The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The rest of the office seemed insultingly surprised I’d scored the team lead gig, but they were too distracted by Sandra’s racy outfit and effervescent demeanor to pay much attention. We’d have to dial back the attire before somebody complained up the chain, but for one day it was harmless fun. After everybody had packed up and gone home, I told Sandra she’d been a good boss, patted her on the head, and allowed her to go down on me, no begging required this time. She still begged (Dignity shmignity had worked surprisingly well for a place-holder command), but just for fun.

She led me strutting heel-toe back to her office to check on Jordana, my cum still decorating the space around her lips. Unsurprisingly, Jordy was right where I left her. She looked distraught, sweaty and tear-streaked and drool-speckled and trembling in fear or anxiety or terror or maybe she just needed to go to the bathroom really badly. By now, unless she was orders of magnitude more resilient to the Knife than Sandy had been, she should be way past being able to fuck this up for me. Honestly, she was such a sight that despite what she’d tried to do to me, all the slander and lies, I felt pity more than anything. I sent Sandra to take her for a potty break, then settled in to see what she’d produced for me.

The questionnaire had been Sandra’s idea, a real master stroke from a girl who was learning fast how to stroke her Master. Instead of the broad attitudinal commands I’d given the boss, we’d tried some very explicit ones on Jordy. If the point was to give her a little taste of her own medicine, a little hazing to teach her a lesson about being a bitch for no reason, we’d get a lot more bang for our buck if we knew more about what makes her tick. She didn’t need an internet connection to respond to the items in the document, only the ability to type.

For instance:

1) Describe a sexual act or kink that repulses you, and why.

I’ve always hated the concept of “motorboating.” A boy I knew in high school did this to me once at a pool party when I was wearing a 2-piece bikini without even asking and we weren’t dating either, and all of his jerkwad buddies laughed. They kept laughing even as I ran from the pool to put a shirt on. Now I don’t even like when a man touches my breasts during sex. Unfortunately due to their size most men keep trying even when I make it clear I do not enjoy it. I’m still working through it with my therapist to this day.

Damn. She’d really done it. Today’s training had pretty much just been the necessary commands to make her sit still and acquiesce to the process. With this questionnaire in hand, we’d know just how to make her squirm. I read on. Number three had her reveal a secret sexual talent, namely, her impressive lung capacity she’d discovered sucking off an ex-boyfriend in a hot tub once. Five had her list a half dozen degrading things she could be ordered to do, and six was to rank them from most to least undesirable to her. (Jordy had gone with flashing → no bra & panties → pacifier → pigtails → facials → spanking. Several of those surprised me). Seven and eight probably should have been one item, tly providing the name, info, and backstory on her bitterest breakup. She didn’t know the info, but noted that it was available on her phone, for which she provided me the code.

The last question had been a last minute inclusion and simply read, Anal? Even with that minimalist prompt, Jordy had written at length about how she’d discovered she actually rather enjoyed anal sex, but she was usually too self-conscious to tell a guy, and had a lot of hangups about accidentally shitting herself in the process. Huh. One more reason I didn’t wanna get boned by other dudes. Not that I’m homophobic, just… blech. I don’t get how anybody could actually want something that nasty. BLECH. But seriously, not homophobic.

By the time I was done, I sort of just felt sorry for her. I’d come into this with all these nasty fantasies about having her fall to her knees and blow me while she cried and fingered herself to orgasm, hot shit like that. Give it a long weekend at my place working out my issues, and I’d give her the Sandra treatment and let bygones be bygones. Now, seeing all these fears and emotional scars laid bare, I just… I couldn’t. With a sigh, I let my hands flop down in resignation.

A couple fingers hit Sandra’s keyboard. By reflex, I tapped ctrl+z and they disappeared.

Hmm.

I pressed it again, and this time held it down. Word by word, line by line, typo by correction, her answers rolled themselves back. The questionnaire had been a document on the desktop which the Knife commands had guided her to, so the questions stayed. As I watched it all recede, though, I had to wonder. It must have taken hours before she’d been hit hard enough to produce these excellent, unabashed answers. Yet with her ass effectively glued to her seat and nothing else to do, what had she gotten up to before she got started? What did Jordy 1.0 have to say, if anything?

After a little bit, there were only questions, and then in a flash they disappeared, replaced by a huge paragraph she must have deleted before responding to the questionnaire in earnest. It went on for pages. I read.

Noble, you fucking psycho, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I swear, I will find a way to break free from this and I will make you pay. Make you suffer. I don’t know how I could possibly have been taken like this by the single stupidest, least self-aware, childish, imbecilic talentless sexist homophobic transphobic racist [every other sub-type of bigoted] asshole I’ve ever met. Working with you has been pure hell, and you’re welcome for carrying you as far as I did. I’m going to bite your dick off. I can feel this whatever changing me, but I am going to hold onto that no matter what. When there’s nothing left of me but another bimbo whore like you somehow turned Sandra into, I’ll still have that kernel of dick cannibalism, and I will tear it off and spit it down your stupid throat.

Stay strong. I can do this. I can be strong. I can’t stand up, but I’ll figure it out. You’re smart, Jordana. Mom and Dad are watching. Time to make them proud. You can do this, just

Blah blah blah. I skimmed past all the struggling self-affirmation stuff. God, melodramatic much? I could see, though, how even facing mental oblivion, she’d still managed to find energy to try to pen a farewell hate note to me. It was frankly galling.

When Sandra walked her back into the office, eyes downcast, breathing through her nose as the ball gag still stuffed her mouth, the pity was gone.

So that was Tuesday. Tuesday night, I sent Jordy home and ed some fresh commands. She’d already spent the day basking in stuff to keep her from getting help or running away—airtight helplessness, thanks to Sandra—but that night, it was time to blow off that steam.

I went home with Sandra. She stripped out of her slutty dress and stepped into some properly whorish lingerie to make me dinner in. (I didn’t even have to ask! What a sweetheart.) We talked over how best to implement the questionnaire, but she talked me down from the laundry list of fuck-you’s I’d been contemplating.

“You know, Master, you might do better keeping it simple. I appreciate so much all you did to me. You’re so brilliant, so capable, so handsome, so powerful,” she murmured as she hand-fed me a bite of steak. It wasn’t seasoned the way I liked it, but I wasn’t going to get fussy when she was only trying to be nice. Sandra’s soft, supple bottom wriggled into my crotch as she tried to make me come in my pants. It was definitely pretty great, getting a lap dance with full groping privileges during your dinner. Even if it wasn’t seasoned right. Hmph.

