House of Desire

Pauline sensed a change in the mood of the House. It had somehow grown darker. Autumn approached, and with the diminishing days came a darkening of desire. Christine's abject pleading for cock was, perhaps, a harbinger of things to come. Or perhaps the shift was just in Pauline, herself.

She had spent three weeks in the House, using up nearly all her vacation and personal time from work. Quite a vacation! It had most certainly been a desperately needed change for her, but it was anything but restful. She'd lost track of how many orgies she'd participated in, how many men she'd fucked, how many cocks she'd pleasured, how much cum she'd worn on her face, on her breasts, and how much she had greedily swallowed. Her maid's outfit now seemed to be a part of her. Her real life was in the House; her activities outside were the fantasy.

So it did not come as a surprise when Sophia approached her, saying, "We have a new member at the door. Young, beautiful, voluptuous, with hazel eyes, pale skin, and dark hair. We have photographed her, and emailed to her a number of photos of you servicing the men. We knew she would be back. She wants to take her place among us, to be on her knees, and used as we are used. "Go now, and greet her. Her name is Angela. You will instruct her."

Pauline was unsure of her ability to fulfill this task. Surely, there were others more experienced, who would be better suited. Sophia, herself, was the obvious choice. But Pauline was willing to make the effort—indeed it was necessary if she was to remain in the House, and in addition. she knew somehow, that this was the next step in her own training. This realization made the sense of her own dark need grow stronger.

Pauline walked down the hallway, and opened the door. She said, "Welcome, Angela. My name is Pauline. You will come with me. We have prepared for you, a bath."

Angela was indeed lovely, oddly shy, but determined as well. She wore a clinging black sweater that accentuated her breasts. The young woman began to protest, saying, "But I bathed, right before I came here."

Pauline was stunned to hear herself chastising Angela, saying, "You will do what is required of you here, or you will leave, now. That is your choice."

The words stung the young woman. She said, only, "I will follow you."

She followed Pauline to the bath, and drank in the scents, colors, and eroticism. While bathing, she seemed lost in thought, her eyes glassy with her growing curiosity and desire. Then Pauline helped her from the tub, helped to dry her, and handed her a maid's costume. "Put this on," she said. I will lead you to the Parlor. Angela did as she was instructed. Her arousal played over her face as she entered the room. The area beneath her throat flushed, her nipples hardened, her cunt moistened as she surveyed the scene. Three women, whom she would later know as Anna, Sophia, and Christine, were servicing dozens of men, pumping and sucking their rigid, throbbing cocks.

Angela murmured as much to herself as to Pauline, "This is what I've wanted..." And so Pauline directed her to a pillow on the carpeted floor. Angela eagerly dropped to her knees, and parted her lips in anticipation. A man approached, but to Angela's disappointment, he presented himself to Pauline. Pauline reached for his cock, and stroked it. He moaned under her ministrations. She dropped to her knees and fellated him, his tool rapidly becoming rigid, as her mouth slurped and sucked on it. She admired her handiwork: the erect shaft glistened, darkened to a purplish red, the veins that ran along it an echo of its owner's muscled physique. It enthralled her.

Then she rose, accompanying the man as he walked toward Angela. The young woman wet her lips, nearly drooling in anticipation. When the two arrived before her, Pauline grabbed the throbbing erection, and thrust it into Angela's hungry mouth. Pauline was astonished by her own ferocity as she did this. She was filled with a mixture of power and lust unlike anything she had ever felt before. Angela eagerly sucked cock, as Pauline pumped it in and out of her mouth. Another man approached Angela from behind, insistently moving her forward onto her hands and knees. He abruptly penetrated her from behind, ramming himself into her cunt, fucking her furiously. He was the first of many.

It wasn't long before the cock in Angela's mouth exploded, sperm flying all over her face. The man who had been in her mouth was quickly replaced by another. Angela now understood the rhythm, and happily accepted the next phallus, and the next, and the next. Pauline felt an orgasm steadily building in herself as Angela's face and hair and tits were repeatedly spattered with jizz, her mouth filled with the white cream.

And so it went, with Pauline the artist, Angela the canvass, as load after load of cum flew all over the woman on her knees, directed by Pauline's expert hand. Pauline began now to understand her own transformation. She had become an instrument, not only for men to use directly, but an instrument by which men could make use of other women. It seemed the ultimate betrayal of her own sex: becoming a mere thing for the pleasuring of men, and for the facilitating the men's use of other women for yet more pleasure. With every jet of semen on Angela's pretty face and body, Pauline was erasing her own identity. Together with all the women in this House of Desire, she was awash in lust and mindless sex, engulfed and consumed by an endless hunger, used again and again, and aiding in the using of others. She existed only in her relationship to cock, and derived all power exclusively from it. Finally, her orgasm washed over her, though her clitoris had not been touched. Her submission was now complete.