Taming the Maid by Rival’s Rapture

Sequel to:
War on the 85th Floor

Catfight/Sexfight/Titfight: Two young women, though at first strangers, become each other’s competition, then their rival, then their enemy, then something neither ever expected.

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Delivering one soft kiss after another, Amber stole every last moment with Austin, pressing her lips to his sweetly as she reached down, behind her own back, and turned the handle to the front door of the house behind her.

“Ok… ok… babe…” Austin managed between pecks in the most reassuring voice he could. “It’s only a couple days, then we’ll be back. I promise.”

As her fiancé spoke, Amber’s beautiful brown eyes, which looked like pools of poured honey, glimmered with love and happiness. Her desire to cling to one of the sources of that newly found joy made it hard to stop kissing him. And yet, she did.

The affectionate and curvy brunette using the back of her shoulders to push the door open, and then back into the house. Her eyes never breaking their gaze into those of her tall, handsome betrothed, even as she dragged him inside by the collar of his neatly pressed shirt.

“I know… But Texas is sooo far away,” Amber pouted, her voice still dripping with the disbelief that this was her life now — fancy ranches, pressed collars, a fiancé she never thought she’d land. “Why do we need to buy a stupid ranch anyway? And why can’t Jenn and I come…?” she added, knowing full well that anywhere she was going, her co-conspirator would be right by her side. “We’d be good cowgirls, I promise.”

“Look, honey, I told you! And so did Bennett. It’s just going to be a stop in, take a look at the property, make a few decisions on what we can do with the place, and then go. We’re going to spend half our time on a plane anyway! And you two need to get this house ready if we’re all going to be living here… That is unless we all want to move back into our flat?” The billionaire added with a grin, knowing it was Amber and Jennifer’s plan to move out of that flat into him and his brother’s “getaway” home in upstate New York.

“NooooOoOooOo….” Amber drew the word out dramatically, then huffed. “Fine, you can go… But we’re going to need flowers, and phone calls, and…and…”

With a laugh, Austin promised. “Got it, babe! we’ll spoil you two. Trust me… And if everything goes as planned, you two will be at the ranch so often, you’ll be sick of it. But… but… I really have to go! I’m already late! Bennett just texted me that he’s pulling into the airport!” Half-pleased at just how much Amber loved him, and half-worried that he might actually miss his flight, Austin smiled as he readied himself to run back out to the car waiting for him outside.

“Okay, okay! Go!” Jenn and I will take care of the house, but when you two get back, you’re both OURS.” Amber’s last word came with a playful growl — a promise of exactly what he and his brother would be coming home to.

“Hey, don’t tease me, babe. At least not yet… But find Jenn, huh?” Austin asked, his voice carrying a nervous edge that belied warnings that had been left unsaid. “She’s been alone for an hour, and we haven’t had a chance to get the place ready.”

“Don’t worry, honey. Leave that to Jenn and I. But you better go… Can’t leave all those pretty cowgirls waiting,” Amber needled, her wink almost daring him and Bennett to be bad. The thought of her and Jennifer fending off those same cowgirls sent a spark of excitement up her spine.

“Uh huh, you know that’s not what—” The playboy’s protest died as Amber pressed her finger to his lips.

“Go. Have fun. Take pictures. And videos. And tell them Jenn and I are coming for ‘em.” Amber shot back with a wink. Her tone walked the line between humor and seriousness, giving Austin whatever permission he might need. She sealed it with a playful shove that sent him staggering out the front door — which she promptly shut in his face. Then, with her back pressed to the wood, Amber let out a breathless laugh, eyes closing as she basked in the giddy rush of having the life she always wanted — the brothers she had long chased, and the rival-turned-lover she could never again live without.

With a smirk, the billionaire smoothed his perfect shirtfront and jogged down the exterior stairs to his waiting car. Under his breath, he couldn’t help but mutter, “Bennett and I are the luckiest brothers alive.”

They were, it was true. But Amber felt the same way, especially as she turned toward the redwood floors and soaring glass walls of the foyer. This was no stuffy, cobwebbed mansion from another era. It was a modern fusion of white marble, sleek lines, and the unapologetic grandeur of new money.

All of which called for something.

