1 comments/ 10777 views/ 9 favorites Mme Anne's Home for Boys Ch. 01 By: queenhobart Residence Life: off campus. Women 18-35. Live-in position, expenses paid. Pay negotiable. Contact Mme Anne. That was all the ad said. I know what it looks like, and if I'm honest, I may've known, deep down, what it looked like back then, too. But it was the summer of 2009-I had graduated in 2008, at the worst part of the Great Recession. I'd spent the better part of a year sending resumes into what felt like an endless abyss. Responses were rare, and in all of my group interviews, me and my BA in English Lit were competing against people 10 or 20 years older than me with more experience. It was as if no employers appreciated my ability to analyze sexuality and gender in early modern literature or that I could churn out a 15 page paper on 3 lines of Browning. That's fair. I was tired of that joke by then too. So I applied for literally every job I appeared qualified for, many that I did not. And Mme Anne called back. Simple as that. "You read the ad?" She asked, simple, curt, without even a greeting. "Oh, um, yes, my name is," I stammered. "Mm. The address is 735 Jefferson. Come in the back." click. If you're old enough, or young enough, to remember, you will probably understand why I went there, with so little information. My loan grace period would be over in 15 days. I had not had a job for more than a month in the past 9. My roommate had left earlier that month to go WWOOFING or Teach for America-ing or live in a yurt on a commune or some damn thing. So I put on my best interview clothes and took the train as far as I could, then walked. And walked. And walked. Back then, I could walk pretty far. Walking wasn't without its hazards, of course. "Hey, baby, why you walking? Come on in here with them blowjob lips of yours," Some white asshole trying to impress his black friends would holler from a passing car. "You look skinny, mami! Got something for you to eat in here!" "Fuck you," I'd shout, from a safe distance. "Come on in, then!" I wondered then, like I wonder now, what would happen if a woman ever took one of those assholes up on their harassment. What if I had honestly hollered across the street and said , "Pull into the alley, I'll suck you dry!"? What if I just hiked my dress up and presented to those hardhat asshats with jackhammers, spread my cheeks and told them to do what they claimed they wanted to do? Pussies, the whole lot of them. *** 735 Jefferson was a nice, large house, but not much more could be said for it. Some Greek Letters I did not recognize out front, a big, brick mini-mansion identical to those around it. I walked to the back door, as per instructions, and knocked once. A woman in a trim black pant suit opened the door at once, and motioned for me to come inside. She raised an elegant hand over her shoulder and snapped, indicating that I follow her. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, her cheekbones high, her skin uncommonly healthy for a woman who appeared to be her age. I'm not queer enough to call myself bi, really, but I was still sure I'd be thinking of her later, maybe even with the suit on... "You are here about the ad?" She asked. "Yes, my name is..." She cut me off again. "Irrelevant, for now," she said, opening and office door and showing me in. "So. You read the ad. You appear between 18 and 25, and are willing to answer an ad that promises free living quarters and little else," I laughed nervously, "It's hard out there." "Yes, quite. Tell me, are you on birth control?" I was startled by this question, but answered nonetheless. "Um, yeah," "What sort?" She said, not looking up from her clipboard where she made furious notes. "Just the pill?" She nodded , curt, "Our agency has excellent healthcare. We may provide for more permanent birth control, such as IUD, if you are willing." I shrugged "I'd never thought about it. I guess that'd be nice," "No diseases? Drugs?" she continued. I had been asked stranger at interviews and answered without hesitation. "No, not really," "Not really?" I blushed. "Weed, a little. And a touch of asthma" She shook her head, "Bad for you, but I hardly care about that," "Before we go any further, I need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement," she said, pushing a paper across the desk, "stating that you will not disclose any information you may uncover in this interview to any person, publication or other media entity." A member of the digital agreement generation, I signed, without reading a word. "Quite good," she said, not even glancing at my name. "Now, as for what this organization does," she leaned forward, fingers tented, "we protect the education interests of certain young men," "Like, tutoring?" She smirked. "Somewhat like that. You see, our organization hosts the sons of some of the wealthiest families in the world. Oil magnates, sons of CEOs, minor princes. The odd American political son. They are, quite literally, the future of the global economy. The weight of this is quite the burden, as you could imagine." I