My name is Dylan, and I’m a rapist…or at least I thought I was. Lying there in the dark, pretending to be asleep and listening for the tell-tale crackle of a police walkie-talkie from outside my apartment door, I wondered if Samantha was still in her bedroom. Wondered if she’d called the cops to tell them her roommate had raped her, or if she’d fled the apartment and was banging on our neighbors’ doors, desperately trying to find someone who’d help her.
I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so angry…so out of control…that I’d pinned her down on her bed, tore off her panties and fucked her.
Samantha wasn’t even supposed to be my roommate; Trevor was my roommate and she was his girlfriend. But I could never figure out why a nice guy like him went out with a girl like her.
Samantha was hot — there was no doubt about that. She had long, silky blonde hair that she kept pulled back from her beautiful, heart-shaped face and tied in a ponytail. And she was always walking around the apartment in tight yoga pants that showed off her toned thighs and her small, sexy ass, and wearing tiny tees that barely contained her mouth-watering tits. But Samantha was a bitch.
Trevor loved art and was taking graphic design at college. But she was always harping on him to change his major, telling him he’d never make money and that she didn’t plan on wasting her life with a broke loser. I wasn’t surprised when he dumped her, I just didn’t realize he was going to dump her on me.
When he moved out I assumed Samantha would be leaving too, but she stayed in the room and made it her own. I didn’t need the hassle of trying to find a new roommate during the middle of the term, so I let her stay. And Trevor had told me her parents were rich, so I knew paying the rent wouldn’t be a problem.
Wow, was I wrong. At first, she seemed like a great roommate, never coming out of her room unless she had to use the bathroom or the kitchen. I tried to be sociable and invited her to watch movies with me, or to hang out with my friends when they came over. But she always gave us the cold shoulder; I was lucky if I got a good morning or a good night.
My girlfriend hated Samantha and kept telling me to kick her out, but I had rent to pay and no time to look for a new roommate. And, like I said, she spent so much time in her bedroom it was like having an apartment to myself.
The only time I knocked on her door was on the last day of the month, as I was always chasing her for rent. As far as I knew, Samantha didn’t work, so I assumed her parents were sending her the money. To make things easier, she suggested that I give her my half of the rent and she would just give our landlady a post-dated check for each month.
Her arrangement exploded in my face just after school ended, as I was getting ready to go backpacking through South America with my girlfriend. My landlady, who lived outside of town, unexpectedly dropped by the apartment and informed me that I was being evicted.
I was stunned when she told me Samantha hadn’t paid our rent in over six months! When I asked her why she hadn’t called me as soon as we’d missed the first month’s rent, she said that she had. My ‘girlfriend’ Samantha had told her that I’d been laid off but would pay the back rent as soon as possible. She called every month after that, and Samantha stalled her with a new sob story every time.
I apologized to my landlady for the misunderstanding, thanked her for her unbelievable patience, and promised her she’d have every cent owed to her by the end of the weekend. Taking me at my word, she agreed to let me stay in the apartment. After she left, I shut the door and slammed my fist through the wall.
I’ve always taken pride in paying my debts and never owing anyone anything. When Samantha got home, I went ballistic.
She kept backing away from me, trying to calm me down while claiming the checks had been lost in the mail, or that there must have been a mix-up at the bank.
I told her I didn’t want to hear her any more of her lies, I wanted to know where the five thousand dollars I’d given her in rent over the last seven months was. She just bawled her eyes out and kept apologizing, telling me she’d get me my money.
I asked her if she was a crackhead, or a gambling addict or something, and she just kept crying, shaking her head no. And then I yelled that something must be wrong with her — that she was obviously fucking mental — and then she really went nuts.
Samantha threw punches at me and screamed that she’d get my money — all of it! I shoved her away from me, and warned her that if she was lying again, she’d regret it. With tears pouring down her face, she ran to her bedroom and slammed her door shut.
I should have kicked her door open and thrown her out right then, but I knew if I did I’d never see my money. And when Monday came, she had yet another excuse.
This time she claimed her mom was sending her the money, but she wouldn’t have it until the end of the week. I shouted at her that I was sick of her bullshit, and that Friday would be too late! We’d be evicted by then, and we’d both be homeless.
Samantha lost it again, shouting at me that she’d never be homeless and running to her room. When she slammed her door over and over, I was convinced — she was crazy!
