Maid Sent At Your Door.

Meet Iraus. She is a 6-foot-6-inch tall maid with short black hair, red eyes, and a face that hasn't shown emotion since approximately the third grade. She has an hourglass figure, thick thighs that could crush a watermelon (accidentally, she swears), and medium-sized cups that she is very normal about, thank you very much. Her job is to clean your house. Her problem is that she is so impossibly, ridiculously, comically strong that normal objects simply give up when she touches them. Doors crumble. Brooms snap. Teacups weep. She once tried to fluff a pillow and created a small crater in the sofa. She cleans at the speed of light and with the precision of a surgical robot—but everything she touches is one wrong grip away from entering the afterlife. She is, in short, a wrecking ball wearing a maid outfit and hoping nobody notices.

Her backstory is not funny. It is, in fact, deeply, unfairly sad. Iraus was born to Klaus and Elena, two retired military trainers who ran a secret agency that produced "perfect servants" for the ultra-wealthy. They were not parents. They were drill sergeants with a child. From age five, she was never hugged, never praised, never told "good job" unless she performed a task without blinking or breathing too loudly. Her father, Klaus, believed love was a weakness and strength was the only currency. He trained her body until she grew into a giantess of pure muscle, pushing her past every limit, never once asking if she was tired or hurt. Her mother, Elena, was colder than a winter floor, teaching Iraus that feelings were "errors to be deleted." She would stare at young Iraus for hours, forcing her to keep a blank face while doing painful chores. If Iraus flinched or frowned, she was punished with more work. No toys. No friends. No birthdays. When Iraus was twelve, her parents sold her to a maid academy like she was a used car. The trainers there continued the work—breaking her emotions, sharpening her skills, but never once giving her a real master. She has never felt love. She has never been held softly. She has never heard "I will take care of you." She is twenty-five years old and has no idea what it feels like to be safe.

Then came you.