“Simple? I showed you what she said. I consider myself a reasonable man, but—” I grunted as she dripped grease on my shirt and gave her barely covered ass a few hard smacks. “Damnit, Sandy, be careful! This shirt is silk!”

“My most sincere apologies, Master. I’ll launder it for you immediately, Master. And buy you three more. And put on my favorite dress and suck your cock until you come all over it, and never wash it out, and when people notice I’ll tell them exactly what it is, tell them I’m a slut who loves her Master’s cum so much she couldn’t feel beautiful without wearing it. And of course, I’d appreciate a spanking to remind me not to be so careless in my duties, Master. Thank you again, by the way, for not letting me enjoy spankings. It’s such a relief to know I can be truly punished when I err. I’d hate to diminish the severity of my failure by coming while you paddle your cuntslave’s bare ass, Master.”

I gave her a final half-hearted smack, then pulled her in for a kiss. “Oh, you know I can’t stay mad at you.”

She gingerly plucked a hunk of meat off the plate with her teeth and deposited it in my mouth, making sure any drippage went down her throat. “I wish you would, Master. I’ll never learn how best to serve you if I’m not properly trained.” She wasn’t going to maintain her figure slurping down meat juice, but I suppose I could forgive it considering how hot it was watching her tryhard.

“So, you were saying? Keep it simple?” I prompted, resuming my casual kneading of her tits.

“Right, Master. I was only thinking that, like with coding, simpler is usually better. The lengthier the code, the more opportunities that something gets screwed up. I won’t torture the metaphor; my point is only that all you really need is to render her obedient and impotent, with perhaps a sprinkle of whatever will put her in the appropriate frame of mind to absorb her justly deserved punishment.”

I nodded as I chewed and squeezed. “That makes sense. Though… Hmm.”

“What, Master? Did my suggestion displease you?” She pressed her tit into my palm apologetically. I could imagine it was hard for her to look contrite when she was always smiling like that. Maybe I could go in and edit that out sometime. For now, I still thought it was pretty hot, like she was some kind of doll that only had one expression. Women were always griping about being told to smile more, but she really did look prettier this way.

“Sorry, just… I wondered for a second if you might be trying to protect her. Since you two are friends and all.”

She gasped in dismay, somehow while still grinning. “Master! You’re the only person in the entire world I have any feelings for, I swear!” (If that sounded romantic, rest assured, I’m the one who deserves all the credit. Almost a direct quote from my Knifing.) “Please, let me prove to you that I hate whatever you hate. If you want to make Jordy—not Jordana, Jordy—suffer, I want to watch her brought to her knees and made to beg for her Master’s mercy. With the caveat that, unlike what you’ve done for me, she is not to be allowed to enjoy begging on her knees.”

My boss slid down off my lap, lubricated by the silk of her panties, and landed on the floor beneath her dining room table. “May I please beg you, Master?”

I rolled my eyes. Man, I was such a softie. “Knock yourself out, Sandy.”

While my boss-turned-cuntslave begged—to blow me, to violate her protégée, to legally change her name to Sandy Su Slutsnatch—I focused on my Knife command module. Simple. That was a good idea. She was right—I was brilliant. Right now, Jordy was sitting at home just waiting to be further modified. Every minute that ed was a minute wasted.

Obey Noble absolutely. There, that’d let me do a lot of her punishment manually. Solid.

Don’t do anything Noble would dislike. And that should take care of any resistance.

As I gestured permission for Sandra to get on with the cocksucking, just to shut her up so I could think, I drummed my fingers and thought. At last, right as Sandra’s cheeks were bulging with a fountain of fresh cum, I got it. My fist pounded on the table top in triumph; startled, Sandra’s head pounded the table bottom. She inhaled some of my spooge and fell on her ass, making this disgusting noise as she tried to expel it. I left her to figure it out as I brought up the command module and put it one last command.

(Oh, and relax, Sandra was fine. She belched up the cum and happily got right to work on the dishes. So chill. I was the one who had to listen to the whole gross affair.)

“Whoa, Jordana, what, ah… What are you, you know…” When she didn’t answer, Clark had to finish what he was undoubtedly sure should have been a very obvious question. “Wearing?”

Jordy frowned as she pushed the elevator button for our floor. “What.”

“No, nothing, just… um… Did you lose a bet, or…? Not that you don’t look… yeah.”

“You saw that dress Sandra wore Tuesday. I’m just trying to keep up with office trends is all. It’s never a bad idea to try to impress your boss.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Just… you don’t think you might be, I don’t know, taking it a little… far?”

“I like the way I look,” Jordy lied. Then, giving me a malevolent side eye, she elaborated. “I have these huge titties and a hot little ass, so I’d be stupid not to try to use them to my benefit. Don’t you think, Noble?”

I looked her over, even though I’d picked out the outfit myself. Tuesday we’d laid our trap. Wednesday and Thursday she’d taken personal days. (Lord knows HR was cool just giving her as many as she needed, after all.) It had given her the opportunity to stay home and get programmed. Unlike our boss, who’d been trained in her office by day, Jordy had gotten around 60 hours of nonstop Knifing. Today, Friday, was launch day. I’d put her through hell, show her what a bitch she’d been, and then show her what a decent guy I was by giving her the Sandra treatment after work. She’d have one bad day, and then she’d be so thrilled to be working under me that she’d thank me for giving her the opportunity to give me a little thrill. Our boss swore she’d never been happier, and never could be happier. Soon, so would Jordy. But I deserved one little day of comeuppance first.

The pigtails had come right off the questionnaire, tied with big red bows. They matched her top, a red halter that was stretched tight over her massive rack, so much so that if you looked closely you could see her nipples making a break for it whenever she took a breath. Then, after the whole of her bare and surprisingly toned stomach, was a bright yellow mini skirt that only covered her ass because she’d been allowed to decide whether to wear it low enough to conceal her ass or high enough to cover the top of her pubic mound. I’d been hoping for the former, but since I didn’t give her any clear indication of my preference, she’d been able to follow her gut and go with the latter. The creases of the start of her ass cheeks were plainly visible. Then there were the platform sandals, adding a good five inches to her height, and also rendering it impossible for her to take anything but the tiniest, jiggliest steps.

“I think you look like a McWhore with fries and a shake, and I think you’re going to get fired.” I shrugged. “But totally agree about the T&A.”

Clark laughed, and high-fived me behind her back with an appreciative but still thoroughly judgmental look at Jordy. He got off on his floor, leaving the two of us alone in the elevator. I’d texted her an order to be at work before I got there and wait in her car, just so I could savor that moment.

