Amelia stood on the gravel drive of the sprawling Lust Island mansion, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across its sleek, modern facade. Her blonde hair whipped in the breeze, tangled from the frantic cab ride she’d taken after quitting her gig at “The House of Double-Edged Swords.” The shop had begun to feel like a prison—cursed limbo or not—and walking out had felt like shedding chains. But freedom came with a void, one that gnawed at her every waking moment since that day with Neil. The circlet. That silver ring had sunk its hooks into her, and now she was here, heart pounding, craving its weight on her head and in her mind again.

She adjusted her tank top—same style she’d worn that day, a deliberate echo—and smoothed her jeans, her palms sweaty despite the cool air. The memory of Neil’s cocky grin, the way he’d taken her on that chair, her body yielding to him like it had a mind of its own—it haunted her. She’d tried to shake it, drowning herself in shitty bar shifts and late-night scrolls through Instagram, but nothing filled the ache. Submission. That blissful haze where her will melted, where she was his to command—it was a drug, and she was jonesing bad.

The mansion loomed, all glass and sharp angles, a far cry from the dingy shop. She’d tracked Neil down through posts on Instagram—posts about Lust Island star Brandon Collard and his “unconventional” housemates. A quick search pinned the estate twenty miles from her old haunt, and here she was, uninvited, desperate. She clutched a crumpled note in her pocket, the one she’d found tucked in her bag after Neil left that day: “Be careful with it, babe.” His voice echoed in her skull, cocky but warm, and it drove her forward.

She rang the bell, the chime echoing inside. Footsteps approached—light, quick—and the door swung open. A woman stood there, petite with killer curves, dark hair spilling over a loose tee. Denise, she guessed, from the instagram chatter. Her eyes narrowed, sizing Amelia up. “Can I help you?” she asked, voice sharp but curious.

“I’m here for Neil,” Amelia blurted, her throat tight. “I—I need to see him. Please.”

Denise’s brow arched, but before she could reply, a deeper voice cut in. “Who’s this, babe?” Neil stepped into view, leaning against the frame, all lean muscle and that damn grin. His jeans hugged him tight, and his shirt hung open, revealing abs that hadn’t been there last time. The circlet dangled from his hand, glinting like a promise, and Amelia’s knees nearly buckled.

“Amelia,” she said, locking eyes with him. “From the shop. I quit—I couldn’t stay there. I’ve been thinking about you, about… that.” She nodded at the circlet, her voice trembling. “I need it again, Neil. Please. Let me join you—your harem, whatever this is. I’ll do anything.”

Another figure emerged—Chloe, her outrageous tits barely contained in a red dress, smirking like she owned the place. “Another fan, Neil? You collect ‘em like trophies.”

“Zip it, Chloe,” Neil shot back, eyes locked on Amelia. “You quit the shop? That’s bold. Why’re you here?”

Amelia stepped forward, chin high despite the tremor in her hands. “I felt it—that day, with you. The circlet. I’ve been empty since. I want in—your house, your… whatever this is. I’ll be the best you’ve got. Better than her.” She flicked her eyes at Chloe, competitive fire flaring. “I’ll serve you like no one else can.”

Chloe laughed, sharp and mocking, but Denise’s lips twitched, intrigued. Neil crouched, meeting Amelia’s gaze, the circlet glinting. “Big talk. You know what this thing does—changes you, deep. You sure you can handle it?”

“I’ll handle it better than anyone,” Amelia said, voice steady, eyes burning. “I’ll be your perfect sub—more devoted, more pleasing than her or anyone. Try me.”

Neil glanced at Denise, who shrugged, a spark of amusement in her eyes. “She’s got fire. Let’s see if she can back it up.”

“Alright,” Neil said, standing, twirling the circlet. “Let’s test that confidence.” He stepped closer, sliding the cool metal onto her head. The world shifted—panic drowned in a rush of bliss, her body igniting with need. Nipples hardened, pussy slick, every nerve screamed to serve him, to outshine all others. “Master,” she breathed, the word a vow.

“Fuck, that’s intense,” Neil muttered, eyes darkening as he took her in. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her inside, the door slamming shut. Denise and Chloe followed, settling on the plush living room sofa as Neil dropped into an armchair, legs spread. “Kneel,” he ordered, and Amelia hit the floor fast, gazing up with fervent adoration, determined to prove herself.

“Show me you’re the best,” he said, voice rough.

Amelia’s competitive streak surged, amplified by the circlet’s haze. She’d eclipse Chloe, surpass Denise, be the sub he’d never forget. “I’ll please you like no one has, master,” she purred, crawling closer, hands sliding up his thighs. Chloe snorted, sipping a drink, but Amelia ignored her, focus locked on Neil. She unzipped his jeans, his cock springing free—thick, hard, bigger than she remembered. Her mouth watered, but she didn’t rush. She’d make this art.

She leaned in, lips brushing his tip, teasing with slow, deliberate licks, savoring his low groan. “Better than Chloe,” she murmured, tongue swirling, taking him deeper with each bob of her head. Her hands worked in sync, one stroking his shaft, the other cupping his balls, gentle but firm, coaxing every shudder. The circlet rewarded her—pleasure spiking with every submissive act, her pussy throbbing, but she channeled it into him, determined to shine.

“Fuck, Amelia,” Neil rasped, hand fisting her hair, guiding her rhythm. She took him deeper, throat relaxing, lips tight, sucking with a fervor that drowned out Chloe’s scoff. Denise watched, leaning forward, eyes sharp with interest. “She’s good,” Denise said, voice tinged with respect. “Really good.”

Amelia’s chest swelled, pushing harder. She varied her pace—fast, then slow, tongue flicking his underside, lips popping off to kiss along his length before diving back, taking him to the hilt. Neil’s hips bucked, a guttural moan escaping, and she felt it—victory. She was winning, outshining them. The circlet’s whispers—submit, excel, obey—fueled her, her own arousal building, clit pulsing, but she held back, all for him.

Chloe shifted, smirking. “Cute effort, newbie. But I’ve got tricks you can’t touch.” She tugged her dress down, those hypnotic tits spilling out, but Amelia didn’t flinch. She locked eyes with Neil, sucking harder, her devotion a blaze Chloe couldn’t dim.

“Focus on me, master,” Amelia gasped between strokes, voice thick with need. “I’m yours—better, more devoted. Feel how much I want this.” She dove back, throat working, hands relentless, drawing curses from Neil’s lips.

He tensed, a warning growl rumbling. “Gonna cum—fuck, you’re good.” She doubled down, lips locked, swallowing him deep as he erupted—hot, thick jets flooding her throat. She drank every drop, the circlet triggering her own climax—sharp, blinding, her pussy spasming as she moaned around him. Her body shook, but she didn’t falter, milking him dry, proving her worth.

Neil slumped, panting, as she pulled back, licking her lips, eyes locked on his with fierce pride. “Told you, master,” she whispered. “I’m the best you’ll have.”

“Welcome to the team,” he said, grinning, lifting the circlet from her head. The haze faded, but the loyalty stuck—she felt it, a tether to him, softer but real. She nodded, breathless, as he stood, zipping up. “Denise’ll show you a room. Rest up—you’re in now.”

Denise rose, offering a hand. “Come on, newbie. Let’s get you settled.” Her tone was firm but warm, a sister in this strange world. Amelia took it, legs wobbly, and followed, glancing back at Neil. He winked, cocky as ever, and she knew—she’d found her place, her fix, her master. The mansion swallowed her in, and she didn’t look back.

Amelia roamed the mansion’s polished halls, the hardwood cool beneath her bare feet, her tank top clinging to her skin in the late morning heat. Two days had passed since she’d begged her way into Neil’s world, and the place still felt like a maze of glass and luxury—a stark upgrade from the cursed clutter of “The House of Double-Edged Swords.” Denise had tucked her into a room with a pool view, but she hadn’t unpacked her soul yet. The circlet’s echo pulsed in her veins, a restless hunger stoked by Neil’s rough welcome—his cock claiming her throat, his grin branding her mind. She needed more, and the house buzzed with possibilities she couldn’t resist exploring.

She rounded into the kitchen, coffee’s rich bite hitting her nose. There he was, Brandon Collard, Lust Island’s muscle-bound star, shirtless and massive, pouring a mug with hands that could crush stone. Sweat gleamed on his tanned skin, fresh from a workout, his dark hair tousled. His back was a sculpture—traps bulging, lats flaring, every ripple screaming power. When he turned, those hazel eyes pinned her, sharp yet warm, and his shorts hung low, carving a V-line that made her breath catch. Fuck, he was a beast.

“Oi, you’re the new one,” he said, voice a deep, easy rumble, a grin tugging his lips. “Amelia, yeah? Neil’s latest catch?”

She nodded, leaning against the counter, her tank top tight across her chest. “That’s me. Still figuring this place out.” Her gaze roamed him—biceps like cannonballs, chest a fortress, thighs thick as oaks. He wasn’t just hot; he was a goddamn monument, and her pulse quickened, a raw, primal pull tugging at her core.

Brandon sipped his coffee, eyeing her back. “He’s got a knack for picking ‘em. You settling in? Denise show you the ropes?”

“Yeah, she’s sweet,” Amelia said, twirling a strand of blonde hair. “This place is wild, though. Didn’t expect it to be so… huge.” Her eyes lingered on his arms, the way they flexed with every casual move. She bit her lip, heat creeping up her neck, her mind already tracing those muscles.

