At 8:15 AM, Delilah’s wonderful feeling had turned into a bad one. 

After Mona finished licking Delilah’s pussy, bringing her to the absolute peak of feminine excitement (which was only so much, as the difference between a Mona-Delivered Orgasm and a Cock-Delivered Orgasm was like that between atomic fusion and an atomic bomb—and the difference between an orgasm Delilah had from Sucking Cock [which she had every thirty seconds or so while Sucking Cock, without fail] and Miles Fucking Her with His Cock was like that between a hydrogen bomb and a full-on supernova), she and Mona knelt down onto the office floor and crawled their way into Miles’s office.

He was prepared for them, as always. Legs spread apart a bit, just barely a crack of room between his shin and the edge of the desk so that their tight, young heated bodies would have to press against him to get into position. The silk of their blouses and dresses pushing to one side. Their tall heels clicking together. Their silly young bodies giggling with delight as he played with them using his feet and shins like he might a pair of kittens. All the while the heady scent of his arousal filling their noses, their rapidly dissolving brains. 

There underneath his desk, they sucked their Master’s Cock for a beautiful thirty minutes. Sparkling pink tongues sliding up and down the length of his shaft, small long-fingered hands adoring his heavy balls. Their sexy plush mouths creating a pleasant vacuum effect from interlocking on the head from either side, the two beauties madly making out on top of his Cock. They were nearly as turned on by each other as they were by him.

The whole time his precum leaking down. Every lick made them high, brainless. Every taste annihilated thoughts and memories of life before Miles, replaced with memories of only servitude. Delilah knew, for example, that she hadn't sucked Miles's Cock in college—that they hadn't even gone to the same college—but all the same her brain provided her with regular images of her in a small dorm room wearing designer underwear and giving her young God a glorious blowjob while he played video games. Another memory where she manipulated a cadre of nerds into writing term papers for her and for Miles so that the two of them could go off on a ski trip together and fuck by fire light for a hot four-day weekend in the mountains. 

All unreal, all completely based entirely in fictions Delilah wasn't even reading. And yet slowly these dim recollections became full-on flashbacks until they were fully-fledged back story, hard anchor points which Delilah began to wrap her life, philosophy, and understanding around. 

Miles wasn't just her lover; he was her only lover. He was the first Cock she had ever tasted, the only one she had ever wanted. Sucking him off in the morning at work was a long continuation of a dynasty of servitude that had begun with her own sexual awakening which, more and more, felt like it pre-dated even her college years. 

Had she been a high school cheerleader, being drilled into a locker underneath the stadium by Miles?

It made a lot of sense...but had it really happened?

Did it even fucking matter, if it was what she believed now?

Delilah and Mona once upon a time had a lot non-Miles related brain cells, folds in their brain that had nothing to do with kneeling and sucking cock. Mona even knew Calculus at one point.

Now the only thing she calculated was how long Delilah would hog all of Miles’s cum when he finally erupted. The answer was as much as Delilah wanted. 

When her Master came, Delilah's lips wrapped exclusively around his cock, sucking and surging down and up, knowing that her Master’s Cock was extra sensitive when he came and it was important that his sensation neither stop nor become too intense. She moaned rapturously, feeling his hot seed spray straight into her stomach, filling her with a warmth only rivaled by when he came into her cunt directly. 

When most of his orgasm had passed, and only the small after-spurts remained, Delilah allowed Mona to have her share. This was just mere cups compared to the hot gallon of cum Delilah took in, but nonetheless Mona swallowed them down with zeal and gratitude. 

As they cooed and slowly marveled at His Impressive, Still-Hard Shaft and the unending stream of precum that flowed from it like a fountain, the two beauties talked and moaned to each other. Their soft, silky, lilting voices became interchangeable; they both thought the same things. 

“His Cock is so wonderful.”

“His Cock is the best.”

“We’re so Lucky.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“I know. You’re so pretty. That’s why we get to adore him like this.”

“It’s so fucking easy for us. I love sucking his Cock so much. He’s a God. He is God.”

Now it was time to be a little mean; Master liked that.

“We’re so much prettier than Bonnie. She’ll never get to be back here with us.”

His Cock twitched so hard precum splashed wildly onto Delilah's heavy tits.

“What a stupid cunt. I bet we could get her to believe he’ll actually let her suck him off today. We should make her think so and then beg to suck Daddy off in front of her.”

“He’ll let us. He always lets us.”

This kind of talk made Miles heated—them talking about their superiority, their arrogance, their vanity. If in this world, these two unattainably hot beauties cared about themselves first and foremost, how sexy they were, how hot they made each other, how no one else could touch how pretty they were—then it meant all the more if the One Thing uniting their personalities was that they needed, worshiped, obeyed, and adored His Cock. 

