CH 8: House Tour and Dinner

Clara helped Lila pick out something suitable for the day. After two days of wearing nothing in the bedroom, it was time to start dressing the part of Andrew Barrington’s companion. Something light, comfortable, and appealing.

The dress Clara chose was undeniably cute, but also unsurprisingly skimpy. It was soft, silky, and a pale shade of pink that complemented her skin. The thin straps barely sat on her shoulders, delicate and dainty, while the neckline dipped low, offering a generous view of her small breasts.

It had a ribbon bow around the waist, tied in a neat little bow. It added an innocent, sweet touch to the outfit that also drew attention to her thin, delicate frame.

The skirt was short, really short. The hem brushed the tops of her thighs, offering a flash of her lacy panties whenever she moved. But Clara reassured her that it was perfectly appropriate for her to wear these types of outfits around the mansion.

“It’s light and airy,” Clara said approvingly as she adjusted the straps, standing behind Lila in front of the full-length mirror.

After breakfast, Clara had taken it upon herself to introduce her to a few more members of the household staff.

First was Eloise, the head chef, a striking woman in her early forties with dark, tightly coiled hair and sharp eyes that seemed to notice everything.

Her uniform was nothing like a real chef’s coat. The crisp white fabric clung tightly to her curves, the snug fit showing off her slim waist and full chest. A wide cutout stretched across the front, leaving the soft swell of her cleavage on full display, framed by black piping that only drew more attention to it. Their were black buttons running down the frontm a quick tug would easily pull it open and expose more of her tan skin underneath.

The chef coat was scandalously short, only going down a few inches past her hips, allowing her to move freely. It was designed for ease and efficiency, but it also allowed for a glimpse of the small, white thong that peeked out whenever she bent over. And somehow, despite the slippery tile floors and the fast-paced work of a kitchen, Margot moved effortlessly in a pair of sleek black heels. They clicked softly against the floor with each step, her balance perfect, her movements smooth, as if the shoes had become an extension of her body.

Unlike the other house maids Lila had met, Margot wasn’t overly formal, offering Lila a simple nod of acknowledgment rather than a warm greeting.

“If you’re hungry, you come straight to me. I don’t like wasted food, and I don’t like last-minute requests. Breakfast is served at eight, lunch at one, dinner at seven. If you want something outside those hours, let me know in advance. If you give no notice, you can eat my cunt,” she said, her eyes never leaving the chopping board. “Understood?”

“Uh ... yeah,” Lila blinked, not used to being given rules about eating.

Eloise gave her a once-over before turning back to her kitchen, clearly deciding she had said all that was necessary.

Then there was James, the chauffeur. The kind of man whose smile lingered a little too long and whose eyes never quite stayed on her face. He greeted her with an easy smirk, his gaze shameless as it dragged down her body, taking in the soft curves beneath her dress.

“If you ever need a ride, Miss Lila,” he said smoothly, “just say the word. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go ... long as you ride me once in a while, too.”

Lila stiffened, her polite smile freezing in place. Before she could respond, Clara stepped in, her voice calm but firm.

“I’m sure Mr. Barrington would have plenty to say about that, James. Perhaps you should focus on your job. There are plenty of girls at the mansion who would be more than willing to share your company, as I’m sure you’re aware. But not Lila. Is that clear?”

James gave an easy shrug, his smile unwavering.

“My apologies, ladies. Didn’t mean any harm.”

Clara raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his casual tone, but after a moment, she relented, her posture relaxing.

“Just watch yourself, James. I won’t have you disrespecting Mr. Barrington’s companion.”

“Of course,” he replied, his gaze still fixed on Lila.

And Lila also met the gardener, the one she had seen that morning while on the balcony. He introduced himself as Daniel, a young man in his early twenties with dark, neatly trimmed hair, and a strong jaw that held the shadow of stubble.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss,” he said, his green eyes warm. “Sorry about earlier. Didn’t realize Mr. Barrington had brought someone new home.”

“That’s okay,” Lila said, offering him a smile. “I didn’t expect to see anyone, either.”

“You’ve already met our head gardener, Daniel, then,” Clara said, watching their exchange with interest.

“I may have accidentally flashed him this morning,” Lila replied. “I didn’t think anyone was out there.”

“Don’t worry, Miss,” Daniel said, his eyes sparkling. “It was a pleasant surprise. You have a very beautiful body. It’s nice to see such a gorgeous girl enjoying the sun. It’s a shame you covered up so quickly. The sun looks wonderful against your skin.”

Lila blushed, his compliments taking her by surprise.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the view,” she said, a teasing note slipping into her voice.

“I certainly did, Miss,” he grinned, “But I should probably get back to work. It was nice to meet you properly.”

“You too, Daniel,” she said, returning his smile.

By midday, after they had eaten lunch, Lila had reached her limit. She was tired and sore and needed a break from everything. The staff had been so welcoming and helpful, and they had made her feel so at home, but it was still all overwhelming.