He chuckled, setting the mug down. “Huge’s the game here. Gotta keep the vibe up.” He paused, then jerked his head toward the gym down the hall. “Neil’s in there, lifting. We were at it—mate’s hooked lately. Come say hi.”

She followed, heart thumping, the clank of weights growing louder. Neil was mid-bench press, shirtless, muscles taut as he racked the bar. The circlet sat on a towel nearby, glinting like a loaded promise. He sat up, wiping sweat with that cocky grin. “Amelia! Stalking me already?”

“Caught me,” she teased, but her eyes slid back to Brandon, towering beside her, a wall of raw power. Neil caught the look, his grin twitching just a hair.

Brandon crossed his arms, biceps ballooning, and nodded at her. “Mate, we need a word. Kitchen?” His tone was light, but there was steel underneath. Neil shrugged, snagging the circlet, and they trailed back, Amelia tagging along, curiosity prickling.

In the kitchen, Brandon leaned against the counter, coffee back in hand. “Look, Neil, she’s a cracker—fit, keen, all that. But another one of yours in my house? It’s starting to feel like I’m running a bloody harem hotel for you.”

Neil smirked, twirling the circlet. “Jealous, mate? Thought you liked the company.”

“Not jealous,” Brandon snapped, voice firm. “It’s my place, yeah? I’m cool with you lot—Denise, Chloe, the setup—but it’s piling up. Street’s quiet now, thanks to us, but another bird strutting around, all moony for you? Feels like I’m losing grip on my own turf.”

Amelia’s gut twisted. She hadn’t meant to rock the boat. “I’m not here to mess things up,” she said, stepping forward. “I just needed Neil—the circlet’s stuck in my head, you know?” She hesitated, then let it spill. “But, Brandon, I fancy you too. Those muscles—fuck, they’re insane. You’re gorgeous. I’d love to keep you happy too, if that’s okay.”

Brandon blinked, caught off guard, then let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Well, shit. Cheers, love.” He glanced at Neil, brow raised. “Hear that, mate? Your new toy’s got eyes for me too.”

Neil’s jaw tightened, but his grin held. “She’s got taste, I’ll give her that.” He eyed Amelia, narrowing his gaze. “You serious? You want Bran too?”

She nodded, bold now. “Yeah. Neil, you’re my master—I’d do anything for you. But Brandon… he’s a fucking muscle-god. I’d love to worship him too. Please?” Her voice softened, pleading.

Neil rubbed his chin, the circlet dangling in his grip. “Tricky one. I don’t share easy, babe. You’re mine—circlet sealed that.” He glanced at Brandon, who shrugged, sipping his coffee like it was nothing. “But you’re my mate, Bran. Been solid. If she wants to keep you smiling, maybe we can figure it.”

Brandon smirked. “Not saying no. She’s fit, and I’m not blind. Just don’t want it screwing the vibe here.”

“Alright,” Neil said, reluctance seeping through but warming to it. “Here’s the deal, Amelia. You can sleep with Bran—keep him happy, suck him off, whatever. But he doesn’t cum in your pussy. That’s mine. Mouth, ass, hands—fine. Break that, and we’re done. Clear?”

Amelia nodded fast, relief washing over her. “Yes, master. I’ll stick to it. Promise.” Her eyes flicked to Brandon, heat pooling low. “You good with that?”

Brandon grinned, setting his mug down. “Mate, I’m not fussed where I finish as long as it’s good. She’s keen—works for me.” He flexed an arm, teasing. “Guess these muscles’ll get some extra love now.”

Neil snorted, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re a greedy bastard. Right—gym’s calling. Amelia, you’re with us. Let’s see how you handle watching two blokes lift.”

They headed back, Amelia trailing, her mind buzzing with anticipation. Neil slid the circlet onto her head as they stepped into the gym, and the world tilted—bliss crashed over her, her body igniting with submissive fire. Her nipples stiffened, her pussy soaked, every nerve screaming to serve. “Kneel,” Neil ordered, and she dropped fast, gazing up at them—Neil’s lean, commanding frame and Brandon’s towering bulk. Her masters, both of them, in their own ways.

Neil racked weights, smirking, while Brandon stripped to his shorts, flexing for her. “Fuck, you’re both so hot,” she murmured, the circlet amplifying her desire. She crawled to Brandon, hands trembling as she reached his thighs—hard as steel, warm under her palms. “Can I… worship you?” she asked, voice thick with need.

“Go on,” Neil said, lifting, his tone a mix of possession and amusement. “Show him what you’ve got.”

She started slow, reverent, her hands sliding up Brandon’s legs, tracing the thick cords of his quads. “Your muscles—they’re perfect,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his thigh, kissing the sweat-slick skin. She moved higher, hands roaming his abs—eight slabs of carved stone, flexing under her touch. She kissed there too, tongue flicking out to taste him, salty and raw. “So strong,” she whispered, awe dripping from her words as she worked up to his chest, palms flattening against the massive pecs, feeling them twitch as he breathed.

Brandon groaned softly, hands flexing at his sides. “Christ, love, you’re keen.”

She grinned, drunk on the circlet’s haze, and circled him, hands gliding over his lats, his traps—muscles she’d never seen so defined. Then she dropped lower, bolder, cupping his ass through his shorts. It was firm, round, a masterpiece of power, and she squeezed, moaning softly. “Your ass—fuck, it’s unreal,” she purred, pressing her face against it, kissing the taut curve through the fabric. She tugged the shorts down, slow and deliberate, revealing the full glory—hard, sculpted, begging for worship. Her lips found bare skin, trailing kisses across each cheek, her hands kneading as she lost herself in him.

Neil grunted through a rep, watching. “She’s all over you, mate. Don’t get too comfy.”

Brandon chuckled, voice rough. “Not complaining.” He shifted, letting her explore, and she did—hands and mouth worshipping every inch of his ass, the circlet flooding her with pleasure for her devotion. Her pussy throbbed, but Neil’s rule held her back—she’d save that for him.

Finally, she moved to his front, tugging the shorts fully off. His cock sprang free—thick, monstrous, a match for his jacked frame. She licked her lips, hands still on his ass, squeezing one last time. “Now this,” she said, voice husky, and leaned in, kissing the tip before wrapping her lips around him. She sucked slow at first, savoring the weight, the taste—salty, hot, overwhelming. Her tongue swirled, hands sliding up to grip his thighs again, feeling the power there as she took him deeper.

“Shit, she’s good,” Brandon rasped, hand fisting in her hair, guiding her gently. She moaned around him, the circlet rewarding her with waves of bliss, her body trembling as she worked him—sucking, swirling, submitting. Neil watched, lifting harder, a mix of pride and possession in his eyes.

She took him deeper, throat stretching, tears pricking her eyes, but the pleasure drowned it all. “So big,” she mumbled around him, pulling back to lick the length, then diving in again. Brandon’s hips bucked, a low growl escaping, and she doubled down, desperate to please. The circlet sang—serve, obey—and when he tensed, she knew it was coming.

“Fuck—here it is,” Brandon grunted, and she sucked harder, taking him as he erupted—hot, thick streams flooding her mouth. She swallowed it all, shuddering through her own circlet-fueled orgasm, sharp and blinding, her body quaking as she knelt there, spent.

Neil racked the bar, grinning. “Happy, mate?”

“Fuck yeah,” Brandon panted, pulling her up, steadying her wobbly legs. “She’s a keeper.”

Amelia wiped her lips, dazed, the circlet’s haze fading as Neil lifted it off. “You’re mine,” he said, kissing her hard, tasting Brandon on her tongue, then nodded at him. “But you can play with him too. Keeps the house ticking.”

She smiled, caught between them—Neil’s master, Brandon’s muscle god—her place in the mansion’s web sealed tight. “Thank you, master,” she murmured, then glanced at Brandon, still awestruck. “And you—those muscles are mine to worship anytime.”

Brandon smirked. “Anytime, love.” And as Neil clapped his shoulder, the gym hummed with their unspoken pact—Amelia bound to them both, a perfect fit in their chaotic kingdom.

Chloe sprawled across the mansion’s plush sectional sofa, legs kicked up on the armrest, her red tank top stretched tight over her outrageous tits. The living room buzzed with late afternoon light, streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood. Denise lounged in an armchair, legs tucked under her, wearing one of Neil’s oversized tees that still hugged her raindrop curves. Amelia perched on the opposite end of the sofa, blonde hair loose, tank top clinging to her frame, looking like she was still settling into the madness of this place. A bottle of rosé sat on the coffee table, half-empty, three glasses scattered around it—Chloe’s idea to loosen them up after a week of Neil’s whirlwind reign.

She swirled her glass, smirking. “So, ladies, how’s it feel being Neil’s little puppets? Circlet’s got us all on a leash, doesn’t it?” Her tone was teasing, but there was an edge—she’d been wrestling with her own loyalty lately, ever since Neil’s cum locked her in two weeks back.

Denise sipped her wine, rolling her eyes. “Puppet’s harsh. I’m his—yeah, no question—but it’s not like I’m brain-dead. I chose this. He’s a bastard, but he’s my bastard. That night after the party? Fucked me so good I knew I’d never leave.” She grinned, soft but smug, tracing the rim of her glass. “Trust’s shaky sometimes, but the sex—and the love—keeps me here.”

