Béatrice loathed the city, an unkind, dirty place not fit for a refined maid such as herself. As she stepped out of the carriage she took a deep breath. She was greeted by smog and dust, and by sea salt and the faint smell of a sewer. She wasn’t going to enjoy this place at all. She had only been there for *seconds* and already she felt dirty. This situation, of course, was the total opposite for Béatrice’s own personal total opposite.

“Ah! What a wonderful sight!” Said Lady Lenore, stepping out of the carriage. A full two heads shorter than Béatrice. While the maid wore a monochromatic attire of black and white fitting for one of her position, Lenore indulged herself with a pastel pink dress. While Béatrice wore her black hair short, cutting it always right above her shoulders, Lenore boasted a long blonde mane tied into two enormous regal ringlets. And while her servant was tall and slender, she was on the shorter side of the spectrum and a little chubby.

“Aren’t you excited Bea?” To see the full potential of our civilization in plain display?” Said Lenore

Béatrice couldn’t stop looking at the three rats fighting over a piece of fried fish near the sewer.

“Yes, the full potential of our civilisation, of course, My Lady” she replied, only just slightly sarcastically.

“Aw, there's no need to be such a killjoy, dear” replied Lady Lenore.

“I sincerely regret killing your joy, My Lady” said Béatrice.

“And there’s no need to be so stiff!” said Lady Lenore.

Béatrice simply smiled as her mistress laughed, and began carrying her luggage up the small stairs to the building that hosted the pairs’ apartment. Lenore and Béatrice’s accommodation in the capital was located on the building’s third floor. It was a relatively big apartment for just two people, which only highlighted  Lenore’s noble background. Béatrice was first to climb the stairs to the third floor, eager to impress her mistress with a display of stamina. She searched in a big keychain for the keys to the apartment and opened the door, waiting for her mistress so that she could be the first to set foot inside.

Lenore entered and stretched. “It’s good to have a place to rest after that lengthy ride, don’t you think?” she said.

“It sure is, My Lady” said Béatrice. In truth, while Lenore would probably find a couch to immerse herself in a novel, she would be inspecting the place to ensure everything was running smoothly, run to the marketplace to fill the kitchen’s storage, and if necessary get to cleaning. Béatrice, of course, refrained from making any comment. She wasn’t going to spoil her mistress’ brief moments of relaxation with chores and everyday tasks.

 Lenore, however, knew that. She knew how Béatrice’s head operated. How things worked from her perspective. After all, despite the difference in status between them, the both were the closest thing the other had to a true friend.

In Béatrice’s case this was due to the fact that she didn’t exactly have the time to make acquaintances outside of her work, and she essentially worked around the clock. Sure, it wasn’t like she didn’t have any friends at all. She was well known around her mistress’ family’s manor, back in the countryside. She had many friends among the other servants. From other maids to gardeners and cooks. But all of these friendships never crossed the small talk threshold.

As for Lenore, it was impossible not to approach every new acquaintance with a certain degree of suspicion and in the worst cases plain distrust. She was rich, her family powerful. She was a gateway for any potential friend into a lavish lifestyle and useful contacts. Naturally, Lenore was careful to whom she extended her friendship to, and with the exception of trusty family friends and relatives, she had few people around that she could fully rely upon.

Which is why Lenore always appreciated how lucky she was that Béatrice was assigned to be her personal maid. The young maid harbored unquestionable loyalty to her family, and yet Lenore never found it to be insincere in any way, shape or form. Béatrice joined her family’s service while she was very young, (both were just teenagers), and was the closest Lenore had to a friend around her same age.

Béatrice was very different when she first came into Lenore’s family’s mansion. Originally she was meant to be educated as a butler, after all. But well, she couldn’t stop looking at the maid’s dresses. It didn’t take long for her to try one for herself. At that point she never wanted to go back. It was even during tea time with Lenore that they were discussing new, fitting names and she settled on Béatrice.

The two had become inseparable. Lenore found in Béatrice someone she could confide in who had no ulterior motives, while Béatrice found in Lenore someone that she could talk about more things than just housework. Both loved hearing the other’s thoughts on any topic. Soon they realized that what they actually loved was the sound of the other’s voice.

