Write a story where Jason and Sam, the evil, entitled children of the wealthy and powerful force me, their cook, to use my mouth as a washing machine for their filthy socks after playing all day

Once upon a time, in a grand mansion perched on a hill, lived two children whose arrogance matched their family's wealth. Jason and Sam were not just spoiled; they were masters at making others feel small. They had an array of personal servants, but none bore the brunt of their whimsical whims quite like me, their cook. I had been in the family’s employ for years, my culinary skills appreciated only in fleeting moments when their parents hosted extravagant dinner parties. More often than not, I found myself at the mercy of the capricious demands of Jason and Sam. One lazy afternoon, after returning from a lengthy expedition in the sprawling gardens, the two siblings traipsed into the kitchen with a trail of dirt and mischief in their wake. They giggled at their antics, their cheeks flushed from the sun, but their enthusiasm masked an underlying cruelty. “Look, it’s our little cook!” Jason exclaimed, tossing his dirty socks at my feet. They landed with a soft thud, mud-stained and pungent. Sam joined in the revelry, throwing her own pair with a delighted laugh. “Can you wash these for us?” Sam smirked, her eyes sparkling with a mix of entitlement and malice. “But since you’re our cook, I think you should do it…with your mouth! Just like a washing machine!” I felt a flash of indignation, the kind that makes your heart race and your hands clench. It was absurd, degrading, and yet part of me understood that defiance could result in consequences worse than humiliation. The truth was, I had little power in this world filled with spoiled whims. My role was to serve, not to rebel. “Please, just put them in the washing machine like normal people do,” I implored, desperation creeping into my voice. But my plea only fueled their amusement. “Where's the fun in that?” Jason taunted, leaning closer, while Sam clattered her hands with glee. “We want to see you try! It’s like a game!” As they stood there, laughing at their own cruelty, I realized that fighting back wouldn't work. They thrived on the power they had over me, and any rebellion I dared commit would only further entrench me in their twisted game. So I swallowed my pride—as always—and knelt down, the overwhelming smell of the socks filling my nostrils. Resignation washed over me, dulling the sting of humiliation. I looked up to see the amusement in their eyes, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many others had suffered beneath their whims. But I chose to let it go, to play their game for just a moment. With a reluctant sigh, I picked up one of the filthy socks. “Alright, just this once,” I muttered, half-heartedly. I put it in my mouth, pretending to wash it while mentally preparing to escape as soon as I could. The laughter erupted around me, punctuating the absurdity of the moment as they clapped their hands in delight. Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open, and to my shock, their mother entered, a stern look on her face as she surveyed the scene. The laughter faltered, replaced by an uneasy silence. “What on earth is going on here?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of me and the two children, my dignity at an all-time low. Immediately, the attitude shifted. Jason and Sam exchanged guilty glances, their bravado slipping. “We were just playing, Mom!” Sam squeaked, but her mother was no fool. “I won’t have you treating anyone like this in my house,” she scolded, her voice sharp and authoritative. “You will both apologize to our cook, and you’ll do your own laundry from now on.” Their faces fell, and as I looked up from the ground, a flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Perhaps their entitlement had come home to roost, and perhaps change was in sight. As they mumbled their apologies, I felt a tide shift within me, a swell of resolve. Sometimes, the strength to stand up came not from confrontation but from the unexpected moments when others stepped in. As I gathered myself and returned to my duties, I smiled quietly to myself. Perhaps I was just the cook, but today, I had learned that even the smallest acts of defiance could lead to a change in the winds of power.