Deliver Boy-Turned-Submissive-Maid


The best thing about Sora’s dead-end job as a delivery boy is when he has to make a delivery to the high-end Grand Hotel Suzaku. One night, an everyday delivery becomes a rare opportunity when one of the hotel “maids” assigned to a rich, foreign businessman falls sick. Sora is chosen to fill in for her, but is he too hotheaded to act like the obedient servant the mysterious guest wants him to be? And just why does he feel so right when he slips into the skimpy outfit all of the maids have to wear? It might not take much after all for a firebrand like Sora to get on his knees for the very generous Mr. Reston.

This 5700 word, crossdressing, feminization, MM, billionaire, foot fetish, submission, interracial erotica is for mature readers only. It also comes with a free excerpt from another sexy tale!

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I arrived at the hotel at 4:45 pm, and Aki rolled her eyes when she saw me walk through the door.

“Of course you’re early,” she said.

“The early riser is paid more,” I said, without missing a beat.

She started to laugh. I was always the more impatient of the two of us.

“So where’s all this money coming from? If you dragged me all the way out here on my day off to give me that nonsense about becoming a maid again, I am never going to forgive you.”

Aki cleared her throat, and a serious shadow was cast over her face. “Yesterday, that was a joke. Today, it’s the reason you could bring home much more than 2500 yen.”

“What the hell?” I started to turn. “I’m getting out of here.”

“No, Sora, listen to me. One of our maids is out sick. And the reason I was laughing earlier… Well, this particular maid was assigned to none other than last night’s check-in. Mr. Reston. You know Suzaku policy. ‘In order to create the most luxurious experience, your maid will be devoted to you and only you during your stay.’ We have no one else to send him.” She sighed and lowered her voice. “I truly meant what I said the other night. Look at yourself! I would kill for a face like that. You would make a better woman than you do a man. By the way you were looking at him last night, I thought you might be interested.”

“I was not looking at him in any special way,” I huffed.

“Even if you say that, you can’t really deny it.”

“Don’t maids have to…” I threw my hands up in the air. “You’re not going to make me say it, are you?”

Aki smiled. “Yes, that’s the implication. But some of our guests don’t indulge. Some of them come here for the rooftop pool. Who knows? Maybe Mr. Reston has a wife waiting for him back in America.”

I turned the thought over in my head. Mr. Reston did seem to be on the charismatic and gentler side of the Suzaku’s usual clientele. Besides, if you were as tall and handsome as he was, you wouldn’t need to spend money on a maid, right?

“What do I have to do?” I asked.

And Aki beamed at me.

I understood why she told me to get to the Grand Hotel in the early evening. We spent the next few hours in the maids’ quarters, getting me ready. It turned out that I wasn’t the only male maid in the building. I had scrolled through photos of them all on the website, and I never would have been able to tell.

Aki was having the time of her life dressing me up in different wigs and outfits.

“I’m not your doll, you know,” I muttered at one point.

“No, you’re right. This is much more fun. Be careful after this, Sora, I might just ask you to be my girlfriend when this is all over.”

My reply was cut off as she tightened a corset around my waist.

“I always imagined them wearing French Maid outfits,” I told her as she placed wig number eight on my head.

“That’s boring and expected,” Aki said, “and the Grand Hotel Suzaku did not get five stars for being boring and expected.”

Eventually, she stood back, admired her work, and whistled.

“Well?” I asked.

I hadn’t felt nervous like that in a long time. I was usually so confident, but something about this made me antsy.

“I’m a genius,” Aki replied. She turned me around and pushed me out of the room. “No more time to waste, we’ve got to get you up to Mr. Reston’s!”

“Don’t I get to look in the mirror first? Hey, watch where your hands are going.”

“Get used to it, Sora. No, just trust me, you look fine.”

She hurried me over to the elevator and told me Mr. Reston’s room number.

“Remember,” she said as the doors started to close, “do what he tells you to do. None of your complaining. Good luck!”

And with that, my first night as a maid began.


The door opened, and I was surprised to see Mr. Reston standing there still decked out in a suit and tie. He gawked at me, and I wished that Aki had given me the chance to look in the mirror before sending me up. Then, as if he remembered something, he snapped his fingers and pointed at me.