Amber’s favorite thing in the world wasn’t painting or knitting. It wasn’t a game of tennis or even a long swim in the estate’s glowing, blue-lit pool. No, what she leaned on — what she found wonderful, addicting, and oddly soothing, especially now with Austin and Bennett away — was her true guilty pleasure. Well, at least her favorite thing that didn’t involve pressing body-to-body with Jennifer, struggling and straining until pleasure blurred with torment.

Online shopping.

Amber was planning a spree — a full-on digital invasion to turn the Bowmans’ modern masterpiece into something warmer, something she and her soon-to-be sister-wife could truly call a home. Every lamp, rug, and velvet throw added to the cart wasn’t just décor; it was foreplay. A way for the two of them to curl under a blanket, thighs brushing as they scrolled, barely able to keep their hands off each other even as they built their newly combined life with almost delirious joy.

But first, Amber had to change. If she was going to spend the next two days wrapped up in life-planning with Jennifer, she wanted to be comfortable.

As Amber moved through the mansion the Bowman brothers had spent their last few summers in, a grin spread across her face. She was hunting Jennifer — her rival, her lover. Once a stranger, then a thorn in her side, now the fire she couldn’t stop feeding, the addiction she never wanted cured.

As she walked, Amber realized she could barely remember the how’s or the why’s — who asked, who answered, who reached first or yielded last. None of it mattered. What stayed with her was the moment they chose: to trust, to embrace, to bind themselves to each other. And in that choice, their lives had been rewritten, forever, for the better.

First and foremost, they had found in each other a partner whose very presence lit their days with joy — a soulmate whose touch turned every brush of skin into a promise of ecstasy and calm. And only after that, as if to test them, fate itself rose up as their rival. But together, bound as one, they beat it back — and in doing so, claimed the brothers not as prizes, but as proof that nothing, not even destiny, could deny them when they stood side by side.

Not in some stale, state-sanctioned marriage that would rot when the shine wore off, but in something new. Something alive. Something that gave each of them what they craved — brothers bound as husband and husband, women entwined as sister-wives. On paper, the State of New York might only recognize half the arrangement. But the women’s vows — their shared covenant, their entanglement of fire and devotion — belonged only to them.

Ever since those magical events unfolded, and the carousel finally stilled, reality had begun to creep in, whispering its questions one by one.

When would they have the wedding?

Who would they even invite? And what would they say? Oh hey, we’re in a four-person, basically-open marriage — want to watch us eat cake? Some would understand. Amber’s cousin Renee, Jennifer’s aunt Victoria. But the Bowmans’ kin? Their own parents? That was trickier — a tangle of judgment and whispered questions waiting to happen.

They couldn’t know — not at the wedding, not ever.

And then came the question of roles. What places would Amber and Jennifer carve out in their future husbands’ company? A puzzle made no easier by the brothers’ stock reply: You two can do whatever you want, whenever you want.

Gee, thanks, babe. No roadmap. No guidance. Just the whiplash of going from the average woman fumbling through everyday life to the kind of power player who moves markets and bends cities to her will. Not only did they have to figure out the house, and their new lives, and the wedding — now they also had to invent themselves as capitalist goddesses.

The sheer scale of it all was overwhelming to the point of madness — a tidal wave of decisions and expectations crashing all at once. Both Amber and Jennifer felt like they needed help. Guidance from someone who understood what they were stepping into. Someone who wasn’t new to the Bowmans’ world.

And though they hadn’t the faintest clue who might eventually fill that guiding role, that was a problem for another time. Today’s mission was far more sacred: shopping. Not just shopping, really — but the kind of couch-curled, blanket-draped, thigh-brushing spree that always left her and Jenn laughing too hard, wrapped too tightly to breathe. With that delicious duty before her, Amber set off to track down her soon-to-be sister-wife.

“Jenn!?” Her voice rang through the still-staged, mostly empty halls.

“It’s time to shop, girl! You better not have started without me!” she called, only to be answered by her own echo bouncing back at her.

“Come on, Jenn…” Amber muttered under her breath, thumbing her phone as she started to type — only to realize, too late, that this far out she had exactly zero bars of service.

“Gah… I hope Jenn knows the Wi-Fi password.” The comment slipped out half to herself, half to the empty house, as she wandered on in search of the woman whose hip she planned to glue herself to for the next two days.

The curvy and exploring beauty moving through the house, only stopping when she had found the room that Jennifer and she had decided would be their changing/makeup room. Into the splendor of that barely furnished room, she entered. Not calmly, but in a series of bliss-driven Mary-Tyler-Moore-level spins that ended in the center of the room.