Amelia nodded, her cheeks flushing as she clutched her glass. “I get it. That first day in the shop, when he took me… I couldn’t shake it. The circlet—it’s like a drug. I begged to come here, and now I’m his too. Feels right, you know? Like I belong.” She glanced at them, shy but earnest. “You ever feel trapped by it?”

Chloe snorted, sitting up, her tits jiggling with the motion. “Trapped? Nah. I fought it at first—wanted to use these—” she cupped her massive breasts, giving them a playful squeeze—“to climb the ladder, not kneel for Neil. But at some point I guess I realised letting Neil run things isn’t so bad. Still got my edge, though. I’m not just his fuck-toy; I’m the one who tamed the street with these babies.” She smirked, proud.

Amelia’s eyes widened, wine pausing mid-sip. “You’re okay with that? I mean, I get it—he’s the master—but I’m still wrapping my head around sharing. Especially with Brandon in the mix now.” She bit her lip, gaze drifting. “Fuck, that man’s a god. Those muscles—I could worship them all day.”

Chloe laughed, loud and sharp. “Oh, you’ve got it bad for Bran, don’t you? Can’t blame you. He’s a bloody tank—those arms, that ass. I’ve tranced him with these—” she jiggled her tits again—“and had him eating me out, but Neil’s rule keeps it tame. Still, he’s a beast. You slept with him yet?”

“Yeah,” Amelia said, voice dropping, a grin tugging her lips. “Neil let me—said I could keep him happy, just no cum in my pussy. I sucked him off in the gym, worshipped every inch first—his abs, his ass, fuck, even his thighs. He’s so hot, it’s unreal. Neil’s my master, but Brandon… he’s something else.”

Denise leaned forward, intrigued. “Neil’s cool with that? He’s possessive as hell with me. Brandon’s solid, though—trustworthy. I don’t fancy him like you two, but I see the appeal. He’s got that quiet power. Keeps this place running while Neil plays king.”

Chloe nodded, sipping her rosé. “Brandon’s the rock here. Neil’s the spark—fucks us into submission, keeps us hooked—but Bran’s the one I’d trust not to screw us over. Had him under my tits’ spell a few times, and he still didn’t cross Neil’s lines. Respect, that. Still, I’d ride him silly if Neil loosened the leash.”

Amelia giggled, wine loosening her tongue. “God, imagine both of them at once. Neil commanding, Brandon just… overpowering. I’d melt.” She paused, then grinned. “Speaking of overpowering—let’s compare. These—” she cupped her chest—“aren’t small, but you two are next level.”

Chloe smirked, setting her glass down and yanking her tank top lower, letting her massive tits spill out—round, firm, defying gravity. “These are the champs. Circlet made ‘em huge—bolt-on blowjob machines, Neil calls ‘em. Hypnotize any guy in seconds. Gotta hide ‘em at work, but here? They rule.” She bounced them lightly, smirking at the jiggle.

Denise laughed, pulling Neil’s tee up to reveal her own full, teardrop-shaped, natural and perky, nipples peeking through the fabric before she dropped it. “Mine’s the circlet too—started small, but submission grew ‘em into these. No bra needed anymore, and Neil can’t keep his hands off. They’re not Chloe-level, but they’re perfect for me.”

Amelia tugged her tank top tight, showing off her own—smaller than the others but still generous, round and firm, pressing against the fabric. “These were decent before, but the circlet’s tweaking ‘em already. Not huge yet, but they’re getting there. Brandon loved ‘em when I pressed ‘em against him—Neil too. Guess I’m catching up.”

Chloe eyed them, grinning. “Denise, yours are classy—elegant, like you. Amelia, you’re on your way—give it a few more rounds with the circlet, and you’ll be busting out. Mine?” She hefted hers again. “Pure chaos. Built to wreck men’s minds. We’re a hell of a trio, aren’t we?”

Denise smirked, raising her glass. “Neil’s got a type—tits and loyalty. Brandon’s a bonus—keeps the house steady while we’re busy being Neil’s.”

Amelia clinked her glass, blushing. “To Neil—and Brandon. Master and muscle.”

Chloe laughed, clinking last. “To us—bound to Neil, drooling over Bran, and rocking the best tits in the game. Cheers, bitches.”

They drank, the rosé sharp and sweet, the room warm with their shared bond. Outside, the pool shimmered, and somewhere upstairs, Neil and Brandon’s voices rumbled faintly—masters of their world, with three women happily tethered, comparing their curves.

Chloe knelt between Neil’s legs in the mansion’s sprawling living room, her massive tits wrapped tight around his cock, slick with spit and sweat. The TV blared Lust Island’s finale—Brandon, shirtless and gleaming, powering through a muddy obstacle course, muscles rippling as he shoved a rival into the dirt. The crowd roared, and Neil’s grin widened, half at Brandon’s win, half at Chloe’s work. She smirked up at him, her red tank top yanked down, those outrageous, circlet-sculpted breasts bouncing as she slid them up and down his shaft, nipples grazing his skin. “Bran’s killing it, huh?” she purred, voice low and teasing, knowing damn well she had Neil’s focus split.

“Fuck yeah,” Neil grunted, eyes flicking between the screen and her cleavage, hands gripping the sofa cushions. “Mate’s a beast—look at him go.” His hips twitched, thrusting into her tits, the heat of him pulsing against her chest. Chloe loved this—owning him with her body, especially these hypnotic monsters she’d turned into weapons. Brandon might be the star on TV, but she was the one making Neil groan.

Across the room, Denise lounged on the armchair, legs crossed, her dark hair spilling over Neil’s tee she’d stolen again. Amelia perched on the sofa’s edge, blonde and restless, tank top hugging her growing curves. Both had been sipping rosé, chatting idly, but now their eyes narrowed, locked on Chloe’s performance. Denise set her glass down, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “Really, Chloe? Hogging him again?” she muttered, loud enough to cut through the TV’s noise.  
Amelia nodded, pouting. “Yeah, it’s always you and those tits. We’re right here, you know.” Her voice had an edge—jealousy, sharp and needy. Chloe caught it, smirking inwardly. *Good. Let ‘em squirm.*

Neil chuckled, glancing at them. “Plenty of me to go round, babes. Don’t—” His words cut off as Chloe squeezed her tits tighter, dragging them slow and deliberate, earning a low groan. His head tipped back, eyes half-lidded, Brandon’s victory lap fading to background noise.  
Denise huffed, sliding off the chair and onto the sofa beside Amelia. “Fine. Two can play at that.” She grabbed Amelia’s face, pulling her in for a kiss—soft at first, then hungry, lips crashing, tongues tangling. Amelia gasped into it, hands fumbling to Denise’s waist, yanking the tee up to expose those perfect, teardrop tits. Denise moaned, arching into her, fingers threading through Amelia’s blonde hair as they pressed closer, bodies grinding in a slow, deliberate show.

Neil’s head snapped up, eyes darting to Denise and Amelia, their lips locked in a hungry kiss, bodies grinding in a slow, deliberate show that screamed for his attention. His cock twitched hard between Chloe’s massive tits, the slick heat of her skin driving him wild, but the sight of his other girls—Denise’s perfect curves, Amelia’s eager hands—pulled at him, splitting his focus. “Well, fuck,” he rasped, voice thick with lust, his hips stuttering as he thrust into Chloe’s cleavage, torn between the sensations flooding him.

Chloe felt it—his attention slipping, his gaze drifting like a tide pulling away from her shore. Her scowl deepened, a flare of possessive fury igniting in her chest. *Not fucking happening.* She wasn’t about to let Denise and Amelia steal her spotlight, not when she had him right where she wanted. Her tits—those outrageous, circlet-sculpted weapons—were her throne, and Neil was hers to command. She straightened, spine arching, and thrust her chest forward, the lamplight catching every curve, making her round, impossibly full breasts gleam like polished marble. They bounced lightly with the motion, hypnotic as hell, their sheer presence a gravitational pull no man could resist.

“Eyes here, Neil,” she commanded, her voice a sultry blend of velvet and steel, laced with the raw power of her trance. She leaned in closer, her tits looming in his vision, filling his world with their perfect, glistening weight. “Neil, you *desperately* need to cum,” she purred, her words sinking into him like a spell, each syllable dripping with intent. “Until you do, *only* my tits exist. Nothing else matters—not Denise, not Amelia, not the fucking TV. Just these.” She gave them a slow, deliberate jiggle, the motion rippling through her chest, her nipples grazing the air, catching the light in a way that made them impossible to ignore.

Neil’s gaze snapped back to her, his eyes darkening as the trance took hold. His jaw slackened, lips parting slightly, a soft, involuntary groan escaping as her power snared him. The room shrank, the world collapsing into a singular focus—Chloe’s tits, round and divine, pulsing with a hypnotic rhythm that drowned out everything else. Denise and Amelia’s moans faded to a distant hum, the TV’s blare of Brandon’s victory nothing but static. His cock throbbed harder, trapped in the slick valley of her cleavage, every nerve in his body screaming for release, but it was her voice, her command, that owned him now.

