Chapter 1
"Very well, girls, you can go," Angela Johnson said airily.
"Thank you, madam," Inga said. She and Brigitte left.
Angela got up from the bed in her red lingerie and moved over until she could see herself in the full-length mirror. She posed, pleased with what she saw. Her semi-transparent robe revealed her wonderful curves and the matching teddy beneath hid her most precious charms carefully from sight. She swung around, her wonderful long legs curved just perfectly, but perhaps, matching red stockings would give that added extra something. She decided to try it.
She slid the nylons up her long legs, caressing herself as she went, thinking how well things were going. Bob had been such a wimp, and feeding those suicidal ideas to him was perfectly natural. After all, she'd only married him for his money. So, reducing him from a wimp to a sniveling, crawling asshole was no more than he deserved.
She smiled as she clipped the first stocking on. She giggled. Having him crawl across the floor to her, begging just to put his face between her tits had been one of the most perfect moments of her life. She'd pushed him away with her high heel, telling him how disgusting he was, how depraved. And three hours later he was dead in the car, engine running, garage locked.
She laughed as she remembered lying in bed, listening to the low purr of the engine, wondering how long it would take.
And not only had she got his money, the insurance had paid up too. They had to, Angela covered all her tracks very well.
She got back up and examined herself in the mirror again. She looked even better, she thought. Stockings really did make a difference. She smiled and gazed over at the television and the boring movie that was on. She slid her hands over her wonderfully massive tits and smiled, wondering if she should call in one of the girls and make her suck her pussy while she watched the movies.
Angela loved the look of anger in the girls' eyes as they were humiliated. But neither one dared to protest.
Lazily Angela swung onto the enormous four-poster bed and propped herself up on the pillows, running her hand slowly over her tits.
She wondered whether she wanted Inga or Brigitte tonight. Inga was more fun, she was Swedish, and an angry blonde bitch. Angela liked to make fun of Inga's tits, which were small. But then Brigitte was better at sucking pussy, she wanted to please more. She was French, and Angela almost hadn't hired her because her tits were almost as large as hers. But Brigitte was so submissive, she'd decided it was worth it.
Yes, tonight it would be Brigitte.
She reached for the bell and rang it twice, the signal for Brigitte. She lay on the bed, watching the movie, wondering if she wanted to put on an all-girl porno tape.
Angela had no idea anything was wrong until the door opened and, instead of Brigitte, both maids were almost thrown through the door and three men came with them.
Angela shrieked and jumped up off the bed. "What do you think you're doing!"
"My, my," one man said, "we got this place right, look at it all."
"What are you doing!" Angela demanded, striding up to him and slapping him across the face. "Get out, men aren't allowed in here!"
"Yeah," he said, grinning at her, "I heard."
He took time out to run his eyes up and down Angela's wonderful figure. His dark, handsome features mocked Angela as he looked from her to the two maids and back.
"This is the perfect set up," he said to his buddies. "No men, no alarm, why the fuck should we hurry, huh? Let's have a great time, I mean, you in a hurry?"
"Nope," said one of the other men, standing over the two maids. He was tall and balding, and he had piercing eyes that took Angela in and made her shiver.
"Well, we sure cased this place out right." The first man went to the window and looked out. "Yank the phone."
Angela could see the lusty glances the men were giving her and the two maids. All of the women were dressed sexily, and the uniforms the maids wore were a mockery of real ones, their dresses were low cut and both maids wore black lace gloves. Little white aprons accentuated the curves of their bodies, and the hemlines were only just below the black of their stocking tops.
"W-what are you going to do?" Angela asked the leader as the third man pulled the phone out of the wall.
The third man was fair-haired and massive, with muscles bulging everywhere. And there was the enormous bulge in his pants that was getting larger as he ran his eyes over the wonderful figures of the three women.
"Done it, Colin," he growled.
"Thanks, Roscoe. What are we going to do?" Colin grinned at Angela. "Well, we've been planning this heist for too long and we ain't been laid. So now we're gonna take everything you've got and fuck your ass off at the same time."
"Noooo!" Angela screamed. "I'll report you! I'll tell the police."
She stopped as she realized that nobody would call, nobody would hear her screams for help because the house was so isolated.
"Hey, big boy," Inga said in her accented English, sidling up to Colin. "What you will do if we say no. No, you don't fuck us?"
She pouted and slid her long stockinged leg over his, pushing it higher, easing the hem of her little maid's uniform up.
"I mean what you do?" She very slowly raked her fingernails down his chest in the gap of his open-necked shirt, then slid her hand over the end of his gun barrel.
Colin stared at the hot little blonde. "Sheeit!"
"Come on, big boy, tell me," Inga sighed, sliding her hand lower, over the growing bulge in his pants.
"Inga, get away from him!" Angela snapped. "This is disgusting! Stop it!"
Inga smiled and worked her fingers over Colin's cock bulge.
"Suppose I say, no, get out, you filthy bastard?" she cooed, her leg sliding over his, her fingers playing with his cock.
"I'll hand you girls over to the police!"
to Angela screamed, standing by the bed almost paralyzed with fear.
"Why will she squeal to the police?" Colin asked, his prick throbbing in Inga's expert grasp.
"Because we are here, illegal," Inga replied. "We don't have, er, visas." Colin grinned at the blushing, trembling Angela. "I think we'd better shut this cunt up, don't you, boys?"
"Ooooh, baby, do something for me," Inga crooned, nuzzling Colin's neck, the hem of her little dress well above her stocking tops. "Show her what she'll get if she's bad, show her on me. I'll be real bad for you, so bad. Please, then I want to get her. Just one night, would be worth going home."
"That bad, huh?" Colin stared at Angela.