could not imagine. My bra was held together with duct tape and I only still had internet at home because my roommate had forgotten to cancel it before she went to Tibet or Tuscon or wherever. "The problem then, is that they are boys, rich boys, but boys nonetheless. And young men, they think with their cocks," she said, not dropping her gaze from mine. I laughed, "Am I right, ladies?" She did not laugh. "Ok, then what does that mean for your organization? Is this some kind of Christian abstinence thing?" She did laugh then. "I am glad you asked. You see, these silly boys' parents pay us quite well to keep their sons out of trouble. Do you understand me, miss?" I pressed my lips together. It was an urban legend, of course, it had to be, but back in college, somebody's cousin had a Chinese roommate whose International Jet-Line owning parents bought him one of those creepy sex dolls that look like lobotomized Lara Crofts. Maybe it wasn't an urban legend? "I believe I may understand." "Excellent. It's so crass when I have to spell it out for younger women. The problem we are currently experiencing is a lack of young women. You may be aware that young ladies are the largest demographic of people with Masters' degrees? It's a brave new world out there, with so much opportunity and debt to 'lean in' to. Mme Ann clucked her tongue in disapproval, and I could only imagine other things her tongue would be good at... " But no matter. You see, they are very exacting, these boys, and there are just certain things that a young woman can do that a mature one cannot. I am also their Matron, after all. It would hardly do to let some of these young scamps ass-fuck their Matron, would it?" "I..." I knew I should leave, and never speak of this again, but I was frozen to the spot, my panties growing wet. "The healthcare and compensation are quite fair, though, for your duties," she said, pushing a piece of paper across the desk. I tried not to gasp at the number. "Tax-free, as well," she added, "we are a non-profit, you are technically a volunteer." I looked up, shocked. "Is this...legal?" "I should hope, given the amount of senator's sons here," she smiled then, a genuine smile, and intentional crack in her ice-queen presentation. "Health, 401k...dental?" There was a knock at the door just then. She smiled again. "Ah, you're in luck," one of our young men is here now for his appointment with me. Come in," she called. A tall, blonde boy entered the room, looking startled at me. He could not have been a year younger than me, but looked more mature, healthier, glowing with wealth and health in his pressed blazer-the type I'd only ever seen on actors who play rich assholes in movies, that I had not known existed in real life until that second. "If you have a visitor..." "No, darling, come, sit. She's trying for the new position." He smiled, laughed a little to himself. "cool," he whispered. "Don't be shy," Mme Anne chided. He blushed and unzipped his slacks. His cock, shrunken by nerves, flopped out pitifully. She glanced at me, as she took it in her hands "Do remember this is an interview." I nodded , as I watched, fascinated, as she massaged his cock to half-firmness. She swatted the head of his cock playfully. "What is the matter with you? Shy, all of the sudden?" He blushed. "Perhaps she can make you feel less nervous?" she asked, nodding toward me as she started to stroke his cock. He nodded. "Use your words," Mme Anne demanded. "I want to see her tits," the boy spoke, a New England accent deep with young manhood. "Say it to her then," "I want to see your tits," he gasped, and his dick twitched upward. Mme Ann made a show of ignoring me. Hesitantly, I pulled my jacket off, then my button-down. "No," he demanded "leave that on. Just open," Mme Ann was stroking faster now, and his breath had grown ragged. "Oh, god, you're pretty," he gasped "both of you," Mme Ann stepped away. "Finish him," Without hesitation, I knelt down, pushing my tits together. I had Ds, just large enough for a decent tit-fucking. When this sent him into groaning hysterics, I dropped my head lower, took him into my mouth. It'd been so long since I had sucked a man off, I'd nearly forgotten the taste, that odd saltiness, I was positively nostalgic before he grabbed the back of my head, took a fistful of my carefully styled interview-hair and shoved my head down on his cock so violently I gagged. "Oh, god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He chanted, but it was just the nonsense that enters mens' heads as they begin to orgasm. He came in spurts, coating my face and breasts in his thick cum. He rested a moment, breathed quietly. "I really am sorry," he whispered, and produced a tissue from his pocket, trying to wipe his cum from my chest." "Really, Jason, how chivalrous," Mme Ann chided "but I believe this nice young lady can handle herself. You are dismissed." He zipped himself up, nodded politely, and left. Simple as that. Mme Anne opened a drawer on her desk and produced some baby wipes. "They underestimate the stickiness of