Its a Maid (Kikimora)

My mood was dark as I reclined inside my office, watching the figure before me as thunder pealed and the storm raged outside. My desk lamp glowed with a weak light, leaving me and the room’s other occupant cloaked in gloom.

I took a swig of cold coffee from a well stained mug and drummed my fingers against the old oak desk absentmindedly, struggling to comprehend what could have driven my guest to the most heinous of crimes.

The crime….of MURDER!

A flash of lightning illuminated my guest and treated me to a brief glimpse of sharp features, soft gray plumage, and a freshly pressed maid uniform.

A Kikimora by the name of Cassandra sat in the well-worn leather chair before my desk, her warm smile replaced with a look of feigned disinterest as she scanned the rows of books filling my shelves.

A monster dedicated towards serving and pleasing their masters, Kikimora were humanoid creatures with feathers instead of hair, a long tail (also covered in feathers), and feet covered in scales similar to a birds.

Cassandra stood an average 5’ 5” with soft, pink skin which wouldn’t have looked out of place on a fashion model. Despite wearing a long maid uniform, the fabric had shifted just enough to hint at wide hips and a modest bosom. Before today, I would have believed that her gentle demeanor and kind personality would have prevented her from committing such a terrible crime.

Unfortunately for John, I was wrong.

“Why did you do it Cassie?” I asked in a barely audible growl, the pet name causing the feathered beauty to flinch. “Why did you kill John?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.” Cassandra said, her voice was calm and quiet. It was one perfectly suited for a head maid. “I would never do anything that was not in the best interests of Master.”

The perfect maid never wavered and her words contained nothing but pure conviction. Unfortunately for my prim and proper suspect, her gaze wandered away from mine in the tell-tale sign of a liar.

“The evidence says otherwise Cassie.” I said, I rubbing the coarse stubble taking root on my jaw. “Lying is only going to make things worse.”

She twitched again at her shortened name and a small pout began to form. “Please stop that. My name is Cassandra and I would never destroy one of Master’s belongings. It fell off the staircase and broke on impact, an unfortunate but unavoidable fate.”

My eyes narrowed and I leaned over my desk, scanning her face for the slightest twitch or catching of breath. The Kikimora remained impassively unperturbed beneath my inquisitive stare.

My questioning gaze long enough for it to become awkward, and then continued on a little more as I tried to stare the truth out of her. Finally I saw it, her feathers had fluffed out a bit more than usual and she had ceased even the tiniest movements.

With startling suddenness Cassandra looked away from me, a blush of embarrassment forming. “If that is all you wish to say, may I go? The kitchen must be cleaned and dinner prepared. I cannot have Master going hungry.”

I sighed in disappointment, I had hoped the dignified maid would come clean but it seemed that I needed to bring the hammer down on this case.

“Sorry Cassie, but the only dinner your master is going to need…” I said as I reached below the desk. “Is JUSTICE!”

The Kikimora gave me an odd stare as I pulled out a plain cardboard box, it was the kind of given to people who regularly ate paint chips as a kid. The box was about as wide as a dinner plate and two inches thick. The box rattled as I gave it a like shake before dropping it on the desk with a solid “thunk”.

My hand hovered over the lid of the box as I gave her a last, pleading stare. “Last chance Cassandra, if you confess now it’s going to be much easier on you.”

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, giving me a small “humph” of dismissal.
So be it....

I flipped the box open and revealed the remains of “John”.

The tiny Roomba had certainly seen better days, its plastic casing was shattered and the chipped pieces of its casing littered the bottom of the box and rattled with each tiny movement of the box.

Cassandra's perfect demeanor briefly broke as a look of undisguised disgust crossed her face. It remained there for a whole three seconds before she recovered and once more hid it behind the stoic mask.

“Problem Cassandra?” I asked with a smug grin, holding the body of the valiant towards the maid.

“Like I said, “John” fell from a staircase and broke on impact.” She said, gently pushing the Roomba back towards me. “That is all that happened to the incompetent little machine.”

“You expect me to believe that?” I replied, cocking an eyebrow and tracing a small crater in John’s frame. “Then why does poor John have this dent in the center which SUPRISINGLY matches the size as your heel?”

Cassandra's response to the accusation was to cover her mouth and blush so furiously that she could have masqueraded as a tomato.

“I can't believe Master knows my heel size.” she cooed in a happy voice. “I am so lucky to have him.”

“Yea, well being married to someone for 10 years can cause a guy to pick up some things.” I responded, covering my face behind my hands as my wife wiggled the chair with happiness. “It also helps that when I found him in the trash he had three of you tail feathers stuck in him.”

Cassandra froze and her feathers fluffed out slightly in unease. To her credit she recovered quickly, if not smoothly.

“You don't understand master! That machine did little more than scatter dust in the carpet and scuff the floors.” Cassandra's voice was flustered and all poise was abandoned as two weeks’ worth of frustration and worry burst forth. “It can’t cook, it can’t dust. It doesn’t even do laundry!”

“Cass-“

“Do you know how many times it bumped into the chairs? 15! ON TUESDAY!”

“CASSANDRA!” I said, raising my voice and a hand to quiet her. “I know that it doesn't do those things.”