Angela had had enough.
"Get out of here!" she snarled and strode forward, heading past Colin and Inga for the door.
She was grabbed by an enormous hand and swung around to face Roscoe.
"You don't go nowhere, lady," Roscoe said, "not till Colin says."
He gripped her arm and twisted it behind her until Angela screamed in a mixture of pain and terror.
"You really wanna show her what's she's gonna get?" Colin said, staring deep into Inga's hard green eyes.
"Yessss!" the little Swedish maid hissed, stroking his face with her gloved hand. "And don't think you surprise me, or do anything I haven't had. I can take anything, anything. And then I get her."
"You got it," Colin said, "but only if you can take it."
"Yessss!" Inga hissed and let him go.
She spun, parading back to Angela in her high-heeled shoes, her long-stockinged legs trembling with the force of her emotions. She sneered at Angela.
"Now you learn, bitch," she gasped and gripped Angela under the chin. "My tits are too small for you? You wait."
"Tie that bitch up," Colin said, then turned to the balding man. "Hey, Jack, get me that riding crop, it's in the van. And the other stuff, and get Glen in, he'll enjoy this."
"Sure, Colin," Jack replied, then went out.
"Now," Colin said, "where's some rope?"
"I get rope." Inga walked out, her little dress flicking around her stocking tops.
Roscoe looked at Colin and he just grinned back.
"Don't worry, she'll be back." Colin walked up to Angela and gripped a handful of her long, flowing chestnut hair. He pulled her head back and grinned at her. "Fuck, you look great."
Angela struggled and wept in Roscoe's iron grip. She blushed under Colin's insistent gaze as the horrible man looked her over. And then his gaze went down to her tits, and Angela gave a shudder of terror. His hand went down, hovering over the lacy material of her gown.
"Jesus, are they real?" he gasped.
Angela nearly went out of her mind. His hand parted the gown and reached for the lacy top of her teddy.
"Nooo, you pervert, noooo!" she screamed and kicked out at him, her sharp shoe toe catching him on the shin.
He winced and growled, his hand gripping the lacy front of her gown. "Let her go, Roscoe!"
Angela screamed as her arm came free, and she lashed out at him. He grabbed her wrist effortlessly and slapped her hard across the face.
"You bastard, you-aaahhh!"
He slapped her again. Her head rang as he let go of her wrist and held her by the gown front.
"You behave yourself, bitch!" he snapped, then slapped her face again.
"Aaahhh! You bastard!" Angela screamed. "You bastard, you-aaaahhhh!"
She jerked in pain and the expensive gown tore a little in his hand.
"Yeah," Colin snarled, "I beat ladies, but you don't happen to be one, bitch!"
He slapped her again, and Angela screamed, sagging to the floor, her legs weak, her face aching.
"Here, you!" Colin snapped at Brigitte who was cowering in a corner.
"Oui?" Brigitte rushed forward, her uniform rumpled, her stocking twisted. "Pleeze, pleeze, I do anything-pleeze, don't hit."
She stood in front of Colin, cowering and shaking, her long brunette hair falling over her shoulders, her fawn eyes wet with terror.
"Anything?" Colin said, pushing the cowering Angela with his foot.
"Oui, yes, anything!" Brigitte gasped. "Open that dress."
Instantly Brigitte's fingers went to the low-cut neck of the dress and opened the button, showing the clasp of her uplift bra and the curving upper slopes of her tits.
"More!" Colin snapped.
Brigitte was almost white with terror as she opened the next button and showed her luscious tit-mounds in the bra-cups to Colin and Roscoe.
"Ohhh, wow!" Colin stared at the French maid's tits, her slim waist, swelling ass and stockinged legs. "Man, we really scored tonight."
He stretched out his hand and ran it over the swelling mound of Brigitte's bra, then up and over her soft tit-flesh.
Brigitte shivered.
"Hey, boss, can I have some of this?" Roscoe stared at the delicious body in the tight little uniform.
"Roscoe, my friend, you will fuck yourself silly. But only when I tell you to."
"Sure, boss," Roscoe replied, then turned as Inga came back in with a length of rope. "You was right, boss."
"That's why I'm the boss," Colin said. "Now, you, you wanna keep your ass in one piece, you do exactly as I say, got that?"
"Oui, yes, yes!" Brigitte gasped.
Colin sat in an easy chair and spread his thighs. "Take my cock out, and suck it, but don't make me come. I come, you get your ass whipped."
"Oui, yes, yes!" Brigitte sank to her knees in front of him, pulling her dress open even more so that he could see her tits better. "You want I open more?"
"Just do as you're told, whore!" Colin snapped.
"Oui, yes!" Brigitte gasped, reaching for the zipper of his pants.
"Well, she been bad already?" Inga asked, strolling forward, standing over the weeping Angela. She shamelessly rubbed her pussy through the dress and the little petticoats that Angela made them wear.
"Why don't you get Roscoe to tie her up where she can watch?" Colin said as Brigitte eased his rock-hard cock out of his pants and gave a moan at the size of it.
There were easily ten inches of prick there, throbbing in Brigitte's gloved hand. She leaned in, and Angela gave a moan of horror as she watched the little maid lick the massive cock, her tongue working over the hard flesh with long slow strokes.
"Hey, you've done this before." Colin chuckled and leaned back in the chair.
Inga glanced around the room and picked out another chair. It was an antique, and Angela loved to sit in it while she made the two maids suck her pussy. Inga's eyes lit up when she saw it. "Roscoe, darling, get me that."
Roscoe brought the chair over to the tall, slim blonde.
"Now we put her on it, kneeling so we can get to her," Inga said, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulders.
"Sure, honey," Roscoe said, and he picked Angela up.