I knew my landlady wouldn’t wait until Friday; I would have been evicted by then. So I went to the bank and, after withdrawing every cent of my savings, I had just enough to pay all the back rent owed, both Samantha’s share and mine.
I gave her all of the money I’d saved for tuition and all of the money I’d saved for vacation — my dream of backpacking through South America was over.
My girlfriend was furious, as we’d been planning the trip for over a year. She couldn’t understand why I’d paid Samantha’s share of the rent or why I hadn’t reported her to the police for fraud.
I tried to explain that it was my name on the lease, so I had to pay the rent. And I didn’t want Samantha going to jail — I wanted my money back.
I asked if we could postpone the trip until the following summer, but she said she was going with or without me. And she warned me: if I wasn’t on the plane when it left, don’t bother waiting at the airport for her when she gets back.
Friday night I was in my bed, wondering if her plane had landed yet and wishing that I were in the seat beside her.
But Samantha had ruined everything. Her lies had nearly got me evicted, had put my education at risk, and had cost me both my vacation and my girlfriend. When I heard the front door open, and heard her sneaking in a little after midnight, I was ready to punch a hole through my pillow.
Samantha had promised she’d have my money today, and I intended to collect.
Wearing only my boxers, I stormed down the hallway to her room and slammed her door open.
“What the hell?” she cried, as she tried to cover up her tits. She’d been in the middle of undressing for bed, and was only wearing a tiny pair of purple lace panties. “Get out of my room, Dylan!”
“I will, as soon as you give me my money.”
She turned her back to me, trying to hide her nakedness. “I don’t have it yet.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You said your parents would send you the money by today — I need the ten thousand dollars you owe me!”
“I only owe you five thousand dollars!”
“You owe me ten thousand — I had to pay your half of the rent too!”
“Well…you shouldn’t have. I didn’t ask you to.”
“Don’t you fucking understand, it’s my name on the lease so I had to pay it all! I’m not going to let my landlady get screwed over just because you’re some kind of scam artist!”
“I’m not a — ”
“Well, you’re some kind of a fucking mental case! You’re a fucking thief and you’re fucking crazy!”
“Fuck yourself! When are you going to get me my fucking money?”
She tried to cover her tits with one arm as she bent down and reached for her clothes. “I can give you five hundred dollars next month.”
“Five hundred…you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I screamed, as I kicked her clothes out of her hands.
Samantha nervously backed away from me. “I’m sorry…I don’t have your money.”
“I thought your parents were loaded?”
“Who told you that? My Mom isn’t rich, and my Dad’s dead.”
I didn’t know if I could believe a single word that came out of her mouth. “Samantha, I need the money you owe me! Call your mom and get her to take out a loan or something.”
“She can’t! They lost everything back when the market crashed. She barely makes ends meet now, she can’t help me!”
“Well I can’t make ends meet either — you stole my money! You didn’t pay the rent and you stole my fucking money!”
The upstairs neighbor hammered on the floor, and yelled for us to be quiet.
“I should kick your fucking ass out right now!” I whispered.
“You can’t, I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You think I care? I hope you end up living in a fucking dumpster!”
“Fuck you!” she screamed, and ran at me, teeth clenched, swinging and punching at me like a wild woman.
I grabbed Samantha’s wrists and forced her back on her bed, landing heavily on top of her as the neighbor upstairs pounded again on the floor.
Tears streamed down her face as she fought to get free. And I was glad; I wanted her to feel hurt, like she’d hurt me. I pinned her to the bed with all of my weight, and she arched her back, her nipples pressing against my bare chest as she writhed beneath me, struggling to break free.
I used my knees to keep her legs spread so she couldn’t gain any leverage and, as she twisted and struggled, her crotch ground against me and made my cock hard.
Samantha felt it pressed against her pussy and her eyes went wide with fear. I didn’t care; I wanted to scare her…I wanted her to be afraid of what would happen if she didn’t pay me.
I held her down on the bed, as she struggled to push me off, and my face was inches from hers as I growled, “Give me my money you crazy bitch!”
She turned her face away, sobbing. “Take my stuff instead: my movies, my books, my iPod.”
“Are you kidding me?” I said. “I don’t want your fucking junk, it’s worthless — you’re fucking worthless!”
