Bets Maid

Luke only half smirked as he swept his gaze over the building before him, twirling the keys to the property around one finger. He knew he should feel glee as he surveyed his winnings, but even in this moment, a little voice in the back of his mind was fighting back, reminding him, as it always did, that all good things in his life were fleeting. Why should this be any different? The voice was small, but its constant presence ensured he never got too complacent.

He was no stranger to high-stakes gambling, the activity leading to most of the high points in his life and all of his lows. Everytime he'd won enough to bow out comfortably he just had to bet it all on just one more game, always inevitably leading to disaster.

In tonight's game a hand had blossomed, the pot growing and growing even after the all in stakes had been called. The guy had bet a night with his wife, Luke had bet his designer clothes, the guy had bet his second city home, Luke had bet his Lotus, on which, he'd stressed, the paint was still drying.

The cards had been called and lady luck had favoured him.

The man had been disappointed to lose, but not angry, such was the nature of the game and he hadn't been the kind of man to renegade on his word, especially not with the penalties that carried in their little circle. In fact, after the costly loss, he had been surprisingly happy and jovial with Luke, laughing, joking and buying a drink for Luke after the tables had been cleared.

He'd shown him a picture of his wife, with whom he'd won a night with, perhaps a third of the man's age and seemingly younger than Luke himself, tall, slender, busty, blonde, Luke knew the type and recognised why the guy didn't mind his loss. A second house was likely nothing to him in terms of money, he was just in it for the fun, for the trophies, like his wife, not as a means of living, like Luke.

"So, whereabouts is the house?" he'd asked, sharing a drink with the guy.

"Old Street, about halfway between the station and the new towers they're putting up. It's terraced and from the outside looks quite slim, but it's tall and goes back a ways, it's a good place." he'd said.

"Ah sweet, anything I should know about it?"

The guy'd pursed his lips, then shook his head, "Nah, it's in good condition, fully furnished, indentured slave, gardens a little crap but-"

"Whoa, back up? What was that?"

"...The fully furnished? It's good stuff? Antique for the most part."

Luke had stared, "No no, the slave?"

"Ah! Never owned one before? She's not worth much, she's tied to the home on contract, she's not much of a looker, not my tastes."

They'd continued to talk and despite Luke's best efforts to draw out more information on the slave, the man had not been forthcoming, merely offering a 'You'll see', whenever it was brought up.

Putting the thoughts out of his head he shrugged and moved his way towards the door of his new property, slipping the key in and opening the heavy oak slab, letting it swing in silently to reveal a warmly lit entrance hall.

The property, he knew, while not massive and mansion-like, sitting at three bedrooms and only a mere two bathrooms, was spacious enough for a city property, tall rather than wide he would just have to get used to the stairs, it's worth coming primarily from its affluent location.

As he walked in, closing the heavy door behind him, the wood slipping smoothly into the frame, letting it silence the bustle of traffic on the road outside, he noticed how the rooms were lit, the place heated through and, he thought, he could smell something meaty cooking.

Despite the fact that the gentleman he had won it from had stressed he hadn't stayed here in some time, the place had a lived-in feel to it. He realised, after a moment glancing about the lavish corridor, with its fine carpets and scenic pictures, that the place was absolutely spotless. The absence of any dust or mark giving it an eerie show-home quality.

A thump from above drew his attention, drawing his eyes to stare at the ceiling, his eyes narrowing. It could've come from one of the neighbouring terraced buildings, but he didn't think it had.

"Hello?" He called up the stairs, only to be met with silence.

Slowly he began to make his way up the first flight of stairs, more than a little anxious to meet his new human slave.

As he made his way upwards and onwards he kept his hand on the gleaming polished wood of the handrail, the dark wood so shiny that he could make out his reflection, noting his smooth cleanly shaven face.

He arrived on the second floor and again, heard a noise from above.

Continuing his progression he began to climb the next flight of stairs, each level quite rampant with closed doors, behind which hid the mysteries of his new house, to be explored later.