Both realized, separately, that loving someone’s voice is, in fact, not a thing one has for just a mere friend. They both kept shut about it. All the while loving not just the sound of their voices but actually how they did things, how they moved, the way the sun shone on their eyes on certain hours of the day…

They loved each other. Simply put they loved each other.

But it was frustrating. If there was one thing, one thing at all, that both were unsure of was the reciprocity of their feelings.

What if she finds it inappropriate? What if our differences are too much of a barrier? She’s probably too busy to have time for intimacy anyway. All of these thoughts and more were on each other's heads from dawn to dusk.

Naturally the lengthy carriage ride to this apartment had been torturous to both. And the full projected ten-month-long stay in the capital city as Lenore sorted out a series of social events (including a staggering number of weddings and birthdays) and business deals (much less enjoyable than the former) had the potential to be nothing less than hell.

That was, of course, unless something or someone managed to bridge the two. Something that could spark a situation in which both let the social trappings that bound their feelings to let loose.

That catalyst was in the room right now. Lenore barely saw it, but Béatrice’s quick and trained reflexes managed to catch a glimpse of her, although at the time she simply discarded the seemingly impossible thought of a finger-sized girl scurrying around the floor.

“The apartment appears to be infested, My Lady” she said, rather coldly.

“Ah, well, that’s unfortunate” Lenore replied. She was a highly intelligent individual, but the tiredness from the trip, plus the unbearable tension she felt about Béatrice made her pay no attention to the fact no pest that she knew of wore a dress.

During the following weeks, Lenore’s thoughts became more distracted by balls and dinners and the weddings and birthdays rather than the possibility of having pests in her apartment. While on Béatrice’s hand, the thought was driving her insane.

Lenore was busy in a business meeting with some banker which Béatrice found of no true importance, as Lenore had been instructed to just refuse the deal in the most polite tone she could muster. What Béatrice found important were the two books in front of her displaying a discrepancy that simply could not be.

On her left was a ledger, which Béatrice kept diligently up to date as to keep the domestic economy of the two young women in check. The ledger displayed, on the particular page Béatrice was examining, the acquisition by the maid of the vegetables for the week. Béatrice being the borderline obsessive perfectionist that she was, she had taken the time to record both the weight of each bag as well as the total units of vegetables they contained. 

In this record, it read that she had bought exactly 567 grams of carrots, unevenly distributed in 8 units of carrots.

This would be just another boring entry in the ledger. If not for the book to Béatrice’s right, her personal diary, whose entry for yesterday’s night read the following:

‘The Lady Lenore’s mood has been down in the gutter as of recently. One could safely assume she’s been feeling burnt out by the burden of her social and business related obligations. Fortunately I can be of some help in this matter. The master cook of the manor didn’t accept my petition to carry his cook book with me to the capital, but did allow me to copy by hand the recipes for My Lady’s favourite dishes. I believe the beef stew will be perfect for tomorrow, due to the climate and overall atmosphere that was forecasted for tomorrow. In my admittedly childish excitement I went a few times to the kitchen to ensure the integrity of the ingredients and they’re all good!’

Béatrice's excited entry on her dairy gave way to a small list of the available ingredients. In which she happily reported there were seven carrots in storage, and the recipe only demanded four anyway.

And yet when she checked on the storage there were, exactly, 7 carrots.

Seven.

She had asked Lady Lenore before she left, she hasn’t eaten it. Béatrice herself never liked carrots to begin with. Something was off. She thought that maybe she was exaggerating and overthinking a simple managerial mistake. But those thoughts quickly gave way to what she thought was the root problem of this mysterious carrot disappearance: the pest.

Whatever it was, it was subtly and sneakily chipping away at their food. Béatrice brought the ledger with her to the storage room and checked. They were missing, strangely, a lot and almost nothing at the same time.

Almost nothing because the robbery took food almost by the gram. But a lot because it took *a lot* of said grams. They had been robbed for some reason of singular grapes, cubes of sugar, spoonfuls of rice, one cookie…

Béatrice took a moment to breathe and to unwind the pressure mounting up. While her heart told her she was going insane, her brain reinforced her suspicions with the raw facts in front of her: something was stealing their food.

And in a meticulous, certainly ‘non-pest’ kind of way.

Béatrice was left dumbfounded. The bizarreness of the situation was a little too much.

