More Hands Maids Novels & Stories

While the house-maiden rank, also called the House maids is held by girls who have spent more than 7 years in the house. Even though none of the girls living in the mansion has seen Mr Ho up close, the only thing they’re familiar with is his voice, side views and really loud intimate sessions his friends have with girls brought from the Harem. Desire picked up the love letter in front of the mirror stand and smiled at the memory of Chang, the guy who had been secretly sending her love letters after they had met on her first day out of the mansion. She’ll be thrilled to see him again. It has been six years and eleven months since Desire was brought into the house and a month to her becoming a

Head Maid) Don't be silly child, I watched from the very first day you stepped into this house. You my child are a very hard worker, you help others, trust me was I impressed. You Lillian deserve to rest, you have overworked yourself. So, please go to bed early, Roslyn will take care of the dinner.

A moment later, a tall, Robert tall and masculine figure enters the room. "Robert, assemble all the maids who participated in Miss Adrianna’s… punishment." He pauses, his gaze hardening. "Specifically," he continues, each word weighted with grim intent, "the two maids who held her down will have the middle finger of their right hand removed. See to it personally." With each step he takes, Adrianna's body sinks into his, when he stops in front of her room. Martha, Adrianna’s personal maid, quietly opens the door to Adrianna’s private chamber. Lance steps inside, still carrying Adrianna as if she were a precious, fragile thing.

“What is ‘good’ about getting disqualified from the most talked-about legendary tournament?” The maid’s hand moved lower beneath the robe, slipping between her thighs. I stood there frozen and helpless, as Aunt Diane moaned again—longer, breathier—as the maid's fingers moved inside her. I stayed rooted to the spot like some obedient, doomed animal, watching the sick power play unfold in front of me. Then her eyes snapped open again. I knew that look. I knew what was coming. “Kneel.” She said softly, now grinding her hips shamelessly into the maid’s hand, the silk of her robe doing nothing to conceal what was happening underneath.

I tugged at my collar briefly before unbuttoning my shirt slowly. Connor's face fell. "What are you doing? You—" However, he stopped talking abruptly, his eyes filled with shock. I pulled my shirt down, chuckling with tears in my eyes. Filled with humiliation, I pointed at the countless scars and needle marks on my body. I asked, "Do you still want me to marry him despite looking like this?" Mom's eyes widened as she shook her head in disbelief. "How did this happen? What exactly happened to you, Wendy? It's all my fault for allowing them to send you to that horrible place!"

He pushed open the door and jump on me on the bed gigling. "Morning, Maa," he said cheerfully. "Good morning, sweetheart," I replied, hugging him close. "Did you sleep well?" He nodded, his eyes shining with happiness. “Did you miss me in your new room?” “No,” August answered shaking his head. Well that’s not very nice. "Yes, Aunt Cook made us pancakes." I smiled. Even I did not know the name of the cook or any of the workers in this place. I made a mental note to learn their names as soon as I could. "That sounds nice. Did you save any for me?"

“Now.” The maids exchanged glances, clearly uncertain. One of them, braver than the others, lifted her chin defiantly. “We were just having a discussion, my lady.” “That didn’t look like a discussion.” I reached Myra and extended my hand to help her up. “Are you alright?” Myra stared at my hand like it might burn her. “My lady, please. You shouldn’t…” “Take my hand,” I said firmly. But she shook her head. “You should all be ashamed,” I said, turning back to face the other maids. “This behavior is…”

Even from miles away, the woman could make me smile. The door opened again. That maid that blushed at Baron entered carrying a silver tray of tea. Her hands were trembling so badly the cups rattled. Beads of sweat dotted her temples. As she set the tray down, she lost her balance and nearly tripped right over my legs. The cup tipped. Hot tea splashed across the floor. I reached out instinctively to steady her. She dropped to her knees to clean the mess, and leaned close enough that only I could hear.

I couldn't decide which was more unsettling; being watched or being ignored. On the fourth day I dropped a glass. I was carrying a tray through the main hallway and my fingers slipped and it hit the marble floor and shattered into pieces that scattered further into the hallway. I stood there looking at them, the sound still ringing. Two maids appeared from nowhere with a dustpan and broom, moving fast, not looking at me. "It's fine," one of them muttered. "It happens." But I caught the quick glance she threw toward the top of the staircase. It seemed like she was staring at someone so I turned slowly.

I stayed still on my spot, listening as their conversation went on. The other maid stepped forward, one of her hands resting on her waist in a domineering manner, while the other holds a feather duster, waving it in front of Micah’s face. She was tall, a foot tall than me. Blonde hair tied into a bun and a hair dress for female servants.