Gay Maid Novels & Stories

Her name: Elara Vale. The convent called it an external placement program. An act of gratitude for his generous donations. But Damien knew the truth. It was a transaction. And it intrigued him far more than he’d like to admit. A virgin. A girl who had never been touched, never spoken to a man without a prayer on her lips. A girl who would blush at bare ankles, tremble at coarse language, and bow her head when addressed. She would be his maid. Damien wasn’t a man of faith. But he had rituals of his own. And breaking this one would be deliberate. Exquisite.

He snapped. Nougat made a contemptuous facial expression after hearing the list of responses. He snorted and nodded his head in feigned agreement. "Yup. You're not gay, boy! You're just a f***ing sad guy! Disgusting!" he retorted with sarcasm (gay also means happy).

Too bad a girl like her had to get involved with the Dark Crow. "I will let your father go, but on one condition!" Mark exclaimed while looking at the beady eyes of the girl who was prostrating at his feet. "I will do anything as long as you let my father go!" said Melody quickly. Tears continued to flow from the girl's glazed eyes. "Become my maid, and do whatever I ask! Anything!" said Mark emphatically. Melody was silent hearing Mark's condition. Servant? Does she have to clean the house, cook and do other household chores?

Still, when the disc jockey replaced a piece of tranquil and seductive music, everyone started dancing more intimately. A man seized a girl's waist, pressing her to his chest while his hands wandered off to her behind. His lips swiftly pressed against her, lustfully kissing her as if he possessed her. The scene became more luscious, so the man walked out of the dance floor with his arms around the girl's waist, kissing her further. The atmosphere and scenery were unsuitable for a twenty-year-old, naïve young lady. She gasped deeply after witnessing the inexplicable reality of this type of job—a prostitute who gives their body for money—enough money to live on.

I thought he was going to yell but then he continued down the stairs, past the mess, past me, and out through the front doors without a word. I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. The maid beside me exhaled too. "You're lucky," she whispered, barely audible. "Lucky how?" She shook her head quickly and went back to sweeping, like she'd already said too much. *** On the sixth day, the young maid who had almost smiled at me in the hallway sat across from me at the staff table at lunch. Her name was Rina. Twenty years old. Two years at the estate.

Not squeezing hard, just enough to hold me in place and make me feel owned. “That’s it, baby,” Leon praised, curling his fingers against my G-spot while the vibrator buzzed mercilessly. “Such a good fücking girl. Look at this pretty püssy dripping for us.” “You’re so beautiful when you let go,” Silas whispered hotly against my ear, kissing my neck. “Let it happen. We’ve got you. Cüm for us, sweet cherry. Flood his hand like a good girl.” The pleasure built higher and higher, almost unbearable. My thighs trembled in Silas’s grip. Stars exploded behind my eyes as the first powerful orgasm ripped through me. I møaned so loudly even crickets stayed quiet.

“Hi. I’d like to visit, please. The… uh… bathhouse.” “You gay, pumpkin?” The bluntness catches me off guard. I rub the back of my neck. “No, ma’am.” “Mmm-hmm.” She looks me up and down, then sets her nail file aside. “Sugar, this here’s a place for men who like men. You get that, right? Ain’t no ordinary spa. This is a safe space where boys come to play. You know what I mean?” I can feel the tips of my ears turning red. “Uh, yeah, I get it.”

I turn around to meet his chest, and naughtily grabs his balls, "They're soft too." He groans when I cup them, "Don't do it. I still want kids." I ignore his warning and let them roll on my palm, just playing with them like they're two big marbles, "Gay dads are so hot." "Yeah?" "The whole thing about being masculine and sexy but you can't get your hands on them, or the fact they'll never be interested in you, makes them soooo much hotter." Then I realise he's semi-hard, again. But this time I'm not wearing make up, or have my hair curled, not even putting on the corset or fuck-me heels so what gives?

Madam Claire stood at a corner of the bathroom quietly inspecting us with the help of two of her goons. Some of the girls who were branded before me, were already naked and being pushed into the stalls by the two goons who worked for madam Claire. Kezira and I hung back, unprepared to take off our clothes in front of the men. A small meek looking woman who was introduced as Merra pushed small cut pieces of cheap soap into the hands of all the girls present including us. When the goons were moving their inspection closer to Kez and I, I unconciously took a protective step in front of her.

You really shouldn't stoop so low to maids, where you that desperate? Jeez What is wrong with this girl? She thinks I use my maids for my desires I'm not like that But I wasn't ready to explain myself to her at all Me: we're not getting married. And even if I choose the girls on the street, it's none of your business I began to walk away from her Gladys : I thought you were decent? You're just a sexy beast. I don't want to see you near any maid or any girl, whoever they are.