His anxiety and curiosity deepened as the sound of humming floated in on the air, light and feminine, a soft trill that carried a familiar pop song tune, it sounded almost angelic. He wasn't sure what to expect from her, given the old man's lusts for attractive and youthful women and his aversion to this one, the mental picture Luke had formed was one of an ancient, decrepit and bitter live in maid, but that didn't fit with what he was listening to.

He listened intently as he approached the third floor, noting a staircase that would take him up to the fourth and top floor, but that for now didn't hold his interest.

Light bled under the door of a room across the landing, from which the humming came, the door pushed to, but not closed.

Luke stepped towards it, chewing on his lip as he put the faintest piece of pressure on the door.

On well-oiled hinges, it slowly swung inwards.

The room was a bedroom, well lived in judging by the clothes and shoes scattering the floor, the figure of a woman silhouetted against the far wall.

Stepping closer and peering in he saw her from behind, a woman maybe half a foot taller than him, a towel wrapped in her hair and around her waist, her figure curved and attractive, her ass full and shapely, skin smooth and warm.

He inhaled sharply, surprised at the sight and the noise, piercing through the otherwise silence of the house it seemed to disturb her. She hesitated in her humming, lifting her hands up to remove a pair of Bluetooth headphones, her head turning quickly to spot him.

His mouth fell open and he stared, breathless as she stared back, her breasts, each massive and full on her chest, tipped by a delicate pink nipple was on full view to him, bouncing slightly as they settled after her abrupt turn.

Her cheeks went crimson as she raised a hand, crossing the arm over her chest to hide her breasts, across the nipples, though the full flesh of her breasts spilled out above and below, the efforts only serving to give her an awe-inspiring amount of cleavage, her other hand desperately gripping to the towel at the waist.

"I-I, you, please tell me you're Luke?" she said, her voice soft and honied but laced with a sudden sharp anxiety, her blush crimson.

"I.. Yes?" he offered, uncertain as to who he really was, completely devoid of his wits with this image before him, her stance akin to that often affiliated with Aphrodite, if Aphrodite had been modern day thicc.

"Please wait downstairs in the lounge! I'll, I'll be down shortly okay?" she said, swallowing a little as he struggled to maintain eye contact.

Meekly he swallowed, "Er, yes ma'am." He croaked, turning quickly and scampering from the door of the room, only catching her look of surprise out of the corner of his eye, and even then only for a moment.

He made his way down both flights of stairs and quickly he located the lounge, finding it to be modern and well furnished, a large TV mounted on one wall, curved slightly inwards, something he'd never seen before.

Carefully he sat down, his own cheeks warm and as he replayed the scene over and over again in his head, crossing his legs after a moment's consideration. For reasons.

He waited for ten minutes, not daring to move before he heard the timid footsteps of whatever her name was descending the stairs towards him.

The woman stepped into the room, no longer clad in her towel but still wearing her blush.

Her hair was long and blonde, wavy with a bounce to it, like seemingly everything else about her.

She was wearing, of all things, maids uniform that seemed to walk a very fine line between being a practical uniform and a stripper costume already missing a few key pieces.

For a start, the dress started halfway down the swell of her breasts, relying on the fullness of her bust to hold the dress up, each step in the black and white outfit causing her ample bosom to jiggle enticingly.

She had already been taller than him when he had first entered, catching her flat-footed, but now she wore some dangerous looking stilettos, adding several inches to her already imposing statue, he felt practically diminutive as he stood to meet her, feeling awkward.

Her lips were painted a shade which he only, unfortunately, knew how to refer to as slut red and the effect was tied together with a black lace choker and black thigh highs that hugged her legs all the way up that he could see. Her skirt, compared to the rest of her outfit, was surprisingly modest ending part way down her thighs.

She curtseyed. He looked baffled.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Luke." She said warmly, her eyes staring into his, affectionate and kind.

"I'm... Really confused. You aren't what I expected," he swallowed, eying her down then up, looking up at her, "like, at all."

The girl blushed furiously and in an instant looked apprehensive, "You... You know?"

"Lady, I don't know a damned thing."

Her Expression brightened, "He... Didn't tell you about me?"

"He said the place had a slave, but uh, he said you weren't his type, you look plenty his type to me."