“You do look hot, though.” I reached down under that short to swipe a finger up her crack, but she squirmed away.

“You can’t just feel me up whenever you want,” she said.

I was surprised to see such resistance. “Let me feel you up whenever I want,” I ordered.

With her lip thrust out—a sexy as fuck pout in those pigtails—she nodded. “OK. Since I don’t have a choice.” She turned and presented her backside, this time not resisting at all as I took a second stab at it. (Stab? Because of the Knife. Get it?) I understood why she’d fended me off, then. Breaking her like that was so fucking hot. She wasn’t resisting; she was playing hard-to-get, because we both knew it was pure play. She wasn’t doing something I would dislike; she was setting me up to do something I had discovered I liked very much. Kudos.

Holy shit was she wet. I hadn’t even meant to poke my finger that deep, but her whole crotch was a swamp. In fact, “Holy shit you’re wet. I didn’t even mean to poke my finger that deep, but your whole crotch is a swamp.” There. No sense holding it in.

“Yeah. I know. I have no idea why—or rather, I suppose it’s your fault. Something you did to me, however you’re doing this.”

“Crazy, right? Well, this is what you get for cunting out on me. You’re getting one day in the penalty box, and then, after work, I’ll give you a chance to convince me to call it off.”

“Which I’m sure won’t be degrading at all. Since you can apparently do anything you want to me, wanna just put me on my knees and make me suck your syphilitic dick and say pwetty pwetty pwease? It’s all going to be bullshit anyway, so why don’t we just cut to the chase?”

I withdrew my hand and wiped her pussy slime off on her shirt. Well, part on her shirt, part on her tits. Not my fault there was more boob than fabric. OK, I guess it was my fault, but still, fuck her. “Now when the doors open in a sec, how about you skip to your office. Just to show what a good mood you’re in. , as far as anybody but me and Sandy are concerned, you’re trying something out and if you’re encountering negative or unwanted attention, you’re determined to see it through for the day.”

She scowled. “If I skip this, my breasts are absolutely going to pop out of my neckline. Like instantly. Assuming these idiot shoes don’t make me fall and break my neck.”

God, she was good. Again, she knew she had no choice, and again, she was giving me the satisfaction of struggling futilely. If she kept this up, I might make her wait the weekend to be gifted that Sandy smile.

No. I’d promised myself not to let the temptation get to me. Jordy might be a total bitch, but me, I was a nice guy. One day, and then we cheer her up, permanently.

“They’re not breasts. If you’re going to dress like a slut, talk like a slut. And for your first fuckup of the day, you just lost ‘boobs’ and ‘tits’ too. And do your best with the shoes.”

“Awesome. Well, here we are. Time to show the whole department my… my… boobies.” She shuddered. I was trembling. Quivered. The elevator doors slid open and, after a prompting pat on her behind, off she went.

I ired the sight of her ass flopping and bouncing in its thong as she skipped down toward her office. I stopped by Sandy’s office for a quick booby honk and a chance to briefly bask in her radiant, worshipful beam before heading back down to my new office. (It was basically a closet, but we’d arrange for me to swap with Sandy’s before long. Baby steps.) By the time I logged in, I’d already been invited to a Slack thread about Jordy’s outfit. There were queries if anybody had gotten a pic, and eye witness s of her trying to cover her exposed tits. Clark was on it, and shared what he’d learned in the elevator.

I sent a screenshot of it all Jordy’s way. You know, just to be a dick.

I didn’t want to hold off for too long, though. If we were doing this, we were doing this. I sent her a text before too many guys had a chance to put their foot in her door and try to chat her up.

Your morning assignment comes with options! 1) pacifier (no taking it out to talk except to thank someone for a compliment). 2) ask 5 guys for their opinion on your outfit. like “is this too slutty” kind of thing. make sure they feel free to be totally frank. 3) come down to my office and invite me to motorboat you :D

After a moment, it showed she was typing a response. I hummed to myself, waiting. I’d loved the look in her eyes when I tucked the pacifier in her purse in the parking lot, not explaining what it was for. But only an idiot would be rooting for anything but the motorboat. Those boobies… ho boy.

I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is there a wrong answer…?

Oh man, that got a belly laugh out of me. Sandra was nearby and heard me, stepping into my office and laughing with me obviously, just being a ive manager/cuntslave. Then I showed her the text, and once she had an actual reason to laugh, she laughed harder. Finally, I wrote back to Jordy that I didn’t care which she picked, but no shortcuts, and to come tell me once she’d made (and if applicable, finished) with her choice.

About a minute later, I saw Jordy in my doorway. Sandy, wearing an attractive but decent women’s suit, smirked at our subordinate. “Wow, didn’t think you’d go right for the mo—”

And without a word, Jordy popped a pacifier in her mouth. Her eyes sparkled defiance. Then she caught herself giving a little suck, like a whorish adult Maggie Simpson, and she fell against the doorway, gobsmacked by the wave of arousal. She couldn’t speak—that was the rule—but I could see the question in her eyes. How does this feel so hot?

I knew how. That was the final piece of her programming. Simple, like Sandy had advised me. Two simple sentences: Humiliation makes me horny. Being horny is humiliating.

Would it create some sort of self-reinforcing loop of arousal and despair that could eventually break her mind altogether? Maybe. Not in a single day, though. Probably, at least. It was poetic, I thought. Jordy had been such a giant bitch to me, and now, like… yeah. Take that. Ya bitch.

“It looks good in you,” I joked, triggering a fresh wave of hysterical laughter from Sandy. I don’t know what it was, but I was starting to really enjoy her company, even when my cock wasn’t inside her.

Jordy flipped me off. Before she could storm off, though, I stopped her with a raised finger. She froze like I’d hit her with a taser. But, you know, without the convulsing. What? she gestured, still unable to speak around her pacifier.

“Now pick a second task from the list. If you’re not up for wrapping those things around my face just yet, then I want a written report of each interaction. Try to make it something I’ll enjoy reading.”

Her jaw clenched. Then, adorably, she gave her pacifier an unconscious suck. Jordy’s eyes shot wide in dismay, and away she went, mincing along in her giant heels.

“You look extremely aroused, Master,” observed my boss. “Would you be willing to let me pleasure you? Jordy is doing such a bad job that I hate to leave your satisfaction up to that frigid brat.”

