Warning: Dark and BDSM theme story which involves highly adult content.
A naive maid who worked for two domineering billionaire brothers was attempting to hide from them because she had heard that if their lustful eyes fell on any woman, they made...
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Edward's P.O.V.
I stand in the shower and the warm water cascades down my body. As my submissive lavishes me with an amazing blowjob, my moans of pleasure fill the air. I don't recall her name, since it doesn't matter, because she is nothing more than a slave to me, whose job it is to obey me no matter what.
She is on her knees in front of me, her wrists bound with ankles behind her back. I take pleasure in contorting her body into uncomfortable positions.
I push her away from me once she has satisfied me. I wash myself, shut off the shower, and then I stoop to free her limbs.
She rises to her feet and rushes to the closet to retrieve my bathrobe. She comes up behind me and slips the bathrobe on me.
I like how she follows every rule I make, but I've had enough of her now as she's been my slave for two weeks. I can't tolerate seeing the same girl's face for over a week, thus I often change my submissive.
They're my maids, my slaves, my property, and I have the authority to do whatever I want with them. I don't compel them; they surrender to me with pleasure. They yearn to be ruled by me or my brother, Sid.
"I'm tired of seeing your face every day, so you're free to go." As she ties the knot of my robe, I shove her aside.
"I thoroughly enjoyed serving as your submissive, Master." She bows before me, bringing a satisfactory smile to my face.
"I'm going to get ready. When I return to my room, I expect you to have vanished. Got it?" My fingers run through my long, wet hair as I instruct her, and then I head to my dressing room.
I slip into a black Armani suit and pull open the drawer. I don a watch, then use the dryer to dry my tresses before fastening them with a rubber band.
"Long hair suits me." I stroke my beard, basking in my glory.
After getting ready, I return to my room. A maid has already entered the room with a glass of juice for me. She keeps her eyes down on the floor because nobody can make eye contact with the Wilson brothers in this mansion without their consent.
I lift the glass and sip some juice, then place it back.
There is a knock on the door.
"Come in." As I permit, the door opens and my assistant, Paul, enters my room, having his tab in his hand to inform me of my schedule.
"Paul, cancel all the meetings for today because I'm busy." I command, waggling my finger at him.
Today I'm busy because I have to find a new slave for myself.
I ask him to leave through my eyes as he opens his mouth to speak; he nods and walks away without uttering a word.
