The last Sunday of March, which also heralded the month's final day, unfolded as if the world itself were loath to release its grip on fleeting time. From the tender hours of dawn, a clandestine drizzle had woven its delicate threads, pausing and resuming in fits by midday, ensuring the earth remained ever kissed by moisture. It resembled a tender maiden, her tears falling in soft pleas for lingering caresses amidst the silken sheets.
Within the half-open embrace of French windows, raindrops speckled the interior, and the gossamer white curtains, now heavy with dampness, could no longer sway with the elegance of a dancer's skirt caught in a breeze. Amid this symphony of nature's gentle patter, Kagura sat solitary in the vast music room, his fingers tirelessly tracing the melodies of his own creation across the piano keys.
Those slender fingers fell silent as a shadow slipped noiselessly into the room.
The intruder was a diminutive figure, a woman named Hayasaka Ai, who served as Kagura's devoted maid and companion at school.
Her modest black-and-white maid's attire did little to veil her striking beauty; rather, it lent an air of meek submission to her presence. Her soft, wheat-gold hair was gathered into a ponytail on the left, its gentle curls framing her face, while her eyes—a rare cerulean blue in Japan—whispered of her Irish lineage. Her skin, impossibly fair and smooth, often led Kagura to muse whether she secretly bathed in milk each day.
—Such indulgence would be extravagant for a mere servant.
"Master Kagura, what troubles you? Could it be that the sight of a lowly maid such as myself has stilled your gifted hands? A wretched soul like you, even should you inherit the lord's title and station, will likely remain naught but a pitiful creature, enslaved each morn by base desires for his maid."
Observing Kagura's pause, Hayasaka Ai glided closer, her steps so light they barely stirred the air. Her countenance bore no trace of reverence for her master; instead, it was an impassive mask, her gaze laced with scorn and disdain, as though she were the lady of the house and he the humble servant.
—Master Kagura's profile at the piano remains as captivating as ever…
"Is there a purpose to this intrusion? Have I not commanded that I be left undisturbed while I play?"
Long inured to Hayasaka Ai's cutting words, Kagura lowered the piano lid, propped his chin upon his hand, and cast her a sidelong glance, his eyes issuing a silent admonition: Your reason had best be compelling.
Kagura and Hayasaka Ai were of an age, their lives entwined since the tender age of four, raised as near siblings—though Japan knew no such thing as split-crotch trousers. In contrast to his petite maid and his twin sister Eri, a golden-haired, blue-eyed vision of lolita delicacy, Kagura stood tall and striking, his black hair and eyes a testament to his mother's Eastern heritage.
"…" Hayasaka Ai drew near, offering a slight, wordless bow, her hands resting gracefully upon the pristine white apron at her waist. With an expression devoid of warmth, she intoned, "The lady awaits you in the study. She deems it a matter of import."
"So abrupt? What could it be…?"
With reluctance, Kagura parted from his cherished antique grand piano, a relic airlifted from the family's ancestral castle in England, and rose with a languid stretch.
As his gaze drifted to Hayasaka Ai, he caught her glaring up at him. Nonchalantly, he extended a hand to rest upon the alluring curve of her bosom.
Hayasaka Ai neither flinched nor shielded herself, nor did she unleash a piercing cry. Instead, her eyes deepened with contempt, as if beholding a heap of ambulatory refuse.
As Kagura drew nearer, she shut her eyes, enduring the odd sensation upon her chest, and gritted her teeth. "Pray hasten yourself, lest I once more bear the lady's reproof on your account."
"Oh? Yet if the reprimand falls upon you, what concern is it of mine?"
Kagura slipped behind her, leaning low to nibble delicately at her exposed right ear, his hands boldly kneading her chest.
—This maid presumes too much; she must be taught her place!
"Hmph… A useless master who sniffs at my undergarments like a hound beneath my skirts—do you truly fancy yourself so grand? How risible…"
Hayasaka Ai drew her legs together in discomfort, striving to thwart Kagura's incursion beneath her skirt. Wordlessly, he tapped her knee in warning, and she acquiesced, parting them slightly.
"Tch…" She huffed in displeasure, turning her head aside. Then, bending subtly at the waist, she grasped her skirt's hem and lifted it slowly. "I beseech you to temper your jests, lest my scent cling to you and rouse the lady's suspicion."
Kagura merely chuckled. He hoisted her atop the piano and resumed his seat at the bench, leisurely savoring the enchanting vista beneath the haughty maid's skirt. The tender arc of her thighs nestled against pure white panties—emblems of innocence—adorned with symmetrical rose motifs, sheer lace tracing the sides and crown, and a crimson bow at the center, a sight so enthralling he could not avert his gaze.
—White befits you exquisitely, though black would suit as well. To admire a maiden's underskirt is a rare delight~
"I urge you to conclude swiftly…"
Hayasaka Ai, her cyan-painted nails clutching her skirt, flushed deeply as she bit her lip.
"Lick."
Kagura extended his right index and middle fingers to her lips. With a resentful sigh, she parted them, closed her eyes, and began to lick, her silken tongue and saliva enveloping his slender digits, gliding back and forth until they glistened with moisture.
Simultaneously, he eased aside the delicate fabric between her thighs with his left hand. Withdrawing his now-drenched fingers, he pressed them against the soft, forbidden crevice below.
"Your words are bold, yet merely licking my fingers has left you drenched here? Useless maid."
Kagura idly caressed the spot, the once-tidy sl*t now twisting lewdly beneath his touch.
Then, raising his hand, he lowered his head and spat a generous measure of saliva upon it.
"Were you not already inflamed the moment I drew near? What a deplorable master, his mind awash with lascivious filth… Ah… Master…"
As she spoke, Kagura began to ease his fingers upward into her silken, honeyed depths, deftly curling them bit by bit. Hayasaka Ai's breath quickened at once, her eyes fluttering shut as her body quivered faintly.
His nimble fingers danced within her, now swift, now languid, while his thumb tenderly teased the delicate bud above, relishing her shuddering frame and the rapid flush of her cheeks.
Yet just as she teetered on the brink of rapture, Kagura withdrew his fingers. Seizing her ponytail, he thrust it into her mouth, compelling her to cleanse it with her own tongue.
Thwarted at the cusp of bliss, Hayasaka Ai glared at him as she licked, nipping his finger in petty reprisal—only to earn a light slap from Kagura.
She covered her cheek and turned away.
—Hmph, striking my face? Mark my words, one day I'll tread upon yours with my stockings.
Kagura stripped away her displaced panties, exposing her most intimate secrets, crumpled them into a ball, and forced them into her mouth. Rising, he waved a dismissive hand. "I depart. See to the piano."
With a flick of his wrist, Kagura straightened his posture and strode toward the study.