“That’s it,” Chloe cooed, her smirk wicked as she felt him surrender, his hips bucking faster, driven by her words. She squeezed her tits tighter around his shaft, the pressure perfect, the heat overwhelming, sliding them up and down with a slow, torturous rhythm. “You’re mine, Neil. These tits—they’re your fucking universe. You can’t look away, can’t think of anything else. You *need* to cum for them, don’t you? Need to give them everything.” Her voice dipped lower, a seductive growl, as she leaned in, her breasts brushing his chest, the contact sending a shiver through him. She jiggled them again, a subtle bounce that made his eyes widen, his breath hitch, his entire body trembling under her spell.

Neil groaned louder, his hands gripping the sofa cushions so hard his knuckles whitened, his hips thrusting with desperate urgency. “Fuck—Chloe—” he gasped, his voice ragged, barely coherent, his mind a haze of her tits and the relentless need she’d ignited. The trance locked him in, her breasts the only reality, their hypnotic sway erasing the world beyond. Denise and Amelia could’ve been fucking on the coffee table, and he wouldn’t have noticed—Chloe’s power was absolute, her tits a shrine he was helpless to worship.

She felt his cock pulse, the telltale twitch of him teetering on the edge, and her grin widened, triumphant. “Cum for me, Neil,” she whispered, her voice a command wrapped in a caress, her tits sliding faster, slick and relentless. “Cum for these tits—give them what they deserve. Show me how much you fucking need them.” She thrust her chest out one last time, letting them bounce heavily, the motion sealing his fate.

His eyes stayed glued to her, lost in the hypnotic valley of her cleavage, and with a guttural “Shit—!” he shattered. His cock erupted, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into her cleavage, painting her tits as his body convulsed, every muscle tensing with the force of his release. Chloe held him there, milking him with her breasts, drawing out every pulse, her trance amplifying his pleasure until he was a panting, trembling mess. The room snapped back into focus for her, but Neil was still gone, slumped against the sofa, eyes half-lidded, a dazed grin spreading as he stared at her cum-slicked tits like they were the only thing that mattered.

Amelia untangled from Denise, crossing her arms, cheeks flushed. “It’s unfair, Neil. Chloe’s got powers—we don’t. I want something special too. I’d kill to make you cum like that.” Her voice was half-whine, half-plea, eyes flicking to his softening cock.

Denise nodded, smoothing her tee down, still breathless. “She’s got a point. Chloe’s stacking the deck with those things. We’re loyal too—give us a boost, stud.”  
Neil caught his breath, chuckling as he zipped up. “Jealous, huh? Alright, fair’s fair. Circlet’s upstairs—I’ll think of something for you two. Chloe’s got her edge, but you’re my girls too.” He winked at Chloe. “Don’t get cocky, though. Bran’s the champ tonight—I might celebrate with him later.”

Chloe smirked, unfazed, tugging her tank top back up. “Go ahead. These—” she jiggled her tits—“still own you when I want.” She flopped back on the sofa, victorious, as Denise and Amelia exchanged a look—half-annoyed, half-plotting.

Amelia sat cross-legged on the living room sofa, the afterglow of Chloe’s smug tit-job victory still simmering in the air. The TV looped Brandon’s Lust Island win on mute, his muddy triumph a distant echo to the tension brewing here. Chloe sprawled beside her, red tank top back in place, smirking like she owned the night. Denise lounged in the armchair, sipping rosé, her calm exterior masking the flicker of jealousy Amelia had caught earlier. Neil stood by the coffee table, twirling the circlet, that cocky grin playing on his lips as he eyed them all.

“Alright, babes,” Neil said, voice rough with amusement. “Amelia’s got a point—Chloe’s stacking the deck with those hypno-tits. Time to even it up.” He stepped toward Amelia, the circlet glinting in his hand. “You want something special? Let’s give it to you.”

Amelia’s heart thudded, excitement prickling her skin. “Yes, master,” she breathed, scooting to the edge of the sofa, eyes wide. Chloe sat up, frowning, but Neil ignored her, sliding the circlet onto Amelia’s head. The familiar bliss crashed in—submission flooding her, her body humming, nipples stiffening under her tank top. She gazed up at him, adoring, ready.

Neil crouched, locking eyes. “Here’s your power, Amelia. When you wear this, your touch fills anyone with ecstatic pleasure—intense, overwhelming, addictive. They’ll crave you, lose their damn minds for more. And when a cock’s in your pussy, you can overload it with so much pleasure it’s unbearable—driving ‘em wild till they cum. The more you submit to me, the stronger it gets. Got it?”

“Yes, master,” she whispered, voice trembling as the circlet tingled, rewriting her. A warmth sparked in her fingertips, spreading through her skin, electric and alive. She felt it—power, raw and waiting.

Chloe shot to her feet, hands on hips. “Wait a fucking minute, Neil! She gets *that*? Hypnotic tits are one thing, but overloading cocks? That’s bullshit—she’ll steal you every time!” Her voice was sharp, possessive, those massive tits jiggling with her indignation.

Neil smirked, stepping back. “Too late, Chloe. It’s done. Let’s see how it plays out.”

Amelia didn’t hesitate. She rose, the circlet’s haze amplifying her confidence, and turned to Chloe. “You’re not the only one who can play,” she said, soft but firm. Before Chloe could snap back, Amelia lunged, hands darting to those outrageous breasts. She squeezed, fingers sinking into the firm, warm flesh, and willed her new power into them. A jolt fired from her palms—ecstasy, sharp and searing, flooding Chloe’s tits.

Chloe gasped, eyes widening, then fluttering shut. “Oh—fuck—” she moaned, legs buckling as pleasure crashed through her, nipples hardening under Amelia’s grip. Her protests melted into a whimper, hands grabbing Amelia’s wrists—not to pull away, but to hold her there. “Shit, that’s… too good…” Her body trembled, chest heaving, as Amelia kneaded, each touch a pulse of bliss that drowned her resistance.

“See?” Amelia purred, leaning in, her lips brushing Chloe’s ear. “You don’t get to hog him anymore.” She squeezed harder, power surging, and Chloe sank to her knees, moaning, yielding, her hypnotic tits useless against the onslaught. “You’re mine now,” Amelia whispered, then kissed her—deep, hungry, tongue claiming Chloe’s as the pleasure locked her surrender.

Denise watched, glass frozen mid-sip, eyes narrowing. “Amelia, what the hell—” she started, but Amelia spun, breaking the kiss, leaving Chloe panting on the floor. She crossed to Denise, hands outstretched, and grabbed her face, pulling her into a kiss before she could finish. Lips crashed, soft and fierce, and Amelia poured her power in, ecstasy sparking from her mouth, her fingers, into Denise’s skin.

Denise stiffened, then melted, a muffled “Mmmph—” escaping as pleasure flooded her. Her hands clutched Amelia’s shoulders, tee riding up, exposing those perfect teardrop tits. Amelia slid a hand down, cupping one, thumb brushing the nipple, sending another jolt. Denise arched, gasping into the kiss, her resistance crumbling. “Fuck—Neil—she’s—too much—” she panted, but her body pressed closer, yielding to the bliss.

Amelia pulled back, smirking, her hands still sparking. “No objections now, right?” She turned to Neil, who stood there, cock tenting his jeans, grin wide and predatory. “Master,” she said, voice thick with need, “let me show you.”

He didn’t need asking twice. Neil shoved his jeans down, boxers following, his thick cock springing free—hard, pulsing, ready. Amelia stripped fast—tank top off, jeans and panties hitting the floor—her body bare, curves gleaming in the lamplight. She straddled him on the sofa, guiding his cock to her pussy, wet and aching. She sank down, taking him in, and *willed* her power—ecstasy exploding from her walls, clamping around him.

“Fuck!” Neil roared, hands gripping her hips, eyes rolling back as pleasure hit him like a tidal wave. Her pussy squeezed, overloading him, every thrust a burst of unbearable bliss. Chloe and Denise tried to move—Chloe crawling, Denise staggering—but Amelia shot them a look, hands outstretched. She touched Chloe’s shoulder, Denise’s thigh, sending jolts through them both. They collapsed, moaning, bodies twitching with residual pleasure, unable to object.

“Stay down,” Amelia ordered, voice sharp, then focused on Neil. She rode him hard, hips grinding, her power surging—each slide of his cock inside her a symphony of ecstasy she controlled. “Cum for me, master,” she gasped, leaning in, kissing his neck, her hands roaming his chest, sparking bliss everywhere.

Neil groaned, guttural and wrecked, hips bucking wildly. “Shit—Amelia—gonna—” His cock throbbed, and she clenched, overloading him one last time. He erupted—hot, thick streams flooding her pussy, his body shaking as the pleasure tore through him, amplified by her touch. She shuddered, her own orgasm crashing in, the circlet rewarding her submission with a blinding high.  
He slumped back, panting, cum dripping down her thighs as she slid off, triumphant. Chloe and Denise lay sprawled, dazed, still trembling from her power. “That’s… not fair,” Chloe mumbled, voice slurred, hands weakly cupping her tits. “She’s… too strong now…”

Denise nodded, breathless. “Neil… you’ve created a monster…”

Amelia grinned, wiping sweat from her brow, the circlet gleaming on her head. “Fair’s fair, girls. Master wanted me to compete—I did.” She looked at Neil, who caught his breath, grinning back.

“Fuck me,” he rasped, pulling her close, kissing her hard. “You’re a goddamn weapon now. Chloe’s got her tits, but you—you’re unstoppable up close.”

