Now
Here I was, again.
Bound, spread-eagled on my ‘kindly’ neighbour Eric’s bed, with a queue of his closest pals lined up along the wall, stroking their cocks, each awaiting their turn to fuck me.
The worst of it was, I was looking forward to it. I knew I’d soon be begging each of these guys for their hard cocks, lost in ecstasy under their relentless thrusts, my pussy drenched and clenching uncontrollably as I came again and again.
They’d take me one by one, and they’d take me two, three, four, even five at a time, mercilessly using each of my holes however they wanted. And I was going to love every filthy second.
In the background, a wide-screen TV showed the video of last week’s gathering; my mouth wide open to swallow the two cocks that were roughly forced into it. My pussy was being pounded to within an inch of its life as I shuddered and came, thanking the men breathlessly for their cum.
How the fuck had this become my life?
Then
Well, I’d really fucked up this time. My boyfriend Dave had warned me that MLM schemes were bullshit, but I’d been taken in by the glossy website and paid £3000 to sign up. It had used up all of my savings and Dave had been furious when he found out - we were supposed to be saving for a house.
What he didn’t know was that I was now in £9000 of debt. My ill-advised side-hustle had spiralled completely out of control.
I was fucked. There wasn’t anyone I could ask for the money and my day job didn’t pay nearly enough to get me out of this hole.
I couldn’t tell Dave. He’d bailed me out too many times before. I really loved him and I couldn’t risk losing him over this.
In desperation, I thought I might as well try to shift some product in my street. The MLM company sold skincare, but I couldn’t think of anyone stupid enough to buy it.
Then it hit me! Eric! He lived about 15 doors up. He was retired and had pots of cash, judging by the fancy car on his drive. He was a sweet old dear and always made a beeline for me at street get-togethers. He must have a girlfriend or two, or a sister, that he needed to buy presents for.
I changed into a low-cut top and a clinging mini-skirt. That should guarantee me an invite. I wasn’t even sure if he could get it up at his age, but his eyes still worked, so I might as well give him something to look at.
I did my hair and make-up and blew myself a kiss in the mirror. I was a financial disaster, but I was hot as fuck. It’s how I always got myself out of trouble. When Dave and I argued, all it took was me bending over in lingerie and heels and he’d forgive me, every time.
But, until I figured out an outfit worth £9000 of forgiveness, I was headed over to Eric’s with a bagful of jars and bottles. I’d flash him a glimpse of my tits, laugh at his jokes and hopefully take him for a couple of hundred quid.
As I’d hoped, he opened the door with a wide smile and ushered me in.
“Katie! How wonderful to see you! And looking lovely as always!”
I gave him a kiss on the cheek, letting my body squeeze against his as I did, my tits briefly pressing against his chest. I was going to play this old boy like a fiddle.
We sat down on one of three massive sofas in his sitting room. Eric’s house was the biggest on the street, his place was a palace compared to mine and Dave’s. He made us tea and I started my sales pitch.
He looked confused. “Have you left your job? When did you start doing this?”
“Oh, you know, I just thought I’d make some extra cash. Pay for holidays and things.” Putting a hand on his thigh, I gave him a wink, “It costs a lot of money to look this good, Eric.”
He looked me up and down in a way that suddenly made me realise how much skin I was showing. “Well yes, you do always look lovely, Katie.”
He put his hand over mine and gave it a squeeze. I suddenly started to feel less in control of this situation than I wanted to be. It didn’t help that his house was freezing and my nipples were standing out like bullets.
He cleared his throat. “I’m not really one for lotions and potions, but if you need some extra cash, I have a little idea for you. I’m having some friends over on Friday afternoon. A bit of an old boys’ reunion. Why don’t you do a bit of waitressing for us - hand out the drinks and things? Say noon until eight? £150?”
“£150, Eric?” Pushing my tits out further, my nipples clearly visible, pointing through my thin top.
He looked hungrily at my cleavage, cleared his throat and said “Let’s say £200, shall we?” I nodded and he squeezed my hand again, saying “Good girl.”
His eyes lingered over my body and I felt slightly uneasy. But I dismissed it. He was going to be putty in my hands. And handing out crisps to a bunch of boring old farts was going to be a piece of piss for £200.
On Friday I pulled a sickie at work, feigning a mysterious bug. Dave was going out after work and wouldn’t be back until late, so he’d be none the wiser about my little money-making jaunt to Eric’s. I got ready, putting a black push-up bra and matching thong on under my black lace dress. If I was going to work the room, I wanted to feel sexy from the skin out.
I walked up Eric’s path as I heard the clock strike noon in his sitting room. Right on time! And ready to charm the pants off these tedious old bastards.
Eric swung the door open, just as he had a few days before, “Welcome to the party, Katie! Thanks so much for coming to help out.” He kissed me on the cheek and I felt his whole body squeeze between my thighs as he held me close for a few seconds longer than I expected.
“Just one thing before we get started. Why don’t you follow me?” and he headed up the stairs before I could protest. He led me along the landing and ushered me into a bedroom, where a bag awaited me on the bed.
“One of the boys, Brian, it’s his birthday today and I thought we could have a bit of fun if you wore this for the afternoon. I’ll leave you to get changed,” and he whisked himself out before I had time to respond.
Opening the bag, I laughed out loud. Not on your fucking life, Eric. Inside was a tacky little French maid’s outfit, with a tiny skirt and even smaller apron. I wasn’t sure the top would even cover my boobs. Nope. Not happening.
I left the room, ready to head downstairs and let Eric know that I’d stay in the dress I was wearing, thanks. But he was hovering right outside the door, waiting.
“Something wrong, Katie?”
I laughed and tried to brave it out “Eric, that dress would barely fit me. I’ll stay in what I’m wearing, if that’s ok?”
To my shock, he said irritably, “No, Katie. That won’t do at all. Brian’s looking forward to this. We’re all looking forward to this. So why don’t you shimmy that pretty little bottom of yours back into the room and do as you’re told?” He smiled as he said it, but the smile had an edge to it that I didn’t like. Not one bit.
I fluttered my eyelashes, determined to get my way, “Eric, don’t you like the dress that I’m wearing?” I did a slow little twirl for him.
He pulled a pile of cash out of his pocket. “Katie, for this afternoon, you’re in my employment. We’ve agreed that I’ll pay you for your troubles. And what I want is for you to be a good little girl for me. If you can’t do that, then I think this arrangement is terminated.”
He fanned out the notes, showing me the £200. “Do you want this money or not, Katie?”
My face flaming red, I said “Yes Eric. Yes, please.”
“Money has to be earned Katie, you understand that don’t you?”
“Yes, Eric.” How was he making me feel like a naughty little schoolgirl? His sternness was almost hot. I could feel myself starting to get wet. I clamped my thighs together. No more of that. Gross.
“Tell you what,” he said, pulling out another wad of notes, “I’ll make this easy for you. Why don’t we call it £400, and you’ll wear the dress. Or you can leave now, with nothing.”
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