Make the Rent [Noncon, MF]

I guess it began like many things do: with money. I couldn’t pay the rent. What was I thinking moving in here when my job was tenuous, at best? In a sense, I lucked out because when I confessed to him I couldn’t make that month he said “Well. There are other ways to pay.”

There had always been some tension; I knew what he meant and didn’t protest even as my mind raced with what it would actually be like. He handed me a length of chain with a ring on one end so it could be looped through. “Wear that around your neck. If you really don’t want to, take it off and I won’t bother you at all. But when you have it on – you’re mine.”

I nodded, saying I understood. I held the chain in my palm; metallic smell and heavy weight. Slipping it into my pocket, I walked into my bedroom, alone. For days I left it in a drawer, just thinking. He acted towards me as he always had, except for the subtle peel of his eyes over my body. More penetrating than it had been before. Without realizing it I started to wear tighter clothes, ones that I knew showcased the curves of my breasts and bubble of my ass. The deadline for the rent check came and went; he must have paid it. The landlord didn’t bother us and he didn’t bother me, as he’d promised. I could feel him looking, always.

One day, when he was out of the apartment, I pulled the chain from the drawer and slipped it around my neck. Cold. I pulled it tight. Uncomfortable at first but settled into a pleasant sensation. I wasn’t feeling particularly horny, wasn’t wearing anything sexy, I just suddenly felt like doing it. I arched my neck in the mirror.

The rest of the afternoon I went about my day, nearly forgetting about it. By dusk I was reading on our couch when there he was. Home of course – why wouldn’t he be? He must have seen the flash of steel silver in the overhead light. From behind the couch he reached two strong hands around my breasts and squeezed. I started, flailing my arms.

“What –!”

He was kneading my tits, knuckles occasionally pinching the nipples. His hands suddenly gone, I felt empty for a moment until I felt him around my head. Big, round, silicon ball popped into my mouth, stretching my jaw and clenching around the back of my head. I couldn’t talk.

“You agreed to this,” he reminded me, “Your hands are still free. You can take the collar off, if you like.”

I kept it on.

Gagged, nothing but whimpers and moans escaped as he pulled me from the couch and against the wall. One hand up my shirt, kneading, the other moving down. Fiddling with the button; tugging at the zipper. His fingers were rough as they plunged against my clit and lips; cold, but that made me feel warmer. I folded as if to sit on him; as if to force his fingers into me right then and there.

“Patience,” he said and pinched my clit between his index and middle finger nails. I squealed through the gag.

He pulled my jeans down, socks off, over my ankles and then tapped between my thighs until I had spread myself as wide as possible. One hand on the nape of my neck, he licked down by back, around my ass and after a ruffle of zipper I could feel his cock at me. Drool dripped down from the gag; he caught it, running his finger along my lip and then bringing it into my vagina. My own spit wiped on me.

“Dirty girl, needs to learn a lesson,” he said. His cock was in me; I heard myself groan through the silicone. Thrusting; thrusting. I was on my toes. Full to the brim, I was pushed against the wall, feeling myself mount with him when he pulled out, moaning, and stepped back.

He let me go and I looked at him now, cock dripping with cum. But I still hadn’t finished. I thought I would drop to my knees and beg. He unhooked the gag and smiled at me.

“Can I have some more?” I said.

In a flash he had bent me over and given my ass a few sharp spanks.

“Tone,” he admonished, “That is no way to speak to me. And you haven’t earned it yet.”

“How do I speak to you?”

More spanks. “Ow, ow, ow,” I squeaked, gag off. He had one arm tight around my waist, pitching me down so I stared at the floor, my ass high in the air while he spanked me red.

He said, “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

I said, “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

He let me stand. He was dressed and I was half nude, ass on fire in the middle of my apartment, itching for more. I still had the collar on – I’d keep in there until he gave me what I wanted.

With a smirk, he hooked a finger up to my clit, and for a second tickled it. Just a second, though. It felt so good but then he stopped, and said to me, “No masturbating. Or there will be a *big* punishment. I’ll get you when I want you again. You haven’t earned your pay yet.”

He looked me in the eye, as if to seal the promise, and walked off, leaving me trembling for more.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/o04r52/make_the_rent_noncon_mf