5 comments/ 34069 views/ 2 favorites Submission for Payment By: michie Author's note: -This is an erotic story where sex is exchanged for money. The story's main focus is the ultimate submission through corruption. It is not meant to condemn nor endorse the character's actions in the story -This story is my first work of fiction that I am submitting to Literotica. It was much longer but I cut out some detail to make it easier to read. As work of fiction it is just a fantasy that I had and is not meant to be taken seriously. -If you have any moral objections to the subject matter or if you just don't find it erotic you would probably be better off reading something else. ********************************* "You know that this account is in R3? That's over 90 days without a payment. Why is it that you feel like you don't have to pay your bills?" The rude and pushy woman almost barked into the phone asking questions so quickly that no explanation was possible. "I d-don't know, it's not that, it's t-that I-I mean to pay, I will get t-the money soon, I don't know what I can s-say." Cynthia stumbled and fumbled with her words, truly at a loss of what to say. "I can say that your credit is going to be completely useless, I can tell you that I'm putting another mark against your name. This is going to follow you forever!" There was a certain amount of satisfaction in the credit agent's voice. It was almost as if she was hoping that payment would go unremitted just so she could lay her weight into the poor girl on the other end. Like a shark smelling blood she sensed the fear in the girl on the phone and she went in for the kill. This was the part of her job she enjoyed most, yes, she actually enjoyed it. Somewhere along the way the world had treated her poorly and she wanted revenge; doling it out was her specialty. Her words struck deep to the pit of Cynthia's stomach and made it hard for the girl to breath. Cynthia had her entire life ahead of her, in many ways it had not even started yet. She was in her second year of university and just 20 years old. Now she was being told that whatever her life was it wasn't going to be nice. The agent's rant made it clear that Cynthia would never be able to buy anything that she wanted because nobody would ever trust her. The marks against her name were getting more numerous than she liked to think about. This wasn't the first credit agent to call her small apartment, just the meanest. They all carried a certain level of intimidation but this one was just flat out scary. At twenty years old, Cynthia didn't know how to deal with all this, she didn't know her options, the crisis just made her scared. She was scared to answer the phone in her own apartment; she hated hearing the voices on the other end. The sad truth was that she knew she wouldn't even have a phone if it wasn't for her roommate. The telephone was in her roommates name but the collectors still found her. For all the money she spent Cynthia didn't even have anything to show for it. The reality of the situation is that she spent the money because she was irresponsible and naive. When she lived at home she never had to budget for anything, her parents took care of the bills, gave her a place to live and even gave her spending cash when she needed. All she was expected to do was save up for school but it's not like even that was 100% on her shoulders. Her parents paid her entire tuition and gave her a small allowance. Even Cynthia was having a hard time remembering how things got so far gone. The entire house of cards was built on credit cards; the companies were basically giving them away everywhere she went. New found freedom and a large credit limit can be a dangerous thing and spending money without a budget is a stupid thing. The bills would have been piling up if Cynthia bothered to keep them, but she couldn't bear to look at them so in the garbage they went. First notices, second notices............final notices. Except for panic attacks when the phone rang or the mail arrived she mostly just tried to push the harsh reality out of her head and so the implications just got worse. Maybe if she faced it head on she could have consolidated her debts into a line of credit or find another solution; her was to just ignore it though. Cynthia, despite her debts, was still alive to have fun, her warm personality and her down to earth good looks brought her many friends. Her naturally brassy blonde hair was swept across her forehead and often held in place with a black hair band. This was the signature of her look, anyone who met her thought she had all the cuteness of the girl next door with enough mystery in her eyes to never give the impression of being boring. She always looked up to people, not in the figurative sense but in the literal one, she was only 5'2 and weighed 100 lbs. RING, RING, RING The phone rang again and Cynthia froze in fear as a newly natural reaction. Her last interaction with the phone minutes early had left her trembling. Her roommate wasn't there to filter the call so she decided to let the answering machine do