The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

You know the drill: If you are underage, or if explicit sexual fantasy offends you, stop reading now. This story is fantasy, and the characters, locations, and situations are all imaginary. The activities described in it are not possible in the real world, and the behaviors in it are emphatically not to be imitated by real people. In reality, nonconsensual sex is a crime, promiscuity is dangerous, and young women are deserving of respect, equality, and consideration. Even if they do work for the IRS.

This story is my intellectual property. It may be reproduced for your own pleasure, but do not charge for it or post it on any web site that charges for the privilege of reading it.

No-nonsense tax inspector Pamela Harnet is out to nail Alice’s man about his tax return...and she gets nailed in return.

Alice Through the Lusting Glass

by Captain Eazy


Pamela Harnet glanced down at the map she had printed from the office computer. There should be a right turn somewhere around here. Or had she passed it?

She made a throaty growl of irritation. The car she had checked out from the office garage, a dependable but not exciting Ford Taurus, rolled through a virtual tunnel of trees, ancient oaks so tall that their burgeoning tops met over the two-lane blacktop, making it the floor of a long green tunnel. A grassy verge followed the line of trees, and in the distance more trees, a forest in fact, cut off the scenery. She might have missed the turn, or it might still be ahead. Pamela had let herself get distracted in the last town, had not kept track of the mileage...damn. She knew one thing for certain: Mr. Drax James Sinclair was going to suffer. She would see to that.

A patch of sunlight ahead made her slow, luckily enough. There was the turn, my God, a brick-paved road? Pamela made the sharp right. Jesus, was this a county road? Paved with bricks? What kind of imbeciles lived this far out in the country? And how could one of them be as rich as this—this Drax James Sinclair appeared to be on paper? In phosphors, rather. The income tax return Pamela was investigating had been submitted electronically.

She had to slow to thirty to maneuver the car through the curves of the one-lane brick road. Flashes of sun made their way through the canopy that still overarched the way. Pamela put a hand up to adjust the dark sunglasses that shielded her brown eyes and frowned. Nail the son of a bitch, she told herself. Teach him a lesson, making her come this far out to find him.

The trees ended abruptly as the road topped a rise, and like something from a fairy tale, a palace spread out before her, small in the distance but occupying the whole crest of the next long hill. Pamela braked and stared.

Hell, maybe this Sinclair fellow was that rich! The brick house sprawled in the sunlight, three stories tall, turreted and columned, a Queen Anne palace out here in the middle of nowhere. It would have to have cost in the millions—and it had been built, Pamela happened to know, within the last three years. Grinning a little, like a shark scenting blood, Pamela decided she was going to put the financial screws to this Drax J. Sinclair. Oh, yes, this was going to be fun.

The road curved down the hill, then crossed a picturesque lake on a nine-arched causeway of brick. What the hell, did this guy own a brick factory? Something about this made Pamela feel that she was going to see...what was it? A wizard.

“Follow the red brick road,” she muttered to herself. “And follow the money. And take it away from this rich schmuck bastard.” The road climbed again, took a long graceful sweeping curve as it leveled out, and led to a broad plaza in front of the house, brick-paved, of course, and featuring a fountain with marble statuary. Nymphs lounging around some kind of standing sea-god on an island pluming rainbow-shattered water. Neptune or somebody—Pamela jammed her foot on the brake, stopping with a screech and a lurch—somebody very well...hung! One of the nymphs was slyly stretching up her right hand to stroke a very impressive stone erection, while her left arm twined itself around the statue’s left leg. The nymph on the other side was staring at the god’s cock and swollen balls in admiration, God, while fingering herself? It sure looked as if she had two fingers on her clit!

Pamela felt her face turning red. A rich decadent schmuck bastard! The man was asking for it!

She switched off the engine, climbed out of the car into a warm August afternoon, and reached into the back seat for her calfskin briefcase. She heard a sound off to the left, at the side of the mansion, more water running. Another dirty statue? Disgusting thought. Well, it couldn’t hurt just to look.

Pamela tugged her severe but rumpled navy-blue business suit into some semblance of order. Her auburn hair was clipped short in a no-nonsense, low-maintenance cut, and she wore the minimum of makeup, just a little lipstick and a touch of eyebrow pencil. She was attractive enough, but at twenty-nine, she was determined to climb her way up the government ladder, and be damned to any petty distinctions like sex—


She had turned the corner. Not another fountain at all, but a—well, a living nymph. A living and nearly naked nymph! A strawberry blonde with her long hair tied back in a ponytail was washing a silver Porsche. The elastic that held her ponytail probably had more material in it than the thong she was wearing. She wore no top at all, and her luscious breasts, a couple of sizes larger than Pamela’s modest 34B bust, swung and bounced and gleamed with water. God, she was bronze! She looked like some sort of goddess for sure—

“Oh, hi,” the girl said, flashing Pamela a big white smile. “Are you looking for someone?”

A clump of suds clung to the top curve of the girl’s left breast. It slipped down over the gleaming skin and came to rest atop her brownish-pink nipple. With a casual flick of her hand, the girl turned her hose on herself and washed it off. Rivulets ran down her flat belly, droplets sprinkled down from her nipples.

“Ah, uh, Mr.—Mr. Sinclair is who I was...who are you? His wife?”

The girl laughed. “Oh, my, no! I’m the chauffeur! My name’s Dottie. Dottie Cameron. I’m not sure if Mr. Sinclair is in right now, but Alice is. She can help you. Just ring the door.”

“Alice? And who’s Alice?”

“She’s the mistress of the house,” Dottie said. “Hot, isn’t it?” With a teasing smile, she turned the nozzle of the hose down and with the thumb of her left hand, she tugged the front of her thong, as much as it had a front. She directed the stream of water down against her pubis and arched her back, making her breasts stand out even more. “Mmm, feels good. Alice can help you, Ma’am. Just go around and ring the doorbell.”

“Uh...yes.” Pamela turned on her sensible flat heel and strode away, blushing. Mistress of the house, was it? Last year’s income tax return had not indicated that Mr. Sinclair was married. Very interesting. Maybe another reason to screw him—put the screws to him, she corrected herself.

Pamela climbed six steps to a round porch and pressed her thumb against the doorbell button. Faintly from somewhere inside she heard a vaguely familiar classic tune, Brahms or Bach or someone like that. Damn doorbell probably cost as much as her apartment rent for three months.

Impatiently, she rang again, and then she heard a clear voice calling, “I’m coming!”

A moment later the door opened. “Yes?”

Oh, God, another one. Well, this one, a blonde with the deepest blue eyes Pamela had ever seen, was at least decently covered in a white terrycloth robe. “I’m Pam Harnet,” Pamela told her crisply. “I’m with the I.R.S. and I have an appointment with Mr. Sinclar.”

“Oh, certainly. Do come in,” the blonde said—damn, she was drop-dead gorgeous, how did she get so brown? And her breasts looked even fuller than the strawberry Dottie’s. She led the way through the foyer, walking barefoot over lush, deep maroon carpeting, and into a sunny parlor. “Have a seat,” she said, indicating an overstuffed wing armchair that looked as if it wanted to perform a carnal act on her.

But Pamela sank into it, marveling at how softly yielding, how comfortable, how enclosing it was. The blonde curled up on a love seat, tucking her feet under her bottom, showing her cute round knees and leaning her head casually on her right hand. Her fingers toyed with an errant strand of her long blonde hair, twirling it round and around. “My name’s Alice,” she said. “I’m afraid D.J. isn’t home yet. I’m expecting him soon, though, so if you’ll be patient enough to wait with me, it won’t be very long. May I offer you something? Coffee? Tea?”

“Nothing, thank you,” snapped Pamela, feeling unreasonably irritated. This little piece of ass couldn’t be more than twenty or twenty-one. Found herself a rich man, had she? Some women had to work for a living, not spread their legs and get fucked with a roll of hundred dollar bills—

Alice had said something, but Pamela’s irritation had caused her to miss it. “I’m sorry?”

With a smile, Alice said, “Nothing, really. I was just apologizing for being so slow to answer the doorbell. I was out back by the pool.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t have to wait long. Your, ah, your chauffeur told me you were in.”

“Dottie,” Alice said, nodding. “D.J. and I were so lucky to find her. Do you know she was a race-car driver? A pretty good one, too, though she’d had a run of hard luck. She’s incredible behind the wheel, though.”

“She looked rather incredible,” Pamela said dryly.

Alice chuckled. “She doesn’t burden herself with clothing, if that’s what you mean. Not when she’s washing the Porsche. She loves that car. I think she fantasizes about having sex with it!”