their spunk, don't they? Cursed evolution." I nodded as I wiped my face and breasts. "So that's how we keep the boys out of trouble? Fucking them? Sucking them off?" She nodded. "Some of them. Others want...well, other things. But we are safe women, and that is the difference. It's only natural that boys on the cusp of being such powerful men have these burgeoning appetites. They do not have time for dating, for getting some opportunist pregnant, for disease or perhaps most importantly, for love," I slowly re-buttoned my shirt, the trails the pretty young man's cum left on me still a little sticky. "We fill those appetites for those pretty young things. I the elder disciplinarian, and you...well, your role would be more flexible," she said. "And I don't have to do everything, right?" She raised an eyebrow. "For what we are paying you, you are allowed 1 hard limit, in addition to any illegal acts. You will have a trial period, in which you will be trained, of course," You understand, or you would, if you had been that age in that year. I was 22 competing with 30 year olds for temp secretary jobs, I hadn't seen the doctor for a year, I was reasonably sure I needed a filling and my apartment had a cockroach infestation so severe I believe it must've been vital to the structural integrity of the building. And all told, was fucking rich boys really such a bad job? "Of course," I repeated, the taste of salty cock still on my lips. "Where do I sign?" Mme Anne's Home for Boys Ch. 02 Mme Anne ran copies of my SS card, filled out my W-4, fished around in her desk for and found a set of house and room keys for me. While Jason's cum went first cold, then stickier, then crusty against my re-buttoned button-down. Ugh. The wipes had gotten the biggest globs of it off, but that film that always follows a load was forming fast. "Here are your room keys," she said, standing and opening the office door. "You'll have a roommate-don't frown, It's really more of a suite. Session rooms are separate, anyway," she strode out of the room at a speed that was hard to maintain with dignity. Mme Anne must've been a ballerina or something, to speed-walk like that in those heels. I struggled to keep up and hold my shirt away from my sticky chest. "Carmilla is our only other girl right now, so there will be quite a lot of work. But she can help you." The halls were , in my opinion, unnaturally clean for a place that supposedly housed so many boys. What I assume was marble with occasional goldenrod, green and maroon mosaic designs floors shined with the glow of ceiling-set art-deco light fixtures; willowy, leafy palms in little gold pots lined the long hallway. We turned a corner where the marble stopped, replaced by a thick Persian rug. Mme Anne stopped and slipped of her heels in a motion that was sensuous, fluid, standing first on the balls of one stockinged foot so that if flexed her calf into a tantalizing curve. I wobbled on one foot, pulling off one of my white flats, catching a minty whiff of the white toothpaste I'd used to cover some of the deeper scuffs. I slipped, caught myself, and just kicked the other shoe off. Mme Anne glared at me, cocking her hip to one side, her tall heels held in one hand. "Anyway," she continued, turning from me and padding down the carpeted hallway. "We'll take care of all your affairs, your apartment and such. Any personal effects you need, you may retrieve in a few days. You need to concentrate on your work." "Um, you said something about training?" I ventured. She nodded. "Yes, it is really more similar to an internship, which, I am sure you are familiar with, at your age and with those shoes." She turned and gave a small smile over her shoulder. "If you don't mind, under normal circumstances, I'd offer to have your clothes dry-cleaned, but..." "Might be better to just burn it down and rebuild?" "You're very colorful," she said, unlocking a door. "I know a few boys already who are going to like you a great deal, even without training. But for now, clean yourself up. A thin white girl with long red hair lay on a divan, her bare back to us. She rolled over and smiled seductively, before her eyes went round with alarm-a subtle change that I recognized, though Mme Anne did not appear to.Holy. Shit. Sam, my roommate, Carmilla naked except for a pair of pink panties. My pink panties... I thought . "Oh, good," the Madame said. "Carmilla is up. Carmilla, darling, help clean up our new charge before her first session. Jared was very pleased to hear we'd be receiving a new girl, you know." Sam stood and flashed a new smile, one I recognized as her ''seriously, shut up, I've got this' look. "Of course, Madame," She said, leading me off by the arm. "Is she my partner for the session at 8?" "The very same," Mme Anne said. "Brief her on the details." The Madam closed the door. "I thought you were WWOOFing!" I demanded, annoyed, before Sam slapped a hand over my mouth and motioned for me to be quiet. We stood like this for what felt like a long time, until I heard the faint click of Mme Anne's heels on the marble