Just dominate me queen

The tension in the room was suffocating, my back still aching from the strikes of her whip. Liora reclined on her chaise like a smug little empress, her blue eyes flickering with amusement. My hands were still bound, and I had to fight the instinct to lash out or scream. That wouldn't get me anywhere—not with someone like her. No, the only way out of this was through, and I had to play the game.
"You really are amazing, Your Majesty," I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "I've never met anyone so...commanding. So powerful."
Her lips curled into a smirk, and she adjusted the ribbons on her pigtails with exaggerated grace. "It's about time you realized that. Most men are so dull, but at least you can recognize greatness when you see it."
"Absolutely," I said, nodding fervently. "I mean, look at you. You've got everything—beauty, intelligence, authority. It's honestly intimidating."
Liora tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You're just saying that to get on my good side."
"Not at all!" I protested, feigning shock. "You're not just anyone, Your Majesty. You're a queen. It's only right that I acknowledge your...superiority."
Her smirk widened, and I could practically see her ego inflating before my eyes. "Well, I suppose it's only natural for someone as insignificant as you to feel overwhelmed in my presence."
"Completely overwhelmed," I agreed, laying it on thick. "Honestly, I don't know how anyone can keep their composure around you. You're...magnificent."
She waved a hand dismissively, but her flushed cheeks betrayed how much she was enjoying the praise. "Hmph. At least you're learning."
"More than that," I said quickly, leaning forward as much as my bindings allowed. "I want to serve you properly. To show you how grateful I am for your mercy and...and your guidance."
Her blue eyes sparkled, and she leaned back against the chaise, clearly savoring every word. "Go on."
"You deserve the best, Your Majesty," I said, my voice steady but deferential. "If you release me, I'd like to prove my loyalty. To serve you however you see fit."
Liora's smirk turned thoughtful, and she tapped her chin with one delicate finger. "You're awfully eager, aren't you? But flattery alone won't win my favor."
"Of course not," I said, bowing my head. "Actions speak louder than words, after all."
She studied me for a long moment, her gaze sharp but tinged with curiosity. Finally, she snapped her fingers, and the glowing ropes around my wrists dissolved into thin air. My hands dropped to my sides, and I resisted the urge to rub the raw skin where the bindings had been.
"Very well," she said, her tone imperious. "You may begin by giving me a massage. If you please me, I may consider letting you remain unbound."
I bit back a retort and forced a smile instead. "Thank you, Your Majesty. It's an honor."
She lay on her stomach, her ribbons trailing over the edge of the chaise, and rested her chin on her hands. "Get to it, then," she said with a dismissive wave.
I moved closer, my movements slow and deliberate, and knelt beside her. My hands hovered over her shoulders for a moment, and I took a deep breath before beginning. Her skin was smooth and warm beneath my fingers, her petite frame surprisingly tense for someone who carried herself with so much arrogance.
I started with her shoulders, kneading gently at first, testing how much pressure she could handle. Liora let out a soft sigh, and I took that as a good sign.
"Hmm," she murmured, her voice quieter than usual. "You're...not entirely useless."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said, keeping my tone humble. "It's an honor to serve you."
She didn't respond immediately, her eyes half-closed as I worked my way down her back. I focused on staying calm, hiding the frustration and humiliation bubbling just beneath the surface. This wasn't about pride or ego—it was about survival.
"You're better at this than I expected," she said after a while, her voice losing some of its usual edge. "Most men would be fumbling all over the place by now."
"I only want to make you happy, Your Majesty," I said, my hands moving to the base of her neck. "You deserve nothing less."
She let out a soft hum of approval, her body relaxing under my touch. The whip marks on my back throbbed with every movement, but I ignored the pain, focusing instead on keeping her content.
"Perhaps I was too harsh on you earlier," she said, her tone almost contemplative. "You might have potential after all."
"I'm grateful for your kindness," I said, the words bitter on my tongue. "It's an honor to be in your presence."
Liora smiled, her smugness returning in full force. "Yes, it is. Don't forget that."
She let out another sigh, her posture completely relaxed now. "I suppose I'll allow you to stay unbound...for now. But don't get any ideas. You're still mine."
"Of course, Your Majesty," I said, bowing my head. "I live to serve."
Her laugh was soft, almost content, and she waved a hand dismissively. "That's enough for now. You may rest—if I need you again, I'll call for you."
I stepped back, my body aching but my mind racing. For now, I'd played the part she wanted, but I knew this wasn't over. Liora might have been pleased for the moment, but her arrogance would be her downfall.
I just had to be patient.
