Magnolia’s workshop was located right in the heart of town, right behind the local tavern, and across from the town square. It was a small space, ju...t big enough to fit a workbench and a bookshelf. She had two stools by the bench for any customers as well. At the back was ladder leading to an upstairs loft where she lived. There was a bed, and a small kitchen area, and an even smaller bathroom. It wasn’t anything fancy, for sure, but she loved it all the same. And as a young witch who was only. Magic of some sort is the only explanationthat makes any sense. I'm standing, in a hotel room somewhere, I take it,while he lies in bed. I look at myself in the mirror while he smirks. Idon't know how I got here.I used to be a man. But now I'm wearing a peach-colored maid's uniform,with a white apron and black stockings and shoes. My hair is long. I knowI'm wearing a bra and panties underneath the uniform.But that's not all. The worst is I can feel my breasts, probably C-cups,and that I have. You grin and nod, standing up and undoing your own pants. He turns around and leans against the wall, sticking his ass out eagerly. There's a bottle of lube in the nightstand, but that's behind a locked door. You could try to loosen him up with your fingers, but the look he gives over his shoulder is one of immediate need.So you press into him slowly, with only enough force to move but otherwise letting his muscles relax around you. He lets out a long, low moan and pushes back to force all of. ‘Quit calling me ‘Good girl.” I ignored his warning, and delivered one of my own with a voice vibrating with anger and indignation. ‘Sir.’ His hand squeezed my shoulder. ‘You’re not my fucking dog, you’re my fucking private. I’ll call you any goddamned thing I want to. Girl.’ Taking him completely by surprise, I rolled him over on his back, straddling his hips, my hands planted on his chest. He stared up at me in a mixture of shock and anger. ‘I’m not a dog. Don’t treat me like one. Save your.
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