I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Zafron stood in front of the mirror, toweling off his damp hair. A contented smile played on his lips as he reflected on the bath he'd just enjoyed with Madam Matilda.

"Nothing like a good time with Madam Matilda," he mused silently, running his fingers through his hair.

As he reached for his shirt, a sharp knock echoed through the house. Zafron's eyes widened, and he hastily pulled the garment over his head. Curiosity piqued, he hurried towards his door, eager to see who had come calling at this hour.

Before he could reach the door, he caught sight of Madam Matilda's elegant figure gliding down the hallway. Zafron hung back, watching as she approached the entrance with measured steps.

Matilda opened the door, revealing a familiar face – the cart driver who had brought her to the house just days ago.

'I have seen him around the mansion before. He was the one that brought I and the mistress here. What's he looking for? Wait, could he be the one that brought the mistress and left as well because I didn't see him that day,'

'Wht is he here now? Is the mistress leaving?' Zafron thought, not sure he appreciated the prospects of her departure anymore.

The man doffed his cap respectfully as he stood before Matilda.

"Good evening, Madam," he said, his voice gruff but polite. "I've brought the package you were expecting. It's in the cart, safe and sound."

Matilda's face lit up with pleasure. "Excellent timing," she replied, then turned her head slightly. "Zafron!" she called out. "Would you be so kind as to assist our good man in bringing the packages from the cart?"

Zafron stepped forward, nodding eagerly. "Of course, Madam Matilda. I'd be happy to help."

With a spring in his step, Zafron followed the cart driver outside, ready to retrieve whatever items awaited him.

Zafron's eyes widened as he approached the cart. It was laden with packages of various sizes, far more than he had anticipated.

As he began to sort through them, he realized most were food items – sacks of flour, preserved meats, jars of pickles, and an assortment of other provisions. There were also boxes that seemed to contain other household necessities.

"My word," Zafron muttered under his breath, hefting a particularly heavy crate. "Madam Matilda must be planning quite the extended stay."

He worked efficiently, making multiple trips between the cart and the house. With each journey, he couldn't help but reassess his assumptions about Madam Matilda's visit. It was clear now that she intended to remain far longer than he had initially thought.

As Zafron focused on his task, he became aware of hushed voices some distance away. Glancing up between armfuls of packages, he noticed Madam Matilda and the cart driver engaged in what appeared to be an intense, private conversation.

They stood far enough away that their words were lost to the evening air, their body language suggesting a matter of some importance.

Zafron felt a flicker of curiosity, but he quickly suppressed it. It wasn't his place to pry into Madam Matilda's affairs, and even if he wanted to, the distance made eavesdropping impossible. He returned his attention to the task at hand, respecting their privacy.

By the time Zafron had transferred the last of the packages into the house, the sun had dipped low on the horizon. The cart driver then left.

As Zafron finished bringing in the last of the packages, Madam Matilda joined him inside. Her face bore a serious expression as she began to explain.

"You are probably confused. Why all these? Yes? Well, I want you to understand why we need this many supplies," she said, her voice low and measured. "It's crucial that we're fully stocked in case... well, in case anything unforeseen occurs."

She then proceeded to give him detailed instructions on where to store each item. "The perishables go in the kitchen store and fridge. Some items should be kept on the table for easy access. And this," she said, holding up a small container, "this is medicine. It goes separately."

Zafron's curiosity got the better of him. "Medicine, Madam? Are you unwell?"

Matilda shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. "No, not for me, Zafron. It's for the twins' mother."

This revelation piqued Zafron's interest even further, but before he could inquire more, Madam Matilda continued.

"Once you've finished arranging everything, I need you to help me deliver this to her. Their house isn't far."

She led Zafron to the window, hands on his shoulders as she began pointing out a house partially hidden behind some trees. "There, you see? Just beyond that cluster of pines. The gate is that iron one, with the twisting vines."

Zafron nodded, taking in the information. It's not like he didn't already know the place but it would be rude to interrupt the mistress when she was talking.

After he was done arranging the packages, he carefully picked up the medicine container, its contents rattling softly as he held it. Before he could step out, Madam Matilda's voice stopped him.

"Zafron," she said, her tone serious, "please tell the twins' mother that this medicine is for her to keep in case... in case the sickness returns. The previous batch I gave her may be finished or nearly so."

Nodding his understanding, Zafron set out on his short journey. As he walked, he took in his surroundings with keen interest. The path was lined with old oak trees.

"What a lovely area," he murmured to himself, admiring the wildflowers that dotted the roadside. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of pine from the nearby woods.

Arriving at the iron gate Madam Matilda had described, Zafron knocked firmly.

Silence greeted him.

Frowning slightly, he knocked again, this time a bit louder. Still, no response came from within.

"Perhaps they've gone out," Zafron mused, beginning to wonder if he should return later. Just as he was about to turn away, he decided to try one last time.

His third knock was met with a sudden flurry of movement from inside. A young voice, unmistakably belonging to Giselle, called out, "I'm coming!"

As Zafron waited, he heard footsteps approaching. It was that of a lady, her voice, muffled but audible through the door, carried a mix of anticipation and mild frustration.

"I expected you to come earlier, Rachel," she was saying, her tone playful yet tinged with impatience. "Why are you only arriving now? I've been waiting all..."

Her words cut off abruptly as she opened the door, revealing Zafron instead of her friend Rachel whom she had been expecting. Giselle stood there, dressed in a tight-fitting short milk gown, her expression rapidly shifting from eager anticipation to shock and embarrassment.

"Oh Zafron!" Giselle exclaimed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I'm sorry, I thought you were... someone else."

Zafron's eyes however drifted down to her chest, where the gown clung tightly against her huge melons, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Zafron swore he could see her pink nipples pointing accusingly at him.

He swallowed hard, before replying.

"Uhh....hi Giselle!"

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