>You sit up, sweaty from the assault of dreams you had. This might be the fourth or fifth time you’ve jerked awake.
 
>You groan as you reach over to your phone. It’s an hour before your alarm even goes off. Shit.
 
>You lie there, silently cursing yourself.
 
>You were dreaming about Ms. Screw. And you felt several twinges of guilt and arousal. Damnit, conscience.
 
>You think about how to even approach this situation. You’ve fallen for her, that’s for damn sure.
 
>Her caring and playful personality, her enigmatic and energetic ways… The way she doesn’t hesitate with you at all.
 
>She hasn’t even said a word and you can feel all of this from her… But what if it doesn’t work? What if she sees it as just part of
the job?
 
>You frown and roll over at that. She couldn’t. Those times she smiled at you or hugged you close to her… It felt really authentic.
 
>You roll over again. But then again… you were mostly left alone with your dad’s old haunt and stuff, plus the rest of the old account he used to share with… Her. You’re probably desperate for some sort of attention that isn’t just for your money.
 
>You grunt as you fling yourself upward and huff loudly. You have to at least communicate it, you big baby.
 
>You breeze through a somewhat time-wasting routine: Catch a shower, look at the news, get some breakfast, surf the web…
 
>You wait until it’s about time for her to show up and then immediately jog to the door. You swing it open and she’s jogging up the stairs, smiling happily to see you up and not dying.
 
“Hey Ms. S-“ You start, but she pulls you into a hug and you just sigh.
 
>You try not to focus on the fact that your face is nuzzling her breasts or that she’s wiggling in that overly-excited way.
 
>You do however, slowly hug her back, causing her to rock back and forth with you a little.
 
>You pull away, your face slightly red as you mumble encouragement to yourself.
 
“Erm. Uh. Ms. Screw…?” You ask, nervous as she turns to close the door.
 
>She pauses for a second before flinging the door shut and looking back at you.
 
“I… Uh, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You stammer, trying to dance around the actual subject you want to get to.
 
>She nods with a smile and then breezes past you into the house, looking for something to do. You shrug and follow, not knowing what she possibly could have left to do. She’s cleaned the house and you haven’t been an absolute slob, so…
 
>You hear her heels click on the upper floor as you enter the living room… How the hell is she so fast?
 
>You wait for her to come back, but after a short moment, you realize that you have no idea what she went to do, so you flop on the couch and lie there, watching the news.
 
>You hear her coming back and peek over the couch. She’s coming down the stairs with a rather large box in her hands. She shoots you a toothy grin as she trots off somewhere.
 
>You think about what could be in the box. What’s in the box…? Wait.
 
>You remember that you said she could have those old clothes that people left behind. Oh. You slink back down as you remember how… enticing she looked in that too small get-up. If there’s more than that, then you’re in trouble.
 
>You hear her walk back into the room and peek over the couch again, scared. You utter a lot “Wow” in surprise.
 
>She’s in a new outfit. A rather… rough looking one. She’s wearing a small leather jacket, a tanktop clinging to dear life on her chest and stomach. She’s wearing some seriously tight denim shorts and ripped leggings that hug her thighs for all they have. She’s
striking a pose, her arms folded and legs apart in an annoyed look.  
 
>The piece that concerns you the most is the spiked collar on her neck. Did she put it on because… Hey, she reminds you of someone… Wait, that sorta bossy chick that rides around on a motorcycle!
 
“…Gilda?” You point and guess, not sure if you’re supposed to guess in the first place or be judge to an impromptu fashion show.
 
>She claps happily as she bounces up and down, the tight tank top letting you see EXACTLY how her breasts are bouncing, the sight making you blush a bit. She stops and then takes off, probably to change clothes.  
 
>Oh. You’re playing charades, it seems. But this just brings up the question of whose clothes they are? If she’s just piecing together random outfits, someone had a LOT of variety.
 
>You slowly sink down to your stomach, trying to ignore the blood flowing to your junk as you think about how her rear looked as she ran off…
 
>You have to tell her how you feel, or she’ll find out herself. And it probably won’t be pretty.
 
>You sigh as you think of how to say it when you hear her walk back into the room. You hear something jingling as you freeze in fear. Who’s she dressed as now?
 
>You hear a giggle as you’re suddenly sat on by… Ms. Screw, leaping over your couch and then flopping on your back in a playful manner. You turn and stare, her lavender eyes and wide smile complimenting her look.
 
