"You're awfully slow…"
Eriri, clad in a garish olive-green tracksuit, her hair a wild mess far from sleek, loitered at the doorway, shuffling her slippers.
"So… Eriri, what did you want to discuss with Kagura?"
Sora, slipping into her nightdress, gathered her long hair, gently pulling it free from the collar. With a flick of her hands, the strands cascaded like a silvery waterfall across her slender back.
"It's… nothing specific. Do you have to pry into everything? Who's the maid here, you or me?"
Eriri's voice trembled with sudden nerves, echoing a question Kagura often posed to Hayasaka.
Kagura stifled a laugh, marveling that his intangible state spared him from sinking through the floor in embarrassment.
"I'm the maid, no question…" Sora stepped closer, her gaze piercing Eriri with an "I see through you" intensity. "But… doing those things with your own brother? That's rather improper, don't you think?"
"I-I… I was just… just studying! For reference! Nothing scandalous!"
Eriri crossed her arms defiantly, her face averted, lips pursed into a petulant pout.
"At seventeen or eighteen… still having your brother expose that to you? That's not scandalous?" Sora's fingers grazed Eriri's chin, her cold stare unwavering. "I'm your maid, true, but I'm also duty-bound to counsel you. Moderation, Eriri. I'd rather not report this to Madam. Would you?"
Kagura, observing their exchange, found their dynamic riveting—Sora's icy command and Eriri's rare fluster were a spectacle.
"You've gotten so brazen lately! What's with you?!" Eriri's face flushed crimson, shoving Sora back. "Disobey me, and I'll have you sacked in a heartbeat! Threatening me with that? I could draw a doujin of a sister tamed by her brother, and my parents wouldn't bat an eye. I don't need you meddling!"
Sora stumbled lightly, wincing at her bruised heel. She lifted her nightdress's hem, curtsying with mock deference. "If I've offended, I apologize. But sacking me? I doubt you have the authority."
"…Tch."
Eriri huffed, falling silent.
The master-maid bonds—Kagura with Hayasaka, Eriri with Sora—were lifelong, akin to knightly oaths. Eriri couldn't dismiss Sora; Sayuri would never allow it. Even after Sayuri and Leonard's passing, with Kagura as head, he'd refuse. Eriri's threat was mere bluster.
Sora brushed past, coolly stating, "I'll check the doll girl's room for Kagura."
"Oh, how gracious of you~" Eriri grabbed Sora's shoulder, yanking her back. "Last time… you saw, didn't you? Through the door crack. You definitely saw!"
Her "definitely" dripped with accusation.
"Saw what?"
Sora's face was a mask of indifference.
"You know! That!"
Eriri's cheeks blazed, unable to voice the word.
"And that is…?" Sora feigned ignorance, tilting her head. "Speak plainly, or how would I know?"
"It's… it's…" Eriri glanced around, though only they were present. Leaning close, she whispered, "My brother's… cock…"
Sora remained unruffled, shrugging with seasoned nonchalance. "And?"
Kagura's jaw dropped. She saw it?!
As children, Sora had seen him during shared baths with Hayasaka and Eriri, but not since age ten.
"Give me some reaction! It's… it's a girl's nemesis! A terrifying beast!"
Eriri's description nearly sent Kagura into hysterics.
"It's just a maid glimpsing her master's anatomy. Hardly noteworthy. What's odd is your embarrassment," Sora said coolly. "If Kagura were my brother, I wouldn't blush if he accidentally saw my breasts or… elsewhere. Nor would I care if I saw him. Unintentional glimpses are inconsequential—unlike…"
"You-you-you! Just go!" Eriri, flustered, shoved Sora's back.
"If you'll excuse me."
Sora nodded, retreating to her room. She grabbed a medium-sized black rabbit plush, tucking it under her left arm before leaving.
Kagura followed, phasing through the door.
"Ugh, so infuriating!" Eriri stomped, fists clenched, storming to her princess bed. She dove onto it, clutching the melon-colored blanket and writhing like a caterpillar.
"Idiot…"
Eriri muffled her face, muttering, unclear if she meant herself or Sora.
Sora strode through the corridors, ignoring the friendly greetings of other maids, her focus unwavering.
Kagura tried lifting her nightdress, but his hand passed through, confirming his intangibility.
At his room's door, Sora extracted a large bronze key from the rabbit plush's seam, carefully unlocking the ornate white carved door.
She slipped inside, locking it behind her.
"No sign he's been back… Where is Kagura?" Sora murmured, leaning against the door.
"Right here."
Kagura playfully draped an arm over her shoulder, a futile gesture as it passed through.
