Presenting Princess Marcia

Week ten arrived with the final scores already decided before the last games even finished. Talia’s team took the league by a margin wide enough that the notification felt ceremonial. Mark stood in the kitchen in the pale pink panties and empty black bra, the smooth hairless skin of his body still faintly pink in places from the constant waxing, the careful makeup from the previous night’s date only half removed. He already knew. The season was over. He had lost.

Talia set her phone down and crossed the kitchen in three steps. Her freckled hands framed his face, thumbs brushing the residual blush on his cheeks.

“Championship dinner tonight,” she said. “Full presentation. Then I send the pictures to Karma.”

She dressed him herself. A soft black dress that hugged every line of his body from the padded cups of the bra to mid-thigh. Sheer black stockings clipped to a garter belt that sat above the pink panties. Heels high enough that his calves burned. Full makeup—foundation blended smooth, soft pink blush, winged liner, mascara that made his green eyes look wide and uncertain, a glossy tinted balm that left his mouth sticky and sweet. When she finished she stepped back and looked at him the way she had looked at the scoreboard all season.

“Princess Marcia,” she said, testing the name. “Turn around.”

He turned. The dress moved with him. The panties were already damp.

Dinner was quiet and expensive. Talia ordered champagne. Under the table her freckled foot traced the inside of his stockinged calf, higher, pressing against the soft bulge of his cock until the pink cotton was soaked and the average length of him was half-hard and trapped. She took pictures throughout the meal—him lifting the champagne flute, the line of his throat, the way the dress sat on his thighs, the glossy mouth. Between courses she leaned in and kissed him slowly, leaving the tinted balm smeared across both their mouths, and took another picture of the aftermath.

In the car on the way home she sent the album to Karma with a single message Mark was not allowed to read. The reply came before they reached the apartment. Talia read it, smiled, and showed him the screen.

Karma: *Fuck yes. Tomorrow. All day. I want her throat and her ass and I want to watch you use her. Tell Princess Marcia she’s mine from noon onward.*

Mark’s cock twitched hard against the wet cotton.

They barely made it through the front door. Talia pushed him against the wall, shoved the black dress up around his waist, yanked the pink panties aside, and sank down onto his cock in one smooth, wet motion. The stockings rasped against her freckled thighs. She fucked herself on him hard and fast, the empty bra cups shifting under the dress, the heels of his shoes scraping the hardwood, until she came with a sharp cry and the clench of her cunt dragged him over the edge with her. He spilled into her in thick pulses while she kissed the glossy balm from his mouth.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered against his lips. “You’re going to be perfect for her.”

---

Noon the next day the doorbell rang while Mark was still standing in the bathroom in nothing but the pink panties, the empty bra, and the full makeup Talia had reapplied that morning. She had chosen a soft white babydoll that barely reached the tops of his thighs, white lace panties underneath, white stockings, and the same heels. The name Marcia sat in his head like a second heartbeat.

Karma stepped inside without hesitation. She was taller than Talia, dark hair cut sharp at the jaw, brown eyes that moved over Mark’s body with open hunger. She carried a black bag that clinked softly when she set it down. She did not greet him as Mark. She walked straight up to him, gripped his chin, and turned his face left and right, examining the makeup, the smooth skin, the way the white lace cupped the soft average bulge of his cock.

“Pretty,” she said. “Talia wasn’t lying.” Her thumb dragged across the sticky tinted balm on his mouth. “On your knees, Princess. I want to see what that mouth can do before we get started.”

Round one began on the living-room rug in the bright midday light.

Talia sat on the couch, freckled thighs already spread, and crooked a finger. Mark crawled to her on his knees, the white stockings whispering against each other, the babydoll shifting with every movement. He settled between her legs and dragged his tongue through her cunt in one long, slow stroke. She was already wet; the taste of her flooded his mouth, salt and skin and the faint sweetness she always carried. He licked her open the way she had trained him all season—flat tongue on her clit, soft suction, the steady pressure that made her freckled hips lift. Behind him he heard the sound of Karma undressing, the soft thud of clothes hitting the floor, the click of a bottle.

