Available For Rent Ch. 01

Literotic asexstories – Available For Rent Ch. 01 by Pressing_Forward,Pressing_Forward
My first attempt at a series. This is a long slow build because I got into writing it that way. More to follow.

I’d never been sacked before. And particularly not when I was certain my manager fancied me. Well, if he did, it didn’t stop him calling me in and giving me notice. ‘It’s not working out,’ he said.

‘What? Isn’t there something I can do to prove myself?’ I said.

‘You were meant to be doing that since we last talked and you had that warning. Sophie, I don’t think this is the right place for you. You’re not interested in progressing.’

He wasn’t wrong. I hated the job. But I still felt outraged that he dared to sack me.

‘Fine. I’ll find somewhere that wants to support me,’ I snapped.

‘I hope you do’, he said. ‘I think this is going to be for the best.’

Then I was out, holding my head up. A meeting with HR, then they sent me home and told me they’d send my stuff on. Too risky to let me back to my desk I guess.

I was back home within an hour, starting to face reality. There was no way I could go on paying for this stupidly expensive flat. I loved living alone, but would once again be looking for houseshares. I’d be back to the beginning. HR had promised me a reference that would allow me to get another job. But what?

I sat for a while, looking out of the window, tried watching a bit of TV. Tidied up, signed up for accommodation adverts locally. Reading the houseshare adverts was depressing. I’d left the last share after a row with my housemates, and wasn’t in touch with any of them. I felt a trickle of doubt start about my ability to get on with people, with life. I’d never thought of myself as anything other than a winner, but someone looking at me today would surely see… a loser?

Abruptly I got up, went to my bedroom and got out of my work clothes. Time to dress up and go out while I could still afford to. I got into a low cut knee-length dress, put my hair into a twist, redid my make-up, put some heels on. Looking in the mirror I turned, trying to work out what other people would see. Too much cleavage. Did I look a bit desperate? I put a casual jacket on to soften the look a bit, changed into flat boots, wiped off the red lipstick and changed to a nude shade. Better.

I went to a wine bar nearby that I’d been to a few times. I’d managed to spend most of the afternoon at the flat, and it didn’t seem too early to have a glass of white wine. At first it cheered me up, being out, exchanging a few words with the barman, listening to the soundtrack, checking my social media. But as the wine level went down, I started to feel low. Someone I knew at university had been promoted again. Someone else had got engaged. Someone else had started a business. Everyone else seemed to have got their lives sorted.

‘Can I get you another one?’ a man asked, and I looked up ready to tell him to get lost. But the words died on my lips when I saw that it was my manager.

‘Oh hi,’ I said lamely.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I wondered how you would be feeling’.

I suddenly wondered how he knew where I lived. Presumably he’d looked at my file. Just showed i wasn’t the only one at risk of getting sacked. But I found i didn’t care. It wasn’t like he’d turned up at my door. This was public enough.

He didn’t wait for me to speak, but got us both a drink. He sat on the bench seat next to me.

‘I’m genuinely sorry it came to this,’ he said.

‘I don’t think you’re as sorry as I am,’ I said bitterly. I was still wondering what exactly he was doing there.

‘No.’ He looked at his glass for a minute, then back at me. ‘I wonder if you would consider something short term’.

I looked up. ‘A job?’

‘Yes. But a different one. Very different.’

I stared at him. This made no sense.

‘You’ve just sacked me. You know I made mistakes. And I couldn’t sort it out, despite all the time you gave me.’ It hurt to admit this but it also felt better to say it out loud.

He took a drink. ‘It wasn’t the job for you. It didn’t play to your strengths. You didn’t care about it. But that doesn’t mean i couldn’t see that you do have abilities. ‘

It was a struggle to say it, but I needed to. ‘What about this other job?’

He tapped his fingers on the table. ‘It’s a kind of personal assistant job. Not standard hours, but lots of time off. And it’s well paid.’

I looked hard at him. ‘What’s the catch?’

