XX-level Hokage

Her beautiful profile was reflected in the bronze mirror. She picked up a wooden comb and spoke in an unquestionable, commanding tone.

Herribel's body stiffened abruptly, her fingertips curling unconsciously. She could feel her dignity screaming, but when she thought of the danger her subordinates might face, she gritted her teeth and slowly stood up from the tatami mat, walking step by step behind Mashiro.

“As a qualified maid,” Mashiro looked at Harribel’s wild yet submissive appearance in the mirror, her smile becoming increasingly amused, “the first thing you must learn is to dress your master.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she gently tugged at the tie of her nightgown with her fingertips.

Smooth silk slid down her perfect shoulder line, revealing a large expanse of flawless white skin. Beneath her delicate collarbone, the bottomless cleavage was enough to drive anyone crazy.

The robe eventually fell to her waist, perfectly outlining her shapely figure.

Herribel's breath hitched, and she instinctively wanted to look away—she was used to the clash of swords on the battlefield, used to using strength to defend her dignity, but she had never seen such a blatant exposure that carried a sense of control.

But just as she was about to look away, she heard Mashiro say with a dangerous "Hmm?"

Her body stiffened again. Heribel knew perfectly well that the consequences of resistance would be borne by her three subordinates.

Taking a deep breath to suppress her discomfort, she reached out the hands that had once been used only to wield the giant blade "Empress Shark"—these hands were still trembling slightly—and picked up the twelve kimonos that had been prepared on the clothes rack.

The twelve layers of the kimono are very complex, and each layer, from the innermost layer to the outermost outer garment, needs to be carefully arranged.

Herribel had never handled such delicate clothing before; her fingers darted clumsily through the silk, nearly tearing the fabric several times.

Mashiro, however, was extremely patient, occasionally reminding him in the mirror, "Tie the belt tighter" and "Align the cuffs," her tone as calm as if she were teaching a beginner.

After an unknown amount of time, when Heribel finally straightened the hem of the last layer of "Tang robe", fine beads of sweat had already seeped out of her forehead.

Mashiro stood up, turned around in front of the mirror, and nodded with satisfaction: "Very good, it seems you still have a talent for learning."

She turned and walked to the wardrobe, opened the drawer, took out a set of neatly folded clothes, and casually threw them on the tatami in front of Herribel. "From now on, this will be your uniform."

Herribel's self-illumination fell on the clothes, and her pupils suddenly contracted.

It wasn't the traditional black and white maid outfit she had imagined at all, but a set of clothes so daringly designed it was almost shameful—the upper body was a black semi-transparent lace and leather corset that barely covered the vital parts of the chest, and the back was completely open, held together only by a few thin black straps; the lower body was a very short black leather pleated skirt that reached just to the upper thigh, and next to it was a pair of black over-the-knee stockings that extended to the upper thigh, with silver lace embroidered at the top.

This "uniform" is less like a maid outfit and more like erotic lingerie designed to please others.

Herribel's fingers clenched into fists, her nails almost digging into her palms, her body trembling slightly from the immense humiliation. Her icy blue eyes were fixed on Mashiro, burning with suppressed rage, as if she wanted to devour the person before her alive.

"Put it on." Mashiro's voice remained calm, yet carried an undeniable air of command, as if she were discussing something utterly mundane.

"Don't go too far!" Harribel finally couldn't help but speak, her voice hoarse with anger. She was the queen of Hueco Mundo, an Espada who could rival the captains of the Shinigami. How could she tolerate being treated like a plaything while wearing such humiliating clothes?

But Zhenbai merely raised an eyebrow, his gaze subtly shifting to the wall where the three subordinates had been reflected the day before—a remnant of which still lingered there.

The faint spiritual pressure was deliberately left by Shinji to constantly remind Harribel of her "weakness".

Upon seeing that wall, the anger in Halibel's eyes was instantly extinguished by a chilling despair. She knew perfectly well that she had no right to resist.

Chapter 270: The Maid's Work (Part 2)

Heribel slowly closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, all the emotions in her eyes had turned into a lifeless emptiness.

She bent down, picked up the "uniform" that trampled on her dignity, turned around, and with her back to Mashiro, changed into it piece by piece.

The feel of leather and lace against her skin made her feel tense all over, especially the open design on the back, which made her feel like every inch of her skin was exposed to the air, filling her with insecurity.

When she turned around again, even Mashiro paused slightly—her bronze skin contrasted sharply with the black leather, her corset made her full breasts appear even more perky, and beneath her extremely short pleated skirt were long, slender, and powerful legs, with black stockings encasing her rounded hips and outlining an alluring curve.

The figure reflected in the mirror was no longer the queen who reigned supreme in Hueco Mundo, but a plaything that was bound, controlled, and filled with humiliation and temptation.

“Hmm, it fits perfectly.” Mashiro stepped forward, reached out, and gently ran her fingertips across Heribel’s exposed, smooth back.

The skin her fingertips touched was tense with shame and anger, trembling slightly. A satisfied smile played on Mashiro's lips, as if she were admiring a perfect work of art.

