Olivia Winslow was many things, including beautiful, always a head-turner. She had breasts that never needed a bra, full lips, a rounded behind, auburn hair, and sparkling blue eyes. She was a faithful friend, a brave soul, a beacon of light. One thing she was not: employed.
Although Help Wanted signs were everywhere, she never got a single call for an interview. She was reduced to scouring the bottom of the employment barrel-online ads. One ad, in particular, buried in the mass of jobs she was unqualified to do, looked intriguing.
The ad read:
House cleaner needed, $1000 for 5-hours. Must be an attractive woman comfortable with her body, willing to serve and clean for a private all-male party. Uniform and supplies provided.
The implications were both insidious and maybe even slightly lecherous. It sounded simple and innocent enough, but Olivia wondered if there was more involved than serving snacks and cleaning up after a group of men. Nonetheless, the money was enticing and too good to pass up. She answered the ad, being required to send a picture of herself, and arrangements were made.
The next night she drove to the provided address, in the older, more affluent section of town. The autumn air was chilly as she exited the car. She noted the well-maintained lawn, the high windows, the vines snaking up the sprawling house.
Half expecting a wretched old pervert man, or a vampire to greet her, Olivia was pleasantly surprised when a man only slightly older than herself opened the door.
Tall and muscular, he wore dark jeans and a button-up shirt. His hair was shorter on the sides and longer in the front, lending him an air of cosmopolitan charm.
“Hi, I’m Wesley, you must be Olivia. Come in,” he said with a smile that made his eyes sparkle, whether with lust or kindness she was uncertain.
Some muted voices from within the mansion could be heard. Wesley's brazen appraisal of her figure caused her to once more wonder if all that was expected of her was to serve food and drinks and clean up after slovenly men.
Almost as if he could read her thoughts, Wesley handed her a brown paper bag. "Here’s your uniform. You can change in the bathroom over there." He pointed at a door down the massive hall. "And when you’re dressed you can start in the kitchen down the hall. Money’s in the bag.”
Despite being hired to clean, the hall and the designated bathroom looked immaculate and pristine, far from needing any cleaning.
I guess that's rich people for you, Olivia thought to herself as she opened the bag, putting the money in her purse.
She then turned her attention to the uniform, what little of it there was. Calling it a dress would have been a huge stretch of the imagination. Calling it lingerie would be more accurate.
Barely looking like a porn version of a maid's uniform, the black, sheer fabric was made to show off her body. The white lace front piece, a slutty mockery of a maid's apron. The neckline was designed to let the swell of her breasts be plainly seen.
No matter how she stood, the lacy hem still revealed the bottom of her ass cheeks. Bending over to clean would be impossible without displaying everything. Thigh-high socks completed the look.
Olivia's first thought was to shove the money and skimpy outfit back into the bag. However, the lure of a thousand dollars was too tempting. And something about that man-made her want to please him. Deciding that she needed the money more than modesty, she put it on. Even to her not-so-innocent eyes, Olivia had to admit that she looked incredibly sexy in a totally slutty way.
She finally mustered the courage to exit. Wesley eyed her up with lust, letting out a low whistle, visibly excited at the sight of her.
“Just do as you’re told and don’t talk back and we won’t have any problems. Is that understood?” She nodded.
“We’re all hanging out in the living room. If you wouldn’t mind bringing us some more white claws that’d be great.”
As she walked past she heard a snippet of the conversation.
“I just can’t do it, you know the whole straight white male thing? Like if I’m so privileged then why am I working a job like everyone else?”
She grabbed some white claws from the large stainless steel fridge. It was otherwise sparse. They must not live here. But Olivia wasn’t there to play detective. She looked over the expanse of marble countertop where, lo and behold, there was a bucket with cleaning supplies.
She headed back to the living room. The conversation had shifted to electric vehicles.
“Since getting my Tesla I can’t say I miss going to the gas station.” This was followed by murmurs of affirmation. Rich assholes, all of them.
She turned to leave and one of the men (Chris?) tapped her on the ass, saying, “You missed a spot.” He had dropped his empty white claw and nodded his head in the direction of the can. In order to pick it up, she would have to bend over in front of him. And so she bent and huffed back to the kitchen.
Now, this wasn’t the first time Olivia had experienced this kind of behavior from men.
New plan: avoid the living room at all costs. The upstairs was safer. She grabbed the bucket and headed to the upstairs bathroom, also practically spotless. She started on the sink but before she could even finish she heard him.
“Hey Olivia, we could really use your help in the living room,” Wesley called from the base of the stairs. Her heart started thumping a bit faster. But, she did as she was told and came down the staircase and into the room. She was greeted with sinister smiles.
“I forgot to introduce my friends. So rude of me. These are my buds Gunner, Brock, Chris. Over there we got Matt, Carter, Alex, and Mike.” Something told her that being polite was the least of his concerns.