>She’s in a large white shirt, her arms covered in stickers and bracelets and hoops, with a simple skirt. She kept the leggings and collar though, which means…?
 
“Uh… I dunno. Who wears stickers on their arms besides that pink-haired chick that threw me a party once?”
 
>She claps her hands and bounces again, this time while sitting on your back. You get a few upskirts from your position and a part of
you wants to roll over so she can bounce on you THAT way.
 
>You let out a series of yelps as she springs off you and takes off again. Is she THAT bored? Or just have nothing to do since she already did a good job?
 
>You bite your lip as your boner is now penetrating the poor defenseless couch you’re lying on.
 
>Not even a movie this time around.
 
>…It’s in there, dude.
 
>You’re terrified to move in this condition, as she’d probably spot it a mile away, and there’s no cure for it while you’re being subjected to this game.
 
>You shift and try to think about other things, but as soon as you hear her step back in the room, your heart stops for a split second.
 
>You can’t look up. Just look at the couch arm. Become entranced in its fibers. Note all the different holes and nicks in it.  
 
>You hear the sound of heels clicking against the floor as she strides over to the couch arm. You sigh in relief, thinking that she changed back into her maid outfit.
 
>You look up and your relief fades.
 
>She did not change back into her maid outfit.
 
>Furthermore, she’s wearing make-up with this outfit.
 
>Her hair’s done up in a bun, her eyes half-closed behind a pair of glasses. Her smile is complimented with a touch of cobalt blue
lipstick, and you let your gaze wander south…
 
>Straight to her tits, the button-up shirt doing absolutely nothing to hide them as the lacy bra she has on pushes them upward. You stammer as you can’t stop your eyes from wandering down to the work skirt she has on, the thigh highs replaced with stockings.
 
>You flick your eyes back up and see that she still has the collar on. It’s disturbing you a little… but not as much as the sultry smile she’s giving you.
 
“…Arf…~” she barks in a lower voice, giving you those enticing bedroom eyes…
 
>You have to get outta here!
 
>You quickly roll off the couch and onto your back, having enough alertness to hold your head up so it doesn’t hit the floor.
 
>This, however, makes two things apparent: Your raging erection at her outfits and the color of her underwear from your position of
the floor.
 
>Blue is a very revealing color. And that bone placement is just so naughty… Crap.
 
“I… Ah… Um…!” You suddenly fling yourself upwards and onto a knee, using the coffee table as support. “I…I have to go lie down…” You stammer, trying to come up with some excuse for the way you’re acting.
 
>You stand and turn shakily to leave but you feel her hands gently wrap around your arm. You panic, not knowing what she’s planning at all.
 
“Arf… Arf arf.” She barks, low and concernedly.
 
>She tries to guide you back to the couch to lie down, but you stumble forward and drag her with you, making her bump into your arm.
 
>You shiver as you feel her breath on your back, and you can feel those amethyst eyes burning into the back of your head.
 
>You gulp, and finally give up, collapsing onto the couch. She sits with you, placing her hand on your head and calmly looking you over.
“
Arfarf, arf arf arf…?” She seems to ask, though you probably can’t answer… whatever she just asked correctly.
“
I… I’m fine. It’s just…” You focus on breathing as your heart feels like it’s about to seize. “I have something to tell you.”
 
>She attentively nods and places her hands in her lap. Her smile shrinks considerably, almost to a pout…
 
“U-uh, it’s not that I’m laying you off or letting you go or anything…” You say, trying to reassure her.
 
>She looks over to you, her face worried. It’s the same one she made in the store… she’s afraid.
 
>You reach over slowly and pat her on the head, minding the bun she’s put her hair in… It causes her to wince a little, and close her eyes.
 
“You’re not in trouble, alright? I just… overreacted, because…” You work up the courage to say it.
>
Come on. Say it. Say how you feel about her. It’ll make BOTH of you feel better. DO IT. BEFORE YOU MESS IT UP!
 
>You take a deep breath and feel her tense up.
 
“I… Really, REALLY like you Ms. Screw.” You finally say.
 
>She looks up suddenly, into your eyes, searching for something.
 
“I like you… probably a lot more than someone like me should. I mean… I’m a giant kid that’s been left alone with money and a house, but…” You pause, wondering how to put it. “None of it really makes me happy."
 
>Say it. Say what you mean.
 
>"You do. You make me happy.”
 
>Silence… And the she breaks out into a wide smile. She looks relieved, but also a bit surprised. You can feel her energy coming back as she rocks underneath your hand.
 