He laughed a little. ‘I’m afraid there are a lot of catches. It’s not a job you’d want to tell anybody about. And it’s hard work. When I need you there, it’s very, very full on. There’s no promotion prospects; that’s why it’s probably only short term. Oh, and it’s live-in’.

‘It sounds too good to be true,’ I said slowly.

‘You won’t think that when you start,’ he said. ‘But i do think that it could suit you once you get used to it.’

‘Is it legal?’ I said suddenly. I had a vague idea it might have something to do with drugs.

‘Mostly,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, it wouldn’t be you they would prosecute.’

I stared at my drink, thought about the brick wall of bills heading my way once the end of the month came, then took another gulp. ‘Where do I sign?’ I said.

He reached into his pocket. ‘Here,’ he said, unfolding a document and putting a pen on the table.

‘Hey, I was joking!’ I said. ‘I’m not going to sign anything now, without more details.’

‘More details right here,’ he said, tapping the document. I picked it up and began to read. It seemed to be a tenancy agreement, giving me a short-term tenancy of a room in Mayfair, rent of £1 a month plus services rendered, cash allowances. I liked the sound of living for almost no rent in Mayfair, obviously, but…

‘Services rendered?’

He was looking at me, smirking a little over his drink.

‘Sophie, don’t be naive. That doesn’t suit you either.’

There was silence. I felt a crawling self-consciousness as he kept on looking at me. Then he began to talk, his voice low and thick.

‘You know you’re attractive. You play on it. You’ve come out tonight with… quite a lot on display.’ He was looking at my tits. Most men do. The difficulty I have is that I have to work very hard to hide them.

If you have breasts the size of mine, it’s not as simple as putting on a poloneck or something- if anything they are even more noticeable like that. Especially if you have permanently tight firm nipples like I do which will push against a tight wool jumper. Of course I sometimes do make the most of them. I’m slight, petite even, with a slim waist, but my breasts are completely out of proportion. When I finally started spending a lot on lingerie in specialist shops, I was horrified to find I was a 30F – but I liked the results. I have to insure my underwear drawer as a separate high-value item on my contents insurance, but the bras I own now do make it possible for me to go to work and have men talk to me, not my chest. Of course, I also have bras that are designed only for being revealed and taken off, plus a couple of corsets which are frankly dangerous. I know what my body can do for me and what it does to the men I fuck.

And yes, I didn’t think I was too naive to understand what services were in his mind. To be honest I was ready to sign up, I just wanted to play a little hard to get. If he was talking about a few months as a kept girlfriend, wearing my corsets or whatever he liked and getting intermittently banged by a good looking man in return for a rent-free London room, I was up for it. Looking at him, very up for it. I wondered about his views on heels. Not to worry, being small I was fully equipped with skyscraper heels too. I briefly saw myself emerging from a bathroom in just corset and stilettos, while he lay starfished and naked on the bed with an erection, begging me to come closer…

I skim-read the rest of the document. All bills included plus a food allowance. Dress allowance for specific items to be separately listed – maybe he would pay to top up my lingerie drawer. Access visits to the room by the landlord to be allowed at any time. Well, I’d already acknowledged to myself I was up for that. Overnight absences from the flat to be agreed a month in advance. I had no rights over agreements with flatmates –

I looked up. ‘Flatmates?’

‘This tenancy is only for one room. There’s a couple of other girls living there.’

I pouted a little, felt a bit less special. ‘Do I get to meet them first?’

Suddenly I saw a different side to him. He looked – bored, a bit angry.

‘Sophie. You’re an attractive girl, but London is full of attractive girls. This flat is set up for my benefit. I’m too busy to get involved in relationships. This is a great deal you can either take or leave, and if you say no, I’m not bothered. The other girls there, you may like them, you may not. For once in your life, what you want isn’t on the agenda.’

I blushed. He knew, really, that I didn’t have many options. I picked up the pen and signed.

‘Good,’ he said briskly, folding the paper and tucking it into his pocket. ‘I’ll text you the address. You can move in tomorrow.’ He stood up.

