1. Daddy stolen panties

The door to Mr James’s home office was ajar, just enough for Lila to slip in quietly with the fresh towels.

She froze on the threshold as Mr James sat behind the massive oak desk, trousers open, thick cock in his fist, stroking himself with slow, steady pumps.

Pre-cum already glistened on the swollen head, sliding down the shaft with every upward pull.

His breathing was ragged, eyes half-closed, staring at something on his laptop screen (a paused video, the frame showing a woman’s arched back and parted thighs).

Lila’s heart slammed against her ribs. She knew she should back out, pretend she’d seen nothing... but her feet wouldn’t move.

He groaned low, hips lifting slightly off the chair. “Fuck, just like that…”

His thumb circled the slick tip, spreading the leaking fluid until the entire length shone wet and obscene.

The muscles in his forearm flexed with each stroke, veins standing out. He was close. She could see it in the way his balls drew tight, the way his abs tensed under his open shirt.

Lila’s thighs clenched involuntarily. Heat bloomed low in her belly, shameful and sudden. Then his eyes flicked up. He saw her, but didn’t stop.

Instead, his gaze locked on hers, dark and burning, hand slowing but never releasing his cock. A fresh bead of pre-cum welled and dripped over his knuckles.

“Close the door, Lila,” Mr James said, his voice rough like sandpaper, almost a deep animal growl that sent shivers racing down her spine.

“Unless you want the whole house to hear what happens next.”

She swallowed hard, her hand reaching back trembling, and pushed the door shut with a soft, final click that echoed in the tense air.

Lila, the 19-year-old virgin housemaid with her smooth caramel skin and wide innocent eyes, stood there frozen in shock.

She had been downstairs in the kitchen, stirring the pot of stew for dinner, when she heard the strange groans coming from upstairs (low, guttural sounds).

Thinking maybe Mr. James was hurt or needed help, she had tiptoed up the stairs, her apron still tied around her slim waist,

But now, seeing him like this (trousers open, his thick, veined cock standing hard and glistening with pre-cum in his tight fist), she realized it wasn't pain, but something sinful, that made those noises.

Immediately Mr. James saw her, his dark eyes snapping open wide. He barked, "How many times have I told you, don't ever enter my room without knocking the door!" His hand paused on his shaft, but he didn't cover up. The slick head throbbed visibly, a drop of clear fluid beading at the tip and slowly dripping down.

Lila's face burned hot, her virgin pussy clenching involuntarily at the sight of his massive length (something she had never seen before, let alone so close and raw).

"I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, her voice small and pleading, eyes darting to the floor but sneaking glances back at his exposed hardness, the way it twitched like it had a mind of its own.

But Mr. James didn't care about her plea. His bloodthirsty, sinful eyes raked over her young body like a predator sizing up prey, lingering on her perky breasts straining against her blouse and the curve of her hips.

"Now you will experience what you are looking for," he said, his voice low and menacing. He stood up slowly, his cock bobbing heavy and erect, pointing straight at her like an accusation.

Lila, so innocent and pure, didn't really understand what he meant. Her mind raced with confusion, her nipples hardening under her bra from the strange heat building between her legs.

She tried to quietly leave the room after seeing Mr. James like that, her hand fumbling for the doorknob behind her, but her legs felt weak, her panties starting to feel damp.

Mr. James stepped closer, blocking her path, his sinful grin widening as he stroked his cock once more right in front of her, the wet sound filling the room.

"He who sees my cock must feel the weight and heaviness on her pussy," he growled. His free hand grabbed her wrist firmly, pulling her closer until she could feel the heat radiating from his throbbing member.

Then Lila realized she had stepped into dangerous territory… her innocent world shattering as his other hand slid up her thigh, brushing the edge of her skirt, making her gasp at the first touch that promised so much sinful pleasure she wasn't ready for, but her body craved anyway.

Mr. James’s fingers paused at the hem of her skirt, rough calluses grazing the soft skin of her inner thigh.

The touch was light (almost gentle), but it burned like fire against her untouched flesh.

Lila’s breath came in shallow, shaky bursts.

She should pull away, she should scream.

She should do anything except stand here trembling while her boss (her employer) held her wrist like a leash and his other hand inched higher.