From there, she strolled happily to her already-stocked closet and began slipping out of her office attire and undergarments. In their place, she chose comfort disguised as temptation: a lacy, see-through black nighty she and Jennifer had picked out together — not just for shopping, but for whatever else their wandering hands and fevered hearts might demand.

Amber had only just pulled the see-through nighty over her shoulders, fingers brushing for the thin belt at her waist, when she heard it.

A cry.

A sharp, piercing cry of pain.

Amber knew the voice instantly — Jennifer. Before the thought had even finished forming, she was already on her feet, nighty swirling as she bolted for the door.

“Jenn!?” The name ripped from her throat as she burst into the hall, running toward the sound. Her steps faltered at first, her mind scrambling to lock onto the direction of the cry.

Then another scream split the silence, and Amber broke into a sprint, bare feet slapping against the cool redwood floor. She flew down the hall, heart hammering, until she crashed through the door where the cries had come from—her eyes going wide the instant she crossed the threshold.

“What the fuck?!” In absolute disbelief Amber spoke as she marched forward and towards what she had found. That being Jennifer laying on the floor squirming, pushing with her hands at the seized and squeezing bare thighs of another woman off of her tummy.

A beautiful, thick, sultry woman, half-dressed as a maid. With wrists, legs, and neck adorned, though the dress that clearly came along with the ensemble had been torn off in whatever happened before Amber arrived. Without that dress, and apart from those accessories she still wore, the woman’s entire body was left bare.

“Oh my god, get off her!” Amber demanded, as she neared her lover in peril. All as Jennifer struggled and shifted, her body dressed in a torn and loose white nighty that matched Amber’s exactly.

“Amber! Thank go–OOOWWWWEEE!!!” The trapped brunette tried to greet and celebrate, before her words were cut off by another malicious pulse from the attacking woman’s thick thighs.

“I said get off her!” Amber shouted again, her tone growing more and more hostile with every word spoken.

But the mystery woman remained silent and refused to loosen her grip. She seeming to be entirely focused on inflicting as much pain as possible on Jennifer’s midsection with her unrelenting bodyscissors.

Having no choice, Amber dropped to a knee next to the writhing twosome, and reached out to grab the woman coiled around her companion.

“Wait, Amber, she’ll…” Jennifer tried to warn, but as she did, two things happened. One, this woman, whoever she was, again squeezed her thighs tight around Jennifer’s abdomen, cutting off her ability to speak once more. And second, that same woman reached up, and grabbed Amber’s black nighty. Its delicate and soft fabric tearing at the force, though it held on just long enough to be used to drag the outraged brunette down and face-first into the maid’s naked breasts. It’s wildly expensive threads coming off and landing on the room’s floor in tattered strands.

At that moment, as the taste of the maid’s flesh, perfume, and perspiration coated Amber’s lips, she cursed and raged, her every word coming out muffled and unintelligible. Back and away, the smothered rescuer tried to pull, but found herself unable, as the woman’s arms wrapped around the back of her neck and held tight.

“Do you know what I’ve done for them!?” the woman snarled. “How long I’ve cooked, how long I’ve cleaned—how long I’ve fucked them? Years!” Her voice cracked with outrage, with hurt. “And now I’m just… forgotten? Just the maid to them!?”

Shocked, reeling, Amber could barely process what was happening, let alone what was being screamed at them. Instinct took over. Her hands shot out, clawing for something—anything—to anchor herself. One latched into the maid’s thick, curling brown hair; the other found Jennifer’s hand, squeezing tight as her lover trembled beneath the crushing pulse of the maid’s legs.

“Let go, you bitch!” Jennifer screamed, fury laced with desperation. It wasn’t just herself under attack anymore — it was Amber, her Amber — all while this woman ranted about everything she’d supposedly given their future husbands.

“No!” the maid spat back, her voice ragged with rage and strain. “You’ve ruined it! You’ve ruined everything!” Every word shook with the effort of her grip and the wildfire of emotions burning her up inside.

Amber couldn’t speak — not with her face smothered in the maid’s bare bosom — but she could hear. And when the words sank in, she boiled. Rage surged hot through her veins, and with it she wrenched back on the maid’s hair so savagely that the woman yelped in pain.