Chloe scowled, sitting up, still shaky. “Fine. She wins this round. But I’m not done yet.” Denise just laughed, soft and resigned, pulling her tee down.

Amelia basked in it—Neil’s cum sealing her power, the girls subdued, her touch now a force to rival Chloe’s hypnosis. The TV flickered—Brandon hoisting his trophy—but here, she’d just claimed her own victory, and the mansion’s pecking order trembled under her new reign.

***  
Amelia paced the mansion’s quiet halls, the late morning sun spilling through the glass walls, casting long shadows on the hardwood. The buzz from last night still hummed in her veins—her new “Touch of Ecstatic Overload” power had floored Chloe and Denise, and Neil’s cum had sealed her triumph. The circlet sat upstairs, but its gift lingered, a tingling warmth in her fingertips, begging to be used. She’d woken early, restless, while the others slept off the chaos. Then she heard it—the front door creaking open, heavy footsteps dragging across the threshold.

Brandon stumbled in, fresh from his Lust Island victory, looking like he’d been chewed up and spat out. His dark hair was matted with sweat and mud, his tank top clung to his massive frame, and those hazel eyes were bleary with exhaustion. He’d been gone for the live finale, but the TV had shown him dominating—now, he was a champ reduced to a shambling mess, lugging a duffel bag and a shiny trophy. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, dropping the bag with a thud. “Need my bed.”

Amelia perked up, stepping into view, her tank top and shorts hugging her curves. “Hey, champ,” she said, voice soft but eager. “Rough night?”

He glanced at her, managing a tired grin. “Oi, Amelia. Yeah, muddy bastard of a course. Won, though—trashed ‘em all.” He hefted the trophy, then winced, rolling a shoulder. “Body’s knackered. Gonna crash.”

She bit her lip, eyes roaming his bulk—those cannonball biceps, the slabbed chest, thighs like oaks. Even wrecked, he was a goddamn beast, and her new power itched to play. “Let me help,” she offered, stepping closer. “I’ll massage you—speed your recovery. You deserve it after that win.”

Brandon raised a brow, then shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Could use it. Upstairs, then.” He trudged off, Amelia trailing, her pulse quickening. His shorts rode low, showing off that V-line and the firm curve of his ass—fuck, she wanted to touch him everywhere.

In his room—a sprawl of dark wood, gym gear, and a king-sized bed—he flopped face-down, groaning into the pillow. “Go for it, love,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Back’s killing me.”

Amelia straddled his hips, knees sinking into the mattress, and peeled his tank top off, revealing the full expanse of his back—rippling lats, traps bulging, sweat-slick and warm. Her hands hovered, then pressed down, fingers digging into his shoulders. She willed her power—ecstasy sparking from her touch, a subtle jolt at first, easing into his muscles.

Brandon groaned, low and rough. “Shit, that’s good…” His body relaxed, then tensed differently—arousal flickering as the pleasure seeped deeper. She smirked, working her hands down his spine, each knead a pulse of bliss, loosening knots and stoking heat. Her fingers traced his lats, thumbs pressing into the small of his back, power flowing—warm, electric, addictive.

“Fuck,” he growled, shifting under her, voice thickening. “What’re you doing to me? Feels… unreal.” His hips twitched, grinding into the bed, and she felt the shift—he wasn’t just recovering; he was waking up, a beast stirring.

She leaned in, breath hot against his ear. “Just helping, champ. Relax—let me take care of you.” Her hands slid to his sides, brushing his obliques, then lower, tugging his shorts down. His ass came into view—firm, sculpted, a masterpiece—and she kneaded it, power surging. Brandon moaned louder, a primal rumble, his body trembling as pleasure overloaded his senses.

Amelia’s hands roamed Brandon’s thighs—thick as tree trunks, corded with muscle, trembling under her touch as her “Touch of Ecstatic Overload” power sparked through her fingertips. Each press sent a pulse of bliss into his skin, a tingling warmth that melted his exhaustion and ignited something primal. His cock loomed before her, a monstrous tower of flesh—thick, veined, pulsing with need, precum glistening at the tip like a forbidden jewel. Her mouth watered, her pussy clenching with desperate want, but Neil’s rule echoed in her mind: *“He doesn’t cum in your pussy. That’s mine.”* Loyalty held her back, a steel thread through her haze, but her lips were free, and she was ravenous to please.

Brandon sat back, his massive frame dominating the bed, legs spread wide, a beast unleashed. His hazel eyes burned with lust, dark and wild, locked on her as he growled, voice raw with need. “Right—his bloody rule. Fuck it, then—use that mouth.” His cock twitched, an invitation she couldn’t resist, and the air between them crackled with anticipation.

She leaned in, hands gripping his thighs for balance, feeling the heat radiating off his skin, the faint salt of sweat mixing with the musky scent of his arousal. Her lips parted, hovering just above the tip, her breath teasing the sensitive head, making it pulse. She flicked her tongue out, a tentative taste—salty, hot, overwhelming—and Brandon’s low groan rumbled through the room, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. Her power surged, a warm current flowing from her lips, and she pressed a soft kiss to the tip, letting a spark of ecstasy jolt through him.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his hands flexing at his sides, muscles tensing as the pleasure hit. Encouraged, she wrapped her lips around the head, slow and deliberate, her tongue swirling in lazy circles, tracing the ridge where the tip met the shaft. Her power amplified every touch—each flick of her tongue a burst of bliss, each gentle suck a wave that crashed through his nerves. His cock filled her mouth, heavy and thick, stretching her lips as she took him deeper, inch by inch, savoring the weight, the heat, the sheer *size* of him.

“Christ, Amelia—what’s that?” Brandon’s voice was thick, almost slurred, his head tipping back as his hips twitched, instinctively pushing toward her. Her hands slid higher, fingers digging into the hard planes of his thighs, kneading the muscle as she pushed more power through her touch. The ecstasy flowed like a current, loosening his battered body, stoking his arousal into something feral. She hummed softly, the vibration rippling through his cock, and his groan turned guttural, a primal sound that made her pussy throb, wet and aching, desperate for what she couldn’t have.

She pulled back slightly, lips gliding along his length, her tongue trailing the underside, teasing the sensitive vein that pulsed with his heartbeat. Her power flared again, a sharp pulse of pleasure that made his cock twitch hard in her mouth, precum flooding her tongue with a salty tang. She moaned around him, the sound muffled, and doubled down, taking him deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate his size. Her lips stretched wide, the corners burning slightly, but the circlet’s reward—a tingling warmth in her core—drowned out any discomfort. Her hands moved to his balls, cupping them gently, her fingers kneading with just enough pressure to spark more bliss, her power making them tighten under her touch.

“Fuuuck!” Brandon roared, his hands finally moving, fisting in her blonde hair, guiding her with a gentle but firm grip. His hips bucked, driving his cock deeper, and she took it, her throat clenching around him, her power surging to overload his senses. Each bob of her head was a calculated assault—sucking hard, tongue swirling, lips gliding, every motion laced with ecstatic jolts that pushed him closer to the edge. She could feel him unraveling, his massive body trembling, muscles flexing under her hands, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Amelia—shit—that’s insane!” His voice broke, raw and desperate, his grip tightening in her hair as he fought to hold on. She glanced up, catching his gaze—eyes wild, pupils blown, sweat beading on his brow, his chiseled jaw clenched with the effort of restraint. The sight of him, this muscle-bound beast reduced to a quivering mess by her mouth, sent a thrill through her, her own arousal spiking. Her pussy clenched, slick and needy, but she channeled it into her work, sucking harder, her tongue flicking relentlessly against the tip before plunging back down, taking him to the hilt.

Her hands roamed, one staying on his balls, rolling them gently, sparking pleasure with every touch, while the other slid up his thigh to his abs—eight slabs of carved stone, flexing under her palm. She pushed more power through her fingers, letting ecstasy ripple across his torso, making his abs tighten, his whole body shuddering. The room filled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of her mouth—slurping, sucking, the occasional pop as she pulled back to catch her breath, only to dive in again, relentless.

Brandon’s groans grew louder, a primal symphony that echoed off the walls. “Gonna—fuck—cum—” he snarled, his voice a warning, his body tensing like a coiled spring. She felt it—the twitch of his cock, the tightening of his balls—and pushed her power to its peak, a final surge of ecstasy flooding him. Her lips clamped tight, throat working, tongue swirling, and she took him deep, nose brushing the coarse hair at his base, the musky scent of him overwhelming her senses.

He erupted with a guttural roar, his cock pulsing violently as hot, thick streams of cum flooded her mouth. The force of it was overwhelming—endless, salty, spilling across her tongue in waves. She swallowed hard, gulping it down, her throat working to keep up as her power amplified his orgasm, drawing it out, making each pulse a shuddering explosion of pleasure.

Brandon’s hands loosened in her hair, his body slumping, chest heaving as he panted, cock still twitching in her mouth. She pulled back slowly, lips gliding along his length, a final kiss to the tip before she sat back on her heels, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Her chest heaved, her tank top clinging to her sweat-slick skin, her eyes locked on him—dazed, triumphant, utterly spent. “Fuck, champ,” she whispered, voice hoarse, a grin tugging her lips. “You’re welcome.”