I pinned both her wrists with one hand as I reached down and grabbed her waistband. “The only thing you’ve got worth anything is between your fucking legs!” I said, and tore her panties off.
Samantha gasped, as she realized she was now completely naked and the only thing between her cunt and my cock was a thin layer of cotton. And as she renewed her struggle to get out from underneath me, and I pressed forward to keep her arms held down, my cock broke free from my boxers.
The swollen head rubbed up and down her slit as she struggled, and she sobbed as she turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut. I wanted her afraid, I wanted her upset, so I ground my stiff prick between her legs and forced them even wider, but I’d only planned to scare her, I never intended to take it any farther.
Until she whispered, “Please, just don’t come inside me…”
I wish I’d left her room right then, but I still wanted to hurt her more, punish her more, for stealing from me and betraying the trust I’d placed in her.
I shoved my boxers down and forced the head of my cock between her pussy lips. Samantha was tight and dry and cried out as I rammed my prick as deep as I could, clenching her teeth while I fucked her. I kept pulling back and thrusting into her as hard as I could, trying to push her right through the bed.
She kept whimpering as I assaulted her pussy, her eyes squeezed shut and biting her lip as I slammed into her with full force. I held her down by her throat as I reached up and groped her breast; her nipples were rock hard.
Samantha put her hands on my chest and looked between her spread legs. Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide as she watched my thick pole pounding into her, fucking her like a jackhammer.
I hammered her as hard and fast as I could, trying to make sure she didn’t enjoy a second of it. She was like a rag doll as I pinned her down to the bed and fucked her harder than I’d ever fucked a woman before, her bed slamming against the wall with each thrust.
As she watched me, gasping and giving out sharp cries as I pounded her, I could feel my balls tightening. I should have come inside her, should have ignored her only request. But I didn’t, I pulled out and shot a thick rope of cum that splattered across her taut stomach.
She moaned as the hot, sticky fluid landed on her.
I looked down at Samantha, naked on the bed, covered in cum, her eyes wide with fear and her pussy swollen and raw. I couldn’t say a word. I went to my room and fell on my bed in the dark, instantly regretting what had happened. Mad at myself for losing control.
I was sure that Samantha would call the police; she’d tell them I’d raped her, and she’d have plenty of evidence. I knew I wouldn’t argue if they came for me, I knew I could have stopped if I’d wanted to. She didn’t say no, but she didn’t say yes.
I didn’t know how I’d be able to face my friends or my parents or my ex-girlfriend if they discovered what I’d done. And I didn’t know how I could face Samantha in the morning.
When I opened my eyes I was surprised to see daylight, and I was surprised that I was still in my bed and not in a cell. I tiptoed out of my room and saw that Samantha was already up, sitting on the couch and drinking coffee.
I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t even look her in the eye. But I knew she was watching me as I poured my coffee. And I knew there was only one thing I could do.
“I’m moving out,” I said.
Samantha sat up in surprise. “Why? I told you I’d get you your money.”
“I just figured…after what happened last night.”
She leaned back and took a sip of her coffee, watching me over the rim of her mug. “It’s okay,” she said. “Let’s just forget it ever happened.”
“Are you serious? After what I did to you…you can just forget about it?”
“Well, I’m not going to forget about it, but I’m not going to tell anyone what you did either…you didn’t hurt me. And I need a place to live and I need a roommate. I promise I’ll pay you back all of your money. Please, don’t move out.”
I couldn’t figure Samantha out. After I’d held her down and fucked her, I thought she’d hate me, or at the least be afraid of me. But it was just the opposite. She started coming out of her room more often, was actually polite, and even watched a movie with me once. I thought she’d changed. I should have realized she hadn’t.
The end of the month came and I asked her for her half of the rent and the five hundred dollars she’d promised me. I couldn’t believe my ears when she told me she didn’t have either!
I slammed the book I’d been reading down on the coffee table. “Are you fucking kidding me? After everything we went through last month, you have the nerve to tell me you can’t pay the rent again?”
“I’m sorry! I haven’t been able to find a decent job, and I can’t ask my Mom for money!”
“Samantha, I can’t afford to pay the whole rent! Between that and the food and the bills, I barely have enough to survive. Why would you think you could keep living here when you knew you couldn’t pay the rent?”
She brushed her hair behind her ear, sat down on the couch beside me and put her hand on my thigh. “Why can’t I just pay the rent like I did last month?”