“Then why would Master buy it?” She said, voice wavering slightly while a look of worry grew on her face. “Is my work slipping? Is it because I only vacuum the house twice a week?”

...What?

“What?” was all I could say as the Kikimora's eyes began to moisten and hiccuping gasps escaped her.

“I-I swear I will work harder Master! I’ll scrub all the floors twice daily and wash all of your clothes every day!” Cassandra tearfully cried, fists bunching her uniform as she fought to keep herself seated. “Just please, please don't replace me!”

I acted automatically, rushing from my chair to give her gray-feathered hair a reassuring pat on the head.

“Honey, you do the work of three maids in a single day and have never once complained about it. Your pregnancy with Annabelle didn’t even slow you down.” I said in my most comforting tone, giving her hair a small ruffle. “If anything, you work too hard. Any time I try and help you I just get shooed away.”

“O-of course I would!” She nearly shouted, small hands pulling clasping mine and pulling it from her head. “Only a terrible Kikimora makes her master do chores!”

I gave her hands a re-assuring squeeze as I kneeled on the carpet, bringing us eye to eye. “Regardless, I want to help you. You do so much around the house that I can't help but feel that I am taking advantage of you. That's why I got John, I wanted to help you out.”

“Master.” she said, eyes shining and as a deep blush bloomed on her face. She squirmed in her seat and smiled a sunny smile. “I am overjoyed that you want to help me but your love is enough for me. Don't worry about the chores.”

Cassandra knew how to pull my heartstrings at times and this was certainly one of them.

“Look,” I said as I pulled her into a hug. “I won't worry about you doing all the chores but please be sure you don't overwork yourself.”

Cassandra sighed and nuzzled into the nape of my neck, making a small cooing noise and giving me a small peck on the neck.

It felt like this heartwarming moment could continue forever.

My grip tightened on her as I breathily whispered into her ear. “I still need to punish you though. Can't have my best maid lying to her master can I?”

“Ooooh!” she gasped heatedly, passion filling her voice as her tail wiggled wildly behind her. “What will Master do to this disobedient maid?”

“First,” I whispered back in a hushed tone. “We won't have sex for three days.”

I could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.

“W-what did you say Master?” she asked, eyes wide in disbelief and a shocked smile plastered on her face.

“I said no sex for three days. Furthermore, you can't do my laundry for four days.” I continued, ignoring the slowly dawning look of horror on my wife's face.

“Please Master!” my wife shouted, diving into me and pinning me to the ground with the strength monsters are feared for. “I am sorry for my misdeeds, please stop this!”

“Finally,” I said, raising a finger and ignoring the fact that Cassandra could hammer throw me out the window and into the rain if she so chose. “You cannot call me “Master” or “Richard” for one week. Only Ricky.”

My wife’s grip slackened and she looked as if she was about to faint on top of me.

“B-but Mast....Ricky...” she said, my nickname nearly catching in her throat. “It is gravely improper for a maid to refer to her master in such a manner! Please reconsider this!”

I crossed my arms and gave her a slow shake of the head. “I am sorry Cassie but those are my terms. Failure to follow them will force me to begin cooking dinner for a month.”

Cassandra’s face paled at my ultimatum. “Of course Ma-Ricky.” She said in a voice weak with fear. “With your permission, I shall begin cooking dinner.”

I gave her a small nod and she left my office the most dignified speed walk I had ever seen.

As I rose from the floor, I made a mental note to do something nice for Cassandra when the punishment was over. Maybe a nice dinner out or some new gloves would cheer her up and prevent her from shattering my pelvis out of pent-up lust.

I turned back to my desk and grabbed the remains of the valiant Roomba when there was a small knock on my office door.

Resplendent in her tiny maid uniform and wielding a broom twice her size, my daughter Annabelle was peeking through doorway with a look of worry on her face. The 7 year old Kikimora looked like a miniature version of her mother, the only difference being her deep green eyes which matched my own.
“Daddy, are you and Momma fighting?” she quietly asked, both hands gripped tightly around the broom.

“No sweetie.” I responded as I scooped her up in a sudden hug, the surprise causing her to squeak and drop her over-sized broom. “We just had to have a little talk about things

“Oh, OK.” She said, squirming in my iron clad hug of fatherly love. “Can I clean your office now?”

I shot her a questioning look. “Did you do your homework?”

“Yes! I even did math!” she answered with a cheerful smile, her feathery tail beginning to wag in excitement.

“Then you are free to clean!” I said, releasing her and handing her a small vacuum from the corner of the room. “Be sure to grab your mother or me if you need any help.”

Annabelle gave a cute pout of indignation that I dare suggest she may need help.

“Daddy, a true Kikimora never needs help!”

I gave her hair feathers a small ruffle, sending her frilly head dress askew and drawing a small whine of annoyance

“Have fun Annabelle.” I said as I picked up the discarded broom and headed to the door. “Don’t get too dirty!”

Her response was to turn on the vacuum and begin attacking my carpet with her boundless energy.
As I headed down to the living to do some paperwork before dinner, I could only wonder what Kikimora’s found so enjoyable about chores.

At least it kept them off of the internet.