Clipping Her Wings - Tri-Annul

>As you rise from your relaxed posture in your study, you look over at your new “maid.”

>Oh, how you felt for this poor girl.

>A tall, muscular girl with short white hair with violet highlights stood before you, in a skimpy maid outfit, no less. You could easily peek at whatever suited you and she wouldn’t be able to hide it.  You could tell her pride was scarred. Her face, adorned with a gold eyebrow and lip piercing, was scrunched up in a fit of embarrassment and anger.

>You took a quick circle around her. She’s strong, from what you can tell… But her feminine aspects were there, as well.  She had enough to jiggle up front, and a little less in the back. You could practically feel the heat from her face.

“Why did I ever let Dash talk me into this…?” She mumbled, her hands folded in front of her. As you instructed.

>Her friend, the ever bragging Rainbow Dash, had completely wrecked a portion of your manor doing some stupid “Wunderdolt” trick, had basically offered her up as a sacrificial lamb while she went to go sign up and take her “Exam”.

>You smirk. As one of the wealthiest residents in Ponyville, you offered the spot to Rainbow Dash to avoid a lawsuit. But her friend wasn’t a bad choice, either…

>You motion for her to bow in your presence. She grits her teeth and complies. She knows who has the reins. One
upset and she’s fired, and Dash is thrown into jail.

>You nod. You pull out your cigar case and take out a specialty cigar. You admire its pink tip as you place it in
your mouth and light it. You blow the smoke toward her, a smile forming.

“Could you bring me some tea? And do clean the kitchen while you’re at it.”  You say in a soft voice.

>She frantically waves her hands and shoots an angry look at you.

“Alright, alright, I’m going…” She turns to leave but you stop her.

“You’re going….what?” You inquire, noting there’s a word missing.

She grunts and looks you in the eyes, her amber eyes fierce. You hold your gaze.

“I’m going… Master.” She spat, cringing at the word as if it hurt. She turned quickly and walked out, her heels clicking as she walked off to the kitchen.

>You smile. You’d have fun breaking this harpy. You swore on it. She was defiant, rude, and all-around a disrespectful woman. You’d change that with a little conditioning… You chuckle to yourself, as you you seat yourself and wait for her to come back.

>In the meantime, you enjoy your cigar and read the paper. You hear the sound of heels coming your way, but you don’t look up to confirm it. You know it’s her. She walks in, carting the tea and its condiments. She hastily turns to leave, her face scrunched up. She apparently doesn’t like the smell of smoke.

>That’s a Dayum shame.

“Er, Gilda, was it? Could you actually… FIX the tea?” You ask, hiding your smile for a look of contempt.

>She turns, her eyes wide.

“You’re serious? The fuck, do I have to do everything?” She asks, stamping a foot and placing her hands on her hips.

“…Yes. Because that is what you’re here for, remember?” You remind her, looking back to your paper.

>Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see her face light up and her fists ball. You ignore it and continue to read. Well. Looks like certain rain, tomorrow. A certain mean-spirited broad is out of a job. People going missing
again.

>You hear your tea get poured and sugar cubes get impatiently dropped into it. You look over and smile.

“Thank you, Gilda.” You say, meaning every word.

>She huffs and rolls her eyes as she walks away. You, of course, take a sip or two of the tea and set it on the tray. You place your paper down as you quietly slink out of the study and up to the kitchen door.

>You hear Gilda fussing and muttering to herself. She moves things around violently and you hear dishes clatter and bang and water being spilled onto the floor. You lean on the door frame and roam your eyes over her body, especially as she works her muscles and bends over. She’s moving in such a flurry that you almost fail to notice the amount of dishes missing.

“Gilda.” You say, sternly.

>She whirls around and stares at you, blankly. She then frown and squints at you. You keep your stoic face as she huffs at you.

“Enjoying the view, you fucking pervert?” She hisses, leaning back onto the counter. “How long where you there, anyway!?”

“Long enough to notice some of my dishes are missing. “ You state, and her eyes go wide. “You broke them, didn’t you?” You inquire, knowing the answer.

>She crosses her arms and shoots you a sideways look. She sighs before looking you in the eye, those amber gems showing a sliver of fear.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. But you’re loaded aren’t you? You can just-“ You cut her off.

“I know, I can buy some more. But if you watched you temper, they wouldn’t be broken in the first place, now would they?” You step towards her, gaining her full attention.

“Whoa, watch it, man. You’re getting kinda-“ Again, you cut her off, folding your arms and speaking through gritted teeth.

“How about YOU watch it, Miss Gilda? You know, I have half a mind to call off this arrangement and hire a real maid.” Her eyes widen as you turn and begin to walk out.

“Wha? Wait a second! I can do better, I swear. Don’t send her to jail!” She begs, her hands reaching after you.

>You turn and prepare a stinger of a verbal lashing. You light another specialty cigar and stare at her, a torrent of smoke flooding out of your nose.

“Odd that you care about her while she has you cleaning for me, eh? As it stands, SHE’S supposed to be doing this, not you. So shape up, calm down, and act like maid, not like a brute.”

“Okay, Okay…” She says, obviously pit off a bit by the sudden insult…

“Okay, what?” You say, tilting your head at her.

“Okay, Master.” She says, looking at the ground.

>You walk around the corner and wait for her to continue, taking a drag of your cigar and exhaling. She was stressful, that’s for sure. But it only made making her yours that much more satisfying.

>After a few, you hear the dishes and water. The sound is much lower and a bit more relaxing. You hear her sigh, as she stacks them.

“…C’mon Dash… we’ve been in some jams before, but this guy’s got us by the balls… “ She says to herself, finishing the dishes and looking around for something.

>You walk off to your grand living room, chuckling to yourself. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that she did indeed have balls, with all the apparent testosterone that was pumping from her earlier.  Oh well.

>You sit for a while, watching the news and getting comfortable. Gilda comes into the room, and stands behind you.

“I’m assuming you’re done, then. “ You say, turning to her. She’s not looking at you. Rather, she’s looking at the ground, dismayed.

“Anything else you want before I take off…Master?” She asks, her voice grating on sounding like she’s in pain.

>You think for a moment before turning and saying that you want some dinner. More specifically, something meaty. She nods and heads off. Your eyes follow her, eyes on her ass and the rainbow colored undies she was wearing underneath.  Geez, she’s hung up on that broad, isn’t she?

>We’ll have to fix that. Pronto. Nothing a little mind game or two can’t solve.

