Maid-Squire Varrot

Author's Note: I used a string of - in my first chapter to show a whole new scene change. I introduce two new dividers in this chapter. * is for a time progression in the same set of events. ~ is for an imaginary or fantasy set of events. All of that might be obvious, but I wanted to explain it for any who don't see it themselves.
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Messy apartments were one thing. The disaster zone known as Freesia's quarters was something else.

Succumbing to the need for self-pleasure amid what barely passed for livable jumped to a different scale of absurd altogether.

Varrot cursed Cherry and Ramona as she thrust the broom handle deep into her puffed red sex. A faint pink glow flashed to memory, reminding her of the first of many times she had to seek what vaguely constituted privacy. Yesterday, Jann's constant swooning over Largo and what he envisioned as Largo's 'sexy anti-virgin lance' gave Varrot the most disturbing masturbatory aid she'd ever had the displeasure of hearing, hidden away behind a full potted plant with the duster as her sole companion.

She gauged her predicament while looking out across Freesia's reams of dirty discarded clothes, many covered with a certain chalky white 'embroidering' with origins she tried damn hard not to remember. The dissipation of her tart-ish blonde and pink re-coloring by the trendy trio was a godsend, but her view quickly shifted to silent pleas for a reversal, her insatiable lust harder to manage day by day. Her staunch refusal to become the likes of Freesia made her trusty maid tools the only relief she could afford to carry, despite the disgust she felt for her growing familiarity with the tools as an extension of herself. Deeper and deeper it penetrated, exploring parts of her she'd disallowed to her sniper rifle during EWI. Heat pooled off her chest and emanated from her loins as she pumped. Harder, stronger, faster, the broom slid in...

"I thought Elle said she was cleaning my room?"

Her heart pounded against the wall of her chest, ready to burst out at the fear of being caught by Freesia of all people. Pulling the broom out faster than the pull of a rifle trigger, Varrot pulled her panties up into place and leapt to her feet from behind the clothes pile, saluting her superior in the expected show of respect.

"Private York, I have begun cleaning your room and should have it complete within the next hour, ma'am."

"That's what you said half an hour ago."

Cleverly obscuring her shaky legs behind the pile, Varrot stood tall and firm. A tiny lurch in arousal nearly made her knees buckle free, and a moan lurked at the back of her throat ready to lunge forth should she open her mouth. She waited, tension rising to her chest...

"Have it done by tonight, okay Elle?" Freesia commanded. "I have another partner tonight and I don't want him to see my place like this when he comes by to dance. Do good work and I might even teach you. Trust me, you get better tips as a dancer than as a maid-squire."

Freesia exited, closing the door behind her. Granted a reprieve from interaction with the 'Dancer of the Sands', Varrot lifted a sock to her face and sneered, the offending garment held by thumb and forefinger as it dripped fresh with spunk. Gathering up a small bundle of sullied garb, she sat on the bed on the tiny, safe spot she'd brushed out for herself and ran the sock into the soapy water of a large bucket she'd filled when she started on the room. Watching the goopy seed of Freesia's last 'partner' float to a tiny clearing in the bubble surface, Varrot took some small solace in the knowledge that cleaning up after a woman so footloose and fancy free would be the worst of her duties.

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"Please do be careful with those books, Miss Varrot. I need them for my studies after the war."

"Your collection is in good hands. If there's one thing I know how to do exceedingly well, it's take care of cherished books. You should see my study."

"Oh I have! It's beautiful! I can't imagine you've read ALL of them."

"An educated mind is a strong one."

Varrot smiled, gladly, at the microbiology student made scout through Universal Conscription. Her trying ordeal with some of the squad members had been like a bad nightmare; the steadfast, intellectually promising Juno felt like a burst of sunshine in the dark crevice of her service as maid-squire. Unlike the heavy workload saddled onto her by Freesia, or the blatant disregard for her individuality that Ramona and Cherry showed, Juno exuded respect toward her regardless of her station. Her room said it best for her, its appearance so spic and span that it was hard to believe that it needed any further work. Alas, a list penned by the illustrious blonde rested on the desk for her to refer to at every step.