He then indicated that the fireplace area needed attention. This would place her underwear-clad butt in full view. At least she still had her underwear, her last shred of dignity. She started on the mantle. From what she could tell, the guys were talking about sports.
“I bet 500 bucks on the Raiders and they fucked me. Should have known better than to bet on the fucking Raiders.”
Before she could think she responded.
“That’s too bad. Did they not get any home runs?”
“It’s fucking football so no.” Snickers followed.
“Oh, sorry.” Stupid, stupid. Just clean. Think about something else. She felt someone coming up behind her.
“I’m liking what I’m seeing but I’d like to see more,” one of the men said. More? What did he mean?
Just then he grabbed her arms behind her back pushing her chest forward. He pushed down the front of her dress and unhooked her bra swiftly exposing her chest. She let out a little whine as her nipples felt the air.
“Yeah, these won’t be necessary.” Wesley came up and pulled her underwear to the ground then helped both her feet out of them. In shock, Olivia stuttered, “Pl-please give them back.”
“Sorry, they’re mine now.” He grinned. She looked out at the room and noticed, to her horror, all eight men sitting on the sectional, their fully erect cocks out, stroking them. She smiled slightly at the thought of being so desired before realizing she was supposed to be scared.
“You can start by sucking Carter’s cock.” She was led over to the couch and guided down to her knees, positioned in front of the man sitting. It was large so she started off going halfway down, hoping that would suffice.
As she sucked the room went quiet and all you could hear for a minute were wet slurping noises.
“All the way down, I want to be balls deep.” She went down as far as she could go, sputtering a bit at the invasion. But he held her head down so that she couldn’t come up for a breath. He then started fucking her throat in earnest. As she gagged her pussy leaked down her legs.
Finally, he let her up for some air. She noticed some white powder under his nose she couldn’t help but mention. She knew it must have been cocaine. ‘Looks like someone missed a spot’ she thought wryly.
“You’ve got a lil something under your nose,” she said.
“It’s just blow,” the man replied flippantly. And with that, he shoved her back down on him. Before she could even comprehend what was happening she felt something at the entrance to her cunt.
Hands grabbed her waist and she was impaled by, yes, another cock. She moaned loudly. This one felt bigger than the one in her mouth but it was hard to be certain. She was so wet he entered her with no resistance whatsoever. As she gagged her pussy clenched on the cock inside her. He thrusted deeply and quickly as if he only fucked her hard enough he could forget his pathetic existence. Olivia moaned and gasped for breath.
“She loves it, I think she can take more,” a man said. Wesley. She looked up to see him stroking himself idly on the couch. His eyes seemed to pierce her very soul. More?! What did he mean? Why was he trying to torture her?
Before she could further contemplate her fate, the cock in her mouth tensed. She could tell he was about to cum.
He filled her mouth and she spit it out, feeling it fall down her neck and pool on the floor.
Before she could so much as catch a breath, another man thrust his entire shaft right back where the last one was.
Wesley picked himself off the couch and walked over to her. He helped guide her head back and forth on the cock currently in her mouth.
“That’s not really how we do things around here. You’re going to have to swallow the rest.”
As he walked back to the couch, the man fucking her pulled out and shot a thick stream onto her back. It dribbled down between her ass cheeks and along the sides of her waist.
The next man was ready at the waiting and swiftly entered her dripping pussy. It seemed they all would get their turn. This man was thicker than the last and reached around to rub her clit, back and forth and in circles like she liked. She began to shake on him, her body tightening, unsure of how much more she could take.
The cock in her throat swelled.
“Swallow it all, slut,” the man said before emptying himself down her throat. She complied.
Next, she was pulled to the arm of the couch and laid over it face down. A man readied himself for her mouth as the one at her pussy re-entered her. Wesley continued to watch intently. Why wasn’t he trying to fuck her? What’s his problem? Sick fucker, she thought, before succumbing to the lack of thoughts that accompany such a pounding.
She was then picked up and laid down on the couch. At this point even if she had the strength to resist, she wouldn’t. The next man raised her legs above her head and proceeded to use her exclusively for his own pleasure. She could tell that he only wanted to get off and could care less about whether she was enjoying it or not.
But as it so happened, Olivia felt an overwhelming pressure and thought she might blackout, or come, or both. It hit her harder than she’d experienced in a long time, maybe ever. Wave after wave rolled over her until she collapsed on the couch. After she had finished catching her breath she looked up to see him, the orchestrator, smiling down at her. The other men had dispersed, perhaps in search of beverages.
“For someone who’s here to clean you really made quite the mess. It’s alright though. We have a cleaning company coming tomorrow. You did great.”
She couldn’t be bothered to care about what this cleaning company consisted of, she could only stand up shakily and try to collect herself. Olivia wobbled to the bathroom to wipe herself off as best as she could.
She drove home in a daze, albeit a contented and proud daze, the only coherent thought in her mind being
What the fuck just happened?
She smiled to herself, a sheepish, knowing smile.