>And you know exactly how to fix it. All that’s needed is a little leading. And a little betrayal. You think about
how to execute your plan when she walks back in and claps her hands.

“Alright. Dinner’s ready. Have a good one.” She says, heading for the door.

“Wait.” You command.

>She stops, surprised. She turns her head to look at you.

“What?” She asked, a bit of annoyance creeping into her voice.

“You should eat before you go. I insist.” You say, standing up and motioning for her to come back.

“I, uh… Ahh, alright.” She complies, heading to the dining room before you.

>You follow her to the dining room and see that she’s made a large ham and some sort of rice. She serves herself a plate and sits down. After a moment, she looks at you and sighs, making your plate as well.

“You have to remember to serve me. And you should remember to serve me first.” You say, tasting the rice. It seems to be some sort of mixed flavored rice.

>She just eats, not too quietly or subtly. In fact, watching her has made you lose her appetite. You think hard on how to break such an atrocious girl. First things first…

“Gilda, do you have anything you need to go home for?” You ask, focused on her.

>She stops munching and thinks. She shrugs and goes back to chewing before swallowing and begins to answer you.

“Nah. Not much, anyway. Why’s that important?” She asks, shoveling another spoonful of rice into her mouth.

“I want you to gather what you need and stay here. So that the flow of things is established and I don’t have to wait.” You answer, leaning back.

>Gilda goes wide-eyed. She swallows all the rice her mouth and gulps down some water to prevent herself from choking. She stares at you as if you spoke the forbidden words to summon a demon from Tartarus.

“You’re kidding? You have to be! There’s no fucking way I’m staying here with you!” She shouts, standing up from her seat.

>You sigh. You’re trying to make this process easier on the both of you. Having her here would mean that she can’t see that rainbow broad. And that you can work on her extensively. She can’t be allowed to undo your work, of course.

“Look man, I don’t know what kind of bullshit you’re on, but-“ You raise a hand to silence her.

“It’s nothing major. I just want you here so that this’ll be over faster. You can understand, right? Your friend’ll come and see you here. You’ll only work your allotted hours. I won’t even bother you on your breaks. Just go with me on this.” You say, calmly persuading her.

>She huffs and folds her arms. She looks around, seemingly trying to think of some way to turn this around and make it so that the logic makes no sense. She gives up after a minute, though, and sighs.

“Fine, damnit. But why the offer? And why’re ya being so nice? I thought you hated us.” She asks, her eyes not even on you.

>You stand and stretch. You smile a bit, knowing that she couldn’t see it. You turn away from her and head for the door.

“Trust me. I don’t like this anymore than you do. The faster it’s over, the faster I can relax without worry of my antiques. I can at least make it easier on both of us.” You say, and with that, you retire for the night.

>You have a lot planned for her. A lot. And the first step is trust.

>Day 1 End…


>You arise early in the morning to start the process. You do your daily routine: Hop in the shower, maintain yourself, start the coffee, get the paper, etc.

>You wait for your servant to arrive. You made her room last night, and it’s not that far from yours.  You revel in the thought of exposing her slip-ups and her thoughts to dissect. It’s all a part of the process.

>You hear beating on your front door. That must be her.

>You go over and swing it open. She’s standing there with a large suitcase. She glares into your eyes and strides in with the undoubtedly heavy thing. She sets it down and turns to face you.

“Where’s my room?” She asks, keeping that stern expression on her face.

>You point to the wing your room’s located in. Her eyes open wide, as she knows what’s over there.

“What?! There’s only two rooms that way, and you sleep over there!” She protests, but you’re already walking off to get a cup of coffee.

>She persists, following you and still complaining. To be expected. She stamps her foot in anger. You ignore her. You’re blocking most of her whining out as you fix your cup of coffee. Finally, you turn and look her dead in the eyes. They’re fireballs at this point, but that doesn’t stop you from being cold.

“I will respect your privacy as I see fit. For now, go clean my quarters and calm yourself. I’ll see you in my study after you’re finished.” You say dismissively, and walk straight past her. As soon as you leave, you hear her let out an irritated grunt.

>You head to your study and begin your research. Your work is fairly simple to you and you only. You read from your books and come up with various theses and strategies. You then write them down to send to your company, who
will then review and analyze them, testing them out in the span of a few days.

>Very boring work, but it keeps you away from the bottom.

>After about an hour, you relax into your recliner and take out a cigar. You light it and take a long drag just as Gilda enters the room. Her face is red and it seems to show no sign of paling. You glance over at her and ask how’d it go. Which pisses her off.

“Your room was fucking nasty, dude! Clothes everywhere, bottles on and around shit, and it smelled like you!” She shouts, her arms at her sides.

>You blow a puff of smoke at her, and smirk at her reaction: A frantic waving of the hands and coughing. She looks at you and grits her teeth.

“Cut that out, you dick!” She spits, her eyes looking less like fireballs and more like demons’ eyes.

>You glare at her and do it again. This time, though, you follow through with the stronghand.

“I’d watch my tongue if I were you. Stop swearing so much and watch what you say to me. I hold the cards, remember? Your little friend could be thrown in the dungeon to share a cell with who knows who? And you act as if drinking is a bad thing, Miss Gilda. I’ve seen you at those social events. Drinking like that insatiable Punch woman at Celestia’s last celebration.”

>Gilda stares at you, her mouth open. She’s shocked that you knew about her before this arrangement. Furthermore, that you knew she was a drunk.

“I-I don’t even drink anymore! Shut-“ You silence her with a stern look.

“I’d like you to clean the shelves for me. I’ll just sit here in the meantime, and read today’s paper.” You state, taking it from the table that sits next to you and opening it.

“Get to it, Miss Gilda.” You command, flipping the paper open.

>She huffs and goes to get a rag. You fill the room with smoke, and promptly put the butt out as she returns. You peek over your paper occasionally, your eyes enjoying the sight of her tan cheeks and her soft pink undies as she reaches high up for shelves.  You can tell she feels your gaze, as she looks over her shoulder constantly.

>You decide that she’s focused. Time to delve into this harlot’s mind.

“You’re not bad at this job. Do you do it often?” You ask, your voice monotone and blank.

“Somewhat, I clean up my friend’s place and my own. Can’t live in a sty all the time, you know.” She answers, referring to your room earlier.

“Ah. I see. What do you do, then?” You ask, still reading the paper.