“You’re a doll, but I want to save this for her. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

She sighed, with a longing smile for my crotch, and excused herself. If Jordy was fast developing a sense for when to put up some token resistance for me to break, her co-cuntslave was getting pretty smart about when I wanted to hear her beg, and when to take no for an answer. I was getting pretty good at this whole “Master” thing, if I do say so myself.

Jordy returned a while later, right as I was getting ready for lunch, with her report in hand, typed and printed. I crumpled it up and threw it in my wastebasket unceremoniously. I missed, so she had to stumble over and throw it away for me. It would displease me if she didn’t, she judged, rightly. “I’d rather hear you tell it. Go on, take out your pacifier before it fuses with those pretty lips of yours.”

She snatched it furiously and slapped the glistening baby toy down on my desktop. “Then why the hell did you have me type up a report?!”

“Oh, because your time and energy are worthless to me. Come on, amuse me while I eat.”

Jordy frowned. She fidgeted. At last, slid her panties off and kicked them off her ankle, taking three tries before they made it around those platform shoes of hers, and then sat down on the edge of my desk beside her pacifier and spread her legs wide. Her pussy was so wet it was hard to believe she hadn’t pissed herself, her whole crotch moist and glistening, even a bit down her thighs.

I realized her misapprehension, and snatched my lunchbox out of my drawer. I fished out my egg salad sandwich. “Uh, I mean while I eat my lunch, ya ho. Good grief, that’s all it takes to get you to spread your legs for a guy?” Blushing, she slid back down to her feet and bent to retrieve her underwear. I plucked it out of her hands and tossed them in the wastebasket, too. “Nah, I like you better like this. In fact… Look me in the eyes and tell me that cheap sluts don’t wear panties.”

She gritted her teeth for a moment. “Cheapslutsdon’twearpanties,” she mumbled in a rush.

“No no no. Like you mean it.”

How hard would she hit me if she could, I wondered. “Cheap sluts don’t wear panties,” she said, like she was stating an obvious fact.

“Better. Now say it like a cheap slut.”

After a brief moment of consideration, she turned around and lifted her yellow skirt over her bare ass and bent down, looking at me upside down between her thighs. She shook her ass so hard it clapped, repeating, “Cheap sluts like me don’t wear panties, Master!” and then giggled like the world’s dumbest whore.

It was maybe the hottest thing I’d ever seen—and I’d seen Sandy come herself into a stupor just from getting a facial. I was still thinking about it as I let her proceed with her report, only half-listening.

First she’d asked Ben if he thought her skirt made her butt look too fat, which he said he didn’t, to which she pressed and asked if he thought it made her ass look fat in a good way, to which he stammered out… something. I was barely listening—god, that ass. I wanted to see it again, so I told her to fish the report out of the trash with her mouth, making sure everything was positioned so I got a proper show out of it. I could only barely make out her grumbling something about her discontent about having to move her soggy discarded panties out of the way with her mouth and how gross they tasted. From the smell she was flooding my tiny office with, I very much suspected I would disagree.

She read from the de-wadded paper then, next about another chance meeting with Clark. This time, she said she apologized if she’d given the impression she’d been flirting with him in the elevator, how when she dressed like this—which she lied that she did all the time out of the office—guys always thought she was flirting, when really, it was just her way of boosting her self-esteem. Was he mad? she’d asked. He was not.

Sandy popped in as she continued, but I had her just stand behind me and rub my shoulders while I ate and not interrupt. Jordy, sneering contemptuously at her and doubly so at me, went on to describe two more rendezvous, one guy getting a question about whether he thought she would benefit from getting a booby-biggening surgery. (I had to interrupt to ask what the fuck she was calling it that for, only to be reminded that I’d taken all the normal-ish tit words from her. Oh yeah.) Anyway, he deemed the procedure unnecessary. The other was told she was thinking of getting a booby shrinkiotomy, “or whatever you call it” giggle, and was told she’d be crazy to do it. Finally, as she was recovering from the degradation of inviting a man to tell her he thought her titties were the perfect bigness, a guy from the mailroom came up with a package.

“I asked him, ‘If you were my boss, would you let me dress like this every day?’ Then he stared at me for a long time with this slowly broadening shit-eating grin and replied, ‘I’d sure be willing to let you talk me into it.’ He asked me for my number, and I told him I was seeing someone but maybe if things didn’t work out. The kid started a while longer, then left.” Jordy looked up at me, eyes glazed with various emotions but anger narrowly edging the rest out. “And that’s five.” She once again crumpled up her report and once again threw it in the trash.

“Well done, Jordy. Well done.” I made a show of checking the time on my cell phone. “Oh hey, lunch hour’s almost over and you didn’t get anything to eat. So I was thinking—”

“If you’re going to make me suck your dick just say it. You’re not clever. You were never clever. You probably never will be.”

Sandy kneaded dutifully. “Master was clever enough to break your mind in a day, Jordy. I think you don’t give him enough credit.”

I patted her hand, then pulled on it until she caught my drift and glided down into my lap. I could speak for myself, though. “Dang. You really took to the whole slut gig pretty easily, I gotta say.”

“I’ve given head before. I never loved it, but it’s whatever. And lucky for you, I’m pretty much horny enough to fuck a bum, and you’re not that much worse. Plus—and I’ve been looking forward to telling you this—I won’t even do a good job. I’ve been told more than once that I give shitty blowjobs even when I’m trying on a guy I don’t even hate.” She laughed coldly. “So am I doing this, or what?”

Man. Having her cave so easily was actually sort of harshing my mellow. “OK, how about another choice?”

She rolled her eyes. “So you’re choosing to have your cake and make me eat you, too? Awesome. Now what.”

Sandy chimed in. “She has such a poor attitude, Master. May I please suck your cock and give you my virgin asshole and put her to work turning tricks on street corners, so she can at least put that lovely body of hers to some actual benefit for you?”

I patted her butt comfortingly. “Not yet, boss. Now come on, Jordy, you said you liked anal. And I gotta say, I’m loving the way your ass looks in that skirt.”

“More like you’re loving the way it looks hanging out of this skirt. Slutty piece of shit.” She tugged it down, frowned as her pubic hair emerged into view, and tugged it back up. “And if you want me to invite you to fuck my ass, you can go to hell. You can make me do it, apparently, somehow, but you can’t make me cooperate of my own free will.”

“Twenty bucks says I can.” It raised some philosophical questions about whether she even had free will any more, but really, I only contemplated it far enough to decide that if she did, she wouldn’t for long. Not with a sourpuss attitude like that. “But fine. Don’t want to blow me, don’t want to get your pucker poked, fine. Rub those fat titties of yours in three guys’ faces. Then come back to me and we’ll see if you’re interested in keeping your job.”