“I hope she doesn’t drive in that...state.”

“No, of course not. She wears a uniform when she drives us.”

“But she’s not driving Mr. Sinclair at the moment?”

“Oh, no, he’s got the Mercedes. He doesn’t always use Dottie, you know. A man likes to keep a little independence.”

“I see,” Pamela said coldly.

“Here he comes,” Alice said with a melting smile as she cocked her head to one side. “See, I told you he wouldn’t be long!”

Pamela tilted her head, puzzled. “How do you know he’s coming?”

“Can’t you hear the car?”

“I can’t hear anything.”

“He’s just turned onto the brick drive. He’ll be here in five minutes.”

“You couldn’t possibly hear anything from that distance!”

“I have exceptionally good ears,” Alice said complacently. “Listen very carefully.”

The soft sigh of the air conditioner, a few muffled birdsongs from the other side of the tall, arched windows, the liquid hiss of the fountain, visible through the windows...what a cock that Neptune statue had, might have been a god of fertility or some damn thing, and the wanton nymph was actually touching it, her fingers lightly, teasingly brushing the curved shaft as the little minx smirked, practically licking her lips...

Then Pamela heard it, too, the sound of a car. She saw a charcoal-gray Mercedes crossing the bridge, heard it climb the hill, saw it come to rest in front of her car. A black-haired man of thirty or a little younger, slim and tall, with chiseled good looks, climbed out, and the nearly naked Dottie walked toward him, boobs bouncing with every step, and said something to him. He nodded, handed her the keys, and gave her a quick peck of a kiss. Dottie got her barely-covered ass into the Mercedes and drove the car away as the man trotted up the steps. Pamela heard the front door open and close, and a man’s resonant, sexy voice: “Darling?”

“In here, my love,” Alice called. She stretched like a cat and rose from her perch on the loveseat. She met the man in the doorway. “Hello, darling. You have a visitor.”

“So I see.” But the man bent to kiss Alice, full on the lips and lingeringly, and a shocked Pamela saw the woman, the slut, lazily stroke her hand over the front of the man’s immaculate trousers, caressing his—his thing!

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Alice said. She looked over her shoulder at Pamela and winked one of those striking blue eyes.

The man patted her bottom as she pranced out of the room, then walked toward Pamela with a smile. “Sorry I was late. I let the time get away from me. You will be Miss Harnet?”

“Ms Harnet,” Pamela corrected automatically. She did not hold out her hand. She emphatically did not want to touch Mr. Sinclair. Not after he’d put his hand on that woman’s ass, covered though it was in white terrycloth!

“Ms Harnet, sorry,” the man said, sinking into an armchair across from her, the twin to the one that embraced her so cozily. “I’m D.J. Sinclair, and I am at your service. Is there some problem?”

Screw him. Put the screws to him. Whatever. She snapped open her briefcase. “I have some questions about your tax return,” she said.

Funny, he was smiling. Most of them were sweating at this point, but this son of a bitch was smiling. “I shall try to answer them,” he said. “But wouldn’t you be more comfortable without the sunglasses?”

“Oh!” Pamela reached up and tugged them off. This damn place had her so off-balance—

“Lovely brown eyes you have,” he murmured. “Very lovely indeed.”

Screw you, buddy. All business, that was the approach. “Some very serious questions,” she said firmly, taking papers from her briefcase.


Her head was pounding. “So the capital gains you show here are only for the last quarter,” she said. Her eyes felt as if sand had been blown in them, and she somehow had turned a perfectly beautiful Queen Anne walnut table into a clutter of papers, records, and quickly-scratched notes.

D.J. leaned back in a chair across from her, arms crossed. He had changed from his jacket, white shirt, and slacks into a black mock-turtleneck shirt and jeans, and he gazed at her with midnight-blue eyes. “That’s correct,” he said.

Pamela punched some keys on her computer and grunted at the display. “That...checks out. Your return was very complicated, Mr. Sinclair. But I have to admit, it looks as if it’s all in shape. I must have made the mistake myself when I first reviewed the return.”

“Mistakes happen,” he said. He checked his watch. “It’s past seven. Surely you must be hungry.”

“Mm, yes,” she muttered. Past seven? Damn! She had a two-hour drive back to the town and the hotel. She’d be a zombie in the morning.

“Then stay and have some dinner. Alice and I will be more than happy to have you, and we can spare you a bedroom for the night.” He smiled. “This is a rather large place for just us and Dottie, you see.”

“You must be planning a large family,” Pamela said dryly as she began to scoop up papers and tap them into some sort of more or less neat stack.

“Well, perhaps eventually,” D.J. said. “Do you need help, or—?”

“No, no, I’ve got it,” she snapped.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Be back in a moment.”

Pamela cursed herself as she crammed and jammed the papers into her briefcase. Damn it, they’d fit before! She’d been sure that this multi-millionaire had fouled up on his tax return—hell, he’d done it himself, hadn’t even hired a crack team of CPA’s! But he’d dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s. Shit, shit, shit! His would have been a great head to hang on her office wall.

But at least she had started to understand a few things. D.J. had been raised in Canada, not the U.S. That was the reason his tax record went back such a short time. He’d been here for only a few years, and he’d inherited big from his deceased father, Dr. Daniel Sinclair, who had held thirty-four lucrative patents for medical devices. And he seemed to be a goddamn genius at investing—he’d tripled his holdings each year for three years straight, and during a recession! Nine hundred fucking per cent in three years! Yet she could see no irregularities, no hint of illegal trading, just a man who made uncannily good decisions. Damn long trip for nothing—

“You will stay, won’t you?” D.J. asked. “I’m whipping up some dinner.”

“No, I’d better—”

“Garden salad with my own special dressing,” he tempted. “Then almond-crusted foie gras. A filet mignon, accompanied by truffled mushrooms and asparagus al dente. For dessert, a lemon cake with another of my sauces. And we have some wonderful wines. Please stay. The truffled mushrooms are my favorite little surprise. I have yet to find anyone who can resist them.”

Pamela took off the dark-rimmed reading glasses she had worn to go over the tax accounts. “You cook, too?”

“It’s a hobby,” he said. “We are looking for a professional cook, though.”

“Well...if you’re sure I won’t be in the way...”

“Not at all. And it’s a terribly long drive back. Really, we can put you up for the night. Alice will lend you some lingerie. You’ll feel much fresher in the morning.”

“I think you talked me into it,” she said. “Could I freshen up—?

He escorted her to a wonderfully decadent bathroom, an antique clawfoot tub so big that two could easily fit into it, white marble everywhere, a big double sink, mirrors over it and covering one whole wall, even a bidet. Hmpf. Typical rich pig bastard’s bathroom. She could just imagine D.J. and Alice, soaped and slippery as seals, cavorting in that tub, she grabbing his cock and spreading herself to take it in—whoa, get a hold of yourself.

Pamela sighed and splashed cold water in her face. Some rich schmuck bastards really knew how to live.

When she came out, Alice was waiting. She was wearing a very simple dress, pale blue, a dangerous color for a blonde, but she carried it off. “We can wait in the parlor,” she said. “D.J. is awfully possessive about his kitchen.”

Night was gathering outside. The lewd fountain was illuminated by shifting hues of pink spotlights. “That’s rather...disturbing,” Pamela murmured as she sank back into the comfortable chair.

Alice laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. I think the young lady is enjoying herself immensely. And the gentleman doesn’t seem to mind, judging from the impressive size of his erection.”

“In some towns, the women would have a cerebral hemorrhage if they saw that...that thing in public.”

“Well, we’re a long way from town, and maybe a little more broad-minded. Did you finish your business with D.J.?”

“Yes,” Pamela said with a sigh. Then, suddenly, she asked, “Are you two married?”

“Yes,” Alice said. “Since last June. My mother remarried on the fourth, and D.J. and I married on the fifth. It made Mom happy, and I was pleased to give myself to a man who’s so masterful.”

“I saw your husband kiss that naked Dottie,” Pamela said spitefully.

“He’s very affectionate,” Alice said with a shrug and a smile.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“No,” Alice returned. “I’ve kissed Dottie myself.”


“It was...sisterly,” Alice said with a smile. “Tell me about yourself—may I call you Pamela?”

“Pam,” she corrected. Pamela at work, Pam to everyone else. “There isn’t much to tell.”

“Oh, I’ll bet there is. Are you married?”

Pamela gave a little snort of laughter. “Me? No. Waste of time.”

“Oh really?”