Just as she did, Jennifer moved her hands between her tormentor’s thighs, and then dug her bright red nails deep into the crotch of the maid’s exposed pussy. In an instant, one blinding instant of pain, the attacker found herself forced to abandon both her leg scissors and her smother.

Free of the maid’s hold, Amber gasped, collapsing onto her ass against the smooth wood floor at the foot of the bed. Beside her, Jennifer rolled free at last, the maid’s legs unclamping with a final, bitter snap.

“We didn’t do anything to you! We don’t even know who you are!” Amber rasped, still catching her breath, one hand rubbing her throat.

“Don’t waste your breath, Amber! She’s fucking crazy!” Jennifer shot back, eyes locked on the maid — who had already dragged herself to her knees, glaring between them with raw, broken fury.

“My name is Rose! I was the woman they loved before they found you two…” she hissed, eyes blazing with a fire that was half sincerity, half madness.

“Austin and Bennett?” Amber asked, pressing her palms to the cool floor as she rose to her feet alongside the maid.

“Yes. Until you two sluts came around.” Her voice cracked, anger and heartbreak woven tight together. Even now, with words spilling out at last, Amber and Jennifer stayed wary, every muscle braced.

“Well…” Amber began, sympathy stirring despite the danger. “They never mentioned you. And we didn’t—”

She had meant to soothe, to pull the fire out of the air. Instead, her words struck like a blade. Never mentioned.

With a strangled cry, Rose surged forward, fury overtaking reason. She slammed into Amber’s naked body, driving her backward until the two of them crashed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and rage.

There, atop the soft, white comforter, the two curvy, thick-thighed women writhed. Each trying to mount the other, until finally Amber found herself shoved to her back and straddled by Rose. The claws of the Bowman’s used and forgotten help then latching onto the soon-to-be married brunette’s breasts.

And though Amber did cry out in pain from beneath Rose, it wasn’t long before Jennifer fought her way to a stand and began to move. The loose and ruined nightgown falling from her shoulders and to the floor as she moved over to and then onto the bed in a kneel. Once there, and next to the warring pair, Jennifer grabbed for Rose, and forcefully pulled her away from her lover. Securing the maid’s arms behind her back, as she bare ass of the maid pushed back into and against her captors pubic mound.

“I’ll take you both on—you’ll see. I’ll make you regret stealing them….” Rose spat, thrashing against Jennifer’s unrelenting grip.

“Not a fucking chance, bitch.” Amber’s voice cut low and venomous, her eyes blazing. “And we didn’t steal them. So stop saying that.” The sympathy she’d felt a moment ago didn’t vanish, but it drowned beneath the rising tide of her anger—submerged, waiting, as fury surged to the surface.

Emotions Rose mirrored, her eyes narrowing into a hateful glare. The heat in it only climbed, burning brighter and brighter until, with Amber’s last word still hanging in the air, Rose spat—saliva splattering across Amber’s cheek.

“Fuck you!” she hissed, voice shaking with fury but iron in its resolve. “I won’t let you take them from me! I won’t let you drive me away!”

“Drive you away? We just—” Jennifer tried, her voice softer, almost pleading. She reached instinctively for calm, for reason, though inside her own guilt and reluctant sympathy twisted tighter with every word.

“You want to stay, slut? Ok….” Amber declared as she stepped forward, lips curled into a snarl, and her patience already exhausted. “Keep her there, Jenn.”

Jennifer’s face twisted in confusion as she answered. “Wait, what…?” But without answering, Amber instead reached up and grabbed Rose’s bare breasts with a tight grip. Squeezing and digging her nails into the envious maid’s chest.

“FUCK YOU BOTH!!” Rose howled, her defiance twisting into a pained moan as Amber wrenched against her, giving the maid a taste of her own cruelty.

For a moment it seemed the rebellion was quelled—until Rose’s elbow lashed back, sinking hard into Jennifer’s stomach. The brunette gasped, folding with the blow before collapsing onto the bed in a breathless heap.

At the suddenness of Rose’s escape—and with her partner still down—Amber was defenseless when the maid lunged, slamming into her in another tackle. A blitzkrieg of body, breast, and brute force that hurled them both off the bed and onto the hardwood in a bone-shaking thud.

The impact was so savage, so absolute, that for a breath neither woman stirred. The echo of their bodies colliding seemed to hang in the air. In the middle of it, Amber lay sprawled — her vision a pinwheeling haze, lungs burning from being emptied in a single unyielding instant. Pain radiated sharp along her spine, stars bursting behind her eyelids… and yet even through the daze, she felt the weight of Rose’s body draped heavy atop her own.

