
They serve more than breakfast in this house.
The mansion still doesn't feel real. But the girls do. Especially Cassia, who kneels beside my chair like she's tasting worship. The kitchen smells like toast and desire. Everything they do is soft, practiced, and meant to please.
They say I'm the master. That obedience is baked in. I don't know what I'm becoming here, only that they want it. Every look. Every bite. Every moan.
I said yes once. Now I can't stop.
The kitchen is open. Breakfast is serveed.
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