>Silence. Either it’s touchy or…

“You don’t have a job?” You inquire, lowering the paper a bit. You see her look your way, her eyes filled with a sad look.

“No. I can’t do regular jobs. Too damn demanding… Sorry.” She apologizes.

>Good. You’ve hit a sore spot. Time to heal it right up.

“Well then. What if I begin to pay you for what you do here? 20 dollars an hour.”

>Gilda stops altogether and looks at you. She’s scanning you, trying to find the hint of sarcasm or the sarcasm in your voice. She opens her eyes wide when she can’t.

“Seriously…? Why?!” She stammers, not understanding the sudden act of kindness.

“I have money to throw around. And maybe the promise of money will improve your mood.”

“What? I …guess? I dunno.” She mutters.

>You look back down to your paper.

“Where’s your friend?” You ask. “Thought she would come on by to relieve you or something.”

“Uh… Y-yeah… I thought so, but it turns out that… the Exams are, uh… extended.” She pieces together the excuse as well as a two year old with a ship-in-a-bottle.

“Ah. I see.”  You say, an understanding tone in your voice.

>Like hell she would come by here after what she did to your manor. She’s giving this area a wide berth. And her friend is simply the means to do the job from afar.  She seems used to that. But you’ll break that habit… along with her and her friend, of course.

“Well, I’d say be careful with those items. They’re priceless.” You go back to your cold voice, and you don’t get a reply. “You may take a break occasionally now and then. But I won’t tolerate slacking.”

>She turns and nods, but you don’t really mind it. She’s feeling unsure of herself, her feelings about this arrangement or you. You can sense it in the way he’s began working. From a more forceful pace to a slower one, she’s thinking and considering.

>You get up and set your paper down. You feast your eyes on her ass and its delectable curves, and how it simply devours those pink panties like a thong. You smirk and stand up, heading to the door. You can sense her eyes on you as you leave, and you smile for one good reason: She felt them for certain that time, and she doesn’t want to ruin how things are playing.

>You go to the kitchen and take out two tall glasses and fill them with ice. This is going to be interesting. You turn and head back to your study, and when you open the door, you see Gilda staring longingly out the window and up into the sky.

>You set the glasses down and go over to your wine cabinet, pulling out some red wine. You crack open the bottle and pour you and her a glass.

“Waiting for someone…?” You ask, striding over to her and offering the glass.

“She’s supposed to be here by now…” She says, sighing and taking the glass.

>You decide to pry more information out of her. Seems like a perfect time, anyway.

“How’d you meet? Flight school?” You ask, sipping your wine. Gilda takes large swigs of hers and she breathes deeply.

“Yeah. We became fast friends there. I’d always bailed her out when we went off somewhere or pulled pranks and sh- …stuff.” She says, catching herself. “We got closer as we got older. We’re lovers.”

“Oh? So you two are close. Good for you. “ You say, placing some warmth in your voice to support her. She nods and gulps down the rest, setting the glass on a nearby table.

>You go retrieve the bottle and fill it back up. She glances at you, a half-angry, half-thankful look on her features as she takes the glass and drinks some more. This goes on about an hour before she asks to retire to her room. You nod, confident in your ability to feed yourself. You tell her she’s free to eat a reasonable amount from the kitchen.

>You float about until it’s 10-ish. You ate a sandwich and some leftover rice. You barely saw Gilda after she retired earllier. You decided to go check on her. You slowly peek through the crack in the door and see her lying on the bed, a laptop open. You look her over, as she was wearing some pajama pants and a shirt. She’s talking to it and you her someone talk back.

>You quiet your breathing to listen in on the conversation.

“…All I’m sayin is, you kinda wrecked his shit.” Gilda mutters.

“It was an accident, damnit! He didn’t need to take it that damn far!” The voice shouts back. You can guess that’s Rainbow Dash.

“I guess… he seems like he’s lonely or depressed or some shit, though.” Gilda says, shrugging.”Guy drinks a fuckin LOT. I cleaned 20 bottles from his room today…”

“Damn! I almost feel sorry for him… Nah, not really. He’s prolly that way by choice, Gil.”

“Whatever… Why didn’t you show up? You said that you’d definitely get me off the hook.” Gilda asks, sounding more awake.

“I told ya, Gil. The exams were pushed back and I have to train for them! I can’t be around his place… I might end
up socking his ass, anyway.”

“So I have to…? Thanks a lot, Dash.” She huffs, and lays her head down.

“Hey, it’s not like that! Besides, you’re gonna get paid now, right? I’d come sooner if I knew he’d pay me, heh? So, anyway…”

>You pull your head away from her door and head to your room. She’s doubting her. And seeing things in your favor.  Which is good.  Your influence has worked just enough to make her begin to doubt her friend. You open your door and look back at Gilda’s room.

It’s only a matter of time…

>Day 2 End…


>You arise early to the sound of rock music playing. Loudly. You open your door and glare death beams at Gilda’s door.
>You toss on some clothes and head to her door, knocking on it. To your surprise, it opens easily. Her laptop is just sitting there, blasting music. She’s not even in the room!

>Irritated, you walk in and turn the music down from 89 to 45. There. That ought to not kill your ears and make your brain commit suicide.

>You turn and walk towards the door, rubbing your eyes from the sudden awakening. You bump into something warm and wet. You freeze and step to the side.

“I’ll take it you ain’t a fan of my music.” Gilda strides past you, wrapped in a towel and over to her suitcase.

>You take your fists from his eyes and shoot a glance her way. She looks back at you, the towel covering most of
her body.

“Well. I’m sure most sensible people would have taken the laptop with them to not make such noise… And it’s early enough to catch the worm before the bird, damnit!” You grumble, striding out and ready to start and roll through your routine.

>The usual: Shower, bathroom, get papers, make coffee, get dressed.

>You falter a bit, knowing Gilda will show up in her maid outfit and ask what needs to be done. You think hard.

>Gilda comes through the doors from your wing, her hair in a ponytail.  You see her eyes shine a fierce determination.

“Gilda, today… I think we need to clean.” You state, huffing dejectedly.

>She blinks and stares at you.

“We? As in, you’re actually going to do something?” She asks, a look of pure interest on her face.

“Yes. We. I’m going to clean the attic, and you can clean the basement.  Afterwards, we can head out to the Garden and pool after.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see ya at lunch. Try not to hurt yourself or anything,”Master.” You could see the snideness in her face as she turned and headed to the kitchen, not even bothering to ask you where it was.