***
The room they'd given me was surprisingly comfortable. It wasn't much—a small bed, a wooden desk, and a wardrobe—but it was leagues better than being tied up on the floor of Liora's throne room. The soft glow of a single lantern illuminated the simple stone walls, giving the space a cozy, if slightly claustrophobic, vibe.
I was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing my sore wrists and wondering how the hell I'd gotten myself into this mess when there was a soft knock at the door.
"Come in," I said hesitantly, half-expecting one of Liora's smug guards to barge in with more bad news.
Instead, the door opened slowly, and a girl stepped inside. My jaw nearly hit the floor.
She was a Dog Beastkin, her golden-brown fur soft and sleek, covering her slender canine head. Her floppy ears twitched slightly, framing her delicate face with its small black nose and expressive hazel eyes that shimmered with a mix of shyness and warmth. Her golden-brown fur transitioned into slightly darker, silky hair tied back in a loose bun, with a few strands brushing against her long neck.
What really caught my attention, though, was her outfit. She was dressed in a traditional French maid's uniform—a black dress with white lace trim, a flowing skirt that ended just above her knees, and stockings that clung snugly to her curvy legs. A white apron was tied neatly around her waist, and a lace headband rested on her head, just behind her floppy ears. A small silver choker adorned her neck, with a delicate tag that jingled softly as she moved.
Her petite frame was undeniably feminine, with a modest but noticeable melons that fit perfectly with her delicate build. Her fluffy, curled tail swayed nervously behind her, as though unsure whether to wag or tuck itself away.
"Um...excuse me," she said, her voice soft and hesitant. She closed the door behind her, clutching a tray with a steaming teapot and a single cup. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir. I was told to bring you tea."
I blinked, still trying to process the fact that she was standing in front of me. "Uh...thanks?" I said, unsure of what else to say.
She stepped forward cautiously, her head lowered slightly as if she was afraid of making eye contact. "My name is Lyra," she said quietly, setting the tray down on the desk. "I'm here to assist you during your stay."
"Lyra," I repeated, staring at her. "You're...a maid?"
She nodded, her ears twitching. "Yes, sir."
I frowned, glancing around the room as if expecting someone to jump out and yell, "Gotcha!" This whole world was upside down—matriarchal, with women taking all the assertive, dangerous roles while men were treated as soft and submissive. And yet, here she was—a Dog Beastkin girl, dressed like a walking stereotype of submissiveness.
"You're serious?" I said, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice. "You're actually a maid?"
Her ears drooped slightly, and she looked down at the tray. "Yes, sir. Is...is there something wrong?"
"No, no, it's just..." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to figure out how to word this without offending her. "It's just surprising, you know? I mean, in a world like this, I didn't think I'd meet someone like you."
She tilted her head slightly, her hazel eyes glancing up at me. "Someone like me?"
"Yeah," I said, gesturing vaguely. "You know...a submissive girl. In this world, it feels like everyone's trying to be the boss."
Her cheeks—or what I assumed were her cheeks under all that fur—seemed to darken slightly, and she wrung her hands together. "I...I'm sorry, sir. I don't mean to disappoint you."
"Disappoint me?" I said, startled. "No, that's not what I meant. You're fine—I mean, you're doing great. I just...I didn't expect it, that's all."
"Oh," she said softly, her tail wagging just a little. "Thank you, sir."
There was an awkward silence as she poured the tea, her movements precise and careful. I watched her closely, still trying to wrap my head around the situation. She was so...different from everyone else I'd met here. Quiet, polite, almost timid. It was strange, but in a way, it was also refreshing.
"So," I said, breaking the silence, "do you, uh, like your job?"
She glanced at me, her hazel eyes wide. "Oh, yes, sir. I love serving others. It's...what I'm good at."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. There was no sarcasm or bitterness in her tone—just genuine sincerity. She actually enjoyed this, which only made me feel worse for assuming otherwise.
"Well, that's...good," I said, feeling awkward. "I guess it's nice to do something you're good at."
She nodded, her floppy ears bouncing slightly. "Yes, sir. I just want to be useful."
"You are," I said before I could stop myself. "I mean, I haven't been here long, but you're already making things a little easier. So...thanks."
Her tail wagged a little more, and she bowed her head. "You're very kind, sir."
Kind wasn't the word I'd use. Confused, maybe. A little guilty. But as I watched her tidy up the room with quick, efficient movements, I couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief. For the first time since I'd arrived in this crazy world, I wasn't being yelled at, whipped, or dragged around by someone who saw me as a toy. Lyra was...different. And I wasn't sure what to make of that.
Q: Would you want a maid like Lyra?