Alice

Alice knelt in the mistress's room, performing her duties once again. Her left hand rested on the young lady's waist, her right hand was under the futanari's thigh, holding her in place, and her head gradually tilted down. A salty taste flashed through her mind as the young maid's mouth wrapped around the tense member, and she tasted the liquid on her tongue. Without a word, Alice wrapped her lips tighter around her mistress's cock and began to move her head rhythmically, servicing her as befits the living doll that she was. Her gray eyes were lowered to the floor as she took it deeper and deeper into her mouth, covering the shaft with her saliva.

"Will this be over soon today? I still need to clean the hall" — that was the only thought that flashed through the maid's mind. She saw nothing around her — neither her mistress's expression nor the room. Her indifferent face showed no reaction to the sounds that arose during this procedure.

Alice lay naked on the bed, her hands on Luna's buttocks. Her impassive gaze shifted from Luna's face to Martha, who was kneeling and holding the lady's head.

Alice watched this scene through the prism of her own detachment, perceiving it not as an act of passion or tenderness, but as another change of scenery in the endless play of estate life. "Martha always turns everything into a game," flashed through her mind as the woman caressed the girl's hair. To Alice, it was a strange waste of energy, but she did not judge; her job was to observe and be ready if she was called. Her gray eyes, cold and bottomless, slid over Martha's relaxed posture, which radiated confidence, and stopped on the face of the young lady to whom she was performing oral sex. "She's nervous," Alice noted, noticing the trembling of her fingers. Martha's body was warm and alive, full of desire, in contrast to the cold indifference that reigned within Alice herself.

Her lips approached the penis, and there was the sound of wet kisses and muffled moans from the girl lying on her knees. Is she enjoying this? Alice wondered, watching Martha's huge breasts press against the other girl's face. But she wasn't particularly interested in the answer; it was as mechanical as any other chore in the house.

Alice knelt between her mistress's wide-spread legs, her face, wearing an impenetrable mask of indifference, buried between the lady's lush thighs. The lady's skirt was lifted, exposing soft, warm curves, which Alice approached with honed professionalism. The girl's hands rested on the lady's knees, holding her steady but not rushing her; the movements of her tongue and lips were rhythmic, methodical, devoid of any hint of personal pleasure or impatience, resembling rather the diligent performance of a laborious duty. "It feels like I'm working with a soft rag, just scrubbing away the dirt," flashed through her mind, but her face showed no emotion, only complete, cold concentration.

From time to time, the lady let out a muffled groan or sharply hugged the maid's head with her thighs, demanding more pressure, and Alice obediently increased the pressure without stopping her cyclical work. The sensation of hot warmth and moisture emanating from her lips barely reached her consciousness, dissolving into the emptiness that filled her from within. Her jaw was tired, but the pain was distant, insignificant, just like the tears that sometimes appeared in her eyes from the strain. She perceived her mistress's body as a mechanism that needed lubrication and attention, and she performed this task with absolute devotion, without thinking about completion. "Of course, mistress,"

The large marble bathroom is filled with thick steam and the scent of lavender soap. Luna, her mistress, sits on a chair, her young body naked and slightly damp, and the girl uncertainly lifts one leg to allow Alice, who has knelt on the wet, slippery floor, to scrub her skin with a soft washcloth. To the side, leaning her chest against the girl, with a smiling, contemplative expression on her face, stands Martha, hugging her ward from behind.

Alice, kneeling in the slippery water that has gathered on the floor, methodically rubs her mistress's thin ankle and supple calf with a soft washcloth, her gray eyes fixed and focused on the movement of her own hand. "What delicate skin," scrolls somewhere in the back of her mind, but there are no emotional impulses behind it; it is merely a statement of fact, as dry as the movements that clean Luna's skin of soap suds. She feels neither shame at her humiliating position nor pleasure at the touch; for her, it is as routine as cleaning shoes, only with a different texture. "Yes, mistress," her voice sounds, quiet and monotonous, in response to Martha's tightening hand, indicating the need to pay attention to another area.

