Ensnaring Lilly

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the second of three planned books about Lilly's sexual adventures. While they can stand on their own, if you'd like to know more about Lilly's journey up to this point, please read Cultivating Lilly first.

Please do take a moment to rate and comment (positive or negative) on these chapters as they help me better understand if I'm hitting the mark.

The Swedish word for cork (korka) and completely (igen - pronounced eye-yen) are used intentionally and are not misspellings.

IN THIS CHAPTER - Now nearing her mid-20s, Lilly's love of making cuisine has meant a move to Europe where she starts her own business. Although surprised by what she's made to wear, Lilly is excited by the money she will earn when hired by a new client. A love interest brings Lilly breakfast and enjoys the sight of her pussy. Sebastian's expertise at cunnilingus starts Lilly's morning off on the right foot.

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Lilly's eyes blinked open when she heard the knock at the door. She stretched and gazed at the cracked plaster over her bed. The drabness of her apartment was mildly depressing but then she giggled and kicked the blankets off. It was going to be a great day because the break she'd been waiting for had finally come through.

It took every last cent she had to get her catering business up and running and tonight was her chance to make a big impression on some very influential people. Lilly's Catering and Event Specialists had been contracted to supply twelve elegant meals for a small dinner party at Rebecca Tallenger's home in the hills overlooking Lake Lucerne, Switzerland.

Disappointing was the call last night from the only part-time employee she had. The young woman (also a student at the same culinary school Lilly had previously attended), was unavailable this evening. It was her boyfriend's birthday and they had plans.

But then she reasoned that serving twelve people wouldn't be a stretch. She had waited tables when she lived in Palo Alto, California, and in Lucerne; sometimes playing hostess to over twenty people at a time. While in school, as a senior she headed up one of its kitchens, which served a small, functioning restaurant that was open to the public. It had been a grind but she'd learned how to manage juggling multiple balls at a time.

She had also learned she didn't want to work in restaurants. The fast pace was exciting at first, and the beautiful choreography of a well-run kitchen humming flawlessly for hours was intoxicating. But she realized she'd never be able to keep up that pace for an entire career. The dream of becoming a celebrity chef and owning multiple restaurants was what led many to culinary school. For Lilly, it was the love of preparing good food and bringing some joy to the people she fed. She was a people pleaser at heart and it was easier and more gratifying to make a few people happy rather than an entire restaurant of customers and staff on the front end, along with vendors, accountants, and suppliers on the back.

Living extravagantly wasn't a huge priority, so saving wasn't a tremendous challenge. Although she did - eventually - want to earn a decent living, she was keenly aware that it took a ton of hard work to succeed and she was willing to invest in her fledgling business and herself to make it happen.

The rent for her very old, very tiny studio and first-floor kitchen was low because it was very old and very tiny. It was in what TV home shows called a 'Transitional' neighborhood. She wasn't sure which way the neighborhood was transitioning toward, but she kept her doors locked and her head on a swivel and, in general, felt safe enough.

She also made friends with her food. It took time and skilled labor to turn the first floor into a professional workspace and as the remodel unfolded, neighbors would stop by to see what was happening. She would bake cookies or have hot nibbles available and would sit for a cup of tea as a way of ingratiating herself. It paid off because she found cheap labor through the neighbors; a mother offering her contractor son up, a plumber recommending an electrician, or the kitchen supplies rep who knew a tile setter. Before long, the kitchen was complete and because she'd been making food for so many locals, when she did finally open for business, she didn't have to wait long before gigs started coming in.

It was small stuff, which was fine. Birthdays, wakes, parties, anniversaries, religious holidays that warranted family gatherings. Nothing too large and all manageable. It was humble food for humble, hard-working people. But people know other people and word gets around. When the offer came through her website to work for Rebecca Tallenger, Lilly was overjoyed and quickly accepted the assignment.

Switzerland attracted money because of its friendly banking laws and there were names those less wealthy heard about. Rebecca Tallenger was one of them, although Lilly couldn't recall ever meeting or seeing the woman. Through Lilly's contact page on her business website came a very short note: I am interested in what you have to offer. RT.

