, now, was a tall handsome man built like a mountain. He wore a silk white shirt, half-unbuttoned, where I could see the firm lines of his muscular chest and torso. The rain did not seem to bother him.

“Sir?” I ventured. “Mister Castle?”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s me. You must be Claudette?”

I nodded, holding out a hand. His grip was firm, almost encapsulating my entire hand with just his fingers.

“Wonderful to meet you.” He had a blue, steel-eyed gaze, as firm as his handshake. “We’ve been needing someone here to attend to the estate. I trust you’re ready to work?”

“Yes, Sir.” I nodded, smiling. “Very happy to do so.”

“Good.”

Very quickly, I was introduced to the small staff. Besides Terrance, there was a bushy-haired groundskeeper, Elliot, and an old cook who went by Spoons. Both were busy with their duties when I arrived. Elliot was in a work station behind the garage, attending to the lawnmower, prepping it for work later that afternoon if it heated up enough to dry out the rain-wet grass. Spoons was making some form of stew for supper, deeply involved in his work. His shirt sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, stirring and adding in ingredients, growling in frustration as he had to step away and hurriedly pound or hack at some new fetch of meat.

They had little to say. That was fine by me. I’ve never been much of a social butterfly, not even back in high school. I always preferred being left alone to do my work. Castle seemed pleased by this, and—though I instantly derided myself for being suspicious—I got the sense that he didn’t want anyone to get along with me in the household. I got the sense that he wanted me to have no one to depend on but himself.

My mother had warned me about men like Castle. Rich, handsome, offering you the world. My mother had something to say about virtually every sort of man. What this started to mean over time to me, of course, was that really what she was worried about was girls like me.

I don’t exactly know why. I looked nothing like my mother—who was short, dark-haired, and had dark olive Italian skin. I took more after my father, who was Irish, and ended up taller, busty, somewhat pale, and with long blonde hair that never quite sat right on my head. My suspicion was that once upon a time, my mother had some bad experience with some blond girl giving her hell over a man. So, I grew up under the lens of these dark resentments, told all the ways in which I made men go wild and out of control.

Sometimes men would hit on me. They would ire my eyes, or my hair, or my smile. I know truly they were looking at my bust—this is what most men looked at when it came to my body. I had big 36D breasts, which at that time I mostly considered a sort of nuisance. Still, they were good for a free drink now and again—but that wasn’t exactly the best trade off for endless stares and probably being the star of a thousand different jerk-off fantasies.

Not that I ever thought too much about men jerking off their cocks to my body. No. I was much too good a girl to do that—not even while I was hugging my pillows at night, trying to go to sleep.

After we made the rounds, Castle brought me into his office. It was large, like everything in the estate was large. The walls had big animal heads posted on them in between sections of ancient-looking maps.

The desk he had was enormous. It was more than four feet deep and twelve feet across. Only a small portion of that was taken up by his effects—a small laptop, pen and paper, an empty coffee mug. The rest was bare cherry wood, polished.

I sat down across from him, feeling a bit exposed, which is silly in hindsight. I had no idea what exposed was, then, but I would soon enough.

“Your employment begins today, after this meeting. There is much to be done.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I tried not to let my disappointment show. It had been a six hour drive to get to the estate from my tiny apartment in the city. I had been hoping for some time to settle myself in my new quarters.

“Is that a problem?”

I didn’t say that it was, of course. “No, Sir. Not at all, Sir.”

“I will expect many things from you, I hope you understand.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leaned back in his seat, clearly ogling me. I allowed it—what else could I do? He was rich, and powerful, and he owned this entire place. I just wanted him to get it out of his system.

Mostly. I mean, it’s not as though he was unpleasant to look at himself. So, while he ogled me, I ogled him. He was easy to ire...the tight tuck of his torso, the perfect shape of his strong jaw, the size of his hands...

For a few minutes, he talked at length about the duties of the house—cleaning the different wings, dusting and polishing and vacuuming and scrubbing. There were a few art pieces I was to leave alone, as he had specialists come in and inspect them every quarter to address their specific needs. He listed several such pieces—more than I could , in fact—and said that if I had any doubts about whether something was too valuable for me to touch or not that I should simply leave it be. I could easily do that, and the rest of what he asked, and I told him so.

He leaned forward then, his massive frame pushing down on the desk. “There is something else.”

“Sir?”

“I have lost a great many maids over the course of my time. Not many last much beyond two or three months. I am a demanding employer, I suppose.”

“I understand, Sir.”

“Possibly it also has to due with my wife, as well. My wife and I…we are both very ionate people.”

I had almost forgotten about his wife.

“Will I meet her soon, Sir? Your wife.”

“She’s out of town at the moment. On one of her little vacations. We had a bit of a conflict recently. As I said, we are ionate. We find it better to sort out our emotions away from each other, otherwise…” he shrugged. “Well. There are a lot of valuables in this house to throw, you understand.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I expect your discretion in such cases if they occur.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“If you find any of these altercations…unsavory, you may leave immediately. Your guaranteed pay is five thousand dollars. But should you decide to stay on for the duration of your contract—that is, at the end of the year, then you shall be awarded an extra fifty thousand dollars.”

I struggled to stay in my seat. An extra fifty thousand dollars, simply for completing a contract that I had agreed to already?

“That’s very generous of you, Sir.”

If he were to offer that much, though…certainly there was something wrong. I wasn’t completely stupid. Something he was doing was illegal, maybe. Perhaps he was some rich super stud serial killer, banding about the countryside and bringing back virgins here to sacrifice, expecting me to clean up the mess.

Probably I would have run off if I found out that was going on. I don’t know, to be honest. Buried in debt as I was, I was desperate for money and I think I would have done anything at that time to dig myself out of the hole my parents had put me in.

But, I calmed myself by ing that this was a brilliantly rich man who came from a brilliantly rich family. He probably thought drying himself after a shower was too low-class of a duty for him. Who could even say what he thought was a nasty altercation? All this job would be was working as a maid—and I certainly was no stranger to messes. As I said, my job before this one had been working for a cleaning crew at a dingy inner-city hospital. I knew I could handle whatever was thrown my way here at this estate.

The meeting was over. I stood up to leave.

“Before you begin today,” he said, “I need you to go with Terrance. There are some tests that you must run through before your employment is complete.”

“Driving tests, Sir?”

That was the only thing that made sense to me, as Terrance was handling the car when I came in.

“Driving…? No.” He shook his head, smiling. “Ah. You think he is just the chauffeur. No, Terrance has many responsibilities in my employ. He will explain the rest.”

I come from a small home in Texas. Despite the smallness of our home, however, we were a large family in number. There were ten of us in a small house that my mother and father had bought right out, after my father won the lottery shortly after his marriage to my mother. They had planned, at the time, for no more than two children. Luckily for me, that turned out to be an underestimation, as I am the fourth of the seven children in the household (though often I was made to feel as the oldest and youngest, depending on the moods of the other children and my parents).

My father liked to say that the lottery win was the last of his luck. Some men, and some women I suppose, are able to grow emotionally when they obtain larger families. Their comion for the people around them only multiplies as the number of people close to them grow. My father was not such a man.

Shortly after the birth of my older brother—the youngest of the three boys in my family—father lost his hand at the factory, and then grew ill. He developed a strange lung sickness that compelled him to cough all throughout the day and night, and no medicine that we procured could do anything for it.

As you may expect and in fact may in some ways excuse, he more and more often found his escape from the toils of life in drinking and in procreation. As I am the first of my parent’s many experiments in finding out whether a new child would reinvigorate their love for one another, I have always had what my schoolteachers would call a sort of “peculiar melancholy” about me. I knew that while I had been wanted, I was not actively desired. My younger sisters, all three of them, seemed to feel this as well, and all of them went out of their way to rebel to gather father’s attention and mother’s love.

For myself, I tried to be as obedient as possible, to do every last thing these two authoritative figures in my life asked for. Even so, I could never seem to earn their love. To my brothers and sisters, I was a goody two-shoes. To my parents, I was a snob for wanting to right by them and hoping for some affection in return. The lack of my father’s income did not stop my mother or even him from spending as they had when they had first obtained their enormous fortune. Before I was fourteen, they had sent us wildly into debt, and to make money, he had all seven of us apply for student loans that went to ing him. He, and my mother, were rather manipulative in this fashion. I wanted them to live, but I did not want to be responsible for it.

Finally, when I was eighteen, I left their home for the city. I didn’t care where I went, particularly, so long as it was away from them. I managed to find a small closet apartment in a duplex where I roomed with an older woman who smelled like anchovies and farts, probably because she ate lots of anchovy pizzas and farted quite a lot. I spoke to her as little as possible and got a job as a sanitation worker in short order.

Then, through the magic of the internet (which I was able to access only through the library, as my tiny home certainly didn’t have a connection), I found the job at the Castle estate. It was his lawyer who hired me—an attractive young Asian woman who had dressed in smart, tight-fitting suits. She said, after a very long interview that asked me all sorts of hypothetical moral questions, that she thought I would “conform well” to Mister Castle’s interests.

The night after my first day at Castle’s estate was over, I lay on the bed and allowed my thoughts to collect.

The tests that Terrance ran on me were unnaturally intrusive. I stuck with them, however, thinking all the while of the money involved. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars, just for sticking with this for a year. I could certainly do that.

He took blood tests, several of them. The entire time, he would not speak to me. I got the feeling very quickly that he hated me for some reason. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to press it, lest I give him even more reason to think more of the same.

