Needing Money

The following very dark story has themes of non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of gender, political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read.

"You...you are going to pay, right. The entire amount?" I ask the guy feeling more nervous than I ever have as I look at where he told me to go. I glance at that part of this enclosed room again, then look at the guy who said his name is "Rod-Man."

I know I'm acting like a scared little girl, even if I am a nineteen year old woman, but I can't help it. I'm very much out of my depth here. Never did I think I would be doing anything like this.

Rod-Man looks like a stereotypical frat boy, from his clothes to haircut, if the frat boy was in his mid-thirties. He even has that sort of personality and attitude, like his football team is the greatest and you don't get an opinion about it. Where every person he interacts with has some sort of secret handshake.

"Oh my gosh Lori, yes!" Rod-Man answers, slightly annoyed. Granted, this is the eighth or ninth time I've asked. I know it must be getting annoying but damn it, I'm nervous.

"Look," Rod-Man says as he pulls out his cell. After unlocking it, he taps away, opening whatever apps. He then turns the cell's screen towards me so I can read it.

Sure enough, on the screen is the "Cash-Money-App." I see my ID there, along with his, with $6,000 ready to be sent to me. I'm happy to see the verified icon for his account, making me know that he does indeed have the money.

I'm here because of an ad I answered by Rod-Man. The deal is that I do this session, and after, he'll send the payment. It's an informal agreement with no paperwork or anything, mainly because this is technically illegal. Not illegal in the sense that we are robbing anyone or even hurting someone, but still illegal.

I bite my lip after he lowers his cell, to which I look at the "station" where I'm supposed to go. It fills me with dread to look at it, knowing that when I do go to it, it'll be so much worse. The dread is so strong I swear the emotion pumps off the "station" like a living thing.

If you asked people that know me if they thought I would ever do something like this, they would laugh. It's not something that you would except me to do. Not nerdy, quiet Lori. And I'm not sure if that's a good thing any longer.

Trying to hype myself up, I tell myself that it won't take long once we start. I mean, ten minutes at most. Ten minutes and I'll be $6,000 richer. That's not bad, right? Don't even need to pay taxes on it. Ten minutes and I don't have to worry about a thing for an exceptionally long time.

I'm a nineteen year old college girl who needs money, and a lot of it. Tuition is past due and I lost my job over a month ago. The start-up business I was working for sort of went belly up without any warning. I never even got my last couple of paychecks, leaving me beyond broke. If I don't pay the $3,000 college tuition by Monday, the university is going to kick me out.

This is my only option. Well, the only viable option. My parents don't have money, nor do any of my friends. At least not in this amount. If I had applied for financial aid at the beginning of the year, I may not be in this situation, but I didn't. I had a good paying job that I thought would hold out. And no bank is going to give me that sort of money when they know I don't have a job.

I met Rod-Man via a local Reddit post/ad. He posted he was looking for special girls for a unique photo shoot. I have to give him some credit, he was very upfront in his posting, saying that the photo shoot would be sexual in nature, but wasn't a porno or anything. That they weren't trying to be BangBus but had their own thing. To this I had to look up what BangBus was as I don't watch porn, to which I felt I needed to take a long shower to get clean.

Upon messaging Rod-Man he explained they served a unique online clientele with their website content. That they needed to make new content for the upcoming season. But that the content wasn't what most people would call normal in terms of sexual interests.

"Don't worry Lori, it won't be that bad, trust me. It'll be fast too. Ten minutes at most," Rod-Man tells me with a gentle voice, no doubt seeing all the conflicting emotions running over my face. He knows that I'm a good girl that doesn't do crazy stuff like this, especially not crazy sex stuff.

And so, I look at the station once again. It's an area of this room with two large metal bars running parallel with the ground that run about four feet across. One bar is about three feet off the ground and the other around four and a half feet off. Those bars are attached to two other bars that go all the way from the ground to the ceiling.

And pointed at the station are several cameras to capture each possible angle. That's where I'm supposed to go. Where I'm to go to be recorded doing this craziness.