I did a double take. “Are you serious? You didn’t pay me any rent last month!”
“But…when I let you have sex with me…I thought that made us even.”
“When you let me…you thought that was the rent?” I said, as I shoved her hand away. “That wouldn’t even cover the interest on what you owe me! I don’t need sex from you, I need my fucking money!”
Tears welled in Samantha’s eyes and she ran to her room, embarrassed and hurt. I noticed that she’d left her door open, but there was no way I wanted a repeat of last month; I didn’t want her thinking she could trade a piece of ass for the rent.
I had no choice, and paid my landlady the full amount. I wanted so badly to kick Samantha out. All I wanted was a roommate who would just pay their share of the rent on time. But I also wanted to get the money she owed me, even though I was starting to think that would never happen. I also noticed that she was not only living in my apartment for free, she was now eating my food too. I couldn’t afford a charity case. I had to find a way to convince her to do whatever it took to get my money.
When she came in late from the library the next night, she quietly locked the front door and tried to sneak to her room. I paused the movie I was watching and called her into the living room.
Samantha knew I was still steaming over the money she owed me, and she tried to change the subject. Picking up the DVD case off the table, she said, “Soylent Green? I never heard of it, is it any good?”
“You wouldn’t like it,” I said, and took the case out of her hands.
Standing up, I pointed to the couch. “Sit down, I’ve got something to say to you.”
She sat as instructed and looked up at me nervously. “Please, don’t kick me out,” she whispered.
“I need you to understand me,” I said. “I want all of the money you owe me — every cent. Not only the ten thousand dollars you already owe me, but also all of the money you’re costing me now in rent and food. Our lease is up in four months, if you don’t get my money by then, I’ll throw you out and sue your ass off!”
Samantha nodded. “I promise, I’ll get it for you.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I wish I could fucking believe you, but I know I can’t. So, until you pay me, you’re not my roommate — you’re furniture.”
“What do you mean…furniture?”
“You’re furniture. This is my apartment — all of it — even your room and everything in it. As long as you stay here, and don’t pay me the money you owe me, you’re not my roommate — you belong to me. You’re going to do all the cooking, cleaning, laundry…anything I tell you to.”
“What do you mean…anything?”
“Anything,” I said, and started undoing my pants.
Her eyes went wide and she tried to back away from me.
“That’s the deal. I get to do anything I want, or you move out and let me know where to pick up my money. So are you in,” I asked, and nodded toward the front door, “or are you out?”
Samantha stared at my stiff, swollen cock, and answered by opening her mouth partway.
I stepped forward and forced her mouth fully open when I stuffed my thick shaft between her lips. She went to put her hand on my hip to slow me down and I knocked it away. I grabbed her ponytail, pulled on it to tilt her head back, and slid my cock down her throat. She gagged when I went too deep and tried to back away, but I grabbed her head and stuffed it down her throat again.
Her eyes were bugging out as I pounded my prick between her stretched lips. I didn’t even let her suck me; I just fucked her mouth in the middle of the living room. I could feel her sliding her tongue along the underside of my cock as I pumped it between her lips, and if I went any deeper my balls would have been bouncing off her chin.
I was in control, not her. I made her keep her hands at her side as I held her head and abused her mouth until I was ready to come. I pulled my cock out and she gasped for air, watching my eyes as I jacked it toward her face. When I blew my load, cum shot all over her chin and neck and down her front and onto the couch.
“Hey!” she said. “You got cum all over my shirt!”
“You mean my shirt. Until you pay me, everything you own is mine. Clean this mess up,” I said, and went to bed.
I lay in the dark almost wishing she’d call the cops. At least when I was in jail I’d have a new roommate. But I knew that I couldn’t let her get comfortable with the current arrangement. I had to make sure she’d want to pay me back as soon as possible, as I needed the money if I was going to be able to keep going to college next term. After forcing her to suck me off, I was sure she’d be speed dialing her mom and begging her for the money.
But when I woke up the next morning, everything appeared to be back to normal. After checking the living room, and seeing she’d cleaned up all the cum, I went to her bedroom, but she wasn’t in there. Her shirt was tossed on the floor and, when I picked it up, I saw it was covered in dried cum. And then I heard the shower start.
She was startled when I jerked the shower curtain open and stepped into the tub behind her, completely naked.