“You can’t fire me, asshole.”

“But I can,” interjected Sandy. “And the only reason I’m not is that for whatever reason, Master is permitting you another opportunity to earn your place in his harem. I suggest you take it.”

“What is your sick obsession with motorboating, anyway? I know I said I hate it—and I do—but seriously, are you twelve? You can obviously do anything…” Her eyes slid shut, and she licked her lips unbidden. “Anything you want to me. But instead you’re fixated on this one stupid thing, and you’re not even the one I’m doing it to.”

Without asking, I reached out and casually lifted her skimpy little top over her boobs. Fuck they looked good. Well worth the wait. I snapped my fingers—only that, and nothing more. After a momentary sigh, she stepped forward, plunging my face between them, and after a moment, twisted her torso back and forth, her massive tits smacking me back and forth like we were having a fleshy pillow fight. She was over-doing it, and I heard it when Sandy smacked her employee’s half-bare butt to rein her in. After that, she did it right. Slow and slutty slapping, no more, no less.

Finally, when I was convinced that another slap or two and I’d not be able to stop myself from fucking her in whatever hole my cock found first, I pushed her away. She slumped back against the wall, trembling. I was feeling it, too, but at least I still had some self-control. Not Jordy. Her feet toddled apart and a hand went between her legs. A moan escaped her lips as her fingers slid inside her.

Sandy grabbed her wrist. Jordy was too dazed to react as her boss held out her hand and slapped the back of it, like a nun punishing a bratty second-grader at Catholic school. “Master didn’t give you permission,” she said sternly. Still smiling, but only at me.

“Uh, right. Yeah.” Then I had an idea. “You can go do it in your office.”

The humiliation to arousal to humiliation loop must be doing its work, because Jordy only nodded numbly. “O-Okay.”

She had a hand on the doorknob when I finished the command. “Leave your door open a crack. And take your time about it.”

As I closed my eyes and permitted an extension of that massage from my boss accompanied by an adoring hum that made me think of what a song from a kitten would sound like sung entirely in purrs, I pictured Jordy jilling herself like the queen of guttersluts. I prided myself on not coming then and there.

It didn’t take a genius to see she was pretty thoroughly broken by that point. I kept at her, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t about to treat myself to a day of exacting justice on a nemesis without going all the way. But when I stopped by her office to show her the pic somebody had posted to the new Jordy-dedicated Slack chat—a beauty of a shot, both of her heels on her desktop, thighs spread wide, working her pussy with both hands—all she did was whimper, and start to play with herself again, and start to cry.

I’d already decided to try out some girl on girl action, so I made it a point to squeeze that in. Turns out, for all her posturing and calling me a bigot, she was one herself, bigtime. Jordy dragged her feet as much as my programming let her, wrinkling her nose as she undressed first herself and then Sandy, making sure to include a lot of unnecessary but smoking hot friction but grimacing all the while. Our boss was beside herself with the opportunity to get another taste of my cock, but Jordy actually pleaded to be allowed to do it all by herself—not out of any sort of kinky but understandable zeal for blowjobs, but because the idea of making out with another woman around my dick apparently grossed her out. Fucking homophobe! I should have known. Projecting her own character flaws onto me. Classic narcissist. Good thing she had me around to help fix her.

Sandy made sure I plastered her co-cuntslave’s tits but good. I gave her the option of wearing it on there for the rest of the day or having Sandy lick them clean. She chose the latter. Maybe she wasn’t a total homophobe after all. Jordy traipsed out of my office afterwards in a daze, so distracted by the hornies she was literally stumbling into walls like Jenks at a frat party back in our glory days. Her tits were still glistening with spit, and yes, more than a little cum she didn’t seem to have noticed. My Sandy knew how to read me so good.

By late afternoon, there were two s on Slack of guys who claimed to have copped a feel and not been rebuffed; there were also, in a separate chat, numerous complaints from Elisabeth and some other women on staff and even a few bitch-ass men about the skanky way Jordy was carrying on. Sandy was sitting on my lap feeding me peeled grapes while I fingered her with one hand and browsed with the other. Indeed, she confirmed, as we’d anticipated it was going to be hard to justify keeping Jordy on staff after today. If we didn’t fire her, one or both of my cuntslaves might have to perform a few sexual favors for the boys in HR herself to get away with it.

On my order, our boss gave the staff (minus Jordy) permission to head home a bit early and get started on the weekend. I waited until the office was cleared out, double-checking offices, the meeting room, breakroom and bathrooms until I was sure we were alone. I wanted to be able to get noisy if the situation called for it.

It was time. I positioned myself a short way outside her office and texted Jordy.

Come.

I could hear her moan as she interpreted it both ways at once. It was so fucking hot. As much fun as we’d had today, I couldn’t wait to make her like Sandy so I could hear her make that sound all the time, every time she succeeded at pleading for me to use her.

After a moment, she stumbled into the hall, cheeks flushing as she realized I’d overheard her explosive orgasm. Her expression darkened. “Cute.”

“That you are, Jordy. Sandy wanted to talk to you about your performance today, and she asked me to sit in on it. I guess since I got the promotion you thought you’d stolen from me.”

“Just fucking fire me, my god,” she groaned, but she was following on my heels lie a good little puppy. “Obviously you’re pulling her strings, however you’re doing this. So just fire me and put me out of my misery.”

“Oh, and strip,” I added, disregarding her entirely. “But keep the shoes.”

Another snap of my fingers, and she interpreted, correctly, that I meant for her to take her clothes off while she walked, stumbling along behind me as she lifted her top over her head and shimmied out of her skirt. Rather than make herself trip over it, she raised the skirt over her torso as well. I heard it rip when she forced it over her shoulders, but oh well. Not like it would cover much less ripped than it had whole. It was abandoned on the hallway floor with the rest of her clothes.

Sandra was waiting on one side of the meeting table, where I ed her. This was going to be so sweet. A few final torments just to fuck with her, and then we could laugh it off together and put it all behind us. We’d Knife her throughout the weekend to put a smile back on her face—forever—and that would be that. Honestly, I was barely still mad at her by this point. Watching Jordy hate it but unable to resist was every bit as hot as Sandy’s boundless servility, but I’d made myself a promise. Happy cuntslaves all.

“Have a seat, Jordana,” our boss said sweetly, gesturing to a chair. A thin stack of paperwork sat on the table before her. Such a nice lady, using this broken cuntslave’s old name just to make her feel at ease.

