The bold maid stood above her, arms folded, lips curved in a slow, cruel smile. She didn’t move closer. She didn’t have to. Her words were enough to flay Isadora open where she lay.
“You still think you’re a person,” the maid said softly, almost gently, like she was speaking to a slow, stupid child. “You still think you’re something more than the mess leaking between your legs.”
Isadora whimpered, a broken little sound, so small it barely made it past her swollen, c*m-streaked lips.
The taller maid shifted awkwardly near the door, her eyes glassy, almost pleading but not for Isadora. No one here would save her.
“You’re not special,” the bold one continued, her voice sharpening now. “You’re not different. You’re just fresh meat. A new hole for him to break.”
Isadora squeezed her eyes s