“Wh — what do you want?”
“I want to use my shower.”
“But, I’m already using it.”
“Like I told you last night, this is my shower. You’re furniture, if you want to use my shower, you can use it when I’m in it. But you better be fast, because I don’t take half hour showers like you do.”
Samantha hurriedly shampooed her long, blonde hair as I stood behind her. I watched the hot water run down her sleek back and through the crack of her perfectly curved ass. My cock was getting erect, and she jumped when I moved forward and let it brush between her legs.
I turned her around, grabbed her hand with the soap in it, and told her to wash me. She nodded and soaped my whole body, everywhere but my swollen cock. I pushed her hand down toward it and she pulled away.
“I already got you off last night,” she said.
“I don’t think you understand — you’re furniture now. You’ve got about as much say as the coffee table. Until you pay me my money, your hand, your mouth, your cunt and your ass are mine.”
“If you try to stick it in my ass, I’ll…I’ll leave!”
“Then you’d better get my money before I’m tempted to. Because, until you do, I’ll use you however I want to, and you’ll get me off as many times as I tell you to. If you’re not happy with that deal, you’re free to get the fuck out any time you like. Now clean my cock.”
Samantha nervously soaped my balls and my erection, and then moved back to let the shower wash me clean. She went to get out of the tub and I stopped her, and told her she hadn’t finished. I wrapped her hand around my rock-hard shaft.
“I said clean my cock.”
She finally understood and started jerking me off as I played with her firm, round tits, which were a perfect handful, and groped her ass. She gasped as I slid a finger into her wet pussy and just jerked me faster, trying to get it over with. Finally, I grunted off a stream of cum and she kept pumping me and squeezing my swollen balls until I was drained. Then I got out of the shower, without even a thank you, took her towel and went to my room.
The first week of our new arrangement Samantha avoided me as often as she could, cleaning when I wasn’t around and leaving food for me as she ran out to study at the library, instead of her room. I couldn’t stop her from going out, she wasn’t a prisoner, but when she was at home I made sure to remind her of her place.
When I was watching football Monday night, I made her suck me off on the couch during halftime. And one morning before I went to work, right after she’d made me breakfast, I bent her over the dining room table, pushed her pants halfway down and fucked her before she could sneak away to the library.
I knew by the end of the week Samantha had accepted the situation when she came home late and I was already in bed. She didn’t even wait for me to ask, she just came into my room, undressed, straddled my cock, rode me until I came, and then went to her bedroom to get some sleep.
She seemed to think that the best way to control the situation was to try to keep my balls drained. It became her morning ritual to suck me off in the shower or kneel in the tub while I fucked her from behind. And it was working.
I hadn’t been so drained in my life, even when I had steady girlfriends they never made me come as often as Samantha did. I was starting to enjoy our arrangement, but that didn’t change the fact that I needed my money. I knew that she needed another reminder that she still had to pay me. I didn’t want her to think that her pussy and mouth was paying off her debt.
My friend Cameron often came over to play video games and watch old seventies sci-fi movies. I know he thought Samantha was smoking hot; she couldn’t stand him. So I invited him over and we were hanging out in the living room when she came home from the library.
When she walked in and saw Cameron, who waved hello, she ignored him and turned to go to her bedroom. I could see she was apprehensive when I ordered her to get her ass back in the living room.
I told her we needed a couple of beers and Cameron was amazed when she actually brought them. Samantha went to leave but I stopped her.
“What do you need now?” she asked.
“Take your top off.”
Cameron and Samantha both froze, neither believing what they’d just heard. She knew I often forced her to strip, but never when anyone else had been around.
She turned to go to her room.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
“Umm, to take my top off, like you told me to?”
“Take it off here, in front of us.”
Knowing she had no choice, she reluctantly pulled her tight, long-sleeved shirt over her head.
Cameron had no idea what was going on, and tried to pretend he was more interested in the video game we were playing while sneaking peeks at Samantha’s luscious tits, pushed up invitingly by a sexy pink bra with a little white ribbon on the front.
“Take off your bra too,” I said.
Cameron’s jaw dropped as he turned to look first at me and then at Samantha, who was pleading with her eyes for me not to make her do this.
“You know the deal,” I said. “Or did you find a way to pay me back?”
I turned back to the video game, racking up kills on Cameron’s motionless character as he sat frozen on the couch, watching Samantha unhook her bra.