>You headed for the stairs, up to the second floor. Which was full of guest rooms.  Yes, you could’ve stuck her way up here instead, but then this would be no fun at all. You headed up to the attic and strode in.

>There were an assortment of boxes and things off to one corner. The rest of it was set up as an observatory. A giant telescope you brought and put together sat on its stand was the centerpiece, and chairs and couches were placed somewhat far away from it, with your recliner sitting near it. A TV sat on a table near it, along with a mini-fridge and that was about it.

>When you said you’d clean the attic, you didn’t mention that it was practically clean already. You take a rag and go over the TV screen and telescope lens.

>There. Clean.

>You sit down and flick on the Ponyville news and gaze down on different areas of Ponyville. This is the only way you have some inkling to what’s going on most of the time.

>You watch a few events occur: A pale girl with long pink hair cruise into a restaurant, A woman with mint green hair with a “Ponies: They Live” shirt on, Mrs. Cake, the baker, leading two men into the bakery from the back, and other things.

>You burn an hour and a half this way, not even minding the news as much as getting the weather for this afternoon. Sunny.

>You stand and stretch, being in that position tiring you out. Still, time to see what Gilda was up to.

>You go downstairs, and smell the scent of Pizza. You remember you had some frozen ones in the freezer, and she must’ve warmed up one of those.

>You walk towards the kitchen, sniffing expectantly. Yep. That’s pizza, alright. You walk in and see Gilda typing on her laptop.

“So, you need the basement and cleaned up well, I assume?” You ask, walking past her to get to the fridge.

“Yeah. It was a wreck down there, though.” She responds, looking up at you. “You have a lot of stuff down there. Was it all in the house?”

“Yes. I hope the bigger items didn’t give you any trouble?” You ask.
“I moved the piano to the other side of the place. It was in the way. Sorry.”

>You nod, reaching into the fridge and grabbing the orange juice. You pour yourself a glass and take a sip. Gilda continues typing, her face plain. She stops and stands to check on the pizza and then goes right back to typing. You remain quiet during this, until finally, curiosity gets the better of you.

“What are you typing, miss Gilda?” You ask, moving over to her side. You see a word document open, and some lines typed.

“Trying to type, anyway… I suck at it. So I thought I’d practice a bit while we waited on the pizza.” She says, shrugging and standing up to get the pizza.

>You see that she has a flashing tab with the name “R41nb0w-D4sh” on it. You flick your eyes to her and back. Huh. Wonder what they could be talking about that she’d have to lie to you about it?

>Gilda sets the pizza on the table and begins to slice it with a knife. You take a seat and pour yourself another glass of orange juice.  You offer her some and she accepts, placing it next to the computer.

>After she serves you, you both immediately begin to talk about a lot of things: Your history, family members, her pay, how you ended up here, etc. She constantly types fast during the downtimes, a look of fear or anger crossing her features briefly before calming back down.

“For someone who can’t type, you sure clack away at that keyboard fast.”

>She pauses, flicking her eyes over at you.

“Let’s just say I know how to say what I need to.” She says, her voice low.

>you smirk and continue eating. You’re not slow.

>After finishing your meal, you stand and inform Gilda you’ll handle the garden and she can handle the pool after
she’s finished with her meal and typing.  You go out and look around. This place actually needs work.

>You sweep the marble stone pathways, taking the time to get the dirt up and wash the marble off with the hose. You take the time to water the plants, as well. You swipe the sweat off of your brow and turn the hose off. You remove your shirt and pause.

>You feel eyes. And you know exactly who they belong to. You tug off your shirt slower, stretching and twisting your abs and back. You hear a very low, very quiet “Unh.” from the kitchen. You finish and turn to look her in the eyes, but she’s gone. You chuckle. She’s probably not even playing for the other team.

>You finish up and go out to help her with the pool. She’s currently cleaning it out, with the pool cleaner. You scope her form, the muscles on her tan complexion shifting with each movement, the sweat dripping from her face accentuating her curves as well as her ridges…

>You get an idea. A nasty idea, but an idea, nonetheless. You walk around the pool and pick up a pool cleaner yourself, and help her. She looks up at you and quickly continues with her work. She’s ashamed of herself for looking at you. You smirk. This’ll make your idea that much sweeter.

>You finish and hit the filtration system. The pool’s water was being cleaned and replaced. Perfect.

>While walking past Gilda, you accidently slip and knock her into the pool. Whoops.

>You immediately break down into laughter as she begins to panic and swim to the other side. You retreat to the kitchen as you hear her scream in rage.

 “YOU SONOFABITCH! WAIT TILL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!”

>This just makes you laugh, as she’s probably too soaked to really run. You leave the kitchen as you decide to retreat to your room for the rest of the-

>You hear the door slam open. You also hear quick footsteps. You begin to run, knowing that scolding her is not an option right now. You duck into the hallway as you hear another door slam open. Shit.

>Shitshitshitshitshit-  That was the door behind you!

>You turn and are immediately tackled to the ground by her. You don’t get a chance to brace for anything, as it all happens at once: Gilda’s wet form on top of your shirtless chest, the feel of her hands around your neck, the sensation of being shaken, the heat coming off her crotch and her face, her frantic. You grit your teeth, something stirring. You open your eyes to a flurry of movement and infuriated amber eyes.

>You feel some kind up primal urge rise within you. You can’t explain it, but you suddenly feel a surge of adrenaline rush through you.  You wait until she pulls upward and then you strike. You slam your hands into her thighs, a grunt coming from your throat. She screams in shock, but you don’t let it get far. You push her down onto the carpet and attack her tongue with yours, those soft tan lips frozen in either pain or awe. You growl, feeling yourself getting turned on at being on top of her, between her and forcefully kissing her.

>You suddenly pull back, not sure what the hell that was. Gilda rises onto her elbows and stares at you, amazed. You look back and feel amazed yourself: This is a strong-ass woman we’re talking about, here. To lift and slam her off of you and begin kissing her meant you overpowered her.

“Wh-what the FUCK was that!?” She gasps, shuddering from the contact or the passion behind it.

“I…I don’t know.” You eye her suspiciously and see some more moisture. It’s from between her legs, and it’s noticeable against her already wet outfit.

>A long pause made the entire ordeal odder. She slowly got to her feet, and stood there. The air was tense and you decided it’d be best to remove yourself from the area.