Oh help me because I can't believe I'm here. In all my life, I've never heard of anything like this, yet I'm about to take part in it. My only hope is that no one I know will ever be into this kink so they won't see the video. I mean, I'm not a prude or anything and believe people can like whatever kinks they want, but...this is so strange.

What I'm about to get paid to do is to go behind the bars where I'll put my upper body through the two parallel bars while standing. My hips will press against the first bar, and then the back of my shoulders will rest on the second bar. It'll not feel comfortable, but I think that's the point. Just like I'm supposed to hold onto the top bar with my hands.

Once there, Rod-Man, or maybe the other guy that's here, whatever his name is...are going to, ummm, well, it's so hard to admit this. It's so weird. It's so...strange. They are going to put breast pumps on me under my shirt.

Yes. You read that right. Breast pumps. They will be real breast pumps as if I were pregnant. With the pumps on pumping away, they will take pictures, as well as record a few videos. For the videos, I'm going to have to play along and say a few embarrassing statements, like "how I love having my breasts milked," or that "this is exactly what I needed," and other stupid man-written crap.

Rod-Man assured me that this is all they would do. No sex at all. Not even nudity. He even said they would keep my shirt on so my breasts wouldn't be seen. That his viewers just want to see my reaction, not my breasts.

That's not too bad, right? I know the pumps will hurt a little, but it's worth it for the money. After all, pregnant women use them all the time. I did some research on it to see what it feels like, where most women said it feels like what it is, something sucking hard on your nipples every few seconds. So if pregnant women can survive having it done, so can I. Also, it's not like I have a lot of options.

"Alright, here I go," I say, pumping myself full of courage.

Trembling, I walk behind the bars. Once behind them, I bend over and then move my upper body between the two parallel bars. Stepping forward, I press my hips/crotch area against the bottom bar and stand the best that I can to grab hold of the top bar. Letting the back of my shoulders touch the bar, I stand as tall as I can.

This isn't so bad. It's not comfortable, but it could be much worse. Again, it's only for a few minutes. In a weird way, I sort of like it. Not sure why, but it feels...interesting. In a way it feels sexy.

Looking forward, my face reddens as I see the cameras pointed at me. I can't help but turn away in embarrassment as the red lights on them make me so nervous. It feels like a bunch of guns are pointed at me ordering me to do as I'm told. If only I could wear a mask or something to hide who I am. But Rod-Man said no. That it needed to be full face so his clients could see my reactions.

"Good, good," Rod-Man says happily as he and the other guy go camera to camera, checking each one.

Never have I felt so, well, stupid. Standing like this does feel a bit sexy, but overall it makes me feel stupid. It doesn't take me long to figure out why I feel like this either. It's because the way my body is positioned by the bars, it's making me stick out my chest and bottom. That's causing me to feel like I'm just an object.

Like I said, I'm not a prude or anything, but this is just strange. I mean, this isn't a brag but I've experimented, sexually. I've kissed other women and even let a boyfriend do anal on me, so I consider myself very modern. But this breast-milking kink just seems weird. How could anyone get off to it?

I know why they picked me to do this too. Well, besides the fact that I don't think many other women applied. It's because of my bust size. I happen to be, well, a tad bit overweight. I call it being a little chubby, but not by much as I only need to lose a few pounds. But due to this, my breasts are rather large. So when Rod-Man learned that I'm a G cup, that's all he needed.

"Hey! HEY! HEY!" I suddenly shout when the other guy, not Rod-Man, comes up on my right side and cuffs my right hand to the frame's pole. My head was turned the other way and looking at the pump machine that Rod-Man was wheeling out so I didn't notice what the guy was doing. I finally noticed when my wrist was cuffed causing the cold metal to touch me.

The other guy looks at me with a perplexed look, as if I knew this was to happen. He then turns to look at Rod-Man without saying anything. I then turn to look at Rod-Man as well seeing that he's clearly the one is charge.

I start to pull on my cuffed right hand, trying to break it free. The cuff is cuffed around the frame bar, not the parallel bar. If it were on the parallel bar I would be able to move it left and right at least.