As it slid off her shoulders, she brought her hands up to cover her firm, round tits.
I paused the game and looked at Cameron, who must have thought he was dreaming.
“Move your hands,” I said. “Show Cameron your tits.”
Samantha slowly lowered her hands and looked down, embarrassed as Cameron gawked at her gorgeous globes.
I hooked my hand through her waistband and pulled her closer. When I went to unbutton her jeans, she quickly pushed my hand away.
“Dylan, please,” she whispered.
I knocked her hand away, unbuttoned her jeans and slid them to the floor.
Samantha tried not to meet Cameron’s eyes, but he wasn’t staring at her face; his gaze was firmly on the little triangle between her legs, barely covered by her matching pink panties.
“Dylan,” he said. “Tell me the truth, I’m dreaming, right?”
I laughed. “Nope, you’re wide awake, Cameron.”
“Then what the hell is going on, why is Samantha letting you undress her?”
“You remember the movie Soylent Green?”
“With Charlton Heston?”
“Yeah…you remember the best part of the movie?”
“When they find out they’re really eating people?”
“No, the best part — the furniture.”
Cameron nodded. “Oh yeah, the girls…the furniture. You’re right, that was the best part.”
“Well, Samantha and I have an arrangement. She’s my furniture.”
Cameron’s jaw dropped. “No fucking way!”
“Yep, Samantha owes me a lot of money, and she’s agreed that, until she pays, I can do anything I want with her.”
I told Samantha to turn around and, when she did, I slid her panties down. I reached up and squeezed her firm butt cheek. “She’s mine to do whatever I want with…isn’t that right, Samantha?”
She half turned her head and nodded.
“You mean…anything?” said Cameron.
I dipped my finger between her legs and she gasped as I brushed her wet pussy. “Anything.”
I ordered Samantha to sit between us on the couch. She was red with embarrassment as she crossed her legs, covered her tits with her hands and leaned against me, trying to get as far away from Cameron as she could. I smiled, knowing my plan was working; she hated being on display, and I knew she’d be trying to get my money as soon as possible.
I started to play the game again while Samantha hugged my arm, trying to hide her nakedness against me.
As she leaned over, Cameron wasn’t paying attention to the game; he was looking at the curve of her beautiful ass and trying to get another glimpse between her legs. He reached out his hand and tentatively brushed his fingers along her hip toward her ass.
“Dylan,” he said, as she tried to twist away from his touch, “maybe we can work out a deal? I’ll help pay off her debt, and I get to use her too?”
Samantha’s eyes went wide with fear and I knew things were spinning out of control. I was just trying to make her uncomfortable, I didn’t mean for it to go this far.
“Uh, no thanks. Samantha has to pay off her own debt.”
“Please, dude.” He reached out to touch her tit and she slapped his hand away. “I’ll give you five hundred bucks if you make her blow me. Hell, I’ll give you two hundred if you just tell her to give me a handjob. You don’t know how many nights after seeing her here I’ve gone home and — ”
“Cameron,” I said, cutting him off before he could finish. “She’s not for sale.”
I told him it was time to go and, as I steered him toward the front door, he kept pleading with me and raising his offer as he tried to get one last glimpse of Samantha.
After he’d left, I went back in the living room and, as she was picking up her clothes, she thanked me.
“What are you thanking me for?” I said, as I pulled her clothes out of her hand and pushed her back down on the couch.
Samantha instinctively started to undo my belt so she could pull my pants down. “Thanks for telling him I wasn’t for sale.”
“I told him you weren’t for sale,” I said, as I stuffed my stiff prick into her mouth. “That doesn’t mean I won’t rent you out if you don’t get my money soon.”
Her eyes went wide as I pumped my pole between her lips. Her soft tongue worked my cock over while she jacked my shaft with her hand. After a few minutes of sucking, I pulled my tool out from between her wet lips and bent her over the couch.
“You can’t let your friends fuck me,” she moaned, as I rubbed my knob against her swollen pussy from behind. “Our deal is that only you get to fuck me.”
“Our deal is that I get to do anything I want with you until you pay me my money. So you’d better get it soon, or there will be a lineup of my friends outside your door waiting to get sucked and fucked.”
I rubbed the head of my cock against her sopping slit until it was wet with her pussy juice. Then I rubbed it in little circles against her tight, virgin sphincter.