That was it. Things went from there through the client's attorney.

The knock came again, this time with more insistence. As she pulled back the covers, Lilly determined she would get to her shop later this morning (just 15 steps downstairs) and prep everything in advance. Then, closer to departure, she would fire up and get to work. Meals would then be stashed in a hotbox and secured in the beat-up catering van she'd purchased at a storage facility auction.

Lilly used the door as a partial blind to collect the package from the courier. Her outfit had arrived in a lovely white box ensnared in a pink silk ribbon and she knew it would fit her unique proportions perfectly. The client had required Lilly provide her 26-22-26 measurements before the esquire would send the 30-page document by email. When the knock came at the door, her computer dinged a moment later.

The delivery guy hardly noticed her nakedness as she signed for the package. She preferred to be nude when at home and since it wasn't even 7 AM, she was still hours away from being dressed for the day. She appreciated that Europeans were far less uptight than Americans when it came to nudity.

She put some coffee on, opened the curtains of the small window and looked at the centuries-old beige plaster wall not more than 15 feet away. Between the two buildings was a narrow cobblestone alley. If she bothered to open the windows and lean outside, she could catch a sliver of Lake Lucerne several miles away.

Placing the box down, she woke up the computer, poured a cup of coffee and munched on an apple while browsing through the contract. Noting several passages about privacy and not having the ability to disclose information about Rebecca, her guests, the property or any actions that took place within all seemed reasonable.

She was no lawyer and her understanding of Swiss law amounted to zero but what little she read of the English-language document made sense. She'd learned about contracts during the 'Culinary Business' course she'd taken and the professor had noted that clients - especially wealthy or famous clients - often included passages to protect themselves.

Absently running her fingers through the well-pruned hedge of mahogany pubic hair atop the swale of her mons, Lilly sat at the computer with her legs open, just as she'd been trained. Doing so was as natural as blinking or breathing.

While this was normal behavior at home, she did practice some decorum in public. She still sat with her knees apart, although such a stance was not as pronounced as it had been during her training with her second family. Sitting as if you were lashed to gynecological stirrups was something a naive 19-year-old girl could get away with. A 24-year-old woman who ran her own business had appearances to keep.

Because she always sat with her legs open, if she wore a skirt for any business-related function, Claire was coyly hidden from view behind a silk or satin thong. When menstruating, she generally went with a thicker cotton that was modestly cut to ensure the string of her tampon wasn't visible.

When she wore pants or leggings (and wasn't on her period), she did so without underwear. She enjoyed the sensation of the fabric working its way between Claire's billowy folds as she moved, and she also liked the look, which was commonplace among young European women. To Lilly, it still felt fiercely independent, was unabashedly feminine, and also very sexy.

On her own time, however, she comfortably fell back into what felt natural. She was unconcerned about showing Claire off to anyone who bothered to notice. Guys sat with their legs open and went 'commando' all the time. She didn't see anything wrong with a woman doing the same thing. And since it was a regular occurance in Europe, guys didn't pay as much attention, which made the women who preferred not to wear panties more comfortable in doing so.

Nothing jumped out at her as she skimmed the first three pages of what appeared to be a standard Non Disclosure Agreement. Growing bored with the legal gobbly-gook, she skipped to the end where a dollar figure was noted in bold and a line resided for her signature. Smiling at the nearly $15,000 she'd make for one day of work, she signed it electronically and sent it back to her client's lawyer. A few moments later, the fully executed document landed in her email box.

Clapping, she cheered at the screen, "Yay!" Claire was drooling but she was more interested in the contents of the package than her own self satisfaction. Patting the downy tuft, she flayed her girl-part open with her fingers and looked between her thighs. Momentarily diddling with the pink rosebud of her clit, she sighed and said, "Be a Good Girl," grabbed the bundle and padded over to the bed to see what had been sent.

The package included everything she was required to wear this evening. The client had apparently taken to the idea of throwing a Victorian themed party and everyone was to come dressed in period clothing, including the staff. It was clearly based on a late 19th century maid's uniform and the quality of the garment was top-notch. But it was closer in cut and style to a naughty Halloween costume.

