Melina lived in an expensive section of town. Her apartment cost more than she could afford, but her home was important to her, and she managed. That is, until her employer fell on hard times and cut Melina's salary. Jobs in the art world are hard to find, and Melina had a creative position. She couldn't quit.
When Melina's landlord learned that her salary had been cut he raised her rent. He didn't want her to leave, but he did want to squeeze her. He wanted to dominate and intimidate her and make her beg.
Melina heard herself whining, and she cringed, but she couldn't stop. "Please, Mr. Sinkler, I just got a pay cut. I can't afford a rent increase right now. Can't you keep my rent as it is, for just a little while longer? Please? Just until my salary goes back up? I couldn't possibly find another apartment now, and I don't have the money for a deposit. Please? I really could use a favor."
"I'm sorry Melina. I can't do that. I've got a business to run, and I can get half again as much as you're paying. I'm putting an advertisement in the paper for your apartment tomorrow. I want you out by the end of the month. You'll have to deal with it."
"What am I going to do," she wailed? "You can't throw me out on such short notice."
"I can and I will. You can move to Keaton for all I care." Keaton was a slum—dirty and full of dangerous characters and not safe for a woman at night.
"You're being mean to me; how about some sympathy for a young woman trying to make it on her own?"
"You want to make it on your own go right ahead, but don't make it on my back, and don't bat you eyes at me and think I'm going to give you a free ride."
Melina was furious. She'd never bat her eyes or flirt with a prick like him, though she did love to flirt. She tried to recall if she ever did flirt with Mr. Sinkler.
Melina went to her apartment, frantic with worry, and she obsessed over nonexistent possibilities. She couldn't sleep that night, and the following day she couldn't concentrate at work, and her boss yelled at her and threatened to fire her. He wanted to frighten her too, but he would never fire her. He had positioned her desk where he could look at her legs and up her skirt if she wasn't careful.
Melina went back to Mr. Sinkler. She had to try again. It was only two weeks until the end of the month, and she was desperate. "Please Mr. Sinkler. Pretty please" she said, and she did bat her eyes at him, trying to make a joke of it, but he wouldn't budge. He remained firm, and between his legs more than firm. As Melina stood in front of him, begging, his prick swelled to prodigious dimensions, demanding attention. And when she left, recalling her pleading and debasing herself made his balls so tight they started to ache. Sinkler went to his apartment and jerked off. It was the most satisfying come he'd had in a long time, one of many with Melina as the victim in his fantasies.
He often thought about Melina: her high firm breasts, the nipples that poked dimples in her tight shirts, her gorgeous sexy legs, and the sway of her hips as she walked down the street. Everything about her drove him mad. She was a beauty; she radiated hot sexual energy, and now he was going to take full advantage. Well, maybe not full advantage. He could tell by the guests she had overnight and by what he heard with his ear against the wall that she liked women. He didn't think he could push her far enough to get her to fuck him, but he had other ideas. He waited, and Melina came back again. He knew she would, and she finally lowered her head in submission and shame and said the magic words. "What do I have to do to get you to let me stay?"
Sinkler installed a full length mirror in Melina's bedroom, a mirror of one-way glass. Once a week, on Saturday, from when she woke to when she went to sleep, Melina had to leave the glass uncovered, and she had to display herself. She wasn't allowed to hide anything. She had to shower, dress, undress, change into different outfits, try on lingerie, and cook and clean the apartment naked, or in outfits that hid nothing. She had to brush her hair, put on makeup, and once he saw what she did for exercise he made her go through her full routine of yoga and stretching, which was horribly revealing. When she spread her legs she knew he could see everything: every fold, all her delicate membranes, her fluted petals, the wetness of her fluids, the curl of her hair, and way up into that dark secret feminine core he wanted to plunge his hot rod into so badly he could taste it. He was a slimy character, a man with no morals, and if there hadn't been a wall between them Melina would have been meat on his table.
