RedCherry

Eris: From Kitchen to Bedroom—One Step Away. (56 images)

Added 2025-02-19 22:00:06 +0000 UTC

I, Eris, always knew that my appearance was both a curse and a blessing. Slim, short, with delicate features and blonde hair, I could easily pass for a girl. In the tavern where I worked as a kitchen maid, no one ever suspected that beneath the skirt lay something more than just a feminine figure. Everyone saw only a pretty servant girl who served ale and cleared tables. But only one person knew the truth—the owner of the tavern, Rupert.

Rupert was fat, bald, and unkempt. His smell, a mix of sweat and old wine, disgusted me. But something about that disgust made my body react differently. When the tavern emptied and the last patrons left, Rupert would wink at me, and we would go upstairs. The room upstairs was our secret, our dirty sanctuary.

He would lock the door, close the shutters, and the room would become stifling. His hands, rough and greasy, would begin to explore my body, and I, despite finding him repulsive, felt warmth spreading through my thighs. His lips, smelling of cheap wine, pressed against mine, and I moaned like a girl because I knew—he liked that. He loved it when I moaned, when I smelled like a woman, when I submitted.

Rupert preferred to take me from behind, his thick fingers digging into my hips as I knelt, feeling his penis fill me. But sometimes, during breaks, we tried other positions. My favorite was the missionary position. He would lie on top of me, his stomach pressing against mine, and I would wrap my arms around his neck, feeling his breath grow heavier. His eyes, small and greedy, stared at me, and I, closing mine, imagined it wasn’t him but someone else. But that only heightened my arousal.

Afterward, when he could no longer hold back, I would kneel before him. His penis, large and thick, was slick with sweat. I took him into my mouth, feeling him pulse. Rupert groaned, his hands gripping my hair, pushing himself deeper. Sometimes he came in my mouth, and I felt his semen filling me. Other times, he pulled out at the last moment, and the hot liquid splashed across my face. I felt it dripping down my cheeks, and it was both disgusting and arousing.

Afterward, I would tidy myself up to go back downstairs. But sometimes, in my haste, I forgot to wash my face, and the tavern patrons would look at me in surprise, wondering why the "girl" had such strange stains on her face. I would just smile and keep working, knowing my secret was safe.