My stomach grumbled. After the tests, I had been required to do a full tour of the grounds with Elliot, so that I would know where to begin cleaning the next morning. But after the long bout of blood testing, my energy was completely drained, and I hadn’t been able to search the kitchen for a snack. Spoons guarded its interior with a crusty curmudgeonly attitude that was matched only by the amount of ladles he threatened to beat my behind with if I broke or touched anything.

My stomach grumbled again. I had heard of this before, read it in books and such, but I was too tired to even go to sleep. My brain lacked the power to shut itself off.

Struggling, I sat up in the bed. My busty, young form was covered by a slender pair of pajamas—sweats and a two-sizes too-small t-shirt that was one of the few things I had leftover from home. The shirt had on it the faded out color logo from a charity run I had participated in the sixth grade. In my tenure working at the hospital, I had not gathered enough spare income for a decent wardrobe, and certainly not one for sleeping.

Through stumbles and trips, I made my way through the immense mansion, searching out my prey—any food at all.

In the pantry of the large, luminously white kitchen downstairs, I found what I needed. Chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. I didn’t want to eat a ton—it was so late, after all—but I certainly was going to down a few bars. Enough to tide me over till morning.

“How do you like it so far?”

I jumped. In the darkness of the kitchen, it was impossible to see who had said that. I heard a light switch flip on, and slowly the lights powered up.

It was Terrance. He was dressed similarly to me, in a small amount of clothing that was perhaps too revealing. Tiny boxer briefs—I could see the outline of his enormous manhood beneath them—and a short white undershirt. Little fingers of heat pressed against my body, seeing him like that. My nipples began to firm up. My crotch tingled. His body was hard and muscular, like a swimmer or a gymnast, with that kind of tight core that every other perfect piece of muscle so clearly wrapped around. Tattoos wrapped around his arms—pictures of interlocking skulls on one side, and the other held flames and flowers.

Let’s get this out of the way right here and now—there was something about him that reminded me of my brothers. Certainly he looked a bit like them—they were all handsome and tall like him, and in very good shape. But it was more than that. It was more in the way he seemed to dismiss me out of hand, the way he didn’t seem to care about anything I said. So, because I am completely unable to deal with my emotional past, I think a lot of my baggage got transferred onto Terrance almost right away—I wanted to impress him. I wanted him to care for me. I wanted him to want to do right by me.

I couldn’t help myself wanting to do this…and yet, at the same time, I could feel myself wanting it, and disliked it, and also disliked it the strange comparisons to my brother when I felt such a rush of sexual heat from Terrance’s presence…and so I decided I hated him.

Hate is so much like love. Either emotion just gathers up all the little minutia about a person; they just go into different baskets, that’s all.

“Did you hear me?” he asked. “I asked you something.”

“Oh,” I gulped. “Yes. I’m sorry. You just startled me.”

“You still startled?”

“No. I suppose not.”

“Okay then. How about an answer?”

“Um.”

I hadn’t had too much time to think about it, really. All day I had been busy. Not run ragged—they certainly weren’t asking me to do anything outside of my area of expertise or willingness—but busy nonetheless. It was a large estate. I figured that I would only have time each day to work through one of its four wings. By the time I made it around to the last, the one I finished originally would need another round of cleaning. The estate was, I noticed, was rather dusty already—the last maid didn’t seem to have done a good job of leaving everything in order.

But, that was all right. There was job security in dirtiness, if nothing else.

“It’s all right. Everyone seems…nice.”

“Nice, huh? That how I seem?”

Right away I knew I had said something wrong…I just didn’t know what it was. Who wouldn’t like to be called nice?

“I…yes? I mean, I don’t really know. We’ve only just started talking…and…”

As I said, I was instantly attracted to him, even though I felt dislike mounting a quick offensive to counter my growing desire. I think his attitude made me even more attracted to him. His muscles clearly visible underneath his tight shirt. The cut shelves of his pecs pressed against his shirt, the tight avenue of his abs trim and succulent.

So, when he came at me—rushed at me, really, I didn’t know what to do. He was bigger than me. He could pin me down if he wanted. I tried not to let myself get carried away with the eroticism of such a thought.

Instead of pinning me, though, or kissing me, he took some of the chocolate out of my hand and took a bite. He smiled at me.

“That tastes nice.”

I nodded. I was still so hungry. I wanted it back.

“Stop being a jerk,” I insisted. “That’s mine.”

“Yeah? You want some?”

I nodded again. He slipped the chocolate forward, letting it run into my mouth. Feeling weak and helpless, I let my lips run over it slow, chewing it down. He smiled, watching me. The bastard was enjoying this.

“Here,” he said, rubbing the corner of my mouth with his thumb. He sucked the chocolate off slow. “You’re sort of sloppy at eating.”

“I’m better when I can be the one to hold it.”

“I’ll bet you are.” He put a hand on my hip and pulled me against his body. I didn’t know how to stop him. I didn’t know if I wanted to. “I bet you know just how to...hold it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop being so crude.”

I tried to back away, but he wouldn’t let me, instead tugging me closer. My nipples brushed against his hard chest.

“You’re going to be seeing a whole lot of me in this place. Is that all right by you?”

“I don’t…” I kept gulping for more breath. “I mean, I…yes? Yes…yes.”

That seemed to please him. “Good girl.”

I whimpered a bit. That was something of a trigger word for me. It always had been. It was what I had always longed to be called.

He walked away then, leaving the chocolate on the counter. I was breathless, turned on.

It was only after I started walking back to my room that I realized he had been testing me. He wanted to see how far he could push me, how easy I was or wasn’t to take advantage of. It turned out, I was very easy.

“I’ve got to watch myself in this place,” I said.

I had no idea.

Wednesday, Mister Castle left the estate on business. That night and the night after, I had the entire place to myself, more or less. Terrance was busy fixing up a car for a trip the following week—Mister Castle liked to have specific cars for specific trips, and he expected them to have no trouble. No flat tires, no engine problems, no transmission issues, nothing. So, Terrance was consumed by that.

At first I thought this was fine—good! He was a brute. I was better off without seeing him. But the more I thought about him, the more I thought about all the good sensations he brought me...the way my nipples had danced on his chest, the strength of his hard, hot hands on my hips. I had decided, at the least, to try and flirt with him a little on my own . But, there wasn’t enough time for it, and when I did see him, he was often too busy to engage.

I felt somewhat ashamed by how much I wanted to talk with him, spend time with him. After all, I had decided to hate him and his stupid, sexy, mouth-watering body and dangerous tattoos. But since our night in the kitchen, I felt more and more bold about doing so. I had been such a wreck then—the drive, the interviews, the tours, the tests, the hunger—that I had barely been functional. Out of a strange sense of pride, I wanted to show him that I was more of a woman than perhaps he thought.

Secretly, deep down, another thought shadowed my mind. It had been so easy for him to take advantage of me in the kitchen when I was already weakened—but what if it was still easy for him when I felt like I was at full strength?

Wouldn’t that be something? Wouldn’t that be…well, hot?

I tried not to think too much about it. I tried very generally not to occupy my head with too many sexual thoughts in those days. I believed, rather firmly, that sex was something only for the person you loved, and even then only after marriage. My sisters had made whores of themselves with the entire town, and my brothers had stuck their parts into every girl willing, and between the six of them, I was rather certain that the sexual disease rates of our town skyrocketed.

Still, at times I was jealous of them. Their easy grasp on all things sexual. It was something as far beyond me as responsibility was to them.

There was much to sexuality I didn’t understand. I didn’t quite know why some men turned me on so much, or why some women did too, even when I knew how incredibly wrong it was for a woman to be turned on by another woman. Feelings are not designed with the switch to deny them made easy to find, but still I tried, and tried, and tried.

The people in this house would try me even more than I could imagine.

On my fifth day of employment, Friday, the lady of the estate, Mister Castle’s wife Lilah, came home. I was surprised to find how young she actually was. From the photos around the house—almost all of which I had cleaned by that time—I knew she was beautiful. She was an illustriously beautiful woman—the sort that you would imagine a billionaire marrying. She probably could have had an incredible career as a model or a movie star or anything else that had “fantastically good looks” as a prerequisite. She had gorgeous chestnut hair that she was always fashioning in some new expansive style, an incredibly fit body, and breasts that even rivaled mine for bodily real estate. Originally, she was from some small Eastern European country—though she spoke English perfectly. There was always, though, that slight accent that surrounded her words, dipping them into exotic honey before they slipped into your thoughts.

She was that sort of elegant, effortless beauty who appeared almost timeless, and so that even though she was rather young—just twenty-four—she appeared somewhat more mature. Still, I would have been hard-pressed to put an actual age to her if I hadn’t known it already, as twenty-four seemed too young just as twenty-eight or thirty-five would have seemed too old. I just knew she was beautiful, almost defying the standards of aging with her jaw-dropping bust, her wildly expressive blue eyes, thick lips, and stunning jawline. It was very easy to think of sliding your head against that chin, that neck, in the space of their meeting, and melting away into nothingness. Very easy indeed.

I saw her at first from a distance—seeing her arrive in a town car from a window in the third floor of the estate. As she came closer, I made my way through the mansion, hoping to intercept her on her way to the Master bedroom.

When she didn’t arrive right away, I assumed she had stopped in the snack, or was refreshing herself with other of the household.

I waited for nearly an hour before realizing she wasn’t coming that way—stopping for a snack or no.

It turned out that I was mistaken—Spoons told me, with his usual gruff attitude, that she did not sleep in the Master bedroom with Mister Castle. Due to some dispute unknown to myself or any of the rest of the staff, she stayed in the south wing, opposite his. This new sleeping arrangement was a recent development which had started shortly before my arrival and shortly before her trip. I wondered if the events were all related.