“Now, let’s begin the second lesson.” Mashiro’s voice rang in Heribel’s ear, with a hint of devilish whisper, “Remember, as my maid, there are three rules that you must memorize with your very soul.”

Her fingers moved to the back of Herribel's neck, gently pressing the skin there, causing a slight sting: "First, from now on, you shall call me Master."

Herribel's body trembled violently; the touch on the back of her neck felt like a brand, burning her heart with pain.

“Second,” Mashiro’s fingers slowly moved down, tracing the hollow of her spine, leaving a cool touch, “you must obey any of my orders, no matter how absurd they may be.”

Halibel's breathing became rapid, her nails digging deep into her palms, the pain keeping her conscious to a minimum.

"Third," Mashiro's hand finally stopped...

Then, with a hint of punishment and possessiveness, she gently pinched him, "You..."

Your body, your will, everything about you, from this moment on, belongs completely to me.

She leaned down slightly, her lips close to Haribel's earlobe, her voice soft yet undeniably assertive: "Do you understand, my dear Haribel?"

Herribel clenched her teeth so tightly they almost drew blood from her lips. She could feel her dignity being stripped away and shattered bit by bit, scattered into the cold air.

But she had no choice, and could only squeeze out a resentful and unwilling reply through gritted teeth: "...Yes." "What is it?" Mashiro's voice instantly turned cold, carrying a hint of displeasure and warning.

Harribel's body trembled again, but she finally lowered her head, her voice weak yet clear: "...Yes, Master." Harribel's "special training" began with the most basic and most patience-testing tea ceremony.

In the tranquil tea room, Mashiro sat leisurely in the main seat, holding a thread-bound book in her hands. Even the occasional turn of the page was as elegant as a figure in a painting. Meanwhile, Haribel, dressed in that shameful uniform, knelt before her. On the low table before them lay an exquisite tea set—tea bowls, tea leaves, and tea leaves.

Each teaspoon is so fragile that it seems to break at the slightest touch.

Warming the cup, placing the tea leaves, pouring water, brewing the tea... every step was unfamiliar and difficult for Heribel. Her hands, which were used to wielding a giant blade, looked particularly awkward holding a small tea spoon.

The teaspoon slipped from my fingers several times, and the scalding hot water almost splashed onto my hands.

"Keep your wrist low and keep your movements steady," Mashiro's voice rang out calmly, her gaze never leaving the book in her hands. "When pouring water, follow the edge of the teacup and don't let the tea leaves tumble around in the cup."

Heribel took a deep breath, struggling to control the trembling in her wrist, and picked up the teapot again. Boiling water slowly poured from the spout into the teacup, the tea leaves gently unfurling in the water.

Just as she was about to put down the teapot, her wrist trembled slightly, and the bottom of the teapot collided with the teacup, making a crisp "bang".

“Start over.” Mashiro’s voice remained emotionless, as if stating a fact. Harribel could only grit her teeth, pour out the tea, and begin again.

Once, twice, three times... only the sound of boiling water and the soft clinking of teaware remained in the tea room.

As the sun began to set, when Heribel finally presented a cup of clear, perfectly chilled matcha to Mashiro with both hands, her back was already soaked with sweat, and her arms ached so much she could barely lift them—this was more exhausting than fighting a life-or-death battle.

However, Mashiro merely took the teacup, took a small sip, and then casually set it aside. She glanced at Halibel, her tone nonchalant.

Write: "The tea is too hot, and the water is too full."

She paused, her gaze falling on Halibel's tense face, a hint of mockery in her eyes: "As my maid, can't you even do this little thing right?"

These words acted like a fuse, instantly igniting Halibel's long-suppressed anger. She slammed her hand on the tea tray in front of her, and with a sharp "crack," scalding tea splashed out, spilling onto the tatami mats and wetting her black stockings.

"I am not your plaything!" She raised her head, and in her icy blue eyes, the flames of rage that belonged to a queen reignited!

Faced with her outburst, Mashiro showed no surprise, not even a trace of anger. She slowly closed the book, placed it on the low table beside her, then raised her head and quietly looked at Heribel, her eyes like those of someone looking at an unreasonable child.

"It seems you haven't learned enough in today's lesson."

Mashiro slowly stood up, walked to Harribel, and then bent down to look her in the eye.

Her gaze was calm yet carried a powerful sense of oppression, instantly causing Halibel's anger to catch in her throat.

Mashiro reached out and took a black hair tie from Haribel's long golden hair—it was the hair tie Haribel had used yesterday, and it was still wrapped around the end of her hair.

In front of Heribel, she wrapped the rubber band around her wrist, the black band contrasting sharply with her snow-white skin, like a black shackle.

“Until you learn to control your emotions,” Mashiro’s voice was icy cold, yet carried an undeniable air of control, “you’ll use your tongue to clean this place up.”

Her self-sunlight fell on the tea stains on the tatami mat, and a cold smile curled at the corner of her lips.

Chapter 271: Harribel and Rangiku

The sliding doors of the tea room were tightly closed, completely isolating it from the noise of the outside world, leaving only the bitter aroma of tea that permeated the air.

