Home Is Where the Heart Is Ch. 01

I stared at the email, trying not to cry. 'Thank you for your application Fia, but we regret to inform you the position has been filled.' It was the third one this week. My first year of college would be over in less than a month and no one wanted to hire me for the summer.

It was my own fault really. My grades were less than stellar. I'd probably be on academic probation next year. I hadn't even been able to settle on a major yet. I knew I wanted to help people, to be of service. So I had taken introductory courses in nursing, psychology, and social work. I had failed one of them and barely passed the other two. On top of that I had taken a selection of general education courses, my pass rate for them being even worse.

It's not that I wasn't intelligent. I had actually come to this college on full scholarship, a scholarship that would almost certainly be taken from me at the end of this semester. I had no idea how I would pay for my tuition next year. Part of me had considered whether or not it was even worth coming back. Clearly academia just wasn't for me.

Which was strange, because I loved going to class. I was an active participant, happy to join in discussion, sometimes even challenging the professors preconceived notions. But I was always careful not to step too far out of line. They were my elders and experts in their fields. I knew they commanded and deserved respect and I was more than happy to give it.

But when it came time to study for exams or write essays, my heart just wasn't in it. In truth, I didn't really know where my heart was. It just felt lost, homeless.

"What's wrong little duck?" I heard my roommate, Charlotte, ask. She always knew when I was unhappy. I smiled a bit at her pet name for me. She was constantly using little nicknames. I'm not sure I had ever heard her call me by my actual name. She was sitting on the edge of her bed now, her eyes deep with concern.

"Still no luck on the job front." I confessed. She had already been offered her dream summer internship months ago. Of course she had, she was perfect. Impeccable grades, gorgeous face, luscious body, and the most delicious pussy I had ever tasted. Admittedly, it was the only pussy I had ever tasted, but that didn't make it any less delectable.

Yes, sometimes Charlotte and I had that sort of relationship. She wasn't my girlfriend or anything. I was pretty sure I was mostly straight, although much less sure than I had been six months ago. But sometimes we liked to fool around. She always initiated, either holding me down while she ate me out, or commanding me to get on my knees and pleasure her until she came.

It started last semester after she drunkenly stumbled into my bed instead of her own, returning from a wild frat party. I was so shocked when she kissed me that I swear my whole body just went into some sort of paralysis for a few minutes and the next thing I knew her lips were moving down my torso, licking and sucking every inch of skin until they reached their final destination, my innocent little pussy.

I had enjoyed our little sexcapade so much that she had the brilliant idea to use it as an incentive to get my grades up. If I did well on a test, she would reward me by going down on me. If I did poorly on a test, she would punish me by making me suck and lick her pussy. It worked for a little while until I realized I liked giving just as much as I liked receiving. It was hard not to, her pussy was like heaven, and being under her command, knowing I was being 'punished' for an indiscretion, that felt just as good as any orgasm.

She had also introduced me to those. I was still a virgin, if you didn't count all of my adventures in cunnilingus. Other than a short peck on the lips when I was sixteen, I had never even been kissed by a boy. It's not like I didn't think about it. I thought about it a lot, fantasized even. It's just that I was shy. I needed him to take the lead, take control of me, just like Charlotte had. And that first night, she made sure I came hard, made sure I knew just how pleasurable giving myself to someone really was. I swear I was addicted to the orgasms only she could give me. I had tried to recreate them by touching myself, but it wasn't the same. If I wasn't under her spell, I just couldn't cum. It was as simple as that.

Her beautiful face currently looked like it was pondering something, unsure whether it was a good idea to tell me or not. I had seen her make that face before, when I had brought up my lack of success in the job search. I had let it go in the past, but this time I was sort of at my wit's end.

"What is it Charlotte? You're obviously thinking sometime, so just tell me already." I begged. She raised an eyebrow. It was like she could sense that I had tried to make it a command, but it naturally came out as a plea. I didn't command people. Especially not Charlotte. I much preferred to be the one at the receiving end of a command. It just felt natural.

"Well, I do know of a job that I think you might be perfect for, but if you're not as meant for it as I think you are, things could get a little bit awkward." She admitted, not sounding awkward at all. I'm not sure she could sound awkward, she had too much confidence.

"What is it? I'll do anything at this point." My voice had a new found eagerness to it.

"My dad needs help on his farm." She smirked.

"Oh." That wasn't what I was expecting. I'm not sure why she thought I'd be perfect for it, I don't think I'd ever even been to a farm. But I needed a job for the summer, and if she really thought I could do it, then I'd happily take it. "Sure, when can I start?"

"Eager little beaver aren't we? That's good, he'll like that." Her smile told me there was something she wasn't saying, crucial information she was holding back.

"Why do you think I'd be perfect for it?" I asked, sensing that the answer to this one question might reveal the answers to many others.

