Isaac stirred in the dim morning light filtering through the curtains.
The warmth between his legs pulled him from sleep. It was a gentle pull that felt both familiar and electric.
He glanced sideways.
Celia lay beside him, her chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths, still lost in dreams.
A soft, rhythmic sensation tugged at him again.
He lifted his upper body just enough to peek under the blanket, heart quickening at the sight.
There she was.
Emily, her small hands wrapped around his hardness, her tongue tracing slow circles along its length.
Her eyes, wide, innocent, yet lustful, stayed locked on it, as if it held some secret she couldn’t look away from.
This was normal. It wasn’t the first time he had woken up to being "assaulted" by a cute wife.
Besides, given how much he teased her yesterday and left her hanging, this was bound to happen.
But still, he was shocked.
She was... wearing maid clothes!
The black dress hugged her curves, and the white apron was crisp and out of place in their rumpled bed.
Her cheeks flushed deeper as she noticed him watching.
"M-Master," she whispered, her voice trembling just a little. "This servant saw that you were... um, tense this morning. So I thought... I wanted to help ease your stress, if that’s okay."
The word "Master" hung in the air like a spark.
Isaac felt a rush of heat spread through him, mixing with the soothing strokes of her hands.
’So this is how she wants to play.’
Something stirred inside him, a darker edge he hadn’t fully explored before.
He reached down and cupped her chin gently, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.
Her skin felt soft, and cold under his fingers.
"M-Master?" Emily’s voice came out breathy, her blush spreading to her neck.
She bit her lip, eyes darting away for a second before returning to his.
He leaned in closer, his thumb brushing her lower lip.
"Who are you, exactly?" His tone came out firmer than he planned, but it fit the moment, drawing her in.
"Y-Your maid, Master." She swallowed, her hands pausing on him, but not letting go.
His pulse quickened at the role she slipped into so easily.
"And how does a maid like you get to touch her master without asking first?"
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her up and over his lap in one smooth motion.
She landed sideways across his thighs.
The skirt of her uniform rode up slightly, revealing the tops of her white stockings, smooth against her skin.
Isaac’s hand slid under the fabric, tracing the edge of her garter belt.
He felt the damp heat there already, her body responding before he even touched her fully.
It made his own arousal throb harder.
"You’ve been naughty. And a maid who breaks rules needs to learn her place."
Emily let out a small gasp.
Her body tensed under his touch, but she didn’t pull away.
Instead, she shifted closer, as if craving the words.
Without warning, he pressed two fingers into her warmth.
She was slick and ready. Her body was welcoming him with a soft clench that sent a jolt through his arm.
"Ah..."
Emily’s moan filled the quiet room, her hips rocking instinctively against his hand.
He moved slowly at first, feeling every flutter inside her, building the rhythm until her breaths came in short, needy bursts.
He watched her face, the way her eyes half-closed, lips parting.
But just as her body started to tremble on the edge, he pulled his fingers free.
She whimpered, her eyes snapping open to meet his. "M-Master? Why... why did you stop?"
Isaac kept his expression stern, though inside, a thrill twisted through him at her pleading look. "First, you touch your master without permission. Now, you can’t even control yourself. What kind of maid are you?"
Her chest heaved, body still humming with unspent need.
He could see it in the way she pressed her thighs together, seeking friction.
This side of her—the one that bloomed under his command—pulled at something deep, almost otherworldly, like a whisper from shadows he couldn’t quite name.
"W-What should I do to make it right, Master?" Emily’s voice was soft, laced with that sweet embarrassment that made her even more alluring.
She twisted her hips a fraction, a subtle invitation that belied her meek words.
"You need to start by apologizing to your master," he said coldly.
"O-Okay." She nodded quickly, her hair falling across her face. "I’m sorry, Mas—"
His hand came down on her ass with a firm smack, cutting her off.
The sound echoed softly, and she yelped, more surprise than pain.
"Why’d you stop?" Isaac asked, his tone even, hand lingering on the cold skin. "Apologize like you mean it, or do I have to show you again?"
"I’m sor—"
Another smack, sharper this time.
Emily’s body jerked, but she arched into it, her breath hitching.
"Apologize!"
He delivered the word with another strike, watching the color bloom on her pale skin.
"I’m sorry, M—"
Smack.
She gasped, fingers clutching the sheets.
"I’m sorr—"
Smack.
Her moans mixed with the impacts now, turning breathy and low.
He didn’t let her finish.