But her body betrayed her. Her nipples ached against the stiff cotton of her bra, hard and sensitive.

Between her legs, the damp cotton of her panties clung tighter, the fabric now slick with her own arousal.

She felt it (hot, shameful wetness seeping from her virgin slit, soaking through until it cooled against her skin).

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, lips so near they grazed the sensitive shell.

“You’re shaking, little Lila,” he murmured, voice low and thick with dark honey. “Not from fear… no. You’re shaking because this sweet little body knows exactly what it wants.”

His free hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head so her throat was exposed.

He dragged his open mouth along the side of her neck (slow, wet, deliberate), teeth scraping just enough to make her gasp, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin.

“You smell like sin,” he growled against her pulse. “Like warm honey and fresh rain… and like you’ve been dripping for me all day while you scrubbed my floors.”

Lila whimpered, hips shifting forward without permission, pressing her soaked mound against the hard ridge of his thigh.

He chuckled (dark, pleased), then bit gently where her neck met her shoulder, sucking the skin until a small red mark bloomed.

“Look at you,” he whispered, lips brushing the fresh bruise. “Already humping my leg like a needy little kitten. Bet that virgin cunt is throbbing so hard it hurts, isn’t it?”

His hand finally slipped beneath her skirt, cupping her ass cheek possessively, squeezing the soft flesh while his fingers dipped between her thighs from behind.

He traced the soaked seam of her panties, pressing the fabric into her slit so it outlined every swollen fold.

“Goddamn,” he groaned against her throat. “You’re drenched. This tiny pussy is weeping for cock and you don’t even know what you’re begging for yet.”

He pulled back just enough to look into her wide, glassy eyes.

Then he kissed her (not soft, not gentle).

His mouth claimed hers, tongue pushing past her lips, deep and filthy, tasting her, owning her.

He sucked on her tongue like he wanted to drink her down, teeth nipping her bottom lip until she moaned into his mouth.

When he broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connected their lips for a heartbeat before snapping.

“On your knees,” he ordered, voice hoarse. “I want that pretty mouth on me. Want to see those innocent lips stretched around my cock, want to feel your tongue lick every drop of pre-cum you made leak out.”

Lila’s legs trembled as she sank slowly to her knees, skirt pooling around her thighs, face level with his straining erection.

His cock stood proud, thick and veined, the head flushed dark and glossy, a steady drip of pre-cum hanging from the slit.

He fisted the base and angled it toward her mouth.

“Open,” he growled softly. “Show me how badly you want to taste your boss.”

Lila parted her lips, tongue peeking out shyly…

Then a sharp, loud honk blared from downstairs.

Headlights flashed across the windows.

Tires crunched on gravel.

Mrs Isabelle (Mr. James’s wife) had just pulled into the driveway.

Mr. James froze mid-motion, every muscle locking.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath.

He stepped back fast, shoving his cock back into his trousers with rough, frustrated movements, zipper rasping angrily.

“Up. Now,” he snapped, voice low and urgent. “Go downstairs. Act normal. If she sees you flushed and wet like this, we’re done.”

Lila scrambled to her feet, legs unsteady, skirt falling crookedly over her dripping thighs.

Her lips still tingled from his kiss, the taste of him faint on her tongue from that one almost-moment.

She hadn’t even gotten to taste him properly.

Mr. James grabbed her arm, steering her toward the door.

“Move. And Lila…”

He leaned in one last time, voice dropping to a dark whisper against her ear.

“Tomorrow morning… black lace panties. No underwear under the uniform.

And don’t you dare touch yourself tonight.

That pussy belongs to me now.”

He pushed her gently but firmly out the door.

Lila stumbled into the hallway, heart pounding, thighs slick, mouth swollen, mind reeling.

Downstairs, the front door opened, and Mrs. Isabelle cheerful voice rang out…

“James? I’m home early, darling!”

Lila pressed herself against the wall for a second, catching her breath, then forced her shaky legs to carry her downstairs, trying to look like nothing had happened, even though every step made her soaked folds rub together and her body scream for the release he’d denied her.

She knew one thing with terrifying certainty:

Tomorrow morning… she would obey.

And she would beg for more.