“Dylan, please…not there,” she said, and tried to push my cock away.
I knocked her hand back. “I told you Samantha, I can do whatever I want with your body. If you don’t pay me soon, you’re going to find out what it’s like to get fucked in all of your holes at the same time.”
I dipped my cock between her legs and rammed it inside her cunt. She moaned as I drove her against the couch and started to bang away. She reached back to place a hand on my hip to stop me from going too deep, but I grabbed both of her wrists and held them behind her back. She was helpless as I fucked her hard, my hips smacking against her pale ass.
Her cheeks were turning red from the pounding I was giving her, and she moaned as I fucked her harder and harder. I let go of her wrists and she clutched the cushions of the couch while I grabbed her shoulders and pistoned my cock in and out of her tight hole.
Samantha kept thrashing her head from side to side as I hammered her until her ponytail came loose. Her long blonde hair was splayed across the couch and she groaned, her toes curling, as I drove deeper and deeper. Finally, I felt my balls tightening.
I quickly jumped up and spun her around to face me as I jacked my cock toward her face. She had expected me to come on her tits, and was surprised when I crammed my cock between her lips. My prick was slick from being in her cunt and she licked and sucked her juices off my swollen shaft as I fed it to her.
I groaned as I filled her mouth with cum. She gagged as my hot load hit the back of her throat and tried to pull away, but I didn’t let her.
“Swallow it all,” I said, as I forced her to keep sucking my cock.
Samantha’s eyes watered as she choked on my cum. Her mouth was stretched around my thick cock and she tried to breathe through her nose as she struggled to get it all down. When I finally slid my drained cock from between her lips, she tilted her head back and opened her mouth to show me she’d swallowed every drop.
“Go have a shower and get cleaned up,” I said, as she tried to catch her breath. “And then come sleep in my bedroom, I’ve got to get up early for work and I want to fuck you again before I leave.”
After that, I made Samantha sleep in my bed every night and the morning blowjob in the shower became the morning fuck. If she woke up first, she’d suck my cock hard and ride me like a cowgirl. If I woke up first, I’d tease her pussy until she was wet and slide my pole into her while she was still sleeping. It became a game for both of us to see how far we could get before waking each other up.
I fucked or got sucked by Samantha night and day, in every room of our apartment. But no matter how many times I used and abused her body, she didn’t seem at all interested in paying off her debt. She hadn’t offered me a cent since our arrangement had started, and I eventually stopped asking her. I’d learned that there were more important things in life than money. Sex with Samantha was the hottest action I’d ever had, and I was starting to worry that she’d actually pay me back and end our arrangement.
So I was taken aback when she came home one night and told me she’d found a way to get some of my money. I thought she’d taken a job as a waitress; I was shocked when I learned how she planned to earn it.
“Cameron caught up to me as I was walking home,” said Samantha. “He said he’d pay you two thousand dollars if he could spend the night with me. And I know you need money for your tuition…”
I was speechless. Samantha was the sexiest and most beautiful girl I’d ever been with, and there was no way I was ever going to share her with anyone else. I knew she’d never truly been mine, but I worried about what our arrangement was doing to her, if she was so desperate to get my money that she’d sleep with Cameron.
“Forget about it,” I said, “our deal’s over.”
Panicking, she dropped to her knees and fumbled with my belt. “I’m sorry, Dylan, I’ll get you all of your money…I just need more time! Don’t kick me out, you can do anything you want with me — anything…”
I pulled her hands away and brushed a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. “Samantha, you’ve paid your debt. You’re not furniture anymore — you’re my roommate. The money you owed me…I’d been saving that for my vacation. But these last two months with you have been the best two months of my life. I can always earn more money; this summer was priceless.”
Samantha blinked, as if she didn’t understand. “But…won’t you kick me out? If I can’t pay my rent?”
“Well, if you can come up with rent — without sleeping with Cameron — that would be great. But if you can’t, don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure you always have a place to stay.”
Tears of relief streamed down Samantha’s face, and she went to sleep in her own bed for the first time in weeks.
The next morning it felt weird to be showering alone, and not having Samantha on her knees in front of me, fondling my balls while she sucked my cock clean. I came out of the shower only wearing a towel, and was surprised to see a strange woman sitting at our dining room table.