Her new part of the estate was enormous, as all the parts were. It was sparsely decorated, though, and while everything was elegant, it was elegant in a way that Castle clearly desired. Nothing about the decorations, from the maroon curtains to the intricate ivory doorhandles, really spoke to much about Lilah, giving the impression that she was as much a possession there as anything else. Perhaps this was true.

I bumped into her at last by accident, toward the evening. I was just finishing up my duties, and ran into a sitting room to check for any missed spots, where I saw her lounging in a small chair. Her lavishly gorgeous body was splayed outward, a small book on Roman history in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. She had on a sumptuously gorgeous outfit—a tight red sweater with a stylish black collar, showing off the swell of her hot young breasts, and a pair of tiny leather pants that clung unreservedly to every last part of her long legs and sculpted behind.

I noticed all of this, of course, because I quickly had to figure why the sight of her turned me on so much.

I decided, with very much internal debate, that it was just something in the air of this room. I would need to make sure to clean it thoroughly so that the air was flowing properly.

“Hello there,” she said. “Who are you?”

“Claudette, ma’am. I’m the new maid.”

“Are you, now? The one my illustrious husband hired?”

“That’s right, ma’am.”

“How very interesting.”

She sat up in the couch, one long leg still cocked over its top. Her expensive heel dangled, kept there effortlessly. Right away, her countenance seemed predatory. Her voice was smoky and dark, and seemed to raise the temperature of the room exponentially with the more words that she uttered.

“Oh, my.” She took a long sip of her wine. “You’re a lovely girl.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Very lovely, indeed. Do you think you are prettier than I am?”

I hadn’t expected this line of questioning. “Ma’am?”

“Are you hard of hearing? It was a simple enough question. Do you think you’re prettier than I am?”

“I…couldn’t say.”

“Of course you could. We’re only a few years apart, after all. It’s even a bit silly, you calling me ma’am.”

“Oh.”

“I do enjoy it, though, hearing the word coming out of your pretty little mouth. That deference. Do not stop.”

“No, ma’am.”

Her smile was slow and constant. She was in absolute control of the situation, and of me. We both could feel it. All the power in the room shifted on one specific axis, and that axis was Lilah. I could feel myself slipping into her gorgeous green-eyed gaze, taking in breath after breath faster and faster, feeling as though she was sucking up everything vital.

“That’s a good girl. Tell me, how good are you willing to be for this household?”

There were those words again. Good girl. I struggled not to whimper. I had more strength than that, I hoped.

“Ma’am?”

“We must get that hearing checked.” She raised her voice. “I asked how good are you willing to be for this household?”

“Very good, ma’am.” I hoped that was a decent answer. After a moment, I added, “As good as you need.”

“And my husband? Will you be good for his needs, as well?”

Almost, I had to ask her again what she said, but I stopped myself. “Y-yes, ma’am. I think so.”

“And so. Are you prettier than me?”

I examined her for a moment.

“I am…I am unsure, ma’am. My own tastes are…”

“You’re not a lesbian, is what you’re saying.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Not bisexual, either?”

“No, ma’am.”

I am sure that at this time, I was blushing bright red.

“A pity. I am.”

She stood up then, setting down her wine and her book, approaching me slowly. Her walk was deliberate—showing off the way her tiny leather pants let her hips flare wide. Her tight sweater only came down to the point above her belly-button—leaving a good four inches or so of sexy, hot torso and waist for me to ire. I did just that, even with shame rising in me.

“Oh,” I said.

“I think you’re very, very pretty, my dear.” She cupped my face. “I think I should like to use you as my personal little dressing doll. I have so many beautiful outfits that Samuel gives me. I can’t possibly wear them all. It’s a shame for them to rot in the closet, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so, ma’am?” Everything was happening very fast.

“You know I am a tailor. A hobby of mine.” She let her hand slide down my hip, pushing tightly. Both her hands, now. They slipped around me—fingers dancing. We were in an embrace, and yet it felt like something different. It felt like she was measuring me and sounding me out at the same time. “Oh yes, I think I could use you for a great many outfits. I’ll be able to refit so many. You’re bustier than I am.” She laughed. “I didn’t even know that was possible! Look at you, in that flirty little maid’s outfit. I’ll bet you’re already turning Terrance’s head, aren’t you?”

I stumbled out some string of unintelligible words.

“Wouldn’t you like to look pretty for him? Wouldn’t that be lots of fun?”

Still red faced, I nodded. Her presence was so overwhelming.

“Then we have come to an accord!”

She stepped away and clapped her fingers together, very excited.

“We have?” I felt lost.

“You shall wear whatever I tell you to. Every morning, you will attend yourself to my door, naked.”

“Naked?”

She flapped her fingers a bit. “Wearing a robe, fine. But I must dress you from toe to tip. This won’t work otherwise. Undergarments included, yes.”

“Ma’am, I…”

“Oh?” She looked truly disappointed. “Backing out already? Your duties require you to maintain a certain appearance for this position, you know. I suppose you don’t really want this job.”

“I do, ma’am, I just don’t see what…”

“Don’t see what? Speak up, now, or I shall have to order a speech therapist for you as well as a hearing aid.”

“I don’t see how what I wear affects my duties.”

“Well, let’s deconstruct that, shall we?” She appeared delighted; something new to take apart. “Your duties here are to work as a maid. That means cleaning. But why do we want you to clean?”

“So you…so you live in a clean place?”

“Precisely! And why would I want to live in a clean place?”

“To live in a dirty place is…unseemly. Unpleasurable.”

She rushed at me then, almost scaring me—but her face was full of delight. “Un. Pleasurable. That is it, my dear. That is so, so very right. So you can see, then as well as I can—and no doubt my husband can as well—that this is entirely about pleasure. Your role is to provide us pleasure.”

She could no doubt see the guilty apprehension on my face. She drew forward, her face coming very near to mine. A kiss was a mere thought away.

“Terrance will no doubt adore what I put you in. Don’t you want to impress him? Wouldn’t that be grand?”

Her breath was so soft and hot. I turned my cheek, but that just let my lips slide right across hers.

Oh god. I had kissed her. Completely on accident, but I had done it.

“Oh my,” said Lilah, in mock surprise. “That was interesting. Did you just kiss me?”

“N-no. No ma’am. It was an accident, and—”

“I see. You don’t want to kiss me?”

“No, I mean, I don’t want to…ma’am?”

“So, you do want to kiss me?”

I stamped my foot a little, clenching and unclenching my fists. “I’m very confused overall, ma’am!”

Pushing against me, she delivered a soft series of kisses along my cheeks. They were dry, chaste almost, except for how rapidly they were delivered.

“Don’t worry, dear. Your job is safe. I’m finding you rather delightful. Just do what I say, all right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

My mind reeled. I felt drunk with lust.

“Now, take off your clothes. I want to see the canvas I have available.”

She stepped away now and returned to her cup of wine, urging me on with waving fingers. I expected her perhaps to turn around or leave the room, but of course she didn’t. She merely looked at me in anticipation.

I didn’t know what else to do. I felt my job was at stake. This woman—this urgent woman, this overpoweringly sexy woman, this completely manipulative woman—had taken my every sensational input by storm. I could feel myself wanting to have her see me naked.

And of course, at the bottom of all that was the knowledge that she could have me fired whenever she wanted.

So, soon, I was standing there in front of her, as naked as the day I was born. I tried in vain to bend over and cover my tits, but she would have none of it.

“Stand up straight, yes.” She nodded. “Arms at your side. There you are. Good girl.”

One hundred fifty thousand dollars, I thought. Enough money for a lifetime. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

“Relax, girl. You’ll never fit in anything of mine without relaxing a bit.”

I tried to do as she said, taking in a deep breath.

“Wonderful breasts.” Her palms pressed hard against my nipples, mashing my tits and then pushing them up and together. “So very, very nice. Good girl.”

I shook a little at that phrase once more. This time I could not restrain my whimper. Somehow she knew that was the thing to call me—their good girl.

Her good girl, I mean. Not their.

It’s not like I needed Lilah and Castle’s approval, tly. It wasn’t like…wasn’t like I had some big massive gap in my life from powerful male and female forces.

I didn’t have much time to focus on it. Her hands floated down to my crotch.

“Now, this bush…” she tsked. “It’s a bit much.”

“Much, ma’am?” I was practically squeaking.

“Yes. You’ll have to trim it done. Or,” she raised an eyebrow enthusiastically, “we can simply remove the lot of it. You’ll notice my own hair is entirely gone. I’ll show you later.”

Her fingers slid up past the area of my crotch, then, and directly to my pussy. Her thumb slid around for a moment, finding my clit. I let out a little hobbled gasp of pleasure.

“Oh my. Very wet. Have I excited you, good girl? Have I made you feel naughty?”

I whimpered again in response, looking at her with pleading eyes. God, but she was so damned pretty!

“I expect you to go do something about that right away. Do you understand me? You’re going to take care of yourself, and that naughty feeling you’ve got. Do you know what I mean?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“You’re going to go masturbate. You’re going to finger that delicious little cunny of yours, and when you’re done, you’re going to call out my name and thank me for telling you to do it. Won’t you, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She smiled. “Wonderful.” Her fingers pushed hard against my clit for a final time, kissing me right under my chin…and then she pulled away.

“Run along, then. Take care of it.”

I did exactly as she ordered me to, and ran back to my room, naked the whole time. I had never cum so hard, or for so long, in my entire life.

It was the first of many such experiences.