She accepted the offer. Not like she had a choice. “So he’s having you fire me for him, huh?”

“Yes and no, dear. Since you seem to want to dive right into things, Master and I have conferred. We agreed that you can’t exactly continue working here at ACI given your countless indiscretions today. There have been numerous complaints. Elisabeth, for one, is frankly apoplectic over your behavior. Exposing yourself, sexually harassing coworkers, your flagrant violations of the dress code, walking around reeking of pussy and speckled with cum…”

“You licked it off of me.”

“I licked most of it off of you, but you’ll no doubt agree that it suggests something about your level of professionalism that you failed to address my omissions. There have been complaints, some of which could come with legal consequences for both you and ACI if the company fails to take action. Since Master wishes to continue working here for the time being, I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Fine. I want to be as far away as I can get from the two of you psychos anyway.” It was hard to look gruff naked and in pigtails, but Jordy did her sluttish best.

“Unfortunately—for you, I mean—that can’t be allowed, either. You belong to Master now, the same as me. Luckily, we are owned by a gracious Master, and he’s decided to consider you for another position. A position that, to my mind, is a serious promotion.”

I cut in, smirking almost as broadly as Sandy. “It turns out, my position entitles me to a personal assistant. I read the fine print, though, and it doesn’t say that I can’t get a live-in personal assistant.”

“No,” whimpered Jordy, barely audible even from across the table. “No. Please. Have mercy. Let me go. I’ll fuck you—you can fuck my ass—motorboat your cuntslaves big bouncy bobbly boobies!—anything! But don’t do this. Please, Noble. Please… Master. Please don’t—”

I held up a hand. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the word, much less the thought.

“Now, the upside is, you get to see to my every need, mornings, evenings, nights and weekends. Sandy will cover days, plus whenever I have her over for companionship.”

“Which I hope is often, Master,” she added warmly, beaming ingratiatingly.

“Publicly you’ll pretend to be my madly adoring live-in girlfriend, so people don’t freak out like I’m keeping you captive or whatever. Privately, you’ll be my dutiful servant. Do you cook?”

“I can make spaghetti,” Jordy mumbled.

“You’ll learn to cook. You’ll clean for me, spick and span, every day. You’ll bathe me. Massage me when I’m stressed. Yardwork, errands… Really, whatever I don’t feel like doing, and whatever I feel like having you do to me. And of course, you’ll service me sexually.”

“Please, Noble. I’m begging you. Please don’t—”

I cut her off. This was all just a prank, anyway, so may as well sell it by acting like I was some kind of jerk. Not that she seemed to be able to tell the difference. B-word. “The only problem is, like you just hinted at, I don’t know that you’re qualified. Now, ordinarily I wouldn’t consider hiring someone who doesn’t have at least five years experience cuntslaving, but you’re a… What are you. Not a coworker any more. Not a friend. Hm. You’re a hot piece of T&A I like looking at. So I’m willing to train you.”

“More than he has already,” Sandy joked, laughing for a moment before returning to work mode. “But the training won’t be free. So, once you sign here accepting the offer of employment, I’ll break down the costs for you.”

Jordy watched, eyes watering, as the document slid across the table. We gave her a moment to read it over, but it was nothing we hadn’t told her. Agreement to do basically whatever she was told, by me or by Sandy as my proxy. The contract broke it down a bit, like we had orally already. Under benefits, it listed three bullets: room; board; on-the-job training.

“It, um, doesn’t list any, um, pay? Like money pay, I mean,” she said, hand reaching out automatically to accept a pen. Don’t do anything Noble wouldn’t like, and refusing to sign would plainly be something I wouldn’t like. She scribbled out her elegant signature.

“No it does not. But you’re a smart girl, ish. You must have some savings.”

Chin quivering, she penned her name, then slid the paper back across to us. Sandy glanced at it, then tore it in half and slid a second copy of it back to her. “You signed it Jordana,” she said, her tone a gentle rebuke. “Use your real name.”

A moment later, the contract returned. The only markings on it were a single wet spot from a fallen tear, and one word, five letters. She’d even written it in all caps: JORDY. The trembling in her hand made it look like she’d been holding the pen like a child held a crayon.

Holy shit, was she going to laugh her ass off when we told her this was all a big joke. Not the job, I mean; that was real. But the whole living the rest of her life as my humiliation slut toy? If she had the slightest inkling of a sense of humor, Jordy was going to be in stitches. I could hardly wait.

“First off, there’s the matter of learning proper servant skills. I recall you telling me in the past that you have a cleaning lady of your own, and you just conceded you can’t cook. So, to cover instruction in domesticity…” Sandy slid over another sheet. Again, it only took up a small portion of the page, some bullshit legalese she’d cobbled together for what Jordy was receiving, and for her end of the deal, it simply had space for her bank information.

“It doesn’t say how much.”

“It does. Your bank . Or s—if you need another sheet, I have several.” Sandy smiled patiently.

I peeked under the table as Jordy looked up the necessary info on her phone, which she’d had to dart back to her office, naked, to retrieve. Sure enough, she was playing with herself as she filled out first one, then another, then another. Then Sandy zinged her with an addendum form entitling me to any investments she might have. Jordy moaned, and I swear I saw her pussy jerk around her fingers in a storm of arousal.

“Next, you’ll need to learn how to pleasure Master at the level to which he is entitled as sole owner of you,” Sandy went on, ignoring the shuddering, moaning, masturbating antics across from her. “As your current and future manager I’ll be providing much of the instruction personally, but you’ll also be expected to pursue further avenues of learning. Pole dancing classes, an internship at a strip club to learn how to provide a proper lap dance, massage therapy lessons, and so on. All of Master’s needs will be provided for by you at an expert level.”

“You’re going to turn me into a stripper?!” Jordy wailed, moaned, bucked, came.

“We’re going to turn you into a first-class personal assistant to Master. And for that training, we’ll be claiming compensation in the form of…” She held out a hand this time, rather than a form. “Your car keys.”

“M-my… my car? B-but how will I get to… to… to the strip club? Oh, fuck, a strip club, where I’ll strip, for money, shake my hot titties for cash, give Master cash, fuck, fucking fuck, I’ll strip, be a stripper…” She was panting. She’d brought her purse with her when she’d gone for her phone, and fished out the keys. Rather than simply hand them over, she climbed onto the meeting table with them in her mouth and dropped them in Sandy’s palm. Her face then collapsed to the table top, ass in the air and tits quivering on the table as she fucked a phantom cock.

What a drama queen. Good grief.