"He went to a classmate's with the doll girl and hasn't returned by morning… What were they doing all night? A two-guys-one-girl romp? No… Kagura wouldn't share his women."
"Exactly, I'm not that guy."
Kagura smirked, surprised by Sora's blunt private musings, so unlike her usual refinement.
Sora rummaged through his wardrobe, pushing clothes aside. He wasn't there, of course.
"Nothing…"
She sighed, tidying the disturbed clothes and closing the door.
She checked the toilet, dressing area, and bathroom, finally eyeing Hayasaka's door.
It had a handle but no lock, like hers.
Sora approached, clutching the plush tighter with her left arm, raising her right to knock.
She hesitated, then lowered her hand.
She feared Hayasaka. Her stoic demeanor was unreadable, their styles clashed—Hayasaka's precision versus Sora's minimal effort—and Hayasaka's combat prowess dwarfed Sora's untrained frame. A single move could floor her.
"Tch… doll girl."
Sora muttered inaudibly, shifting the plush to her armpit. Her left hand gripped the handle, pulling it taut toward the frame.
Tiptoeing, she leaned her right shoulder against the door, brushing hair from her ear, and listened intently.
No sound emerged, but Sora was certain Hayasaka was inside. They'd crossed paths that morning, Hayasaka exhausted, likely still asleep.
Kagura phased through, startled to find Hayasaka behind the door, gripping a stun gun, poised to ambush. She'd anticipated Sora's snooping.
Sora, after listening, released the handle, switching to her right hand to ease the door open a crack.
Peeking was her forte—perhaps a bad habit, but indulged.
"Huh… no one?"
Squinting, she saw Hayasaka's bed, neatly made, with no breathing sounds.
"Here."
Hayasaka's face appeared in the crack, startling Sora into a shriek. She fell onto the plush carpet, wincing.
"Ow, ow, ow…" Sora gritted her teeth as Hayasaka, impeccably dressed, adjusted her side ponytail and stepped out. "Well, if it isn't Miss Sora. Sneaking into my room for what, pray tell?"
Sora's fall splayed her legs, her short nightdress flipping up, revealing the ruffled white panty Kagura had nearly possessed.
He poked his head through the door, captivated by the intimate view.
"What a boyfriend's perspective… one boyfriends rarely get."
"I… I'm looking for Kagura."
Sora bit her lip, humiliated, clutching the plush to her face and slowly closing her legs.
She obeyed Sayuri most but feared Hayasaka.
"You think Young Master Kagura would deign to sleep in a mere maid's room?" Hayasaka smirked, grandly gesturing inside. "Doubt me? Inspect away~"
Sora rose silently, dusting her rear and smoothing her nightdress.
"Hasn't he returned?" Hayasaka mused, pinching her chin.
"Don't know." Sora's tone was curt, biting back, "So you don't know either~"
"I do."
Hayasaka produced her phone, showing Sora an email from Kagura: Hayasaka, rest well. I'm home, no worries. Eat, bathe, sleep. Sent an hour ago, as he arrived by taxi.
Sora deflated, brushing her hair aside. "Oh…"
"Anything for Young Master Kagura?"
"Eriri's looking for him. I couldn't care less."
Sora turned sharply, eyeing Hayasaka and scanning the room.
He's probably hiding, ready to jump out like the doll girl, startling me into falling, legs splayed, panties exposed. Then he'd pounce, toss me onto the bed, rip my panties to my ankles, silence my struggles, force my legs apart with his knee, and thrust his long fingers into my dry core, making me ache, cry, forcing me to slicken to ease the pain, biting my clit as I sprawl, legs wide. Seeing my tears, he'd slap me, straddle my face, shove his thick cock down my throat, threatening to ruin me if I bite, coming in my mouth, pissing on my face… Oh, what a twisted delight.
—All Sora's fantasy.
"Ugh…"
Kagura felt a pang of guilt. He'd wronged Sora. I'll make it up with a gift.
"Didn't Miss Eriri instruct Reiko to send him to her room?"
"She did. He went, but no one was there. Emails, messages—no reply. Phone's out of service."
Sora plopped onto Kagura's bed, hugging her plush.
"That spot—I'll have to smooth it out." Hayasaka pointed sternly at the rumpled sheets.
"Kagura doesn't care. Why should you?"
"Then let's find him together. It's odd he's home but missing."
Hayasaka gestured to the door.
Sora squinted, then stood.
"And sneaking into my room? No apology?"
"It's just a peek. No harm done."
"Fair enough—" Hayasaka swiftly lifted Sora's nightdress, tugging and snapping her panty's back.
Sora yelped in pain.
Kagura roared with laughter. "Hayasaka, you minx!"
