Free The Maid For Pleasure Bundle 2 by Nadia Nightside

partitioned off by red velvet ropes. They all had little signs in front of them.
    Svetlana continued to speak as they approached. “So, as far as 'legality' goes,” she made little air quotes, “you needn’t worry about prosecution, I should think. As a method of securing our position in the marketplace, we delivered maids—either factory-grown or outsourced—straight to the leaders of the local and state law enforcement community here. We are working, successfully, on more wide-ranging defenses in the federal government. If men complain, a gorgeous woman shuts them up. And if a woman complains...”
    Svetlana shrugged again, somewhat sinister.
    Hayley, unable to help herself, started to get aroused. Svetlana was so cold, so easily clinical about enslaving and bimbofying regular women. It was rather delicious to think about, really.
    Mother had always told her that morals were for the lower classes, trying to justify why they ought to be given more when they were so unwilling to work harder. In the upper classes, morality was more like decoration for a sun room. Not strictly necessary, but rather nice when it worked out.
    They finally approached the line of potential bimbos. All of them gorgeous, with long sexy hair, enormous breasts, and happy smiles plastered on their faces. More than twenty, in all, each with a card reading a different product name in front of them.
    Directly in front of them was the “Basic Bimbo.” Tall, naturally standing high on her tippy-toes, ready for high heel shoes. Her blond hair was thick, draping down her back like some golden blanket. Her tits were enormous, her grin vapid and permanent.
    “Mommy?” the bimbo asked, quizzically. “Daddy? Baby wanna suck.” Her thighs pushed together, hot lust juices leaking suddenly from her cunt. The smell flooded their nostrils—sweet, like bubblegum. Hayley felt her arousal levels increase just from inhaling the scent.
    “Oh my,” said Hayley. “I thought she was a statue. A replica, or something.”
    “No, these floor models are all quite real,” said Svetlana. “If you see one you like, we can package her together for you today, complete with wardrobe.”
    Hayley had to admit that she didn’t know all the maids would be quite so...proportioned. Their figures such obviously perfect hourglasses. Svetlana had similar proportions, as a matter of fact, though her legs were longer, and her tits just slightly smaller in her tight business suit.
    “You mentioned something about outsourcing,” said Simon. “What does that mean?”
    Svetlana nodded sharply. “Factory grown girls as the sort you see here. Completely wiped clean, and then made docile, obedient, and gorgeous by careful supervision. But, many of our girls are what we call ‘Milk Maids.’”
    “Milk Maids?”
    “Yes. Their bodies libido systems operate at such high capacity, after being delivered to their appropriate location, that they become practical mini-factories of 44DD. That’s the drug we use to create the effects you see here.” She slapped the metal tip of a pointer against the Basic Bimbo’s tits, and then abdomen. “ This model doesn’t feature Milk Maid functionality, thus the low cost. But for all those with the “Milk Maid” content, they are able to deliver highly potent forms of 44DD through their lactation. Which, of course, is daily. As you can see.”
    Hayley followed Svetlana’s pointing. The next maid down was a practical copy of the Basic Bimbo, but her tits were leaking thick, heavy milk. She stood in a puddle of it, her toes just barely visible in the tiny transparent plastic circle she stood in. At the bottom of the circle was a drain. Hayley assumed the milk went somewhere else—perhaps to be bottled and then fed to other girls they took in here.
    “Shall we continue?” asked Svetlana. “There are several more models.”
    “I, uh...need just a moment,” said Simon, sliding next to a stanchion holding up the velvet ropes in front of the