“Gilda…” Your normally cold voice faltering for a second. “You should go dry off and put that into the dryer. Goodnight.” You say, turning for your room.

>You speed down the corridor to your room and close it. You swear you hear an “Unf” as you leave. You wouldn’t doubt it. For now, you’re going to relax.

>An hour later, you hear yelling. Oh, boy. The hell’s going on now?

>You pull yourself out of bed and walk into the corridor. You hear swearing and heated banter coming from Gilda’s
room.

“Fucking hell, Dash! Why?!” Gilda screeches. “I thought WE were together!”

“It meant NOTHING! It just fucking happened!” Ugh. Her voice.

“Like HELL it did! Celestia dammit, you PLANNED it to happen, huh? That why you’ve been blowing me off!? TO GET
FUCKING LAID WITH A WONDERBOLT!?” Gilda roars, her voice peaking.

“UGH! Look, it was just a friendly meeting at a bar! I didn’t think about it!” Dash replies.

>You’re smiling. You shouldn’t be, but you’re smiling. This is exactly what you needed. And you didn’t have to intervene.

>”I TALKED to earlier. YOU SAID you’d be here. WHERE THE FUCK DID THE BAR COME IN AT, DASH!?” Gilda inquires.

>You look through the door. Gilda is glaring at her laptop screen, a tanktop and… mmm. Those panties. You wanted
to clench the edge of them with your teeth and pull them down to get at her sweet honeypot…

“I-I told you I wouldn’t be able to make it…” Dash stammered.

“You didn’t say A GODDAMN WOR- Fuck it. Done.” Gilda said, slouching on the bed.

“Wha? Gilda, what do you mean, “do-“ She was cut off by Gilda slamming the laptop shut.

>Your smile turns into a smirk. Yes. That “click” the laptop made was the sound was the sound of opportunity. You can hear sniffling. You decide to press your luck. You knock on the door and say in a concerned voice:

“Gilda? Are you okay? I heard yelling.”

“I-I’m fine! Sorry about t-the noooise…” She drags it, trying not to cry.

>You open the door and tilt your head. You put on your most sympathetic face and look at her.

>She’s curled up, latching onto a pillow. You slowly step over to her side, the trembling getting louder and more pronounced.

“Gilda…? You want to tell me what’s wrong…?” You ask, leaning down towards her a bit.

“That Biiiiiiitch….” She whines into her pillow, low and soft. You almost didn’t hear it.

>You sit on the edge of her bed and place a hand on her. She flinches, curling up.

“You wanna talk about it…?” You ask, your voice a bit hopeful…

“I’m fiiiiiiiiii-huhhiiiiine.” She whines again, bringing her knees up.

>You stand and walk to the door, shooting a glance back.

“You know where to find me.” You say, and close her door.

>As you make your way back to the room, you’re plotting already.

>Dash has made a large error. A monumental fuck-up. She’s smashed Gilda’s shell, leaving her totally exposed. If there was any time to strike, it’d be now. You can’t wait until tomorrow.  You’ll take her and meld her to your
whims. Like you’re waited so long for…

>Day 3, end…


>You get up early, rolling out of bed and hitting the floor in your rush. You peek out of your room at Gilda’s.

>Soon.

>You gather your things for the shower and head to the bathroom, hearing something from Gilda’s room. You can’t really imagine what, though…

>You start your routine: Showering. As you wash, though, your body heats up in an unnatural way. You feel eyes darting over you, admiring you, or possibly craving you… You turn to the door and look. You can’t see well through the curtain, but you can tell that the door is cracked a bit. You finish your shower and go get dressed.

>You pause by Gilda’s room. You hear soft moans coming from the other side. You pause, feeling a responsive stir in your loins, but you continue to your room to get dressed. It wouldn’t do to be caught standing near her door in just your robe with a rapidly-increasing erection.

>You head to your room and sigh, switching into some casual clothes: A button-up and some slacks. There’s still a notable bulge, though. And by the looks of things, It’s not going away anytime soon. You decide to play the part of a voyeur before continuing on with the morning.

>You walk up to Gilda’s door, as you have the previous nights. You lean on her doorframe this time and reach down for your zipper. She’s still moaning, which means she either hasn’t stopped or she restarted. You slide open the door a bit so you can see her.

>She’s face down into a pillow, her hand in her panties. You can see her fingers working frantically under the cloth, the fabric transparent due to the fluids it’s been coated with. You see her sink her fingers into herself, her inner walls quivering as she can’t scratch the urge herself. She grunts as she begins to shake and move in response, hoping to reach further into herself by riding her fingers.

>The display makes you immediately hard, and you don’t waste a second, wrapping you fingers around your cock and stroking slowly. You attempt to match yourself with Gilda’s bounces, imagining how she would feel around you, her warm embrace holding you two together, wrapping its tightness around your member…

>Gilda suddenly murmurs and slides the panties down, allowing a clear look at her pussy. Her fingers still moved with vigor, the tan lips of her flesh being parted to show her pink flower and its juices. She began moving faster and harder, trying to get off desperately. You match her tempo, your cock twitching in response to both the sight and the stimulation. You feel yourself getting close, her position switching to her rolling onto her back and rubbing her clit as fast as she can.

“Ah! Oh fuck- Master!” She cries, her back arching as she convulses, her pussy dribbling fluids. She immediately collapses, her frame relaxed and laid bare on the bed. You finish also, the way she cried “Master” adding to it. Your breath seizes up as you splatter the nearby wall with your seed, a stream of white hitting the corner of the door frame. You breathe deeply, trying to conceal your presence… and your activity.

“Ahhh, shit… Shit. Dash didn’t do it… so HE did…? Shit man…” She breathed, her breaths short and focused. “What time is it…? Fuck, I gotta get dressed!” She said, and rolled out of bed to do so. You time yourself.

>As soon as she began running to the dresser, you ran down the corridor and to the kitchen. You began to make coffee and recompose yourself. You go scoop up the paper and come back, preparing to make your cup and hopefully breakfast. You see your cup sitting on the table already. You scan the room and you see something that makes your should-be spent dick jump.

>Gilda’s making breakfast. Eggs and bacon with toast, it seems. She’s focused on the task, a light pink tinting her cheeks. But that’s not what’s making you aroused.

>Her maid outfit shrank. You could see it hug each breast tightly and wrap around every detail of her body. You could clearly see her new black panties without her even bending over and her stockings hugged her comically tight.

“Gilda. I note that your uniform has shrunken.” You state, sitting down at the table and taking a nervous sip of coffee.