“I don’t want children. And I’m damn good at my job.” She yawned. “Excuse me. Long day. I started at the I.R.S. as an assistant auditor when I got out of college seven years ago. Now I’m a senior tax investigator, and within two years I mean to be a district supervisor. That kind of schedule means marriage is just a distraction.”

“Work’s fine, of course, and I’m sure it’s very rewarding,” Alice said. “But you’re so young and attractive—there must be someone special in your life!”

“Not recently.” She smiled a cat-like smile. “Not all of us can be lucky enough to snare millionaires.”

“Actually, D.J. sort of chose me, not the other way around. He really changed my life. But you must have someone—family, maybe?” Alice asked.

Pamela shook her head. “My dad died the day after I graduated from college—heart attack. Mom drank herself to death two years later. My older sister and I haven’t even exchanged Christmas cards in five years. No, I’m all alone in the world.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Not to me.”

“Ladies.” It was D.J., standing in the doorway. “Dinner is served.”

Damn, the man could cook! Pamela wolfed her way through the salad, through the foie gras, and slowed only at the main course, a buttery, incredibly tender filet. “You’re not eating anything,” she protested when she saw what small portions D.J. and Alice had served themselves.

“We’re used to my cooking,” D.J. said with a chuckle. “Believe me, it’s a pleasure to watch someone dig in.”

“Serve the special wine, dearest,” Alice said.

D.J. raised his eyebrow at her. “Oh? Really?”

Alice nodded. “It would be perfect for this occasion.”

“Very well.” He rose, and in a few moments he returned with a very expensive-looking bottle and three wineglasses. “Miss Harnet, this wine is too good for any of us, but as long as it’s open, we must not let it go to waste.” He poured her a full ruby-red glass, then one for Alice and one for himself. He lifted his glass and said, “To making new friends.”

The meal had softened Pamela up. She clinked her glass against the others and took a tiny sip. The wine hit her taste buds with a jolt, and to her embarrassment she discovered a moment later that she had absolutely drained the glass. “My heavens!” she said with a gasp. “That’s wonderful!”

“Isn’t it?” asked D.J. with a grin. He refilled her glass. “Alice loves this. We’re lucky it’s so rare—otherwise, she might become a real addict.”

Pamela forced herself to go more slowly on the second glass, but she finished it and then had a third. She felt warmth spreading inside her, a delicious, sensuous warmth. Her breath came a little heavy in her throat, and her head spun lightly, but she could not stop drinking this wonderful stuff.

“Where’s little Dottie?” she asked suddenly. “Not eating all alone, is she?”

“Oh, no,” D.J. said in a reassuring tone. “Dottie and May are together. Sometimes they join Alice and me, though.”

“We’re very democratic,” Alice said.

“Who—who is May?” Pamela asked, thinking to herself, My God, I’m drunk!

“May is the maid,” D.J. said. “She’s a treasure. Alice could hardly do without her.”

“Oh, she gives me such a helping hand,” Alice said. “Such a sweet girl, too. Very friendly and affectionate.”

Pamela frowned. It seemed to her that some of the conversation were going right over her head. “Is that—are they your only two servan—I mean helpers?”

“At the moment,” D.J. said. He rose and brought a scrumptious-looking bit of pastry back to the table, dusted in white sugar and swimming in a translucent white sauce. “For you, Ms. Harnet. Alice and I are being careful of calories, but I sincerely hope you like this. I made it just for you.”

Well, it would be impolite not to taste it...and one taste led to an orgy of tasting. Good God, but the dessert was sinful! Tangy, mouth-filling, yet light...and somehow it gave her the same inner glow as the wine.

“You should open a restaurant,” she murmured at last.

“I’ve thought of it from time to time,” D.J. confessed. “Well, I’ll have May wash up these things. You look tired, Ms. Harnet. Perhaps Alice should show you to your room.”

“Mm.” Pamela hardly trusted herself to get out of her chair and walk, but she felt steady enough. Just...glowing. Heated at her core. As if she were a little, not tipsy exactly—a little—a little aroused? An image of the statuary flashed into her mind, and for a crazy second she was clinging to that god’s leg, lifting up a hand, her fingertips gently caressing the silken flesh on the underside of his engorged member, tracing its way forward to the swollen head—

“Your room is right across from ours,” Alice was saying as they climbed a carpeted stair. “Just let us know if you need anything, Pam.”

“Yes,” Pamela said thickly.

Alice opened the door, and Pamela almost squealed with delight. It was a perfect room! A big, comfy Victorian four-poster bed, a pale cream wallpaper with a delicate gold-leaf design, a shag carpet that just wanted to eat her feet up to the ankles...and another decadently delicious bathroom opening off the bedroom. Alice showed her the air conditioning control, then brought her a sinfully thick bath towel and a small kit of toiletries, slim bottles of expensive French shampoo and conditioner, an assortment of soaps, a toothbrush and toothpaste, other goodies. And a thick, thick terry robe, like the one she had been wearing when Pamela first arrived. And—and a negligee. A gauzy, thin negligee. A see-through—

“I can’t wear this!” Pamela exclaimed.

Alice held it up. “Oh, I know it’s a little naughty,” she said. “But I’m afraid it’s all I have. D.J. likes to see me, you know. When I wear night things at all, they’re like this.”

“At all?”

Alice shrugged. “I go naked most of the time. It feels more natural to me, and D.J. likes it. Dottie and May don’t mind—they’re sort of natural nudists, too, as you saw. In fact, if we don’t have callers, most days I meet D.J. naked at the door and give him a good welcome-home blowjob right there in the hall!”

“You—you do?” Pamela thought she should be revolted, but somehow she wanted to—to hear a little more.

“Of course I do,” Alice said simply. “I adore D.J. He has a wonderful cock—it just fills me up! You know, when I first met him, I’d never made a man come with my mouth? But within a day or two, I was sucking his cock for all I was worth, and when he’d shoot his load over my tongue and into my throat, it was just like heaven. I love swallowing his cum! Do you swallow, Pam?”

“I—certainly not! I mean, I’ve done that once or twice, gone—gone, you know, down on a man, but no, I’d never let him—ejaculate in my mouth. That’s degrading!”

“No it isn’t,” Alice said with a reproving little smile. “It’s fulfilling. Ask Dottie or May.”

“Wha—you—you share your husband with your servants?”

“Servants is an old-fashioned word. They’re our equals, you know. And it works both ways. Dottie and May eat me out from time to time. It’s fun to have one of those girls licking my cunt with her soft, hot tongue while I watch D.J. fuck the other one. Some nights he fucks us all, you know, one after the other, while the two that aren’t getting fucked are sucking each other off like crazy!”

“This is—I never—”

“You’re sleepy,” Alice said.

And the second she said it, it was true. Pamela reeled, her eyes heavy, barely able to keep them open. “I—I’m so—so tired,” she moaned.

“Here, I’ll help you.”

When Pamela realized some moments later that Alice had taken her jacket and shucked her right out of her skirt, and was unfastening her bra, she grumbled a groggy protest. No use. Alice disengaged the bra, letting Pamela’s breasts bob out. Pamela crossed her arms.

Alice knelt before her and peeled her panties down, down. “Step out of them,” she said in a voice like a mother gently instructing her daughter. When Pamela did, Alice pulled open a drawer of the bedside table and put her panties and bra in it.

“’m all naked,” Pamela murmured, standing with her arms crossed over her breasts. “Isn’t nice.”

“Sure it is,” Alice reassured her. “It’s very nice. Here we go. Slip your arms in.”

The filmy negligee floated over her. A moment later or an hour later, Pamela was snuggled in bed, warm, toasty, and she began to lick Alice’s thigh, working her way up and up toward the waiting hot, wet slit—

Gack. Her head cleared. Pamela was alone in bed—and licking her pillow! Moonlight filled the room, a soft, romantic light that made everything seem floaty, unreal, like something glimpsed in a child’s bedtime story.

God, she ached! Feeling almost feverish, Pamela threw the covers back, saw the moonlight bathing her body. Her pussy wanted—well, she could—no one would know—her hand slipped down. The negligee had ridden up to just under her breasts, and she stroked the intimate folds of herself tentatively, shocked at how wet she was. Dripping! So, mmm, so slick, so smooth, ah, yes, she found the hot spot just in front of her clit, the delightful slippery flesh that she loved to tease with a wet finger, ahh!

