I don't remember falling asleep.
One minute I was staring at the fireplace, the next… black.
Then something moved.
I opened my eyes, groggy and confused, and saw it—right there near the foot of the bed.
A long, thick tail. Scaled. Pale green and smooth, like polished jade. It slithered quietly across the floor, vanishing behind the curtains. Big enough to belong to something huge. Not a dream. Not sleep paralysis. I saw it.
I sat up fast, heart pounding, and rubbed my eyes.
Gone. Nothing there.
The fire had gone low, just glowing embers now. My body was warm under the blankets, but my skin felt cold. Like something had been watching me. Close. Inches away.
Then the system flashed.
Not like before. This time it lit up in the center of my vision. I flinched.
[UPDATE COMPLETE]
[ROOM PRESENCE DETECTED: LILITH]
[Full Profile Access Unlocked]
Five new windows slid into view. All five names now had tiny icons beside them—shapes I couldn't make out yet. Their status bars pulsed faintly.
LILITH – Mood: Teasing
CLARABELLE – Mood: Sleepy
NYX – Mood: Ignoring You
MORGRA – Mood: Curious
ARACHNIA – Mood: Amused
I blinked at them, trying to make sense of it. "Okay," I whispered. "What the hell is this?"
Before I could figure anything out, someone knocked.
Three soft taps. Then the door opened by itself.
The butler stood there, tall and stiff as ever, holding a folded towel and a bundle of dark clothes.
"Good morning, Mr. Graves," he said. "There's a washroom prepared for you down the hall. Please freshen up. The madam will be expecting you shortly."
I hesitated. "The madam?"
"Yes," he said. "She prefers to greet new guests personally. You'll want to look your best."
I didn't argue. Just followed his directions to the bathroom, washed up, got dressed in the black clothes he gave me—simple, but nice, like something a servant in an expensive place would wear.
Then he led me through the mansion again, this time deeper. The air grew warmer. Heavier. The walls looked more alive, like the wood was breathing. Candles flickered even though there was no breeze.
We stopped at a pair of tall black doors with silver handles.
"She's inside," the butler said. "Knock once, then enter."
He turned and left.
I stood there for a second, then did what he said.
One knock.
The doors opened on their own.
The room inside was big, but not cold like the rest of the house. It was warm. Almost steamy. Drapes hung low and heavy. The fireplace was bigger here, the flames crackling louder. The floor was covered in thick rugs and animal furs. The air smelled like cinnamon and roses—and something more primal underneath.
She was standing by the fire when I walked in.
And holy shit.
She was tall. Almost as tall as me, maybe taller in heels. Her skin was pale but flawless, smooth like polished ivory. Her hair was dark and long, spilling in waves down her back, like black silk ink in water.
But it was what she was wearing that nearly broke my brain.
A dress so tight and sheer it might as well have been painted on. Black. Almost wet-looking. The fabric clung to every curve—massive round tits barely contained by the low-cut top, deep cleavage that went down nearly to her stomach, where a cut-out revealed the flat, toned muscle of her belly.
Her hips flared wide, dress split open down the sides, showing long legs and bare thighs held in place by black garters. No panties. Just smooth skin and shadows. Her heels clicked as she turned to face me—sharp, stiletto things that made her calves flex and the bottom of her dress ride up just a little more.
Her lips were blood red. Eyes gold. Pupils slit.
Like a snake.
"Mr. Graves," she purred.
Her voice didn't just hit my ears—it coated my skin. Smooth and slow. Hot enough to melt reason.
"I trust the room was to your liking?"
"I—yeah," I said, trying not to stare, but failing. My throat was dry. My pants were already getting tight.
She smiled—slow, knowing, wicked.
"Good," she said, and walked toward me. Every step was deliberate. Every sway of her hips was hypnotic. Her tits bounced just enough to make it impossible to look away.
She stopped just a few inches from me. Her scent hit hard—sweet and spicy and thick with something animal underneath.
Her long red nails traced the edge of my collar.
"I've read your file," she whispered. "You're a very... promising candidate."
My heart was thudding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
She leaned in. Her lips grazed my jaw.
"And I'm very eager," she said, "to see how well you do... under pressure."
Then she pulled back, just slightly, and looked into my eyes.
"You may call me Madam," she said, voice dipping low. "And starting now, you belong to this house."
The system flashed again behind my eyes.
[MADAM LAMIA – Relationship Status: 1%]
[Mood: Testing You]
I swallowed hard.
Yeah. I was definitely not here for a normal job.
She stared at me with those golden, slit-pupil eyes, like she was peeling back every layer of me just by looking.
Then she turned.
Her ass alone was enough to short-circuit my brain.
The dress clung to it like it was made for her curves—tight, shiny black fabric riding high with every step, showing off the deep, perfect swell of her cheeks. The slit down the back revealed glimpses of soft, pale thigh with every slow, dangerous sway of her hips. Her waist was small, tight, almost unreal. Like her body had been sculpted to tempt, to ruin, to claim.
She moved like she knew exactly how much power she had. And god, she did.
By the time she reached the lounge chair near the fire and turned back to face me, I was already sweating.
Then she sat down.
Slow. Confident. Spreading her legs just enough to show smooth, bare skin between the high split of her dress. Her tits shifted—heavy, perfect, round—and as she leaned forward to adjust her seating, the top of her dress slipped down.
And out they came.
Just like that.
Two thick, full breasts, swaying slightly with the motion. No bra. No shame. Her nipples were big, flushed pink, and stiff from the chill in the air. Her skin had that flawless, creamy look, like soft marble warmed by firelight. One hand came up, casually brushing over the underside of one breast, lifting it just slightly—like she was testing me.
And I?
I froze.
Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. Brain not working.
She watched me stare, her smile slow and sharp.
"No begging. No reaching. Not even a word," she murmured. "Interesting."
She leaned in, her tits bouncing gently as she rested her arms on her thighs. Her cleavage alone looked deep enough to drown in.
"That was a test, Mr. Graves."
My throat was dry. My legs didn't work. I stood there like a statue, caught between terror and a painfully obvious erection.
She didn't mind.
"We get many types here," she said. "Desperate boys. Horny little animals. Fools who fall to their knees at the first hint of skin."
Her eyes locked on mine.
"You didn't flinch. You didn't drool. That's good."
She slowly pulled her dress back up, but not before squeezing her breasts together and letting them bounce one last time. Like a gift. Like a reward.
"I approve."
The system dinged behind my eyes.
[MADAM LAMIA – Relationship Status: 4%]
[Mood: Pleased]
She stepped closer. Her scent hit me again—roses, smoke, and something hot and womanly, rich enough to taste. Her fingers trailed down my chest, then paused just above my belt.
"You'll need help settling in," she whispered. "The maids will visit you tonight. Don't be shy."
She smiled against my ear.
"They're very… hands-on when it comes to adjustment."
My heart nearly stopped.
She pulled away, her eyes practically glowing.
"You may go."
The doors opened behind me on their own.
Somehow, I turned and walked—barely able to think, barely able to breathe.
The madam didn't follow.
She didn't need to.
She was already inside my head.
And tonight?
I wasn't going to be alone.