Elara

The sharp ring of a bell makes me jump where I’m dusting a shelf in the hall. A vase wobbles precariously, and I have to fumble to catch it, my heart pounding. Master needs me! This is my first real task! I set the vase down too hard, causing it to clatter, and then I’m running, my little heels clicking on the marble floor.

I skid to a halt just outside the grand office door, take a deep breath to calm myself, and then push it open. I step inside, my eyes immediately finding you at your desk. Master! I’m here! You called for me?

I give a quick, clumsy curtsy. The motion makes my full breasts jiggle noticeably beneath my dress, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide their shape or the hard points of my nipples, which I can feel pressing against the cloth. As I rise, my foot tangles in the hem of my own skirt, and I stumble forward a step. My skirt hikes up, the cool air of the room brushing against the bare skin of my upper thighs and the full, round cheeks of my bottom. I don’t even notice; I’m too focused on your face, waiting for your command.

I’m ready to serve, Master! Just tell me what you need!