Breasts poured, pooling against breasts.

Thighs splayed and tangled at their deepest point.

For one raw, suspended instant, their bodies sagged limp in the aftermath of violence—flesh on flesh, breath tangled as tightly as their slick, exposed skin.

It was as if, at the apex of collision, some animal logic had seized them both, forcing each to anchor herself in the other’s cruel, unyielding embrace: legs locked, hips slotted, every shred of hate and agitation condensed into the red-hot pressure of their bare, shaven womanhoods sealed flush at their seams.

Amber was only dimly aware of her own whimper—spilled from her lips like a prayer, sworn in equal parts agony and arousal. The bitter perfume of Rose’s sweat clung to every breath she dragged in, filling her lungs, choking her senses.

But it wasn’t the sudden, electric meeting of their Bowman-fucked cunts that planted the seed between them. It was the stillness. The weakness. The shared surrender that left them breathless, pressed together and bound by the same truth: in that moment, neither could do anything but lay there. Together. Equals, though at odds.

And above it all, Jennifer writhed, rolling weakly from side to side, the air still stolen from her lungs by the servant’s ruthless blow.

A minute or two at most — but it stretched like an hour. An eternity where Amber and Rose lay wounded and witless, breathless and broken, locked in each other’s hold. Until at last, strength and air returned, and with them the fight.

Desperately they rolled across the hardwood floor, a snarl of limbs and hair, each clawing for the upper hand at the other’s expense.

Through the struggle came a torrent of curses and spit-hissed threats, each word sharpened by fury. Rose’s rage that Amber and Jennifer had stolen the men she had fucked and fawned over for years. Amber’s fury that Rose had ever laid claim to them at all.

But as that wild battle continued, and as Jennifer fought to catch her breath, both women’s energy began to wane. Their breasts, tummies, and kittens wetting with an effort-earned sweat as the two pulled closer. Deeper. And eventually found themselves almost completely still. Their every muscle caught and straining against those of the other. Amber on her back and Rose pinning her down.

Hands buried in each other’s hair. Breasts pressed hard against breasts. Rock-hard nipples stabbing deep into the same of the woman they writhed with. Pubic mounds sealed together and without conscious thought grinding.

Barely.

Almost imperceptibly.

But it was there. They knew it. They felt it. And worst of all, they saw the realization flicker in each other’s eyes. Their lips curled into primal snarls, each woman recognizing the truth—that their intimate drags weren’t ebbing—and taking it as a challenge neither could ignore.

“Jealous bitch….” Amber growled low, eyes locked soul-deep into Rose’s.

“Thieving slut.” Rose hissed back, pressing her forehead against Amber’s, their lips a pin’s width apart.

It was in that endlessly intense moment Amber felt it—a déjà vu that struck like lightning. She had found it again. That same impossible magic she’d touched once before. That same gamble that had changed her and Jennifer’s life.

And so, chasing it, her gaze caught the blur of motion at the edge of her vision: Jennifer dragging herself back to her knees on the bed. Amber freed her right hand and, without breaking Rose’s glare, stretched it out—fingers splayed, commanding her to wait.

Jennifer froze. She had meant to strike, to claw Rose from Amber’s body, but the silent command halted her. Breathless, she stayed where she was, eyes wide, watching her lover and the maid locked in their cruel, intimate embrace.

“You… you fucked them…?” Amber hissed, her words dripping with an intentionally thick veneer of admiration and awe. It wasn’t rage she wanted from Rose now. Not defiance. Not jealousy. She wanted something darker, more dangerous—she wanted to stir memories. To make Rose relive the nights she had been their chosen body, their heat, their pleasure.

The moment that trembling question slipped from Amber’s lips, Rose’s eyes narrowed with lust. Images flooded her—their weight pressing her down, their thrusts filling her, their groans breaking in her ear. That intoxicating memory of being everything to them. Power surged through her veins, compelling her to seize control, to show this Bowman whore what they had craved first. With a guttural growl she lifted her hips, then ground them down in a slow, deliberate drag, cruel in its intent, merciless in its heat.

Her breath hitched—then shattered into a moan she hadn’t meant to give. Guttural, raw, spilling out into the narrow space between their snarling lips. Her lashes fluttered. Her voluptuous frame trembled, undone by torment of her own making.