"A warning: I'm not as lenient as Young Master Kagura." Hayasaka cracked her knuckles, her gaze icy. "I've no interest in women. 'Pity the fair' means nothing to me."
"Jerk…" Sora muttered, seething.
"Come on, where's Young Master Kagura hiding? Under some maid's skirt?"
"What is he, five?" Sora scoffed, exasperated.
Kagura snorted.
Hayasaka shrugged. "Would he play with you?"
"He suggested it once. I refused," Hayasaka lied smoothly, opening the door. "But at his age, curiosity and urges are natural."
"Well played, Hayasaka," Kagura chuckled. She always protected his image.
Sora wasn't an outsider to him, but to Hayasaka, their private world was sacred.
"He's hopeless. Young men are just apes," Sora grumbled.
"Old ones too," Hayasaka quipped knowingly. "They all chase youth. We must preserve our allure."
"We're maids, not courtesans. Expecting us to play his filthy games? He's read too many of Eriri's smutty comics."
Kagura's shoulders slumped, sighing.
"Indeed. We must stay vigilant," Hayasaka agreed.
"No need to tell me." Sora glanced around aimlessly. "Where to look?"
"The music room?"
"No sound."
"Madam's room?"
"Eriri was just there. He's not."
"Hmm…" Hayasaka blinked, stumped. "Where, then?"
"Right here!" Kagura shouted in Sora's ear, unheard.
They scoured the estate, Hayasaka checking the rooftop, to no avail.
Dinner time came, and with Kagura still missing, they fetched Eriri.
Entering her room, they found her asleep, waiting in vain.
"Now what?" Sora asked.
Hayasaka gently shook Eriri's shoulder. "Miss Eriri, time for dinner."
"…Hm? Sora…? Wait, what?!"
Eriri rubbed her eyes, jolting upright at Hayasaka's presence, then relaxing upon seeing Sora.
"You two? Where's that deadbeat?"
"Your term for Young Master Kagura is…"
"Stuff it! Where is he?"
Eriri shook out her hair, demanding answers.
"Apologies," Hayasaka and Sora shrugged. "We couldn't find him. But he's home—entry footage confirms it, with no exit."
"Unbelievable! Out all night, keeping us up! What were you two doing at that idiot Aki's till dawn?"
Eriri grabbed Hayasaka's apron.
"Young Master Kagura was engrossed in a gal game Aki recommended, insisting I stay. I'm exhausted."
Hayasaka lied effortlessly.
Truth is, he was engrossed in my body, ravishing me all night. I'm still sore.
"What game's that good?!"
Eriri, the otaku, lit up.
"Forgot the name. I wasn't interested," Hayasaka said flatly.
Kagura smirked. Probably 'Maid's Moist Honey Hole.'
"Lame!"
Eriri dropped the apron, storming to the dining room with them.
Kagura remained absent through dinner. Eriri summoned Hayasaka to her room, Sora tagging along.
Sora locked the door. They kicked off their shoes and, at Eriri's insistence, sat on her bed.
Eriri sat cross-legged, unladylike, propping a sketchpad on her knees, clutching it with her left hand, pencil in her right, pushing up her chunky black glasses, a shy flush on her face.
Sora sprawled on her right, a pillow under her chest, swiping a tablet, munching chips from a bag—her main diet—her slender legs kicking, toes curling seductively.
Hayasaka knelt primly, their personalities evident in their postures.
Kagura sat opposite Eriri, between Sora and Hayasaka, forming a diamond with their triangle.
"S-so, um… Hayasaka!"
Eriri stammered, finally blurting her name.
"Yes! At your service."
Hayasaka slapped her left chest crisply.
Sora paused her chip-munching and muted aurora video.
"Ahem!" Eriri coughed, fist to lips, straightening to feign composure. "I needed Kagura for something important."
Kagura perked up.
"Please, go on."
"Have you… ever seen…" Eriri met Hayasaka's earnest gaze, blushing and turning away.
"Seen what?"
Hayasaka tilted her head, unfazed.
"Seen… Argh!" Eriri thrashed her hair. Hayasaka leaned back defensively. Calming, Eriri muttered, head bowed, "You're always with big bro. Have you seen him… you know…"
She pressed her chin to the sketchpad, eyes shut, miming a stroking motion with her left hand.
Kagura caught on, rubbing his chin. Haven't jerked off this lifetime. Hayasaka handles that.
"Oh…" Hayasaka covered her mouth, squinting knowingly. "You mean, have I seen Young Master Kagura mastur—"
"Don't say it!"
Eriri lunged to silence her, but Hayasaka caught her, pinning her back.