Mashiro's voice was devoid of warmth, yet like needles chilled to the bone; every word pierced Harribel's heart. She froze, her bronze fingertips rubbing tightly against the hem of her kimono, her knuckles turning white from the force.

His icy blue eyes burned with boundless rage as he stared intently at the woman in the main seat, who wore a devilish smile. Once upon a time, she was the thirtieth Espada, the queen who ruled over three subordinates in Hueco Mundo. Now, she was being forced to do such a lowly and humiliating thing? This was a thousand times more painful than having her Zanpakuto broken in public.

"What?" Mashiro tilted her head slightly, her smile growing more playful. Her fingertips tapped lightly on the table, making a rhythmic sound, as if urging or pressuring. "My first maid, is she planning to disobey her master's orders for the second time?"

Before she finished speaking, her gaze drifted almost imperceptibly across the walls of the tea room—where the figures of Apache, Mira Rhodes, and Sunsun had once been reflected, the family that Halibel had fought so hard to protect.

That gaze was like cold water, instantly extinguishing the anger in Halibel's eyes, leaving only utter despair. She knew clearly that she had no choice.

The pride of a "king" is fragile and easily shattered in the face of the safety of his family. Time seemed to stand still at that moment, and only the breathing of the two of them could be heard in the tea room.

After a long while, Halibel slowly closed her eyes. When she looked at them again, all the emotions in her eyes had faded, leaving only a calm. She knelt down.

His straight back bent little by little, and his proud head slowly lowered until the tip of his nose almost touched the cold, tea-stained fabric.

Just as her delicate tip was about to touch the thick layer of water, Zhenzi's voice rang out again: "Stop."

Herribel's body stiffened abruptly, as if frozen in place. She slowly raised her head, her icy blue eyes filled with confusion, as she looked at Mashiro, who was getting up and walking towards her.

"It seems you've learned today's lesson." Mashiro stood before her, looking down at her with a gaze as if scrutinizing a dog that had finally been tamed.

The beast that submits: "What I want is not your humiliation, but your obedience."

Her fingertips gently traced Haribel's long golden hair, her tone icy yet carrying an undeniable air of control, "Remember this feeling, Haribel. From this day forward, every breath you take will exist solely for me."

Having said that, she stopped looking at Haribel, who was kneeling on the ground, her body still trembling slightly, turned and walked to the window, raising her hand to release a jet-black hell butterfly. The butterfly's wings gleamed with an ominous purple light, and its flapping was accompanied by a subtle, unsettling sound.

"Pass on the order," Mashiro's voice was completely flat, "Tenth Division Lieutenant Matsumoto Rangiku, come to my courtyard immediately." The Hell Butterfly, carrying the order, silently disappeared outside the window.

Harribel remained kneeling, her icy blue eyes filled with confusion—why would Mashiro summon a Grim Reaper at this moment? But a strong sense of foreboding gripped her like a bone.

Not long after, a series of slightly hurried footsteps came from outside the courtyard, accompanied by the soft rustling of fabric.

The sliding door was gently pulled open, and Matsumoto Rangiku appeared in the doorway. She had obviously just finished her official duties; her long, wavy orange hair was a little messy, her forehead was covered with a fine layer of sweat, and her fair cheeks were flushed.

When she saw Mashiro, a flicker of curiosity, and a hint of nervousness and anticipation that she herself was unaware of, flashed in her eyes. Her tone was as languid as ever: "Captain Mashiro, you wanted to see me?"

However, when her gaze swept across the interior of the tea room, her expression froze instantly. She saw Heribel kneeling on the ground—the one who had once...

The former 30th Espada, an enemy of the Grim Reaper, was now dressed in revealing black lace clothing, his bronze skin flushed with a humiliating red, radiating an aura of despair; and then he saw Mashiro in the main seat, wearing a gorgeous twelve-layered kimono, a playful smile on her lips.

“Captain Mashiro… this is…” Rangiku’s voice trembled with disbelief. She instinctively tightened her grip on her Zanpakuto, her mind blank.

She couldn't comprehend this absurd scene before her—why was the Espada in Mashiro's tea room, and why was he in such a humiliating, servant-like position?

“As you can see.” Mashiro shrugged nonchalantly, reaching out to gently stroke Halibel’s long golden hair, the gesture as if showing off a precious item.

Expensive spoils of war, "Heribel is now my maid."

Maid?! These two words exploded in Rangiku's mind like a thunderbolt. Her eyes widened as she looked at Harribel, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside her—shock, disbelief, and a strange unease.

“Hmm.” Mashiro nodded, her deep eyes turning to Rangiku, her gaze instantly sharpening, carrying an undeniable commanding tone, “I’ve called you here today to invite you to join this fun maid game.”

As she spoke, Mashiro reached out and opened the wardrobe beside her, taking out an outfit exactly like the one Heribel was wearing—a black lace and leather patchwork design, bold and revealing, full of suggestive and embarrassing details.

Mashiro casually tossed the clothes in front of Rangiku, the fabric falling onto the tatami mat with a soft rustling sound. "Change into this."

Rangiku was completely stunned.