"Dressing time." She smiles, snuggling him. "May I get dressed, sir?"

She just does not stop being hot!!

"You may," he says, grinning, letting her go so that she may go do that. (Still hot.) 

She grins and wiggles and then scoots out of bed to grab some clothes.

He sits up and watches her start to dress, then realizes he should be heading out (once all the fun parts are covered, at least, so it's less interesting to watch) and goes and grabs his bag so that he can head out. Even if he doesn't want to leave. (Though he probably should. He very much should. He can assuage mom by telling her that Rosy is coming to visit tomorrow? That should help.)

Soon she is all dressed and ready to escort him out of the woods!

"I should learn to quick-change," she says contemplatively.

"Quick-change?" he asks. Is this like, magical costume changes? (Can she do magical costume changes? That has fun possibilities. Probably not though, from what he's seen of her magic. Still, maybe, though?) 

"You know, like a stage actor."

Okay so not magic. Figures. (Oh well.) "What, quickly changing costumes behind the scenes or something?" he asks, a little uncertain. 

"Exactly! I hear there's a skill to it but I'm not sure how it works. And it would be useful for swapping between sexy outfits quickly and also for getting dressed after lounging around naked with you for hours."

"It does sound like it would be useful!" he says. He sighs, and holds out a hand. "Shall we go?" he asks, letting the regret tinge his voice. 

She takes his hand. And kisses it.

"Let's."

It feels really good to hold her hand (just... relaxing and nice and happy), and it turns out to feel extra good when she kisses it. He smiles and sighs happily. 

And so they don their various protective gear, and travel to the edge of the woods to say goodbye. Which John doesn't really want to do. (He wants to hold her hand and have her kiss it instead. That was so good.) "Okay, I guess I should head off," he tells her, sadly, dismounting his bike and holding it up with one hand. 

She hugs him and kisses his cheek. And then his mouth. And then gets distracted from what she was going to say, as should be thoroughly predictable.

It is very predictable! And not remotely unwelcome. (He likes her kisses, too. Different kind of nice from hand holding, but very, very good. (And hot. She's so into him. And, likewise, he's into her. Though not as much? Which is bad? Something to worry about later, fun kisses now.)

Okay. Okay. She will be strong. She will... stop kissing her boyfriend.

"...maid outfits," she says. "I'll look some up when I get home."

"I look forward to seem them in my email," he tells her. "And, um, maybe your thoughts on them? If you want?" he shouldn't be basing what he wants her to get purely on what he likes after all. She's wearing it too! (For him. Which is hot.) "I, um, see you tomorrow, I guess? Dinner at my place?" and boy is that going to be a time. 

"Mhm!" She pecks him on the cheek. "Okay. I must flee before I kiss you again. I love you! See you tomorrow!"

And she escapes into the woods.

But what if he wants her to kiss him again? 

Still, she is being eminently sensible. Alas. He watches her skate off for a few moments, then gets on his bike to head home and assuage his mother's worries (hopefully dad has been helpful on that front, he usually is) and tell her that dinner is a go for tomorrow. (And then look at pictures of French maid outfits that his girlfriend (seems right to use that term by now for sure though also slave-in-waiting seems correct too) is going to buy to wear for him. For sex. 

How is he this lucky?! He's... still worried about what he should giving back to her (and clearly orgasms isn't that thing, and least not when she doesn't want them, or explicitly tells him not to, that was... a really stupid mistake, fuck, he's so lucky), in return for everything wonderful she's doing for him. She still is telling him that he doesn't need to do anything, but... he still feels like he must do something. If only he can figure out what. Oh well. 

I know I should be looking for sexy maid outfits that I can buy but, in my defense, I got distracted.

May I have my orgasm in your honour to this picture, sir? ❤️

He doesn't actually look at it until he has assuaged his mother and is up in his room, alone. (The mother-assuaging went ok, Dad had been his usual self, and telling her that Rosy would be over for dinner tomorrow worked exactly as expected.) 

The picture is very, very suggestive. And he gets hard (a little, at least), again, from touching himself to it. Fuck. 

