Forced Sale

Her sobs eased. "I don't know," she said. Then, after a pause: "Will you do that to me again?"

"Now? Jesus!"

She shook her head. "I need it. More. Later," she stammered. She sobbed once more, and then took a deep breath. "You're right, I'm really a bitch."

I smiled. She started rambling about how she worked hard. She didn't understand why, but she really tightened up in reaction to stress. She really felt that everything had to go her way, and she only lately started noticing how she treated other people.

"I'm really sorry for the way that I talked to you," she continued. "You seem nice, and I'm really much better with customers. It sounds really cliché to say this, but the way you fucked me like that really made me feel better. I've never—I mean, when you started, I was really scared. But it felt so good to give myself up, and then it got really sexy. I never came so hard, twice in a row. And now I feel relieved. I want more, I want you to take over my body—"

"Well, good. Then I'm sure you can get me a deal on this house," I interrupted her. I never expected her startled confession, or how she revealed herself to me by confessing all these feelings. She was mine; I completely owned her now. I fucked her pussy, and her ass, and now I was going to go after her spirit.

"Ten percent less than the asking price sounds like a good deal," I added. The opening was too much to walk away from. I just forced myself on her, and she says I seem "nice"?

She stopped and stared at me. "I guess I can ask—"

"You'll get it," I said firmly, interrupting her again. "It has been on the market for six months. In this economy, nobody is buying houses of this size, and certainly not at the price your seller is asking."

Monica didn't say anything, thinking. After a few seconds, she blurted: "But you have to do that to me again."

I stood up and started pulling my pants on. "We'll see about that."