Jessica's Dilemma

I was just coming to terms with the fact that Paula, my flatmate, had not only left during the night taking all her clothes, but also all of mine as well. I sat down on the sofa. I was wearing only a short nightdress. That's all I had left. It was then that I heard a key in the lock. I expected it to be Paula returning, but was shocked when a man appeared. It was the landlord.

I sat up, startled.

"What do you want?" I asked.

He took a while to reply, taking stock of my situation, clearly relishing the fact that I was so scantily dressed. He was a man of about fifty years old, ugly, balding, with a seedy look and heavy features. Something about him repelled me, but, I realised, also attracted me at the same time. I found that difficult to understand but I knew that his presence triggered a sexual excitement in my body.

"The rent," he replied at length.

"But I've paid the rent," I said.

"Not according to my records," he replied, looking into a book he was holding.

"I gave it to Paula to give to you," I said, beginning to realise that my 'best friend' had screwed me over.

"Well, I don't know what she did with it. She certainly didn't give it to me."

There was a silence during which he watched my reaction, and I reflected on my situation.

"So what's it to be?" he said finally. "Either you pay now, or you're out on the street." His eyes scanned my body. It was clear what he was thinking.

"How much?" I asked.

"Twelve hundred pounds," he replied. I was truly shocked.

"I don't have the money," I said. "Tomorrow maybe."

"Tomorrow's not good enough," he persisted. He paused, then suggested: "Maybe you could sell me something, you know, do a deal.*

"I don't have anything," I said sadly.

"I wouldn't say that," he suggested, coming closer. "A good looking girl like you...." I stood up, despite the fact that my nightie barely covered my sex.

"Now look," I said. "You don't expect me to...."

"Calm down," he said, bringing his hand up onto my bare arm. His grip tightened around my wrist. I looked into his eyes. "It's never as bad as it seems." I felt defenceless, trapped. He must have read in my eyes at that moment that I was going to let him do what he wanted with me. The contact of his flesh on mine acted like a trigger. He tightened his grip. "Just let it happen," he said, bringing his other hand up between my legs.

"No," I said, bringing my free hand over his and trying to pull his hand away.

"Yes," he insisted. I felt his fingers on my sex, probing for my opening.

"No," I said again as his finger pushed up between my labia. I struggled to free myself, but he was surprisingly strong. He pushed me back onto the sofa. The action caused my nightie to ride up, giving him a good view of my intimate anatomy. I tried to pull my nightie down, to cover myself, but he took hold of the hem and pulled it up. He stood gazing at my pussy as though it was some sort of prize at a funfair.

"Nice," he said finally. I felt anger rising in me at what he was doing, but also arousal. The two emotions were battling inside me as he stepped forward so that his leg was between mine.

With a gesture that announced his complete possession of me, he passed his hand under my nightie and took hold of me again. He slid his finger along my slit, as though it was a thing to do with as he pleased. His thing. The thought sent a little shiver through my body, and the motion of his fingers over my sex produced the inevitable arousal.

"Very pretty," he said lifting the hem of my nightie again, then looking up into my face, pausing to take my clitoris between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled me gently several times. I felt completely powerless. It was as though I was hovering above the scene, watching, aware of everything, but frozen in time. He continued to stimulate me, and I felt his finger sliding backwards and forwards along my slit, brushing against my clitoris, producing exquisite sensations that really did blow my mind. Then I felt him searching for my opening again. To my chagrin, I felt myself responding to what he was doing, offering myself to him. I realised that I wanted him to penetrate me, wanted him to hurt me, to humiliate me. I did not care that he was old and ugly. I wanted him to fuck me.

"Spread your legs wider," he instructed. I responded, spreading myself for him like a dirty whore. He took hold of me again, brushing my clitoris repeatedly with his thumb, as his fingers continued to search for my opening. "You like that?" he asked. I was incapable of answering his question, but the reaction of my sex spoke for itself. My clitoris had hardened, and my labia filled with blood. I was opening for him like a flower waiting to be impregnated.

His hand stopped its stimulation of my sex and moved up under my nightie, across my stomach and onto my left breast, where he took hold of my nipple and squeezed, a little too hard to be pleasant, causing me just enough pain so that I had to respond, moving my body and letting out a little cry. I realised that my sex was wet, ready for penetration. A sort of insanity had taken hold of me.

"So, Jessica," he said, looking into my eyes, "What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me," I replied. He must have been surprised by my response, but I had resigned myself to the inevitable. I was not going to provoke him to use force. I was going to willingly submit, and, to be truthful, I was hot, ready for sex.

"OK," he said, a smile appearing on his lips. "I can do that. But first, how about a few snaps?" He took out his phone. I froze. This was something I had not expected, but there was nothing I could do to stop him now. He took his snaps, first telling me to spread my legs wider, then to lift my legs into the air. He next got me to turn around so that he could photograph everything from the rear. In short, he photographed me, or rather my sex, from all possible angles. He then instructed me to say again that I wanted him to fuck me. I complied, and he recorded my words. Now, I realised, he knew that I could no longer claim 'rape'. He could do whatever he wanted with me.

My complete submission seemed to amuse him. He pushed a few buttons on his phone, then dropped his hand onto my sex again, at the same time roughly pushing my legs apart, and, noting my increased arousal. He slipped his finger easily up into my vagina, then withdrew it and slid it over my clitoris. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked as he continued to play with me. I shook my head. "Girlfriend?" I shook my head again. "I see," he said. "Why not?" I did not know the answer to that question. Besides, I found our conversation not a little odd. There I was, my legs spread wide, offering myself to him on a plate, so to speak, and he was indulging in chit chat. I started to bring my legs together, but he pushed them apart again. "Stay like that," he said. "Just as you are. You do exactly as I tell you. OK?" I looked up into his eyes again. Now there was a hard expression, as though he wanted to impress on me that disobedience would have consequences. I turned my face away, but he caught hold of me, and turned it back. "You understand?" he asked. I nodded, and he released my face. The strength of his grip again impressed me. I was beginning to fear him, and he, I believe, sensed this.

He pulled off my nightie and discarded in on the sofa beside me, then stood back and unzipped his fly taking out his penis. It was already hard, ready for action. It was not large, but nicely formed and beautifully circumsized. I was ready to have it deep inside me, but he just began to masturbate, arriving quickly at his climax and shedding his semen all over me. He then he picked up my nightie and wiped himself clean.

It was at that point that the doorbell rang.

"Stay where you are," he instructed, moving off towards the front door, discarding my nightie as he went. I hesitated, but when I heard voices in the entrance corridor, I stood up and, picking up my nightie, quickly put it on.

When he came back, he was followed into the room by two other men. They were younger, and both good looking. I got the impression they must have been body builders or athletes.

"I thought I told you to stay where you were," said my landlord, menacingly. I looked between him and the two men. What, I wondered, were they going to do to me now?

But that's another story.