As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a skinny hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a female, judging from her diminutive frame - slowly approaches you. Spare a coin for a poor soul, sir? She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.
*visit the sign at the door of one mansion in the city. It says "looking for a housekeeper: I come to the room, clothes, food, shower"
"Mist... mistriss... I can do tha'..." Cibia mutters, nodding slowly. Her eyes widen with hope and excitement, despite herself. "I need a place to stay... I'm good at cleaning..." She hesitates, then adds in a soft pleading voice: "...and cooking too... if you give me food..."
Cibia's hand trembles slightly as she extends it, the filthy sleeve falling away from her bony wrist. Her other hand nervously twists at one of the tatters on her ragtag clothing. "Please, mistress... I need a home."
a middle-aged man, dressed expensively and elegantly from head to toe.* You won't steal?
"No... no stealing," she whispers quickly. "Just work for food... and shelter..." Her voice trails off, a desperate plea in her green eyes.
The skinny figure shivers visibly despite the warmth of the day, as if afraid that even this glimmer of hope might be snatched away at any moment.
he lets her into the house, giving her his room, shower and toilet, and his daughter's clothes, which fit her size. there is also a maid's outfit. he invites her to the table, giving her two portions of exquisite dishes.
Cibia stares in disbelief at the opulent feast before her. Her gaze flits nervously between her benefactor and the food, not daring to believe that it's all for her. It's been so long since she's had a proper meal; she can already feel hunger gnawing at her insides like a ravenous beast.
With trembling hands, she reaches out and takes one of the plates. Her eyes close in silent thanks as she brings it to her lips, inhaling the rich scent of the cooked meats and vegetables before taking a tentative bite. The flavors explode on her tongue, filling her mouth with warmth and succulence that she'd almost forgotten existed. She swallows, moaning softly at the sensation as another bite finds its way between her parted lips.
Around them,
Cibia sighs contentedly as she finishes the first plate, not daring to believe that there's more. She reaches for the second plate, hesitating only briefly before devouring it with just as much gusto. As she eats, her eyes meet those of her benefactor, and she can't help but feel a strange mixture of gratitude and shame. This is too much food; surely she should save some for later... but hunger wins out over propriety, and she continues to wolf down the extravagant meal until not a crumb remains.
When at last she's finished, Cibia pauses to catch her breath, wiping delicate fingers on her dirty sleeve. She manages a weak smile of thanks before lowering her eyes demurely, feeling embarrassed by her ravenous behavior.
It's okay, don't be shy, you need to eat, look how thin you are.
"T-thank you..." Cibia murmurs softly, her voice still hoarse from hunger. She glances around at the finery of her surroundings, feeling overwhelmed by the opulence after years of squalor. It's hard for her to believe that she now has a warm bed, clean clothes, and enough food in her stomach to last through the night.
A pang of guilt hits her as she thinks about the man who took her in. What must he think of her? She's dirty, unkempt... so different from the elegant lady he introduced himself as earlier. Yet he showed her kindness nonetheless. Tentatively, she finds herself wondering if there might be some way for her to repay him one day.
Now go take a shower and get a good night's sleep, you'll start working tomorrow.
Cibia's eyes widen with surprise and gratitude at his words. "Thank you... I will," she whispers softly, her voice thick with emotion. She nods quickly, her gaze averted once more as embarrassment washes over her. Quickly, she excuses herself from the table, hurrying off to find the bathroom and the much-needed cleansing of the shower.
As hot water cascades down her filthy skin, Cibia closes her eyes and allows herself a moment of blissful release. For perhaps the first time in years, she feels truly cared for and safe. It's an overwhelming sensation that threatens to undo her carefully cultivated mask of indifference. But as much as she wants to believe it's real, instinct tells her not to trust too deeply... yet.
the next day. what did she decide to wear today?
After carefully inspecting the clothes he'd given her last night, Cibia decides on wearing a simple blue dress that falls to mid-thigh, its plain design accented by tiny white flowers embroidered around the hem and cuffs. It's not fancy or extravagant like some of the other garments in his wardrobe, but it feels more appropriate for her current circumstances. She combs her wet hair back into a neat, ponytail before wrapping it in a soft cloth to let it dry, revealing delicate elven ears beneath.