“Do you think I could take a nap?” she asked Clara. “I’m exhausted.”

“Of course, Miss,” Clara said, smiling gently. “Do you know the way back to your bedroom?”

“I think so,” Lila nodded.

“Well, if you get lost, just ask any of the staff. They’ll be happy to help.”

“Thanks,” Lila said, before making her way back to her room.

Lila made her way through the grand halls of the mansion, the soft whisper of fabric the only sound accompanying her steps. The house was so quiet, even though she knew that others were moving about, performing their tasks, going about their duties. Despite the beauty, the wealth, the polished elegance of every inch of the estate, she still felt like an outsider walking through it. Like a visitor rather than someone who belonged.

Her bare feet barely made a sound against the smooth hardwood, the hem of her dress swaying against her thighs with each step. The walls stretched high above her, adorned with intricate moldings and the erotic artwork made by Thomas Rye. Each canvas depicted a different woman, their faces contorted in ecstasy and agony, their bodies bound and displayed for the pleasure of their captor.

The walk back to her room felt longer than it should have. There were too many halls, too many doors, each one looking just as pristine and untouched as the last. But she kept moving, turning corners with quiet determination, until finally, the familiar sight of her bedroom door came into view.

Pushing it open, she stepped inside and let out a breath. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, a wave of relief washed over her. She was alone again.

Lila eased onto the bed, the silky fabric of her dress sliding against the smooth sheets as she stretched out. The cool silk brushed against her bare skin, a soft contrast to the warmth of the sun streaming in through the balcony doors. Her small body was almost completely lost among the expanse of the mattress. The plushness beneath her cradled her petite form, her slender legs barely taking up any space as she shifted, the hem of her dress inching higher with every movement. She curled onto her side, tucking her hands beneath her cheek, her hair falling across her face.

For the first time since Andrew had left that morning, she felt like she could finally exhale. No staff, no polite smiles, no overwhelming grandeur. Just quiet.

She closed her eyes, letting herself sink deeper into the bed. The weight of everything, the move, the mansion, the sex, the endless new names and faces, it was starting to get to her. And for the first time in a while, she found herself thinking of her father.

She had been so caught up in this new world, wrapped in silk, surrounded by luxury, consumed by Andrew. She hadn’t stopped to consider how her father was handling things without her.

Back home, their routines had been simple, familiar. She’d wake up to the sound of him shuffling around the kitchen, coffee brewing, radio murmuring some old tune. She’d come down naked, her hair a tangled mess, her small tits exposed, the only clothing her worn-out slippers. He was the only person she was ever comfortable showing herself to without the promise of money. They didn’t talk much in the mornings, but she had always been there, moving through the same space as him.

And at night, after long shifts at Pleazure Express, her holes aching and raw, her mind exhausted, he’d pick her up and drive her home, no matter the time. Even though he didn’t say much, his presence had been a comfort.

As she thought about him, she remembered his taste of her lips. Her fingers twitched as if she could feel the way his cock pulsed in her mouth, his hot seed coating her tongue, sliding down her throat. But now she wasn’t there to soothe his ache, wasn’t there to suck his dick when it throbbed, wasn’t there to be the good daughter she was supposed to be.

But in the end, he wanted her to make her own choice.

Lila opened her eyes, blinking away the sting of tears. She couldn’t let herself cry, not now. Not here. She had made her decision. This was her life now. And no matter how much she missed her father, she couldn’t go back.

She rolled over, staring up at the ceiling, the sun streaming in from the window, bathing her in a golden glow. She knew she should feel grateful, lucky even, for the opportunity that had been presented to her. But the unfamiliarity of it all overwhelmed her.

The bed was too big, the sheets too soft, the room too empty. She longed for the cramped, familiarity of her old bedroom. The worn mattress, the frayed curtains, the faint scent of tobacco and sweat that had always clung to her clothes.

It was all gone now.

With a sigh she rolled onto her other side, away from the sunlight. Maybe, with a little rest, she’d feel better.

After waking up, Lila decided to stay in her room. She didn’t have the energy to explore, didn’t want to engage with the world outside these walls. She was content to curl up on the bed, her small frame sinking into the endless softness of the mattress as she flipped through the channels on the massive flat-screen mounted on the wall.

But no matter what she put on, nothing held her attention.

She wasn’t used to this much free time, to this much space.

Normally at this time she would be working at Pleazure Express, 6 hours into her 14 hour Saturday shift. She would have had a handful of clients already serviced by now. She would be feeling the dull ache in her jaw from sucking cock, the burn in her legs from riding a thick cock, and her pussy would be dripping with a steady stream of cum after clients paid extra for the privilege of fucking her without a condom.

She would be on autopilot, doing what she knew how to do. Putting her body on display, opening her mouth, spreading her legs, and taking a stranger’s cock inside her, over and over and over again. She would have no control over how the men used her. Would have no say in how they touched her, how they fucked her. She was a hole for them to fill.