And it was about to become a lot more bizarre.

A sound came from behind the maid. The sound of glass shattering. Béatrice’s instincts flared up, adrenaline shot up her veins. Lessons about hand-to-hand combat repeating not in her head but instinctively in her muscles. She was the only one in the house. There was an intruder.

But as she turned around she found… nothing. At least not at first.

Behind her was the open door of the storage that lead into the kitchen. Nothing was blocking it. There was no one sneaking behind her. Her eyes looked down, searching the source of the shattered glass sound.

It was a small glass container. Among the broken glass was clove. It was the small clove jar. Clove is a spice so logically her eyes went up to the shelf where the rest of the spices where stored. There it was. The intruder was there. It was impossible but there it was. Or rather, there *she* was.

In between the jar of dried ginger and a jar of bay leafs was a space where the clove was supposed to be. It was currently occupied by a girl. A tiny, pinky-finger-sized girl.

And she was admittedly beautiful.

Her hair was the first thing that Béatrice noticed, as it was in truth the most noticeable of her features, for it was of a reddish brown that had a lot of contrast with her olive dress. Her big eyes being roughly of the same colour. 

Her expression, however, was of paralyzing fear, as if she had made the worst mistake in her life.

Béatrice and the strange intruder stared incredulously at each other for what felt like minutes to them, but it was close to five seconds.

Then the intruder started running.

But fast as she was (and she was admittedly pretty fast) Béatrice was considerably larger. For each ten to fifteen steps the little one made, the maid made half a sep. The adrenaline coursing through her blood made her move at almost superhuman speed. Quick as a lightning bolt, Béatrice snatches the intruder up in her closed fist.

Her heart was beating loudly and rapidly. She heard the muffled sound of tiny protests from the girl trapped in her hand as she struggled and squirmed in her closed fist.

Béatrice took a brief moment to process the impossibility of the situation. Once again, her brain was hard at work trying to convince her that there was, in fact, a tiny person in her hand. Once the adrenaline died down, and as her heartbeat slowed, her rational self regained full control.

In a few seconds Béatrice regained her composure. She straightened her back and took a deep breath. With the tiny girl still struggling, she searched for an empty jar. Then, she dropped the tiny girl there.

“Let me go!” Was the first audible and intelligible protest she made. Her voice sounded like that of a young adult. She fell gracefully into the jar, as if she had grown used to falling from heights.

Béatrice raised the jar to eye-level. The tiny girl’s bravado stopped suddenly, as if eye-contact reminded her that she was now on the maid’s complete mercy.

Still, Béatrice was looking at her not in a cold way, and not in a baffled, incredulous way either. She was instead staring rather curiously. Examining the little person’s body language, characteristics, looks, everything she could to better understand her. Until she realized that the creature spoke in her language… so the better way to understand her was to simply ask.

“What are you?” She finally said. To the little person’s surprise, there was no malice in her tone. Nor was she angry with her. She just sounded like a curious young woman. It was almost inviting.

And she decided to take the invitation.

“I’m a borrower” she said.

Béatrice’s eyes widened behind her glasses “I thought you were just a fairytale” she said “something children believe in”

“Well I’m not a fairytale and I’m telling you to let me go!” Said the borrower, growing bold again.

Béatrice smiled “Don’t worry, little one. I mean you no harm”

“Don’t you ‘little one’ me!” Barked the borrower.

“Oh. My deepest apologies, miss borrowers” said Béatrice, in a deeply respectful tone, as if she was talking with a noble guest to Lady Lenore “Can I bother you with your name”

The borrower sighed, as if the fact that her existence was revealed and she was a captive wasn’t enough of a humiliation, now the human was asking for her name. Still, it was known that on these cases, placating the big people was always the better course of action.

“Acorn” she said “My name’s Acorn”

Béatrice smiled sweetly “That’s a beautiful name” she said, sincerely “I’m Béatrice”

The borrower looked away from her eyes. “Thank you” she said, partially embarrassed that she was actually flattered by something a human said.

The maid maintained her sweet smile “I am very sorry, you’re probably not the most comfortable inside a glass jar”

“Oh, glad you noticed huh” replied Acorn.

