**The Mansion’s Punishment**

I worked in the old Hamsworth mansion as one of many maids, blending into the background like furniture—until *he* noticed me. Lord Ambrose, cold-eyed and cruel, caught me slacking as I dusted the library. I knew the rules: no breaks, no complaints. But my feet ached, and for just one minute, I had leaned against the desk.

“You think my home is a place for laziness?” His voice sent ice down my spine.

Before I could stammer an apology, his hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me off balance. My knees hit the ornate rug, the softness doing nothing to dull the shock of impact. His other hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back until our eyes locked. “You’ll learn your place.”

I tried to pull away, but he was stronger, dragging me toward the massive oak desk. The edge bit into my ribs as he bent me over it, one hand pressing between my shoulder blades to keep me down. My pulse hammered in my throat. “Please, my lord—”

“Shut up.” The slap of his belt buckle unlatching made me flinch. His pants hit the floor, and then I felt it—the thick heat of his cock grinding against my ass through my thin uniform skirt. His fingers dug under the fabric, tearing the flimsy cotton of my panties aside. I whimpered at the sudden exposure, my cunt clenching in fear.

“Look at you,” he sneered, spreading my cheeks with one rough hand. “Wet already. All you maids are the same—begging for it.”

I wasn’t wet. I was *terrified*. But he didn’t care. The broad head of his cock nudged against my pussy, and I choked back a sob as he shoved in with one brutal thrust. No lube, no mercy—just the burn of being stretched too fast, too hard. My nails scraped the polished wood as he buried himself to the hilt, my cunt struggling to take him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, hips snapping forward to drive himself deeper. “Bet the others don’t squeeze me like this.”

Tears streaked my cheeks, but he only fucked me harder, each thrust jolting me against the desk. The sounds were obscene—the slap of skin, the creak of wood under our weight, my choked gasps as his cock ruthlessly pistoned in and out. His fingers dug into my hips, sure to leave bruises, marking me as his plaything.

“You take this cock so well,” he panted, pulling my hair to arch my back. “Maybe I’ll keep you in my room tonight. Let the other maids hear how loudly you scream.”

The threat sent a twisted thrill through me. I hated him. Hated how my body betrayed me, my pussy growing slicker as he pounded into me. His free hand slipped around my front, fingers finding my clit and rubbing in rough circles. A shocked moan ripped from my throat—I didn’t want to cum, not like this, but my body didn’t listen. Pleasure coiled tight in my belly, building with every filthy thrust.

“That’s it,” he growled, teeth grazing my ear. “Cum on my cock like a good little whore.”

The orgasm hit me like a slap, my cunt clamping around him as I shook. He fucked me through it, his pace turning erratic. With a grunt, he slammed deep, his cock pulsing as he filled me with his cum. Hot and thick, it spilled inside me, dripping down my thighs when he finally pulled out.

He stepped back, tucking himself away while I slumped over the desk, breath ragged. “Clean yourself up,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just ruined me. “And next time, don’t make me punish you again.”

I knew it was a lie. He’d do it again. And part of me—the part I hated most—ached for it.