“Yeah. Didn’t plan on that, but it’s the only uniform I got.” She says, turning her head your direction.

>Your eyes pierce hers, you wanting to emanate that cold aura that you did the first few days she’s been here. She can see it, but you can tell she’s not intimidated by it. In fact, the way she breaks the contact by looking away tells you that she sees your interest.

“Go change.” You order, sipping your coffee and flipping open the paper. “After breakfast of course.”

>She turns and eyes you suspiciously. She’s not sure if you’re serious or not. You lower your paper and shoot her a blank glare.

“I doubt you can even BREATHE in that thing. It looks like it came from a lingerie shop at that size, and you should switch into something more comfortable. It isn’t lady-like to walk around in THAT.” You say.

>She focuses on what’s in the pan as if it was going to reveal the world’s secrets and the answer to immortality. She gains a small frown over the time, and by the time your breakfast is served, you see her scowling at you.

“You’re supposed to hate me. You’re supposed to be a dick and enjoy it when I’m knocked down and doing something humiliating. Why the hell you bein’ so soft?” She asks, sitting down with her plate still in hand.

>You think how to phrase this carefully. You scoop up some eggs onto your toast and take a bite. You look over at Gilda, a bored look in your eyes.

“Well. If you were going to work here, I’d have to accommodate you. I admit that my previous intentions toward you were hostile, but not because of you.” You explain.

“Then what?” She ask.

“Your friend. Who originally wrecked my home. You were the placeholder, so I felt that I could release my stress that way. But then… you placed your trust in her. And that made me feel so sorry for the way I acted, I wanted you to enjoy or at least gain something from your time here.

>Gilda stopped chewing her food and leaned in, listening.

“I grew fond of company… As you can tell, I was very lonely. I decided to be nice and pay you, make you welcome. I was really enjoying it. Then I heard the screaming last night, and I thought something was up. I come to check on you, and you’re balled up crying.”

“That…. That was because of Dash. She cheated on me. Said she didn’t even know we WERE a couple.” Gilda muttered bitterly, tilting down her head. “That’s why she never showed up to take my place.”
“To be honest, I didn’t want her to. I hate her. But you, on the other hand… I may have feelings for.”

>Gilda looks up at you, her eyes wide. You can tell she was flashing back to when she was under you in the hallway. They look astonished or afraid.

“So THAT was what THAT was?! Holy hell, man… How? Why do you even like me? I thought I wouldn’t be your type or somethin.” Gilda says, her eyes still focused on you as she eats a bit of eggs.

“YOU’RE the soft one here, Gilda.” You stay, standing with your mug.

“…The hell are you TALKING about?” She asks, incredulous to your claim.

“Trust me, Gilda. You showed me yourself, just as I showed you myself. Your tough girl act is nothing but a ruse.” You say. “From everything I’ve heard and seen, you’ve had it rough. So I actually admire you, putting on that brave face.”

>Gilda is silent. She’s biting her lip now, either in rage or fear.

“Last night made me realize that, Gilda. And it hurt me a lot to leave you in such a state. I don’t think I’ll be able to. So I have a proposition.” You polish off your mug and set it down. Causing her to focus those normally-ferocious amber eyes on yours. “I want you to be my maid, Gilda.”

>Gilda eyes widen in surprise, and then squint at you. You’re ready to shut down any resistance.

“What makes you think I’ll take the job? Especially after you called me soft?” She retorts, crossing her arms and legs.

“I’d say you are. You’re very caring about some things. You could’ve easily beaten the hell out of me for many things, but you didn’t. Why not, if not being soft?” You ask.

>Silence. You continue on, pressing your argument.

“You’re a pretty good maid, Gilda. And as you’re getting paid for this, I’d consider it a job that you’re good at and actually can do. Combine that with the pay and you’re basically set. You could live here, even. “ You suggest.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA. What the hell makes you think I’m going to live here? With YOU?” She asks, tilting her head.

“Your tongue, Gilda. And you aren’t exactly opposed to the thought of it, are you? I’ve got some evidence that could prove my point, but I’d rather let you mull it over. I’m not opposed to you, and you could have a good job and home right here.” You turn and walk away, reaching for your cigar case and your lighter.

>Gilda is staring at you intensely. You can read her face perfectly: “How does he know how I feel about him?”
“You’re not the quietest girl, Gilda. I can hear just fine.” You answer, and leave before she can react.

>You head to your study, where all this began. You grab a glass from the china cabinet and wipe it out with your shirt.

>You sit there for a few hours, your favorite recliner facing the windows, smoking your cigar, and pouring yourself drinks. Your mood sinks to a sort of flat, logical sense through this, you downing bottles of light champagne. You turn to the door, hoping that she’ll come in. You sigh when she doesn’t.

>She’s putting up resistance to it. But she obviously can’t. You targeted how she feels and what she needs.  You feel- no you KNOW- she has affection for you. She can’t deny that. She got off to you this morning instead of her …ex, you should say.

>After a while, you get up and make your way to the living room. You note that the TV’s on. You walk over to the side of the couch and flop onto

“Ow! The hell?!”

>Whoops. You just flopped onto Gilda, who was on the couch.

>You support yourself with an arm and look down at her. She’s wearing a tanktop and some high cut jean shorts.

>You stare longer than you should, but you don’t dare to move until Gila clears her throat.

>You hop off of the couch and motion for her to do the same. She slowly gets up, not sure of what you’re thinking.
You flop onto the couch on your back and then stare at her expectantly.

“Uh? What, you think I’m going to lay on you? Pff.” Gilda scoffs, and turns to move to another chair.

“You had no problem being on top of me before.” The words escaping your lips before you had a chance to think.

>She turns, her face red. You can’t tell if that was anger or embarrassment.

“That was because you pushed me into the pool, you jerk!” She spat.

“Still counts and still stands. C’mon. Tell me what you’ve been doing all day.” You pat your stomach.

>Surprisingly, she sighs and actually does it. You were just going to have banter with her and hope that she just tells you what she’s chosen to do. Not like it wasn’t multiple choice, anyway.

>She slowly moves her legs between yours and begins lowering her body onto you. You feel the warmth radiate as she comes into contact with your chest. She shoots you a dirty look before resting her head on your chest. Her hands are on ether size of your chest, and you can feel them tugging at the fabric.

“See? You don’t mind me that much. You could’ve just-“ You begin, but she cuts you off.