She looked bashful but simply smiled, her hands clasped in front of her, her arms pressing together to emphasize the depth of her cleavage.

"So... Tell me about you?" He asked, uncertain where to start.

"I'm the properties maid. Master." She curtseyed again, her smile brighter, for some reason.

He frowned, "You're a slave." He said flatly.

"I am, Master."

Slavery wasn't what it used to be, uncommon in general but practically standard among the wealthy, but he personally frowned upon it, seeing it as an abuse. He'd never before met a happy slave.

Luke let his eyes wander over her body again and she arched her back, smiling as she proudly showed off her assets. The cost of a slave, especially one as well endowed and attractive, as this young woman was, would far outweigh that of the house, especially given her bright attitude to servitude and, given the state of the house, her aptitude at it.

"Why would he give you to me with the house? I only bet a car."

She shrugged a little, "I am not worth so much and my contract is bound to the house which severely limits my value, not being movable. And the old master adores his cars. However him and I... Never got along especially well."

Luke frowned some more, "He never hurt you did he?"

She coloured a little again and shook her head, "No, he didn't, and thank you for the concern Master."

"What do I call you?" he asked and she smiled a little.

"My former master referred to me as fake tits."

Luke sighed and looked disappointed, annoyed that anyone could treat a woman, especially one as lovely as this one so poorly.

She, however, misread his disappointments, "Oh! I assure you master, they aren't fake at all, they're all natural."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, his eyes drifting down just for a moment at the impressive bust. To think they were natural. It beggared belief.

"You can call me whatever you want to though, Master?"

"I get that. But, well, what's your name?"

She blinked, "My name? It's Lucille, but I must stress you can call me whatever you want. As long as the house belongs to you, as do I. And you can do anything with me, Master, anything at all..." she said, her voice falling to be low and sultry, full of promises.

He cleared his throat loudly and wished he'd remained seated so he could recross his legs, "Thank you Lucille, so, uh, what now?"

She tilted her head, curious that he was using her given name but shrugged it off, "Well typically you would give me access to a stipend, you know, so I can buy in groceries, cleaning supplies and the like."

Luke thought for a moment, "That sounds reasonable, maybe-"

"Then typically when I get a new master I'm pushed to my knees and instructed to suck cock."

He coughed and blushed, taking an almost cautionary step back, "Ah that, ah, won't be necessary! Thank you! I-"

"You don't find me attractive?" She asked, one hand on her hip, the other resting across her stomach, boosting up her breasts ever so lightly.

He swallowed, "On the contrary, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen... But..."

"But?" she pressed, curious.

"But, It doesn't feel right, you don't know me, certainly not well enough to do that. And..." he trailed off.

"And?" she pressed once again, a little smile on her lips.

"And you're too perfect, I don't care if you're tied to the house, the house for the car was a stretch but this property must be worth an absolute fortune with you in it. I'm missing something." He explained, exasperation edging into his voice.

She blushed and this time, kept quiet, suddenly no longer pushing.

He narrowed her is eyes. "You don't play poker, do you?"

She shook her head.

"Mm, I can tell, your guilt is written across your face as plain as daylight. What's the catch here? What is it? What am I missing?"

She stayed silent, her eyes downcast.

"Lucille..." he said voice level, causing her eyes to be drawn up to him, her eyes, beautiful and deep had a pleading quality about him. She knew what the catch was, but for some reason she didn't want him to know.

"I demand you show me what the catch is." He said, folding his arms.

Her eyes went wide, "I-I couldn't Master! Can I just tell you? Please?"

Now she was so desperate not to show, that she was pleading to tell, despite a second ago being completely unwilling to freely share even an iota of information. He recognised the severity of what he had gotten himself into, but he had to know what was wrong with the house, he had to persist.

"No, Lucille, I order you to show me what, 'the catch' is. I need to know." It pained him to push her like this, but whatever it was, judging by her reaction, it was big.

She blushed and her face fell, a look of resignation crossing her beautiful features.

"Yes, Master..." she all but whispered, her hands linking under the hem of her dress, lifting it upwards.