her dirty work. "Hey Cynth, you comin out tonight?" it was her friend, Kim's voice through the machine. Relieved and excited Cynthia picked up the phone cutting the message short. "No, no I'm here! I mean where are we going? I mean, yeah of course I'm coming out!" Money issues or no money issues Cynthia wasn't going to let them ruin her good time. Getting used to her new found poverty was a bit of an adjustment but one that she was making as outwardly smooth as one could make it. Being completely broke pretty much ruled out the possibility of having a boyfriend because she couldn't be in a relationship where he paid for everything; the ground would be too uneven. This however did not mean she couldn't go out with the girls. Going out with the girls didn't require as much money as maybe someone would think. As long as she had enough lying around to cover her part of the cab fare the rest was easy. If the bar had a cover a few well timed bats of her eyelashes was usually enough to side step that. Once in the bar she found that guys would buy her a drink if she was standing around without one. Cynthia felt this was pretty harmless and she never let a boy buy her more than one drink. The reasoning was pretty simple; one drink is just safe flirting, more could be hustling. She would take her time and drink her drink and exchange flirts but she wasn't the type to be picked up at a bar so after the first she would politely refuse the second. In her mind taking the second drink would be leading someone on and she wasn't out to be rude or hurt feelings. Economics like this flashed through her head but not really in a tangible way, Cynthia didn't consciously consider the implications of this transaction. Those calculations happened on a much more intuitive, subconscious level. She didn't think: One drink is worth a flirt, two is worth a dance, three is worth a kiss, four is worth a feel and five is worth a fuck. Still, the subconscious is a powerful thing and somewhere in her mind she was aware of it. She was aware when she put on her little dress that was sure to make her freeze in the icy cold January weather of Southern Ontario, she was aware of it when she flashed a smile across the bar; she just never consciously did the math. Tonight it was just Cynth and Kim, the other girls had opted for the warmth and comfort of their duvet covers. The weather was particularly cold even for January but the girls were undeterred. Cynthia walked to Kim's house, it wasn't far away, but she would have liked to have taken a cab; being broke didn't prevent her from going out but it sure ruined the comfort of it. It wasn't just the weather but also the inevitable whistles from boys in passing cars at a girl in a dress walking by herself. Both she and Kim lived in a student ghetto of sorts, so she didn't fear for her safety just that a taxi would have provided a shield from the obnoxiousness. The same obnoxious boys were sure to be at the bar so it's not like she could avoid them all night. Kim was really the centre of attention at social gatherings. Kim had bleached platinum blonde hair and wasted no expense in order to look a little trashy. Cynthia never understood why she attracted so many boys, yet the same qualities attracted Cynthia to Kim. Kim was always in her own world and more or less treated Cynthia as a sidekick but there was something magnetic about her personality that made her behavior acceptable. She seemed to take everything for granted and was never in need of anything, and because of this people were always trying to provide her with things. Kim possessed many of the things that Cynthia wished she had and being close to her was a way to vicariously realize them. Kim stood 5'8" and had a body that boys drool over and girls are jealous of. She had breasts that she liked to show off even if that required all sorts of push up material and tape. In heels she eliminated most boys from potential mates based on her policy of not dating shorter guys; even if it was just shoe height. The other thing that Kim had that Cynthia didn't like to admit she was jealous of was rich parents. Kim always had money and if she spent it all her bank account would be topped off again by daddy dearest. Cynthia didn't like to admit this, because she loved her parents and all that they did for her, they didn't have lots of money but they extended themselves to make sure she got an education. Her parents' sacrifices were greater than Kim's parents' so she felt very ungrateful for even having these thoughts. Their differences didn't end there. Cynthia preferred the low key day to day of a single roommate but Kim lived in what could only be described as a party house. The house was rented by five girls and each brought a piece of their personality to the setting. This would have been cause for a decorator's nightmare, but it didn't scare off the visitors. Even on a night in for most of the tenants, various characters could be seen hanging around. Including a few familiar boys who, while dating nobody there, were nevertheless regulars at the house. Kim was still