“Oh, shut up, you wiseass…” She says and you do.

>It’s her turn to be surprised. But she continues to talk, anyway.

“I’ve just been sitting around thinking and drinking the beer that’s in the fridge. You said a lot of things that made sense back there. Yeah, I DO need a good paying job. Yeah, I DO enjoy hanging around this place..  And yeah, I can say that I DON’T mind you at all, actually. In fact, you’re kinda… hot. There, I said it.”

>You open your eyes a bit more and she shoots you another look. You didn’t expect that she’d be so forward… but that’s probably the alcohol in both of you.

“Oh. So with that in mind… you’ll accept the job? It comes with a lot of benefits, too, you know…” You say, turning and fixing your eyes on the TV.

“That include your dick?” She says, the question hitting you like a brick from behind.

“W-wh-what?” You stammer, turning your head and attempting to sit up.

>Gilda climbs to your chest and sits on it. She’s looking down at you with a smirk on her face.

“It’s not like I can’t feel it, dude. You tellin’ me you didn’t notice? …Or were you just trying to ignore it?”

>You sit up quickly, your hands flying to Gilda’s back to make sure she didn’t fall. She takes it as something else and her smirk gets bigger.

“Whoa there, man. I know you… feel the same about me too… You sure you wanna go? Right here? On the couch?” She asks, suddenly bouncing on your lap.

>You feel that twinge come back as she bounces, her breasts obscuring your vision and judgment. You shake your head, but she places her hand on your neck and leans forward, her breath feeling warm on your ear.

“C’mon. Do what you did in that hallway… And don’t stop, this time…” She purrs, her hands unbuttoning your shirt and rubbing at your chest.

>You were sure that this was the alcohol in both of you, but you couldn’t take anymore of this teasing and slid your hands under her tanktop, grabbing and kneading her breasts. You push her back as you take your place over her, her hands suddenly flying to your back.

“You want to be mine?” You ask, your voice deepened by your need and passion.

>You don’t wait for a response, your hand already stripping and tugging at her pants.  You make sure you’ve hooked her panties as well and yank them off in a fluid motion, tossing them to the floor… You immediately work on freeing yourself as you use your right hand to lift her shirt and suck on her nipple,  your tongue wrapping around it as you continue on.

“Ah! Holy fuck! S-slow down a b- Nnh!” Gilda tries to protest, but you don’t listen.

>You finally free yourself and shove your fingers into Gilda, testing her. Her slick walls twitch and close in on your fingers as they push in and out. She moans loudly, her hands gripping your shirt and tugging it off in the process. You silence her as you do before, shoving your tongue down her throat and wrapping it around hers. She writhes under you, moaning into your mouth as you position yourself against her wet lips. You pull away for a split second and look her in the eyes, wild with lust.

“ Gilda. You are MINE.” You growl, and thrust into her hard, going balls deep. You hear her scream your title just as before, with new connotation: She’s yours. And she fucking knows it.

>You begin slamming your hips against those soft, tan thighs, taking in each and every quiver, every whimper, every ridge of Gilda’s womanhood. You grit your teeth as you rut her like an animal, her hands clawing at your back in desperate need. She wraps her legs around you in an attempt to pull you deeper, and you deliver a slap to her ass so vicious she nearly breaks. You give her another as you slam against her tightening hole, her ass jiggling so noticeably that it arouses you even further.

“Unh! Unngh! Oh go- F-f-f-fuck! I’m gonna-“ She screams, her nails digging into your flesh as you speed up, the slapping noise from your thighs meeting hers growing louder.

>You feel yourself ready to explode, and you lean in close to her neck as you near it. You ungrit your teeth and bite into her shoulder, unable to contain the need for release. She screams louder than any other time and her walls grip your shaft and milk you as you burst inside of her. You groan through your teeth, your cock twitching as it fires a myriad of shots into her pussy.

>You feel your body relax as you remove your teeth from her shoulder. You panic and look at Gilda’s face. She looks dazed, her eyes rolled back and her tongue out. You blink, not sure of what you just did to her…

>Your best guess would be that you just fucked her silly.
“Hhhh….Hhhhh…Holy sh…Shit…” She breathes, her grip loosening.

>You take this opportunity to fall backwards and conk out, tired from the whole thing. You smile before you doze
off, knowing that you weren’t kidding about what you said to her:

>She was yours.

Day 4, end…


>You woke up, your body feeling heavy. You sit up, expecting to see Gilda crashed on the couch with you.

>you were in your bed, in your room. How the hell did you end  up here…? There’s only one answer. It’s out there, but an answer, nonetheless.

>Gilda picked you up and carried you all the way to your room.

>Amazing, considered you made her make one of those “seriously gone” faces when you two did it.

>You slide out of bed, and you stood. You felt as if you were going to topple over at any second. You grabbed your robe and sauntered out to the bathroom. You had no idea what time it was, but you were going to take a shower, regardless.

>You swing the door open and it hits the wall. You step into the bathroom and hear the water running. You close the door slowly, your eyes focused on the source of the noise. You can see a figure with light brown skin already in the shower. You strip and slide in behind them, wrapping your arms around their waist and leaning on them.  You close your eyes and let the water cascade around the both of you.

“Hey.” You say softly, your energy still remarkably low as you put most of your weight onto her.

“Shit, man. Any louder I thought the damn place was being raided...” She grumbles back.

“Damn, I’m tired. How are we, day?” You ask, as you lean on her, looking her over in full detail.

“Fine. Sore, but fine.” She states, grabbing her own bottle of soap and pouring it onto her hands.

> You scoop some from them and begin soaping her down, rubbing your hands over each part of her body and taking your time. She stifles a few moans and sighs, placing her hands on the wall and letting your hands cover her body in some lavender suds. You pay extra attention to her breasts and her rear, making sure to clean them thoroughly.

>You grab the shower head and clean her off, pausing to admire your handiwork. You note that you actually left a serious bite mark on her shoulder. You let the water hit it, and she relaxes under the soothing water.

“You did that, you jackass… Not that I’m really complaining.” She cooes, taking your bottle of soap and pouring some into her hands.

“You’re not…?” You ask, amazed she’s not trying to bite your head off over it.

“Nah man. I actually got off on that. Ain’t that somethin’?” She whispers into your ear she begins to lather your body with your soap. She carefully goes over each part of you, her hands gliding over you antagonizingly slow. You begin to hold onto her as you feel yourself slowly getting stiff.