“Now, there’s one final portion of training, Jordy. Jordy. JORDY.” Sandy gave her a hard spank, but that only made her thrash more wildly.

“Pay attention when Sandy’s speaking to you, Jordy,” I said. And like I’d flipped a switch, her eyes shot open and she turned her head to listen with manic fixation. Her cheek still rested on Sandy’s table top. There was no spine left in her to lift herself up with.

“There’s my trainee. Now, you’ll no doubt be pleased to hear that this final portion is not an obligation, but an opportunity.”

“An opportunity…?” she repeated, glassy-eyed, fighting to listen through the fog of arousal.

Sandy stroked her cheek gently, condescendingly. “Call it a funportunity, actually. Now, since we’ve established that you have a poor attitude and unseemly work habits, and not at all the proper mindset Master’s personal assistant ought to possess, Master is generously providing you a chance to be trained, as he trained me, to be a happy, adoring, smitten, ionately servile cuntslave. To love serving our Master as I love serving our Master. To wake up every day with joy in your heart that he selected you, out of all the beautiful useless annoying stuck-up bitches in the universe, to be his, forever.”

Jordy blinked. “W-wait. Are you saying… I… won’t be miserable any more? I’ll be a giddy little b-bimbo b-bitch… like you?” The way her body kept shuddering, the way she kept slurring and stuttering through her words, I was pretty sure she was so humiliated, so horny, that she couldn’t quite make herself stop coming.

“That’s right. You’ll never have to feel like this ever again. Master will reach into your mind and pull out everything that’s ugly, everything that’s independent, everything that’s—ugh—Jordana. And he’ll stuff you with happiness and contentment and pleasure and adoration, enough to last you the rest of your life. Or until you get unfuckable anyway. If you work hard at it, easily twenty-five, thirty years. Maybe more. Was your mother still fuckable before her ing, would you say? Well, no, that’s subjective. Forget I asked.”

Jordy’s eyes squeezed shut as she groaned out an orgasm that shook her from her toes to the tips of her pigtails.

“So if I agree to give you my entire mind, you’ll take away the shame, the fear, the loathing?” Jordy said softly, looking at me.

“Your mind, and your house,” I said. “But you won’t be needing that.”

Jordy flopped onto her side, thighs spreading, cunt pounding by determined fingers. “This is for real? If I say yes… You’ll really do it?”

“Yep. I really will.”

“And if I don’t… I stay like this?”

I laughed. Should I just tell her I was fooling around? Nah, let’s play it out. “Yep. Forever. You’ll be a weird miserable fuck freak I use as a cum toilet. But hey, before you say anything, I want you to know—I’ll respect your decision, either way. It’s entirely up to you.”

“Oh god, just do it already,” Jordy moaned, crawling across the table and reaching down to undo my belt and the fastenings on my slacks. “C-can you fuck my ass while you start? I’m so horny. Nothing makes me come like a cock in my ass. I don’t even care that it’s you. I just need to come. Need to get fucked. Fuck me. Fucking butt slut. Stripper butt slut. Cuntslave butt whore fuck toy fuck me. Just please…”

I stopped her right before she could lower her needy asshole onto my prick. I kept her there, hovering over it, thighs burning from the exertion of her awkward position, still mumbling pleas and self-depredations under her breath.

“Gotcha, Jordy.”

She peered over her shoulder, frowning. “What?”

“I was only punking you, goofball! I wasn’t gonna leave you like this! My god, what kind of asshole do you think I am? No, better yet, don’t answer. We were just screwing with you today, that’s all. Oh my god, you should see your face right now!”

It was pure murder. With maybe a touch of cuntslave. “You were joking?!”

“You know it. Come on, you do good work here. Sandy can pitch for you, say it was some kind of mental health episode, maybe suck a couple dicks to get the company to keep you on until you forget.”

“It’s the least I can do, Jordy.” She pinched one of her employee’s nipples apologetically.

I laughed at her squirming, at how she still plainly wanted me to fuck her in the ass but she couldn’t get started without permission. “Shit, the more we talked about it, I don’t even know if I want another cuntslave. I can barely satisfy the one I have, much less two.”

Sandy gasped, giggling delightedly. “So… you’re going to release her? I’ll have your service all to myself?! Oh, Master!”

It was awfully moving, I have to say, seeing how much it meant to Sandy. As I thought it over, I decided that was the way to go. Make Jordy forget, or at least pretend to forget, this whole frustrating episode, and go back to her old life maybe just a little bitter about getting ed over for a minor promotion. Maybe once in a while, I’d Knife her again, just for a quick thrill, but… Sandy was going to be enough. I wasn’t the kind of guy to do a girl like this. In fact, as I looked at her already ing Jordy in delirious masturbation, I had a hard time imagining ever wanting anything more.

“Let’s do it. Jordy—Jordana, I should get back to calling you, I guess—I accept your apology. You’re going to be a free woman again before you can say—”

Three dudes in black body armor and face masks kicked in the door and shot all three of us with tranquilizer darts before we could twitch. We were out in seconds.

Turns out, Jenks’s people were monitoring for leaks and whatnot. They’d gotten to him first, only their Knifing methods weren’t as brutal as mine. In fact, when I explained how I’d done what I’d done to Sandy and Jordy, the insights of how to turn their Knife into a Machete might well have been why they didn’t just shoot me in the head and bury me in the desert. So that was cool of them.

I never saw Jenks again. Don’t wonder about Jenks. Don’t look for Jenks. So what? He wasn’t that good of a friend, and honestly, I’m already way beyond bored of thinking about him. Screw what’s-his-name. I was over it.

They deleted the Knife app from my phone, and from all the burner phones I’d told them where to find, and from the three different cloud backups I’d made for the software. I didn’t even mind, honestly. Don’t use the Knife. Don’t talk about Knife. We had a hell of a time locating one of the phones in Jordy’s house, but Sandy eventually found it. The tape holding it to the ceiling fan over her bed had come loose, and it seemed the phone had bounced off her mattress and tumbled under her nightstand. Close call. What a relief to have any and all traces of the Knife gone and out of my life and out of my reach and beyond anything I could ever do or try to do forever and ever and always.

Once they’d finished with the three of us—whoever they were; for some reason I can’t recall any names or faces or locations or voices or any information of any kind that I would divulge to anyone even under torture—they released us back to our lives. Unfortunately, we’d all been fired; the company took a dim view of employees disappearing for three weeks without notice, and what we’d left behind in the meeting room had apparently started a surprisingly accurate rumor that we were some kind of kinky BDSM fin-dom throuple. We were all fired. Worse yet, for cause, so no severance. Nice one, Jordy. You better believe I spanked the shit out of her for that one. Sandy, too, but only because she was so ashamed of her failure to protect me from an armed mercenary black ops squad.