That was Power. Owning their Vanity. Owning their Arrogance. 

Delilah loved being this object of Power for him. 

She rode that buzz all the way out of the office, fully planning on implementing her little “Mock the Cunt” plan with Mona. She exited Miles’s space how she always did—crawling half the distance to the door, then slowly moving upward ass-first in an elaborate yoga-like pose so he could see how wet he’d left her cunt. 

For other women, it would have been difficult to move so gracefully in the tall platform heels that Delilah sported—for her, it was natural as breathing. The folds of her brain that had formally been devoted to useless things like shame or traffic laws were now wired entirely for showing off for Daddy. 

But, outside the office, her plans changed. 

The richest man in the city, Pedro Paolo had arrived in the office and spoke in low tones with Bonnie. Clearly trying to make an appointment and bully Bonnie. Pedro looked like if a fire hydrant had spray-painted itself tan and ran a jewelry conglomerate. Stocky, classless, but obviously rolling in dough.

More importantly, he walked into the office with his wife, Helena Paolo—who was hands-down the most beautiful woman Delilah had seen in her entire life. 

She was exactly the kind of gorgeous that Delilah was. She was tall and tight, her body ridiculously toned, every part of her tiny in all the right ways. Her breasts were heavy and perfect, twin tear drops of fuck-me flesh, with a massive elaborate wave of jet black hair framing an angelic face. 

All that gorgeousness—and she hadn't even met Miles yet. 

Miles, who made Delilah into a living sexdoll, who had made Mona into a walking wet dream, who had somehow de-aged Bonnie without even fucking her. 

What would he do to someone like Helena Paolo?

Delilah’s good feeling evaporated, replaced with sudden fear. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the exact nature of the bad feeling; after her recent conversion from erstwhile appreciator to full-blown worshiper of the One and Only Cock on Earth, she had hardly experienced any bad feelings at all. 

In fact, most of her feelings had been orgasmic. Those that hadn’t been orgasmic could easily be categorized as heat, giggles, or sneering superiority to other women and “men” she came across who didn’t measure up to the exacting standards of her Master’s Amazing Cock. 

This was the first woman that Delilah had ever seen in her entire life who had made her feel ignorable. One look at Helena—and how Helena looked around at the office—and it was clear that she gave negative fucks about anyone present. That included Delilah.

Little more than a week had passed since Delilah had transformed into the perfect office fuckpet of Miles Abram.. Delilah had spent that week sucking his cock, being fucked, cleaning and cooking for Miles at his apartment in the skimpiest lingerie possible, and cheering Miles on while he fucked and mindfucked the dead sexy Mona. 

“Now see here,” said Pedro. “You’re going to let me in there, now. I don’t have time to waste. I’m not going to spend any more of it talking to some bimbo who’s talking to me about a meeting he’s having. Those two—” he pointed at Delilah and Mona, “are not critical to this city’s planning! Don’t lie to me.”

His wife seemed to be rather amused with his blow-up. He stormed past Bonnie, who protested meekly, knees wildly pressing together to hold in what Delilah assumed was several hours worth of needing to cum. 

Helena followed after him, eventually, clearly bored. She looked used to being bored with him. Delilah gulped as the door clicked shut behind her; that gorgeous bitch was about to become really unbored, that was for sure.

“Who was that?” Mona asked. 

“Pedro Paolo is the richest man in the entire city,” Bonnie explained. “His wife is some model fresh on the scene. I think they married out of the country; she was too young for a marriage here until just a few months ago.”

“She’s eighteen?” Delilah asked, incredulous.

“Yes.”

Delilah shook her head. “She looks so...put together.” 

Bonnie shrugged. “Some girls get all the luck.”

Mona giggled. “Especially when they’re not old shoes like you, Bonnie.”

As upset as Delilah was, it made her heart melt to hear Mona tearing down Bonnie like that. Obedient. Sneering. Arrogant. Just like Master wanted her. 

That Helena was eighteen threw Delilah for a loop. She had that kind of timeless beauty that some true once-in-a-lifetime stunners had that meant their real age was hard to place. Classic beauty in the cheekbones and nose and exotic in the eyes and lips. Delilah’s pussy was on fire just from thinking about her.

And now that girl—that complete stunner, that bombshell—was alone in the office with Miles. Miles, her Master. Her King. Her Daddy. Her God—her God who she so badly wanted to be Officially Attached to, to be His Wife, His Accomplice. 

His Dark Partner. 

And he was alone in an office with the most beautiful woman Delilah had ever seen, and Miles’s entire deal was making beautiful women realize how badly they needed to Worship. His. Cock.