getting changed when Cynthia arrived. Cynthia was greeted with loud hellos from the inhabitants as was the custom of their age group. Everyone was always so happy to see each other at night and made of point of showing it with loud voices and big smiles; the same people during the day would elicit a much more low key response. Considering that this was night, Cynth, as she's known in this circle, was feeling ready to accept their enthusiasm and reflect it back in her own subdued way. She didn't want to get too comfortable, so she waited in the front hallway, which was connected to the living room and rambled sort of meaninglessly about the events of the their collective present. "You look love-ly darrrling." Kim announced as she entered the living room her intonation demanding the attention of the crowd. Her compliment was directed at Cynthia but it could have just as well been about herself, as if to say you look good enough to be my sidekick. It's not that Kim was the most exotic beauty, her face was in many ways unusual and the use of liberal make-up made it hard to distinguish as her own, but this face also projected an air of superiority that so many find irresistible. It was as if Kim never second guessed herself and therefore never made a mistake. "Where are we going?" Cynthia asked like a trusty sidekick. Kim, already controlling the room, answered her friend in a voice the indicated that she was bored with their destination. "The Limelight; if nothing else they know me there. Did you call a cab?" Kim was one of those people who had money and expects everything to be done for them. "No, I haven't taken my shoes off yet so I didn't have the chance, I can do it now." Cynthia felt for a split second like she was almost making excuses to a credit agent as she trailed off. "Don't bother, I'll do it, but now we're going to have to wait." Said the platinum blonde princess making it known that this was not really her role. Cynthia had made sure that she brought enough money to split a cab on the way there and enough to get one back by herself if the need arose. Some of the money even jingled as she walked, it was the change she planned to use on the cab. Paper money seemed better served for other things, like maybe eating the next day, so that went into one of the many less noticeable pockets of her purse. This made her nervous; she didn't want to be seen as poor in front of her friend, she just didn't want to be judged by Kim in that way. Kim, who was beyond the reproach judgment herself, was never shy about speaking her mind about someone else. The cab arrived and the girls made their way through the snow, their high hells leaving holes along the way. Kim was dressed to kill and would no doubt bring enough attention for the both of them. While Kim used hard make-up to look sheik Cynthia went for the much more natural and less expensive look. Her hair swept across her forehead almost coving her right eye and was held in place by her familiar black hair band. The hair band made her feel safe almost as if it blocked people from seeing her thoughts. Once inside the music blasted and conversation became distinguishable mostly by the amount of head nods. Cynthia really couldn't understand anything anyone was saying and never could; this usually resulted in her wondering why she did this almost every weekend. Maybe it was her height, maybe it was her ears but she never understood an entire sentence anyone spoke. Most of the attention went Kim's way anyways, her presence made her feel like she was at the centre of the bar even if she wasn't centre stage. Kim really liked Cynthia and despite her sometimes bossy and selfish ways did consider her one of her dearest friends. Kim came to the bars to hang out with her girlfriends, so Cynthia never really got lost in the shuffle. To Kim the boys served more as decorations and points of conversation. Kim seemed to say everything she wanted in a conversation, perhaps this was because she never cared what the other person was actually saying, and maybe it was her height. As the night wore on the girls drank and danced. Sometimes they danced with each other and sometimes with a boy who had bought them drinks, rarely taking note of even the suitor's name. The night was carefree and served as an escape for Cynthia's problems. It was 1 in the morning and her black hair band was making its way from its normal place at the middle of her head to the back. It was while she was adjusting it and trying to accomplish the impossible task of keeping here sweep of hair in place that a boy caught her off guard. "I've seen you here before, but I've never said hello, I'm Gave." The handsome young man said while looking down at a messy haired Cynthia. For some reason she was able to hear every word he said but she thought she was mistaken about the name. "Gave? With a G?" She shouted back. "Well it's Gavin, but my friends call me Gave, and that's Gave not Gav." She was right, she had heard every syllable he said. It was almost as if she could read his lips and this trend continued as he engaged her in