The soft click of the door announced her arrival. Mitarai looked up from his book to see Himejima Akeno framed in the doorway, a vision that made his breath catch.
"Ta-da!" she sang, her voice a melody of pure temptation. "I tried wearing the maid uniform I borrowed from Rias' house. What do you think, Sensei? Does it suit me?"
Her usual raven hair, still damp and dark as wet feathers, was gathered in a loose tail, a few artful strands framing her face. The classic Gremory maid uniform—a stark black dress under a frilly white apron—hugged her curves in a way the family's actual staff would never dare. She'd forgone the headband, making the outfit less a uniform and more a provocative costume chosen for a single, very specific audience.
With a practiced, graceful spin, she lifted the hem of her skirt. It was shorter, Mitarai noted with a surge of heat, much shorter than the standard issue.
The smile she offered him wasn't the gentle, placid one she showed the Occult Research Club. This was a sharp, knowing, and utterly predatory grin, meant for him alone.
"Ohh, Akeno," Mitarai breathed, his voice dropping.
"I usually picture you in a kimono, but damn… You really do look good in anything."
"Hehe, thank you very much." She took a step closer, the soft rustle of fabric loud in the quiet room.
"I borrowed it from Rias specifically to show you. I'm very glad you approve."
The skirt swayed with her movement, offering a fleeting glimpse of the shadowed secret beneath. It had been calculated, he knew. Everything about Akeno was a beautiful calculation.
"So, today Akeno is my maid, huh?" Mitarai asked, leaning back in his chair, adopting the role of master she was offering.
"Yes, that's right." She gave a small, performative bow.
"Today, I am your maid for the whole day. Please feel free to give me any orders, Sensei."
A slow, wicked smile spread across Mitarai's face.
"Well then, since I'm curious… lift up your skirt and show me what's inside."
"Understood." Her eyes glimmered with dark delight. Her hands went to the black fabric.
"Like this, I'll lift it up smoothly… There you go, please take a look."
The revealed sight was a stark, erotic contrast. Against the black uniform and her pale skin lay a pair of pure white panties, deceptively simple.
The lace was elegant, but its purpose was blatant: a sheer fortress guarding her intimacy. The soft, plush curve of her thighs led the eye inexorably inward.
And there, against the blinding white, was the most damning evidence of her intent—a teasing spill of jet-black pubic hair, curling just beyond the lace's edge.
A scent wafted to him—a blend of rose perfume and something deeper, muskier, uniquely her. It was the scent of a woman priming herself. Mitarai's nostrils flared.
"Mmm, being looked at so closely like this is making me excited." Akeno's voice was a husky whisper.
"Hey, Sensei? Can't you do more than just watch? Would you touch me?"
"You're a truly naughty maid," he chuckled, rising to his feet. "Begging your master before your service even begins. Fine. I'll play with you as you wish."
He closed the distance, his index finger finding the center of the white fabric. It gave way instantly, sinking into a breathtaking softness. The heat and pliant flesh of her mound enveloped the tip of his finger.
The pristine white had already darkened in a damp, tell-tale patch over her core. A gentle circular rub drew a soft, slick sound from her.
"You're soaked already," he murmured, his own arousal coiling tight. "And I haven't even seen it properly yet. Such a greedy little maid."
"Hehe, it's only for you, Sensei." Her breath hitched as he applied more pressure.
"You're the one who made me like this. A girl who's learned to moan in ecstasy can't help but become naughty. So I'm your naughty student, molded by you. Please… make me even naughtier."
Her own hands hooked into the sides of her panties, dragging them down her thighs. The fabric was heavier with her nectar.
At his wordless command, she stepped out of them, one leg then the other, leaving them pooled on the floor.
Mitarai snatched them up. The small, darkened stain at the center was a map of her arousal. He brought it to his face, burying his nose in the damp, perfumed silk.
The aroma was intoxicating—female heat, sweet musk, and floral notes—a pheromone cocktail designed to incite a riot in a man's blood. He inhaled deeply, audibly, reveling in it.
"Ahn… please, don't smell it so brazenly," she whimpered, but her eyes were burning.
She then took his wrist, guiding his now-free hand back between her legs, past the curtain of black curls, to the slick flesh beneath.
Her folds were already glistening, swollen, and ready. Her inner lips, a delicate pink, peeked out slightly from the slick cleft. This was no longer the untouched garden of a few months prior; it was a woman's sex, radiant with a mature, hungry allure.
Mitarai dragged a finger slowly along her slit, mapping her shape, gathering her wetness.
A sweet sigh escaped Akeno, even though the touch was light. All the women who became his learned this: he loved their sounds.
They were his chorus. And so, like the obedient maid she was pretending to be, she panted, she moaned, holding her skirt aloft to give him full access.
The scent of her grew stronger, heady and primal. As he circled her entrance, the tight ring of muscle fluttered, then relaxed with a soft, wet gasp, opening and closing as if trying to suck him in. Clear fluid welled from her depths. He pushed his finger inside, and her body swallowed it to the knuckle with ease.
'Aaahhh… Sensei's thick finger is coming in… ahhhhh…!'
Her hips jerked, a full-body convulsion of pleasure. She braced herself, knees trembling, determined to take it, to savor it.
The passage that had welcomed his cock countless times now hugged his finger snugly, a familiar, welcoming heat. He thrust it slowly, feeling the fascinating texture of her inner walls, the way they clenched and rippled around the intrusion.
He crooked his finger, searching, and her internal muscles squeezed in a frantic, loving pulse.
"Nnnn!!! Sensei's finger is moving… it feels so good…" she mewled, her composure shredding.
"How about you, sensei? Does it feel good inside Akeno's pussy?"
"Of course it does," he growled, adding a second finger alongside the first, stretching her.
"How could it not feel good, having a hole that grips me like it's begging to be bred? A hole that gets this wet just from a few touches?"
"I'm… I'm glad… ah! I'm going to come already if you crush my clitoris…!"
...
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