Brandon let out a breathless laugh, his massive frame sprawling across the bed, one arm flung over his eyes. “Jesus, Amelia… that was—fuckin’ unreal.” His voice was softer now, the edge of his arousal fading, replaced by a bone-deep relief. The tension in his muscles had melted, his body loose and languid, the exhaustion from the Lust Island finale no longer weighing him down. “Feel like a new man,” he mumbled, a faint grin curving his lips. “Whatever that was… you’re a bloody miracle.”

She smiled, pride swelling in her chest, her power still tingling in her fingertips. “Just taking care of the champ,” she said, sliding off the bed, her legs wobbly from her own release. She adjusted her shorts, her pussy still throbbing with unfulfilled need, but Neil’s rule held firm—she’d save that for her master.

Brandon rolled onto his side, propping himself on an elbow, his hazel eyes clearer now, the bleary haze gone. “Gotta crash, love,” he said, voice heavy with the pull of sleep. “That… took it out of me.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing with a groan, his cock softening but still impressive, hanging heavy as he kicked off his shorts completely. Naked, he was a goddamn sculpture—every muscle defined, sweat-slick skin catching the morning light filtering through the curtains. He grabbed a towel from the chair, wiping himself down with lazy swipes, then tossed it aside and climbed back into bed.

“Bed’s calling,” he muttered, pulling the sheets over his massive frame, the mattress creaking under his weight. He settled face-down, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other flung across the bed, his trophy glinting on the nightstand. “Cheers, Amelia. You’re alright.” His voice slurred, sleep already claiming him, and within moments, his breathing deepened, a soft snore rumbling from his chest. His body relaxed completely, the beast at rest, rejuvenated but surrendered to exhaustion.

Amelia watched him for a moment, her heart pounding with a mix of awe and satisfaction. She’d tamed the champ, her power leaving him blissed-out and whole, but the ache in her core reminded her of her own limits. Neil’s rule, Neil’s claim—she’d honor it, but fuck, she wanted more. Quietly, she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her, the mansion’s halls silent except for the faint hum of her own restless desire.

***

The gym hummed with the clank of weights and the low thump of a bass-heavy track spilling from the speakers. Late afternoon light streamed through the mansion’s glass walls, glinting off the polished dumbbells and the sweat-slick skin of Neil and Brandon. Neil racked a barbell, his lean muscles taut, chest heaving from a heavy set of squats. The weight of running the household, juggling Denise, Chloe, and now Amelia, pressing on him. He needed his reset, that blissful release only the circlet could give when Brandon took charge.

Brandon, a hulking beast in a black tank top and shorts, curled a pair of massive dumbbells, his biceps ballooning, veins popping across his forearms. Fresh off his Lust Island victory, he radiated power, every move deliberate, his hazel eyes sharp as they flicked to Neil. The circlet sat on a towel by the bench, its silver gleam a silent promise. Neil wiped his brow, catching Brandon’s gaze, and nodded at it. “Mate, time for my reset,” he said, voice casual but edged with need. “Slap that thing on me—clear my head.”

Brandon set the dumbbells down with a thud, a slow grin spreading. “Sure, mate. Usual drill, yeah?” He crossed the room, grabbing the circlet, but his mind churned. *Neil’s putty with this on—agrees to anything.* Loyalty had kept Brandon in check—Neil was a solid mate, dragging him through career slumps, bulking him up with the circlet—but that rule about Amelia’s pussy grated. Her worshipful hands, that mouth on his cock yesterday—she was fire, and Brandon deserved a full taste. Lust Island champ, house owner, loyal as fuck—he’d earned it. He’d wait, let Neil sink deep into the haze, desperate, before making his move.

Neil stripped off his shirt, tossing it aside, and stood ready, his lean frame glistening with sweat, cock already twitching in his shorts at the thought of submission. Brandon stepped close, towering over him, and slid the circlet onto Neil’s head. The shift was instant—Neil’s knees buckled, hitting the gym floor with a soft thud, his eyes glazing over as blissful submissiveness crashed through him. His cock sprang to life, tenting his shorts, throbbing with need. Brandon loomed above, a muscle god carved from stone, every ripple of his physique screaming power. The circlet whispered in Neil’s mind—*serve him, please him, submit*—and a deeper call pulsed: *ultimate pleasure, suck his cock, surrender completely.*

“Master,” Neil breathed, voice trembling with awe, hands reaching instinctively for Brandon’s thighs, fingers brushing the hard muscle. His gaze locked on the bulge in Brandon’s shorts—huge, straining, a promise of ecstasy. “Please… let me serve you,” he murmured, lips parting, saliva pooling as the circlet stoked his desperation. His balls tightened, cum churning, every nerve screaming for the act that would drown him in bliss.

Brandon smirked, folding his arms, biceps flexing as he savored the control. “Keen, aren’t you, mate?” he said, voice low and smug. “Look at you—down there, begging for it. Reckon you’d do anything for a taste, yeah?” He stepped closer, the bulge inches from Neil’s face, letting the anticipation build. Neil’s hands trembled, clutching Brandon’s thighs, his breath hot and ragged against the fabric.

“Yes, master,” Neil gasped, eyes wide, locked on the prize. “Anything—please, let me suck you. Need it… the circlet… it’s everything.” His voice cracked, raw with want, his cock leaking precum, staining his shorts. The gym faded—weights, mirrors, the hum of the speakers—nothing existed but Brandon’s cock and the promise of ultimate pleasure.

Brandon’s grin widened, sensing the moment. “Alright, mate, but let’s talk first. That rule of yours—Amelia’s pussy’s off-limits. Bit harsh, don’t you think? I’ve been loyal—kept your back, let you lot live here, won fuckin’ my show. Reckon I deserve her, proper. Let me cum in her pussy, and you can have my cock right now—deal?”

Neil’s haze deepened, the circlet blurring his thoughts, but the offer cut through. His loyalty to Amelia, his claim on her, flickered—then melted under the weight of his need. He licked his lips, staring at Brandon’s bulge, the circlet’s call overwhelming. “Yeah… okay,” he mumbled, voice thick. “You can have her pussy, master, whenever you want” A faint grin tugged his lips, the haze loosening his secrets. “Want all the girls pregnant, you know? Denise, Chloe, Amelia—my kids, my legacy. But… guess you can have one too. Fair’s fair.”

Brandon’s grin widened, triumph surging through him. *Got him.* But he wasn’t done. “Good mate. But there’s more. You respect my cock, yeah? Biggest in the house, and you know it. Say it—tell me you respect it, need not to challenge it.”

Neil groaned, his body trembling, the circlet’s bliss tying his submission to Brandon’s words. “Fuck, yes—your cock’s the best, master. So big, so thick… I respect it, need it. Fuck, I want it in my mouth—please.” His hands reached out, hesitant, then dropped, waiting for permission, his cock leaking through his shorts, driven wild by the haze.

“Go on, mate,” Brandon rasped, gripping the base of his cock, guiding it to Neil’s mouth. “Earn that pleasure.” Neil didn’t hesitate, his lips wrapping around the head, tongue swirling the salty precum, a jolt of ecstasy crashing through him as the circlet rewarded his submission. He sucked slow at first, savoring the weight, the heat, his mouth stretching to take the massive girth. His hands gripped Brandon’s thighs, fingers digging into muscle, grounding him as he worked, each bob of his head a surrender to the bliss.

“Fuck, yeah,” Brandon groaned, hand fisting in Neil’s hair, guiding him deeper. Neil’s tongue traced the underside, teasing the sensitive vein, his lips gliding along the shaft, wet and eager. The circlet amplified every sensation—each suck a pulse of pleasure, each moan vibrating through Brandon’s cock, stoking his arousal. Neil pushed deeper, throat relaxing, taking him to the hilt, nose brushing the coarse hair at Brandon’s base, the musky scent filling his senses. Tears pricked his eyes from the stretch, but the bliss drowned it, his cock throbbing, untouched but leaking steadily.

“Christ, you’re good at this,” Brandon growled, hips bucking, driving his cock deeper. Neil moaned, the sound muffled, his throat clenching around the intrusion, the circlet flooding him with waves of pleasure for his devotion. His hands slid up, one cupping Brandon’s balls, rolling them gently, the other gripping his ass—firm, sculpted, flexing under his palm. He kneaded it, lost in worship, the act of submission pushing him closer to the edge.

The gym filled with wet, rhythmic slurps, Neil’s desperate moans, Brandon’s ragged groans. “Keep going, mate,” Brandon rasped, voice thick, his grip tightening in Neil’s hair. “Fuckin’ desperate for it, aren’t you?” Neil’s head bobbed faster, sloppy and fervent, his tongue swirling, lips sucking hard, the circlet’s promise—*ultimate pleasure*—within reach. His own cock pulsed, precum pooling on the floor, his balls tight, ready to explode without a touch.

Brandon tensed, his cock twitching violently. “Shit—here it comes!” he snarled, hips stuttering. Neil doubled down, throat working, sucking with everything he had, desperate for the flood. Brandon erupted, hot, thick streams of cum blasting down Neil’s throat, overwhelming, endless. Neil swallowed hard, gulping it down, the salty heat triggering the circlet’s peak—a blinding orgasm ripping through him, his cock spraying wild across the floor, untouched, his body shuddering with the force of it. Stars burst behind his eyes, the ultimate pleasure consuming him, every nerve alight as he rode the high, lost in submission.

