Sophia

1

It was a cool spring morning. The bushes that decorated the front of the building were blooming, and spreading their sweet-smelling allergens through the air. On the wall facing the street, a white vinyl banner reading "Office Space for Rent" was dyed yellow with a thick layer of the stuff. I climbed up the old rusty staircase to reach the second story, and made my way to unit 211.

The inside had just enough space for two large antique desks. As usual, only one of them was in use. A woman named Carla was there, chain-smoking menthol cigarettes and tapping away on a large tablet. She was an older woman, with steel-blue hair that almost looked like cotton candy. When I entered she put out her cigarette and ran over to me.

"Sarah! Welcome back," She said, pulling me into an embrace. "How was your trip?"

"It was lovely. Here, I'll show you some pictures," I said.

We sat down on opposite sides of her desk, and I flipped through my vacation pictures on my phone. They showed a beach with crystal clear waters, and sand that looked almost like snow. There were selfies I took in my swimsuit while reading under a parasol, and while dining in a few nice restaurants.

We talked for a while about the things I had seen and done, until finally silence came over us. At that time, Carla decided to get down to business. She shuffled through some papers on her desk.

"I know you might not necessarily want a tough job right away," she said, "but I have an opportunity I think you may be well suited for."

I straightened my back and nodded. Understanding passed between our eyes. One of those clients, the kind I was fairly experienced with. She confirmed my suspicions.

"The client is a lawyer, from old money, and a widower. He lives with his daughter in a mansion up north. They already have many servants from what I understand, but are looking for a new maid. He has emphasized a need for discretion, and the pay is well above market price."

We both knew more or less what that meant. I simply shrugged. "If the pay is good, I'll manage. I need to make back all the savings I blew over the summer."

"Good. You can start today if you have time."

"No interview?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"One of our younger girls applied, but she didn't last long. I told him my best lady was going to be available soon, and I would send her right over. He was satisfied with that."

I was puzzled, and becoming a bit curious. Normally this type of guy would at least want to see you first.

"Ok then, I'll go and check it out. I'll call you tonight."

"Good. Stay safe, Sarah."

2

The mansion was located in a gated community about fifteen minutes drive from the city limits. I could see rows of ostentatious houses towering over me beyond the wall.

I stopped at a small booth in front of the gate, and a man approached the glass.

"Mr. Martin is expecting me," I said, handing him my ID and a business card.

After a short phone call, he opened the gate, and I drove on. The street was long and straight. The houses that lined each side stared suspiciously at me as I moved deeper, approaching the cul-de-sac at the end of the road. The Martin estate was there, staring down the whole length of the road, like the host seated at the head of the table, with guests on either side.

As I approached their gate, which was even fancier than the one outside the neighborhood, it was opened by a pair of men in gray suits. After I came inside, they closed it behind me, and then came over to my open window.

"You must be Ms. Olson," one said, "Thank you for coming on such short notice. We will park the car and bring up your luggage."

I left the car and handed him my keys. The other man guided me to the front door. It was located under an elaborate facade supported by six marble columns.

The entrance hall glowed with warm golden light from a chandelier above. The floor here was marble as well, brilliantly polished until it practically became a mirror. There were several replicas of old statues, and two large red couches upon which a guest might be asked to wait.

I was led upstairs and down the hall, until we reached a bedroom which he indicated would be my own. The bed was huge, with four large pillows and a thick comforter. There was a bathroom attached directly to the room as well. It reminded me of the hotel I stayed in during my vacation.

Shortly after we entered, the other man came in behind us and delivered my luggage. He informed me that Mr. Martin would be waiting for me in the lounge downstairs when I was ready, and then they both bowed slightly and left.

I unpacked my things quickly, and got dressed in one of the uniforms I brought. It was a stereotypical french maid outfit. These had been slightly altered. The cut at the bottom was a bit higher, and they were tighter around the hips and chest.

Of course, it wasn't a fetish costume by any means. An average man probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference. They would attribute it to my body being "too sexy" rather than the fit of my clothes. It gave me a bit of an edge, in an industry where most clients would prefer a young woman.