Karma’s hands settled on his hips, then lower, peeling the white lace panties down just far enough to expose the smooth, hairless cheeks of his ass and the tight pink hole she had been promised. Cool lube dripped into the cleft. Two fingers pressed against him, circled, then pushed inside with steady pressure. The stretch burned in the familiar way; the ring of muscle yielded and took her to the second knuckle. She worked him open while he ate Talia, scissoring her fingers, curling them against the spot that made his cock jump and leak against the front of the pulled-down lace. Talia came first, thighs clamping around his head, a long shaking moan, her wetness flooding his mouth and dripping from his chin onto the white babydoll. Only then did Karma pull her fingers free, shove the lace fully aside, and guide the head of Mark’s average cock to Talia’s still-fluttering entrance.

“Fuck her,” Karma ordered. “Show me how Princess Marcia uses that pretty cock.”

He pushed into Talia in one slow thrust. The heat of her after orgasm was swollen and tight and soaking. Karma’s freckled-free hands stayed on his hips, controlling the depth, forcing him to fuck Talia in long, deliberate strokes while she watched the place where his cock disappeared into her friend’s cunt. The white stockings flexed with every movement. The babydoll rode up around his waist. Talia’s freckled hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in, and she came a second time around him with a broken sound. The clench of her walls and the steady pressure of Karma’s hands on his hips pulled his own orgasm out of him in heavy, pulsing waves; he spilled into Talia while Karma reached around and stroked the base of his cock through the final spurts, milking every drop into her.

They stayed locked together until he softened. Karma pulled him off Talia by the hair, turned his face up, and kissed him hard, tasting her friend on his tongue.

“Good girl,” she murmured. “Lunch break’s over. Now we play properly.”

---

Round two started less than an hour later in the bedroom.

Karma had unpacked the bag. The strap-on she stepped into was a solid, realistic mid-sized cock in the same average range as Mark’s own, fleshy pink and already shiny with lube. Talia lay back against the pillows, freckled thighs open, and pulled Mark’s face back between them by the hair. He buried his mouth in her cunt again, licking up the mixture of her wetness and his own cum from the first round, the taste thicker and saltier now. Behind him Karma’s hands spread his cheeks. The blunt head of the strap-on pressed against his hole—still soft and open from her fingers—and pushed in with steady, relentless pressure.

The stretch was deeper this time. The thick shaft forced him open inch by inch until the harness slapped against his ass and the entire length was buried inside him. The sensation was overwhelming—fullness, pressure against the spot that made his cock throb and leak onto the sheets, the complete loss of control. Karma fucked him in long, powerful strokes while he ate Talia, the force of each thrust pushing his face harder into her cunt. The wet sounds of the strap-on working in and out of his ass mixed with the wetter sounds of his tongue on Talia. His own average cock hung hard and dripping between his legs, untouched, the white lace panties still tangled around one thigh.

Talia came on his tongue with a sharp cry, freckled thighs shaking around his head. Karma did not stop. She fucked him harder, angling for the place that made his vision blur, one hand reaching under him to stroke his cock in time with her thrusts. The dual stimulation—her thick shaft dragging across his prostate, her fist working his average length—was too much. He came with a broken, muffled sound against Talia’s cunt, pulsing hard across the sheets in thick ropes while Karma kept thrusting through it, milking the orgasm out of him with every stroke until he was shaking and oversensitive and still hard because she had not stopped touching him.

She pulled out slowly, leaving him open and empty and aching. Talia pulled his face up, kissed him, and tasted herself on his mouth.

“Dinner next,” Karma said, voice rough with satisfaction. “I want her throat and her ass at the same time before we sleep.”

---

Round three began after dark.

