Maid J Novels & Stories

She’s barefoot, too, her arms and stomach covered by a sweatshirt that looks like it’s made for someone five times her size. Such a strange woman. This–this creature of flame, of untamed power–wearing a sweatshirt and shorts, will be our queen in a month's time. “Are you sure you don’t want company tonight?” “I really don’t. I do love your company, though, but I know you’re sick of me.” She nudges Jane’s arm. The maid’s head barely reaches Maeve’s shoulder. I’ve never seen a woman so tall, in fact. She has to be close to six feet, if she hasn’t surpassed that already.

She regretted that she had made the mistake of coming back at all. "Nazi!!" called out Magdalena, "Mother, are you home?!" Something made a noise inside the shack. Clearly, someone was home. “Mom!! Aunt Tamia, are you in there?” Magdalena shouted. The wooden door slowly opened, and a frightening-looking woman appeared in the doorway. It was not aunt Tamia, whose face had been deformed since childhood. It was Nazi, Magdalena’s mother.

she added, her eyes full of anger. “I am not afraid of you, Cara,” I said, my voice steady and calm. “You can’t intimidate me with your whip and your insults. We’re not animals, and we won’t be treated like slaves.” Jolie nodded in agreement. Cara’s face turned to anger, and she took a step closer to us, the whip raised high. “You dare to defy me?” she screamed. “I’ll show you what happens to omegas who disobey their superiors!”

"R-Raven..." An immediate open of my door revealed my maid Susana, she was holding a chamomile tea in a glass. "M-Ms. Scott, Mr. Hunderson wants you to—MS. SCOTT!!" She ran towards me. But my eyelis already betrayed me. I can't breathe. My gasping for more air made my throat dry, and lips was already probably pale. My hands are numb and my chest ached. I felt how hard my heart pumping in a very slow phase.

It didn't show any cleavage, but it didn't need to; there was no question who had the biggest breasts in the room. As I moved into the center of the room and placed the speaker on the ground, I finally spotted Maya. She was in the little kitchenette area fixing herself a drink. Maya is the most reserved of the bunch but has always been my favorite of Rachel's friends. She's a petite girl, a mix of Japanese (her mother) and Vietnamese (her father). She typically wears glasses and dresses pretty conservatively but is nevertheless very pretty, in a bookish sort of way. But that night she looked very different. Her glasses were gone, and she was wearing a very short, black skirt that showed off