down the hallway. "She can't know we know each other," Sam whispered. "We have a session in about an hour, let's get you cleaned up and explain everything." I nodded. "And those are my panties!" Sam just laughed and hugged me. "God, I'm glad to see you," she pulled away "Even if you do smell like yuppie sperm." "Why are you even here?" I asked, "I thought you were in Oregon, or Portugal or something." I followed her into a bathroom the size of my apartment, outfitted with marble flooring and a big bathtub. She started the water, feeling it for temperature. "I was," Sam said, "I got body lice a couple of hours out of Portland at a place I'm pretty sure is making the transition from commune to cult and quit. Long story short, farming sucks and I'm broke. I came back to the city, hoping you'd still be here, but then I read this ad..." I started unbuttoned my shirt, stepped out of my skirt. "Oh, Aly, that bra is so sad, give it here!" Sam said, tugging my duct-tape reinforced bra off and tossing it into the wastebasket. My breasts bounced with the force of her her pull, my nipples going hard in the chilly air. They looked so different, somehow, in this lighting-my apartment was dark, like all cheap apartments-with millionaire spunk dried to them. "Anyway, read the ad, came here, been making mad money, and that's where we are now." She sat on the closed toilet as I stepped into the tub. "Here," she said, passing me a small jar of some kind of exfoliant. "Thanks," I said, slipping into the warm water all the way up to my chin, "Carmilla." She laughed. "I know, it's lame! But we have to have fake names. Safer for everybody." "So, lesbian vampire was the first place you went?" "No, Fanny Hill was the first place I went, and Madam thought it was ugly. So Carmilla. I thought it was funny, kinda-lesbian vampire, living as a sex worker for rich dudes." "It's something," I said, scrubbing at my tits with the gunk Sam had given me. "What's yours?" she asked. "I dunno." "You better," Sam chided. "We have an appointment later, I'll need to call you something. Jesus, you're so slow!" She grabbed the exfoliant, rubbed it between her hands and seized my breasts with a light touch. She rubbed her long fingers in tiny circles, and I felt all the cum just scrub right off. Beneath the sensation of being finally clean again, another emotion, not but so unfamiliar, stirred. "That's amazing," I sighed. "I know," Sam smiled. "Laura," she said, squeezing one of my nipples and laughing. "You look like a Laura." *** "Don't look so nervous!" Sam demanded. "Just remember to call me Carmilla, act like you're super into everything, and close your eyes when he comes. He really gets off on getting it in your eye, and we are NOT paid well enough for that." I tugged on my stockings. I'd never worn stockings with garters before, and it felt strange. Sam had dressed me, lacing up the purple silk and black boning corset that cut off my air and pushed my tits up. She'd personally cupped my breasts and pushed them upward before she laced it all in place. Always better dressed than me, Sam only needed me to tie her off. Her outfit was mine in duplicate, but with green silk, instead of purple. We both wore black panties with little slits down the middle that tickled my labia. "I'm not nervous," I lied, "I've just never had...girl sex." Sam laughed, "We won't tonight, either. Real girl sex is boring as hell to watch. He wants IRL porno bullshit. Just follow my lead," she said, fluffing my long hair out and trailing it over my breasts. "The whole inexperienced thing will probably work, anyway." There was a polite knock at the door. "Come in," Sam called. A young white guy with frizzy blonde hair walked in. He wore a striped button-down , dark, expensive-looking jeans. Sam stepped over and hugged him, kissing him on each cheek. He smiled wolfishly at me. I smiled back, suddenly shy. "I heard there was a new girl," he said. "She like you?" "Mm, that's something you'll have to see for yourself," Same purred, pushing herself against him. Sam was a consummate actress-I'd never seen her pay for a drink once when we went out together. "That I will," he said, stepping past her. "What's your name?" he asked, and without ceremony, reached out and grabbed my pussy through my thin, slitted panties. "Laura," I gasped. I had expected them to be shyer, like the boy from Madame's office... Sam pulled him away from me. "Jared, you'll make me jealous." she said, kissing his cheek again. "Why don't I show you how much she likes me?" She asked. Jared smiled. "Sure. Fuck her." He sat in a chair and leaned back, rubbing himself through his jeans. Sam took me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. She kissed me near my earlobe. "Just follow. Male gaze, baby," she whispered, before kissing me on the mouth. This, of course, wasn't the first time we'd kissed-there really was no easier way to get drinks paid for at ladies' night-but this time was different. Her lips were so soft, her tongue searching for mine. This felt like a real kiss, not like when we'd