Hemmed just an inch past her hips, the skirt revealed nearly everything. Only the ruffled white petticoat beneath it hid the siren-red crotchless panties from view. Holding then up and looking though the hole designed to display her special place, Lilly thought these were an odd and unnecessary accessory for the hired help, but clients got what they paid for. Adjusting them around her hairless pleat, she smiled at her reflection. It had been a long time since she'd worn crotchless panties and as she fiddled with the lacy fabric, she recalled a trip to Napa, California, with the men of the Vatspalt family. She momentarily thought of being korka igen and the exquisite fullness such a position elicited while tying the white cotton apron tied around her waist.

The black silk corset was appropriately stiff and had tiny pearlescent buttons up the front. It cinched tightly enough at the waist to enhance Lilly's modest hips. The cups were sewn high on the garment, providing dramatic lift and creating a creamy shelf of buttery soft flesh. But they were small and uncomfortable, with Lilly having to smoosh her D-cup-sized breasts into them. Once situated, her breasts tumbled over the tops and accentuated her deep cleavage.

The garment rose just beneath the strawberry nubs of her nipples. If it wasn't for the frilly white trim, said nubs and their diminutive coronas would have been revealed. Nevertheless, she realized she was going to give everyone a show the moment she leaned over the table to serve a plate or refresh a drink. The same could be said for her backside; the skirt would expose her fanny whenever she bent at the waist.

This wasn't of much concern. Lilly was comfortable with her body. The Vatspalts had instilled her confidence. ​Her mind wandered, thinking back to her time with them. She hadn't heard from any of them in more than three years. She was busy, they were busy. People drifted as life went on. To 24-year-old Lilly, 19-year-old Lilly was a chapter from another lifetime ago.

She had kept up with them for nearly two years following their move from Northern California to Amsterdam. And she had every intention of looking them up when she started culinary school in Switzerland, although she never shared with any of them that she would be in Europe. Consequently, that meeting never took place.

Daddy had a huge job as the director of the Rijksmuseum. Momma - as far as Lilly knew - was still working part time at the Amsterdam school district, while their kids, Louise, Erik and Cassy had no-doubt graduated from the various universities they attended. She briefly wondered if the Vatspalts had the same success with Cecilia as they'd had in freeing her of her body issues and inhibitions.

Culinary school had been nearly all-consuming and it wasn't easy, despite her comfort in the kitchen. Since she had to fund the private school, working was also a necessity and a social life inhibitor. She attended school in the mornings then hustled to one of three part-time jobs, where she would work late into the evenings. When she got home, she barely had the energy to nibble on some food before collapsing into bed.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she ran the sheer black thigh highs through her fingers. They were made of high-quality silk and topped with intricate lace. Pulling them on gently, so as not to snag on a pink painted toenail, she admired how they accentuated the long muscles in her legs.

She had put on four pounds since her time with the Vatspalts and she knew Dr. Malstrom, her former gynecologist and also a member of the Vatspalt family, would be proud. She still thought about her first visit to his office and his comment on her being underweight. Now, at 122 pounds, her ribs weren't as obvious and the points of her hip bones, while still evident, were a bit softer. She didn't look quite as lanky and was comfortably headed to the curvier form of an adult woman.

She slid the garter belt up her legs and under the petticoat, until it rested on her hips. With the skirt being so short, it was no surprise that the belt's straps and the tops of the stockings were exposed. She affixed the clips to the thigh highs and cautiously eyeballed the high heels. Sensible footwear, apparently, was not something servants wore two hundred years ago. At 5-foot, 9-inches tall, the four-inch black patent leather shoes would elevate her to more than 6-feet.

Once dressed, she gazed in the mirror and was pleased with the overall effect. It was certainly risqué, but it also put her in the right frame of mind: She had been hired to serve. After all, if these people liked her food, she was confident more business would follow. If showing some tits and ass helped, then so be it.