Saturday arrived, and my sheets were still dirty with all the juices that I had unleashed the night before as I came, and came again, thinking of my “interview” with Lilah in the sitting room. She was everything I had ever imagined a woman was supposed to be—beautiful, seductive, unstoppable, knowledgeable, and completely approving of my desires. Knowing that someone like that was in the house with me was a maddening prospect. Knowing that she wanted to dress me up in outfits all of her own desire was even more of one.

As I had been ordered, I showed up that morning to Lilah’s room completely naked—wearing only a tiny robe that I was able to ferret out deep from the closet of my limited room. She was in the shower when I arrived—but the clothes she wanted me to put on were already arranged.

It was a tiny little farce of a French maid’s outfit—the sort that you might see at a Halloween costume party. The rear of the skirt was puffed up so that the only way my panties wouldn’t be showing—frilly lacy things, thanks to Lilah—was if I stood completely straight. But standing straight wasn’t really often in the job description of a maid.

She also had prescribed a pair of sexy pump heels with gold buckles. They looked rather expensive—all of it did, and even though it was overtly sexual and even whorish, it was the most expensive outfit I had ever put on.

I rushed to get the outfit on before Lilah was done with the shower. I managed to step out just as she was turning off the water.

As always, I went to work. It was difficult all day, working in the clothes that Lilah picked out for me. The dress was far too short for someone with long legs like mine, and as I said I could not bend over without flashing my panties. No one was ever around, but always I looked, feeling twin feelings of excitement and shame. If I bent forward—dusting or wiping down a surface—then my cleavage would begin to spill outward. I was constantly readjusting, and all the readjustments were making me hot. I had to keep touching my nipples, pulling at my panties and sliding the soft lace against my clit. The panties Lilah had chosen were sheer and white, and the slightest breeze was enough to make me tremble with desire, feeling like the gentle fingertips of a lover on my most private area.

In the afternoon, I was no longer able to work without an eyewitness. I came into a study where Lilah lounged, and, with my hands full of cleaning supplies, I quickly tried to excuse myself.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said. “I’ll just take care of this later.”

“No,” she said, sitting up. “You’ll do it now.”

From the look in her eyes, she clearly liked the way I looked. I couldn’t help but like the way she looked. Her outfit from the day before had, in some ways, flipped—now she wore a tight leather top, a zipper straining under the weight of her enormous breasts, with a small red skirt showing off the long lines of her tanned legs and bright red heels adorning her feet.

“Now, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she said, that predatory smile returning. “I’m not satisfied with the level of cleanliness in this place, you understand? It’s not up to my standards, yet.”

“Standards?”

“Yes. You know, those things you have to keep up with, or else your job is in jeopardy?”

“O-oh,” I bumbled with the cleaning supplies. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll take care of it right away.”

Straight back to that again. Even if she wasn’t powerfully sexual, and easily capable of dominating my confused lustful ambitions, she also completely controlled my future. Her, and her husband. Fear and anticipation followed me around like old friends, knowing they were waiting for me.

Lilah pointed me to the desk where had her books gathered, ordering me to wipe the surface clean. As I did, she examined my cleavage—the way her tiny outfit had it pressing out and up. Beads of sweat accumulated, sliding slowly down my neck. The room was very cool. It was Lilah who made me hot.

I felt humiliated. I felt turned on. I was the object of her desire.

“There’s a spot, there,” she pointed. “Under the desk, there.”

I cleaned that as well, bending down farther—and her eyes stayed on me.

This went on for a good several minutes. More and more, every spot she picked out was lower, lower, lower, until I was on my knees. And once there, she had more low spots—the corners between the bookcases, the spot behind the trash can. I didn’t even bother to get up anymore, simple crawling from one spot to the next. She seemed to have great fun with this, drinking her little glass of brandy and massaging her nipples.

Finally, she put her heel on my tight young ass, digging the stiletto edge of it into my flesh.

“Stay just like that,” she ordered.

I looked back, and saw that she was fingering her pussy on the desk. There was no shame to her. She wanted me to watch her stroking her body—she wanted me to know that she got off on making me do what she said.

“Don’t move,” she said, her breaths getting fast. “Don’t do anything. You’re perfect like that. A good girl. Such a good girl.”

On the floor, I could do nothing to whimper. If she hadn’t ordered me explicitly not to move, I may have started to touch myself as well. But I had to follow orders. I just had to. I wouldn’t be a good girl if I didn’t.

And so, I watched her, my blond hair brushing against the very clean floor, as her motions around her panties increased. Faster and faster, her head sinking back into a blissful, relaxed smile.

“Oh yes,” she moaned. “That’s it. Such a good girl. So good. So good…”

Her orgasm was a loud moan thrumming through the study.

“Go on,” she said, after calming down for a moment. “Go on then. A good girl continues her duty.”

I didn’t know what else to do. I obeyed and returned to cleaning.

That evening, Mister Castle arrived home.

As what would become usual, I was not there to greet him at his arrival, but only heard of it through the honking of his horn. This was customary, as the estate was so enormous and the servants so few that a little noise had to be made to keep things running. I was just finishing up my duties for the day, and hoped perhaps to talk to Terrence to ask him what to do about Lilah. I didn’t know if he could help or not, but at least he could tell me if I was unique, or if Lilah did this with every maid. Were these the ionate activities that Mister Castle warned me about?

If they weren’t, I shuddered to think what he might have been referring to instead.

There was a system of intercoms in the house—a necessity for a place so big. I had already learned how to use the wall-planted devices in the preceding days.

“I’d like a drink.”

His drink was a whiskey on the rocks, I already knew. He drank an expensive sort of whiskey with a blue ribbon label. And so, I rushed down to the kitchen—Spoons already had it waiting for me on a tray—and then very carefully I rushed back upstairs to his study with what he requested. I took a moment before entering to make sure that my tits, still constrained in my tiny maid’s outfit, would not bounce out right away.

He was waiting for me, his jacket off, sitting on the large tall-backed chair in front of his fireplace.

“Hello, Claudette.”

“Welcome back, Sir.”

He took a long sip from his drink, eyeing me up and down. “You’re looking fine.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

I could not help but preen, smiling and then blushing a bit at my enjoyment of his compliment.

“Did my wife pick that out for you?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir. She thought it would make me look…more appropriate.”

“And you conceded? What a good girl.”

Those words, from his mouth, made me tremble.

He had made possibly the least sexual overtures toward me from the trio of him, Lilah, and Terrance. And yet it was he, Mister Castle, who now occupied the most room of the arousal space in my brain. How could he not? He was so powerful, so enormous, so devilishly handsome. And I was alone with him in his study in this big, big house…and he could tell just from looking at me that I would do whatever he said.

Still looking me up and down, he set his drink on his desk.

“Let’s have a look at you, then.”

“Sir?”

“Put your hands on the table there.” He pointed at the small coffee table in front of the fireplace across from the seat. It was below my knees. “It’s time for an inspection. I have to compare notes with my wife, make sure that you’re dressed how she re. We wouldn’t want you cheating, after all.” He stopped. “Or don’t you still want this job?”

Oh god. They all knew, didn’t they? They all knew what kind of a woman they had working under them. They all knew she would just keep doing what she was told, again and again, her hot little body getting hotter and hotter…

Trembling, I put my hands on the desk as he ordered.

“Spread your legs out, now.”

Moaning slightly, I did.

“Wider. Give me a good look.”

Still trembling, I did so.

He placed his hands upon my legs then. His rough fingertips slid over the soft flesh of my thighs, feeling higher and higher still. I felt certain he was going to stick his fingers inside of my pussy…but he stopped, then. He stopped before he even felt my tiny, flimsy panties.

“Stand up.”

I let out a sigh of relief—and my breath was so quick that my nipple popped from my top. Quickly I adjusted it, but in doing so, I had to rub the offending nipple around…exciting me even more than his touch had. My nipples were soon rock hard, and when I turned, he could see them.

“I see. You are a good girl, aren’t you?”

I turned my head down and gulped. “Yes, Sir. I try, Sir.”

“Do you know what we do with good girls around here, Claudette?”

“No, Sir.”

“Whatever we want, my dear. Whatever we want.”

More and more, I was finding out how true that was.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door. I opened it, of course, obediently his servant.

It was Lilah.

“Darling! Welcome home.”

She swept immediately past me, attending to her husband. Her arms were around him almost instantly—whatever their dispute had been, it had been buried, I suppose. Or forgotten. Or waylaid, somehow, via recent circumstances.

I left them to their business.

By now of course, I am sure you are pulling your hair out in frustration.

Get out of there! Take all your things and leave immediately! Gather evidence, file a grievance, make sure they all pay for doing this to you!

But I just…I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

Here is why:

After I slipped outside the office, I heard very quickly Lilah moaning—lovemaking sounds, calling out Castle’s name in absolute ecstasy. Glee. Joy.

Do you see? Do you see, now?

They needed me there. I can’t explain it, but I truly felt like since I had arrived, some of the gloom had been lifted from the house. Spoons would crack jokes to Terrance and Elliot. Lilah kept commenting about how happy she was, and how she wasn’t drinking as much as she used to. And Mister Castle…well, when I saw him at first, you would think a smile would have broken his face in half. But in that office, when he was feeling me up, he was positively glowing.

So I know. I know that I shouldn’t have encouraged such lewd, offensive behavior.

But it wasn’t like we were having sex or anything. They were just…enjoying my body. Feeling me. Dressing me. That wasn’t strictly traditional, but it wasn’t terrible either. And if it made them happier—if some joy had returned to their home as a result—why, wouldn’t I be a terrible person if I didn’t keep it up?