I was startled. ‘Could we make it Friday? It would be a rush to pack tonight…’ my voice trailed off as he had that bored look again.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell Sus to expect you tomorrow afternoon by 3.’ And he was gone.

***

I just about made it by 3, though a carrier bag broke just as I was going up the steps, and I had to scrabble round to pick everything up. So it was two minutes past three when I rang the bell. I barely noticed it, but when she opened the door, she looked furious.

‘Hi. This is after 3. Tell me you’re not usually this disorganised,’ she said. I was stunned. She was spectacular, a beautiful Japanese girl about six inches taller than me and unbelievably slender. I gaped at her, not sure what to say. As I stared, the fury lessened in her face.

‘Well… I see why he asked you. Bring everything in, and we’ll start getting it all upstairs for you.’

As I passed my bags inside, I dared to ask ‘Why did he ask me?’

She laughed. ‘If you’re not sure yet, I’m sure you’ll work it out soon. I’m Sus. You’ll meet Gina later. He’s asked me to give you the tour. He’s back at 5 today and you need to be ready.’

A shiver of nerves went through me. Then the image of myself dressed up standing in the doorway came back, with him naked, and I was less worried.

Up the second flight of stairs, hauling my bags, and Sus opened a door. ‘Your room’s in here, bathroom through there. If I were you I’d shower and dress now. The outfit for tonight is hanging up there. I’ll give you a hand.’

I didn’t understand, but I dropped my bags and headed for the shower room. To my shock she followed me and closed the door. Quickly she began undressing me, so that before I had had a moment to catch my breath, I was naked. The room was lined with mirrors. She hit the shower controls, and I stepped under the jets. She handed me soap and shampoo, and, unbelievably, stood there watching.

‘Could you leave, please?’ I said in a mildly outraged voice.

‘No,’ she said. ‘He’s asked me to get you ready. And if he sees you getting ready without me, we’ll both suffer.’

She pointed to the wall behind us, and I saw that there was a camera high up in the corner. There was a red light blinking on it, but as I looked, the light turned to a steady green.

‘He’s watching us now?’ I asked. Somehow I felt not angry, but afraid, and a little excited.

‘Yes,’ said Sus. ‘Start showering.’

I stepped under the water and began to wash my face. Without a word, Sus took the soap back and started to soap my back. Suds and water cascaded down to my bum. Her hands rubbed and squeezed me. I turned round to drench my hair, and immediately Sus soaped my breasts, then slid a hand down between my legs. Back and forth went her hand, her wrist pushing against my clit. I’d never in my life had such a sexual experience with a woman, and never someone I’d barely met a few minutes beforehand. But my focus was less on her and more on the steady green light pointed in our direction. I put on a bit of a show, parting my lips, gasping as her wrist pressed against my swelling clit, lifting my hair with my elbows high to bring my breasts up towards the camera as Sus once again massaged soap suds all over them. I shampooed my hair and saw the bubbles cascading down my body…

The green light went back to red flashing. Perhaps he’s already come, I thought complacently. Sus helped me rinse off and then grabbed a towel. She was rough and fast and it was much less erotic. Rapidly she handed me a dressing gown, took me through to the bedroom and sat me at a dressing table. ‘Do your makeup and hair. He likes plenty of mascara and a red lip.’

It didn’t take me long to put on a full face, once I’d found my own makeup bag. Then I blowdried and tonged my hair into long smooth curls. I looked round expecting silky lingerie and perhaps a gown.

Sus held out something I didn’t recognise at first. It was black, made of some kind of plastic. When I made no move to take it, she sighed and brought one of its straps over my shoulder, fitting my breasts into the front piece, finding another strap, going behind me to fasten it. It forced my breasts into a rigid horizontal shelf in front of me pointing forward like torpedoes. As Sus fastened more of its buckles, my breathing was constrained. I began to panic a little. My breasts rose even closer to my face and were sharply rising and falling, which somehow added to my fear.

