CH 7: First Weekend

When Lila called Andrew on Wednesday night and said she was accepting his proposal, he had moved swiftly, efficiently, as if he had anticipated her decision before she even made it.

She barely remembered the drive to the mansion. It had been late, the city lights blurring past as the car Andrew’s has sent to get her cut through the neon streets. Everything had felt hazy and surreal. She had been sitting in the back seat, her clothes packed in a small bag, her phone clutched in her hands, staring out the window at the passing buildings.

The moment she stepped inside, everything changed.

The weight of her old life fell away. There was no time to second-guess, no moment to stand in the grand foyer and take in her surroundings. Andrew was there to greet her and took her hand immediately, leading her her upstairs, past darkened hallways and closed doors, until they reached his bedroom.

It was the most incredible room she had ever seen. It looked larger than the entire house she had lived in with her father.

There was a king-sized bed with silk sheets and plush pillows, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a large window overlooking the city. The floors were hardwood, the walls a light shade of cream. There was a walk-in closet, a full bathroom with a huge Jacuzzi bathtub, and a balcony that looked out over the mansion’s extensive grounds.

But she barely had time to take any of that in. Andrew was already undressing her, his hands unbuttoning her jeans, his fingers tugging at her shirt. He had wasted no time in getting her naked, his gaze hungry and demanding, his touch possessive.

She had felt nervous, exposed, standing there completely bare while he was still fully clothed.

Nervousness was an unfamiliar sensation for her, one she couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t like her to feel this way, not when she had spent so much of her life exposed and vulnerable in front of strangers. Being naked had never been an issue, it was second nature by now. She had stripped in dimly lit booths, undressed under the watchful eyes of strangers, felt countless hands on her bare skin, but none of that had made her nervous. Not even when a man was inside her, his cock pounding her pussy, his mouth biting and sucking her flesh, had she felt anything resembling the anxiety that was coursing through her in that moment.

But this was different. This wasn’t a transaction, wasn’t just another fleeting moment before moving on to the next. This was long term, permanent. She wasn’t sure if she had made the right choice, or if she had just signed her life away to a complete stranger. And yet, there was something exciting about the unknown. About being at his mercy.

He pushed her back onto the bed and he followed. His hand began running over her naked body, tracing every soft curve, every dip and swell of her skin. His touch was firm, possessive, like he was memorizing her with his fingertips, mapping out the places that made her shiver. Lila let herself sink into the mattress, her breath hitching as his hands explored her.

The sheets beneath her were impossibly soft, smooth like liquid silk against her bare skin. The kind of luxury she had never known before, fabric that whispered against her body with every shift, cradling her in indulgence. It felt too good, too perfect, like she was sinking into a dream, weightless and utterly pampered.

Andrew’s hands trailed lower, his fingers teasing down her stomach, skimming over the gentle curve of her hips before pressing her thighs apart. Lila exhaled, her breath catching as his palms slid along the soft skin of her inner thighs, spreading her open with ease. He settled between her legs, his face hovering inches above her wet slit.

She stared up at the ceiling, her heart racing, her body trembling.

Then, without warning, his mouth was on her pussy, his tongue lapping eagerly at her slit, his lips kissing her clit. She moaned, arching her back, her hands gripping the sheets. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around her tiny bud, his fingers pushing into her tight hole. She felt him spread her, stretching her, filling her, his fingers curling inside her, finding the sweet spot that made her toes curl.

From that moment on, time lost meaning.

For two days, the outside world ceased to exist. No school, no responsibilities, no distractions. Only him.

They had barely spoken. There was no need. The few words exchanged were murmured between breaths, half-whispered against flushed skin. Instructions. Praises. The occasional groan of her name.

They fucked constantly.

Every inch of her, every muscle, every breath belonged to him. Whenever exhaustion crept in, threatening to pull her under, Andrew would find some new way to stir her back to life.

His fingers would press inside her, stroking her g-spot, teasing her, taunting her, forcing her to cum again. His cock would slide between her thighs, grinding against her, rubbing her clit, his balls slapping her ass. His tongue would dance across her folds, tasting her, making her squirm, his lips wrapping around her clit, sucking her until she screamed. And she would respond, her body rising to meet his without hesitation, drawn back into the heat, the rhythm, the pleasure.

The staff at the mansion had kept themselves invisible, tending to their needs without so much as a knock on the door. Whenever Andrew needed something, food or water, it simply arrived. Silver trays with plates of fruit, warm bread, and perfectly prepared meals, set just inside the room before the door quietly shut again.