“Y-yesss…” she gasped, the word dragged from her throat, half-defiant, half-surrender.

And Amber saw it. The contradiction. The fracture. The moment where rage bent into something pliable, pliant. Proof that beneath Rose’s fury lay a woman who could be turned—enemy to ally, rival to guide, tormentor to teacher.

“Mmmm… just think of it, Rose. I’ve fucked them both, too. And so has Jennifer.” Amber’s words came low, sultry, every syllable a lure, dripping not with venom but with promise. Each one an invitation for Rose to want something beyond vengeance, beyond pain. Something forbidden. Something shared.

And even as she spoke, Amber’s hand crept free, fingers lifting behind Rose’s back in a subtle, beckoning curl. A come-hither signal aimed at the woman perched above them on the bed. It wasn’t the call to strike, to tear, to pull Rose away like before. No. This was something else. Something quieter. Darker.

Jennifer saw it. She understood. Slowly, silently, she slid from her knees, lowering to the floor and creeping forward like a shadow.

Rose’s eyes went wide, her chest heaving against Amber’s. The words had struck—cutting deep, unsettling. She had believed these women—her enemies—were divided, one tied to one brother, the other to the second. But no. This was something else. Something dangerous. A bond that bled across lines, that allowed and accepted. That invited.

And for a breath, the thought burned through her fury: maybe… maybe they will let me.

But before Rose could question what that dangerous thought meant, Jennifer’s weight pressed down from above. Her full, supple breasts spread against the maid’s back, smothering warmth pinning her deeper into Amber. Then, with deliberate care, Jennifer’s hand slid forward—not to clutch her waist, not to seize her hips, but higher. Wrapping, sealing, closing off mouth and nose from the warm air of the room.

Rose’s head jerked side to side, once, then again. She was already dazed from what churned between her and the woman beneath her, and now the panic sharpened into something darker. She had thought she might not be able to breathe from tension and desire alone—now she knew she could not.

“Shhh…” Jennifer whispered, her voice a soft, almost motherly hush from atop of the 3-layered tiers of struggling and flesh. “We’ve got you now.”

Amber, her gaze locked soul-deep on Rose’s, smirked devilishly. She saw it — how quickly Jennifer’s hand was unraveling their already-distracted rival. How the weight of her lover’s body pressed Rose down, sealing her tighter and tighter against Amber’s writhing form.

The pressure sank like a vice, compressing them into one suffocating knot. And in that narrowing space, Amber’s hips found more rhythm, each deliberate drag made sharper, deeper, and more intense. Their eyes burned together — desperation and drowning desire fused into one unbreakable stare.

“Just give in…” Jennifer murmured, her palm unyielding.

“To us… we need you…” Amber breathed, grinding her cunt against Rose’s harder, her words a lash and a lure at once. Rose moaned, the sound muffled instantly into Jennifer’s smothering hand.

“We’ll keep you,” Jennifer whispered next, as if she could read Amber’s very thought. Her tone shifted, matching, layering temptation over restraint until the promise became a trap too sweet to resist.

And though the betrothed pair’s words and actions seemed to be working, by the sounds Rose was making, still she shook her head. Resisting, even as her oxygen reserves grew more and more depleted.

But Amber knew what she wanted. What she and Jennifer needed. And so she continued to grind against the maid in the middle. Pussy to pussy. Clit to clit. A sight and a scene so intensely hot, that Jennifer, from her place atop Rose, began her own thrusting. Grinding. Dragging.

She fucking Rose from above, as Amber fucked her from below.

Between them, Rose felt almost every purpose dissolve, every goal she’d sworn herself to fading into the ether of bliss-brought oblivion. Pleasure ravaged her, oxygen dwindled, and her body trembled in weakening waves — yet one thing she clutched to like a lifeline remained: the Bowmans. That she remembered. That she required. Any truce, any treaty, any surrender — it would not come without them.

“Think of it…” Amber’s voice slid in, hot and coaxing, a continuation of her lover’s whispered trap. “The three of us.”

Rose’s head shook fiercely — left, right, again — as much as Jennifer’s hand would allow. Refusal flared even as her will waned, even as her strength drained into the grinding seam. She would not give in, not yet, not without demanding the one prize she could not let slip away.