After I’d quickly dressed, Samantha introduced us.
“Dylan, this is my mom, Angela,” she said, and excused herself while she hopped in the shower and got ready.
“Nice to finally meet you, Dylan,” said Angela. She was beautiful, like her daughter, and well groomed and impeccably dressed.
“I apologize for dropping by your apartment so early, but I’ve been worried about Sam. I’ve been leaving her messages, but she hasn’t returned any of them, so I flew out here this morning. Has everything been okay?”
“I guess so,” I said, with a shrug. “I know there’s been some…financial problems that have bothered her, but other than that, she seems fine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, I know how expensive college can be. But I’m sure that if you need to borrow money, Sam would be glad to help.”
I nearly spit out my coffee. “I’m not the one having financial problems — Samantha is!”
“What are you talking about? Sam has a six-figure trust fund her father left her.”
My jaw dropped. “A trust fund? She hasn’t paid rent in over nine months, and she owes me over ten thousand dollars — she told me you guys were broke!”
Angela’s eyes went wide with fear and she covered her mouth in shock. “Oh my god…it’s back!
“I knew I should have come sooner, but she insisted she was better.” Angela stood and looked toward the bathroom, making sure Samantha couldn’t hear her. “She must have stopped taking her medication…I knew I shouldn’t have let her quit therapy.”
“Samantha’s mentally ill, she has an anxiety disorder — peniaphobia.”
“What’s that?” I said, hoping it wasn’t what it sounded like.
“Peniaphobia is an abnormal fear of poverty, and for Sam…the fear can be overpowering. When she was young we were wealthy and lived in a big, beautiful house, but my husband lost it all in the dot-com crash. We were forced to sell everything and, when we moved, Sam had to leave both her school and her friends behind.
“We moved to a tiny one-room apartment and we were very poor. We knew Sam took the loss hard, but we didn’t realize how hard until later. When she was nine or ten we started to notice little signs…like hoarding money…refusing to leave her bedroom…and getting very emotional anytime we spent a cent.”
Angela paused, took a deep breath, and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “We took her to a psychiatrist, and she was diagnosed with peniaphobia.
“Before he died two years ago, my husband had recovered most of the money he’d lost. Even though he made sure we’d be taken care of financially for the rest of our lives, Sam is still terrified of returning to poverty. She has a crippling fear of being poor, and will go to irrational lengths to prevent it…hiding her money…never leaving her room…anything to keep from losing her home again.”
“But…if Samantha has all this money…why would she still be afraid of being poor?”
“It’s not simply to do with money, Dylan, it also has to do with highly emotional issues like survival, identity, happiness, self-worth and meaning. So many people your age worry about their future, for Sam these fears are tenfold.”
As Samantha turned off the shower, Angela took my hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get every cent you’re owed, and Sam is going back into treatment immediately.”
After the two of them left, I collapsed on the couch. I couldn’t believe what a dick I’d been. Samantha’s emotional outbursts and strange behavior were a cry for help. But instead of trying to find out what was wrong, or taking care of her, I fucked her in every room of our apartment, forced her to suck my cock almost daily and humiliated her by making her strip in front of my friend.
I was so blinded by my own obsession with money that I failed to see her problems. Now I realized why she’d acted so strangely when it came to her boyfriend, money and food, and why she’d got so upset every time I threatened to kick her out.
Samantha never came home, and the next day her mom phoned me to let me know that she was back in treatment and would be moving out of the apartment. And, as promised, my money was in my account the following Monday — every cent with interest.
About a week later, the two of them showed up with a moving company to take her stuff away. While her mom talked with the movers, I pulled Samantha aside so I could talk to her alone.
“My mom said she told you about my…problem,” she said. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything that happened…for stealing your money, and not paying the rent.”
“Samantha, I don’t care about that. I’m the one who should say sorry…”
“I just wanted to say I’m…I’m sorry you’re moving out, you were a great roommate and I shouldn’t have — ”
“What do you mean?” she interrupted. “We’re still going to be roommates.”
“But…I thought you were moving out?”
“I am, my Mom insisted on leasing me a luxury apartment right near the college. She’s pre-paid all the rent and bills until I’ve graduated.”
“Then how are we going to be roommates?”
“It’s a big, empty apartment,” she said, smiling as she reached down and squeezed my cock through my pants. “I’m going to need some furniture.”