I should probably explain a bit more about it. As a maid, my job was, ostensibly, to do things like cook and clean. However, some clients wanted different kinds of services as well, delivered in a discrete manner. The company I worked for was a perfectly legitimate business which connected professional servants with high class employers.

Some of us, including myself, were willing to go above and beyond typical forms of service, and would receive very generous contracts from interested clients. This arrangement provided everyone involved with plausible deniability. I was simply a very skilled and dedicated maid. So dedicated that I sometimes cleaned my employer's bedroom in the middle of the night.

I finished getting dressed and looked at myself in the mirror. I double-checked everything about my appearance, and plucked a single gray hair from among my golden locks. I hoped that this job wouldn't give me any new ones.

3

Henry Martin was a sturdy-looking man. His suit made him look stiff and angular. His hair was long and brown, and hung so straight that it might have had weights attached to the ends. It gave the impression of a cape flowing behind him.

He was sitting in a large armchair and reading a book, when I slowly shuffled into the room. He rose with a start when he saw me.

We met in the middle of the room, and he firmly shook my hand, as if we were colleagues meeting at a business conference.

"Welcome to our home, Ms. Olson. I'm so very glad you could come on such short notice," he smiled warmly and offered me a seat on a couch across from his chair.

"It's no trouble at all, Mr. Martin," I said taking my seat, "I must say, you have a lovely home. I understand why you need more help."

He chuckled, "Thank you, my grandfather originally built it. He was an exceptional man. I must admit that it is a bit of a burden sometimes."

Here he cleared his throat, "You won't need to worry about all of that too much though. We have plenty of help for maintenance and cooking."

"What exactly do you need help with then, sir?" I asked, wondering if the man intended to chain me to his bedpost.

He hesitated, adjusting his tie. "My daughter, Sophie," he said, "You'll look after her and help her with whatever she needs."

"Like a nanny?"

"No, she's just turned 20. You'll be in the position of her personal attendant."

"What sort of personal affairs does a 20-year-old woman have that require a servant?"

"Well... she's in college. She might need help with studying," he said, sounding a bit shaky, "You would clean up her room, and check up on her, and... whatnot..."

Was having me as his daughter's handmaid a convenient cover to explain why he needed an additional servant? I needed to get to the bottom of this.

"Well," I said, "I suppose I should meet this girl."

"C-certainly! I'll have Alain bring you over to her." He rang a small bell by pulling on a rope beside his chair, and a tall gentleman entered the lounge.

4

Sophia Martin was sitting at a desk in the back of her bedroom when I was shown inside. Where her father's long straight hair gave the impression of a cape, hers was more like a fuzzy blanket wrapped around her body. She looked pale and clammy, staring at a laptop screen through large round glasses.

She jumped a bit when I entered. She stared at me for a few moments, but quickly averted her gaze. I walked closer, and gave a deep curtsy.

"Good morning, Ms. Martin," I said, "My name is Sarah. It's wonderful to meet you. Your father has asked me to take the position of your personal attendant."

Her eyes were wide. She pulled one hand up from her lap and adjusted her glasses.

"I hope that we will get along. If there is anything you need from me, please don't hesitate to ask. I will be staying in the servant's room right down the hall, so feel free to wake me at any time."

She remained speechless, so I looked around the room. It was quite messy. There were posters for some popular shows on the walls, which clashed severely with the heavy wooden desk and the regal four-poster bed. There was a highly disorganized bookshelf, with some plastic figures on top. Clothes were strewn across the floor, along with a few pieces of trash.

"Um," she said at last, "It's nice to meet you too."

She didn't meet my gaze, or say anything further. Her voice was a bit soft and raspy. I decided it was best to leave her to her work and begin tidying the place up.

"Please, don't mind me," I said with a bow.

She just nodded and continued staring at her laptop, so I began cleaning the room. I started by picking up the bits of trash that were left on the floor, and setting the books upright. I could feel her sneaking glances at me as I worked.

I picked up some of the clothes and found a laundry basket to gather them in. The basket already had stacks of clean clothes inside, so I brought it over to the large wooden wardrobe and opened it. Seeing this, Sophia made a muffled protest and stood up halfway, but I was already staring at the contents.