conversation. This was perhaps the first conversation she had ever had at a bar. The way he was looking at her made her feel like she was the only person in the entire room and he was talking only to her, he paid Kim no attention. Soon enough he was buying her a drink. Cynthia took her time drinking this one; she was totally absorbed in the conversation. She finished her drink and he offered to buy another but throwing fiduciary caution to the wind Cynthia insisted on buying the next round. She really liked this guy and didn't want to be on lower ground or owe him anything. Whatever transaction that was to take place it wasn't going to involve money. Before she knew it she had blown through all of her paper money and was getting dangerously close to walking home. This reality made the next suggestion all the more acceptable. "Do you want to get out of here? It's going to close soon." Gave said in the smoothest voice he could muster hoping to close the deal. "Ok, do-ya want to take me to my place?" An excited and partially drunk Cynthia suggested. At the coat check she explained to Kim what she was going to do. This wasn't really in Cynthia's character but Kim approved of her choice so she didn't fight her too hard. Gave was very good looking, his boyish good looks seemed to clash with his manly body giving him a non-threatening charm. He dressed with a backwards red hat but didn't look like a white rapper, more like a laid back yuppie too relaxed too turn it forward. His clothes hung loose but from the definition at the top of his t-shirt he no doubt took care of himself. Cynthia liked mostly how his straight hair had small curls that escaped his ball cap. In the cab was the first time she actually heard his voice in full expression but her earlier impressions were not disproven. His confidence was unquestionable; he was secure in who he was and what he was doing. Most of all he gave Cynthia the feeling that even though he could have had his pick of any girl he chose her. He never even broke eye contact to look at Kim, he never felt the need to make Kim included, he was just focused on her and that was a curiosity she enjoyed. They had to be quiet once inside, Cynthia didn't want her roommate to be disturbed either by the noise or more importantly by the fact she had brought home a strange man. While the intention was good the execution perhaps left a little to be desired; it's hard to shake snow off your shoes and be super quiet all at the same time even without an elevated blood alcohol level. After a little bit of shushing the seemingly natural pair made it down the narrow hallway into the small living room. Gave made himself at home as if he had been coming there for years, he exhaled noisily as he sat back on the sofa. His vanity required no affirmation; he knew he had Cynthia around his finger. He motioned for her to come to the sofa and no words were required to tell her what to do. Any fear Cynthia may have had was calmed by alcohol and the young man's at ease demeanor. Soon Cynthia was giving him a slow and relaxing blow job on the sofa. She slowly and carefully moved her tongue down the shaft of his cock doing little circles with her tongue preparing to put it in her mouth. He had one hand on the back of her head and the other on her forehead slowly guiding her and controlling the pace. Once she was satisfied that she teased him enough with her tongue she carefully put the head in her mouth and tried hard not to let her teeth touch the skin. Cynthia had been a little clumsy from time to time with her last boyfriend and he was trying hard to impress Gave. He had a nice looking penis in its straight and symmetrical quality. He was likely average in size, although Cynthia wasn't really sure what average even was, but hard as a rock. It responded to her every loving touch and stood to attention for her pretty face. Her head was now bobbing up and down in rhythm only breaking to look around the room to make sure her roommate wasn't interrupting. "Look at me." He muttered in a low groan. Cynthia always kept her eyes closed when giving head and tried to ignore the request. It made her feel funny to look up at a boy when giving head because she felt inferior, as if she was a slave to their pleasure. "Look at me." The request was echoed in with greater urgency. Instead Cynthia popped his penis out of her mouth and said "Let's go to my bedroom." The power struggle ended there as the pair of strangers entered Cynthia's most personal space: her bedroom. Once inside Gave started to undress her without any delay. He sensed that he didn't want to give her a chance to second guess or throw up a stop sign. Quickly her dress was over her head and after a bit of fumbling was on the ground. Cynthia hadn't had a boyfriend for a while and by this time she was literally creaming in her panties almost embarrassed by the honestly of her excitement. He laid her on her bed and looked her up and down like a trophy just about to be claimed. His clothes came off in seconds and his dick pointed straight out and strained with excitement. Submission