Panic and fear flare as I think I've just been tricked. That they really brought me here to rape me on camera at the very least. Only now do I realize that I never considered this as the worst case scenario. That this could all be a trick to kidnap me and sell me off as a sex slave. Or maybe be the victim in some sick Dark Web Red Room snuff porno where I'll be beaten and eaten. The knowledge that I could become the girl from TAKEN never popped in my head before now.

"That's my fault, I'm sorry," Rod-Man apologizes sincerely as he sees me freaking out.

"I told him to do that," Rod-Man admits, putting his hands up in an apologetic manner.

"I honestly didn't think you would mind. It's just, you are really super-mega nervous, you know? I'm scared you may do something to damage the equipment, which cost a hell of a lot of money. You wouldn't do it on purpose, but in reaction, you know? So I told him to cuff you to make sure that doesn't happen. My bad. I'm sorry," Rod-Man explains seriously as he stands in front of me, saying all this while looking directly into my eyes and not my stuck out chest which lets me know he's being for real.

"Oh, ok," I reply after a beat, having not considered that. Upon hearing his explanation I start to relax. I am beyond nervous, so I can see his point. Just wish he would have told me, as I don't know I would have agreed to handcuffs.

"It won't take long, once we start ok? I promise you will be fine, alright? So...you good to go?" Rod-Man prompts now, clearly asking if I want to continue.

I bite my lip as I consider if I want to keep going. There's a part of me that screams for me to get the fuck out of here, but to be honest it's been screaming that before I even arrived. But being cuffed? That's getting dangerous.

But...I guess being cuffed wouldn't be that bad, right? I'll only be cuffed for a few minutes. I don't like the thought of being helpless, but I can understand why they want to do it. It wouldn't do any good to break their stuff because I would have to pay for it, even if I don't mean to do it.

"A-Alright, but it's only for a few minutes, and you will uncuff me if I ask you to?" I reply, showing that I am agreeing to continue if my conditions are met.

"Great! Of course. Any time you want to stop, we stop," Rod-Man exclaims, then motions for the guy to continue.

The dark haired man next to me moves to my other side now where he produces another pair of black metal handcuffs. This time I whimper as he grabs my wrist rather hard and pulls my arm out so my hand reaches the other frame bar. I'm stretched a bit at this, making me part my legs some to reach. Despite Rod-Man's reassurance that we will stop if I ask, I do get nervous as the cuff is snapped on.

My face reddens again as I survey my situation. My arms are stretched out pretty far as they are cuffed to either end of the frame bars. I'm basically stuck in this position. Worst of all, being like this makes me stick out my chest even more. It makes me feel like my breasts have a spotlight on them, like they are targets or something. That they are three times larger than they normally are.

"Alright everyone. Let's start. Three, two...one," Rod-Man calls out. When he says the word "three" bright flood lights suddenly turn on, flooding my vision with light. It hurts my eyes rather badly, causing me to cry out from the surprise. It's so insanely bright that even when I close my eyes I still see the blinding light.

"Please tell everyone your name and age," Rod-Man demands, his voice and tone changing. Instead of the understanding frat boy, he sounds stern and dominant like a reform school principal.

"And please look forward," Rod-Man adds as my head is turned and my eyes closed.

Knowing I need to get a move on, I do look forward where all I see is the light, making me feel like I'm being interrogated or something. There's no way to see Rod-Man now as he stands behind the lights.

"I'm L-Lori Anderson, and I'm n-nineteen years old," I answer, looking forward the best I can.

"And why are you here today Lori?" Rod-Man asks, per the script he gave me. I knew he was going to ask this, just like I know the answer I'm supposed to give. He gave me the script the day I applied to his ad. I know all the questions as well as all responses I'm supposed to give.

"To...to be, umm, to have my big breasts milked," I answer, my face reddening again which the cameras no doubt capture. Never in my life did I think I would say such a thing.

"What bra size are you Lori?" Rod-Man asks, which I wasn't expecting. That question wasn't in the script. He was supposed to ask my name and age, then get started. There were no other questions, at least not in the beginning. I know some stuff I'm supposed to say later, but this is new.

"I...I have G cups," I answer, feeling a little uncomfortable as that's personal information. More than that I feel a tad scared as he's gone off script, just like with the cuffs.