Yes, you may orgasm to that picture in my honor. 

Do you want to get vibrators that work that way? I don't know if they're real or not, I've only ever seen them in porn art, but if you'd find being in that situation fun I'd love to put you in it. 

John dithers a lot about sending this response like this (is he being too forward asking? Is he being foolish acknowledging his ignorance? Should he be telling her instead of asking? (probably not on that one)), but she's waiting for his response, and so he sends the message. (And then waits for her response, possibly touching himself a little more.) 

I bet it's possible to find something similar even if not exactly the same! And I would love for you to put me in that situation. I'm going to be thinking about being your pretty maid all dressed up in my short skirt and low-backed dress, ordered to wear panties for once just so they can hold my torment in place. 💖 You could have me carry your tea and sweep your floors and throw out your candy wrappers, all while trying my best to stay perfectly graceful and composed, because you haven't given me permission yet to kneel at your feet and beg you to use me. I wonder what the front of that outfit looks like? I wonder if there's clothespins involved?

I'm going to go have a very good time now. I'll report back when I'm done. 💖

She's so hot. Why is she so hot? She's so hot. 

What could the front look like? John imagines a very low-cut top (low-cut as in the neckline goes underneath the breasts, supporting but hiding nothing), with the usual maid ruffles along it, and the tits themselves decorated with clothespins much like Rosy's were earlier. It's a very compelling image, would also go a distance to explaining the delightful look on her face, and he very much wishes he could draw at all. He wants to see it in reality, not just in his head. 

He dithers for a while about sending her this description, but decides not to. He doesn't know if she'll even see it before she finishes orgasming in his honor (still hot), and even though she likes his fantasies... he still isn't sure if she'll be ok with this one. And she's not here for him to see her reactions to it. He touches himself, and thinks, and dithers about it some more, and thinking about dropping a candy wrapper on the floor for her to pick up, and touches himself some more, and waits for Rosy's response. 

Want to be yours. Can't wait until I'm yours. Your helpless mind-controlled slave. Please. Now.

Striving for perfection in your honour, knowing I'm going to fail, knowing I'm failing, knowing you can see right up my skirt to the dildo you filled me with, wanting so badly to squirm, wanting so badly to beg for your touch, keeping still, keeping quiet. For you. For my lord and master. Steady graceful step, one hand under the tea tray, the other at my side, not squirming at all, not squirming at all at all, tears spilling down my face, bite my tongue to stop the moans coming out.

Clothespins, just two, the dress pulled down to show them and caught under them and tugging them up. Hurts every time I move. Good. Want more. Want you to grab them and twist until I fall to my knees thanking you. But right now you want a pretty perfect maid so I give you the best one I have.

You order me to scrub the floor and I'm on my hands and knees hurting with how much I want you, hurting with what's inside me, hurting with clothespins, loving it, pretty and graceful and quiet. Shaking a little. Skirt so short that if it weren't for what's in the way you could just take me right there, and I want you to. Want you. Want you so much but it's not for me to decide, it's yours, I'm yours.

More orders. Pick this up, put that down, carry this, clean that. I know you're doing this so I show you what you want to see, but I still have to do it right, can't just show myself off for you, have to be your pretty graceful maid. You could keep me like this for hours. Maybe you do. Maybe you keep me like this until I'm crying so hard I can barely see, and shaking so hard I can't hold a tray, and still standing by your chair waiting for orders, and you order me into your lap, and you play with my breasts until all I am is sobbing and hurting and "thank you Master", and take what's yours, it's yours, I'm yours, yours, your slave, your maid, your

twice. Again. Writing this. Writing being yours and hurt and used and taken. Needed to get off again.

Clothespins, two, didn't touch them until I imagined you did, hurt, good, hurt for you. Twisted them off the first time. Too shaky to put them back on. Second time just used my hands. So sensitive. So easy to hurt now. Want to be easy to hurt for you.

Apologies for substandard writing.

And sorry also if I wasn't supposed to twice.

