Master's Bathhouse Sluts

Steam rose in thick curls from the wide marble tub, carrying the heavy scent of jasmine oil through the private bathhouse. Victor stood at the edge in his open robe, watching the two women who lived in his household solely to attend him. Valentina moved first, twenty-one, her one-point-seven-meter frame slim through the waist yet lush everywhere else. The thin silk clung to her full, juicy F-cup tits, the heavy curves bouncing with each step as she poured heated water. Her round ass flexed under the fabric when she bent, and she glanced back over her shoulder with a hungry smile.

“Master, the water is almost perfect,” she said, voice low. “But your sluts are already hotter. These big tits have been aching to bounce for your cock all day.”

Beside her, Brigitte, eighteen, reached only one-point-six-five meters, yet her massive H-cup breasts strained even harder against her own robe, the soft weight shifting and jiggling as she stirred the oils. Her slim figure flared into an equally full round ass that she deliberately swayed while she worked. Both women kept their eyes on the thickening shape beneath his robe, shameless and eager.

Brigitte pressed close enough that one enormous tit brushed his arm. “We’re your household whores, Master. Dripping already. Please let your dirty sluts serve you. We live for it.”

Victor’s hand settled on the curve of her ass and squeezed. She pushed back into the grip with a soft moan, no hesitation, only want. Valentina straightened and let her robe gap wider so the dark nipples of her F-cups peeked free. They circled him slowly, teasing without rush, letting their huge tits sway and their round asses brush his thighs while they finished the preparations. Every movement was an invitation. They called him Master in every sentence, begging in low voices to be used, their bodies constantly on display.

“Feel how wet your whore is,” Valentina murmured, guiding his fingers briefly between her thighs so he could feel the slick heat, then drawing away again to keep the tension high. “We’ve been soaking our panties thinking about draining you. These juicy tits, this ass—all yours, Master. Use your sluts however you want.”

Brigitte lifted one heavy breast and offered the thick nipple. “Or save them for later, when we cover them in your cum. We’re shameless, Master. Your exclusive dirty sluts. We want to be fucked, sucked, filled. Begging for it.”

His cock had risen fully hard by the time the last oils swirled into the water. The women exchanged a look, then untied their robes together and let the silk fall. Naked, they stood in the steam, Valentina’s full F-cups hanging heavy and juicy, waist narrow, ass round and high. Brigitte’s H-cups were even larger, soft and massive, nipples already tight, her smaller frame making the contrast of slim waist and plump ass sharper. They stepped together and pressed those slick tits against each other, flesh mashing, nipples rubbing as oil from their hands made the skin gleam.

“Master, look at your dripping-wet household whores,” Valentina whispered, voice filthy and warm. “Our cunts are leaking down our thighs because we live to drain your cock. Every thick inch. We want to be pumped full like the cum-hungry sluts we are. Tell us to worship you.”

Brigitte ground her massive breasts harder against Valentina’s, spit already shining on her lower lip. “Yes, Master. These huge tits are for smothering your balls, for getting covered in spit and cum. We’re your personal whores, cock-hungry and proud of it. Let your sluts drop and beg.”

Their talk grew rawer as they rubbed together. Valentina described how she wanted his cock forced down her throat until spit ran in strings over her F-cups while Brigitte licked her ass and called herself a throat-slut. Brigitte answered that she would gag herself on him until her eyes watered, her H-cups slapping his thighs, both of them nothing but bathhouse whores who existed to be used and degraded. They promised to take him in every hole, to thank him for every load, to stay on their knees until he was empty.

Victor’s cock stood rigid, flushed and heavy. The two women sank to the warm tiles at once, knees spread, massive tits heaving, round asses settled on their heels. Steam wrapped their naked bodies. They looked up with open mouths and bright, willing eyes.

“Please, Master,” Brigitte begged, tongue extended. “Let your sluts worship every inch. Shove that cock into our whore mouths. We need it so badly.”

Valentina cupped her own F-cups and lifted them. “Use your eager sluts, Master. We’re begging on our knees like the filthy cum-whores we are. Fuck our throats. Paint these tits. Make us yours completely.”

He stepped forward. They rose just enough to guide him into the deep tub, climbing in after him so the hot, scented water rose around their waists and made their tits float and gleam. Suds clung to the heavy curves. Kneeling between his spread thighs in the water, they wrapped both hands around his cock. Valentina spat a thick strand across the head; Brigitte added another, working the saliva in with slow, twisting strokes until everything was sloppy and slick. The wet sounds mixed with the lap of water against marble.

“Fuck, Master, your cock is throbbing for your bathhouse sluts,” Valentina groaned, pumping steadily from base to tip. “We’re your filthy cum-whores, stroking this big dick so you feel every inch. Look at our huge tits covered in suds and our whore spit.”