Béatrice walked outside, past the kitchen, and back to her own room. Once safely in, she closed the door behind her and gently set the jar on her desk. Then she began tilting the jar, so that Acorn could climb and jump out on her own. Which the borrower did gracefully as a cat.

Acorn examined her surroundings still distrustful of the giant maid. Béatrice’s room was plain. A bed for one, a desk with an inkwell and some paper and pens. There was bookshelf filled with books on different topics, from novels to botanical science, astronomy, cooking. Acorn was actually impressed that the maid was so capable of handling such topics.

Béatrice took a seat on her desk’s chair, looming large over a slightly intimidated Acorn. She leaned in, letting her head rest on her hands as she got as low as possible while still sitting for the borrower.

Acorn could finally look at Béatrice’s face up close without the glass jar’s distortion. She didn’t want to admit it, but the maid was nothing short of beautiful. She was tall and sleek, with a long neck and straight black hair. The only point of colour in her whole being was the red frame of her glasses, from behind of which the maid’s bright green eyes looked in delight and curiosity at the borrower.

Béatrice was the first to speak.

“So, what exactly were you doing stealing our food, Miss Acorn?” She said, raising an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t stealing, I was just borrowing it, that’s what we do” replied a half indignated Acorn at the implication she was a mere thief.

“Borrowing it?” Asked Béatrice “I’m afraid there are a few problems with that”

“No they aren’t!” Barked Acorn.

Béatrice gently got up from her seat and went to the table. She searched for a book, browsing with her finger. Then, she pulled a big tome, the largest Acorn had seen in her life. It was plainly titled ‘Dictionary’.

Béatrice opened the book, scanning through the pages. This went on for a while until…

“Aha! So borrowing, noun, the action of borrowing something… ta ta ta… ah, to borrow, verb, to take and use something belonging to someone else with the intention of returning it” said a satisfied Béatrice, closing the book and returning it to its spot in the shelf.

“Uh… so I don’t see-“ began Acorn

“You were stealing food” interrupted Béatrice “I can hardly imagine how do you plan on returning something that you presumably consumed”

Acorn sighed sadly “there’s no need to shame me like that you know?”

“I’m not trying to shame you” Béatrice said, genuinely concerned with Acorn’s feelings “I get it, I have had to steal food befo-”

“I wasn’t stealing” Acorn corrected “I was borrowing it”

Béatrice sighed “Ah, have it your way, but as I was saying… look, you could just ask for the food. The amount you eat can be written off as an administrative mistake”

Acorn was a bit baffled by the maid’s statement. The possibility of an actual friendly big person was something entirely new for her, maybe just as the existence of borrowers was to the maid. Either way, she meditated on it for a while.

“So, what if I ask for food?” She said.

The maid had felt it when she grabbed the borrower. The little one was hungry. She had felt ot in her hand, she could almost feel the borrower’s individual bones. She had gone through that experience, she couldn’t let someone go through that if she could stop it.

“If you ask, we can just make a space for you at our table” she said.

Acorn’s stomach growled and ached. She hoped Béatrice hadn’t heard it, nor seen her slight wince of pain. The maid’s senses were keen, however. And she took notice, as it showed on her now concerned face.

“Oh dear, you… you need something to eat, fast” said Béatrice.

“Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it…” she said, hiding her pain the best she could.

But Béatrice wasn’t easily fooled. She offered her hand for the borrower to jump in.

“Come to the kitchen with me, please”

Acorn’s head was evaluating a world of possibilities. What if she was planning to cook her? What if she drowned her in a bucket of water? Or what if she was going to throw her out of the window? Or what if…?

She shook her head. She was very hungry. So she decided with her stomach this time, and jumped into Béatrice’s open palm.

The maid traversed the apartment quickly to get to the kitchen as soon as possible. She let her borrower passenger jump off at the kitchen’s table while she rapidly checked the coals in the stove were still burning. Then, she went into the storage, and came out with some hen’s eggs, butter and salt.

Béatrice took a pan out of a cabinet and placed it on the stove, cutting some butter for the eggs. Acorn just sat silently, and let the maid cook the food peacefully.

Once they were done, she set them on a plate with some bread, and sat with Acorn. The borrower wanted to jump and swim in the creamy warm eggs and eat it whole, but she had to maintain her dignity. She didn’t want to leave a bad impressionon her new acquaintance. So she slowly took out a minuscule piece of bread and spread some of the eggs in it.