That’s right,” he said, in English. “You’re the maid, right?”

I knew what he was saying. I even had an answer for him. But for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to say yes. Mr. Reston’s eyes were green. It’s a shade that you didn’t see very much in Tokyo. Even if the trendy youth went with colored contact lenses, they would usually go for something like a blue. I think it made them look very alien. Compared to Mr. Reston’s green, anyway, which was quite inviting.

He tapped himself on the forehead when I failed to say anything at once.

“My apologies, miss,” he said, reverting to Japanese. “I just finished a video call with a colleague in Houston. Have you ever been there? Ah, what am I doing? I am always, er, putting the cart before the horse. If you know the expression. Please, come in. I do not know how much they told you, but my name is Sam Reston. You can call me Sam, if that pleases you.”

I blinked. I tried to suppress a smile. That was an American for you. Always moving at the speed of light.

I can understand,” I snapped. “My name is Sora. I will call you Mr. Reston. ‘Sam’ is toofamiliar?”

I think I might have said more harshly than I intended. Back then I didn’t have the best handle on the idiosyncrasies of English tone. Nonetheless, the look of shock on Mr. Reston’s face quickly turned into one of pleasant surprise. Still, he stuck to Japanese.

“Yes, familiar is the right word. Nice to meet you, Sora. A beautiful name for a beautiful maiden. I thought that since you were just a maid… Excuse me, I misspeak. I apologize for assuming.”

My next words were out of my mouth before I knew it.

“Well, you’re already apologizing every other sentence, so I see you don’t need any lessons in Japanese.”

I clamped my hand over my mouth. I thought for sure he was going to send me away after that quip. I would have never lived down the embarrassment of facing Aki mere minutes after climbing up to Mr. Reston’s room.

Surprising me, instead he laughed. “Well, if I was going to have a maid provided to me by the Suzaku, I’m glad they sent a fiery one. Would you like something to drink? I’m afraid that there isn’t anything to clean.”

I followed him to the kitchen island and took a seat on one of the stools. The rooms of the Grand Hotel Suzaku were definitely worth their price. The penthouse rooms each came with a massive living area, a fully-equipped kitchen, a bedroom with a walk-in closet, and a jacuzzi in the bathroom. The cherry on top? Each room was unique, designed by interior designers from all over the world. Mr. Reston’s room was one of the more drab ones, I thought. Muted brown walls, dim lighting, and minimal extra decorations. A single vase sat on the dining room table, stocked with a single drooping flower.

“Is that a joke?” I asked.

“About the cleaning?” He stopped digging in the cabinets for a moment and looked around the room. “I guess I could be doing more to make this place feel lived in. I can’t even offer you to make the bed.”

He shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face.

“I like making the bed. Why did you ask if it was a joke?”

Mr. Reston finally found what he was looking for–a bottle of vodka and a jar of olives–and pulled his hair into a ponytail as he started to make drinks.

“Well, the Suzaku calls them maids, but everyone knows they aren’t hired to do housekeeping. They–er, we are service providers. For the body.”

“That’s an interesting way to phrase it. A ‘service provider for the body.’ Has anyone ever told you that you would be great in marketing?”

He handed me a drink. I noticed that my hand was shaking. I clinked my glass against his, which is something I learned you don’t really do with such gusto for martinis, and downed the entire drink in one gulp.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” I blurted out.

To this, Mr. Reston was speechless. He decided to follow my example and make quick work of his martini.

“You’re very… forward,” he finally said. “I will level with you, Sora. I’ve never hired a… service provider before.”

“What? Someone as rich as you? If I were you, I’d be paying someone every day to–” I cut myself off. Maybe the vodka was stronger than I thought. “Do you find me attractive?”

He sat on the stool next to me, and stroked my face with the side of his hand.

“Yes. I do. Do you find me attractive?”

I smirked. “You are alright for an older man.”

This earned another smile from him. I was getting pretty good at this maid thing.

“It’s decided then,” I said, getting up and taking his hand in mine. “Let’s do this. Which way is the bedroom?”


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