I am sure the astute reader will have some wild theory about me loving all of this, about me needing and craving their attention desperately, the same sort of completely devoted and adoring attention that I had been deprived of my whole life. Here I was, entering a new household with a mother and father and brother type figures, and all of them can’t stop talking about me or complimenting me or calling me their good girl. Oh yes, I’m sure all kinds of wild theories abound in your devious little head.

I’ll have you know I’m rather above all of that, and I resent the implication.

As far as I can resent such things, anyway. I try to avoid resentment. A good girl can’t very well resent things for very long, after all, otherwise I wouldn’t be good for much longer.

I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen. After that little run-in with the boss and his wife, I wanted a little release of my own. I had chocolate in mind. What I got, though, was giving Terrance an eyeful as my breasts nearly popped out of my tiny dress once more.

He was in the kitchen, sitting down over a bowl of soup. His eyes widened as he saw what I had on—no doubt made more sexual by the way my hair was all mussed from my hands slipping through it in my confused lust from the episode in the study, and my nipples still completely erect after Castle’s exciting hands slid all over me.

“Wow,” said Terrance. “You put on all that for me?”

“This?” In my head rush of lust after leaving the study, I had forgotten how ludicrously oversexed I appeared. “No. No, I’m sorry. This was…no. This was what Lilah put me in.”

“She put you in it? You mean she dressed you?”

My pussy jolted heatedly from the memory. “Yes.”

“That’s pretty sexy. Did you like it?”

I crossed my arms under my chest, only dimly aware of how that displayed my tits even more. “That’s none of your business!”

Terrance stood up and came closer.

“I think it is. What else happened? You seem…agitated.”

“Nothing.”

He shook his head. “Something. Tell me.”

There was no way he was going to leave me alone until I told him something. I figured I may as well tell him the truth. I didn’t think this house had many secrets.

“I don’t know…lots of things. Lilah, she…she really enjoyed the way I had dressed for her. And then Mister Castle…”

“Castle too, huh?”

“Yes. He was…he was putting his hands on me.”

“Oh yeah?”

He wasn’t that upset. I was upset that he wasn’t more upset.

“Yes. He was touching me…”

“Where?”

He stood up and came close to me—and then closer. His hands on my hips.

“On my…” It was getting hard to breath for some reason. Hard to think. His hands were like the hands of Castle—thick and strong. But rougher, too. The tips calloused over with hard work. “On my, um…”

He slid his hands on my thighs. “Here?”

I nodded, breasts heaving against my tight blouse.

His hands moved upward. “Here?”

Whimpering now, I nodded, my hands sliding up his body. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to hold me, to tell me it would be all right. I felt so small compared to him, so tiny and breakable.

His hands rested on my panties, pushing up against my clit. “Here?”

Moaning softly, I shook my head. “N-not there. He stopped before…”

I didn’t get to finish. Terrance pulled away, smiling.

“I see. He rather likes you, then.”

“You…” I was so, so hot. “You…why did you stop?”

“Is that what you want? You want me to touch you?”

I shuddered with heat. I didn’t know how to answer. Only seconds before, it was all I wanted. But now that he had pulled away, cold reality began to set in. The refrigerator thrummed on next to me, and I started up, bouncing in fright. My nerves were shot.

“You want me to fuck you? You want to fuck that pretty body of yours?”

Now, I was definitely turned off.

“You’re so crude,” I sneered, walking off to the other end of the room. “Sex is for marriage. Only. Not for…not however you look at it.”

I hated language like that when it came to coupling. All those dirty words: fucking, screwing, hammering, nailing. They were uncouth. I wanted lovemaking to be something special. I wanted candles to be lit, to be waiting for a husband when I came home, wearing something just for him, my legs opened just the right way…

Terrance clearly wanted just furious, animalistic banging and nothing else.

I had to keep thinking about that as he looked at me. Furious. Animalistic. Banging.

God, but he could really do it if he wanted to. He could just take me and I wouldn’t have anything really to say about it…

“What are you looking at me like that for?” he asked. “I thought I was crude.”

I turned away, flushing. “Nothing!”

“Nothing what? Come on. What do you want from me?”

He tried to step near me again, but again I circled away.

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from any of you. But I know all of you want me. You want me to—to—to—”

“—You don’t have to sound so mad about it.”

“Well, I am mad about it! Mister Castle is married, and he wants me for something crude, like you do. I know he wants to be with me, Terrance. In a…in a husbandly way. I don’t know what to do about that.”

“In a husbandly way.” He snorted. “Is that really how you want to put it? He wants to fuck you. Just like I do.”

Terrance wanted me. He wanted to fuck me. I let that information wash over my nerve-wracked mind for a moment.

“A-and that’s not all. It’s…Lilah. She’s the same way, I think. I think she wants me, too.”

“So? Goddamn. Wish I was that lucky. As far as I know, she’s only got eyes for Castle.”

“It’s sick,” I insisted, trying to maintain composure. “They’re supposed to be married. I don’t want to be a part of their weird…sex triumvirate thing.”

Terrance leaned over on the counter. I could see how his thick muscles flexed. His tattoos coursing on his tanned skin.

“Listen, just do what he says. Do what both of them say. How bad could it be? You need the money, and they need the release. You’re not betraying anyone. You’re not with anyone. If you ever get married, later on, you can lie to the person about it. Besides…” he shrugged. “When it comes to Castle, probably he just wants you to suck his cock. And that’s not even really sex.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that. It rang hollow, but at the same time, I could feel the seeds of rationalization sprouting in my mind.

Like I was for another very potent type of seed, it found me rather fertile ground.

“It’s not sex at all.” He stroked my hair now. “And so, if you ever need some practice…you just let me know, girl.”

Over the course of the next several weeks, this routine continued. Lilah would dress me up in the mornings, whenever she was home and not away at one of her increasingly lavish holidays (skiing in the alps, tanning in Hawaii, sight-seeing in China). When Mister Castle was home, he would frequently call me into his office late at night for no real reason—often using me as a fetching service for some small item, most frequently drinks—and then proceed to feel me up. And still, I did not fight it. He even kissed me one night, and though I did not kiss him back, I wanted to desperately.

Often, as Castle finished up, Lilah would suddenly interject herself into our improper situation and take care of her husband’s rising lusts. Stopping him from fucking me by begging him to fuck her.

Literally begging, by the way. I could hear them from outside the door—she worshiped him, it sounded like. Though, I must it it was hard to hear sometimes with my fingers buried so deep in my pussy.

I clung to my morals, like I was in a cartoon and my quickly-becoming-outdated beliefs were the flower on the edge of the cliff. I knew that they wouldn’t last in the face of the hot, perfect drop of my desire…but I would try. Sex wasn’t part of the job unless Castle or Lilah said it was.

Terrance continued to encourage me to stick with it. But he also began to be more aggressive. Kissing me on the back of my neck during our late-night kitchen encounters. Sneaking up behind me and goosing me in the hall. Touching my tits when I had conversations with him. I felt worse and worse about telling him “no” when it was clear how badly I wanted him, wanted the sex he could give me. But for now, I was just their toy, to be used at their leisure.

Something else began happening that was strange. I began a rather late-stage growth spurt. At the age of twenty, I had thought I was beyond such things for the most part. But over the series of weeks since my stay began, my hips became wider, my hair thicker and more voluminous, growing at record rates. And my breasts…

My already large breasts became much, much larger. In less than two weeks, I had increased a cup size. Then in another two weeks, I had grown again. I was easily at a 36E cup now, even though my frame remained as trim and tight as ever.

And there was something else about my breasts. It’s a little hard to say. But they were…well. They had started to fill with milk.

Clearly, I was becoming more fertile. I had no idea why. But I wasn’t against it. I just didn’t understand it.

Because of my increased bust, I had to throw out all of my bras—and all that I had left was the lingerie provided to me by Lilah. More and more, I managed to match her busty, voluptuous frame.

There was no denying my fertility. Lilah commented on it as she continually reformed my outfits.

“I bet you could hold lots of babies,” she said appreciatively, dressing me up in the morning. “Look at you. You’re practically the model of motherhood now, aren’t you? You could hold triplets. Quintuplets. You’d be a natural.”

For whatever reason, the thought of being pregnant, being bred, had really started to turn me on, like hormones were affecting my brain. I started to daydream often about Castle filling me up with his babymaking batter, getting me to be his preggo servant.

But I tried to stifle those feelings.

“It’s just…I don’t get it. I thought I was done with…well. All of this.”

“Nonsense. I went through a similar spurt myself, shortly after marriage. The human body continues to grow well past the age of twenty. I wouldn’t spend another thought on it, dear. You’re just becoming what you were supposed to become.”

If that was true, what I was supposed to become was a boob-lover’s wet dream.

The maid outfits she put me in which were, former to my transformation, somewhat respectable, became downright shameless due to the increased volume of my breasts. I couldn’t even take a breath without becoming a completely whorish display. It didn’t help that Lilah insisted I wear black six-inch platform heels, and stockings with frilly white garters. Her pretense of letting me use her “extra wardrobe” was quickly abandoned, unless of course she had gathered up three-dozen maid outfits for her personal use.

Maybe she had. That was a hot thought.

It was so incredibly hot. I walked around all day with my shaved pussy constantly wet.

Oh yes, I was shaved by that time. Lilah had done it herself one late night over a series of too-many drinks, talking the whole time about how badly she wanted to have an extra taste of what she was grooming. But I kept telling her no…even though my heart was crying out yes.

Late in the day one Wednesday, a returning Mister Castle called me up to his office. I gulped when I heard his request. Being called up to his office usually turned into a long session of being felt up by his strong, sure hands. He was so handsome, I had trouble not cumming just from the way his fingers tweaked my super-sensitive nipples. Because, oh yes, ever since my breasts had gotten bigger, the nipples were more sensitive as well.