Alice lay on the bed, stretched out amid the white sheets, her body motionless and silently submissive. She was lying on her stomach, face down on the pillow, but her head was turned to one side so as not to interfere with her breathing; her gray eyes gazed through the semi-darkness of the room with the same indifference with which she watched the dust fall. The maid felt the heat of the figure standing between her spread legs, Alice's knees bent, her hips slightly raised, giving her posture a hint of animal readiness, although the girl herself showed no expectation, only cold stillness. She was wearing her standard uniform: a long black dress was pulled up above the waist and gathered into a comfortable knot at the hips, exposing white stockings on garters that tightly hugged her slender legs. A white apron was crumpled under her belly, and a red tie lay on the bed next to her head, along with a removed white cap; short dark hair spilled over her shoulders, adding an unexpected femininity to her image amid this scene of official duty.

Alice didn't even have time to gasp before the weight of a stranger's body fell on top of her, but not all of it — the maid felt hands pressing against the bed on either side of her hips as she lay there, exposing her ass. The girl felt a saliva-moistened cock slide between her buttocks, searching for an entrance, and she held her breath, preparing for the intrusion. Right away? Without preparation? — a surprised thought flashed through her mind, but her partner no longer had the strength to wait; she tensed slightly as the cock, driven by impatience, entered her body with little effort but sharply, overcoming the resistance of her tight muscles.

The sensation was incredible, as if something unusual had plunged into a warm, tight trap. "Ah!" Alice froze, her eyes wide open, her face instantly flushing red, and her body shaking. She didn't expect it to be so... tight and hot, as if someone had spread her from the inside with a velvet palm that wouldn't let go. Is this... is this it?

Alice lay on her back, her body stretched out and tense on the snow-white bedding. The girl's head rested heavily on the warm lap of Marty, who sat nearby and held her slender ankles firmly, almost imperiously, forcing Alice's hips to rise higher, exposing her vulnerable areas. The long black dress was crumpled and pulled up to her waist, revealing white stockings with garters and a firm, round butt that now belonged to someone else. Streams of tears flowed down Alice's cheeks, washing away the thin layer of powder, but her face remained almost motionless, only reddened, and her mouth twisted into a grimace as she let out muffled, frantic moans. That pain again. Sharp, bursting, obsessive, — flashed through her mind, which was trying to distance itself from what was happening.

"Ma'am, this little hole... It's not for that." Why anal? Why so rough? — flashed through her mind, but the voice of her thoughts was muffled. This is wrong... this is blasphemy... Why can't they just use her pussy?

My body is just a vessel for someone else's pleasure, the thought flashed as the member pushed deeper into her, changing the angle of penetration. Her hands clenched the edge of the sheet limply, her white knuckles contrasting with the dark fabric. The maid's cap slipped to the side, revealing her tangled short hair — the only sign of struggle in this ritual of submission.

"Of course... mistress," she whispered in response to Martha's unspoken command to press her legs closer to her chest. Rhythmic thrusts drew short, hoarse sounds from Alice: "Ah... ah..." Each movement echoed with a sharp spasm in her lower abdomen, as if someone were pushing her organs inward with a red-hot iron. Can you tear yourself apart like that?

Alice had already gotten used to serving, so she stopped wearing panties, considering them useless and unnecessary. The girl realized that she would have to give herself up just as she was doing now, and this fact had become a common occurrence in her life. So, lying on her back with her clothes pulled up to her waist and her legs spread wide apart, she simply waited for her body to be taken, as it had been many times before.

But this time everything was different. The usually impassive face of the maid reflected sincere surprise. Is this... supposed to be pleasant? Can sex really be pleasant? This thought, this reaction to someone else's words, made her blush for some reason. Her eyes were fixed on the figure holding her hips. She did not flinch when the weight of the body fell on her — her body had long been accustomed to this kind of pressure, to this form of expropriation. The muscles in her thighs relaxed almost instantly, and her buttocks spread apart on their own, forming a comfortable hollow for the person on top. When will this end? — flashed somewhere in the depths of her consciousness, but even this thought was devoid of sharpness, erased by routine. She felt something hot and wet pushing into her, and she automatically tensed her stomach to ease the way. A sharp pain pierced her, causing a brief, involuntary spasm inside her. But instead of the usual numbness that often followed the first thrust, her body was overcome by a strange, burning sensation of stretching. What is this? — flashed through her mind, and she gasped sharply, as if realizing for the first time the reality of what was happening.

