Living With 100 Maids in a Man’s World: Chapter 3

Author's Note: New chapter is updated every week, six chapters in total, but if you want to skip the waiting period or simply support me, you can purchase the official e-book of Living With 100 Maids in a Man’s World at arielbenson.com or Gumroad. Thank you very much.

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Living with 100 maids in a Man’s World

Chapter 3

Before bed, he enjoys a little live entertainment. In the great marble room, he sits comfortably on his throne, elevated by a platform. Two maids kneel at his feet and tend to his sleeping prick while another maid stands behind him with her bosom being his headrest. Except for the toilet maids kneeling further behind his throne and his head maid by his side, the rest of the maids change into braless and crotchless attire.

The room is similar to a huge hallway with crystal chandeliers oozing warm light and walls installed with marble penises. The upper row of marble shafts points upward and at a height where maids can impale themselves standing. The lower row of penises points outward to impale the maids from behind. They would be on all fours directly beneath their more senior colleagues. The closer they are to their master, the higher they are on the hierarchy. While the maids are mounted on the walls, they are to keep their nipples and clit erect. Twelve disciplinary maids wearing single pearl thongs patrol on each side and whip the offenders with riding crops until they can get their clits up.

In front of the throne is a fifteen feet in diameter white circle where most matches are played. His favorite is a version of the Naked Sumo. The rules are mostly similar, except for filling each fighter with half a gallon of milk.

He glances at an eager maid on his right, her perky tits seeking his attention. “Ten, come forward.”

“Yes, master.” Ten beams and drops down to her knees. She tucks her bleach hair behind her ears and crawls her toned, muscular body to him. She has been with him for six years and is his current champion with an undefeated record. As a former wrestler, her skills in combat are unmatched among the maids. Familiar with his reference, she intentionally lowers her jugs and brushes the tip of her erect nipples on the floor as she makes her way up the platform. The kneeling maids at his feet cradle his manhood, keep his softened shaft at a horizontal angle, and make some space for her to place her lips on his fat crown. Her cherry lips gently nibble the ridge of his mushroom while she looks up and waits for his instruction.

He stroked her head, pondering on who to pick when his head maid chimed in. “Might I suggest Ninety-Eight, master? She is a former boxer.”

“Interesting. Wrestlers and boxers.” He nods, a bright smile blooming on his lips.

“Ninety-Eight, come forward.” His head maid’s voice booms out across the great room.

From the other end of the room, Ninety-Eight crawls out of her mounted position and makes her way to the throne. She takes in the glorious sight of her master and plants her lips on his glans, a hairbreadth away from her opponent. Fluttering her eyelids at him, she purrs. “Here, master.”

He smirks at her eagerness, examining her fair features. His former boxer has deep green eyes and high cheekbones while her plump lips can turn cherry green with envy.

The head maid orders. “Recite the rules.”

Both maids speak simultaneously, their lips on his crown, their words vibrating along his meaty pole, earning soft sighs from their master. “I can only strike my opponent with open palms and bare tits. I can only strike my opponent below her neck. I will do my best to aim for my opponent’s nipples and clit to earn extra points. Falling, exiting the ring, squirting, or hitting the floor with any body parts above my knees results in my loss. Unable to hold the milk in my cunt results in my loss. I can not pull my opponent’s hair, kick, scratch, or tackle her. I vow to give my master a good show. I am eternally grateful to my master for picking me.”

“Three rounds. Five minutes each. Find me a winner.” He scratches his chin, his eyes twinkling.

“Yes, master!”

A couple of the lactating maids gather on the platform and milk their tits into a bucket in front of their master. Meanwhile, the fighters squat down with their legs spread and present their bare pussy to him as a lubricant-covered, long balloon is inserted inside each of their vaginas. When a gallon of milk is collected, half of the freshly harvested breastmilk is injected inside each balloon.

The fighters’ bellies bulge, resembling newly pregnant moms. They grit their teeth and crawl to the ring. Then, they squat and stare down each other at the center of the ring. The stake is high. The champion defends her crown while the rookie makes her debut. The consequence for the loser is shame and nasty punishments away from their master’s view.

“Touch boobs.” He grins, watching the fighters slam their tits together out of spite. This is his favorite part before the match. “Begin.”

They immediately jump backward, standing up, keeping their distance. The champion strikes first, her palm landing on Ninety-Eight’s tit. But it turns out to be a trap when Ninety-Eight grabs the champion’s wrist and strikes rapidly on her clit. Clenching her jaw, the champion secures Ninety-Eight’s striking limb and keeps them both at a standstill. Neither intends to yield.

The head maid yells, “Break!”

One of the disciplinary maids, aka the enforcer, steps in and breaks them apart. Separated, the fighters circle the ring and eye each other to look for an opening.

His eyes narrow. He cruelly commands. “Touch boobs. And clits.”

The fighter’s eyes widen as the order sinks in. Reluctantly, they edge towards the center of the ring. In a split second, their nipples peck. Their hips thrust forward, crushing their erect peas together.

