Camila, the family housekeeper

You sit across from Mr Sharron, the family lawyer in his large office of leather chairs and plants. He is a man that you have known for years. His familiar scrappy demeanor hasn't changed in all that time either.

"John. First of all, I'd like to give my condolences to you again. Your father was a great friend, and I hope that you're doing ok?" His cold calculated eyes had a slight bit of sadness in them.

"I'm fine." You say leaning into the leather chair. Your father being very wealthy was so distant that you almost saw him as any other guy.

"If you need anything at all, I'm here, ok?" Mr Sharron offered.

"Thank you." You express, and there is a short silence.

Mr Sharron places his bi-focal glasses down, and looks over the will.

"It looks like 2 million is going to your father's favorite charity." Mr Sharron started.

"Great!" You say waiting for what you really want to hear. Mr Sharron looks at you with a look of concern.

"It looks like the rest is going into a trust fund to be managed by Camila Rameriz on your behalf." Mr Sharron explained frankly.

"What?!" You sit up starkly. "Camila?" You gasp shocked.

"It's no secret that your father kind of viewed you as spoiled, and a little ungrateful." Mr Sharon pulled his glasses off. "Your father seemed to respect Camila, and thought that she would be able to manage the estate better than you."

"But.. she's the housekeeper. For how long?" You say in an indignant tone. Mr Sharron sighs.

"Indefinitely." Mr Sharron leans back and scratches his face. " 50 million in assets including the house, and any holdings are now in her name. I've already informed Ms Rameriz of this." He adds.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" You raise your voice a little.

"It looks like you might want to work on a good relationship with Ms Rameriz." He returned with a hint of disdain in his voice.

Back at the mansion you sit brooding on the large couch in the living forum. Camila is a latina woman who your father hired a few years back in her mid forties. Honestly you always saw her as a bitch, but she was the head housekeeper. You always fucked with her because she never actually did any of the work, but instead bossed around several other employees. She basically ran the large estate while your father worked all day. Currently she was nowhere in sight, but a young woman name Lila was cooking lunch.

You hear the front door open and a pair of heels snaps closer on the marble.

You turn and see Camila. She has just come back from the salon, and her hair is curled, and her face perfectly made up. She has on leather jacket over the short red dress that matched her heels, and lipstick.

"John!" She said clearly with a slight accent. "Just who I wanted to talk to." Her voice belittled. She spoke very clear English but with a slight Spanish accent.

"Hey Camila." You say fighting your anger with a smug face. She walks over in front of you and gloats.

"I guess you heard the news." She sneered.

"yeah." you stare blankly

"I think it's only fair that you treat me like shit for years, thinking you were going to get it all and then suddenly. Nothing for you." Her anger grew.

"I'm sorry, ok?"

"No. There is no sorry." She snaps

"Look you have it made now, just let me be, and we'll get along just fine." You say with a little contempt as you both fume. Her anger turned into a poisonous smile.

"I found your porn. " She placed her hand through her dark smooth hair.

"What?"

"A few years ago I was cleaning your room, and found your dvd stash under the bed." her tone was livid. Your face turns a bright shade of red.

"That was private!" You say embarrassed.

"Lila, did you know that John likes being fucked in the ass by women?" Camila said loudly, and Lila busts out laughing behind you.

"Fuck you!" You say in anger. She smiles and makes a mocking face.

"I watched all those videos of men being treated like a bitch, kissing and licking those strong woman's bootss." Camila's voice pushed you down. You stare down feeling the gravity of the situation. "By the way. I've been told that my boots tastes pretty fuck good!"

"Those are fantasies." You defend.

"Did you read the fine print?" Camila pulled a document out of her purse, and read. "If John chooses to stay at the estate he shall be subject to the rules and regulations of the estate executor!" her tone was hard.

"You can't do that?" You argue looking unsure.

"Do what?"

"Treat me like that, or make me do anything!" You say frustrated. She simply smiles, and crosses her arms.

"Just wait. I own this place now!" Camila storms out of the room with a haughty smile. You leave the living room and go up to your room. You stay in there for a week brooding. Lila brings you meals a few times a day as normal. You look up porn, and play games trying to think of a way to change your situation. There are lots of moving trucks and you hear people moving stuff up into your fathers old suite on the main floor peaking out the window. On Saturday you hear a knock, and Lila rolls in the breakfast cart. There is a wrapped box with a large bow on it.

"Camila, wanted me to give you this." Lila says with her soft voice and gentle demeanor. You perk up and pick the box up.

"What is it?" You ask, and she shrugs her shoulders, and walks out closing the door. You ignore the breakfast and open the box. You dig through it and pull out a pink latex catsuit with inflatable boobs. There is also latex hood that matches and in white letters on the forehead of the hood it reads "bitch." There was also a short note from Camila.

"Dear bitch, I have a secret to share. When i discovered your porn, i found it to be very hot watching those men lick boots. Put this on, and I might let you lick mine! If you beg! Ms R"

You put the box in the trash, and continue with your day. That night you fight the urge but end up looking up porn. The next day another box comes with your breakfast. You open the long box after Lila leaves. This time it's a pair of black PVC thigh high boots. The note reads.

"These are your size bitch. Not only do I own the house, soon I will own you! Ms R."

You set the box down, and look sourly at the wall. You don't feel like eating breakfast so you shower.