Her expression fell as Luke followed the hem of her dress as it travelled upwards, revealing more of her stocking clad thighs, eventually raising to show the drooping tip of a thick soft cock.

It didn't hit him.

He watched as the hem was raised, showing more and more of her meaty cock, her member larger and thicker soft than his was hard. He swallowed.

It didn't hit him.

She held up her dress, her eyes looking away from him as she showed off her equipment, her massive cock, the tip hidden by her foreskin rested atop a pair of huge round balls, every piece of her tool smooth and hairless, a sea of femininity surrounding a ship of power.

He stared at her, her eyes looking away as he processed the information.

After several long moments, he cleared his throat and she looked back, his eyes looking up at her as, slowly, she lowered the hem of her dress.

He stared at her for a while, his expression unreadable, unlike the emotion that played plainly across her face. Terror, anxiety, shame.

He felt all of those too, in a way, but had to take a step back into logic, consider things. Here was a beautiful woman, gorgeous by any account, and he owned her. Actually owned her. If he expressed any disgust or dislike their relationship would be cold, formal, and he found he didn't want that. She had been given the short stick of life, a slave with a formerly mean Master. He found he didn't want that for her.

He made himself shake his head relief showing on his expression, fake, but he doubted she could tell.

"Thank god." He laughed, unfolding his arms to put his hands on his hips.

Her look of confusion at his reaction didn't surprise him, and he forced himself to smile, "I thought it was something serious! You shouldn't worry me like that Lucille. Now, why don't I make us some coffee and you can tell me more about this stipend, and everything else for that matter?"

She blushed, barely comprehending "May... I make the coffee? Master?"

He hesitated, then nodded with a smile, "Ah, sorry, I've never had a slave before..."

She smiled and stood for a moment, eyes moving quickly as they scanned over him, relief washing over her before she beamed at him, nodding eagerly, "It's okay, I'll help you get used to it."

The next few days were... Interesting. After his revelation that he didn't mind what practically amounted to a third leg she had been very, very flirty with him. Every night about half an hour before he would go to bed she would slip between the sheets of his bed, bare and nude, warming his spot for him.

As he arrived to come to bed she would always offer to stay, her voice sometimes low and lustful, desirous to have him join her, other times soft and hopeful, always desperate to be allowed to stay.

However, each night he would politely refuse and with a half smirking pout she would slink back to her room, sauntering nude to her own bed, her massive bust and full equipment bouncing slightly with each decidedly pronounced step, silently begging for his attention.

She would prepare his baths, clean the house, cook his meals and sit with him, allowed to choose what to watch on TV as he worked on his laptop and despite him buying her a much more modest and professional uniform, she seldom used it.

She had asked what he did, knowing that she had been won in a game of high stakes cards and he had explained that his day job was just managing his personal portfolio of stocks. He had tried explaining to her that buying and selling stocks sung to his gambler nature, but she hadn't really understood.

He quickly grew to admire Lucille. More than that, he was quickly growing affectionate of her. While her equipment still scared the crap out of him, she went above and beyond any call of duty to see that his every comfort was fulfilled. She was sweet, kind, attentive, attractive and he knew, with increasing certainty, was incredibly attracted to him.

Each morning she pushed her luck a little further. Often not dressing in her 'uniform' until later and later in the morning, typically sticking to wearing a silk, transparent negligee that clung to her body, the outline of her cock clearly visible under the fabric and the swell of her breasts a constant demanding distraction.

She would wake him by joining him in bed, snuggling herself up to him, pressing the soft pillowy warmth of her breasts to his bare back.

As days had gone by Luke had found himself growing more and more receptive to the experience. When she lay behind him, the warmth of her soft body and full squishy breasts behind him it made him feel so wanted and secure.

As he lay in bed that morning, the room still pitch black with the sun blocking shades in place he had heard his door click softly open and closed, the padding of bare feet and the gentle creak of the mattress as Lucille had settled her weight onto it.

He heard the rustle of the heavy quilt as she lifted it, joining him under it.

He slept only in his boxers and, as she moved closer, he was surprised to find the heavy bust that pressed to the back of his body was bare today, no silken negligee.