The wardrobe was full of clothes hanging up. Below them were shoes. The shelf above them however, was stuffed with an assortment of colorful shapes. There were a few bottles of clear liquids, with names like "SheerJoy Natural Playgunk" and "BraveLove Holistic Wellness Lotion." Haphazardly arranged beside them was an assortment of colorful silicone shapes. Some were hard and vaguely phallic, others were squishy and cylindrical with tiny openings on one or both ends.

I slammed shut the door of the wardrobe and spun on my heels.

"Hey! Don't..." The girl said, now standing at her desk and reaching out toward me.

"I'm... sorry?" I replied, my eyes locked onto yet another shocking discovery.

Sophia's dress was being lifted up, despite both her hands being empty. The thing couldn't have been less than a foot long. It was stretching the fabric and leaving a shiny wet stain at its tip. The way it shivered and swayed was mesmerizing, and I stood staring for several seconds.

She soon remembered herself, and pressed down on the beast with both hands as she sunk back into her chair. Her head hung low, as if she was trying to curl up into a ball. I approached her, trying my best to give a reassuring smile.

"Hey, it's alright... uh... dear. I'm not... um... there's nothing to be ashamed of, ok?" I stammered.

She raised her head and looked at me, but quickly fixed her gaze on the wall behind me instead. She was still holding the monster at bay with the full effort of both arms. I couldn't stop myself from staring.

"Hey... that looks really painful. Are you... gonna be ok?"

Without even realizing it, I was slowly sliding down into a kneeling position beside Sophia's desk. She stared down at me, looking flustered and trying to hide her shame as best she could.

"I'm f-fine... so just..." she mumbled.

"It's alright, show it to me. I'll help you." I said in my best sultry voice.

She looked off to the side again. It looked like her mind was racing. I just knelt on the floor in front of her, and tried my best to look friendly.

Finally, she gently moved her hands and put them on the arms of her chair. It leapt to attention, drooling like a starving lion. It once again lifted her dress up. I saw what looked like two ripe lemons underneath, held in a soft cotton cradle.

Slowly, gingerly, I reached out my hands and lifted the dress further, until she was totally exposed. She gasped and squirmed, but she kept her hands resting on the chair. I just smiled up at her.

"There we go. This must be very troublesome to have to deal with every day. Although I must say, it's really quite beautiful. May I touch it... madam?"

She swallowed slowly, like her throat was full of marbles.

"Yes you... um... please do..." she muttered.

I pulled myself a bit closer, and wrapped my fingers around the base. Then I kissed the tip gently.

Her body shuddered. I stroked her thigh with my remaining hand, but soon found that I would need both to properly hold up the weight.

The heat emanating off of it was so powerful I thought I might start to sweat. I hefted it up and laid it across my face, taking in the scent, and sliding my tongue all the way up its length. She bit down on her shirt to stifle the whimpers. The madness in her eyes told me that she had never experienced something like this before.

I continued to simply slide my tongue all around the outside, and occasionally nibble on the skin with my lips. She shivered and rocked in her seat, probably desperate for the feeling of penetration.

Of course, I was pretty unsettled by the thought of it entering my body. I was experienced of course, but this thing put the fear of god in me. So, I tried my best to simulate it.

Once it was slippery enough, I placed my hands together to create an opening, and slowly slid it over the tip. She bucked her hips a bit, but I kept it nice and slow.

Only once my hands reached the base did I begin pumping back and forth, and suckling on the tip with just the shallowest bit of my mouth. It didn't take long at that point.

The entire thing pulsed and writhed like it was a snake trying to save itself from being eaten. Despite its struggling, I kept my grip firm until all the life was drained out of it.

It hung limply, surprisingly small now. I opened my mouth wide and stared up into her eyes, showing her that I had accepted her offering without hesitation. Only after prolonged eye contact did I close my mouth and swallow.

Sophia was stunned. So I casually pulled her dress back down for her, and stood up. Then I moved behind her and began to massage her shoulders.