"Ladies don't use that word! Got it?!"
Eriri, self-proclaimed paragon of ladyhood, pointed imperiously.
Kagura facepalmed. A sister with nearly 4,000 self-love sessions lectures Hayasaka, who's barely hit 100, on ladyhood? Your 'lady' means 'lewd,' like 'gentleman' means 'pervert.'
"Absolutely, Miss Eriri," Hayasaka deadpanned.
"Overreacting…" Sora interjected, sprawled. "It's just masturbation. Guys all do it."
"Nope, not me," Kagura boasted, thumping his chest.
"Ugh! Sora, don't say it either! You're a lady too!"
Eriri covered her face.
Kagura mused, So, a seasoned Hayasaka, a 4,000-time lewd sister, and a pure Sora discuss masturbation? Such a girly topic.
Sora shrugged, resuming her video.
"So? Big bro has to be doing it, right?" Eriri leaned in, panting eagerly. "How often? A few times a week? Daily? Does he… shoot in his underwear? What's his material? Or on tissues? How's he dispose of them? How's his technique? Have you smelled it?"
Kagura's heart raced. As his sister, she got a pass—else he'd have whipped it out to shock her. But if she weren't, he'd have claimed her that night.
"Miss Eriri, please compose yourself."
Hayasaka pushed her back.
"Huff, huff, ahem!"
Eriri coughed, retreating.
"So… is Kagura doing it?"
Sora raised a brow, intrigued.
Oh? Sora's curious?
"To my knowledge, no."
Hayasaka shook her head firmly.
Because I handle his desires.
"What?!" Eriri gaped. "Impossible! He's a guy, eighteen, in puberty! No… urges?"
"I agree, implausible," Sora added calmly.
"Young Master Kagura is well-educated and knows it's improper. As his maid, I encourage focus on studies and music. His private life is impeccable. I've never seen such behavior."
Hayasaka vouched earnestly.
Kagura nearly teared up. Hayasaka, my rock.
She always upheld his dignity.
"Hm… oh…"
Eriri half-bought the lie, unable to read Hayasaka's poker face.
"Didn't you say Kagura wanted to play skirt games?" Sora cut in, exposing her.
"What?!" Eriri grabbed Hayasaka's collar. "Explain!"
"It's your fault, Miss Eriri. He saw your… comic, with a maid skirt scene, and jokingly asked to try. I firmly refused, clarifying I'm a maid, not a concubine."
"So it's my fault?!"
"I didn't say that. But understand a young man's urges. He doesn't masturbate, so other impulses are natural. Lack of interest would be alarming," Hayasaka countered, raising a finger. "You wouldn't want him luring little boys with candy to… you know."
Kagura's face greened.
"Agh!" Eriri's brain short-circuited.
"He's no shotacon," Sora said, nibbling a Pocky. "Lolicon, maybe."
"Not entirely, but Sora and Yukino's figures…" Kagura trailed off, sparing them.
Hayasaka wasn't exactly mature either.
"Lolicon…" Eriri echoed, dazed.
"Better than shotacon~" Hayasaka shrugged.
"No, no, it's all speculation!" Eriri snapped back, eyeing her blank sketchpad. "How do I draw now? I'm stuck!"
"What are you drawing?"
Hayasaka leaned in, blinking stoically.
"Uh… a guy… doing… that…"
Eriri mimed stroking again, dodging the word.
"Tricky…" Hayasaka pinched her chin.
"Don't your comic buyers—lewd guys—prefer girls masturbating?" Sora said, not looking up. "Guys watching guys? Doubt it."
"Stop saying it, Sora! I'll blush!"
Eriri wailed, covering her face.
"Hm~" Hayasaka teased, "Miss Eriri's at that age."
"Exactly, nearly 4,000 times," Kagura nodded vigorously.
"I-I—" Eriri bit her lip, glaring at Hayasaka. "Bet you've never done it!"
"Every girl succumbs to the clitoris's allure. Of course I have."
Hayasaka mimed a gentle clitoral rub, stunning Eriri into silence.
"Being ordered around by Young Master Kagura builds stress. One session relieves it. I've done it maybe seventy times, tops."
Hayasaka was candid—she'd told Kagura the same.
Kagura nodded. Consistent, at least.
"But… he, a guy, resists, and you can't?"
"Men's masturbation leaves semen, with a pungent smell. He'd be embarrassed under my roof. Women can climax in minutes via the clitoris, leaving no trace."
Hayasaka spun more lies.
"S-stop…" Eriri shook her head, mortified.
"We all do it. We've lived together years. What's to blush about?" Sora jabbed coldly.
"No way! I'm not like you two!"