It was incredibly hard to be anything for these people except for a sex-hungry cockstarving maid whore.

But I was determined not to let it happen.

As soon as I came in the door, though, his strong arms were around me, and he was hugging me close to his powerful frame. The musky, heady scent from his cock drifted up to my nose, and it got hard to think clearly. I hadn’t had an orgasm in such a long time…

“How do you like this job so far?”

I thought it best to lie, as you might expect.

“I like it very well, Sir. Everyone is very…forthcoming.”

“That’s terrific.” He leaned back on his desk, pulling me forward by my chin. “There’s something I would like you to do for me. Something that would make you a very, very good girl for me.”

Immediately I was interested…and anxious. “Sir?”

“I want you to suck me off.”

Just like that. No sugar-coating.

“S-sir?”

“Lilah mentioned you might be hard of hearing. Is that the case?”

“N-no Sir. It’s just—”

“Then you heard me?”

“Yes, S-sir, I just—”

“Then I expect an answer. Are you going to suck me off?”

“I…I don’t know. I hadn’t been expecting…”

Perhaps a decent woman would have spat in his face, or slapped him, or pushed him, or just stormed off. But his presence was so palpable, his power so overwhelmingly present in the room, that I couldn’t simply shake off the request. I felt, truly, as if someone had handed me briefcase full of drug money. Sure, you knew it might be wrong to take it…but all that money just made you drool.

I was not drooling at the prospect of his cock, but I certainly was close. I can’t describe to you well enough the smell of him, his musk, so strong and masculine and everything that a male was supposed to be. I let the scent of him fill my lungs. I let it fill my whole body.

I wanted to deny him. I knew his wife could come in at any moment, like she almost every evening I was alone with Castle. I felt positive that my shame would be exposed straight to her.

“You don’t have to suck me off.” He put a hand through my thick blond hair. “If you really don’t want to. But you won’t have a job tomorrow if you don’t.”

It was as simple as that, then. All my work meant nothing. All my hard labor in organizing his house. He wanted a fuckpet. A thing. An object to use.

“Y-you can’t just…fire me because…”

He tsked, holding my face. “Don’t be silly, doll. Of course I can. Now, are you going to suck me off, or am I going to have to find a new maid?”

“All right,” I said after a moment. “O-okay.”

It was such sweet, sweet bliss, giving in to him. My heart raced. I kissed his hand, but he withdrew it. I had to earn the privilege, I realized.

“On your knees, then.”

Quickly, I dropped to my knees, and my hands went to his pants.

“Not like that,” he said. “You’ll crawl if you want to suck me off.”

Obediently, then, I shuffled back a bit and crawled forward—but he stopped me.

“From the front of the room. I want to watch you work.”

My pussy was on fire! Stifling my shame, I got up and walked to the front of the room, got down on my hands and knees, and began to crawl forward toward him. His face broke out into a wide grin.

Slowly, I slid up his pants and unzipped them. Before long, I had exposed the treasure there that I had wanted for so very long.

His cock was so big. Really, really big. I didn’t know anything on a man could be so big…and it was just growing bigger, right in front of my eyes. Stiffening, because of me. This powerful, enormous man…and I had this sexy, perfect effect on him.

It was an intoxicating thought.

Slowly, I let my mouth envelope its largeness. It was slow-going at first. I took him in bit by bit, the thick flesh pres into the roof of my mouth and then back, down into my throat. I gagged a bit, but he held me fast, not letting me back up to catch my breath. He seemed to enjoy making my gag—knowing that his cock was so huge that it was barely possible for any woman to take him.

“That’s it,” he said. “Keep going. You’re being an awfully good girl, Claudette.”

I moaned, my pussy twitching at the compliment. God, I loved being called their good girl.

I was enjoying myself so much that my work got rather sloppy. It was my first blowjob, after all. My drool layered down his thick meat, saliva and precum mixing together and landing in my bountiful cleavage. My breaths were so hard, so frequent, that my tits spilled out of my tiny sexy maid’s outfit.

From reading articles on the internet, I had learned that I was supposed to stroke his shaft when I couldn’t get it all in my mouth—so I did that too. He loved it.

“I’m gonna cum right in your throat,” he moaned. “You want that, good girl? You want to taste your Sir’s cum?”

I moaned out that I did. There was no mistaking. I wanted to feel him fill my belly up. He pushed my hands away and started fucking my mouth wholesale—fucking my face like he owned it.

He did own it.

Fucking my mouth like it was his own personal pussy, like I was nothing but an object created to suck him off.

As far as I knew, at that moment, I was.

Groaning, he exploded down my throat, layering the thick piles of goo straight into my stomach. He spasmed and shuddered, sending down more and more of the salty, delicious substance in my mouth and into my tummy.

I slid off his cock, obediently cleaning him off. He didn’t even have to threaten me with my job. I wanted to taste him.

“Good girl,” he said with a sigh, clutching at my thick hair. “What a good girl.”

Over the next week, Mister Castle came in and out, in more ways than one.

He continued his busy schedule of traveling for business, but whenever he was home, he made special time to have me on my knees before him. I didn’t even bother asking him if it was what he wanted after the first couple of sessions. When he got home, I simply waited in his office, under his desk, on my knees, fingering my pussy helplessly.

Whatever was making my boobs get bigger and my hips wider was making me hornier as well. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about much at all anymore except looking hot for Castle and having super-awesome blowjob sessions.

Terrance continued to be aggressive, although he seemed very surprised, one afternoon, when I dropped to my knees after he grabbed one super-sensitive tit. I ripped down his pants, blabbing coarsely about how I needed to practice for Mister Castle.

He pushed me into the pantry and fucked me in the corner. I wasn’t even on my knees—just a heap in the corner while Terrance fucked my eager, willing mouth. My good girl mouth.

I was made to do this, I thought again and again, thumbing my clit. Made to serve.

After that, Terrance took regular advantage of me. He knew what to say, now—that I wasn’t a good girl unless I was putting in practice for Castle.

One day in the pantry, after I finished obediently cleaning his cock, he made me an offer.

“We could fuck, you know.”

He let me think about it. I had to. I knew there were reasons against it, but they were so hard to grasp lately. His cum was so fucking yummy, and I was clearly made for fucking, and…

Oh right. Marriage. We weren’t married.

“Um…it’s just…like, we have to get…married, right? So I can’t.”

“We don’t have to be married. I’ll just take my dick, stick it in your cunt, and we’ll be fucking. That’s how it works.”

After a moment, I nodded. That made tons of sense.

“But…you’ll use a condom, right? I’m worried about…Lilah, she keeps telling me I’m so fertile.”

“A condom?” He scoffed. “No way.”

“Then…we can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You know…a good girl would fuck me.”

“N-no. Terrance. Come on. Don’t do that.”

“It’s true, Claudette. Good girls don’t care whether a man has a condom on or not.”

Somehow, I continued to resist…and he didn’t push it. It was like he was just trying to get me used to the idea of being fucked bareback.

Lilah continued to have me in every morning, dressing me. Still landing opportune kisses whenever she wanted. I fought less and less, protested less and less.

Enjoyed myself more and more.

One night, she invited me up for a nightcap. The weather was turning cold, but the house was nice and toasty, despite its size. It possessed a state-of-the-art central air and heating system. Going to Lilah’s room for a nightcap become a sort of regular habit, the two of us getting a little bit tipsy and flirty before bed. Of course, she dressed me up first. Putting me in lingerie or nighties.

Lilah was already quite liquidated, if you know what I mean. I’d hardly seen her more drunk than she was that night. When I walked in, she was already falling all over the bed, giggling delightedly.

“Look who decided to show!” she laughed. “What a good girl.”

That particular night, she wanted us to match, and so after some time in her closet, we did. My enormously busty body was decked out in tight yellow lingerie—a lace corset, thigh-high stockings, and sexy yellow platform sandals. Lilah dressed in the exact same outfit. Our tits spilled out of it—the outfits were made, apparently, for someone who was a little less busty than the two of us. Lilah could have fixed it, of course, but that wouldn’t have been very fun, would it?

“Could you imagine what Mister Castle of the house would do, coming in and seeing his two women dressed like this?” She squeezed her nipples, biting one lip. “He’d positively cream himself.”

I felt my pussy hop at the idea. If he came in and ordered me to, I’d gladly suck him off with Lilah watching. Or with Lilah helping. It wouldn’t really be cheating if she was helping. Besides, blowjobs weren’t real sex anyway. That’s why I could do them for Mister Castle whenever he wanted.

“Yes,” I said, sipping at my brandy. “He totally would, you’re right.”

There was one difference between my outfit and hers—gloves. She wore hot elbow-length yellow opera gloves. They felt amazing, so soft on my tits as she tugged and pulled gently at my outfit.

“You look so. Fucking. Hot. In this, Claudette. You really, really do.”

Her lips slid up to my neck. Stoically, I allowed her to, my cunt squirming.

My one rule left was that I wouldn’t partake in any affection, any delivering of any sort of kissing or touching, unless I was explicitly told to do so. But she was making it very, very hard to follow this rule of mine.

I think she could sense it, to tell you the truth. I think she was trying to play a game of erotic chicken with me

“You shall do something for me,” she whispered in my ear.

“Yes, ma’am?”

I was a little drunk at this point. Her lingerie felt so good, so light. Every movement was so ed. My breasts looked fantastic—at this point I was happily calling them my tits.

My big tits. My huge tits. My big man-pleasing titties. My lady-melting boobies. They were just fucking great.

She ran her fingers up my body, iring me openly.