"Very true, Miss Varrot," Juno jarred her back to present concerns. "Unfortunately, I have to go train with the Drill Instructor. I wish I could be you for a day, instead of going through all this tedious and gritty training all the time."

"A healthy mind needs a healthy body," it felt odd to come from her lips; though she supported her squad in all matters, Varrot rarely trained these days, her efforts until now geared toward expanding her tactical mind. An effort that felt wasted during the last discussion she had with General Damon before the court proceedings, every attempt to show him the best course of action leading to another rude remark about 'country bumpkins' and the ignorance of the militia.

Though it successfully motivated Juno as she left for the training field, Varrot reflected on the difference in how she would have felt saying that same line as a commanding officer compared to how it felt with her current status: lowly. Dusting Juno's bookshelf, she failed to overcome the bourgeoning sense that she had been demoted from guide to unworthy servant, giving advice to a woman that HAD to be her intellectual better by virtue of her status. She envisioned it cleanly, and the thought frightened her.

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"Private Juno, for your lighting needs, might I suggest ragnite?"

"One would think ragnite makes the perfect solution for free lighting with its glow," Juno explained, "but that train of thought is a rank error in judgment. The light does not glow bright enough to use for reading."

"I-I'm sorry Private Juno!" Varrot lamented. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"It's okay Maid-Squire Elle, I know you try. Your failings are no fault of your own. In the future, I suggest that you leave forethought to your intellectual betters. With that matter settled, would you kindly fetch a candle and ragnite lighter?"

"Sure thing Private Juno! Being around you is such an honor, I just wish I could hold a conversation with you that didn't end in me ashamedly showing my ignorance."

"We all have talents, Maid-Squire Elle. There is no shame in sticking to what you do best."

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Shivering out the abhorrent imagery, she picked up the book from Juno's desk, slid it into the last empty slot on the shelf and turned to read the next item of the list when she saw the envelope beside it.

"What's this?" Varrot lifted it closer and read the name on the front. "Welkin? It's clearly a letter to him... does she want me to send it?"

Perusing the list, she puzzled over no mention of the written and sealed letter. Many different reasons and purposes for the letter came to her, each one perfectly sound. What if the letter revealed personal information that Juno wasn't ready to share? What if it said everything it needed to say, and Juno forgot to explain it or add it to the list? What if it gave an assessment of dire military needs that couldn't wait another second? Thinking long and hard about every variable she could recall of the situation, she came to a sudden and simple conclusion.

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"Varroooooot!"

She turned on her heels at the shriek, blushing and pulling her skirt down when she noticed it had tucked into her panties from an earlier small foray into self-pleasure. She managed to catch it just in time to hide it from a red-faced Juno, who stormed into the room with a face twisted so furiously that she literally fumed.

Taken aback by such rage, Varrot shrank back a little and fixed the glasses on her face. "What's wrong, Private Juno?"

"You won't to know what's wrong? YOU, want to know what's wrong?" Juno seethed, her countenance shifting to scary laughter and back to a blank slate of rage. "You sent Welkin my letter! What were you thinking?!"

"I.. I..." Varrot froze, stuttering her answer. "The list..."

"The list?" Juno plucked it from the desk and waved it in her face. "Do you SEE 'deliver highly embarrassing letter expounding Juno's love for the commander of the squad to him so Juno can look like a silly little fangirl to him and the rest of the squad' on the list? Ugh! What incompetence! He wants to see me in his quarters, and when I get back, you and I are going to have a little talk, Maid-Squire Elle."

Watching Juno stomp off, Varrot couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the abominable fantasy of her relationship to Juno was in some small part accurate.


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Story codes: Other (maid duties; one sexually messy person)