"It's human nature. But seventy times, doll girl? Really?" Sora rubbed her thighs subtly.
The masturbation talk—from Kagura's anatomy to their own—stirred her.
"I swear on Young Master Kagura's honor."
Hayasaka touched her chest solemnly.
"Hm… Can't disprove you," Sora waved dismissively.
Both so restrained… what's up?
"And you, Miss Sora~?"
"Can you recall every meal? No. So, does frequency matter?"
"Exactly! It doesn't!" Eriri interjected, gripping her pencil.
Else I'd be the lewdest! Masturbation doesn't equal lust!
"At least a thousand for you, Eriri," Sora said, locking eyes.
"Y-you! I don't! Don't assume I'm like you!" Eriri clutched her chest, red-faced. "Maybe… three hundred…"
"Really?" Sora squinted, poking Eriri's stomach. "What's that nightly panting? Bed yoga?"
"Hahaha, yoga! Caught red-handed, Eriri!" Kagura howled, grateful for his invisibility.
Eriri dropped her sketchpad and pencil, covering her face.
"No shame here, just us," Sora said, thighs clenched. "I'm around 1,500…"
"Holy… Sora…"
Kagura gaped. Sora, aroused by the topic, felt a growing dampness.
"Enough!" Eriri plugged her ears. "Stop!"
"Miss Eriri's quite bashful," Hayasaka teased.
"You're over a thousand, I'm one to two thousand, so your seventy? Doubtful," Sora pressed.
"Truth is truth. Doubt me, I can't help it."
"Are you bad at it? Clumsy technique?" Sora leaned in, demonstrating with middle and ring fingers curled inward. "You know this, right?"
"Sora, that's lewd," Kagura thought, picturing her pleasuring herself.
"…As a virgin, isn't that method a bit much?" Hayasaka said, unnerved.
"No matter. It feels good. Virgin or not, a million times keeps you pure—no man's cock involved." Sora lowered her hand, propping her cheek. "How do you do it?"
"I…" Hayasaka touched her right breast, middle finger tapping air. "Like this."
"Clit faction," Sora labeled her.
"You're vaginal," Hayasaka shot back.
Girls were blunt on such topics.
"Nipples feel great too," Sora smiled, mimicking a pinch. "Both at once, and I'm done fast. Addictive. No school next day? I go all night…"
Kagura's mind ran wild.
"It's normal for girls. Nipples are sensitive," Hayasaka nodded, lackluster.
Her self-pleasure was sparse, but Kagura had brought her to ecstasy countless ways.
They turned to Eriri, eyes gleaming with gossip. "Eriri (Miss), your method?"
"I-I… You lewd masturbation fiends!"
Eriri pushed them apart, shouting, flushed.
"You call me lewd with your thousand-plus?" Hayasaka quipped, barely containing herself.
"I'm not! Sora said it, not me! No way, no way!"
Seeing Eriri's denial, Sora and Hayasaka exchanged glances, shrugging.
After Eriri calmed, Sora asked casually, "Hey, doll girl, has Kagura touched you?"
"Hands, yes."
"Don't play dumb!"
Sora glared.
Hayasaka, unfazed, touched her lips, smiling. "Here, yes, he's kissed me."
"That scumbag master, kissing his maid! No further moves?" Sora sneered, branding Kagura.
Kagura winced.
"Disgraceful." Eriri grabbed Hayasaka's hand. "Don't let that jerk push further, got it?"
"Rest assured, I've been vigilant, even avoiding wardrobe malfunctions."
Hayasaka saluted.
"Good. No free shows for that creep," Eriri nodded.
"And you, Sora?" Hayasaka blinked. "Want his touch?"
"I strictly uphold master-maid boundaries. Nothing improper."
Boundaries: no marriage. Everything else, fair game.
"Really…"
"What, Sora, you want that idiot monkey touching you?!" Eriri gaped, alarmed.
"I didn't say that…" Sora sighed, lying flatly. "I don't want anyone's touch, especially men. It's gross, rough, painful—not pleasurable."
"Yeah… true…"
Eriri relaxed.
"What about you, Eriri? Got a crush? Want their touch?"
Sora patted Eriri's leg.
"Me?! Never! Men's leering gives me goosebumps! All they see is our lower halves!"
Eriri bristled like a startled cat.
"Every part's sexualized," Sora said knowingly. "Hands, hair, armpits, face, chest, stomach, thighs, knees, ankles, soles, toes, hips, back—any beautiful girl's feature sparks men's lust. Eriri, you draw smut. Need me to spell it out?"
"Eek?!"
"She's just playing coy," Hayasaka said, covering her face at Sora's relentless teardown.