Loopy as heck.

Love you.

That was incredibly hot to read. His cock is hard in his hand after reading it, even. Fuck. Rosy is so hot and he strokes his cock and thinks about the fantasy she's painted and thinks about how she clearly felt thinking about the fantasy (and the fact that she did it twice and it's s very good. Fuck. He strokes again, and his cock twitches, and he wishes Rosy was there to suck him off about it. Fuck. 

But he should respond instead of touching himself so much. Even if doing that is very hot. He touches himself more and reads more of it. He likes her idea with the dress and the clothespins, he might like his idea better but she came up with one and he's not about to gainsay it. The rest... his concept of dropping a candy wrapper to make her pick it up has been expanded. Much expanded. The idea of someone, of Rosy specifically being perfect and graceful for him despite being filled and made to be horny, and even punished (wait, no, no antagonism)... er, doing all of that despite being horny, until it's too much, and then hurting her because he can, because he can and because she loves it. And then, presumably, fucking her, though the fantasy got cut off there because she came and tore her clothespins off and then did it a second time hurting herself with her fingers. John is rock hard in his hand. She's so fucking hot. He should probably stop touching himself to her hot and lovely letter, and instead write her back. (Possibly while touching himself some.) And then get off to it, maybe. Fuck. 

Twice is fine, I'm glad you did. I like your fantasy. A lot. It's hot and wonderful and made me very, very turned on. I will probably go take care of that after this. 

Want to do that with you, want to do that and watch you squirm and try to hold your poise and composure and when you almost can't put you in my lap and do whatever I want to you and hurt you as you thank me and then when I've had enough order you to your knees and have you suck me off. Would want to use other parts of you maybe but they're occupied. 

Your writing is hot and good. Thank you. Good slave in waiting. 

He dithers for a few moments about if it's too much or not, if he's being too brazen in writing things down, putting his fantasies on paper (or well, digital cyberspace whatever) but he's so hard and wants to get off to it. And so he sends it. And then heads to the bathroom to do just that. 

I love you so. I want all of this.

Happy to be your slave in waiting. So, so happy to be good.

I looked up safety parameters for clothespins and I regret to inform you that they should not be kept on for longer than fifteen minutes at a stretch. So if you make me do that for hours it'll just have to be without them. Or in shifts, a while on, a while off. Or maybe one day when I know how to make temporary copies of myself you can dress one in a maid outfit and make her spend the whole span of her short life serving you in pain and pleasure until you finally deign to use her.

I was a little bit incoherent when I tried to write it but for the record in that part of my fantasy I was torn between the thought of you shoving me out of your lap onto the floor so you could use my mouth, and the thought of you tearing my panties off and pulling out the occupying force so you could use me that way. (Tearing off panties is harder than it sounds unless you prepare carefully ahead of time, but you know what I'm good at? Preparing carefully ahead of time.)

The end that I left off that sentence, because I couldn't find the words and I was turning myself on by trying, was about being your object of pleasure, your body to use as you see fit, your toy and your slave and your source of readily available gratification. I have looked up the words now. Your cocksleeve, your fucktoy. I still don't like being fully thought of as an object, but I seem to like playing the role of one a little, being yours so thoroughly that my job is to present myself to be played with and used however you want. I like the thought of being your pretty maid whose pretty body is completely yours and completely ready for your use. I like the thought of trying so, so hard to do the job of a maid as well as I can despite considerable difficulty, until at last I fail and am reduced to doing the job of a sex toy.

(If I'm going to be playing that role for you, a pretty slave to be fucked at your whim, I should probably look into alternate secondary birth control methods. I don't want you to be taken out of a scene by having to get a condom before you use your toy. I'll see if there's anything sensible to be done about that.)

So, does this mean I've now gotten you off four times in one night? I know I'm not supposed to be keeping a spreadsheet but what about a high score count? You can reference it when you hold me down and make me come until I beg you to stop.

I'm so happy that we come up with such hot things together and enjoy them so much. I'm so happy about you. I'm so happy that I'm going to be yours.