The morning sun poured golden light across the silk sheets, but Ragga van Elson was already wide awake.
And rock fucking hard.
The memory of last night's "welcome service" still burned into his mind—the twin maids panting, whimpering, grinding against his body until he painted them both in thick, hot cum.
And now... now he was starving for more.
"I need to explore," he thought, staring at the ornate canopy above him.
"If I'm really inside King of Milfs... then this mansion should be one giant fuck palace."
He sat up, the silk sheets pooling around his bare waist, revealing the heavy, angry cock still twitching against his lower abdomen.
"God, it's like this thing has a mind of its own..." he muttered, stroking himself lazily as he slid out of bed.
No clothes.
Just hard, naked male perfection striding through halls dripping in scandal.
He cracked open his bedroom door—and the first thing he heard was giggling.
Soft. Sultry. Dangerous.
Two maids were whispering just down the hall, their plump asses swaying under scandalously short skirts as they scrubbed the floors on hands and knees.
"...they say Lady Verena snuck into young master Ragga's bedchamber last night," one whispered, her voice dripping with scandalous glee.
"And he made her cum five times before she fainted," the other gasped, dropping her sponge in shock, her cleavage nearly spilling out as she bent lower to grab it.
Ragga leaned casually against the doorframe, letting his massive cock bob lazily in the open air.
"They think the old Ragga did that? Hell no. That's gonna be MY record now."
The maids finally noticed him.
Their cheeks flushed scarlet. Their eyes dropped immediately to his heavy, swinging cock—and widened.
The blonde one bit her lip so hard it turned white.
The redhead whimpered under her breath, thighs clenching together, as if fighting the instinct to pounce.
Ragga smirked, cock flexing proudly under their gaze.
"Carry on," he said lazily, voice dripping aristocratic arrogance.
The maids scrambled to obey, but not before sneaking one last, burning glance at his cock.
God, he loved this world already.
The mansion was a labyrinth of temptation.
Every corridor. Every door. Every breath of air smelled like sex.
First stop: the bath wing.
Steam billowed from the open doors, carrying the scent of soap and naked bodies.
Inside, a squad of bath maids were busy scrubbing down the marble floors.
Naked.
Completely, shamelessly naked.
Their luscious bodies glistened with sweat and water, tits swinging freely as they scrubbed on hands and knees, asses wobbling with every movement.
One bent over too far, her glistening pink folds fully exposed between her spread thighs.
Another laughed too hard, making her tits slap together noisily.
Ragga's cock hardened instantly.
"This isn't a mansion... this is fucking hentai heaven," he thought, licking his lips.
He stepped into the steam, his presence immediately noticed.
A dark-haired bathmaid gasped, her hand slipping on the wet floor—and she fell forward, landing face-first against his cock.
"Y-young master!" she squeaked, cheeks flushing violently as her lips brushed against the thick, veiny shaft.
Ragga growled deep in his throat, grabbing a handful of her hair, gently but firmly.
"Is this how you greet your lord?" he said, voice low and dangerous.
The maid whimpered.
Then—obediently—she opened her mouth wider, letting the heavy tip of his cock slide between her lips.
Wet heat. Soft tongue. Absolute submission.
Ragga closed his eyes, groaning in pleasure.
He guided her slowly, fucking her mouth with lazy, powerful thrusts as the other bathmaids looked on, wide-eyed, their hands drifting down between their legs to rub themselves through the wetness.
The dark-haired maid gagged slightly as he hit the back of her throat—but didn't pull away.
Instead, she moaned around his cock, her throat vibrating deliciously.
His balls tightened. His body tensed.
"Goddamn, I'm close..."
With a final grunt, he thrust deep and unloaded directly down her throat.
The maid swallowed desperately, her throat working furiously to gulp every drop of his thick, salty cum.
When he pulled out, strings of spit and semen clung to her lips.
She slumped to the floor, dazed, smiling, rubbing her swollen belly.
The other bathmaids clapped softly, cheeks flushed, eyes shining with pure, desperate lust.
Ragga gave them a lazy wave and turned back into the hall, his cock still slick and half-hard, bouncing proudly.
Next: the laundry wing.
He wandered deeper into the mansion, humming under his breath.
The laundry rooms were even worse—or better—depending on how you looked at it.
Maids bustled about, arms full of lacy panties and translucent nightgowns.
One clumsy brunette dropped her basket—sending dozens of silky thongs fluttering to the ground.
As she bent over to pick them up, her skirt lifted, revealing a glistening, freshly-shaved pussy dripping with excitement.
Ragga couldn't help himself.
He sauntered over, grabbed her hips, and pressed his cock against her steaming slit through her panties.
She gasped, trembling, but didn't resist.
Instead, she ground back against him, soaking her panties further.
He slid them aside, lined up his still-hard shaft, and pushed in slowly.
Hot. Tight. Quivering. Perfect.
The maid whimpered, biting her hand to muffle her cries.
Ragga grunted, thrusting deep into her, one hand twisting into her long hair, the other spanking her ass with sharp, wet smacks.
Her body convulsed in seconds, orgasm tearing through her like a lightning strike.
Her juices splattered down his thighs as she shook and sobbed his name in broken, worshipful moans.
Ragga pulled out, stroking himself once—twice—and painted her lower back with thick ropes of cum.
She collapsed onto the laundry, panting, a blissful smile on her face.
"No shame," Ragga thought, laughing breathlessly as he wiped his cock clean on her panties.
"This whole fucking mansion has no shame at all."
Then he found it.
The hidden hallway.
Behind a slightly ajar door at the end of the laundry wing.
The air was cold.
The walls were lined with portraits—each one of a beautiful woman.
Maids. Noblewomen. Widows. Daughters.
Some smiling seductively. Some blushing. Some naked.
Each portrait had a red X slashed across it.
Every woman Ragga—or the old Ragga—had conquered.
"A fucking trophy hall."
At the very end of the hall was a blank frame, waiting, expectantly.
His blood thundered in his ears.
"This time... I'm filling that frame with every woman in this mansion."
His cock stirred again, already aching for more.
And this time, he wouldn't stop until every last one of them was kneeling at his feet.