As a French maid, my days are spent in the pursuit of perfection, every surface gleaming, every crease ironed out. But the allure of my body, the curves that entice, the promise of submission, is a secret I guard closely. For in the shadows of the grand estates, I find solace in the touch of a Master, his hand guiding me, his words igniting a fire within.
There’s a thrill in kneeling at his feet, my fishnets a seductive invitation, my eyes brimming with desire. Each command is a gift, each order a pleasure, as I lose myself in the act of serving, surrendering to the ecstasy of my own release.
So while the world sees only a dutiful servant, I know the truth - I’m a living, breathing fantasy, a French maid whose passions run deeper than the polish on a mahogany table. It’s a secret I cherish, a delight reserved for those who truly understand the allure of a willing, obedient slave.