Her breath came hot and hard in her throat, and she slipped her finger lower. Two fingers, index and middle, trapping the demanding little nubbin of her clit between them, the way the sly nymph in the fountain was fingering herself. Oh, yes! Waves of pleasure spread out like ripples from a stone tossed into a still, deep pool...she felt herself lifted, as in a boat, bobbing higher and higher on each ripple—God, she wanted to fuck someone, anyone! She lowered her other hand and explored the hot, wet depths of herself with the fingers of her left hand as those of her right stroked and caressed and fondled her swollen clitoris. Oh, God, her nipples felt so huge, so swollen! She felt like a girl first discovering the delights her body could offer, she felt virginal yet insatiable—

“I’m coming!” she hadn’t meant to shriek it out, but shriek she did, and her hips pounded up and down, fucking her own finger, her ass softly bouncing on the mattress as she spread herself wider and wider, her fingers going deeper, and she wished, God, she wished she had a cock in her, a cock like that on the statue, a huge cock full of cum that would spurt and fill her and overflow and flood the world in white—

She seemed to pass out. At least she didn’t know anything for a while. And then she became aware that—oh, God!—she had stuck her wet fingers, her fingers dripping from her pussy, into her mouth, and she was sucking them, and they tasted salty and wonderful, and she wished, oh, she wished she were sucking D.J.’s cock right at that moment.


Alice giggled, together with May and Dottie, as they watched Pamela finger herself to what looked like a very satisfying orgasm. Casually, Alice leaned her head to the left, so that her cheek nuzzled DJ’s erect cock. She loved the springy feel of it, pliant and yet hard at the same time. “What do you think, Master?” she asked softly.

All three women lay sprawled naked in the outrageously huge bed. Dottie and May cuddled together, right breast to left breast, each one stroking the other’s pussy with indolent fingers. Alice lay face-down next to DJ with her knees at the level of his shoulders. He and the other girls lay propped on pillows, but Alice had chosen to recline with her head toward the foot of the bed to get a closer view of the closed-circuit TV screen on which Pamela had just...performed.

“Mm,” DJ said, one of his hands caressing Alice’s ass, warm and teasing. “I don’t know about this, my dear. Pamela seems enthusiastic enough, but she’s very tough-minded and resistant. I get the impression she doesn’t much care for our way of life—she’s one of those driven and hard-driving career women. Do you really think she’d be happy joining my little harem?”

Alice turned and pulled DJ’s cock toward her. She kissed its swollen tip and began to flick her tongue over it. “She’d be a fool not to,” she murmured. “And, Master, you could use clerical help. Pamela could fit in as—as our business manager. She could help you keep track of all your investments and give you more time for important things.”

His lazy hand had slipped to the warm inside of her thighs, and she stirred, opening her legs to give his fingers access to her wet, expectant pussy. “Important things? Like what?” he asked.

“Like...this.” Alice took the head of his cock into her mouth and slowly, lovingly sucked it, tracing its contours with her tongue, drawing forth the slippery, salty precum that she enjoyed so much. She became aware that May and Dottie, looking on, were raising their own state of arousal. She raised her head, smiled, and crooked a welcoming finger, and May responded, rolling to her tummy, reversing position in the bed, and turning so that she could help administer the blowjob that Alice had begun.

May was twenty-two, an Afro-American beauty whose skin was the shade of coffee with just a dollop of cream. Back at the end of June, she had been at the end of her rope, an orphan working two minimum-wage jobs just to hang onto her apartment in the big, cold city. Then Alice had happened across her, had given her a few doses of the nanobots invented by DJ Sinclair, and had coaxed her into sucking DJ’s cock for the first time. The nanobots had remade her, removing her body hair, repairing every small thing wrong with her, heightening her senses, boosting her sex drive and energy, making her immune to all diseases—maybe even making her immortal. She had come willingly and gladly to live with them.

She was absolutely breath-taking now, 36D breasts crowned with plum-colored nipples that were so sensitive that sometimes just brushing one brought her to a gasping orgasm. She smiled her white smile at Alice and began to suck and nibble at the other side of DJ’s cock. Their tongues flickered and teased, and sometimes they met, springy muscle, wet slick surface, and then the two women had to kiss, long and deep kisses, but they stroked and petted DJ’s cock in the meantime to keep his interest up.

Dottie was behind May. May had lifted herself up on her knees, and Dottie was giving her pussy loving attention, slurping, smacking kisses, long lush licks. Alice could tell when the orgasms ripped through May, because the dark girl gave little purring hums each time, and she quivered delightfully. Alice thought they’d have to do something extra special for Dottie after this—Dottie was the only one whose pussy wasn’t getting any stimulation.

But Dottie loved giving head, to Alice, to May, or to DJ. She was fantastically oral, and she could come just from licking someone else’s clit or cock. Another success story. Dottie had been badly injured in a racing accident the very day that Alice’s mom had remarried. Alice had known her back in high school, though the tomboyish Dorothy Van Stern had been a little older than she was. Alice remembered her well, and she had insisted on visiting Dottie in the hospital, where the doctors said she would be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of her life.

Alice had asked, DJ had said yes, and DJ paid all of Dottie’s hospital bills, then had her airlifted to the mansion. His nanobots could do what medicine couldn’t—rebuild nerve tissue, repair the body from the inside out—and they did so in less than a week. And Alice had talked Dottie into trying the other kind of nanobots, the kind that unleashed her sexual drive and erased her inhibitions. She had been a cute but not beautiful girl, reddish hair, pale skin polka-dotted with a thousand freckles that she hated. Now she was uniformly tan, truly gorgeous, porn-star gorgeous, and her breasts were an ample 34D on her trim, muscular frame. She loved the cars that D.J. bought, lived to drive them, and didn’t miss her old life one bit...and from the sound of things, she was very happy to be driving May to absolute distraction instead of driving a race car!

Alice and May picked up the pace of their sucking and licking. Alice protectively, possessively, cupped DJ’s balls in her hand, stroking them, feeling them heavy with the juices she craved. She was sucking the crown of his cock now, while May licked the shaft, curling her tongue around, making it slick with her saliva. DJ could not help pumping his hips. Alice loved this, loved his fucking her mouth, loved the sense that she could drive him beyond all control. He was her master, but she was mistress of this magnificent cock!

He groaned, stiffened, and his cock erupted! A white fountain of cum shot out. Alice swallowed as much as she could of the first jets, then moved her head aside as May, humming greedily, took him into her mouth and enjoyed the second spasm. “Ohhh,” she moaned at last, licking her glistening lips, “ohhhh, that’s fine!”

They subsided, all of them satiated for the moment. May took one last hearty suck, then rolled back to give Dottie a long, open-mouthed kiss. When they pulled apart, a thin strand of cum tied their lips together. “Baby,” May said, “you made my pussy pound! I’m gonna do the same for you when we’ve rested up a bit.”

“I sort of had fucking her in mind,” DJ objected playfully.

“Okay,” May said obligingly. “You will fuck her and I will suck her, and we’ll drive little Dottie crazy!”

“Uh-oh,” Dottie said with a chuckle. “Looks like Pam’s getting wound up again.”

They turned their attention back to the show the hidden camera was giving them. Pamela, her body not hidden at all by the filmy negligee she wore, had risen from bed, looking flushed in the soft moonlight. She turned on a bedside lamp, and they saw the sheen of sweat on her face and throat. With a grunt, she suddenly tugged the negligee up over her head and sat naked on top of her sheets. Her dark-brown pubic thatch was heavy, but the pale pink gleam of her sex showed clearly through as she reached down to stroke it through the soaked curls.

“That will have to go,” Dottie murmured. “All that hair just gets in the way. Right, Master?”

“It’s just a personal preference of mine,” D.J. said.

“It has to go,” Alice said firmly. “Can you imagine licking that pussy? It would be like licking a real cat!”

“Yuck,” May said, affectionately stroking her own bare, smooth pubis. “Girl don’t know that she ought to show off her assets. We’ll teach her, though.”

On screen, Pamela was pinching and pulling her nipples with her left hand, while her right worked her up to another gasping orgasm. She clearly came, but then she leaped out of bed and hurried into the bathroom.

“What’s she doing?” Dottie asked, craning to see and, incidentally, reaching to cup Alice’s left breast and fondle the dark salmon-colored nipple to its impressive full erection, nearly an inch long.

“Here she is,” May whispered.

Pamela came back from the bathroom clutching something. As she tumbled herself back into bed, Alice could see that she had retrieved the slim bottle of shampoo from the tub. It had a domed cap, and—yes, of course—it would work in a pinch as a dildo. A pinch or a squeeze.

“Look at that,” Dottie said, moving so that she could flick her tongue over Alice’s tempting tit. “She’s got a craving for cock!”