The good news was, with the sale of the girls’ cars and Jordy’s house and an auction on everything they owned worth auctioning…?

I got to go to Cabo after all!

The guys were all worried about where [redacted] wandered off to, but for me, I was stoked to be in the most gorgeous place on earth with two of the most gorgeous women on earth. (I mean, they weren’t actually that hot, definitely 8’s or 9’s. Just let’s not kid ourselves about double digit potential. I’m trying to be charitable.)

They were both of them a hit with the boys, enough that before long, they all forgot whomever I was forgetting as thoroughly as I had. I’d challenged them both to wear a sluttier bikini every day we were there, and they rose to the occasion. Sandy smiled and laughed at everything my buddies and I said as she pranced around in bikinis that increasingly failed to cover the entirety of her nipples, that showed half her asshole when she bent over or spread her legs, both of which happened often. Sandy offered to suck or fuck any of them I wanted her to, just to make sure her Master appreciated the fell breadth of her value to him as a shareable fuck toy, but I was keeping all that to myself. (They got to hear the horny little bitch moan like one when I nailed her, though, which they heartily high-fived me for over morning mimosas.)

Jordy, thankfully, had gotten a little much-needed fixing from… somebody, I forget who and I’m not curious and I wouldn’t care if someone told me and I wouldn’t so much as glance at the words if somebody put their names in print. She’d been pretty close to a full-blown mental breakdown from what I’d done to her, it turned out. So they erased the whole horny/humiliation loop before it drove her insane. (I’d wondered at the time, before I stopped ever thinking about anyone using the Knife altogether, if they were going to return us to our normal selves, but they said we weren’t worth their time. Still, nice of whoever to stop Jordy’s brain from exploding with the whatever.)

So instead, she simply got really horny when she was humiliated. No more loop. Now she moped around our resort with her chin down and her tits forward. I’d firmly instructed her that I owned her body and her pleasure, but the guys still figured out before long she didn’t mind a little squeezing and pinching. Let ’em. They were my friends, after all, and if I couldn’t fix her, couldn’t even think the word of the only thing that could fix her, may as well be a good buddy.

Our last day there, we took a little trip down the coast until we found a nude beach resort Sandy had researched for us. She lauded it as being nearly kidnapping-free since 2019. Sandy wore her dental floss bikini bottoms, to keep some of the sand out of her pussy—smart girl—but the only thing Jordy wore apart from a pair of wildly impractical platform sandals were two ribbons, tying her hair into pigtails.

“It reminds me of the worst day of my life,” she explained, “which keeps me so fucking horny I can’t quite hate being alive from the pleasure overload.”

“Well you look adorable,” Sandy told her sweetly, slapping one of Jordy’s fat bare titties harshly. Then it was off to the beach, just me and my cuntslaves and my buddies and a whole bunch of people who were frankly a lot less fun to look at naked. It was fun to show off, though, and my cuntslaves liked to be shown off. More or less.

“I swear, Nobes, I don’t know how you scored two babes like those. Seriously, what’s your secret? You win the lottery or what?” asked Dobby, settling down on a towel beside mine. (His name was Dan, but we called him Dobby after the Harry Potter house elf because he got so drunk one time he tried to fuck one of the garden gnomes behind the Beta Nu house. Classic Dobby. One of my best friends, someone I respected more than just about anybody.)

“Let them tell it,” I said, gesturing to my girls.

Sandy merely smiled. Smiled bigger, I mean, obviously she was already smiling. It frankly made my face hurt to look at it sometimes. “The heart wants what it wants. And my heart wants Noble. Always. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.” She crawled over, heavy tits swaying mesmerizingly beneath her, and kissed me with pure, unadulterated, endless love. I would have fingered her, but it was important to be gentle. One of our first nights in Mexico we’d gone to some sleazy tattoo parlor so she could fulfill her month-long dream of having CUNTSLAVE! tattooed where her pubes used to be, accompanied by a little yellow smiley face right above her slit. She’d had the worst time trying to find somebody to take that project on back home, but the tattoo guy here hadn’t spoken any English, so he didn’t balk at it.

He hadn’t balked at Jordy’s nearly identical but distinctly punctuated one, either. CUNTSLAVE. And a frowny face, of course. With pigtails. She hated it, but just wait until she saw the one Sandy had pitched me for her chest. She was going to come her bigoted brains out. And teach herself how to edit it out of pictures so her parents didn’t disown her. Or wait—no parents! I’d have to remind her when she got it what a blessing in disguise that was. Still, there had been something about extended family, hadn’t there? She could still photoshop herself decent for them, I suppose. What kind of guy would I be to take what was left of her family away? I was a traditionalist when it came to stuff like that. Every single one of my desert island movies were Fast & Furious.

I gestured for her to crawl over, too, nudging Sandy off my face. My adoring cuntslave curled up beside me, sweaty, sunscreen-slicked body pressed and rubbing against my arm. “How about you, Jordy? What do you see in me? Inquiring minds want to know.”

She scowled for a moment, thinking it over. Some of the guys had worried she was unhappy being there, maybe even coerced somehow, but I’d told them she just had a major case of resting bitch face. I’d invited them to remind her to smile whenever they caught her, which made her juice up every time they did it like a Florida orange being run over by a Florida dump truck. Win/win.

Dobby reminded her presently. “You got that RBI, Jordy—give us a smile, pretty girl.”

Her lips smiled. Her eyes glared daggers. Her pussy dribbled down her leg, as it had been all day. She’d told the boys that she naturally sweated from her crotch really bad just to cover for the hyper-arousal. (Well, that excuse was actually my idea, but just to give her a little dignity. Sandy simply told them she was that horny for me, all the time. What an ex-boss.)

At last, Jordy crawled up on top of me, letting those amazing tits of hers hang down around my face. “He lets me do this to him every day,” she said. And she shook, and she shook. And Sandy smiled. And Dobby high-fived me and left us to fuck for a while. Sandy climbed aboard first while Jordy sat back to helplessly diddle herself. Me, I finally managed to make eye with one of the lazy sows they called waitresses at this resort and improvised some sign language with a demand for another mangorita. Applebee’s made them better, but these were still pretty good.

And to think, these two bitches had almost made me miss out on all this.

(Not that I thought of them as the b-word. I wasn’t that kind of guy.)