“What…? Oh. I guess I should clean this too…” She teases as she rests her head on your chest.

>She flicks her beautiful eyes up into yours, a teasing look crossing her features as she begins to stroke and gropes your length and your sack as well. You immediately place your hand on her head and look at her. Her eyes widen as she stares into your eyes and stops.

“You should stop unless you want to get rough here.” You breathe, your grip tightening on her head.

>She gives them a few more strokes and then grabs the showerhead, washing all the soap off of you. She doesn’t move herself until she’s done.

“There…. You’ll be able to handle yourself and getting dressed without clocking the hell out of yourself?” Gilda asks, noticing you leaning against the wall.

>You nod and pat her on the head, smirking. She nods and steps out, grabbing her towel and leaving the door open. You walk out, feeling a bit better.

>You go through the morning routine. Get dressed, paper, coffee, food.

>Gilda’s wearing that maid outfit again. You stare at her, half-amused, half-annoyed. You know it’s your fault. That’s the only one you had in storage. You and her converse with each other about getting her a new one. A custom-made one with special colors. Something silver with dark brown and some fur on the sleeves and edge of the dress. You agree to have a few of them around. You also go over the duties she’ll help you with.

>All the while, she’s nodding with a frown on her face. You give her a cold look and ask her if she remembers who does she belong to.

“You. Master.” She nods, looking away to the side.

>You smirk and chuckle a bit, and she giggles as well.

>She walks around cleaning and lifting things with a stoic attitude. You walk around with her, constantly praising her and even asking if she’d like a accessory. She calmly stated she’d like a studded collar with her name on it. You just laughed and nodded. She still wanted to be a tough girl.

>But at least she was your tough girl.

>During lunch…

>You and Gilda both enjoyed a nice lunch. It was just another pizza you had in the fridge, but it was satisfying anyway.

>You made progress on your work, Gilda cleaned the house. It seemed like things were already settling into a regular thing.

>You take a break and watch some TV. Gilda does the same.

>You hear a knock at the door and look confused. You get up to answer it, but Gilda hops up and insists on her getting it. You flop back down and let her answer it. What you hear is less than relaxing.

“Gilda! …Gilda?! What the hell are you wearing?!” A tomboyish voice yells.

>You roll your eyes in annoyance. Oh boy, here we fucking go. You stand up off the couch and head to the door.

“My uniform, Dash.” Gilda responds, crossing her arms and using a slightly annoyed tone.

>Unfortunately, Dash takes this as your doing and storms past her and towards you.

“Who the hell do you think you are, making her wear something slutty like that!? I oughta-“

>You open your mouth to say something, but something happens before you can get a word out. Something that makes you smile.

>Gilda grabs Rainbow Dash’s hair and yanks her backwards, causing her to fall to the ground. She then takes her place by your side.

“OW! GILDA! The fuck was that for!?” Dash screams, her hands flying to her head as she stands up.

“Watch it.” Gilda snaps.

“What? Gilda, what the hell is WRONG with you!? I’m your friend!” She starts, but something happens that makes this moment oh-so-sweeter.

>Gilda laughs. She laughs hard and leans on you. You chuckle as well, shaking your head at this broad’s thought process.

“You…You think… Haha… That I’M your FRIEND?” Gilda says, her hand on her stomach. “Bitch, PLEASE!”

>Rainslow’s face shows a clear look of shock. She obviously didn’t expect this. You begin nodding, your arms folded and face bright.

“I wasn’t your FRIEND. I was your SCAPEGOAT.” Gilda suddenly snapped, her voice becoming serious. “ The hell would be ever be friends for?!”

>Dash began to stammer, her eyes wide and her arms shaking.

“Gilda… I-It’s not like that, I-“ She starts, but is unable to finish it due to the sudden movement from Gilda.

>Gilda crosses the room and stands tall in front of her, her arms still folded and face filled with anger.

“The only reason I’m even WEARING this maid outfit is because you fucking ditched me here! And not only that, you didn’t come and visit me. Didn’t come and fucking help. Didn’t come and do your FUCKING. JOB.”

>Dash backs up, hurt by the words Gilda spoke. She looked on the verge of tears.

“I-I’m so-… I-I-I’m-“ She sobbed, but Gilda continued, her voice rising.

“Not only that, but all that fucking around with me and we’re NOT lovers? And you found it perfectly okay to go to a bar and drink so you could FUCK A WONDERBOLT instead of coming to take over. You’re sorry? Oh. You’re sorry, alright.”

>Gilda reared back and delivered the most painful sounding slap you’ve possibly heard. The only thing that made it better was the chorus of “Daaaaaaaaamn!” in the background from the movie you were watching.

“You’re a sorry excuse for LOYALTY.” Gilda spat, and suddenly reached for her uniform’s sleeve.

>She pulled it down and showed the now-crying Rainbow Dash the bite mark.

“See this? It means I’m not your bitch anymore. I belong to Master Anon, now.” She states, stepping backwards toward you.  “We’re through, Dash. Get over it.”

>You walk towards the emotionally broken girl and sigh.

“Well. Miss Rainbow Dash? You’re officially excused from having to pay me back for the damages. I guess we’ll be seeing you around.” You say, gently touching her shoulder and guiding her to the door.

>She didn’t respond. Her cries grew only sadder and fierce, and she broke away from you and bolted out the door. You slowly close it and place your hand on your head. You feel two hands wrap themselves around your waist.

“Hey.” A sultry voice whispers.

“Damn, Gilda. I couldnt’ve said it better.” You mutter.

>You’re suddenly lifted, causing you to squeal like a bitch as she sets you on the couch. She giggles and plops down in your lap.

“The past is the past. Wanna finish watching the movie, Master?” She says, leaning back and wrapping her arms around your neck.

>You lean back, thinking about what just happened and the ramifications of it. Gilda just broke Dash for you. While not being able to do that yourself, watching her do it was definitely more entertaining.  Gilda is now your servant. Which is nice, considering you and her continue to enjoy each other’s company. Rainbow Dash is presumably crying like a bitch to her friends, who you doubt will help her after what she did.

>You nod and smile.

“Yeah. But first, Gilda… Why don’t you go fetch us that big bottle of whiskey out of the fridge?” You ask, closing your eyes.

“Right away, Master.” She replies, hopping up and heading to the kitchen.

>You smile and shed a tear of happiness.

>Could life get any better than this?

>Day 5, end…

>Fin.