Pamela was whimpering—actually crying, as if in anger at herself—as she licked and sucked at the shampoo bottle! It was as if she were torn, desperately wanting to suck cock but despising herself for the impulse. She stroked and teased her clit with her right hand, while her left held the bottle. She bobbed her head back and forth, trying to deep-throat the shampoo bottle. Bad technique, Alice thought as Dottie lapped both her nipples. Pamela must not have had much experience in giving head to a man. What fun it will be to teach her! Mmm...She ran her fingers through Dottie’s short strawberry-blonde hair, pulling her closer, urging her to take her nipples into her mouth, to tantalize them with her talented tongue. Mmm, Dottie could give Pamela a few pointers. Oh, yes, ohhhhh yes!

May had reached down to fondle and squeeze D.J.’s limp cock. One thing about the nanobots, Alice knew: They gave D.J. a relentless sexual drive, and they allowed him to have orgasm after orgasm, as many as he desired. She giggled again as Dottie’s tongue on her nipples made her pussy clench and practically gush. The three of them already put a lot of demand on that cock of D.J.’s. Four would exercise him just that much more! Mmm!

May’s gentle encouragement had already made D.J.’s dick come to attention. It stood erect, but not fully so, not as hard as they liked it. At its extreme, D.J.’s cock was nearly ten inches long—though he could make it even longer than that if he wanted—and so thick around that their hands could barely enclose its shaft. The head was a magnificent sexual plum, juicy and mouth-filling. Mmm, or pussy filling, Alice added mentally.

Though partly preoccupied, May said, “Damn, is she gonna fuck herself with that thing or just make me want to come in there and do it for her?”

Alice had a strong urge to sixty-nine Dottie, but she didn’t want to miss the show. Pamela was thinking about it. She pressed the domed head of the shampoo bottle against the flesh of her tits, denting the flesh around the nipples, pressing hard, then slipping the top away so that the erect nipples sprang up hungry and demanding. “They’re bigger already,” Alice murmured. Pamela probably wouldn’t notice right away, but the nanobots were enlarging her breasts. The nipples already had grown by about twenty or twenty-five per cent. Alice felt her pussy get wet again as she remembered how sensitive her own nipples and clit had seemed after her first dose of the nanobots.

Ohh...Pamela was moving the bottle down, down, teasing herself. Alice knew she must be imagining that it was some stud’s cock as she pressed its head into her belly, as though she were trying to fuck it with her belly button. Then lower, lower, into the bush, spreading those sodden curls, pressing against her clit, then her slit. The bottle nudged its way, entering the welcoming pink folds of her pussy, and then she was fucking herself with it, lifting her hips off the bed as she pushed the makeshift dildo inside her, pulled it out shiny with her pussy juice, pressed it back hard, then picked up speed....

“Oh,” Dottie gasped. “Master, if you meant what you said—”

“Climb aboard,” DJ responded.

Alice scrambled. She loved to watch DJ fuck the others. She helped Dottie swing her leg over D.J.’s loins, her back to his face. Dottie loved this reverse-cowgirl position, and D.J. always enjoyed the view of Dottie’s ass it gave him. May held his cock steady. Alice stroked Dottie’s pussy, feeling its juicy flow, and then urged her down. The cock head met the slit, and between May’s and Alice’s efforts, in a few moments DJ’s cock was glistening with natural lubrication. Dottie sank down on the rigid shaft, gasping in pleasure as she took the whole length of it inside her. D.J. reached up to pull her back into a leaning, legs-spread position, his hands caressing and fondling her tits.

That opened her for May’s tongue. May rolled on her belly between DJ’s legs and began to lick and lap Dottie’s clit. Alice leaned in to watch, licking her lips and imagining the waves of pleasure shooting through Dottie’s body. Alice reached down to masturbate herself. Except for D.J., she had been host to the nanobots for the longest, and she had gained a conscious control over her body that the others were just beginning to practice.

She willed her clit to engorge itself, extend itself. She could create a pretty good semblance of a small penis, four inches long and about as thick as her thumb. She could even make it shoot a jet of fluid when she came. The nubbin of flesh grew as she rubbed and stroked it, became that little projection—oh, yes, she had to smile when she remembered the first time she had actually fucked a woman with it, and she groaned as she thought of the way Dottie could use her mouth to make her come, sucking on that extended clit, then thrusting her tongue right down into her open pussy—

Dottie screamed. Her whole body jerked, bucked, and heaved as her breasts seemed to grow larger, heavier, and a hot pink flush spread across her torso. She was coming like crazy.

Alice was thrusting her hips as if she, not D.J., were fucking Dottie. Her member suddenly swelled, and then a spurt of liquid erupted from it, making her feel hot all over, making her quiver. May turned away from Dottie, took Alice’s clit into her mouth, and began building her up for another eruption. Dottie pulled herself off D.J.’s cock, then bent to suck and lick it clean, taking in every drop of D.J.’s nanobot-rich semen.

Oh, it was good, it was all so good. Alice didn’t even mind that they missed the first time Pamela tried to force the shampoo bottle into her own asshole.


Pamela woke up to find brilliant sunlight streaming into the room from the window looking out across the lawn, to the lake and the woods beyond it. She lay nearly crossways in the bed, quite naked, and she allowed herself a luxurious, sensuous stretch, feeling as contented as a cat in a patch of sun. Then she frowned. Had she actually fallen asleep last night? She could remember—well, she could remember a lot of things, and they all seemed to take a long, long time. She must have been awake past three in the morning, yet she felt deliciously refreshed, relaxed.

Wait a second. The sun looked awfully high. She scrambled out of bed, nearly slipping on the discarded negligee, and retrieved her sensible digital watch from the bedside table: nearly eleven o’clock! God, she was going to be so late—the office would probably have the police out looking for her, afraid that she’d had a wreck in their goddamn Taurus—

A tap at the door made her squeak in alarm. She snatched up the negligee and threw it over her head before realizing how absurd that was—the dark aureoles of her nipples showed through as if she were wearing plastic wrap! Pamela dived to the bed and pulled the sheet around her. “Yes?”

A lilting voice said, “Breakfast, Ms Harnet.”

“Wh-what? Breakfast?”

The door opened, and a pretty—no, a ravishing Black woman wheeled in a ridiculously overloaded cart. She had a dazzling smile and wore—oh, God, a thin white silk wrapper that did nothing to hide the perky thrust of her nipples. She looked like a chocolate figure iced with a thin white frosting. “Good morning,” she said. “I wondered if you’d be awake yet. You must be starving, you poor thing!”

Pamela sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her throat. “I, well, I need to get away—to get back, I mean, back to the office—but—but—” she gazed helplessly at the cart. A plate held a huge Belgian waffle, topped with gleaming red strawberries, as firm as her nipples had been last night (why did she think that, she wondered), and then a mound of fluffy whipped cream. On the side were smaller plates with sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, a bowl of melon balls and other fruit—a huge mug steamed with coffee, and a carafe and glass suggested juice. And her stomach was screaming at her to put something in it!

“Call them,” the Black woman suggested as she took a bed tray from the lower shelf of the cart and unfolded its legs.

“Well, yes, I should—maybe some coffee—could you turn around, please?”

“Turn around? Why?”

Pamela felt her face grow hot. “I—I don’t have anything much on—”

The woman laughed, a rich, indulgent sound. “My sister, you have nothing I haven’t seen before. Get your phone and make your call, and I’ll have your breakfast ready in two shakes.”

Pamela darted out of bed, got her purse, and took her cell phone from it. When she turned to get back under the sheet, she found the Black woman smiling gently at her. “My heavens, girl, you’ve got absolutely nothing you ought to hide. You’re a pretty thing! Now stop acting silly and let me serve you.”

“Just—just a minute.” With shaking fingers, Pamela punched in the number of the regional office. Susan, the girl at the front desk, answered on the first ring, and Pamela said tightly, “This is Ms Harte. Give me Todd, please.”

The aroma of food tormented her as she waited. Finally Todd Maldrum’s irritable voice rapped out: “Yes, Pamela, what is it?”

“I’m just reporting in,” Pamela said. “I’ve finished my audit of the Sinclair file. It, uh, took longer than I thought—very complicated—”

“How’d it turn out?”

“Not the way I expected. No tricks, no unpaid taxes, no penalties. Seems to have been right on the penny, although there were a hell of a lot of things to keep track of.”

Todd sniffed. “I would’ve expected irregularities—an income that size, and the man does his own taxes! Well, win some, lose some. When will you be back in the office?”

“Later today. It’s a long drive. It’ll probably be four o’clock or—”

“Don’t sweat it, then. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Monday will be fine.”