"My dad is a lot like me. He likes his girls sweet, innocent, cute as a button, and willing to do whatever he asks of them." There was something almost sadistic in her smile now. I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

"And what would he ask of me?" My voice was saturated with a hesitant fear.

"A lot." She grinned. I could hear myself gulp. "You see he doesn't just need a farm hand, he needs a pretty little slave girl like you."

"I'm not really a slave girl." I started to defend, albeit not very convincingly.

"On your knees little duck." She commanded, and it's like my body moved on it's own. Before my brain could even catch up, it had sunk to the ground, kneeling in front of her. "You were saying?"

"Why does your dad need a slave girl now?" I questioned. I knew Charlotte's mother had left them years ago, when Charlotte was still a baby. Surely he had found another woman to occupy his time by now.

"He works really hard. Running the farm by himself, raising me. He never had much time for anything serious. Sure he had the occasional hook ups and play partners, but nothing long-term. Now that I'm out of the house and he doesn't need to worry about me, I figure it's the perfect way to kill two birds with one stone. You could help him out with the farm work. And he could help himself to that cute little pussy of yours. And ass, and mouth, and tits." She was grinning from ear to ear now, and there was still something behind it. Something almost malicious, but intoxicating at the same time.

"You sure do know a lot about your father's personal preferences." I noted.

"He was always completely open and honest about sex when I was growing up. It can be hard to keep those kind of lifestyle choices from the people who live under the same roof as you. It's probably why I'm so... sex positive." We both knew she meant she was a bit of a nymphomaniac. But I guess I was too. The difference was she was addicted to sex wherever she could get it, and I was addicted to her.

"Does he even know you're proposing this solution of yours to me?" I asked, fully aware that I was already considering saying yes.

"No. But we've talked about what a good little carpet muncher you are. And I'm sure he's wondered if those mouth skills extend to cocks as well." God I loved it when she talked filthy to me. "Plus, every time I've sent a picture of you to him, he goes on and on about how fucking sexy you are. I'm sure he's used them as masturbation fodder more than once."

"You've sent him pictures of me?" I should probably have been offended by that, but instead I was kind of titillated. Knowing that this man, who I knew hardly anything about, was jerking off thinking about fucking me.

"Yeah, our first night here, I sent him a photo of the two of us. He commented on how pretty you were and it kind of just spiraled from there." She shrugged, as if this was totally normal.

He hadn't been able to drop her off at college like most parents did. He couldn't afford to take any time away from the farm. I remember feeling sorry for her that first day, seeing me and the rest of our classmates sharing heartfelt goodbyes with our loved ones, while she had simply driven herself here. But apparently she was making up for her lack of a proper parting by sending him dirty photos of her sweet naive little roommate. Wait, were they dirty photos?

"What kind of photos have you been sending him?" I should have sounded outraged, instead I was simply curious.

"Relax, nothing too risque, mostly just the ones you post on social media. Although, I did manage to get a few of your in your underwear without you noticing, and once I even snapped one of you in a towel while you were distracted." She confessed, a deviant little glint her eyes.

"And you sent those to your father?" I was still so amazed that she and her father had this kind of openness when it came to sex. I was even more amazed that I had somehow already been dragged into it.

"Yeah, why not? He's forty, not dead." She shrugged again. It made me wonder just how 'open' her relationship with her dad was.

"Have you and him ever...?" I blurted out before I could think better of it. I immediately clamped my hand over my mouth as I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

"No. We've talked about it, but we both decided that was a line that should only be crossed in our fantasies. Incest in reality get's complicated, not to mention it's kind of illegal. We have said that if there was ever a girl we wanted to share, that could still be open for discussion." She winked. The meaning was not lost on me. I was that girl.

"So, do I get to see a photo of him?" I requested.

"Don't you think it would be more fun if you didn't?" Her grin got even cheekier if that was possible. I was still on my knees in front of where she was sitting on her bed. She leaned down and whispered the next part into my ear, seductively. "Think about it, submitting yourself to a man you've never even seen, that you know hardly anything about, other than the fact that he raised your sometimes lesbian lover and he masturbates over you regularly. Does that thought not make your pretty little pussy wet? Let me give you to him, as a gift." It wasn't quite a command, I could technically say no. But we both knew I couldn't actually. The idea had far more appeal than any summer job I had applied for. Except I wouldn't just be an employee. I would be a slave. And for some reason, that was the most alluring aspect of it.

"When can I start?" I asked again, repeating my initial reaction.

"As soon as you take your last final." Her beautiful impish grin lit up her face. "But first, you have to prove to me what a good little slave girl you can be. I only gift the best. Especially to my daddy." She laughed, pulling her skirt up to reveal she wasn't wearing any panties.

Her scent was intoxicating and I almost couldn't stop myself from diving in before I got the chance to say, "Yes Mistress." I had intended to deliver it as a joke, but it sounded like anything but. And in that moment I knew, as did Charlotte, that I was born to be a slave.