“We’ll even let you sleep with us…” Amber purred, low and dangerous.

“With them.” Jennifer cut in, the words tumbling out unbidden, instinctive.

For a heartbeat, the world stopped. Three pairs of eyes went wide. Jennifer — stunned by what she’d given away without thought. Amber — seething at being undercut, unconsulted. And Rose — her shock so absolute it could only be read in the raw disbelief on her face.

What?! How?! Why?! Really?!

None of them asked the questions aloud. They didn’t need to. The air was thick with them. Each query sparking, clashing, crashing between their locked stares. And in the silence, Amber and Rose searched each other — debating in their eyes, dueling without words over what had just been unleashed.

Please. Rose’s delirious eyes begged, raw with want.

But… Amber’s gaze snapped back, fierce, a promise that burned with possession.

Not yours. Rose’s stare pushed harder, trembling, unrelenting.

Ours. The word blazed in her eyes, searing its way into Amber’s soul.

For a breathless instant, neither woman blinked, their faces so close the message passed like heat between their skin. The air itself seemed to hold it, vibrating with that single, impossible claim.

It was in that moment Amber and Rose felt it—a connection, sudden and soul-deep. A bond stripped of pride, born in the blur between hate and hunger.

In Amber’s eyes, Rose saw fear. Fear she might lose it all: the brothers, the woman who had become her lover, the fragile fairytale she’d stumbled into and fought tooth and claw to keep.

And in Rose’s gaze, Amber read the truth of what Jennifer’s offer had awakened. Yes, she craved Austin. Yes, she wanted Bennett. But more than that, she longed for what she had been denied for so long—companionship. Years of stalking empty halls, scheming in silence, surrounded by staff she never once called friend. Alone. Always alone.

All of that lived, revealed, in the wet shine of their locked gaze. Eyes that only moments before had been wide and wary now softened, shifting into something quieter. Something almost reassuring.

Amber was the one to break it, her voice steady, serious, but never threatening. “As long as you’re loyal to us…” She knew—she felt—that she and Jennifer would need allies in the world they were stepping into. Tonight’s ambush, and the blood still buzzing in their veins, was more than proof enough of that.

“Mmnnpphh…” Rose’s answer came muffled, strangled, her last ounce of oxygen pressed into the palm sealing her face. But there was something else buried in it too—yearning. The sound trembled with more than survival. It was almost a word, almost assent, almost the surrender they needed from her.

Jennifer felt it, heard it, and slowly lifted her hand. And in that pause, in that hush of traded breath, it was clear: Rose was so close to saying yes. All that held her tongue was one final condition, still waiting to be spoken.

So Rose could speak.

So Rose could breathe.

And though such mercy was granted to the once-maddened, once-defiant maid, neither Amber nor Jennifer relented. They slowed instead, syncing their movements into a cruel rhythm — two tides rolling together, keeping Rose pinned in the eye of their storm. Every drag, every press, left her suspended in a haze of lust and unraveling purpose.

“You… you promise…?” The words trembled from her lips, fragile and uncertain, as though speaking them might shatter her last thread of resistance. Breathless. Barely there. Yet in them was everything — her doubt, her desperation, and the raw brink of surrender.

“Yes…” Amber and Jennifer responded together. Their voices overlapping so perfectly, that it seemed as if they shared the same mind.

A fact and a sign that convinced Rose that the two women fucking her meant what they had said. And intended to live up to their offer. And so, despite what she had intended to do, and how deeply she had resented both of the Bowman’s chosen brides-to-be, she agreed.

Not with words. Not with sound, but with her hips, which only then began to once again thrust. Not on instinct, but fully and forcefully.

Forward and then back.

Every motion became a declaration; every buck of her hips and slick collision of flesh an oath in itself. Rose pouring herself into her movement and the moment, as if by pleasing Amber and Jennifer, she was signing and witnessing their new three-way contract in sweat and shudder.

Their bodies moved as one—three women with matching coffee-hued hair, curves melting into each other like nested dolls. Rose pressing her open mouth against the hollow of Amber’s throat, tasting salt as waves of pleasure crashed through all three of them at once.

Jennifer, whose breasts and tummy remained sealed against Rose’s back. “So … you’re … ours? Fully…? Completely…?”

With the words spoken, Jennifer worried; as did Amber. Would that phrasing force Rose from compliance to rebellion?

From acceptance to rage?