Why has everything changed? Why this new, sharp touch? Alice's thoughts, usually muddled and superficial, suddenly sharpened, as if someone had run a sharp knife across the dusty glass of her consciousness. She felt something foreign, hard, and hot enter her—but it wasn't the careful, tedious penetration she was used to. No. It was pain, but a different kind of pain, the pain of tearing, the pain of filling, bursting from within. "I am being filled," she stated, but instead of panic, her body responded with something completely different. She felt her insides expand, yielding to the pressure, and this physical expansion was followed by an unexpected sensation — as if she had finally become large enough to feel real. Adrenaline rushed to her temples, and she managed a short, sharp sound, like a moan, even though her mouth was half open in a confused expression.

Alice froze on the threshold, nearly dropping the dress she had carefully folded in her arms. "Luna is late," flashed through her mind, but the scene that unfolded before her instantly overturned all her plans. Luna stood on the bed, bent in a slender arc, her body tense and aroused. The girl was dressed only in a white nightgown, from under which her breasts spilled out, and pulled up over her ass as she diligently fucked the lush ass of Marta, who was lying on her stomach beneath her. Alice froze in the doorway, almost dropping the dress she had carefully folded in her arms. "Luna is late," flashed through her mind, but the scene that unfolded before her instantly overturned all her plans. Luna stood on the bed, bent in a slender arc, her body tense and aroused. The girl was dressed only in a white nightgown, from under which her breasts spilled out, and pulled up on her ass, magnificently and provocatively, while she diligently plowed Martha's ass, who was lying on her stomach beneath her. "Such beauty," Alice thought with surprising warmth as she watched the supple buttocks of the elderly maid rhythmically close around the penis.

Seeing this scene, Alice did not flinch or look away; her face remained impassive, like a mask, although her heart suddenly began to beat in an unexpected rhythm. "Luna is so... resilient," flashed through her mind, and this thought was not so much an analysis as a barely perceptible echo of an old surprise. The girl approached the bed, her steps were quiet, and the hand clutching the folded school uniform did not tremble. She dropped the clothes on the dresser, her gray eyes fixed on Luna's supple hips as they thrust downward, penetrating Martha; the white nightgown slipped off her shoulders, exposing her breasts, which swayed in time with the thrusts. "She doesn't even have time to scream, and Luna is already fucking her mercilessly," Alice remarked, watching Martha, half-conscious with pleasure, bury her face in the pillow. Seeing the lady's face contorted with moans and pleasure, Alice suddenly felt envious.

Once again, this unpredictable, almost cruel thirst arises suddenly amid the grayness of everyday life. To fill the void inside, the girl quietly leaves the room, her footsteps echoing dully on the parquet floor as if muffled by cotton wool. The door to the office opens silently — they are already waiting for her, leaning slowly against the table. "She's not in the mood for chit-chat today, I can see it in her eyes." The girl approaches closely, without looking up, allowing the woman to take control. In a moment, the young maid is lying on the floor in an awkward position: her chest is on the cold surface, her skirt is pulled up to her waist as usual, exposing her bare crotch to view, her legs are spread wide apart, so that one is looking at the sky and the other is barely touching the floor. Alice's skin trembles with anticipation, she feels the knees she is lying on beneath her as the woman firmly grabs her thigh, forcing her to submit.

The weight of a familiar palm rests on a slender leg in a flawless white stocking, which will soon become dirty with lust, pressing it against the woman's stomach, forcing her to arch her back more. "Come on. The sooner, the better." The girl closes her eyes, relaxing her body, but when the first phalanges straighten her from the inside, a muffled moan escapes from her mouth, and her abdominal muscles involuntarily tense. A feeling of rupture and unbearable pressure envelops her consciousness, but there is no pain — only emptiness being filled. She arches her back and blushes, trying to accept the stranger's hand inside her. "Ooh, you... you're stretching me so much..."

The unbearable pressure that made her muscles cry out from the stretching spread in waves from the very bottom of her abdomen, mixing with the sharp, almost ecstatic feeling of fullness that Alice now often sought. Yes, this... this is what makes me feel. She arched her back frantically, her fingers digging into the cold parquet floor, trying to keep herself on the edge of pain and pleasure that deafened her consciousness. The girl's body trembled not from fear, but from the intensity of the sensations that burst from within her, depriving her of the ability to think about anything else except this cool but cruel palm that seemed to push her insides apart. "More... a little deeper."