Each time, his hand met her flesh, the rhythm steady, building a heat that mirrored the one coiling in his own body.
Through it all, Emily’s breathing grew ragged.
Her body relaxed into the sensation rather than fighting it.
Finally, he paused, lifting the skirt higher.
Red marks dotted her skin, stark against the white, drawing his eye like embers in snow.
It stirred that same dark urge.
"I... am... sorry... Master," she murmured, her voice threaded with pain and something sweeter, deeper.
She trembled under his gaze, but her eyes held his, shining with trust.
"Good girl." Isaac nodded, satisfaction warming his chest.
He traced one of the marks lightly with his fingertips, feeling her shiver.
"Now, your master has his morning to start. But first, you thank him for the teaching you how to apologize."
Emily lifted her head slowly, her face flushed.
She searched his face, uncertainty flickering there.
He narrowed his eyes, playing the part.
"What? You need me to teach you gratitude too?"
"No, Master," she replied fast, shaking her head. Her voice steadied, though her cheeks burned. "I know how. Just... tell me it’s okay."
"Then show me."
His words came out gruff, but he softened them with a small nod, urging her on.
She moved with care, easing off his lap.
Her legs shook slightly as she positioned herself on the bed.
Face down, hips raised, creating a graceful curve from her waist to her thighs.
The maid dress bunched up around her middle, exposing the flushed skin beneath.
With tentative fingers, she reached back and parted herself for him.
Her warmth glistened in the low light.
She turned her head, looking over her shoulder, eyes wide and vulnerable.
"Master, please... let this lowly maid thank you properly for your earlier lesson."
The sight hit him like a wave.
He shifted forward on his knees.
His hands gripped her hips, steadying her as he aligned himself.
With a slow push, he entered her, feeling her envelop him in tight, welcoming heat.
Emily moaned, long and low.
Her fingers dug into the mattress.
He tangled one hand in her hair, pulling her head back gently to arch her further.
"Yes... like that," he groaned, starting to move.
Each thrust, deep and slow, built on the last. Their bodies found a rhythm that echoed through the bed.
She pushed back against him, meeting every motion.
"Master... it feels... so good."
Her simple and honest words tumbled out between gasps, pulling him deeper into the moment.
He leaned over her.
His free hand slid up her side to cup her breast through the fabric.
The lace of her uniform scratched lightly against his palm, adding to the sensations flooding him.
Her warmth clenching around him, the soft give of her skin, the faint scent of her that always lingered like wildflowers after rain.
He thrust harder.
Emily’s moans grew louder, filling the space between them.
"Don’t stop... please, Master."
She glanced back again, her eyes glassy with building release.
The slap of skin on skin quickened.
Isaac felt the tension coil low in his belly. His grip tightened on her hip.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto her back.
"I’m close," he warned, voice rough.
"Me too... Master, I’m—"
Her words broke into a cry as her body seized around him, waves of tightness pulling him under.
With one final, deep push, Isaac let go.
Warmth spilled into her, pulsing in time with her shudders.
He held her there, buried deep, as the world narrowed to the shared tremor between them.
They stayed like that for a breath, chests heaving.
Slowly, he eased out, watching as she collapsed forward onto the pillows, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
Isaac brushed her hair back, his touch turning tender now.
"You did well."
She turned her face toward him, smiling faintly through the flush.
"I hope you liked my thanks... master." Her voice was quiet, content, as she nestled into the sheets.
Celia stirred then, her eyes fluttering open. She propped herself on an elbow, watching them with a knowing glint.
"Sounds like I missed the best part."
Isaac chuckled, settling back against the headboard.
The morning light strengthened, casting golden edges on everything.
Emily crawled up beside him, careful of her tender skin.
She rested her head on his shoulder, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.
"Did I... do it right? As your maid?"
He kissed the top of her head. "Better than right. But next time, maybe wake me first."
She blushed, then nodded. "I will. Promise."
Celia reached over.
Isaac had seen the little devil enough to know that her switch had been flipped and, sure enough, she sat on top of him.
"Meow~"
She raised her hand and did a motion of a cat.
The motion made Isaac wonder if monsters similar to cats were in this world. Isaac had seen no animal for the as long as he lived here. Maybe Celia had seen cats in Hell?
"Master, meow~" she purred seductively, looking him in the eye with a lustful gaze and a smile. "Please teach me how to thank you properly too, master~"
Isaac had to agree.
Her method worked.
He was instantly hard again.