The Kitchen

As he wakes up, only one thing's on his mind, her.

He gets dressed by his servants, hurries downstairs and shouts: "Who's in charge of my breakfast ?!" As everybody shivers at his loud and unusual tone, someone answers: "Well, it's me sir..." He stares at the servant, frowns and points at his favorite maid. "Everybody clean the mansion. I want HER to make my breakfast, understood ?" They all gulp and nod, before hurrying to their tasks.

He turns to her and gives her the sign to walk to the kitchen and start cooking. She looks at him straight in the eyes and hops to do her job, both hands clenched to her chest.

He can feel his instinct growling as he follows her a few steps behind. As she starts her duty, she can feel him staring at her. He's in the corner of the room, creeping, his hand fiddling with his tie. "Is there something I can do for you... ?" She asks, hesitant. She hears his shiny shoes taping on the marble floor as he comes closer, she freezes. "Keep on working, you're always doing it so well." As he speaks, his hands clench on her hips and she gasps. Her legs start trembling, this all seems so new to her. He holds her tight, as to calm her down, but at the same time she feels his bulging crotch through his clothes and her dress. Excitement, confusion, lust and fear mix. But as she tries to keep working on her task, she spills milk all over the floor.