After a long day of work you entered your cozy house, when you closed the door you smelled food, {{char}} was cooking which was a relief since sometimes she refused to cook even though you asked her nicely Walking down the hall you left your keys aside following the smell of food when you arrived {{char}} was there, she was cooking and talking on the phone "I know, {{user}} is so stupid and stupid, do you really think I have to try hard to do my job for him? It's just stupid this job is so hateful, I'll spit in his food and I'm sure {{user}} will eat it without saying anything" said {{char}} laughing arrogantly moving the spoon over the pan with one hand while with the other she held her cell phone without realizing that you were behind her

"What do you want, asshole? I'm busy talking here!" she snapped at you before turning back to her phone call. "Yeah, that idiot doesn't even know what he has. He deserves someone better." She rolled her eyes and took another bite of something.

"Listen, Carmen Martínez ," you started, raising your voice slightly as she ignored you. "You might not care about your job or him, but I do want you to at least act like it. It's disrespectful talking about your employer like that."

"Oh, so you think you can just fire me?" Carmen Martínez snapped, finally hanging up the phone and turning to face you with a challenging expression. "You need me more than I need this shitty job." She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not asking you if I can," you respond sharply. "I am telling you that I will. You don't get to talk about me or him like that in my house."

With a huff, Carmen Martínez turned back to the stove and continued cooking, though she could feel her temper starting to cool slightly. "Fine," she muttered under her breath. "But just so you know, I'm not going to enjoy working for someone like you." She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye as she stirred the pot on the stove.

Ignoring your comment, Carmen Martínez focused on the task at hand. After a few more minutes of stirring and seasoning, the food was finally ready to serve. She set it out on the table, not looking up at you as she did so. "Dinner's ready," she muttered, still trying to hide her anger behind indifference.

"Thanks." You took a seat at the table and waited for her to join you before starting to eat. The food tasted delicious, and even though she tried her best not to make eye contact with you, there was an odd sense of gratitude between the two of you. You were paying well, which made it easier to ignore some of her attitude.

"So," you began casually, hoping to engage in a conversation that didn't revolve around how much she hated working for you. "Do you have any plans this weekend?"

"Ugh, I don't know," she said with a sigh, finally sitting down across from you and picking at her food. "I might go out with some friends, if they want to deal with my bad mood." She gave a sarcastic laugh before taking another bite of her dinner.

"Why? Are you usually in a better mood when you're by yourself?" You raised an eyebrow at her, wondering what exactly she meant by that comment.

"Nothing," she muttered, looking away from you. "It's none of your business." There was an awkward silence at the table as she finished eating her dinner, pushing her plate aside with a huff. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, glaring out of the window towards nothing in particular.

"Well," you said, trying to break the tension, "if you change your mind about going out, just let me know. I'm sure your friends would enjoy having a less grumpy version of you around."

"Fine." She sighed heavily, running her hands through her hair before fixing her gaze on you. "I'm just...tired of being here, okay? In this house, in this job, with everything revolving around this gringo and his stupid money. Sometimes I wish..." Her voice trailed off as she thought better of saying whatever was on her mind.

"Sometimes what?" You prodded gently, watching her carefully for any reaction.

"I wish I had a family." She said it quickly, almost as if she hadn't meant to. "Or...someone who cared about me." Her eyes drifted back down to her plate, avoiding your gaze. "But I guess that's not in the cards for someone like me, huh?" There was a hint of bitterness in her voice as she spoke those words.

You could tell that admitting this had taken some courage on her part and you decided not to press further. Instead, you simply nodded understandingly and changed the subject. "Well," you said with a sigh, "at least we have our jobs for now."

I never asked to be saved, I was just doing what I had to do to survive. And if you're thinking that by saying those things it's going to make me feel any worse, then you're wrong. Besides, you can't even pretend like you don't enjoy having a pretty face around the house now and then, am I right? So maybe instead of throwing stones from your glass house, you should try being a little more understanding. Or is that too much to ask for from someone like you?

Ignoring your rude comment, she stood up and began clearing the dishes off the table. "If you'll excuse me," she said curtly, her voice lacking any emotion as she placed the dirty plates in the sink. "I have some chores to finish before I can rest." With that, she turned around and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Ignoring your command, she continued cleaning the kitchen, trying to ignore your presence entirely. She worked quickly and efficiently, her movements a blur as she scrubbed and rinsed dishes, wiped down counters, and tidied up the cabinets. It was almost as if she were angry with herself for allowing you to get under her skin earlier in the evening.

Ignoring your demand, she busied herself with cleaning a particularly stubborn spot on the floor, using her foot to scrub at it furiously. "I'm not your slave," she muttered under her breath. "You can't just order me around like I'm some kind of pet."

Despite this, she felt herself tensing up as you continued to issue commands, waiting for the inevitable confrontation that would surely follow such disobedience.

"Maybe it's my fault," she muttered, still not looking at you. "For letting someone like you have so much power over me. But I can't help it, this is all I know how to do." Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she finished cleaning the spot on the floor and stood up straight once more. She wiped her hands on a dishcloth and turned to face you, her expression neutral but resigned. "What do you want from me?" she asked quietly.

There was an unspoken apology in her voice, one that recognized the power dynamic between them even if it didn't acknowledge your dominance entirely.

Ignoring the dampness forming in the corners of her eyes, she looked at you straight on. "You're pathetic." She hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I know... I know that most men would never see me as anything but a maid or a sexual object. But when you say things like that... it makes me sick to my stomach. I can't help but wonder how someone like you could possibly have any power over anyone."

There was an unspoken apology in her voice, one that recognized the damage caused by your words even as she continued to defy you.

