Gacha Maid Outfit Novels & Stories

“Shut up and do your job, or I’ll have your hide stretched over my next clutch. That's pretty expensive. Get to work.” “Anyone else outside!” I yelled out into the hallway. Another maid, older and trembling, appeared almost immediately. “Don’t stand there like a fool. Get my makeup. I want a full face glam. Smoky eyes, and a bold lip. Move your ass.” She rushed over to the vanity to begin unpacking the brushes and the palettes, and I took my seat. The first maid reappeared with the garment bag. I ripped it open. It was a bright, wine-red shirt dress. With structured shoulders and a latex corset boned to hell and back. Perfect.

I wanted to be pinned down. I wanted bruises on my hips and teeth on my neck. I wanted to be used like I was something to lose control over. And I tried everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. The maid outfit? Not the boring Halloween kind, the nasty one. Mesh black lace, a plunging neckline that showed off the tops of my nipples, and a skirt so short you could see my wax job. No panties. I served him dinner in it, heels clicking across the floor while I bent over the table, made sure he could see the curve of my ass, made sure he could smell how wet I was.

Red. Red. Red. The maid lifts one excitedly. “Oh, this one would look beautiful on you!” Then another. “These are the finest gowns the pack has to offer! The Alpha personally asked that I get you—” “Of course he did,” I mutter dryly. The maid doesn’t catch the sarcasm as she enthusiastically piles more red dresses into her arms as if she has been waiting her entire life for this moment. She gushes, holding up a fitted crimson gown with a dangerously low neckline. “This shade would make your eyes look—”

“I don’t know why you guys keep doing that. He hates sacrifices.” We all turned to look at Miaka as she entered the throne room. Today, she wore her royal attire that consisted of a black gown as dark as night that swirled like black mist around her ankles and intricate vine-like gold cuffs that twisted up her elbows. Her hair was in red ringlets around her face, and the talisman, a locket that only the Demon King had the right to wear, laid on her chest. The blue gemstone in the middle of it vibrated with fierce power.

I sat up in my bed feeling groggy with my hair in a frizzy mess, "Fine..." I got up and sat in front of my dresser while a maid brushed my hair. As she did, I saw another maid enter the room through the reflection in the mirror. She was carrying an outfit I hadn't seen before, "What's that outfit?" "This is your uniform, miss." "I have to wear a uniform?" "Yes, miss." After the maid finished brushing my hair, I turned around and had a good look at the outfit I had to wear. It was a knee-length blue skirt with a matching blue blazer, a phoenix embroidered on the chest, and a tie.

I whispered as she whined, complaining and studying her appearance, while the maid behind her ties the crisscrossed strings into tiny knots, “You're training me to fight in this hideous dress? The built-in corset is squishing my organs together, What chance does Eve have of killing me herself if I suffocate,” Eyeing Lilith, she was outfitted with a red dress, puffy at the hips, with high perky breasts at the top, “Thank you for your service," I nodded to the human maid who wore a knee-length black dress, and a mesh veil over her head, covering her face. She must be mourning the loss of someone, a relative— or maybe she's a widow, Bowing before Lilith, she hangs her head low, brushing past my

"And their stupid rules? Oh my God! It's just so frustrating! I can't believe that there are some places that one could go and could not. All the gates are to be closed at exactly 10:00 pm. I don't even know what he really wants from me, I have been given the maid's cloth but I don't know yet, what my work is. I only help Mrs. Samuel in the main kitchen every day- I thought again frustratedly. The maids entitled to the Queen quarters are to wear a Royal blue skirt and white top, while maids entitled to the King quarters are to put on a pitched top and a brown skirt, and the two princes, their maids can oy put on green gown only a personal maid could wear a golden gown.

Just then, the door rang and I covered myself well with the towel Me: come in A maid walked in Maid : hello ma'am, Prince Adrian sent me here to attend to you Me: ohhh She was with two shopping bags She places them on the bed and brought out the contents. The first was cloths The other cosmetics Me: did you just buy these Maid : no ma'am, the Prince ordered it personally She handed me the cream and showed me the other things then excused me The clothes consisted of two nighties, a red gown, two shorts and three shirts, blue white and red.

She had heard scary stories about how maids were treated bad or starved or not paid. But her story was different, her bosses were nice to her. She didn't know what made Zendaya had changed towards the house helps. She had learned a valuable lesson since Carlotta. Puta, ¿tu marido te está engañando con Otra mujer y estás preocupada por él (Whore, your husband is cheating on you with another woman and you are worried about him)? Zendaya's conscience argued. Shut up brain! She said opening the car door and stepping out. She was dressed in a black A-line off-shoulder dress and paired it with 6-inch platform heels and a black clutch. She was adorned in black from head to toe and she rocked it.

I mumbled sadly, it was so frustrating and so unreal to be living through all this, even though it was almost two months since I moved in, it was still all a bit of a fantasy, I refused to connect with reality once and for all. It was too painful! I looked calmly at the contents of the box, which contained five gray shirts with dark blue stripes and five dark blue viscose pants in the same shade as the shirt. At least I'd have one clean outfit a day to wear, I thought. I also had five pairs of white socks and three pairs of very, very ugly black shoes, the exact type worn by the waiters. I swallowed down the tears that threatened to break out again, controlling myself so as not to cry anymor