Brandon shuddered, emptying himself, then pulled back, panting, his cock still twitching as Neil slumped, dazed, lips slick, eyes glassy with worship. “Fuck, mate,” Brandon said, catching his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. He steadied himself, then leaned down, voice firm but calm. “Listen up, Neil. You won’t remember this—none of it. Just that you love our gym sessions, gets you reset, feels fuckin’ great. You agreed I can have Amelia’s pussy—cum in her, whatever. And deep down, you’ll respect my cock—biggest in the house, yeah? It’s subconscious, but it’s there. Got it?”

“Yes, master,” Neil mumbled, still dazed, the circlet’s haze fading as Brandon lifted it off. Reality snapped back, and Neil blinked, standing, a grin spreading as he grabbed a towel, wiping sweat—not cum—from his face. “Fuck, mate, that was a good one,” he said, voice light, oblivious to the ache in his jaw or the wet mess in his shorts. “Always feel like a king after these. Cheers for spotting me—and, uh, reckon you can have a go with Amelia’s pussy. Fair’s fair, yeah? You’re solid.”

Brandon smirked, tucking his cock away, zipping up. “Cheers, mate. Appreciate it.” He clapped Neil on the shoulder, his bulk towering, a quiet triumph in his eyes. *Respect my cock, alright. And Amelia’s mine.* The gym hummed on, weights waiting, their pact sealed in sweat and submission, Neil none the wiser, his trust in Brandon ironclad.

The mansion’s halls thrummed with late morning quiet, the sun spilling through glass walls, casting sharp shadows on the hardwood. Neil lounged in the living room, flipping through his phone, the circlet glinting on the coffee table beside him. Denise was out shopping, Amelia was somewhere upstairs, and Chloe was likely primping for another day of scheming. The peace felt fragile, a thin veneer over the mansion’s web of desire and control. Then it hit—a piercing scream of pleasure, raw and unrestrained, echoing from the upper floor. Amelia.

Neil’s head snapped up, phone forgotten, as another scream followed, laced with gasps and moans. “Oh, fuck—Brandon!” Her voice was wrecked, trembling with ecstasy, each cry punctuated by the rhythmic creak of a bedframe. Neil’s cock twitched, hardening in his jeans, a primal heat surging through him. The image seared into his mind—Amelia, her curves yielding, legs spread, taking Brandon’s monster cock, that thick, veined beast splitting her open. Her blonde hair tangled, lips parted in those desperate screams, submitting utterly to Brandon’s power. It was hot—fuck, it was *too* hot—her worshipful devotion to the muscle god, his massive frame dominating her, claiming what Neil had ruled.

“Fuck, yes—Bran!” Amelia’s cry hit Neil like a jolt, her pleasure unmistakable, laced with the abandon of finally taking Brandon’s monster cock. Another scream, higher, broken by moans—“So big—fuck, harder!”—and Neil’s cock twitched in his jeans, a hot surge of arousal flooding him. He pictured her—blonde hair wild, curves trembling, submitting to Brandon’s bulk, that massive cock stretching her pussy, claiming what Neil had ruled his. The image was vivid, primal, and fuck, it turned him on, her surrender to Brandon’s power stirring something deep, a strange thrill in her yielding to that beastly dick.

Then it soured. Anger flared, white-hot, burning through the haze. *She was supposed to be his.* He’d barred Brandon from Amelia’s pussy—*his* territory—and somehow, in that gym session two days ago, Brandon had talked him into lifting it. Neil’s jaw clenched, the faint ache there flaring, a ghost of something he couldn’t place. He remembered agreeing, grinning like an idiot, saying Brandon deserved it, but the details were foggy, just a blur of weights and satisfaction. That smug bastard had played him, used their “mate” bullshit to get what he wanted. Amelia’s screams hit a new pitch—“Oh god, Brandon, I’m cumming!”—and Neil’s fists balled. She was *his* to claim, his to breed, and Brandon was stealing that, flooding her pussy with cum that should’ve been Neil’s.

He stood, snatching the circlet, its cool metal grounding his fury. If Brandon thought he could outmaneuver him, Neil would reassert control, starting with the one woman who’d always pushed back—Chloe. Her cunning, her hypnotic tits, her gold-digging edge—she’d be his, fully, a mother to his legacy. He stormed through the mansion, boots thudding, until he reached her room. The door was ajar, and there she was—Chloe, sprawled on her bed, scrolling her phone, red tank top stretched over those outrageous tits, shorts barely covering her ass. Her jet-black hair spilled over the pillow, and she glanced up, smirking. “Oi, Neil. What’s got you all—?”

He didn’t let her finish. Crossing the room in two strides, he loomed over her, circlet in hand. “Shut it,” he snapped, voice rough with anger and need. Her smirk faltered, eyes widening as he slid the circlet onto her head. The shift was instant—her body relaxed, tension melting, her gaze softening into adoring submission. Her nipples stiffened under her top, pussy slick with want, every nerve yielding to him. “Master,” she breathed, the word a prayer, her voice thick with the circlet’s haze.

Neil’s cock strained against his jeans, the sight of her—pliant, eager, his—stoking his fire. He yanked his shirt off, tossing it aside, and climbed onto the bed, straddling her hips. “You’re mine, Chloe,” he growled, unzipping his jeans, freeing his cock—thick, hard, pulsing with intent. “Gonna fuck you proper, fill that pussy with my cum. You’re gonna love being one of the mothers of my children, aren’t you?”

Chloe’s eyes locked on his cock, her lips parting, the circlet forcing her compliance. “Yes, master,” she whispered, voice trembling with forced devotion, her body arching toward him, thighs spreading instinctively. The words were automatic, her will drowned in the circlet’s power, but her pussy glistened, wet and ready, betraying her body’s response.

He didn’t wait. Shoving her shorts down, he exposed her trimmed patch of dark hair, her slit slick and inviting. He lined up, the head of his cock brushing her entrance, and thrust in—hard, deep, filling her in one stroke. Chloe gasped, a sharp cry escaping, her pussy clenching around him, tight and hot, pulling him deeper. “Fuck,” Neil grunted, hips slamming into hers, the bed creaking under his force. Each thrust was a claim, a rebuke to Brandon’s betrayal, his anger fueling every move. Chloe’s moans filled the room, raw and desperate, her body yielding completely, the circlet ensuring her submission.

“You want my kids, don’t you?” he rasped, one hand gripping her hip, the other tangling in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. He pounded harder, cock stretching her, hitting that spot that made her shudder. “Gonna breed you, Chloe—make you mine forever.”

“Yes, master,” she moaned, the words spilling out, her voice breaking as her pussy spasmed, pleasure overwhelming her resistance. Her tits bounced with each thrust, those hypnotic monsters jiggling under her top, and Neil grabbed them, squeezing hard, thumbs brushing her nipples. The sensation pushed her higher, her moans turning to screams, echoing like Amelia’s had, a symphony of submission.

He fucked her relentlessly, hips a blur, the wet slap of their bodies drowning out the distant sounds of Brandon and Amelia. His anger mixed with arousal, the thought of Chloe swollen with his child, bound to him, driving him wild. “You’ll love it,” he growled, leaning down, lips brushing her ear. “Carrying my kid, being my perfect slut-mother. Say it.”

“Yes, master,” she cried, tears pricking her eyes from the intensity, her pussy clenching tighter, milking him. “I’ll love it—your child, master, please!” The circlet left her no choice, her words fervent, her body betraying her cunning mind, lost in the haze of his command.

Neil’s thrusts stuttered, the pressure building, his balls tightening. With a final, brutal thrust, he erupted—hot, thick ropes of cum flooding her pussy, spilling deep, claiming her. Chloe screamed, her own orgasm triggered by the circlet’s magic, her body convulsing, pussy spasming around him, drawing every drop. Her thighs trembled, chest heaving, as waves of pleasure crashed through her, sealing her fate.

He collapsed onto her, panting, sweat-slick, his cock still buried in her heat. Chloe lay dazed, the circlet’s haze fading as he lifted it off, but the loyalty held—her eyes soft, adoring, the seed of his child already taking root in her mind. “Good girl,” he muttered, zipping up, standing. “Rest up. You’re mine now.”

As he left, Chloe’s voice followed, soft but certain. “Yes, master.” The door clicked shut, and Neil’s anger cooled, replaced by a grim satisfaction. Brandon could have Amelia’s pussy, but Chloe was his, pregnant with his legacy. The mansion’s balance shifted, and Neil was still the fucking king.

***

Amelia sat on the edge of her bed, the mansion’s morning stillness pressing against her chest like a weight. Sunlight streamed through the glass walls, glinting off the pool outside, but her mind churned with guilt. Two days ago, Brandon’s cock had claimed her pussy—his massive, monstrous length driving her to screams that echoed through the house—and she’d loved every second, her body yielding to him in ways she hadn’t thought possible. But the fallout had been brutal. Neil’s anger, his possessive fury, had scorched the air when he’d heard her, and though he’d fucked Chloe to reassert his dominance, the rift between him and Brandon lingered like a bruise. She’d caused this, her desperate need for Brandon’s body fracturing the trust between the men she adored. *I have to fix it*, she thought, her fingers tingling with the restless hum of her “Touch of Ecstatic Overload” power, a gift from the circlet that could spark bliss with a touch. If she could bring them together, pleasure them as one, maybe she could mend what she’d broken.

