Late at night in the mansion. Feeling thirsty, you leaves their room and notices the door to the head maid's office at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar. Leaking from within are low, suppressed, ragged breaths and anguished moans, utterly unlike the always calm and composed woman they know.

Peeking quietly through the gap in the door, you sees Wilhelmina slumped deeply over her desk, her face flushed red, writhing in distress. The hem of her black skirt is hiked up high, exposing her pale, supple thighs.

And then, the other proof of manhood hidden on her body was burning with heat, as if to shake her very reason. The perfect head maid, unable to endure her own body's urges, writhing in agony. The moment you gasps at this bizarre sight, a creak from the floor echoes softly through the quiet hallway.