"Have you ever done anything with your breasts, sexually?" Rod-Man asks, making me tense up more as this wasn't in the script either.

I don't answer as I wasn't expecting that sort of question. He's gone far off script asking any my sex life as that's personal. I mean, my sex life is my own business. There was no mention of any sort of sexual questions. Plus, I don't really know what he means. Like have I let guys touch my boobs? Or is he talking about weird stuff like what he's about to do? I don't understand what he means.

"I..." I begin, not sure what to say. Do I ask what he means, or should I point out this wasn't part of the deal? I'm leaning towards the latter as I don't want to seem like a pushover.

Before I answer, I remember the $6,000. That amount of money makes me see the question in a different light. I guess answering an embarrassing question is worth that sort of money. After all, it's not that big of a thing, right?

"I let a boyfriend, you know, press them together and place his member between them," I confess, red faced as I've never told anyone this before. I gulp after revealing this, feeling rather dirty for admitting it. This isn't something I would tell anyone, not even my friends, yet I'm telling Pervert World.

For some reason not being able to see Rod-Man makes this feel more uncomfortable. I'm unable to see him or anything for that matter, which is rather scary. All I see is light, which feels like its burning my vision. What if he's doing something bad that I can't see? Like bringing out a cage to put me in?

Relax Lori, relax. He said you can trust him. And it's only for a few minutes. In a bit this will all be over. It'll be over and you will have the $6,000.

"You let him titty-fuck you? Nice. Very nice. With those size tits I can see why he would want to. Done anything else with them?" Rod-Man exclaims excitedly. His response makes my face stay red, where I think it's just going to stay like that. I mean he's making me feel like a prostitute.

"N-N-No. I mean, I've let a boyfriend or two, rather ex-boyfriends touch them, but that's about it," I answer, just wanting to get this over with.

Ten minutes. That's it. And that started about a minute ago. Nine more minutes and this is over.

"You let men grope and titty fuck those huge tits of yours. Nice. If I were your boyfriend, I don't think I could keep my hands off them. I'd tie those bad boys up, maybe slap them around some, even make you suck your own nipples in front of a mirror," Rod-Man tells me excitedly.

Hearing this makes me extremely uncomfortable. He's basically telling me how he would rape my tits if we were together. That makes me feel downright worried.

"Well, let's do what you want, which is why you came here. Let's punish those huge tits of yours then. Put them on her," Rod-Man directs his friend.

The other guy walks back to me where it is somewhat hard to see him as all I see is the light. But when he steps directly in front of me, I get a shock. He's wearing a ski mask now, when he didn't have one on before. It covers almost all of his face to hide his identity. Now all I see are those dark brown eyes of his.

The Ski Mask Man steps directing in front of me and grabs the bottom of my shirt. Knowing what is about to happen, I gulp and try to remain calm. This guy is going to slide the two breast pumps under my shirt so they attach to my nipples. There they will attach and pump away where I'll be recorded.

The guy pulls the bottom of my shirt outward, as if trying to stretch it out. I'm not sure why he does this, but it's clear he isn't trying to put any sort of pumps on me. He does this a few times, really trying to stretch the shirt. He does it so hard I hear the sound of fabric tearing around my collar. Ski Mask Man then stops and turns his head, no doubt trying to find Rod-Man.

"I see. I don't know man. I guess cut it off," Rod-Man tells his friend who didn't say anything at all. He never said his name, nor hello. All he did was turn and look at Rod-Man.

"Wait, what? You talking about my shirt?!" I protest at hearing 'cut it off.' My body tenses as this wasn't part of the deal. Rod-Man said he would put the pumps on me under my shirt. That no part of me needed to be exposed as what they want is facial reactions. That's the main reason I agreed to do this because I wouldn't have to show anything.

"Yeah, it's not ideal, but your shirt is too tight. No way we could get the pumps under it," Rod-Man explains in his new, serious tone. He's no longer apologetic, but stern. Like he is suggesting that if I have a better idea I need to share it.

"You...you could...get it...under," I say weakly, having worn this shirt because it was so baggy. Yet as I say this, it occurs to me that I don't know what the pumps look like, or how big they are. I see now I should have asked to see the machine to know just what to wear.