Andrew would take Lila into the large bathroom attached to his room and they would shower together. She would kneel in front of him and clean his cock with her tongue, then she would lean against the wall, spread her legs, and let him clean her pussy with his. Then they would get messy by fucking, her body bent over the bathroom counter, her ass in the air as he pumped his dick into her from behind. Just for them to need a shower again.

When they returned to the bedroom Lila could see how the mansion staff worked with quiet efficiency, slipping in and out of the bedroom like ghosts. The air was refreshed with a subtle hint of lavender, the lingering scent of sex replaced by crisp linen and expensive fabric softener. The rumpled sheets were stripped away, replaced with fresh ones—smooth, unblemished, and tucked with precision. The pillows were fluffed and arranged neatly, their once-scattered forms restored to perfect symmetry. The blankets, tangled and discarded at the edge of the bed, were straightened, folded just so at the foot of the mattress. The room was pristine again, immaculate.

But it only lasted for a moment before Andrew was dragging her back to bed, pulling her on top of him. She would spread her thighs and slip his cock inside her, his hand would grip her hips, guiding her, urging her to move, and she would fuck him, riding him, her eyes never leaving his. Her tits would bounce, her body rolling, her pussy clenching around him.

Andrew would groan, his hands sliding up her stomach, cupping her breasts, his fingers twisting her nipples. She would gasp, arching her back, grinding her hips, taking his cock deeper. He would growl, his nails digging into her flesh, his grip tightening. They would fuck until the bed was a mess again, the blankets and sheets a tangled heap, the pillows scattered. They would fuck again and again and again.

She had never felt so thoroughly used.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it ended.

Lila stirred, the absence of warmth beside her dragging her back to consciousness. The absence of his touch was the first thing she noticed. The warmth that had surrounded her for the past two days was gone. The air felt cooler without him, the silk sheets resting loosely halfway down her body, exposing her to the gentle morning breeze that filtered in through the balcony doors.

She lay sprawled across the vast bed, her limbs relaxed, her body boneless in the aftermath of two days of indulgence. Her back was completely exposed, the soft curve of her spine catching the faint glow of the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. Faint impressions of fingertips and kisses lingered across her skin, ghosts of where he had held her, claimed her, pulled her against him again and again. The sheets beneath her were rumpled, carrying the scent of sweat and sex, her own warmth still trapped in the silk.

The rise of her shoulder blades, the dip of her waist, the gentle slope of her hips, all were laid bare in the golden light of morning. If Andrew had looked back at her before leaving the bed, she didn’t know, but she imagined the sight of her stretched out like this, uncovered, spent, and used, was something he would appreciate. A reminder of the past two days, of how he had unraveled her piece by piece until nothing of the girl she had been at Pleazure Express remained.

A quiet sound pulled her from her thoughts. The soft rustle of fabric, the subtle click of cufflinks being fastened. Eyes still heavy with sleep, she blinked against the light, shifting just enough to glimpse Andrew standing near the mirror. His movements were practiced, efficient, each adjustment of his attire done with the ease of a man used to dressing in power.

Lila stayed still, her body relaxed against the sheets, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he fastened the final button on his crisp white shirt. He appeared pristine and polished in the elegance of his suit while she, naked and curled among the silk sheets, was a disheveled mess. He had spent two days pulling her apart, and now he stood before the mirror, composed, collected, as if he hadn’t spent hours buried inside her, his cock pumping her full of cum.

She shifted slightly, the silk sheets brushing against her bare skin, and Andrew caught the movement in the mirror. His gaze flicked toward her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t speak at first, simply reached for his tie, looping it around his collar.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, finally turning toward her, his voice warm but firm.

He stepped to the edge of the bed, sitting down on the edge. His fingers grazing her cheek, pushing her hair away from her face.

“Don’t get up. I have a few errands to run this morning, but I should be back in a few hours. The house is yours,” he said, his voice low. “The staff will take care of you. They know you’re here now.”

She nodded and closed her eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and then, before she could say anything, he was gone.

Lila lay still, listening to the quiet click of the door as Andrew left. The absence of his presence was immediate, leaving only the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. She sighed, stretching her limbs against the soft sheets, her body still humming with a dull, satisfied ache. The past two days had been a blur of heat and indulgence, of whispered commands and hands tracing her every curve. And now, for the first time since she had arrived, she was truly alone.

The house was silent except for the distant murmur of activity beyond the bedroom walls, the sound of the staff moving through their morning routines. The luxury of it all still felt surreal. No more dim, flickering neon, no more shared locker rooms or the steady stream of clients at Pleazure Express waiting to fill her holes.

It was just her.