“I want you,” she said, “to lick my pussy.”

There were many ways to interpret this. But of course the way I did was that it was a direct order from my employer, and that if I refused, I would no longer have the job that I needed.

So of course, I had to give in, and said, “Yes. Oh, god, yes!”

I sank to my knees and tore her panties off.

The area around her pussy was shaved and waxed. It looked almost shiny. I sank my head into it gleefully. Very soon, my tongue was slipping up through the velvety folds of her labia, swallowing her sweet, tangy juices.

“That’s right,” Lilah moaned. “That’s so good. Keep going.”

Obedient and servile, I continued my practice. I had been reading up on the internet, just as I had with blowjobs, in preparation. Tongue searching from one end to the next, I finally found the nub of her clit. All my attention focused on that from then on, licking softly, driving Lilah crazy. “Oh my god,” she moaned.

“Oh, good girl! Oh, my good girl!”

I licked harder. My tongue swirled around her clit in small circles. She seemed to like that most of all. Again and again I spiraled around her clit, just as my morals were spiraling down, just as my will was spiraling away, just as all my lust was spiraling upward and upward. Beneath me, Lilah was making more and more excited squeaks.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna—I’m gonna cummm—”

Hips twisting upward, my tongue licking furiously, she came, her legs squeezing hard on my head.

“Oh my,” she moaned, stroking my hair. “What a good, good girl you are. I’m just going to have to show you how good I can be, too.”

I didn’t understand at first…and then she pushed me back on the huge bed and dropped between my legs.

She showed me, all right.

The night I first licked Lilah and she licked me, I slept in her bed. When I woke up in the morning, she had already laid out a new outfit for me.

She was, despite her drinking, an early riser, and had already showered. Only a small towel covered her lovely, tanned body when she kissed me awake.

“Oh,” I shook my head. “I wish you had gotten me up. I would have…”

I was about to say how I would have gladly cleaned Lilah myself. Rubbed our soapy, wet bodies together, maybe let her corner me in the shower once more and have her order me to lick her again. But that was too much of an allowance—it would have definitely been breaking my rule.

“Would have what?” she asked, smiling.

There could be no doubt, she knew exactly what was on my mind.

I shook my head, though. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

“You can use my shower,” she slipped on the bed, kissing me again until I was more awake. “I don’t want you to have to leave and then come back, all right?”

Of course I obeyed. Twenty minutes later, I was out of the shower and drying myself off. Lilah was in front of her enormous wardrobe, brushing her hair, iring her own reflection. I ired it as well, my fingers floating down to my cunt as I looked at her.

I don’t know that I had ever been in love with anyone. But I was dangerously close to being in love with Lilah.

And so I felt bad. I had this terrible secret—I had been sucking her husband off. I had been swallowing his cum every single night that I could, and she had no idea. It was awful of me. I had to fix it.

“Lilah,” I began, fingering the towel around my body, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

She turned, smiling. Her brilliantly sexy body was naked underneath her robe. “What is it, dear?”

“It’s a bit hard for me to say, actually. I’m not sure where to begin.”

Smiling still, she took my hands in hers. “You can tell me anything, dear. No judgments here.”

“Well, it’s just…” I swallowed, my eyes low. “Your husband and I…we’ve been…I mean to say…”

“Yes?”

Her smile had turned predatory again. Immediately I knew something was off, but I still couldn’t stop my confession now.

“He’s been fucking my…I mean. I’ve been sucking his…you know. Blowjobs. Lots of them. Whenever he’s home. Whenever he wants. However he wants.”

“You’ve been sucking the big, beautiful cock of my husband, is that what you’re saying?”

I nodded, almost crying with the guilt filling me up.

She tsked and shook her head, standing up and sliding her arms over my shoulders. “Oh my. You still don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

Lilah kissed the top of my head then, quite affectionately.

“Such a dear, sweet soul. You’re completely without guile, did you know that?”

I thought, at the time, that she probably wouldn’t say that if she knew what I had been up to with Terrance and all that practice for Mister Castle. But I kept my mouth shut.

“That’s what I like about you,” she purred to me, stroking my hair, slipping her hand down to my wet pussy. My whole body was wet, still, from the shower. My towel dropped, and she pushed me hard against the wall. “Everything, really. But also how sweet you are. You’re such a good, good girl for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? Aren’t you my good little girl?”

I whimpered, thighs squeezing against her hands. This had turned so suddenly. Usually, all my sexual experiences had been in the evenings, or at the very least the late afternoon with Terrance. I had time to fantasize all day and ramp up. This was happening quite fast, though…and I had no idea what to do except to let it happen.

“Yes, ma’am…your good girl.”

She kissed my neck. “That’s right. My good girl. You’re going to do just what I want, aren’t you?”

I nodded again. I expected her to tell me to stop fucking Mister Castle…but of course I was wrong.

“Good. I want you to fuck my husband, dear. I want you to let him drill you senseless. It’s obvious how he wants to. You’re going to have him fill up that fertile young body of yours. You’re going to let him get you nice and pregnant for me. Won’t you?”

Her fingers ran in and out of my cunt, unceasing. I couldn’t think straight. Her thumb slid easy against my little clit. All I knew was that I needed to cum. She was talking so much about how fertile I was, how sexy it would be if I was pregnant, how good it would be if Mister Castle got me all filled up with babies…

“If I get you to fuck him…if you take his seed, then I get to return to his bed, at last.” She let out a guttural moan of need. “He’s come and taken his privileges with me, of course, but he hasn’t allowed me to circle around his body in my sleep like I used to, taking his cock like a pacifier while I rested. He hasn’t let me suck him off while he’s at business meetings, or clean his cock in the mornings. I need my wifely duties back, Claudette. You’re going to help me.”

My orgasm was beginning to mount. “Oh my god, Lilah!”

“I want you to fuck my husband,” she moaned, finger fucking me harder and harder. “I want it so, so bad…”

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh god…”

“He deserves you, do you understand? He’s such a fucking stud. He fucks me every night. When he’s done fucking your pretty little whore mouth? He comes into my room and fucks. Me. Silly. And then he picks out whatever outfits he wants to see you in…or tells me a color scheme to work out for you, that sort of thing.”

It had been his plan all along. All this time, I thought Lilah was the one pulling so many strings on her own…but she was as much his puppet as I was his.

“You see, I can’t have his babies. I’m not enough of a woman.” She sighed. “I just…wasn’t born with the right equipment. We’re trying lots and lots of fertility treatments, so maybe it’ll work out eventually…but for now? For now…you’re our best hope.”

“I’m…I’m what?”

It was so hard to think, her fingers so blissfully hot in my cunt. I know she had said it before, but I thought I was imagining it. Surely, she didn’t really want me to have her husband’s babies, did she?

She did.

“I want you to have his babies, sweetie. Twins, maybe. Triplets? That would be so cool.” Her fingers were pushing into my cunt harder as she imagined my belly getting bigger. “I want to raise them. I want you to give him children…and me, too. Won’t you do that for me? Won’t you give me your little darlings? Won’t you get nice and pregnant from my Sir’s cum?”

“Mmmph…”

I was going to cum so, so soon.

“He’ll fill you up so, so good, baby. And we can afford lots and lots of babies. We could just keep making you more and more pregnant, if you like…and with all those fertility drugs I’ve been slipping in your drinks and your food to make you more attractive and pliable, I’m sure you’re going to give us a whole litter.”

Fertility drugs? Oh shit.

My breasts, of course. And the way my hips had been expanding…the way my body had become slowly more sexualized as I served. How eager and compliant I had become. It all made sense now.

They had taken complete control over my whole life. Even my body.

Unable to cope anymore with how completely turned on I was, I came hard. My tight, busty body pushed hard against Lilah’s, and I couldn’t do anything except feel wave after wave of rapture as she cooed into my ears about how perfect and wonderful it would be for me to carry her husband’s seed. I bit her shoulder, cumming so hard, and held myself up by grasping her beautiful big tits.

Eventually, the bliss wore down. My thoughts began to clear, even as Lilah began to finger her own cunt next to me, lost in her little baby-fueled fantasy.

“So pregnant,” she moaned, looking at my naked body. “We’ll make you so, so pregnant…”

I slipped away, ignoring Lilah’s voice. Completely naked, I grabbed the clothes Lilah had laid out for me. Even in my rebellion, I was obedient. This should tell you quite a bit about how serious I was about denying them what they wanted.

I didn’t know what else to do. I put on what Lilah had chosen for the day—or what Mister Castle had, I suppose—and then started cleaning.

I was so very obedient, by then, so very used to doing everything they said. I don’t know that I understood that I could have just driven away. Castle probably would have paid me the money he owed me—no, he definitely would have. He was a man of his word.

But instead, dressed in tight white lingerie and sexy red heels, I walked around the east wing with a feather duster, doing everything I could not to bury my fingers into my hot cunt and cum all day long, thinking about Castle filling me up with his brood.

Oh yes, I was wearing tight white lingerie. That was the outfit Lilah had chosen for me. How could I not wear it?

Terrance found me in a small sitting room as I was bent forward on a chair, letting the top of its arm slide up into my crotch. It pressed so, so hard into my clit. And I thought about my body filling, swelling, getting new curves as his seed filled me.

“I heard about the trouble you were having, babe.”

“You did?”

I didn’t even get off the chair. I just turned my head, bright red lips making a little “O” of surprise at his presence.

“Sure I did. Lilah told me all about it.” He wrapped his hands around my tiny waist, apparently enjoying the way that my body was covered in lace.

“And you’re not…you’re not mad with me?”

“Of course not.”