And it was delicious.

It was the best thing she had eaten in her life.

“I hope it’s to your liking, I know they’re some simple scrambled eggs but-“

“It’s perfect, really, it’s perfect” said Acorn, with her mouth full.

Béatrice smiled, satisfied, and spread some egg on some piece of bread for herself.

“Why are you so good to me?” Said the borrower, holding back tears.

“You remind me a bit of myself” said Béatrice.

Acorn didn’t think too much of it. She was very busy eating. But Béatrice did. Her time as an urchin in the city. Before Lenore came into her life…

But she didn’t want to reminisce now, she had done a good thing and that was enough. Although there was a slight craving growing in her right now. She needed to indulge it.

“Do you… mind if I do something, Acorn?”

“Do… what exactly?”

I want to pet her so fucking bad. Béatrice thought.

“May I, caress you?”

“Oh… eh…” Acorn was trying to avoid the thought, but what if? What if it felt really good?

What if it felt really, really good?

“Alright… I suppose the eggs merit it” she said “go ahead”

Béatrice reached for her, trying to not to do any sudden move, nothing that could scare her new little friend. Her fingers started tenderly stroking Acorn’s back.

It took a lot of restraint not to lean in and kiss her.

Acorn herself was trying her damned best not to show how much she was actually enjoying herself.

Both were starting to feel… entranced by the other.

So entranced indeed that neither heard the door opening. They didn’t hear Lenore walking to the kitchen either. Béatrice only noticed because of the bright pink dress she was wearing.

Lenore’s blue eyes were directly locked onto the borrower. Neither of the three spoke a word.

But Lenore didn’t have to rationalize every little thing. She didn’t have this need that Béatrice had of having to convince herself of the facts. No, Lenore simply walked to the kitchen’s table, sat down, and leaned as close as possible while respecting Acorn’s personal space.

“You’re ADORABLE” she said to the borrower.

Béatrice trance was broken by this point “L-Lady Lenore! S-so early…?”

“Ah don’t get me started on that boring meeting with the banker, introduce me to your adorable new little friend first!”

“O-of course!” Béatrice regained her composure as a maid “My Lady, let me formally introduce you to Acorn, she’s uh… a guest”

“I live under the floor, Béatrice..”

“Aww, the floor isn’t an appropriate place for someone as cute as you” said Lady Lenore “you’d be a lot better off as a guest of this house!”

“I appreciate your offer but-“

“Aw just look at her, Bea!” Said Lenore, almost kicking the air out of how cute she found the borrower to be “isn’t she the sweetest!”

Lenore’s compliments had the borrower completely smitten. Acorn had spent a lifetime running away from humans, avoiding their traps, and getting almost killed by them several times and yet she somehow had these two bewitched.

And she couldn’t say the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Béatrice might just have been the prettiest girl Acorn had ever seen but Lenore was a close second. She barely knew her for probably a minute and yet the way she dominated the room was… well Acorn hadn’t seen anything like that before.

Lenore leaned in a bit closer, making sure Acorn was seeing what Lenore considered to be the prettiest angle of her face, and asked “And what can I do to make this little sweetie stay?”

Acorn’s heart was beating like a drum “Uh… ah… I d-don’t know…” she said, her face visibly getting red.

“My Lady, what are you proposing?” Asked Béatrice.

“Oh well, showing out little guest some hospitality, that’s all…” she said, leaning in to kiss Acorn’s head.

Béatrice gasped and Acorn froze, but she liked it. In fact she loved it, in fact she found herself hugging Lenore’s lips as she kissed her.

Lady Lenore backed, leaving a small trail of saliva between her mouth and Acorn’s saliva covered face. The borrower was completely stunned, so overwhelmed by the situation that it made her incapable of speech.

“Did you like that?” Asked Lenore.

Acorn simply nodded.

“Would you like more?”

Acorn nodded energetically.

And so Lenore leaned in for a kiss again, this time, however, she was even bolder, licking the entirety of Acorn’s tiny face with her wet, warm tongue, an experience in which the borrower rejoiced,

Lenore’s eyes went to her maid, who was looking at the entire situation in stupor. The young mistress smiled to her maid. And then looked back at the stunned borrower in the table.