The champion notices a jolt of pleasure distracting Ninety-Eight and strikes her right boob hard with a cross on the side, causing her to tumble almost to the floor. Ninety-Eight growls, her knocker bouncing painfully in the air, but she quickly regains her balance. Taking advantage of her low stance, she uppercuts the champion’s vulva with her palm. The champion locks up in pain, her scream piercing everyone’s ears.

But when Ninety-Eight heads in to deliver a final blow, the champion recovers and counters the strike with a right open-palm hook to Ninety-Eight’s left tit. Ninety-Eight’s breasts ripple, swaying violently. As Ninety-Eight loses her balance, the champion throws a one-two combo at her navel and ends with a barrage of jabs on her clit. The champion can win the match right here, but she knows that one round wouldn't satisfy her master. Instead of ending the bout, she holds back and wastes some blows on Ninety-Eight’s nipples while waiting for the gong to ring. She doesn’t have to wait long when the head maid strikes the gong and announces. “End of round one!”

The fighters squat down at the center of the ring and take a thirty-second break amidst heavy breaths and dirty glares. Despite the animosity, during the break, they French kiss each other, their tongues entwining, her sweaty and reddened breasts caressing, their swollen vulva drooling from either pain or pleasure or both.

“Sluts should get along.” He grins and shoves a maid’s wet mouth down on his hardened rod. Once she fully envelops his shaft, he holds her there, merely using her gullet to sheath his cock.

“Of course, master.” The head maid smiles warmly. All sluts live to serve her master. They only fight for his entertainment. She glances at her watch and announces. “Break over!”

His fingers drum on his cheek. A frown appears between his brows. “Touch your boobs and clits properly. No more half-assing.”

“Yes, master.” The fighters break from their kiss and prostrate on the floor to apologize. “Sorry, master.”

They discreetly share a quick glance and come to a silent truce before standing up. Their tits roll around on top of each other. Their lewd moans echo loudly across the great room. Their fingers spread the engorged labia as their clits bob up and down, brushing together.

“That’s right.” He grins, his cock twitching inside his maid’s esophagus. “You may begin.”

The fighters instantly separate. From both sides, a fury of open-palm jabs dizzies the spectators, most parried except for a few landing randomly on their upper bodies. Unfortunately to the champion, she steps in too hard and accidentally crushes Ninety-Eight’s toe.

The enforcers hollers, “Illegal move, Ten!”

The champion mutters a curse under her breath, catching a faint smirk on Ninety-Eight’s face as her opponent goes down and clutches her foot. Her eyes blaze with fury. She barely touches the bitch.

“Tsk, tsk.” He clicks his tongue. A wicked smile blossoms on his lips. The penalty is arguably the best part of these sports.

“I humbly apologize, master.” The champion kneels down on her knees next to her opponent, facing her master, her eyes downcast to hide her anger.

Ninety-Eight assume the same pose, only with a bright smile on her face. “How do you want to proceed, master?”

“Give me a good show.” He grins ear to ear, knowing better than to stifle a spiteful slut’s creativity.

“Thank you, master. Your magnanimity knows no bounds.” Ninety-Eight prostrates along with a reluctant Ten. Now that she has free rein to punish the mighty champion. She stands up, jutting out her gravity-defying melons, kicking the champion's buttocks. Her smugness descends upon the champion. “Spread your legs. Show me your cunt.”

The champion inhales deeply to quench the flame engulfing her body and complies. She squats down and spreads her knees apart. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you dumb? How does master suppose to see your filthy cunt? Face him.” Nine Eight crushes the champion’s left jug and shoves her down on the floor.

“Sorry, master.” The champion bites her lips and turns her pussy to her master.

“Higher.” Ninety-Eight spits venomously.

“Yes, ma’am.” The champion leans back on her hands, putting her bare and swollen twat on full display in front of her master.

Ninety smirks and delivers a heel kick straight to her opponent’s engorged labia. The subsequent scream is exquisite. The champion’s knees buckle, her arms trembling. But Ninety-Eight doesn’t stop there. She crushes her heel on the fleshy and tender flaps to maximize the pain. The champion is now howling at the ceiling, sweat pouring down her tan skin.

To archive the utmost humiliation, Ninety-Eight places her sleek heel on the champion’s lips. “Taste your juice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The champion barks amid ragged breaths. Her mouth engulfs and sucks Ninety-Eight’s heel, much to the rookie’s immense satisfaction.

Once Ninety-Eight’s heel is cleaned, she straddles over the champion’s head and buries her face in her cunt. “Stick your tongue in my pussy.” Then, she proceeds to fuck herself on the flexible organ, her jugs bouncing. After a few minutes, she rubs her soaking-wet labia on the champion’s enraged face. Her juice completely coats her opponent’s now shiny skin. To deepen the humiliation, she grabs a handful of the champion’s bleach hair to shove her face harder against her twat as if she is smothering her opponent with her cunt.

“Well done.” He hasn’t seen this before. His hands hold the maid still on his throbbing shaft as his pre-cum leaks out and drips straight to her stomach.

“Thank you, master.” Ninety-Eight turns around and flashes her master a beaming smile.

(To be continued)