Brigitte leaned in so her massive H-cups rested heavily on his thighs, more spit dripping from her lips onto the shaft. She rubbed it in with her palm, fist gliding in long, messy pulls. “Yes, Master. Your dirty sluts love making you feel this. Our pussies are clenching every time you pulse in our hands. We’re dripping whores who live for your cock. Tell us how close you are. Tell your eager cum-sluts you want to unload.”

They kept the handjob slow and relentless, edging him with twisting grips and constant filth. Spit and pre-cum and bathwater turned their fists into slick heat. They pressed their suds-covered tits against his legs and the base of his cock, rubbing the soft flesh there while they talked about being his personal throat-sluts, about how they would swallow every drop later, about how empty their cunts felt until he used them. Valentina licked the head between strokes, then pulled back to let Brigitte take a turn sucking lightly while both hands still pumped. They never let him tip over, only built the pressure until his thighs tensed and his breath came harsh.

When he was panting, they eased off, kissing the insides of his thighs, then helped him stand. Water streamed down his body. They reached for the soft towels but used their tongues first, licking droplets from his chest, his stomach, the length of his still-hard cock. Brigitte lapped slowly along the underside while Valentina towel-dried his balls with gentle presses of the cloth, both of them murmuring.

“Master, your sluts are drying you with our tongues,” Brigitte said between licks. “Tasting you. We’re such dirty whores for this cock.”

Valentina kissed the head once, then drew back. “Not finished yet, Master. Your whores have more. Come with us.”

They led him, naked and aching, through the side door into the adjoining bedroom where a second shower already ran hot behind glass. Steam filled the enclosure. They stepped under the spray together and dropped to their knees on the wet tile, water pouring over their shoulders and huge tits.

Valentina took him first. She opened wide, slid the thick head past her lips, then pushed deeper until her throat opened around him. She gagged wetly, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth and running in strings down her chin onto her F-cups. She bobbed, taking him to the root, nose pressed to his skin, throat convulsing around every inch while the shower soaked them both. When she pulled off, a thick web of slobber connected her lips to his cock.

“Gluck—Master’s personal cock-sucking whore,” she gasped, voice wrecked and eager. “I’m your throat-slut. Fuck my whore mouth. Use me like the filthy cum-dump I am. Ram it down until I can’t breathe, Master. Your slut loves it.”

Brigitte surged forward and swallowed him next. Her smaller frame made the stretch obscene as she forced the cock past her lips and into her throat, gagging loudly, eyes watering, yet she pushed deeper, slobber flying and mixing with the shower water. Her massive H-cups swayed and slapped with each desperate bob. She pulled back just far enough to speak, chin dripping.

“Yes, Master, choke your little slut. I’m your eager throat-whore. Fuck my face like the dirty cock-sucking whore I am. We’re your bathhouse sluts and we love being degraded. Deeper. Make your eighteen-year-old whore gag on every inch.”

They traded him back and forth in long, sloppy turns. Each time one deepthroated, the other licked his balls or stroked the slick shaft, spit pouring constantly. The sounds were wet and obscene—gags, slurps, the slap of tits, their voices never stopping.

“Look at us, Master,” Valentina moaned around a mouthful before pulling off to drool more onto her tits. “Two filthy whores fighting over your cock. Your personal sluts degrading ourselves because we crave it. Call us your cum-whores. Your throat-sluts. We are. We love swallowing you like this.”

Brigitte took him to the hilt again, throat fluttering, then came up gasping. “Deeper, Master. Use your whores. I’m your devoted cock-sleeve. Paint us. We’re Master’s forever sluts and we want every drop.”

Victor gripped Brigitte’s wet hair and thrust hard into her eager throat. He held her there as he came, thick pulses pumping straight down her gulping throat. She swallowed what she could; the rest leaked from her stretched lips and ran down her chin. He pulled free and the remaining ropes striped across Valentina’s massive tits, painting the full F-cups in heavy white streaks that slid through the water and spit already coating her skin. Both women moaned, open-mouthed and satisfied, licking stray drops from each other’s skin and from his softening cock.

They rose slowly, retrieved fresh towels, and dried his body with careful, loving strokes, their own chins and tits still dripping with spit and cum. Valentina pressed a soft kiss to his chest.

“Master, your sluts are so full and happy,” she whispered. “We love being your bathhouse whores.”

They walked him to the wide bed and crawled up beside him, naked and warm, still whispering against his skin.

“We’re your forever bathhouse sluts, Master,” Brigitte murmured, nuzzling his thigh, cum shining on her lips. “Ready to serve your cock again whenever you desire. Just say the word and your whores drop to their knees.”

Valentina settled against his side, her painted tits pressed to him, mind already turning. Tomorrow she would wake him before dawn with both their mouths working his cock in slow, sloppy tandem, then bend them both over the bath edge so he could fuck his dripping sluts from behind while they begged him to fill their whore cunts and call them his personal cum-dumpsters all over again. She smiled into his shoulder, already planning exactly how much filthier the next time would be.