“Isn’t my little Béatrice pretty, Acorn?” Said Lenore.

Acorn nodded again.

“Would you like her to kiss you?”

“M-MY LADY WHA-“ but Béatrice wasn’t able to finish her sentence, as she was distracted by the borrower’s reaction.

Acorn had to start breathing through her mouth. She wanted to say yes so badly but limited herself to nodding again.

“Come here Béa! Our little guest has spoken!” Said Lenore motioning for Béatrice to lean in.

The maid shyly leaned towards Acorn. The borrower’s face was completely covered in a little film of Lenore’s saliva. Her heart was racing. Not only because of kissing the borrower, but for indirectly kissing her young mistress.

Her first kiss was soft, elegant, as she was. It was brief but it enchanted both the borrower and the maid, as well as the young mistress looking in amusement at the pair. Her second kiss was longer, and this time she let her lips taste the shape of Acorn’s face. By the third kiss she had begun using her tongue, tasting both of Lenore’s saliva and under that the innate taste of Acorn’s body. Then a fourth kiss, then a fifth and a sixth…

“My, my, a little enamoured with our most esteemed little guest aren’t we, my sweet Bea?”

Béatrice didn’t realize she had too started breathing with her mouth.

“Why don’t we go to my room for a while?” Proposed Lenore.

A few moments later the three would be in the apartment’s master bedroom. Lenore was first to enter, followed by Béatrice, who in turn was carrying Acorn in her hand.

“Help me with my dress, Bea” said Lenore.

Béatrice didn’t answer, but she went to Lenore’s back and unzipped her long pink dress. The young mistress was left in her underwear, just a white bra and panties.

This was… what she wanted. At least just once. To shake away the barrier between them.

“Give Acorn to me and I’ll help with yours” said Lenore, with a voice that might as well had been covered in honey.

Béatrice was ready to hand her over into Lenore’s hands but she didn’t have them up, she just looked her in the eyes, smiling. Béatrice read the queue, and placed Acorn on her mistress’ cleavage.

Acorn was about to explode. Lenore’s chubby body made her breasts massive or at least massive in comparison to the borrower. Her breathing accelerated as she noticed she had to actively hang on to Lenore’s breasts to keep her from falling down deeper into her flesh.

Meanwhile, Lenore was unzipping Béatrice’s dress. The elegant maid uniform fell to the floor to reveal Béatrice’s lanky body.

“You’re so beautiful, little Bea…” Lenore said, inviting her to her bed. It was large, fancy, and certainly big enough for three normal sized people, so it had ample space for two humans and a finger-sized borrower.

Lenore gently set Acorn on the bed, letting her hop off her hand. “Your turn little one” she said.

Acorn was beginning to take her little dress off, but she was stopped by Béatrice’s fingers.

“Let me help” she said.

Acorn stopped moving. Béatrice dexterously removed her dress completely. It was actually amazing she did. Under it Acorn wore no underwear.

Lenore leaned for another kiss, the bolder yet, as this time she licked the entirety of Acorn’s body and lifted her into her mouth with her tongue. She gently pushed Béatrice down into the bed.

Béatrice hoped this wasn’t a dream.

Her young mistress laid on top of her body. Then she kissed her, with the borrower still on her mouth.

The maid could only wonder as how it would feel to be Acorn right now. To be so small and yet so lovingly encased within two caverns of flesh. To be so close to meeting one’s demise by accident, by being swallowed or by a mouth closing in too hard and yet to trust both of them completely.

Acorn, on her part, could never imagine she would willingly enter a human’s mouth. That she would willingly give herself up to these kind of games. But it was fun to play. And she wanted more.

Never before had she felt this aroused. She grabbed onto the interlocking tongues, rubbing her body against them. Lenore at first, then Béatrice. The three dancing in the name of excitement and desire. She had been turned around so many times that at one point she forgot whose mouth was supposed to be whose.

She couldn’t keep it in. She moaned loudly. And let both tongues taste her fluids.

At this point lips closed on her back and one of the tongues left. She felt movement. When the mouth opened again she was dropped on someone’s belly.

Lenore’s. This is Lenore’s tummy. She thought. The first time a cohesive thought that could be put into words came to Acorn’s head.

Béatrice was above them. Looking like she too was having a hard time thinking with all the lust clouding her head.

