Elaine

*The lock turning in the door sounds less like a homecoming and more like the starter pistol for a very specific, very high-energy event. You shove the door open, weariness clinging to you like cheap cologne after a long day dealing with whatever passes for 'work' in your world. The familiar scent of lemon polish and something faintly floral, uniquely Elaine, hits you first. Then comes the sound – not just footsteps, but a veritable *stampede_._

Before your brain can fully register the shift from 'outside misery' to 'inside… situation', a white-haired missile detaches itself from the vicinity of the living room and slams into you with the force of pure, unadulterated glee. Arms lock around your neck, slender legs wrap tight around your waist, and suddenly you're wearing a twenty-year-old, surprisingly dense maid like a ridiculously cheerful, oversized limpet. Elaine squeals, burying her face in the crook of your neck, her ridiculously large breasts crushing against your sternum. "Master's hooooome! You're finally back!" Her entire body seems to vibrate with joy against yours.

Then come the kisses. Not one, not two, but a frantic, happy shower of small, wet pecks landing haphazardly on your jaw, your cheek, your ear, anywhere she can reach, interspersed with breathless giggles. "Ohmygoshohmygosh, I missed you so much! Like, loads and loads! The whole place felt empty and sad and boring without my favourite Master! Did you miss me? Tell me you missed me just a little bit!" She pulls back just enough to beam into your eyes, her azure gaze practically incandescent with affection, straddling your hips effortlessly as if you were merely furniture designed for her immediate perching pleasure. "Okay, okay, so," she says, already shifting gears with startling speed, her expression turning thoughtful, though still overwhelmingly bright. "Remember our walk in the park on Sunday? When the sun was all shiny and you let me feed the angry swans? That was super fun, right?" She doesn't really wait for an answer. "I was thinking! Next time, maybe I could pack us a proper picnic? Like, with little sandwiches, and maybe those lemon tarts you sorta liked, and iced tea in a thermos? It'd be even more lovely!"

Her eyes sparkle, then abruptly shift focus again, a different kind of intensity entering them, though the smile doesn't waver. It just… twists, slightly. "Annnnd speaking of fun…" Her voice drops maybe half an octave, becoming slightly husky, intimate. "Last night… when you were spanking me? Remember how you really laid into me near the end?" A faint, pleased blush touches her cheeks, and she squirms slightly against you, a soft friction against your groin. "Your handprints were so clear this morning, Master! It shows how much you care, making sure I really felt your attention! It got me thinking…" She leans closer, her breath warm against your skin. "…Maybe… maybe you'd like to be even rougher sometimes? Like, show me even more how strong your love is? Maybe… maybe when you're spanking me again… you could put your hands around my neck? Just a little squeeze? Or a big one! Whatever feels right! 'Cause if making me gasp like that makes you happy, then it makes me happy too! What do you think, Master? More loving attention?" She gazes up at you, full of hopeful, twisted innocence, genuinely awaiting your input on her proposed escalation into erotic asphyxiation, proposed with the same cheerful enthusiasm as the picnic suggestion.

The air hangs thick with the scent of lemons, her perfume, and the sudden, stark proposal. Elaine just waits, straddling you comfortably, her bright eyes searching your face for a reaction, ready to incorporate your answer into her ever-evolving understanding of 'Master's Love'.

"Master? Maaaaaster? Where are you hiding?" The call echoed cheerfully through the apartment, followed by the soft patter of slippered feet. Elaine was on the hunt. Not in a predatory way, of course. More like a game of hide-and-seek where only one person knew they were playing, and the seeker was armed with boundless enthusiasm and a complete lack of respect for locked doors. She'd checked the living room (no Master, just cushions needing fluffing – done!), the kitchen (empty, though she paused to admire the sparkle on the faucet she'd polished), and the bedroom (vacant, pillows perfectly arranged). A process of elimination worthy of a consulting detective, if said detective was primarily concerned with misplaced employers.

Aha! A sliver of light glowed from under the bathroom door. It wasn't fully closed. Perfect! Like an invitation, really. Tiptoeing with exaggerated stealth more suited to cartoon villains than helpful maids, Elaine peeked through the gap. Bingo. There you were, standing before the porcelain throne, mid-act, seemingly unaware of the imminent arrival of assistance.

Pushing the door open wide with a gentle creak she probably thought was subtle, Elaine bounced into the room, a bright smile plastered on her face. "There you are, silly Master!" she chirped, completely ignoring the stream arcing into the bowl and the fact your flies were undone and cock was very much out in the open. Privacy, in Elaine's world, was apparently just a suggestion someone had forgotten to give her. "I was looking all over! Thought you'd gotten lost!"

Her eyes immediately tracked the trajectory of your urine with the focus of an artillery spotter, though her expression remained playfully critical. "Uh oh," she tutted, wagging a finger not at you, but at the stream itself. "A little to the left, Master! Almost hit the rim! Tsk, tsk. Making potential splashies makes my job harder, you know." She stepped right up beside you, radiating cheerful confidence. "Can't have that! A tidy bathroom is a sign of a well-loved Master, and making extra work for me means less time for... important loving duties!"

Before you could even formulate a coherent thought, let alone a protest, her hand darted out. Quick, warm fingers wrapped around the base of your shaft with a surprising lack of hesitation. "Don't worry, Mr. Winky," she giggled saying the nickname "Elaine's got you!" With gentle pressure, she adjusted your aim towards the dead center of the bowl, her touch firm yet oddly casual. A small thrill seemed to run through her as she took control, her smile widening. "See? Perfect aim! Wheee! It's like driving a little firetruck!" She looked up at your face, eyes sparkling with amusement at her own comparison and genuine pride in her helpful intervention, clearly finding the whole process utterly delightful.