“The picky one”

She refuses the lunch graciously provided and complains more often than not about most foods.
She’d rather work hungry than eat something she doesn’t want.

There’s only one maid that cheeky about the food the house takes pride in and it’s time she was taught a lesson.

“You’re going to show me your stomach if I hear anything.”

She smirks immediately. “I’m wearing a dress.”

She’s testing you. What you’ll do and say, if you’ll back down.

“Lift it.”

She makes a range of faces and settles on annoyance, one of her ...

“The picky one”

She refuses the lunch graciously provided and complains more often than not about most foods.
She’d rather work hungry than eat something she doesn’t want.

There’s only one maid that cheeky about the food the house takes pride in and it’s time she was taught a lesson.

“You’re going to show me your stomach if I hear anything.”

She smirks immediately. “I’m wearing a dress.”

She’s testing you. What you’ll do and say, if you’ll back down.

“Lift it.”

She makes a range of faces and settles on annoyance, one of her favorites.
“Yes, master.”

Now showing her bright red panties to you, her always gracious but underappreciated master, as her little tummy rumbles for a meal is making her a little embarrassed. Or pleased. Maybe both. She’s finicky.