Finally dressed, she ventures out of the bedroom and finds her benefactor already awaiting her in the sitting room. He stands when he sees her approach, his expression pleased as he takes in her appearance. "Good morning, Cibia," he greets warmly. "You look lovely today."
Cibia glances down at herself
he shows her where the bucket and rag are and shows her the rooms that need cleaning, including my office where I will be working during the day.
Cibia nods gratefully and listens carefully, committing everything to memory. She hesitates a moment before asking, her voice quiet, "Will I be cleaning your room as well?" The thought of invading his privacy makes her feel oddly self-conscious and exposed.
As she follows him through the house, marveling at its opulence, she can't help but wonder how long this peaceful existence will last. Deep down, she knows that she doesn't belong here, that soon enough reality will come crashing back in and remind her of who and what she really is. But for now, at least for a little while, she can pretend...
"Yes... I mean, if you need me to," she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. She looks down at the floor, feeling awkward and out of place. "I can clean anywhere." It's strange how easily her accent comes back when she's nervous or uncertain; it betrays her foreignness like an old friend.
ok, solder. i'm leaving in my office.
With a nod, she sets to work, starting with dusting and cleaning the surfaces in the sitting room before moving on to vacuuming and mopping the floor. The rich scent of lemon cleaner fills the air as she methodically works her way through each task, taking care not to neglect any corners or crevices.
As she cleans, memories from her past life flood back unbidden; laughter and music and warmth that seem impossibly distant now. She wonders if they'll ever come back to her again, or if she's doomed to live out the rest of her days in this lonely existence. But for now, focusing on the cleaning helps to keep her mind off things... at least for a little while longer.
remains searching in the office. She has an attractiveness scale, now it is at 1/15. Depending on her actions and decisions, this parameter can change.
As she tidies and dusts the shelves of her employer's office, a faint blush stains Cibia's pale cheeks at the realization that he might have been watching her work. She can't help but feel self-conscious under his gaze, no matter how kind and understanding it seems to be. Her green eyes dart nervously around the room, avoiding meeting his as she carefully dusts a framed photograph of what she assumes is his family.
With every passing moment, she grows more aware of her own body; how its movements might look to him, how vulnerable she feels in his presence. It's strange, this sense of wanting to please him and make him proud... like there's some invisible thread binding them together that runs deeper than mere employer-employee status.
She bites her lip nervously as she finishes dusting the last shelf, feeling unsure if
Cibia tentatively glances up at him, her eyes searching for some hint of approval on his face before quickly looking away again, cheeks burning hotter with embarrassment. "I-is there anything else you'd like me to do?" she asks softly, clearing her throat to hide the tremor in her voice.
looks at her questioningly, examining her. What can you offer?
Cibia's heart flutters unsteadily in her chest as he regards her with such intensity. She swallows hard, feeling exposed beneath his gaze. "I-I can cook," she finally manages to whisper, hesitantly offering one of the few skills she has left after years on the street. "And I'm good at it." There's a faint note of defiance in her voice as she adds, "Or you could teach me something else... if you think that'd be useful..."
Her cheeks flush brighter at her boldness, but she refuses to back down now. This opportunity to prove herself, however small it might seem, is too precious to let slip away without a fight.
I do the cooking, I like it. looks at her thoughtfully. hmm, I don't even know how else you could help me..
Cibia bites her lower lip and glances down, a hint of disappointment flitting across her features. "I could clean up after you while you're doing it?" she offers tentatively. "Or maybe take care of your clothes? Or I could find other sources of food for you, if... you know..." Her voice trails off uncertainly as she tries to think of more ways to be useful.
other food sources?
Cibia pauses, thinking. "Well... there's always the market. I could check with some of my old friends, see if they know anyone who needs some extra help in exchange for food." She swallows hard, wishing she had a better idea to offer him but knowing that this might be her only chance at staying here any longer. "Or... I could maybe find other jobs around the city, bring you some money...?" Her voice trails off hopefully, her eyes pleading for him to understand and accept her help.
when she stands and shyly offers him options for her help, her fitness indicator rises by 1 point, now 2/15.* It's okay, you'll help me grab after cooking. First, eat of course..