They cleaned him first—warm enema, the intimate pressure, the empty sensitive feeling afterward that left his hole soft and ready. Talia reapplied the lipstick that had been kissed off, smoothed the mascara, and settled the white babydoll back into place. Karma stepped into a second, slightly thicker strap-on. Talia took the first one, still slick from his ass.

They put him on his back in the center of the bed. Talia straddled his chest facing his feet, the freckled cheeks of her ass settling near his face, and lowered her cunt back onto his mouth. At the same time Karma knelt between his spread thighs, lifted his hips, and pushed the thicker strap-on into his still-open hole in one continuous thrust until she was buried to the harness. The fullness punched a moan out of him that vibrated against Talia’s cunt. She reached back, wrapped her freckled hand around his cock, and began to stroke him in time with Karma’s thrusts.

They fucked him in tandem.

Karma’s thick shaft dragged across his prostate with every powerful stroke, the force of it rocking his whole body. Talia ground her cunt against his mouth, using his tongue, his lips, the soft give of his face, while her hand worked his average cock in tight, twisting strokes. The dual penetration of his throat (Talia’s wet heat muffling every sound) and his ass (Karma’s relentless rhythm) left him with nowhere to go. Spit and Talia’s wetness ran down his chin. The wet slap of Karma’s hips against his ass filled the room. His cock throbbed and leaked steadily over Talia’s freckled fingers.

When Talia came she stayed seated on his face through the aftershocks, smothering him with her cunt while her hand never stopped stroking. Karma fucked him harder, chasing her own pleasure through the strap-on, until the pressure on his prostate and the tight fist around his cock forced a second orgasm out of him so intense his vision went white. He pulsed hard across Talia’s hand and his own stomach, thick ropes of cum landing on the white babydoll and the smooth hairless skin of his belly while Karma kept thrusting through it, using his clenching hole for her own release.

They switched without giving him time to recover.

Talia moved down his body, took his still-sensitive cock into her mouth, and sucked the residual cum from the head while Karma repositioned. This time Karma fed the strap-on between his glossy lips and into his throat at the same time Talia pushed two slick fingers back into his ass. They used him from both ends—Karma fucking his throat in steady strokes that made him gag and drool around the shaft, Talia sucking his cock and fingering his hole until the dual stimulation built a third, almost painful orgasm that left him shaking and whimpering around the cock in his mouth. He came across Talia’s tongue in weak, oversensitive pulses while Karma held herself deep in his throat and watched his eyes water.

They finished him on his hands and knees.

Both women strapped up. Talia took his mouth; Karma took his ass. They fucked him in a steady, relentless rhythm, the two shafts working him from both ends until his jaw ached and his hole fluttered and his average cock hung hard and dripping between his legs again. Talia reached under him and stroked him in time with their thrusts. When she came she forced the strap-on deeper into his throat and held him there while her freckled thighs trembled. Karma followed a minute later, grinding deep into his ass, and the combined pressure and the fist around his cock dragged a final, broken orgasm out of him. He pulsed weakly across the sheets, the climax more pain than pleasure, while both women used his body through it until they were satisfied.

They collapsed around him afterward—Talia’s freckled body on one side, Karma’s darker, stronger frame on the other. Mark lay between them in the ruined white babydoll, white stockings still on, makeup smeared, hole soft and used, cock soft and spent and sticky against his thigh. The pink panties from earlier were somewhere on the floor, forgotten.

Karma’s fingers traced the empty cup of the bra still strapped around his chest.

“Princess Marcia,” she said quietly, almost fond. “We’re going to need more than one day.”

Talia’s freckled hand settled on his hip, thumb brushing the smooth skin she had created weeks ago.

“The season’s over,” she murmured against his ear. “But the bet isn’t. You’re hers whenever she wants you. And mine every night.”

Mark’s soft cock twitched once against the sheets, average and spent and completely claimed.

Outside the apartment the ordinary world kept moving.

Inside, Princess Marcia had nowhere left to hide.