From inside the office, she heard shouting for a little bit. Then the shouting died out. Then she heard the deep, rumbling tones of Miles’s voice. He was such a fucking man—he could turn anyone over to his side. After about fifteen minutes, the couple walked out.

Pedro, who had seemed like some barely-containable bear earlier, now looked tame as a young puppy. His eyes big, brow heavy with sweat, his face slack and empty. He looked like he might have a stroke. That would make Delilah really hot—to watch someone die who Miles had essentially killed. She would love that; she would cheer him on. 

Anyone who he said had to go just had to go, and that was that. 

As they walked out, Helena deliberately distanced herself from Pedro, going so far as to slap his hand away at one point. Miles’s influence already working on her heavily. 

She strutted deliberately, this sexiest woman on earth, this complete and utter goddess come to life, doing her best to make Miles look at her as she walked away. She turned, smiled, and played with her hair, biting one lip with obviously heated need. 

Delilah looked, and Miles definitely looked. 

He definitely liked what he saw as Helena exited the office. 

Delilah could smell his precum gathering in a hot puddle beneath his desk; the presence of it made her own orgasmic need begin to build. Daddy would need a fuck, soon—but he’d only be thinking of Helena while it happened. 

Strategic, Delilah pulled in Mona and pushed her toward Miles. Mona obediently, automatically dropped to her knees in the office. The same precum scent hitting her harder than it hit Delilah. 

“What’s this about, babe?”

She didn’t answer, pure intent on her mind. 

Delilah bent Mona over on the desk and spread her legs wide. Skirt slid up, tits crushed on the mahogany. Cooing, moaning, she took Miles’s Cock and slid it up inside Mona’s cunt and gave out a soft throaty cheer at the penetration. 

Miles—in the middle of being all-but-autopiloted into fucking the mindfucked pussy of a gorgeous nineteen year-old blonde who would win any beauty contest this side of the Mississippi—barely seemed to register. He was still staring at the invisible trail that Helena had left in his office.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, babe.” He was distant; his mind in the clouds. Fucking Mona like someone else might play on their phone. 

“Daddy, do You want to fuck?”

His hands came down on Mona’s tiny waist. She was so thin his thumbs touched while his digits flexed on the desk. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Fuck…fuck yeah.”

Just as Delilah had suspected, he fucked Mona different. She had seen him fuck Mona for being Mona. She had even seen him fuck Mona for thinking of Delilah, when she was making him hot about all the minds she wanted to fuck up for her DaddyGodMaster—and she so certainly did. 

But this was more brutal. More urgent. More needy and fast. He could hold off from coming for as long as he wanted. Sometimes he did just to make Delilah into a drooling, brainless, ditzy mess for a few hours because he liked to show off his power that way. She loved that too. 

But now he fucked Mona hard. Every thrust powerful. A piston from a heavy engine. 

“That Helena sure was something, wasn’t she?”

His voice was guttural and low. 

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

Delilah felt jealousy spiking; she couldn’t control it. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want Miles to fuck Helena. She did. She really did.

She just didn’t want Helena to take her place. The Favored Place. The Wife Place. The Accomplice Place. The Confidant Place. 

That was what was terrifying. That was what made Delilah decide what to do next. 

“Helena,” he said again, fucking Mona harder. “Helena…Helena…”

Delilah resisted; she Knew what he wanted. But she held out, not saying unless he Ordered—

“Say her name,” he said. “Say You want me to fuck her.”

The violation was immediate and earth-shattering, and made all the stranger and hotter because she couldn’t say no and because Miles said it she didn’t want to say no and she in fact felt pure unrivaled sweaty heat from complying.

“Helena!” she moaned in his ear. “Fuck this cunt like You’ll fuck Helena, Daddy. You’ll fuck Helena. You’ll fuck her so good. Oh fuck her, Master, Please?”

He didn’t last long after that. It was too much. This gorgeous hot dolled-up mindfucked super-beauty begging him to fuck Helena—the Helena who had just fucked up his world and turned his every need upside down.

She watched him from behind, cumming herself, head clearing just slightly as the pleasure escaped her. She watched his hips slowly power down, his big hands running down Mona's tight yummy body, watched Mona's own body unravel itself from the hyper-pleasured yogic clench that his fucking had powered her into. 

Delilah loved Miles too much to let him go to Helena. She had to be the Dark Partner, the Confidant, the Evil Accomplice.

There was something she had in her back pocket, something she had been thinking about for a while now. 

At the end of last week, Miles’s old girlfriend Lily had come to visit and it had clearly thrown Miles for a loop. He even sometimes moaned her name while Delilah sucked his Cock.

Well. Delilah would see what Lily thought about becoming Miles’s mindless fucktoy forever. Then who would deserve to be his Accomplice? 

Delilah. Delilah, and not Helena.

[TO BE CONTINUED]