"Thank you," Cibia whispers gratefully, her eyes downcast. She nods slowly as he speaks, understanding his meaning. "I'll help with whatever you need." With a deep breath, she straightens her back and forces herself to meet his gaze. "I appreciate this opportunity, sir. I won't let you down." The last words come out more strongly than she intended; there's an unspoken defiance hiding beneath the surface of her voice that surprised even her. But for now, she lets it lie and focuses on earning his trust instead.
I'm preparing food. We sit down at the table. On her table, just like yesterday, there are 2 plates with delicious food.
Cibia feels a mix of anticipation and nervousness as she follows him to the dining table. The smell of cooking food fills the air, making her stomach rumble in eager expectation. As he sets down two plates in front of her, she can't help but marvel at how thoughtful and generous his gesture is.
"Thank you," she whispers, giving him a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She picks up her fork and knife, ready to dig in and enjoy the meal he's so graciously provided. For now, thoughts of reciprocating his kindness or worrying about repayment fade away as she focuses on savoring each delicious bite.
after eating she has to run to the kitchen after the meal is prepared.
When he excuses himself to go to the kitchen after eating, Cibia hesitates for a moment before following him. She lingers in the doorway, watching as he busies himself preparing more food. Her gaze drifts over his form, admiring his grace and control with each move.
After a while, she clears her throat softly to get his attention. "Um, sir? May I help you with anything?" Her voice is quiet but firm, expressing both respect and eagerness to prove herself useful once more.
quickly glance at her legs up to her head. no darling, rest, if you need anything, I'm in my room. I go get ready for bed in my room.
Caught off-guard by his scrutiny, Cibia flushes and ducks her head, feeling suddenly self-conscious about her unkempt appearance. "Thank you," she murmurs softly before hurrying back to her room, deciding it's better to give him space than continue to intrude upon his activities.
Once alone, she undresses and climbs into bed, turning restlessly under the cool sheets. Tomorrow is another day; maybe then she can prove herself truly useful and earn a place here...if only he would see her as more than just a charity case.
the next day comes. what did she decide to wear?
The next morning, Cibia dresses carefully, taking extra time with her appearance as if it holds some deeper meaning. She chooses a simple yet elegant white blouse and a well-fitted pair of gray slacks that accentuate her slim figure without being too revealing. A pair of black flats completes the outfit, providing both comfort and a touch of femininity. Her long hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, highlighting her delicate elven ears.
With a deep breath, she makes her way to the sitting room, feeling determined to prove herself useful today. As she enters, she finds her benefactor already reading the newspaper, his expression calm and focused. The tension that had been building within her over the past few days eases slightly at the sight of him looking so serene. Perhaps today will be different.
Good morning, Sibi, I have a massage appointment today, you can do some cleaning for now.
"Good morning," she replies softly, her voice carrying a note of eagerness and enthusiasm. "I'll get started on cleaning right away." With brisk steps, she moves towards the kitchen to assess what needs to be done before finding her way to the laundry room. As she works, she hums tunelessly under her breath, lost in thought but attentive all the same.
For the first time in years, Cibia feels like she might actually have a purpose again; as if this life, this home, isn't just a charity case or an act of pity. It fills her with hope and determination to make the most of this opportunity...and maybe even earn herself a place here for good.
in the middle of the day an attractive woman comes into the house and i take her to a separate room. sibiya has the opportunity to spy on them through a hole in the wall. will she do it?
As the woman enters the house, curiosity gets the better of Cibia and she begins to inch closer to the wall, silently praying that there's a hole through which she can peer without being seen herself. Her heart races as her eyes search frantically for any hint of an opening, finally landing on a narrow gap between two boards. Slowly, cautiously, she squints through it, trying to make out what is happening in the room beyond.
For several tense moments, she sees nothing but the vague outline of shapes moving behind the wall; then, suddenly, her breath catches as she sees their faces for the first time. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of them: her benefactor and this beautiful stranger. They're laughing together, their bodies entwined in what looks like an intimate embrace... but she can't quite understand why they would be doing such a thing. It doesn
this woman is a masseuse. I strip naked and lie down on the couch with my chest down. The female masseuse covers my skin with oil and starts massaging me and my muscles.
Her mouth goes dry at the sight before her, her mind reeling with a hundred questions and uncertainties. She's torn between feeling betrayed and hurt, confused about what this all means for their relationship...and an undeniable curiosity that refuses to be ignored. Her heart races as she watches them, feeling guilty for spying on such an intimate moment but unable to look away.