“It’s more than liking you, really… I think I’m…” You pause, noting that she’s stopped again. “In love with you, Ms. Screw. Everything about you… Your energy, your devotion, your smile…”
 
>Silence again… Her eyes are wide, but her mouth is wide open in surprise. Or shock. You wince, thinking that she’s going to turn you down.
 
“… I realize that… You may not feel the same way. And I’m fine with whatever you decide. So… I-I guess… I should ask… Do you?” You realize that you’re shaking, the words low and trembling, and lower your head.
 
>You wait for her to dismissively pat you on the head, or just shake her head… You’re not a stranger to rejection, but you feel this one would probably hurt you badly.
 
> You look up and- Oh.
 
>Her arms are wide open… She’s smiling, but there are tears in her eyes too. Your heart skips several beats as she nods slowly, welcoming you into her embrace.
 
>You slowly lurch forward, and then wrap your arms around her, feeling all your fears dissipate as she wraps her arms around you, her hold firm and sure.
 
>You suddenly slump, all the tenseness leaving your body as you realize the events that unfolded.
 
>She said yes. She does love you. And she’s hugging you. Accepting your love…
 
>You strangle back a sob as a few tears of pure joy roll down your face, not wanting to mess up the clothes she’s wearing with your bawling.
 
>She looks down at you with that smile that makes you feel like you’re finally happy.
 
>You pull back, wiping your nose and eyes with your shirt. You’re still shaking from the revelation that she loves you back.
 
“I… I… Ah… I think you look good in anything, to be honest…” You say, not really focused and rambling. “That’s why I … ah… get flustered a lot around you. I didn’t want you to think I just thought of you in that way… N-not that I wouldn’t or don’t, but-!”
 
>You catch yourself right at the end. Did you really just say that, dumbass…?
 
>You look up, pretty sure that she’s going to be frowning at you for being so awkward.
 
>But she’s already up and walking away, her heels clicking in their usual high tempo. Is she going to change? Or did you hit a nerve, or…?
 
>You shake your head, those negative thoughts vaporizing at the fact that she said she loves you. It’d probably take a lot more than you being a bit stupid to deter her.
 
>You hear her heels click back into the room, slowly, as your attention snaps back to her.
 
>She’s craned her head to the side, her outfit empathizing the naughty look she’s giving you. She’s let her hair down, but hasn’t changed her outfit at all… except that she’s hooked the collar to something.
 
>You follow the long strap to her hand and gasp audibly at what it is: A leash. She’s wearing a collar and leash.
 
>You stammer at the implications of her wearing an item and then the realization slaps you in the face.
 
>The book in the mail… must’ve given her ideas about what you’re into.
 
“I… Ah, M-Ms. Screw… Y-you don’t have to do that for m-“ You stop suddenly as she places the leash in her mouth with a wink.
 
>The words you were saying suddenly get lost as she slowly crawls onto the couch and towards you. You lean back, not sure of these developments at all.
 
>She tilts her head the other way, crawling on top of you and letting the leash fall onto your chest. Her weight feels like a ton as you’re helpless to communicate the point you want to make.
 
>You look down at the leash and then back up, Ms. Screw giving you a gentle yet very naughty look.
 
>You want this. You’re very sure of that, as you feel your arousal pitch a tent against her thigh. But…
 
>But what? Are you scared? Chicken? Or…?
 
>You feel a whimper come from yourself as you prepare to speak.
 
“M-Ms…. Ms. Screw. E-even though we both feel… like… Um, this toward each other… I-I’d like it if we didn’t rush things?” You squeak, unsure at everything.
 
>She leans back and nods in understanding, but you see her eyes flick down to your crotch for just a second. She’s antsy about it, too? Or eager about it…?
 
“You can tell how I feel, right? I… just don’t wanna mess it up, if that makes sense...?” You guess, unsure of yourself on that.
 
>Again, she nods, taking off the collar and leash altogether and sitting it on the table, A small smile on her face at your decision.
 
>... Now's a good time as any.
 
>You reach up slowly, feeling her eyes beeline to your hand. She looks excitedly between you and it before you place it in her hair.
 
>She collapses onto you, surprising you with her weight and sudden movement. She revels in the fact you’ve decided to pet her and giggles, causing you to giggle in turn.
 
>You lie there, thinking about what to do…
 
>You’ve heard of calling in and promoting specific maids to a permanent status, but can you?
 
>You look down at her as you pet her, her face calm and serene as you stroke her soft, sky blue hair.
 
>It’d be worth it, that’s for sure.