Pushing back the covers, she sat up slowly, letting the silk sheets sliding off of her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. The cool air brushed against her bare skin as she reached for the robe draped over the foot of the bed. She slipped it over her shoulders but left it untied. It was barely a whisper of fabric, the softest thing she had ever touched.

She moved through the room slowly, her fingers trailing over the polished wood of the vanity, the smooth marble of the nightstand. Everything in the mansion was pristine, expensive, elegant. It felt like a dream.

Lila walked towards the double doors of the balcony, she pushed them open, letting the warmth of the morning spill into the room. She leaned against the balcony railing, the soft silk of her robe billowing slightly in the breeze. The estate stretched out before her, an oasis of wealth and tranquility. It was a far cry from the cramped house she had shared with her father. The gardens below were meticulously kept, vibrant green hedges carved into elegant patterns, beds of deep red roses and pale pink peonies lining the winding pathways that led toward the pool. Everything here was perfect. Unbelievably perfect.

She tilted her head back, letting the sun warm her face. It was almost surreal. Two days ago, she had been standing behind the counter at Pleazure Express, waiting under the dull glow of neon lights as clients cycled in and out, each one nothing more than a transaction. She had spent her nights in a dimly lit booth, servicing strangers, offering practiced smiles and rehearsed moans, her body treated like just another product on the shelf. Now, she woke up wrapped in silk sheets, had eaten food prepared by professional chefs, and had slept in the most luxurious bed she had ever known.

There were still moments when she stepped onto the heated floors of the bathroom, or ran her hands over the plush towels, or when she lay in a bed that was larger than her entire bedroom back home. It sometimes felt like she had stepped into someone else’s life. Like any second, she would wake up back in her old world, where the neon glow of the Pleazure Express sign buzzed outside, and her father was waiting for her in the car after a long shift.

She exhaled, pushing those thoughts away. She had made her choice. This was her life now.

She rested her hands on the balcony railing, gazing out over the perfectly manicured gardens below. The morning sun cast long shadows across the trimmed hedges and winding stone pathways. A gardener, dressed in a neatly pressed uniform, stood near a flowerbed, trimming away stray leaves with careful precision.

After a moment, he glanced up, his eyes meeting hers. He offered a polite nod, but his gaze lingered a little longer as he took in the sight before him. Lila realized her robe was still open, exposing her naked body. She didn’t move to close it. Instead, she met his gaze with quiet confidence, letting the warm breeze blow the fabric aside, the thin material shifting and dancing around her.

This was the confidence she remembered about herself, unlike when Andrew undressed her for the first time. She had felt exposed, nervous, and confused. But not anymore. After the past two days, there was no question as to who she was, what her role was here.

“Morning, miss,” he said, his voice polite.

“Morning,” she replied, offering a smile.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he continued, his gaze drifting across her bare skin, drinking in the sight of her. “And might I say you look radiant this morning. The sunlight suits you.”

“Thank you.” Lila smiled.

“My pleasure, miss.” He returned her smile. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your morning.”

He tipped his hat, a respectful gesture, before turning back to his work. He didn’t stare, didn’t linger. Just accepted what he had seen, appreciated it, and moved on.

Lila watched him for a few seconds longer before stepping away from the balcony, the edges of her robe still fluttering around her. She wandered back inside, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The morning air clung to her skin, cool against the warmth of the sun that had kissed her body moments before.

She moved toward the bed, absently running her fingers along the silk sheets, when a knock at the door made her pause. It was soft but firm, a polite request rather than an intrusion. Her pulse quickened for a moment, the thought of a stranger standing on the other side of the door making her heart beat faster. She quickly tightened the robe around her, tying the belt securely before answering.

“Yes?” she called out, turning toward the door.

“Miss, may I come in?” a feminine voice replied.

Lila hesitated, her hands nervously inside the pockets of her robe. It was the first time she had heard a member of the staff address her directly. For the past two days, they had kept themselves discreet, tending to their duties without a word, their presence felt but never acknowledged.

“Um, sure,” Lila replied, her fingers gripping the soft silk.

“Thank you, Miss,” the voice answered.

The door opened, revealing a woman in her early thirties.

“Good morning, Miss Lila,” she said “I’m Clara. Mr. Barrington asked me to check on you.”

Clara stood in the doorway, her petite frame accentuated by a skimpy French maid ensemble that left very little to the imagination. The black bra, fashioned from delicate lace, cradled her modest bust and was adorned with a small white bow at the center. Slim, adjustable straps rose over her shoulders, framing her collarbones and highlighting the soft slope of her neck. A thin choker around her throat matched the bra’s dark hue, set off by an additional white bow that sat neatly at her throat.