“Okay to keep the car until then?”

“Hell, you’re the senior investigator here. Of course it is. Just bring it in gassed up.”

She said goodbye and turned the phone off just as the Black woman lowered the tray. “Thank you,” she said laying the phone on the bedside table and trying not to notice the way the woman’s wrapper fell open, giving her a glimpse of wonderfully full breasts.

“Don’t mention it. My name is May, by the way.”

“Mine’s Pamela. Pam.” She took a sip of coffee. “My God, this is good!”

“Thank you,” May said with a smile. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Please do.”

Delicately, May settled herself on the foot of the bed. “Go ahead, eat. D.J. thinks he’s such a great cook—but let me tell you one thing for sure, no man can beat me in the kitchen! I love to watch people enjoy my food.”

“It looks good.” Pamela forked into the Belgian waffle, took a bite, and almost had an orgasm. “Mmm,” she moaned. “Oh, my God, that’s perfect!”

“Dig in.”

For a few minutes, everything became a blur. Pamela felt so—so decadent! She ate the waffle greedily, then tore through everything else, sausages, eggs, fruit, wheat toast. She was still breathing hard as she took the last sip of orange juice. “Oh, I haven’t eaten like that in—good God, did I eat everything?”

“You sure did,” May said with a chuckle. “Be good for you, girl. Put a little meat on your bones!”

“Lard on my ass,” she moaned. “I’ll have to diet for weeks!”

“Nonsense,” May told her. “None of us ever has to diet!”

“You all eat like this? I mean, DJ and Alice and that na—and Dottie?”

“Sure do. Oh, maybe the portions are smaller, but we’ve got the secret. Look here.” She stood up, and to Pamela’s surprise, casually opened the white silk wrapper and let it fall to the floor. May stood hipshot, one foot a little ahead of the other, one hand on her hip, the other stroking her flat belly. “Good shape. You could do this too, you know. Not have to worry about dieting, not ever.”

A faint whimper escaped from Pamela’s parted lips. She was staring at those high breasts, the prominent nipples, as dark and ripe as a plum. Her eyes glided down over the firm brown body, lightly sheened in the morning light, to—to her bare—to—

“Oh,” Pamela said, feeling her nipples stiffen, feeling a flicker of strange desire at the sight of May’s casually-bared, shaven cunt.

Naked, May took the tray off the bed and put it on the cart. She then sat down, leaning in close, uncomfortably close. “I look okay, don’t I?” she whispered.

“You’re—beautiful,” Pamela whispered. Her throat tightened and she felt tears sting her eyes. “And—and Alice is beautiful, and Dottie—I feel like a—like a goddamned hippopotamus. A flat-chested one!” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Girl,” chided May with an easy laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Raise up for a minute. Come on, raise up! Move your arms—can’t do anything with your arms crossed—there we go.”

Pamela protested weakly as May peeled her out of the revealing negligee. “Don’t,” she said.

“Oh, hush.” May stretched out a hand and caressed Pamela’s left breast. Pamela felt the skin of her stomach flutter uncontrollably. “This is nice. Oh, yes, very nice. What are you, about a 36D?”

“I—I wish,” Pamela murmured, though her throat felt thick and clogged. “Just a 32—oh. Oh, look at me!” She stared down in open-mouthed surprise. The tits she saw were her own, but unfamiliar. Fuller, somehow. Bigger, yet still bouncy and pliant and the skin was so clear, so smooth—no, this was wrong! “Where’s my bra?” she asked.

Without a word, the nude May rose, opened the drawer of the nightstand, and took the garment out. How had she known where Alice had stored it? Pamela hectically threaded her arms through the straps, pulled the cups into place, reached behind—ahh! The ends wouldn’t come close to meeting! She felt as if the bra were cutting into her, and she gave up. Sitting there in bed, she ran her hands over the two bare globes, feeling the heat of her nipples, feeling their sudden stiff pressure against her palms. “What’s happening to me?” she asked.

“Nothing bad,” May said. She was standing beside the bed, her crotch almost at face level. Pamela’s nostrils twitched. Did—could she—was it possible that she could smell May’s pussy? God, she felt herself getting wet!

“Did D.J. drug me?” she suddenly demanded.

May tilted her head on one side and stared down quizzically. “What? Pam, you think there’s some kind of pill that makes titties grow?”

Pamela bit her lip and shook her head, knowing how crazy that sounded. Yet she felt—she felt not right, she felt weird. Tingling from head to toe. And horny. Oh, yes, very horny. If May walked out right this second, she would dive down and pick up that goddamn shampoo bottle, which lay where it had fallen at last from her sleeping fingers, and she would, oh, press it against her pussy and let it work its way in—

No! That wasn’t right! She was a serious career woman, not some kind of whore—

“Stand up a minute.”

As though she were a child, Pamela followed May’s direction. She stood fearfully, not sure of herself, not sure of anything. She held one forearm protectively across her breasts, spread the other hand over her sex, trying to conceal it.

May was exactly the same height as her. Their breasts, Pamela saw now, were just about a match. Somehow her own nipples and aureoles had grown puffier, larger. Looking at May was like looking at a Black mirror of herself—

“You look so nice,” May cooed. She stepped closer, her face swimming into Pamela’s vision until she could see nothing else. She felt May’s hands, warm hands, stroking her shoulders. “You look real fine, Pam. Good enough to eat—” she bent forward and pressed her mouth against Pamela’s, and my God Pamela thought I’m kissing a woman, oh, her lips are hot, her tongue, oh, so sweet, so hot, better than the food better than oh, God, I feel her breasts soft against mine, oh, I’m wet—

Pamela’s arms had somehow gone around May, as if it were their own idea and she couldn’t control them. The Black woman’s flesh was hot, hot as a furnace, Pamela thought as her hands swept across those undulant curves. She felt May’s hands on her ass, pulling her forward, felt their pudenda press together, felt the soft pressure of May’s knee against her thighs, opened her legs, felt May’s thigh push between her legs—

“This is wrong,” Pamela moaned. “I’m not—not a lesbian—”

“Oh, hush,” May said again. “I love cock as much as the next girl. But there’s more than sausage on the menu, girl. Let me lay you down.”

Pamela tried to push away, but another kiss weakened her knees, and she felt herself sag back. May swung onto the bed, her legs scissoring open. “Roll back now on your shoulders,” she said, and Pamela felt her lift her ass up. “That’s right, that’s good. Now just roll with me, honey.”

Lust dimmed Pamela’s eyes, but she saw the shapely leg kneel beside her hip, felt May lower her body until their pussies pressed together. Ohhhh...unbelievable! The flesh of her pussy was so sensitive, so aware, that she could feel the crinkled folds of May’s pussy, could feel the tight round bulge of her excited clit, could feel, mmm, the drip of juice form May into herself. Pamela wanted to shove her off, to run, but God it felt so good, and her traitorous body took over and began to press, began a rolling rhythm. Their two wet slits kissed, slipped over each other, exchanged juices. Pamela braced her arms beside her on the bed and pushed upward, trapping her clit against May’s.

May stretched her neck and threw her head back. “Oh, girl, that’s gooood, that’s sooo goooood...Mmm, baby, yeah, that’s it! Oh, fuck me, girl!”

Pamela was panting, but she grinned and gasped, “You like that? You like that? Want some more?”

“Harder,” moaned May, and they made the bedsprings squeak as they picked up the fevered pace of their lovemaking.

Pamela groaned, “Oh, make me come, make me come!”

“Yes, baby,” May said, her pussy frantically quivering against Pamela’s. “Play with those pretty titties, baby. Let me see you play with them!”

Pamela was jerking in passion, close to the edge but not able to lift herself over that last barrier. Obediently, she began to run her hands over and over her breasts, feeling the nipples thrust, sharp and hungry with desire. She sucked her fingers, then spread the saliva over her nipples. Squinting up, she saw May playing with her own boobies, lifting first one, then the other, and licking the incredible jutting nipples. Oh, she ached to pull them into her own mouth, to feel the springy flesh against her tongue—

“Oh, God! Oh, my God!”

An orgasm, as overwhelming as a breaking wave, engulfed her and turned her world into something like music, something like light, for a long, long moment. “Ohh, no-o-o,” she groaned as the wave receded, as she became aware that May had collapsed beside her in the bed. “Ohh, I’ve never felt that way before. Oh, my God, May, I—what did we do?”

“Made love, sugar,” May said with a chuckle. “Was it as good as my cooking?”