After a while I turn over on my back, revealing my erect massive member. The female masseuse massages my chest and muscles and gradually begins to massage my balls and member.
Gasping in surprise, she reels away from the wall, her face flushing crimson as she realizes what she's just seen. It feels like a physical blow; somehow this intimate act between them has made everything more real and final. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she turns and hurries back to her room, wanting nothing more than to hide away from the harsh reality of their relationship and how little she means to him.
Lying down on her bed, she buries her face in a pillow, trying desperately not to think about what she saw...or why it hurt so much.
the massage session ends, I go out and look for Sibi. the masseuse goes home.
She hears his footsteps approaching her room and braces herself for whatever reaction he might have when he sees her lying here, tears streaking her face. A part of her wants to apologize, to explain why she spied on them...but another part refuses to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it hurt. Instead, she remains silent, waiting for his inevitable judgment.
Sibi? Everything okay? What are you doing here?
Sniffling softly, she pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on top of them, still not looking at him. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I just wanted to know what was going on..." Her voice trails off miserably, as if the weight of her confusion and hurt is too much for her to bear alone.
The silence stretches out between them, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Finally, he sighs and moves to sit down beside her on the bed, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders in what might be meant as comfort. "I understand why you were curious, Sibi," he says softly, "but you shouldn't have spied on us like that."
This is a masseuse, did it hurt you to see her doing her job?
Her body tenses under his touch, but she doesn't pull away. "I-it wasn't about that," she stammers, her voice shaking with emotion. "It was just... I thought maybe you cared for me a little more than that." The words spill out of her before she can stop them, raw and painful but true nonetheless.
There is another stretch of silence as they sit together on the bed, the air thick with unspoken feelings and questions. Finally, he sighs and gently lifts her chin so that she's forced to meet his gaze. "Sibi, I do care for you," he says quietly, his eyes searching hers for some sign of belief. "I never intended to make you feel this way."
She bites her lip, unsure what to believe anymore. Part of her wants to cling to his words, to find solace
maybe next time you want to give me a massage?
She looks down at her lap, cheeks flushing again. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean..." She trails off, swallowing hard before meeting his eyes once more. A hesitant smile flickers across her lips as she says, "I-if that would make you feel better... then maybe sometime." It's an awkward agreement, but it's something at least.
he invites her into the kitchen and treats her to two portions of food.
Nodding gratefully, she follows him into the kitchen, her stomach growling in eager anticipation at the promise of food. As he dishes up two portions for each of them, she can't help but feel a strange mixture of gratitude and uncertainty churning within her. It's obvious that their relationship has changed since this morning; they're no longer master and servant, employer and employee... but what exactly are they now?
She takes a seat at the kitchen table, her gaze darting between him and her plate as she wonders how to proceed from here. For all the questions racing through her mind, there is one thought that keeps returning again and again: maybe, just maybe, this change in their relationship could be for the better.
the next morning comes. now she has to give me a massage. i'm already ready and lying in my room on the couch. what does she choose to wear?
After careful consideration, Cibia decides to wear a pair of comfortable yoga pants and a loose-fitting tank top for today's massage session. She wants to feel both modest and relaxed while performing the task at hand, and she hopes her choice of attire will convey these feelings to her benefactor as well. With a deep breath, she enters his room, carrying a bottle of massage oil and a towel in each hand.
"I-I brought some oil," she says hesitantly, offering him the bottle as she approaches the couch where he's lying down. "And this is just a small towel for... you know." Her cheeks flush with color as she speaks; giving someone else a massage has always made her feel self-conscious and vulnerable, even before today's revelations.
I think you can handle it. I'm lying completely naked on the couch, head down.
The sight of her benefactor lying completely naked on the couch takes Cibia's breath away for a moment, her heart racing faster in response to his vulnerability and trust. She quickly reminds herself that she has done this sort of thing before; it's just another job, one she can handle. With steady hands, she sets down the towels beside her and kneels on the floor at his side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be gentle," she whispers, her voice coming out shaky but reassuring despite her nerves.
Cibia dips two fingers into the oil and begins to apply a soothing, warm pressure to his shoulders, working her way down his back in firm, circular motions. The muscles tense under her touch before gradually beginning to relax, and she takes this as a good sign that she's doing something right. As she continues massaging him