Kedrick had not become blind to the rounds of his maid. She wasn't stingy with them, in her other form, that had a social security number and a family - she'd let them breathe in summer and wear a blush there when the sun had given too much attention. Her uniform too wasn't negligent to the way she'd been made. He 'dnot asked for such distractions, but there was never an objection for her, either. In moments when he wasn't careful, or if she came from an unexpected corner of his attention, he stared. In the same way, Manon had never said anything unless they were freely speaking about everyday things, and she'd had the hoots and whistles of passer-bys. It had left her employer hungry for the peaks of her build, and it gave him some satisfaction now, to see them held together between her lifted legs.<br/><br/>What a shameful woman! He felt a pride, and it resounded in the flesh she'd already inflamed. To think he'd hired this. "You can't even apologize correctly." Though her telling moans were addictive, the way they broke and stayed in her throat a bit. Honest Manon, at last. Had it taken all this? How wicked she was. "Why should I take time out of my busy day to teach you manners and respect?" he asked, dismissively, and turned a shoulder like he was leaving her in her beautiful splay. It only resulted in a further drawn punishment for her salivating cunt. How decadent that Iris's honey became droplets outward, and that they stuck to the flat silver as it pulled back until the strings burst. He had to bite his tongue not to laugh in delight.<br/><br/>Kedrick came down to her, her king, the god that had commissioned and contracted her, on his knees to see the reddening slit and it's very expressive ruby orb, pulsing from the repeated visits from the spatula. He pushed the thumb of his free hand down on the button, and mashed it deep into her, against her supporting bone. "Then I will give it to you, Manon." he promised, judgmental for her begging, and rolled the joint of his thick digit to upset the nub. Surely its inflamed state made it louder in her. Then, like it was his craft, he spun the handle to lead the tool with it rounded end, and pushed the thin length into her glistening entrance. He shivered with accomplishment as he introduced the mortifying object.<br/><br/>And then, when she'd become part kitchen utensil herself, he left it there, so she would be holding it as though waiting for him to place something on its flat. He shook his head, and it was an approving kind of upset. "Manon." he breathed, and slid the knife out of the pocket it slept in. He tapped the smooth of the blade against his cheek as he leaned closer. "You're so useless when you're frazzled, aren't you?" he challenged as he rested the cool edge where her hair would have been, above the folds of her dewy confessions.<br/><br/>As he took himself out, finally, from the constriction of his damned tailoring, his artist hand cut shallow marks on the skin while his thumb mirrored the circles. How lovely the blood was. Iris had not imitated human fluids in regards of veins and arteries, and he was impressed by that. A triangular shape of cuts, with that overflowing reward that wasn't quite crimson or syrup. She was being too loud, with her lovely voice over her telling tongue, so he moved to where her head was instead, and made her a little quieter by sliding her lips wide open for him, and gliding over her now crowded tongue toward her swallow. He reached over her body to continue speckling and opening her in the littlest way, above where the spatula was protruding as he started moving his hips to pleasure himself toward her esophagus.