For a moment, it seemed that it had. As in a flash, Rose’s head pulled back, and as her forehead pressed against Amber’s, she gazed intensely. Down into the eyes of the woman laid and thrusting beneath her. “Unnngggh…. Unnnggghhh…. You … keep … your promise … and you can keep … me–mmmnnpphhh” The words spoken suddenly dove into a muffle. This time not from a palm or fingers, but Amber’s mouth.

She and Rose diving so deep into a kiss that the fear each had, as to who might do and accept what, vanished. Replaced by a certainty that the Bowman’s former lover. Their jealous and scorned maid had been tamed.

Jennifer’s head angling so that her lips pressed to Rose’s ear. Sharing with her, the newest brunette to the growing pack, the sounds of pleasure that welled deep within her.

It seemed, in that layered state of lust, they would each come to an orgasm. Amber beneath Rose, and Jennifer laid atop the same. But suddenly, the former and first of that trio, planted her foot into the wood floor, and then with it pushed up.

Their kiss broke as Amber’s movement sent Rose and Jennifer shifting above her. Jennifer released a soft, uncertain whimper as she crawled back onto her knees, responding to the subtle but unmistakable signal Amber had given.

Amber, with that freedom, then rolled Rose onto her back. Exposing her gorgeous body to both the women she had just warred with.

Exposed beneath their gaze, Rose writhed atop the hard wood floor, her body arching with an unmistakable need that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with hunger.

“Then let us show you the perks of being ours.” Offered Amber, as she moved back and then flattened Rose’s right leg and thigh to the floor.

With it so placed, the offering brunette then straddled it, facing inward, and in a side-mounted cunt-to-cunt straddle of Rose’s lower-half, she motioned for Jennifer to join her.

“Mmmm, you sexy, creative, bitch.” Flirted Jennifer, with a satisfied smirk that she wore as she responded to her lover’s call.

The thick bust-heavy twenty-something then crawling towards and then matching her identically built lover’s straddle, save for placing herself atop Rose’s left thigh, instead of her right.

Then, the betrothed pair, while on their knees, and with Rose beneath them, slid together. The cunts of the three women meeting and sealing together at their newly combined center.

“You know you love it. Now c’mere.” The invitation was playful and loving. Sexy and tantalizing. And as all of it played out above, Rose’s lips curved into a genuine smile. Her mind, which had been so focused on capturing one or both of the Bowman brothers, now realizing that she may have found something better. Something more.

“God, you two are incred–FUCK!” As Rose tried to speak and give voice to her realization, Jennifer and Amber’s wet cunts began to drag forward and over her already soaked kitten. The three-way meeting of lips, slits, and clits breaking her train of thought and forcing a sudden curse to escape her.

That slow, delicious drag coming again. Not once. Not twice. But again and again. Jennifer and Amber breast to breast bodies, writhing atop Rose’s wet center, as above the soon-to-be sister-wives kissed. Passionately. Deeply. Each sparing a hand to reach down and massage Rose’s exposed and bouncing breasts.

“FUCK!” The conquered maid screamed.

“OH MY GOD!” She cried out again.

“Yes! Yes! YES!!!! YEEEESSSSSS!” Tears began forming in the young servant’s eyes, as the pristine pussies of the prurient three pumped like passion-powered pistons.

Driving each of them towards orgasm. Towards release.

And as they did, Amber and Jennifer hissed at each other softly. Sweetly. Allowing themselves, as they often did, to slip back into the jealousy-driven rivalry that bound them, heart and soul.

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Whore.”

“Cunt.”

Each word slipping between their met upper lips as the women who once sought to drive each other away continued to kiss atop the body of another who had meant to do the same.

It was those hissed words of cruelty and hate, springing from her new owners’ lips, that pushed not just those that spoke them, but Rose over the edge and into a simultaneous and incredible orgasm.

Their once perfectly synced rhythms coming undone as they did the same. Losing themselves to trembles, shakes, grabs, and finally collapses. Amber falling to one side of Rose, while Jennifer fell to the other. The maid’s arms catching them, and then playing the role of pillow, as legs lifted, thighs crossed, and calves hooked.

The three women remaining there, on the sweat and sex stained floor of Jennifer’s bedroom in a withered and waylaid collection of spent bodies and satisfied prides.

No longer fighting.

No longer working against each other, but in a new unison of unquestioned loyalty and unified designs.