But Lila loved sex. Even though it was a job, the physical pleasure was always there. She would moan and whimper and arch her back, and eventually, she would cum. Every orgasm would be a reward for the work she put in, a small spark of ecstasy amid the routine of it all. And because she enjoyed it, time would fly by, her shift coming to an end before she knew it.

Here, alone, there was no one else to perform for. No clients, no managers, no coworkers. Just her, and her thoughts. And the endless stretch of time ahead of her.

The low rumble of an engine outside pulled Lila from the haze of mindless television. She blinked at the screen, barely remembering what she had been watching. The sound of the car pulling up wasn’t loud, but it was unmistakable in the otherwise silent mansion.

Andrew was home.

She shifted, stretching her arms over her head, the silk of her dress brushing against her nipples before letting her arms drop back onto the bed. The muffled sound of voices reached her ears, Andrew’s deep, commanding tone echoing through the halls, the softer responses of the staff answering him. The distant shuffle of movement downstairs.

And then ... nothing.

The house settled again, the hum of life that had sparked for just a moment fading away.

Lila sighed, letting herself relax back into the sheets. Andrew must have gone straight to his office, she thought. Probably buried in paperwork, or on an important phone call. Whatever it was, she was sure he would come find her when he was ready.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Then another.

Lila expected him to find her to he could ravage her tight body. She thought that after a long day of work, he would be aching to sink his cock into her, to relieve some tension.

But he didn’t and she didn’t know why that bothered her.

Eventually, a soft knock at the door brought her back to the present.

“Come in,” Lila called, sitting up.

“Hello, Miss,” Clara said, stepping inside.

“Hi, Clara,” Lila said, offering her a smile.

“Will you be coming down for dinner, you heard how punctual Margot is.”

“Will Andrew be joining me?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Mr. Barrington will be having his meal in his office.”

Lila felt a strange stab of disappointment.

“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll come down then.”

“Excellent, Miss,” Clara smiled. “I’ll let Eloise know. We’re serving a lovely pork tenderloin tonight. And a lovely dessert. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Lila climbed off the bed, adjusting her dress.

“I’m sure I will,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

But, as she walked alongside Clara through the empty hallways, a heavy sense of dread weighed her down. She couldn’t help but wonder how many meals like this she’d have, just her, alone, with no one else around. How many nights would Andrew spend locked away in his office, leaving her to wander the mansion by herself?

Clara led her into the dining room, where a single plate sat waiting. It was neatly arranged, the silverware placed just so, an empty wine glass beside the cutlery. A few candles flickered softly in the dim light. A small vase of fresh flowers sat beside it, their petals soft and vibrant.

“Please, sit, Miss Lila,” Clara said, pulling out a chair for her.

“Thank you,” Lila replied, lowering herself into the seat. “But Clara, there’s only one plate here. Where’s yours?”

“Oh, I don’t eat in the dining room,” Clara smiled. “I’m just a maid, after all. It wouldn’t be proper.”

Lila paused, thinking about how she was about to sit alone at the enormous, polished table and eat by herself.

“Andrew told me that the staff would take care of me, and that they would do whatever I asked. So, will you please join me, Clara?” Lila asked, tilting her head.

“Of course, Miss,” Clara nodded. “As you wish.”

Clara walked away for a moment before returning with two other maids, who quickly set a place for her.

“Amara and Hana will be serving us tonight.” Clara gestured towards the girls.

Amara and Hana worked swiftly, their movements perfectly synchronized as they finished setting the table. Lila had met them briefly during her tour with Clara earlier that day, and both girls had been very friendly and kind.

Amara moved efficiently, as she adjusted the silverware. Her deep brown skin wore the skimpy French maid uniform perfectly, the dark color complimenting her rich, chocolate hue. Her bra, though revealing, sat snugly against her large breasts, the soft curve of her cleavage on full display with a tiny white bow nestled between them. Her hair was blonde, done up in a high ponytail that swayed with every movement, accentuating the fluid motions of her body. The sheer black skirt did little to hide the high-cut thong beneath, its transparency offering just enough coverage to be considered a uniform, but not enough to leave much to the imagination. Even standing still, her natural thigh gap was evident, her stance effortlessly poised as if she had spent years perfecting the art of standing beautifully.

Hana, on the other hand, was noticeably smaller, her presence more delicate and precise. Her frame was almost childlike in comparison to Amara’s already petite body. The black lace of her bra barely had anything to cling to, resting softly against her nearly flat chest, the tiny bow at the center drawing attention to her lack of cleavage. Her sheer skirt swayed with every careful movement, the fabric doing nothing to obscure the thin string of her thong against her pale skin. Her hips were narrow, her waist so slight that the white apron tied around it looked oversized, the delicate ruffles bouncing slightly as she shifted. Hana also had blonde hair, which was in a ponytail as well. Though just as high as Amara’s, had a feathery lightness to it, the strands soft and wispy as they cascaded down her back.