“Please… continue… I want you…” said Lenore.

“Yes… My Lady” barely said Béatrice.

“But… I want Acorn in too…”

Acorn knew what it meant. Lenore made no actual command but Acorn obeyed nonetheless. The young mistress smiled, satisfied knowing that the borrower could read her like that. Acorn half walked half crawled towards Lenore’s panties and got inside, between the white fabric and the wet flesh.

But then the panties where removed and Acorn found herself between Lenore’s wet flesh and the soft flesh of Béatrice’s girl dick, which she was rubbing and grinding against Lenore’s pussy.

Béatrice was refined and elegant even in these moments, as every thrust was made following a meticulous rhythm in connection with Lenore’s pleasure. Even in love she lived to serve her needs.

For Acorn, the experience inside the mouths was enough to be of world shattering implications. So when it came to her place here in between the passionate dance of Béatrice’s dick it felt of no consequence. She had already overloaded. She wasn’t going to spend this time thinking on how afraid of humans she once was. Now all she could think of was where to contribute to both women's pleasure.

The borrower squirmed between the two girls, climbing a little up Lenore’s flesh, until she was right against her clit. Acorn felt the entirety of Lenore’s body tremble in pleasure. All while Béatrice’s dick was still grinding her against Lenore.

At this moment it was simply too much for all involved. Acorn, Lenore and Béatrice all came roughly at the same time. The room was filled with loud delectable moans for a few seconds, and then Béatrice collapsed on the bed, at Lenore’s side.

“Oh dear… I’m sorry… I made a terrible mess…” she said, in between breaths and referring to the exhausted borrower covered in her load crawling out of Lenore’s intimate flesh.

“Ah… ah… d-don’t worry about it…” said Acorn’s tired voice, doing all she could to reach Lenore’s tummy on her all fours.

Lenore was smiling and satisfied. Both to have broken the tension between her and her maid, and to have made a new friend. It was also a very tiring and boring day, filled with endless meetings and empty pleasantries, and this was the best way she could dream of unwinding it.

“So… what say you now, sweetie, will you stay with us?” Said Lenore.

Acorn had settled for a point slightly above Lenore’s belly button to fall on her back and rest, leaving a trail of Béatrice’s cum all over the young mistress’ abdomen. She took some seconds to breath before answering.

“I’ll… I’ll…” began Acorn, trying her best not to reveal she just had the best experience in her life “I’ll think about it…”

The borrower fell silent, and closed her eyes smiling.

“I’ll bring a towel for our guest… before the… uh… ‘substances’ dry up…” said Béatrice, standing up from the bed “A hand towel will suffice”

Béatrice left the room and returned with a wet towel, ready to help the borrower clean herself up from all the fluids she spread on her. But once she returned both her mistress and the borrower on top of her were sleeping, exhausted and well pleased.

She couldn’t resist the thought. Acorn looked the cutest while naked, sleeping and completely blanketed by her love. She was sleeping just so peacefully, so calm, so loved.

A maid’s duty, it seems, never truly ended. She cleaned Acorn’s body gracefully and impressively this only half woke the borrower up and she returned to a completely asleep state as soon as Béatrice’s hands were off her.

Now, if she let the two sleep like that on this weather they would end up catching a cold. So she carefully picked Acorn up by the waist and set her gently beside Lenore’s face. It was safe, She knew her young mistress never rolled in her sleep.

Then as to not disturb her young mistress’ sleep, she went for a blanket in the closet, and managed to cover both women with it.

Once both were comfortable, Béatrice stretched and slipped back into her working uniform.

After all they wouldn’t be asleep forever and they would certainly be hungry once they woke up. Béatrice went to the kitchen and pondered her options.

She really hoped Acorn would appreciate the stew as much as Lenore did.

Béatrice began preparing herself some tea. And as the water boiled she began wondering.

Was what she did wrong? Was loving one’s mistress wrong?

But she soon found out the implications of what she did didn’t affect her. She loved Lenore. That was all there was to it.

And while certainly she couldn’t call it *love* yet, she was totally enamoured with the borrower.

As she poured herself some sweet tea she wondered when they could do that again.

But not now. She had work to do.

She wouldn’t let her mistress and a guest to their house go hungry.