The importance of Nutrition

Sleeps finds you quickly on your new bed, but that doesn't give you nice dreams. You don't remember anything specific on your way back to the waking world: no evil ghost chasing you, no distorted and wicked reality, just the weird feeling in your stomach that something wasn't right. The uneasy weakness that comes so naturally after a troubled sleep.

You make yourself presentable and exit your room, ready for just a day of hard work to earn your salary, a normal day hopefully, but normality doesn't seem to be that fond of you. You are in the kitchen, with the rest of the maid making a line for their breastfast in silence. No one wants to speak with no one and you are grateful for it. That's when Rufus, the Chief-maid founds you and takes you away from the others with his rough hand. "I'm afraid you won't be eating any of that, like the others... The lady has ordered a different diet for you."

"The lad... which lady?" You say.

His eyes shine with distaste to the sound of your voice. "I know my place well enough to not ask such things... Do you know your place, lowborn scum?"

"Y... Ye..."

"I though so." says Mr. Rufus. "Let me show you."

He brings you to the one tables, where there is a tray already with your breakfast on it: you see the normal maid's meal, but there is also a few slices of pineaple, a glass of orange juice and a different type of cereal. The milk has also a slightly different colour, less white and more creamy, it also appears to be denser.

Rufus' voice has a mocking sound now. "Where I grew up, we called this a 'horse meal'" He says.

"Horse meal?" You ask.

"Horses, yes. My parents' mistress bred horses. It's a very refined and complex process, only fit for the more respected families: selecting a proper mare, finding suitable stallions for her... you always have to take good care of a stallion, make sure he eats the proper food, so that he can ...'run' properly. A good horse needs to be well fed in order to have a good production."

You feel confused by his words: why would they want you to run anywhere? That's no proper work for a maid, and you are not that physically fit for that. Also, what are you meant to produce? It doesn't make sense. The chiefmaid is clearly messing with you with his mean words. The longer you speak to him the worst it will get, so you bow your head in silence and that makes him go.

As you are left alone with the breakfast, you spot a piece of paper, folded under your glass of juice. You unwrap it and read it's brief content.

I hope you like it. Eat it all ♥♥♥

Something about it's cheerfulness makes you feel uneasy.

An hour later you are before the dinning room. It is your duty today to open the door for the mistresses as they enter the room for their own breakfast. Which one of them could have written that weird letter and ordered that undeserved breakfast? You cannot say.

The three ladies appear walking in a straight line. The matriarch Cassandra comes first and she barely looks in your general direction as you open the door and bow for her. She couldn't have been the one to order that breakfast. She doesn't give a fuck about you... or does she? Do she know already who you really are? Does she still care for you in a weird way? She is so inscrutable... you cannot say.

Next in line comes the beautiful lady Lily. The nicest of them. She smiles to you like only an angel could smile, with true kindness and care in her eyes. She, nonetheless keeps herself from making a more evident show of affection, knowing that her sister walks behind her. She walks by your side and enters the dinning room.

Then comes Amelia, the demon to contrast Lily's angelic nature, the darkness to her light. She is smiling too, but that smile brings no confort to your heart. Just when she is about to enter, when she is walking just by your side, she stops and stays there for a few seconds, almost as if she knew that for a brief moment none of the other ladies would be looking back to you. Her movements are too quick and wicked: her hand finds your bulge and grabs it with a complete lack of care. She doesn't want to please your dick, just to own it as she own everything else, almost making you scream a pathetic moan, that you somehow are able to contain to her disappointment. Her lips come closer to you, but not to kiss you. Her head looks for your neck and there she sniffs you, smelling you, once again. She produces her own low moan, as an addict would react to another hit of her favourite ****: that's you, that's your smell. "Ñam ñam." She says, her fingers caressing your balls through your maid robes, still not gentle enough to be pleasant. You look into her eyes and see only lust, a sex crazed siren.

She then releases you and continues to walk into the room as if nothing had happened.