“But it’s…you said you wanted to fuck me…”

“I do. You’re hot as hell. God, look at you. You don’t even know how hot you look, do you?”

“I…I am?” I shook my head slowly. Blond locks cascaded around my tits. “You do? But…”

“Listen, Castle is the boss. He pays me well. I do what he wants. And what he wants is to fuck you. So yeah, I want him to fuck you, Claudette.”

“W-what?”

“You should let him fuck you. Let him fill you up and get you pregnant. Then I’ll be able to fuck you as much as I want, and I won’t get you pregnant. Get it?”

“No…”

I tried slipping off the chair, but Terrance held me firm. All the pressure on my clit was fogging my thoughts.

“You were so worried about having sex with me because I won’t use protection. Well…if he gets you pregnant, then you won’t have to worry about me getting you pregnant until we want a baby of our own.”

“You…you’re that serious about me?”

I couldn’t help but feel flattered. I thought in his mind, we were just fooling around. But if he really wanted me like he was describing…

“Of course I’m serious about you. You think I let just any girl get fucked by my boss?”

He looked so sincere. But, just as I almost assented, I caught my reflection in the window.

Dolled up. Whored up. Tits everywhere.

Good lord, I thought this was decent?

I felt like I had been put under some kind of…some kind of spell. Like all their combined lust for me had put a mist on top of my brain.

Needless to say, regardless of how sincere Terrence seemed to be, all of a sudden, I wasn’t convinced. After all this, my head was really starting to clear from the fog of all the lust and booze and sex and babymaking madness.

I needed to get out of there.

“I…I’m sorry, Terrance. I just…I don’t think I can handle all this. I think I’m just going to take my money and go. I’ve got enough to pay for a few semesters, and that’s enough. I just…yes. I’m going to go.”

Quietly, he stepped over to the door of the sitting room and closed it. Then, with a key from his pocket, he locked the door.

“I’m sorry to hear you say that, Claudette.”

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I really, really want to fuck you how I want to fuck you, Claudette. But Mr. Castle is the boss. So he’s going to fuck you first.” He shrugged. “And while he does…I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

“No!” I screamed—though my body was screaming the exact opposite. “You can’t! I won’t let you—”

Terrance took me by the throat and slammed me down to the ground. The air swept out from my lungs.

“You’re going to be our good girl,” he growled.

Soon, my tiny outfit was ripped apart by his big hands. His hands roamed all over my curvaceous body, feeling me up at his leisure.

I wanted so badly to resist. Or rather, I wanted to want to resist. But his hands felt so good, so right, and it was so hot how he had just manhandled me and shown me my place…

All those skimpy, sexy outfits I wore—hell, the one I was wearing now. All those hot fishnets and little skirts. The cleavage-baring dresses and the sexy games of lingerie dress-up with Lilah—Terrance wasn’t going to be content just watching anymore.

But…but I had to save myself for marriage. I wanted to badly to be a good girl, a proper girl, even though everything about me looked like I was built for fertility and sex.

“I’m going to give it all to you, good girl,” he grunted, yanking my hair hard.

My panties were soaked with lust, torn from his rough grasping. But still…I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t resist. I slipped out from his grasp and pushed him to the ground. He stumbled down with a groan, banging his knees and head.

I turned and ran—but he had locked the door! Scrambling, I yelled and pulled at the door. Surely, someone would hear me. Terrance came after me again—and I kicked him away, tugging hard at the door.

Finally it opened—I was saved! I rushed out, and straight into the strong, sure arms of Castle himself.

“Oh, thank you!” I was breathing hard, my heavy, naked tits crushed up against his broad chest. “Thank you, thank you!”

In my relief, I hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t said anything. I hadn’t noticed that he was completely naked, either, his enormously strong body completely ripped and stacked with concrete-like slabs of incredible musculature. And only dimly, after several moments, did I notice that his hands were pushing up my wet thighs and up toward my torn, soaking panties.

I looked up, terrified…and saw that he was grinning. He’s the devil, I thought. The devil himself. I was completely in his grasp.

And it had me more turned on than I could have ever imagined.

There was still some resistance left in me, no matter how loud my submissive side cooed and moaned about how perfect and right this was.

I tried to back away—but I ran directly into Terrance, who pushed me down onto my knees before Castle. His enormous manhood was displayed before me. I could feel Terrance growing hard against the back of his head, massaging his cock with the silky smooth locks of my blond hair.

There was nothing I could do. There was nowhere I could run.

They were going to take me no matter what I said.

From behind Castle came Lilah, decked out again in gorgeous black lingerie and tall high-heeled leather boots. She stared up at Castle with reverence, like he was her God. The gloves on her hands trailed up past her elbows as she hooked her arms around one bicep and stroked his cock happily, milking him, keeping him hard.

For me. She was keeping him hard for me.

All three of them. I never stood a chance. They were going to change me, fuck me, and breed me no matter what I said.

And these two huge strong men…both of them stood over me now. Both of them dominated me. Their cocks on either side of my head.

“Please…” I moaned.

I didn’t know what I was pleading for.

Luckily, they didn’t stop to ask me. Castle bent me over, pushing my face toward Terrance. Almost right away, my mouth instinctively slipped over Terrance’s cock, just as it had a hundred times before.

I was so very, very good at sucking his cock. It was almost like instinct, now. My lips slipped over the head and I swallowed, creating more suction just for him.

Terrence was very happy with this. “God, that’s so good, Claudette!”

At the same time, Castle plunged into me from behind. His cock was enormous. He found my entrance wet, willing—waiting. In no time, he had ruined the paltry barrier of my virginity, and quickly began thrusting in and out at his leisure. The pleasure was total.

Lilah had taken to fingering her cunt while she pushed her body against Castle’s. Her hands pressed hard against his hips as he thrust inside me, urging him to fuck me ever harder and harder.

“You deserve this, Sir,” she moaned. “You deserve it. Fuck her, husband! Please, fuck her! Fill her up! Get her pregnant!”

“Yeah,” Castle grunted. “I’m going to pile my seed inside her. She’s gonna be filled with my fucking babies. Aren’t you, good girl?”

Pulling my hair, he fucked me harder and harder. Internally, I agreed with everything they said. I wanted to be filled up. I wanted to suck more cock, and have more babies, and do everything they asked. I wanted all of it. I wanted to be their filthy fuckslut whore forever.

“I’m gonna cum,” Terrence moaned. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum right in her mouth.”

His pumps increased in frequency, and so did Castle’s. As Castle thrust into me, I was fucked harder into Terrance’s cock. As Terrance fucked back, I was pushed harder into Castle’s cock. They pistoned me like this in almost perfect rhythm. My orgasm built and built, unstoppable.

As if by some mutual, mass orgasmic hysteria, we all came at once. Tugging and grasping at my hair and tits, Terrence poured his load into my mouth as he had countless times before, and just like all those other times, it was magical, feeling it fill my stomach up with its instant warmth.

Lilah, knowing all the signals of her husband’s orgasm, timed her own to match his, and shuddered against him, calling out his name in bouts of worshipful praise as her bliss overtook her senses.

“Cum in her, Sir! Cum in our good girl!”

Just as his wife begged him to do, Castle came into my fertile, needy womb, knowing just how to fill me. There was so much of his huge load, so much potent, perfect sperm shot into my needy pussy, that there could be no doubt in my mind. I was pregnant, immediately, just like a good girl ought to be. His cock and his load were too fucking powerful not to impregnate me right away.

We all collapsed onto the ground. Then, slowly, I turned and began to clean Castle’s cock. After him, I would attend to Terrance.

I was the maid, after all. I had to keep things tidy.

My name is Claudette. I am a good girl maid. I follow my routine.

Every morning, I attend to the Master bedroom, where Lilah dresses me. If Mister Castle is home, then both of us suck his magnificent cock. He usually cums in Lilah’s mouth, as is her right.

From then until the evening, I am cleaning and serving, dusting and delivering drinks.

Just before dinner, Terrance usually corners me and fucks my mouth. Sometimes I cry when he does it, but only because I’m so happy. Also, because he thinks it’s sort of hot how my make-up will run, and how being fucked in the mouth makes me cry with joy. He’s sort of vicious in that way. I love that about him. One day, he promises, he’ll marry me. But only when I’m done being bred by Mister Castle.

In the late evening, I serve at the pleasure of Mister Castle. He fucks me senseless. He loves how big my pregnant tits have gotten. They leak milk constantly, so ready to be used by his progeny. If he is not home, then I serve at the pleasure of Lilah. She dresses me up—but no more drinks. We hardly need them anymore, after all.

I am more than delighted to serve either. Any of them. I’m a good girl. A good girl serves at the pleasure of the household.

I’m so very pregnant, now. The fertility drugs really worked wonders on me. Just as Lilah hoped, I’m going to have triplets. Still, I do all my cleaning, and I do it in my high heels and lingerie. That’s what good girls do, after all. We must obey. We must serve. We must do whatever is asked of us.

Icing on the cake—the fertility treatments finally came through for Lilah. She’s going to have twins! We’re going to be mommies together! I’m so excited.

But mostly, I’m just so excited that I get to be Castle’s girl. I don’t even care about money anymore. He takes care of all of that for me. Soon, he says, I’ll be too pregnant to be the maid, and he’ll have to hire a new one.

The experiment with me worked out so well, he said, that he was even considering getting another sexy girl like me to use in exactly the same way. He wanted me to help him seduce the new girl, just like Lilah had helped with me. He could get her pregnant just like how he had done to me. There could be so many good girls in the world, just for Castle.

I told him that sounded perfect.

For now, though, Castle’s legacy is inside of me…and I can’t wait to deliver.