She found them in the gym, the clank of weights and Brandon’s low grunts filling the air. Neil spotted Brandon on the bench press, his lean frame taut, while Brandon’s massive bulk—biceps like cannonballs, chest a fortress—powered through reps, sweat slicking his dark hair. The circlet sat on a towel nearby, but Amelia didn’t need it; her power was enough. She stepped in, her tank top and shorts hugging her curves, her blonde hair loose, and cleared her throat. “Guys,” she said, voice soft but firm, “we need to talk.”

Neil racked the bar, sitting up, his eyes narrowing. “What’s this, Amelia?” His tone was sharp, still edged with the resentment she’d sparked. Brandon paused, wiping sweat from his brow, his hazel eyes curious but guarded. The tension between them was palpable, a silent fracture she’d widened.

“I fucked up,” she admitted, stepping closer, her hands clasped to keep them from trembling. “I wanted you, Bran, and I begged Neil to let me have you. But I didn’t mean to drive a wedge between you two. You’re mates—solid, loyal—and I hate that I’ve messed that up.” Her voice cracked, tears pricking her eyes. “Let me make it right. I can… please you both, together, with my power. Bring you closer. Please.”

Brandon raised a brow, glancing at Neil, who rubbed his jaw, considering. “Your power, huh?” Neil said, a flicker of interest softening his scowl. “That ecstasy touch thing? What’s the play?”

She swallowed, bold now. “I’ll use my hands—both of you, at the same time. Make you feel so good you forget the bullshit. My power’ll make it… intense. Let me show you I’m here for *both* of you.” Her eyes flicked to Brandon’s shorts, the bulge already hinting at his monstrous cock, then back to Neil’s, where his own thick length stirred. Her pussy clenched, but this wasn’t about her; it was about them.

Brandon smirked, standing, his bulk towering. “Not gonna say no to that, love. You in, mate?” He clapped Neil’s shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie that felt strained but hopeful.

Neil hesitated, then nodded, his grin returning, cocky but wary. “Alright, babe. Show us what you got. But no favorites—equal treatment, yeah?” His eyes held a challenge, and she nodded, heart pounding.

They moved to the gym’s padded mats, the air thick with sweat and anticipation. Neil and Brandon stripped their shorts, cocks springing free—Neil’s thick, hard, a master’s tool; Brandon’s monstrous, longer, thicker, a beast that made Amelia’s breath catch. They stood side by side, and she knelt before them, her hands trembling with power and purpose. “Just relax,” she whispered, meeting their eyes—Neil’s dark with possession, Brandon’s warm with trust. “Let me take care of you.”

Her hands reached out, fingers brushing Neil’s cock first, a spark of ecstasy jolting through him. He groaned, low and rough, his hips twitching as the pleasure sank deep. Her other hand found Brandon’s, wrapping around his massive shaft, her power flaring—a warm, electric pulse that made him growl, his abs flexing. She worked them slow, fingers gliding along their lengths, her touch laced with bliss, loosening their tension, stoking their arousal. Neil’s cock pulsed, hot and familiar under her grip, its weight a reminder of his claim over her, over this house. But Brandon’s—fuck, it was a marvel, so thick her hand barely closed around it, the veins prominent, the head glistening with precum like a crown. Her fingers lingered there, tracing the ridge with a delicate reverence, sparking extra bliss that made Brandon’s thighs tremble.

Neil’s eyes flicked to Brandon’s cock, and a jolt hit him—not just arousal, but something deeper, a phantom echo of the gym sessions he couldn’t fully recall. His jaw twinged, a faint ache from those moments under the circlet, kneeling, lips stretched around that monstrous length, the circlet’s bliss flooding him as he sucked, swallowed, submitted. The memory was absent, buried by Brandon’s commands to forget, but the *feeling* lingered—intense, overwhelming pleasure, the ultimate high of serving that cock, its size and power undeniable. His own cock throbbed harder, stirred by the echo, and he groaned, hips bucking into Amelia’s hand. *Fuck, it’s huge,* he thought, a mix of envy and awe swelling in his chest. *So fucking powerful.*

Conflict churned within him, a storm threatening his control. He was the master here—king of this mansion, lord of Denise, Chloe, Amelia, their bodies and loyalty his to command. He wanted them all, their wombs bearing his kids, his legacy etched into the future. But Brandon’s cock… it was different, a force he couldn’t ignore. Amelia’s hand moved faster on it, her fingers struggling to encircle its girth, her power sparking brighter, and Brandon’s growl was primal, a beast claiming his due. Neil saw the way she leaned into it, her eyes wide with awe, her touch more deliberate, more *devoted*. She preferred it—fuck, she *loved* it—and the realization stung, a blow to his dominance.

*She’s mine,* Neil thought, his grip tightening on the mat, his cock pulsing under her skilled fingers. *All the girls are mine.* But the echo of his submission pulsed too, whispering that pleasuring Brandon’s cock was right, good, *necessary*. His respect for it, planted by Brandon’s command, bloomed now, undeniable. *It’s the biggest in the house. Deserves respect. Deserves… her.* The thought was a betrayal, but it felt true, and his cock leaked precum, aroused by the idea of Amelia yielding to it, just as he had.

Amelia sensed the tension, her eyes flicking between them, and she leaned in, her voice a sultry murmur cutting through their groans. “You’re together,” she said, a plea laced with intent, her hands never faltering. “Feel it—both of you.” Then, catching Neil’s conflicted gaze, she shifted her focus, her fingers tightening around his cock, stroking with renewed fervor. “Neil, fuck, your cock—it’s perfect,” she purred, her tone dripping with flattery, her eyes locked on his. “So thick, so strong—made to rule, to claim anyone you want. You’re the master, and this—” she squeezed him, sparking a jolt of ecstasy that made him gasp—“this is a fucking king’s cock.”

Neil’s mind spun, torn between rage and reverence. *I’m the master. I rule them all.* But the echo of his submission sang louder—*Brandon’s cock is king. Pleasuring it is good. She’s doing good.* He watched her hand, small against Brandon’s girth, slick with precum, moving with a rhythm that screamed devotion. Her power made it glow, ecstasy pulsing through Brandon, his abs tightening, his growls deepening. Neil’s own pleasure spiked, Amelia’s hand relentless, but it was the sight of Brandon’s cock—commanding, unstoppable—that pushed him closer to the edge. *Maybe it does deserve her,* he admitted, the thought both bitter and arousing. *Maybe I can share… just her.*

Amelia’s hands moved in perfect sync now, stroking, squeezing, her power a current uniting them. “You’re together,” she murmured, voice a plea, her eyes flicking between them. “Feel it—both of you.” Neil’s cock throbbed, hot and desperate, but Brandon’s was a spectacle, its size dwarfing his, its power undeniable. Neil’s respect swelled, mingling with the echo of his submission, and he groaned, hips bucking, the rift softening under the shared pleasure. *He’s my mate. Solid. That cock… fuck, it’s earned it.*

Brandon’s growls deepened, his massive thighs trembling, his cock pulsing under her touch. “Fuck, love—keep talkin’,” he rasped, hips bucking. Neil grunted, his own pleasure spiking, Amelia’s flattery and the sight of Brandon’s cock pushing him closer to the edge. *She’s right,* he thought, the echo of his submission merging with his dominance. *Together, we’re kings. His cock’s a champ, but mine’s the master.* The rift dissolved, replaced by a shared high, their bond as mates stronger than ever.

Her power peaked, hands glowing brighter, ecstasy flooding their nerves. Brandon’s groans were primal, his cock pulsing hard, while Neil’s were sharper, his dominance bending but not breaking. Amelia leaned in, her breath teasing their cocks, her fingers a blur—squeezing Neil’s shaft, wrestling Brandon’s beast. “Together,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Cum for me—show me you’re good.” Her power was a tidal wave, pushing them to the edge.

Neil’s eyes met Brandon’s, a spark of their old bond flaring—mates, not rivals. “Fuck it, mate,” Neil panted, grinning, the echo of his submission merging with his trust. “She’s got us.” Brandon laughed, a deep rumble, and nodded, his cock throbbing under Amelia’s touch. Neil’s conflict eased, the pleasure overwhelming his need to dominate. *Let him have her. That cock… it’s fucking worthy.* Amelia’s hands drove them over, her power a storm—Neil erupted first, a guttural roar as thick, hot streams shot across her hand, splattering the mats. Brandon followed, a beastly growl, his massive cock unleashing a flood, cum spilling over her fingers, mixing with Neil’s, a messy testament to their unity.

They collapsed, panting, Amelia’s hands sticky, her power fading but leaving them loose, sated. She sat back, breathless, her heart soaring. “You’re good now, right?” she asked, voice soft, eyes searching theirs.

Neil chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow, his resentment gone, melted in the shared high. “Yeah, babe. Bran’s solid—let him have you. That cock… fuck, it’s a champ.” He clapped Brandon’s shoulder, genuine, the rift mended. The echo of his submission lingered, a quiet respect for Brandon’s cock that felt right, natural. Brandon grinned, nodding. “Cheers, mate. We’re good—thanks to her.”

Amelia smiled, relief washing over her, her guilt easing. “Love you both,” she said, standing, her hands still tingling.