“Oh, better!” Pamela said. “But—I can’t, but I want—I want more—I can’t possibly—but I do. I want—”

“You want to suck cock,” May said.

Pamela rolled to the side and buried her face in the pillow. She started to scream, “No!”

But instead heard herself murmur, “Yes. Yes. Oh, God, I need a cock.”


Pamela cringed. How had she allowed May to talk her into this—this abomination? She had tucked herself into the chair opposite the huge bed where the others lounged—all of them at least wearing something, just robes, but they were dressed, they didn’t have their—their sexes hanging out, exposed, tempting—

Not tempting. No, it was ugly, it was dirty, to live the way they did, it was degrading and dehumanizing and—

“Do you understand?” D.J. asked. He sat on the edge of the bed with his—his sluts draped out behind him, all of them smiling their horrible smiles at her, as if they knew that, inside the terrycloth robe she wore herself, her pussy was wet, her nipples were tingling—

Her throat felt bone-dry. “I don’t believe it,” she croaked. “I mean, I understand what you’re telling me, but it’s too fantastic to—it’s like science fiction or—”

“It’s true, though,” D.J. said. “I am close to eighty years old chronologically. The nanobots that I invented but hid from the government have rejuvenated me. I went to Canada, where I pretended to live with a son I never had. I used my computer skills to plant data giving that son a background—a fictitious mother, who supposedly had divorced me years before. Then in Toronto I set up my laboratory, injected myself with my nanobots, and gradually became young again. Better than I was when I was actually this age. And I set things up so I inherited a fortune, and my nanobots have made me smart enough to make that fortune multiply itself many times over.”

Pamela shook her head. “But—but why—why live like this, like animals?”

May laughed, a booming sound of amusement, and Alice quirked an eyebrow. “We live like very pampered humans, thank you,” she said softly.

D.J. spread his hands. “Why live this way? Because I want to. I spent seventy-eight years as a dedicated scientist, only to see my work perverted and abused by the government. Now I have a life of leisure—and the opportunity to enjoy my body to the fullest. So these ladies suck me and fuck me and keep me very happy. In return, I take care of them.”

“Like pets,” Pamela said bitterly.

“You just don’t get it,” Dottie said. “Listen, Pam, I was halfway to being a butch dyke when I lost control of a car and snapped my spine. Know what I was planning? As soon as I got out of the hospital, I was gonna find some way to kill myself. But then Alice came and visited me, and before long D.J.’s little critters gave me feeling in my legs and got rid of my goddamn freckles and made me feel alive and sexy as hell—and I love every second of it!”

“But—you don’t even get paid!” spluttered Pamela, feeling obscurely ridiculous. “He doesn’t even withhold taxes—”

“Because he doesn’t pay us anything,” May said. She reached out and caressed D.J.’s shoulder. “D.J., honey, could I have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to spend any way I want to?”

“Sure,” D.J. said. “You want a credit card or cash?”

“See?” asked Dottie. “I just had to mention the Porsche, and the next morning there it was, right outside the house. Who needs to be paid, for God’s sake?”

“But—but you’ve all become dumb sluts—”

“Dumb?” Alice asked. “I’ll have you know that I have a degree in psychology, and I graduated second in a class of 1709. Is that dumb?”

“Shh,” said D.J. as Pamela started to object. “Pam, tell me one thing: Why do you want to pursue your career?”

“Because—because it’s something I’m good at! Because I can track down the bastards who try to defraud the government and make them pay!”

“You’ve been over my taxes with me. You know all about my real estate holdings, my investment portfolio. You see the establishment we run here. How would you like to be in charge of all that?”

Pamela shook her head. “Impossible.”


“Because—because you’re one of the bad guys!”

D.J. chuckled. “I don’t see myself that way. I wasn’t one of the government agents who lied about the research they were having me do. I didn’t try to steal anyone’s intellectual property, as they did with me. And you saw how meticulous I’ve been about taxes. How am I bad?”

“I couldn’t do anything like that,” Pam said. “I don’t have the expertise to manage a mutimillion-dollar portfolio. I’d screw it up.”

“Not with my nanobots helping you,” D.J. said. “The girls have told you—they make you better in every way. Not only sexier and capable of enjoying your body to an extent no one else could imagine, but smarter, quicker, brighter.”

“You wouldn’t trust me.”

“I would trust you with my life, if you joined us,” D.J. said.

Pamela put a hand over her eyes. “I—I’d have to call you ‘Master.’”

Alice snorted. “I’m beginning to think I was all wrong about you, Pam. Listen, I call D.J. ‘Master’ not because he asked me to, but because I want to! It was my own idea!”

“It’s a game, right, D.J.?” asked May.

“Right,” D.J. said. “I don’t mind, but I don’t require it, either. These girls could call me anything.”

“Bigdick Fuckaplenty,” suggested Dottie, and the other two girls broke up in squealing laughs.

A fleeting smile crossed D.J.’s lips. “Well—maybe not in public,” he said.

Alice had raised up on her knees behind and to one side of D.J. She licked the side of his neck, then nibbled his ear, as her hand slipped inside the front of his robe, stroking his chest, teasing his nipples. “Come on,” she said to Pamela. “Try sucking his cock just once. You’ll love it.”

“He’s got sweet meat,” May said with a grin.

Horrified, Pamela pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head.

“We’re going to have to show her, hon,” Alice said to D.J.

“Wait!” Pamela exclaimed. “What if—what if I—tried—but decided not—not to stay here—?”

“We aren’t slaves, silly,” May told her.

“You could go back to your life, if you wanted,” D.J. agreed. “I’d have to modify your memory, though—you’d remember coming out and auditing my books, but everything else would seem like a dream to you. I couldn’t have you giving away my secrets.”

“I—I don’t know.”

Impatiently, Alice peeled the robe down from D.J.’s broad shoulders. “Think about it,” she said. “Just watch and...think about it.”

Dottie got off the bed and came around the end. “I’ll help her watch,” she said. “And think.” She shrugged, and her terry robe pooled around her feet. Nude, she knelt beside Pamela’s chair and began to stroke her auburn hair. “Just watch,” she cooed.

Alice and D.J. shed their robes, and Pamela felt her eyes flash wide at the sight of that enormous cock, already rising. My God, she thought, it’s as big as the one on the statue, the one that Alice—no, the nymph—caresses, the one that’s shiny wet stiff long—

Now May was naked, too, and she gently pulled back at D.J.’s shoulders until he was lying at an angle, not quite sideways to Pamela. She leaned over him, her hanging breasts sharp-tipped, and toyed with him, letting her nipples sweep back and forth across his lips. “Show her,” May said in a throaty voice. “Show Pam, Alice.”

Alice reclined on the far side of D.J., leaning on her left elbow. Her right hand stroked D.J.’s stiffening cock, as if she were molding a masterpiece from wet clay. “Oh, that’s nice,” she said. “Make it big for her, D.J. Make it really big.”

Pamela watched in incredulity as D.J.’s cock elongated by at least two more inches and swelled to a girth that made her hot between her legs. “Uhhh,” she groaned, and she felt Dottie’s hand languorously stroking her neck. She couldn’t close her eyes, couldn’t look away.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Alice asked conversationally, though she didn’t look up. Her sapphire-blue eyes were intent on the head of that monster cock. She tossed her head, and her incredibly golden hair bounced with life and youth. “Mm, it’s hot, too, Pam. Imagine putting your hand around this shaft. Imagine touching your lips to its” she bent forward, and Pamela helplessly put the point of her own tongue between her dry lips “...this.” Alice gave the swollen head smacking little baby-kisses. Then she curled out her pink tongue and began to swirl it over the engorged purple surface, making it gleam.

Alice opened her legs. “Mmm. Little help, May?”

“Surely.” May was now sitting cross-legged, her thigh supporting D.J.’s head, her cunt close by his face. She leaned lazily forward and began to tease and stroke Alice’s welcoming slit. “Girl, you are one wet, horny little babe.”

Pamela groaned: “Ohhh...” She was dimly conscious of Dottie tugging at the robe she wore. She released her hold on it, and it crept open to expose her breasts. Dottie began to pinch and roll one of her nipples with wet fingers. Pamela leaned her head to the side, resting her face against Dottie’s. “This...isn’t....fair.”

“Honey,” May said, “all is fair in love and fucking.”