"How was that?" I whispered, "Did I do well, madam?"

She jumped a bit at my touch, but then leaned back against me.

"Yeah... it was... good."

5

The next few days were uneventful. Sophia averted her gaze whenever I entered the room, and only returned short dismissive grunts when I asked her if she needed anything.

So I simply went about my business doing her laundry and tidying her room. On several occasions I knocked on her door while she was evidently masturbating, but she still made no attempt to ask me for any special attention, even when I tried my best to subtly hint at the idea.

By now I had talked with Mr. Martin, and confirmed the obvious misunderstanding that had occurred. I was here to take care of Sophia's needs. Apparently she had been having a massive spike in libido, and it was causing some trouble for the family.

She was a sheltered girl, taking all her classes online in the manor. She had no opportunities to meet partners. Although he didn't admit it outright, it was clear that the state of her body was a source of discomfort and distress for her father. It was basically impossible to hide it, especially when she was spending all her days wallowing in lust.

It would probably cause him some considerable embarrassment if the general public got a good look at her. All the more so if she was going around hunting for a hole to hide that thing in.

So I kept trying, and each time she could barely even make eye contact. It was no surprise she lacked social skills, given that she only ever got to talk to her family's servants. I would need to build a rapport with her, perhaps then she would be more comfortable asking me for help.

The most common time for Sophia to leave her room was during meals, which were served in the dining room three times a day. Mr. Martin was the only one who ate breakfast there. Then he left, and Sophia was alone for lunch. And finally, they ate dinner together.

To me, this meant that lunch was the best opportunity. I spoke to the other servants, who vaguely knew what my job was, and told them that I would like to serve Sophia her lunch from now on. They sheepishly agreed, no doubt imagining that something truly vile was going to happen in that dining room.

6

So from that day on, I began bringing Sophia's lunch into the dining room. The first time, she was a bit surprised, and acted in her usual shy manner.

I placed the food in front of her. It was a bowl of rice with a hearty stew on top. I stood at the ready beside her as she started to eat. Most servants would have stood much farther away of course.

She glanced at me occasionally, and was a bit hesitant in her eating. Eventually though, she finished the meal. I took the chance to stand behind her, and gently rub her shoulders again.

"Did you enjoy your meal, madam?" I asked.

"Yeah. It was good." She mumbled.

"Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything at all? I am always at your service."

I was laying it on thick. I could tell by the motion under her skirt that she was having some ideas. She still wasn't quite there yet.

"Can... could you get me some tea then?"

"Of course! Just give me a moment."

I quickly retrieved the tea, which was already prepared, from the cart in the hallway.

"Sugar?"

"Yes, please."

As I was about to scoop some sugar out, I clumsily tossed the spoon over my shoulder, and it landed behind me.

"Oops. I'm sorry madam. Just a moment."

I bent over to pick up the spoon. The shortened skirt of my uniform rose up over my hips and gave Sophia a perfect view of my undergarments. Or at least it would have, if I hadn't slipped them off before bringing her tea.

I held my pose for much longer than necessary, pretending that the spoon was somehow slippery. Eventually I had to stand, and place it back on the tray.

I used a new spoon to add the sugar to her tea. She looked positively shell shocked. I could see the beast was fully awake now, pulling taut it's leash and drooling.

I once again began rubbing her shoulders, and pressing my chest against her neck. She drank her tea quickly and silently. Once she was finished, I cleaned everything up.

"Is there anything else, madam? Or shall I escort you back to your room?"

She stood up, looking dazed. Surely because her blood had all migrated out of her brain. I stood beside her and helped her along, as if I were escorting a wounded comrade.

We reached her room, and I locked the door behind us. I brought her to her bed and laid her down.

"You look like you need to release some tension, madam," I said, "Would you like me to bring you one of those toys of yours? Or perhaps there is something else you would prefer?"

"Could you... do it again?" She asked sheepishly.

"It? You mean like what I did a few days ago?"

"Ye-yeah... that..."

I smiled gently at her, and slowly slipped off her clothes. I kissed her neck and her shoulders, and between her breasts. Her body shuddered.