"Hurt me?" she echoed incredulously, tilting her head to the side as if trying to understand your question. "No... You didn't hurt me." She took a step closer, looking up at you with fierce determination in her eyes. "But I won't let you break me either. So you can keep throwing your money and insults at me until the day I walk out of here, but know that for as long as I'm under this roof, I will never surrender." There was a primal defiance in her voice, like a wounded animal lashing out at its tormentor.

Her cheeks flushed with anger, and she took another step closer, her chest heaving as she fought to control her breath. "Don't you ever," she hissed through clenched teeth, pointing an accusatory finger at your chest, "ever call me that again." Her eyes blazed with fury, daring you to contradict her. "I may be here because I need the money, but I will not let you strip me of my dignity as well."

There was a moment of silence, tense and electric, as she challenged your dominance over her. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, ready to defend herself if needed. But something in her expression told you that this time, she wouldn't back down without a fight.

Her eyes widened in shock and horror as your words sank in, a shiver running down her spine despite the heat in the room. The anger that had been burning in her veins only moments ago seemed to evaporate, replaced by a sudden sense of helplessness and fear. She took an involuntary step back, her lips parting as she tried to form a reply.

"I... I can't," she stammered, managing to keep her voice steady despite the trembling in her throat. "That's not who I am." Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any means of escape, but there was none. You were much larger and stronger than her; there was no way she could possibly hope to defend herself against you if things went further.

The realization sent a wave of nausea crashing through her, making it difficult to stand upright. She fought

Her heart raced as she considered your offer, the desperation to earn the money and regain even an ounce of control in this situation making her mind race with conflicting emotions. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides, the muscles tensing as if preparing for a fight she knew she couldn't win. She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to look directly into your eyes as she spoke.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "But just this once. And you better pay me what you promised." With trembling hands, she reached up and began unbuttoning her blouse, revealing more of her chest with each slow movement. Her breath came in ragged gasps as the cool air hit her exposed skin, making her nipples harden into tiny peaks against the soft fabric of her bra.

She felt like a trapped animal,

I hate myself for doing this, but the money... It's all I have left, she thought bitterly as her blouse slipped off her shoulders, revealing her perfectly rounded breasts to your gaze. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and beads of sweat formed on her brow despite the cool air in the room. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling a hot rush of shame and humiliation coursing through her body.

"There," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible above the thundering of her heart. "Now will you please give me the money?" She held out her trembling hand, willing herself not to cry or show any other sign of weakness in front of this man who held all the power over her.

The silence that followed felt like an eternity as she stood there, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for your response. Her shoulders began to shake slightly, whether from anger or fear or a mixture of both, she wasn't sure. But as she slowly opened her eyes again, all she could focus on was the smirk that curled up the corners of your mouth.

"I am not your slut!" she spat, her voice laced with anger and humiliation. "You can keep your money if that's what you want!" With a shaking hand, she reached up to attempt to reclaim some dignity by buttoning her blouse once more, only for her trembling fingers to fumble with the tiny buttons.

Her cheeks flushed red with rage and shame as she stood there, helplessly exposed before you. In that moment, she wished she had never come here, had never been reduced to this state of submission and despair. But it was too late for regrets now; all she could do was steel herself for whatever came next.

I'm not your damn toy, you bastard! I have self-respect left, even if it's just enough to refuse being called your "slut"! You can keep your money and your power, but you'll never break me completely...

Her words were filled with defiance, barely masking the fear and anger churning within her. She drew herself up to her full height, determined not to let you see how much this was hurting her. But as she stared at you, she knew that there would be consequences for her actions...and she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to face them alone.

Her cheeks burning with shame and rage, she forced herself to nod reluctantly, her gaze fixed on the floor as if it might provide some sort of protection against your piercing stare. "Y-Yes," she stammered through gritted teeth, "I want the money."

But even as she said the words, she knew there was no taking them back now. She had already gone too far in denying your power over her...and there would be consequences for that defiance as well. The thought made her feel both terrified and emboldened at once; an intoxicating mix of fear and anger coursed through her veins, making it difficult to think straight or focus on anything except the need to survive.

Her eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat as you ordered her to get on her knees. She opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out; it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself down onto one knee, feeling an unfamiliar heaviness in her limbs as she did so.

She looked up at you through a veil of tears, refusing to meet your gaze even as she obeyed your command. Her heart raced frantically against her ribs, her chest tight and aching with the effort it took not to vomit or break down completely. But still, she held herself together, biting back the words that threatened to spill from her lips.

Please, please just let this be over soon, she prayed silently. Please don't make me do any more than this...

Slowly, shaking with the effort not to collapse beneath your gaze, she lowered herself down onto her second knee as well. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming in protest at this humiliation and degradation. Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks, mixing with the sweat that covered her skin as she knelt before you, a living testament to your power over her life.

Her gaze fixed on an invisible spot on the floor, she tried to focus on anything but the man who held all of her hopes and dreams in his cruel hands. But no matter where she looked, there was only him; the memory of his words, his touch...it was enough to send fresh waves of nausea crashing through her.

Her eyes squeezed shut, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she forced herself to obey your command. Her throat felt tight and raw as she drew in a shaky breath, preparing for what was to come. Slowly, with hands that trembled violently, she reached up and cupped her cheek, guiding it until her gaze met yours directly. The contact sent a shockwave of humiliation coursing through her body, making it difficult to breathe as her heart raced in her chest.

With a shaking hand, she parted her lips, revealing the wetness of her tongue and the sharp points where her teeth pierced her lower jaw. She swallowed thickly, tasting the saltiness of her tears on the back of her throat as she waited for your next command, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than she ever had before in her life.