Melina hated what she had to do—he kept pushing her further and further, but every time she expressed anger she could see his man sized cock swell. He'd rub it blatantly and tauntingly as she stood in front of him, and he'd laugh and gloat. There was nothing to be gained from complaining, and she resigned herself to her fate.
Melina's fate turned out to be more complicated than she'd first imagined. From the time she had entered puberty she'd fantasized about being stripped naked and displayed to men, which is why she dressed the way she did, with short skirts, tight shirts, and with her nipples barely concealed beneath bras of the thinnest microfiber. She frequently went out without panties on, and when she was feeling especially sexy she'd tie string around her nipples so they'd be forced to be erect, and she went out shopping, pretending not to notice the double takes all around her. Eventually Melina came to realize that at the same time she felt humiliated and degraded, by her slimy landlord, she also got turned on knowing he was looking at her, though she never knew when for sure, at least not at first.
As time went on she saw strange men coming into the building on Saturday, around dusk, and then she did know, and she suspected that this was how the landlord, a cheap bastard beside all his other faults, made back the money he was losing by not raising Melina's rent. Essentially he pimped her out, and Melina knew she'd better put on a good show, changing clothing several times, pretending to be indecisive about what to wear, what lingerie to put on, and even touching herself with her fingers—but of that she only gave them a little—she desperately needed keep her rent down, but she had limits within which she had to stay to keep what little self respect she had left.
One day Melina got a call from her mom. Her mom asked Melina if she might want to entertain a cousin from the US. It was a cousin so distant on the family tree that Melina hadn't known that the girl existed. She was the granddaughter of her grandmother's cousin. She was younger than Melina.
Melina liked meeting new people. She especially liked meeting young women like herself. She was naturally friendly, open, inquisitive, and enjoyed company. She told her mom she'd be happy to host her cousin, and Melina immediately called her cousin and began to make friends.
Making friends was easy. Melina and Louise had many common interests, personal and professional, and when Melina learned that Louise was an artist and a model she invited Louise to come to the year end gala at the Museum School where Melina worked. "You can be my date," Melina said happily. "I'm allowed to bring someone, but I didn't have anyone to ask, boo-hoo."
"I'd love to be your date," Louise said. "It sounds like fun. What shall I wear?"
"We get dressed up. Not like formal, but you know, kind of sexy. Wear something dressy, but something you'll be comfortable in."
"Mmm, sounds like my kind of party. I've got something in mind."
They spoke for a long time and then rung off. "Bye-bye," said Melina.
"Bye. Love you."
Louise arrived on a Friday afternoon. Melina thought her a cute young woman. She's got a lovely smallish figure with matching breasts, Melina thought. And her muscles are quite firm. The two girls got Louise settled in Melina's guest room, and they went out to dinner and then came home and talked late into the night. They liked each other a lot.
The following morning Melina woke and realized it was Saturday, and she had a problem. She had to raise the tapestry covering the one way glass, and she was worried that Louise might come traipsing into Melina's room wearing who knows what. It's not that Louise would know about the landlord, and any other men who might be watching, Melina thought. Maybe he's not even home, but she knew better. There was no way Sinkler would miss Saturday morning, the time of day he ordered her to do her yoga and stretching and then dress.
It's not right to expose Louise to that fiend. She won't know he's looking at her, but it's still not right. I don't want him to see her. I don't want him anywhere near her cute young woman's body. Fuck him. He doesn't deserve her. She's mine.
Melina finished her routines and had become aroused, thinking of her bastard landlord watching as she stretched and spread her legs for him. She very much wanted to retreat to the bathroom and rub her clit to a satisfying orgasm before showering and dressing, but with Louise visiting she had to share the facilities, and, besides, when she pleasured herself she knew she made a lot of noise with an extensive repertoire of sounds she had little control over. Her two girlfriends used to tease her about it, but she couldn't help it, and, anyway, Melina knew it drove them wild.
There was a tentative knock on her bedroom door. "May I come in," Louise asked?
Melina was sitting at her dressing table. She had her bathrobe on. "Come in."
.... There is more of this story ...