taken each other's faces in hand so that we'd shield spectators from the lack of passion in our embrace. So I kissed her back. I nibbled her lip, just a little , and felt her hands slide down my body. When I opened my eyes, dreamy and dazed, I was snapped back to reality by the image of Jared, leaning back in his chair, hard cock now in his fist. "Yeah," he whispered, raggedly, "She likes it. Kiss her. Bite her. Fuck her." Sam suppressed a laugh and pushed me down on the bed. "Yeah, you like that , don't you?" she asked. Oh. Ok. "Yeah, I like it, I'm such a little lezzie slut," I gasped. "Oh, you are!" she said, pushing me back, straddling me, kissing my neck until she reached my ear "too much! Porno, but not too porno!", she whispered. I heard Jared groan behind us. I could actually hear him jerking his cock now, whispering oh yeah, under his breath. Sam moved her hands down my body-it felt almost like they were on someone else, over the stiff corset. She kissed, and I squirmed, giggled, but couldn't feel anything through the fabric. Finally, she arrived at my tiny underwear. Yeah, do it I heard Jared whisper. I tensed in anticipation, glistening with arousal. Sam cocked her head up and gave a quizzical look that only I could see. "Aw, she's nervous," Sam said, spreading my legs wide, so that Jared could see my labia peeking from the little slit in my underwear. "Why don't I calm her down?" Sam leaned in, and I saw her begin to kiss me there. I drew a gasp of excitement, lust, even... and she sucked the area just north of my clit messily, with a slurping sound not unlike the noises she made at our favorite Pho spot back in our old neighborhood. Oh. Right. "Oh, that's so good!" I cried, and arched my back. Sam stretched her tongue, lizard-like, and flicked at my pussy lips. I squirmed with ticklishness, pushing away from her as she pulled my panties off. "Yeah, do me," she gasped, spreading her legs wide. Her tits popped out of the top of her corset, and I was torn-she looked ridiculous, but still... I dove across the bed and buried my face in her cunt, licking wildly. "Oh, yeah, that's how I like it!" she hid a giggle in her moan and finally squirmed away from my mouth. I sat up and she grabbed me by the shoulders, pulled me close and kissed me full on the mouth. Theatrical at first, shoving her tongue in so that Jared would see- then softer, warmer. I relaxed in her arms, stroked her back, returning the kiss. She laughed gently against my lips. "Ride her," Jared demanded. Sam pulled away first. I nodded and lay down while she straddled me, pushing our cunts together. "Oh, yeah, baby, right there!" she moaned, and pinched me in the side. "right in the cunt, yeah, there, that's how I like it!" I screamed. Sam bit my shoulder to keep from laughing. "Oh, yeah, I'm cumming, I'm cumming," I screamed. "Oh, god, get ready for it!" shouted Jared. Sam pulled herself to her knees, and nodded for me to follow. Jared, fully clothed Jared, hurried to the bed where we knelt. Sam's opened her mouth wide, pulling me close to her. Ugh. I opened my mouth too, licking my lips. Jared shuddered, thick spurts of come spraying our faces. He sighed as Sam sucked the length of him, motioning for me to take his balls. I gently lifted one out of his jeans and sucked, noisily, while he breathed heavy, laughing with satisfaction. I sucked back up the length of his cock, kissing Sam over the head of Jared's cock, letting his come dribble between us. Sam gave Jared's cock tip one final kiss and looked up at him, batting her eyelashes. "That was amazing," she said, stroking me. "But our session is up, sweet thing. Same time next week?" Jared zipped up and nodded. "Great, thanks," he said. "Good to meet you, too, sugar tits," he pointed at me. *** "See, it's not so bad," Sam said, tossing me her exfoliant. We sat at opposite sides of the big tub in the bathroom, hot water up to our shoulders. "Yeah," I answered, rubbing my face hard. "But do you ever get get the come off you?" Sam laughed. "Not really. You won't mind so much when your first paycheck comes in." She took her hair down, letting it fall around her, floating over her breasts. "Um, Sam..." I started. "Yeah, I know, sometimes it gets weird out there," she said. "Jared's softball, though." "That's not what I meant," I said. "I know. Even the fake stuff can get me het up sometimes. But like I told you," Sam raised up in the tub, pulling herself on top of me. "Real lesbian sex is boring as hell to watch," She kissed me, soft, and slipped a finger inside me. "A lot more fun to do than to watch, though." "Sam, you don't think this'll make our friendship weird?" "Aly, that ship has sailed. And you've already got a hand on my tits," So it had, and so I did. "Let's keep things between Carmilla and Laura, shall we? All this energy, it's an occupational hazard," I said, allowing my hand to slide down her back. "Sounds good," she said, surging forward to bite my neck dramatically. We collapsed into laughter, as she slipped another finger into me. There are worse ways to make a living.