Chapter 3: The Maid’s Confession

The Astraeus mansion was a fortress of luxury, but even fortresses had their secrets. Leon, having tasted the intoxicating thrill of seduction with his sister Rose, knew he needed more. He needed to test the limits of his power, to see just how far he could push the boundaries of this matriarchal world.

That evening, as he was finishing a light dinner, he saw her.

The maid.

She wasn't just any maid. She was older, mid-thirties, with a body that spoke of experience and a gaze that held a hidden fire. He had seen her around the estate, always efficient, always respectful, but the thoughts that flickered through her mind were anything but.

(He's so young… So beautiful… I shouldn't… But I want…)

Her name was Anya. And her thoughts were a feast.

He beckoned her over. Her movements were graceful, yet there was a tremor in her hands as she approached.

"Yes, Young Master?" Her voice was smooth, laced with a subtle tremor.

He leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You've been with the family a long time, Anya?"

"Yes, Young Master. Since before you were born."

"You've seen a lot, then." He smiled, and the woman's eyes widened slightly.

Her thoughts were a torrent now, a mix of fear and excitement.

(He knows… He can see… What is he going to do?)

"I've seen a lot," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

He stood, walking towards her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"And what do you think of what you've seen?"

She swallowed, her Adam's apple bobbing. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her uniform as he got closer.

(He's so close… I can smell his scent… The power…)

"I… I try not to think about it, Young Master."

He reached out, tracing a finger along her cheek. Her skin was warm. Soft.

Her thoughts exploded.

(Don't touch me… Please, don't stop…)

"But you do think about it, don't you, Anya?"

Her eyes closed. A single tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek.

"Yes, Young Master."

"What do you think of me, Anya?" he asked softly, his voice a dangerous whisper.

Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze locked on his.

"I… I think you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, Young Master."

(He knows… He knows what I want…)

He smiled again, a predatory glint in his eyes.

"And what do you want, Anya?"

She didn't hesitate. The dam had broken.

"I want you, Young Master."

"You're a bold woman," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "Especially for a maid."

Her eyes blazed with a sudden, desperate fire.

"I don't care, Young Master! I've wanted you since the moment I saw you! Please…"

He took her hand, his grip firm.

"Come with me."

He led her out of the dining room, towards his private chambers. The halls seemed to stretch on forever, the silence broken only by their footsteps and the frantic beating of Anya's heart.

Inside his room, he closed the door and turned to face her.

"You know what will happen now, don't you?"

She nodded, her face flushed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her mind was an open book of desire, of desperate, forbidden lust.

(Please… Take me…)

He didn't waste any time.

He grabbed her, pulling her into a kiss that was both demanding and possessive. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her.

She responded with equal fervor, her hands clawing at his back, her body pressing against his.

He broke the kiss, looking down at her, his eyes burning with a predatory light.

"Strip."

Her hands trembled as she fumbled with her uniform, tearing at the buttons, the fabric falling away to reveal a body that was both mature and incredibly alluring. The curves of her breasts, the swell of her hips, the promise of untold pleasures.

He didn't let her finish. He ripped the rest of the clothes from her, his eyes devouring her naked form.

He pushed her onto the bed, following her down, his mouth finding her neck, nipping, and sucking. She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He moved down her body, his tongue tracing a path of fire across her skin. He savored every inch of her. He knew what she wanted. He knew what she craved.

He reached the apex of her thighs, parting them, burying his face between them.

Anya arched her back, her body writhing, her nails digging into the sheets as he began to pleasure her.

Her ahegao was clear to see, the look of intense pleasure on her face.

He knew what to do, and how to do it.

She came quickly, her body convulsing, her screams echoing in the room.

He lifted himself up, looking down at her.

"You want more, don't you?"

Her eyes were glazed, her body still trembling, but she nodded, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Yes… Please…"

He entered her roughly, his thrusts deep and demanding. She cried out, but it was a cry of pleasure, of release.

He fucked her hard. He fucked her long. He gave her everything she craved and more.

He made her scream. He made her beg. He made her his.

And as he came inside her, filling her completely, he knew that this was just the beginning.

The world would be his.

And he would take it all.

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