Now Alice held the cock as if it were an ice-cream cone, and her tongue teased its head, ran around the ridge at the base of the glans, plunged into the slit at the tip, pulled away with a silvery drooping string of precum clinging to it. Pamela was sitting lower in her chair, her feet on the floor, legs apart, opening herself. She turned her face toward Dottie, and Dottie kissed her, and Pamela sucked on her tongue, imagining it was—

Oh, God! Something had touched her sex, something quivering and—a vibrator. The sneaky Dottie must have had it concealed in her robe pocket. It was soft, but it buzzed like a hive of bees, and its quivering surface found her clit, unerringly, and—she bucked and gasped as an orgasm took her! “No...fair,” she groaned again, turning her sex-blurred eyes back to the scene on the bed before her.

Alice was on her knees now, legs spread far apart, and Pamela could hear the squish of May’s fingers as the dark girl plunged them in and out of that welcoming cunt. Just—she writhed—just as the vibrator was slipping—yes! Yes!—into her own grasping slit, humming her to new heights of pleasure, making hot flashes explode through her.

And Alice’s mouth—she had lowered herself over D.J.’s prick and she opened her mouth wide, God she must feel the stretching in her jaw joint, and she had just managed to engulf the engorged head, and now she was sucking, sucking happily, sucking with absolute abandon—

May had risen, had suspended her slit over D.J.’s face, and his tongue was working on her clit, she gleamed, she shone, as if her body were lubricating itself for him, because of him, and her face clenched tight on passion, and then she smiled and jerked with relief, with an orgasm that looked more intense than anything Pamela had ever experienced, and she wanted it, she wanted that feeling—

A breast was beside her face, and she turned and nuzzled it, and took the hard nipple between her lips and polished it with her tongue, yes, and that felt right, too. Dottie caressed her head, cooing like a dove, but her hand did not release the vibrator, pumped it in and out, and for some reason Pamela couldn’t come. She whimpered and gasped and pressed her cunt forward, trying to make herself come. She squeezed the invading vibrator with her pussy muscles, clenched it, felt herself on the edge, the very edge, but she couldn’t get there, oh, God, she wasn’t going to make it, she couldn’t come—

Dottie whispered to her: “You’d come if you sucked D.J.”

“I’ll let you have a turn,” purred Alice.

“It’s damn good, girl,” May urged.

“Your decision,” D.J. said.

“It isn’t fair,” whimpered Pamela.

But she got to her feet—Dottie had to help her, she could hardly move—and blundered a couple of steps forward, falling onto her knees at the side of the bed. The carpet cushioned her, was soft against her knees, even brushed against her pussy. Alice held the rod of D.J.’s cock enticingly. “Kiss it,” she whispered. “Just kiss it once.”

Pamela leaned forward. Her strangely acute sense of smell caught the tang of him, the masculine aroma, and she felt hotter than she had ever been in her life, steam-room hot. She lowered her head, slowly, unwillingly. It looked—good. It looked like forbidden fruit and freedom from responsibility and worry and—a little clear drop had collected at the slit.

Pamela touched her lips to it. She felt a rush of shame, everyone watching her, behaving like a slut, like a whore—

Trembling, she put her tongue between her pursed lips. It touched the surface of the glans, swept over the slit, picked up that drop of precum—

Ohh. Ohhhhh, it was...good...spicy, somehow, making her want...more....

She opened her mouth as wide as she could and covered the cock head, feeling it crush her tongue back, but then she began to lick it, pulled it inside her mouth and still licked it, and yes, it was good, and yes, she was closer than ever—

“Don’t try to get fancy,” Alice whispered into her ear. “Just a little up and down. I’ve got his balls in my hand, and he’s ready to come. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” Pamela heard herself say dreamily. Oh, she was so close, so close, she felt that in another moment she’d explode—she began to bob her head, just managing to get the head of his cock in, tightening her lips around it, giving him friction, feeling him stiffen even more, feeling the first spasm begin—

Ahhh! He shot hot cum into her mouth, and it tasted wonderful and oh God she was coming and coming too, she couldn’t stop, oh, God, she somehow took half that shaft into her, the head far at the back of her throat, and he came again, ropy jets hitting the back of her throat and she should be gagging, but no, she was swallowing, and God coming again, harder and harder, and she pulled her head free, cum drooling from her lips, and Alice’s lips were on her throat, cleaning off the residue, and oh, God, she looked up at a smiling D.J.—

“Master,” she said.


Todd just stared at her. “You’re what?”

“I’m quitting,” Pamela told him. “Today. Now.”

The tubby administrator leaned back in his swivel chair, shock on his froggy face. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“I’m not. Here are my office keys. Here’s the address for my last paycheck.” Pamela tossed the envelope onto his desk.

Todd shook his head. “You out of your mind? Look, you’re on the fast track to—”

“I had a better offer, Todd.”

He frowned. “From that Sinclair guy you were investigating?”


He got up, a bald, fat little man with blood pressure several points too high. “Goddamn it! He fuckin’ bribed you!”

“He did not. He offered to make me his estate manager. It’s a challenging and rewarding position, and I’ve decided to take it.”

Todd snatched the thick file folder that she had handed him a few minutes before. “I’m goin’ over this myself,” he threatened. “And if I find one dime out of place, that bastard’s going down, and he can take you with him, you fuckin’ cunt!”

“You are such a charming asshole,” Pamela told him. “Audit away. You won’t find a thing, and you know it. And next year I will be doing his taxes, so you can forget about finding any irregularities.” She turned to go, but then paused in the doorway. “By the way, Todd, I know all about the petty cash fund and about your free and easy use of government property. I have it all documented. You bother D.J. Sinclair, and you’ll find yourself the guest of the government for, oh, say five to fifteen years.”

He turned a brighter shade of purple, and she left him spluttering. Just outside the office, Dottie, dapper in a gray chauffeur’s uniform—complete with some very sexy thigh-high boots—waited in the Porsce. With a grin, Pamela slipped in beside her. “All done?” Dottie said.

“All done,” Pam told her, and leaned over to give her a long, lingering kiss. “Let’s go home.”

Alice became her mentor, her guide, her golden-haired angel. Within a few days, Pam felt proud of her smooth, hairless body, her bare cunt. God, she loved to feel Alice’s tongue at work down there, and their long, long sessions of sixty-nine sex, with May and Dottie and D.J. looking on appreciatively, made her conscious of being fully a woman, being an instrument and a vessel of pleasure.

And D.J.’s cock, his wonderful cock, pouring streams of cum into her pussy, her asshole, her mouth...and every load filled her with more devotion, more understanding, more undying love for this wonderful man. Her acumen grew with her sexual appetites, and before fall was over, she had found ways to increase D.J.’s already immense fortune, to reduce his tax load—she giggled that that just might cause Todd to have a coronary next April. How could she ever have thought this kind of life pointless, self-indulgent? It was right to suck cock and pussy, to take her lovers any way they wanted, in return to ask for and receive any pleasure she could imagine.

On an unusually warm October morning, an Indian-summer day, she slipped naked out of the house and went out to look at the fountain. It no longer looked dirty to her, no longer lewd. Of course the sea-god had an enormous cock, and of course his minions appreciated it and loved him for it.

She heard something behind her and looked over her shoulder. D.J. was in the doorway, wearing his robe. She leaned on the rim of the fountain, arched her back, and opened her legs, inviting him. He came up behind her and she felt his hands on her ass, stroking, caressing. She hummed and started to cup her breasts, to enjoy this outrageous feeling of freedom, naked in the light of an October morning. She felt his cock against her pussy, and she pressed back, loving the shock of acceptance. “Fuck me,” she said, and he began to piston in and out of her. She came at once, a blinding orgasm. “Yess! Harder!” she demanded, and he fucked her harder, deeper, pounding, his balls slapping against her ass. Oh, and she CAME, and she CAME again and again! Oh, God, this was wonderful!

When she felt him stiffen—she knew the signs now—she suddenly pulled away, pirouetted, went to her knees, and took him in her mouth, oh, God, he tasted so good, tasted of her cum and of his urgent need, and then he EXPLODED and she swallowed, and tears of gratitude ran from her eyes and her hands sank into the muscles of his ass, and she pulled and pulled him, trying to take it all, take the whole thing, and swallowed, and inside her his cum glowed....

The others found them a few minutes later, splashing and cavorting in the fountain, and they jumped in, laughing their heads off, and soon they all were wet and shiny in the sun, and then on the grass mouths found pussies and fingers found assholes, and D.J.’s cock did them one, two, three, four, and they came and came until Pam thought her heart would explode, and then she was between D.J, whose cock was in her ass, and Alice, whose fingers were in her cunt, and their mouths pressed together, and Pam surrendered to their attentions and her pussy flowed as she came, and all the while she said over and over again, “Thank you Master. Thank you Mistress. Oh, thank you, thank you.”