for Payment The time for foreplay had passed and Cynthia wanted to fuck, she rolled over and started going through her nightstand for a condom. Buried in the bottom were two condoms of different brands, one was in a purple mini tube and the other in a standard package. Gave didn't need a sixth sense to know what she wanted; he took the purple one from her hand. He struggled to get it out of the package as the anticipation teased Cynthia into fits. "Hurrr...rrieee!" Cynthia pouted in her sexiest pout. She removed her own panties and sat with her head on the pillow. Finally the condom squeezed out of the package on to the bed, he picked it up and started to roll it over his penis. This was one of the sexiest moments of fucking for Cynthia, she didn't know why but the finality of watching a new lover roll on a condom and knowing that it meant he intended to fuck her made euphoria burn through her body. He pulled her legs toward him bringing the pillow up the back of her head and forcing her hair band forward so it was almost on her forehead. After a bit of movement he positioned himself between her legs and brushed the hair that had fallen over her eyes back. He kissed Cynthia tenderly and deeply as the pair laid naked on her bed with him positioned right at her entrance; it was their first kiss. The kiss continued and morphed into a sloppy exchange of tongue and saliva at the same time his penis was poking around looking for an entrance to satisfy its strain. Cynthia was in a state of bliss and joy; he was doing her just like she wanted to be done. The intensity of the kissing along with the slow teasing of her sex was almost too much to bear and little passionate moans escaped her lips between kisses. While they kissed, Gave began to enter her and he exhaled in satisfaction to show his approval of her intimacy. Once he was completely in, Cynthia wrapped her legs around his mid section and her arms around his body. Their closeness gave her the feeling of protection like this man that she had met mere hours ago loved her. Cynthia's legs locked around him and she pulled him in as far as she could. The two bodies became one as he held this position and looked deeply and tenderly at his new lover for what seemed like an eternity trapped in a moment. The tension and the closeness of their intimate embrace was overflowing in Gave as he felt like he wanted to make love to Cynthia more than he had ever wanted to fuck anyone. His hips started the motion and they picked Cynthia's body up off the bed and drove it back down and then again and then again. She released the grip of her legs and Gave started moving more freely. His thrusts were irregular and urgent. They would come in the form of hard pushes each one attempting to get even deeper into Cynthia's welcoming pussy. The tempo kept increasing until he was fucking her very hard. Cynthia's passion escaped in the form of squeals and moans; Gave grunted lustily as he showed his affection. Cynthia was looking more ragged after each thrust, her black hair band was now pushed up over her face taking her hair with it, her legs pinned to her shoulders and Gave's head buried between her leg and neck. The pair didn't speak a word as the bed shook, it was a feeling that demanded no explanation, which they both felt. What started as a hook up was now conjuring up feelings of love and compassion for Gave, what seemed to start as a dream was now doing the same to Cynthia. Neither orgasm sparked the other; they both came unannounced at the same time. Cynthia's body was shaking when a weakened Gave collapsed on top of her; she accepted his weight and held him close to her chest. It went without saying that he would not be leaving and he fell asleep with his head warmly placed on her breast. Morning came and the feelings still remained, they slept in on the Saturday morning exchanging more kisses than words. Everything felt right, like something magical had happened. When it finally came time to get up it turned out that Cynthia's roommate had made a rumor of herself by leaving before any awkward introductions could take place. Cynthia was embarrassed that all she had to offer for breakfast was the 100% fibre cereal and her roommate's milk, instead of making such a gesture she suggested that they go out. She went to her dresser and took the rest of the money that she had, money that was suppose to last a month and left the apartment with her new lover. This really was all the money that she had, her parents sent her an allowance every month and by this time budgeting it was key to her survival. Emotions and new beginnings in young people can often put survival far down on the list of importance, this time it was bumped down by not wanting to look poor in front of Gave. If she asked him to pay for everything his opinion of her would surely fall, maybe he would even think that he had made a mistake. Cynthia inwardly stressed about these relationship economics but outwardly she was carefree. The day ended with more lovemaking. Cynthia found herself falling head over heels. When it came time to