​Lilly's body had not always been something she was proud of. Her long-boned arms and legs had always looked too skinny. 'Hippy' wasn't a word ever used to describe her figure and she was ridiculed during her formative years because of her top-heavy proportions. As a result, Lilly suffered from extreme body anxiety. But then she met Cassy at community college, and over the course of a wondrous year with the Vatspalts, she grew to appreciate herself.

With their help, Lilly had learned to accept who she was physically. To do this hadn't been easy but, thankfully, the Vatspalts were patient; never asking her to do something she wasn't prepared to try. And when she did decline their direction, at least at first, they never pushed.

In the beginning of their relationship, it was small things: leggings and tights paired with sweaters that fell to her waist instead of her knees. Then shorts and body-hugging tee shirts eventually came into the picture. This led to miniskirts and low-cut tank tops. The Vatspalts weren't body conscious and wore very revealing clothing. The women never wore underwear and their wardrobes highlighted this. Neither did the men and Lilly enjoyed seeing the contours of their cocks beneath lightweight lounge pants and skin-tight gym shorts.

The Vatspalts had a pool and Cassy finally got her into a bikini. As the months wore on, her second family were regularly naked around her and thought nothing of it. After an initial surprise when Erick turned up unannounced in the shower one morning, Lilly began bathing with the Vatspalt siblings regularly whenever she spent the night at their home. At first, they never forced themselves on her or pressured her into anything. There was no stigma attached to the naked body and Lilly learned to embrace the naturist lifestyle in the safety of the Vatspalt's house.

As her confidence grew, so did her courage, until one afternoon when she sat on the steps outside of a museum with Louise and Cassy. Her 'sisters' spread their legs and dared her to do the same. It felt delicious and naughty and Lilly obeyed. None of them wore panties beneath their short skirts and Lilly's arousal only grew when she saw men were surreptitiously taking pictures of her with their phones. It was one of many pivotal moments she had with her second family.

Years spent in gymnastics and, later, volleyball, had toned her muscles. Upon moving to Lucerne, she spent any free time she had at a local dance studio to stay in shape. She enjoyed ballet because of the discipline and structure it provided. Her instructor was firm, bordering on abusive, and Lilly thrived under his tutelage. She found his dominance over her comforting.

Practicing online yoga since her late teens, Lilly discovered the intense stretching exercises paid dividends when dancing. She was lithe and limber; able to extend into positions that girls half her age couldn't even attempt.

It had all paid off and she thought she looked better than ever. As a young woman of 19, she had been uncertain how to move with grace, especially in heels. She thought she resembled a baby giraffe learning to walk. But now she knew how to carry herself.

A soft knock at the door pulled her back to the moment. Smoothing the skirt, she took the 12 steps necessary to cross the entirety of her apartment. Sunshine streamed in, creating a halo around Sebastian.

His eyes crawled over her. "Well, well, don't you look positively...slutty." His smile was wry. He held a paper bag stained with pastry grease.

"Be nice," Lilly said as she stood aside to allow him entry. He was dressed casually in slim-fitting cream pants and a lightweight gray mock turtleneck sweater. His sandy-blond hair - tinged with gray - was flyaway with bed-head remnants and stuffed under a black watchcap. He hugged her and pecked her cheek and she inhaled his leathery-woodsy aroma. Between her legs, Claire let Lilly know she would be down for some breakfast. "It's my uniform for tonight's party," she said.

Sebastian set the bag down, grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured himself some coffee. "I have to say, I like it."

"Thanks." She sat primly at the tiny dining table, being careful to try and keep the skirt from getting wrinkled. It was short enough that the panties were exposed and he wasn't shy about bending to look between her thighs. She helped him by opening her legs a bit wider. "Yes, honey, they are crotchless."

Taking a sip and continuing his inspection, he said, "I can see that." Another sip. "And I like it." He sat down. "I hope this Tallenger woman hires you for jobs like this all the time."

"Just relax, sex pig."

He grinned. "Oink, oink!"

It was a pet name they arrived at together because of his love for rooting around between her legs. She never complained because he was exceptionally good at it. "You act like it's the first time you've seen my girl-part."