Sus came round to the front again, and for the first time she looked sympathetic. ‘Take your time. Concentrate on breathing out. I won’t tighten it fully until you’re used to it.’

‘It’s not – finished?’ I gasped.

‘He does make them very tight,’ Sus said. Her eyes flickered upwards, and I followed her glance to see a steady green light on the camera in the corner. My breasts were jerking up and down faster and faster. I felt lightheaded.

‘Breathe out,’ Sus said again, met my eyes and breathed with me until the pace was slower. The light-headedness cleared. As soon as I looked calmer, she nodded and went behind me again. I felt her fingers touching me at the waist, there was a click and a pulling sensation and the thing was even tighter. I concentrated on breathing out and not panicking. As long as my breaths stayed shallow, it was manageable. Then I felt her fingers between my shoulder blades. Another click and pull. My breasts seemed to lengthen in front of me as the side pieces of the thing gripped them. Desperately I focused on breathing out. In a little. Out.

Sus got me to hold her shoulders and step into a tiny set of strings which made up a kind of thong, then added holdups that gripped my thighs hard. Even this small amount of effort sent my breathing off again. I stood still and concentrated until it settled. Sus put high clear plastic heels in front of me and I climbed into them. I couldn’t see my feet past the jutting shelf of my breasts, but the shoes felt as if they could have been made for me. But made by someone who hated me. Each set of toes was precisely formed and squeezed into a tight box that was not quite actively painful but which made me highly aware of them.

Sus brought out plastic wristbands, which initially didn’t make sense to me, but then to my horror she pulled buckles out of them and fastened them to the hip pieces of the thing. I could no longer use my hands to help me balance.

‘There,’ she said. ‘That’s it for now. There’s not too long to go, come with me’, and taking my arm, she began to walk me out of the bedroom. Our progress was incredibly slow. My breasts pumped with every effort, the shoes were exquisitely uncomfortable, I could not get used to the lack of support from my hands, and feared falling. I never forgot how patient and kind Sus was then. She didn’t rush me, didn’t try to make me talk, she just supported me.

We arrived in a windowless, almost empty room. There were black screens around all the walls. There were four cameras at the ceiling, all with red lights, and more camera equipment standing by. The main piece of furniture was a large black padded chair. A bit like a dentist’s chair but covered in straps and buckles. I knew, looking at it, that I would be on it soon. For the first time I felt a deep fear about what I had signed up to.

One if the camera lights suddenly flicked to green, then a second one.

‘Now,’ said Sus. ‘Don’t worry about this stuff. I know it looks weird. The thing about this room is, it’s very simple. All you do is listen to what he says, and do what he asks.’

‘What is… what is he into, really?’ My voice was shaking.

‘Oh it’s much better than it looks. He’s not that much into pain, though he does like discomfort and embarrassment, which can be hard to take sometimes. He’s into constraint, control, obedience, that kind of stuff. He likes watching. He won’t look turned on by you, which can be a bit disconcerting. When he picks us, it’s because we’re used to male attention. He likes depriving us of that, or making sure we get it in ways we don’t like.’

The distraction of listening to Sus helped.

‘All right, it’s time,’ she said gently. ‘Here, have some water, and this glucose sweet. Food comes later. Now, step up here – and here -‘ and she helped me climb into the chair. It was very comfortable and it was already a huge relief to take the weight off my feet, which throbbed as I sat down. Sus spent some time arranging me, and then began strapping me in, with thick straps at my waist, thighs, ankles and upper arms. Very gently she put the last strap around my throat so that it held my head softly against the chair. With apology in her eyes she picked up something metal from behind the chair, and before I could see it, was sliding something into my mouth. It held my mouth open; it wasn’t painful at first but it immediately made it difficult to swallow. Saliva gathered at my lips. I tried to dip my head to swallow but the strap held me.

‘There you are. I’ll be back later,’ she said, and squeezed my hand. I tried to say something but could only make an inarticulate noise. The door closed behind her. I saw that by now, all four camera lights were green.