part it was done with the most sincere of regrets, she almost felt like they had known each other forever. The moment he was out of sight a different feeling overcame Cynthia, this feeling was fear. She had spent all of the money she had; she wasn't just broke anymore, now she was dead broke. She was all at once reminded of the truth she had convinced herself before she became poor that boyfriends weren't for poor girls. How could she have another day like the one she just spent? In her mind he would begin to see her as a burden if she got him to pay or worse he would see her as his property. He would think that she owed him everything and that he was above her. Lovemaking would become a duty rather than a desire. Cynthia shuddered at these thoughts and worked to push them out of her head. For the next two days she waited on pins and needles for his call; on Tuesday evening it finally came. Talking to Gave was a wonderful stress relief, not only did they have physical chemistry but this extended to the mind. They talked for an hour before making a date for Friday night. The phone call put some air in her step and a tingling feeling in her pussy that extended to her stomach. She hadn't even thought about the money aspect of Friday night when the phone rang again, she hadn't really thought about anything or she wouldn't have picked it up. "Cynthia T Rosen?" Came through the receiver emanating from the nasal drawl of a middle aged woman. "Yes?" Cynthia answered stupidly and hesitantly. Almost before the affirmative answer left her lips she had her hand on the top of her head pushing down on her hair band in frustration. "This is Sophie Rankenbult (pronounced with a blood) from the CHS Collection and Credit agency" The uninterested cold drawl continued. "Miss Rosen, you said that you would close this account on the 5th, seeing that that is more than 2 weeks ago and we haven't been able to reach you I'm forced to believe that further action against your record is required. If you make payment by the end of business Friday I can hold off on this action, will payment be forthcoming?" Cynthia could feel the sweat on the receiver, she wanted to just hang up and hope that somehow all this would go away. She didn't want to make any false promises she had no way of getting the money. "I don't have the money, I'm a stude......." "Well if you feel that you don't have to pay your debt you're digging yourself a nice little grave for the future, missy." The credit agent was now turning the screws on Cynthia. It was her job to get the money by almost any means necessary and the threat of having no future seemed to be the best weapon to use on students. Mrs. Rankenbult clearly knew which screws to tighten. Through the silence from the other end of the line Sophie continued, "You see, missy. I have heard it all, I'm impressed by none of it and nobody is ever going to be impressed by your little tricks." Cynthia was sobbing noticeably now as she struggled to catch her breath, Rankenbult was undeterred. "Crying isn't going to save you either. You made adult decisions and this is an adult world so make the payment or take the consequences; I don't care what you have to do." "Yes, ma'am." Cynthia whimpered in an attempt to rid her from the indignity of this conversation. "You say, "yes ma'am I'll pay you.' That's what I want to hear and then when I look at my accounts it will say that Cynthia Rosen pays her bills and might be worthy of a loan someday. Until that time keep your yes ma'am's to yourself!" "Yes, ma'am. I mean I'm sorry. I mean I don't know what to say, I'm really scared" "Well you should be scared and maybe you should get a job and pay your debts! This account is going into the red I'm not giving you until Friday because I don't think you're worth it. Am I wrong?" "No, do what you have to do." Cynthia hung up the receiver and was now bawling her eyes out openly in a fit of frustration. Cynthia was mad at the credit agent for the way the woman talked to her, she was mad at the situation she was in and most of all she was mad at herself. She was the one that brought this on, it was her foolish decisions. She wanted to burn all of her clothes or splash them with paint, something to show that she was sorry so they didn't remind her of all her frivolous spending. Cynthia had tried working before but had difficulty holding a job and going to school at the same time. The other thing was that the job she did get just didn't pay her enough money. She worked at the juice bar outside of the gym for a while but the minimum wage just wasn't worth the stress or the time away from her studies. Getting one of those jobs seemed like all that was available to her and that just wasn't going to be a solution. She moved her hair band from the middle to further forward on her head so her hair covered more of her face picked up the phone and called her parents. This was the only place she had to turn, she had nothing to even come and go on, if she could only get her credit cards paid off then maybe she could get another one and possibly her chances with Gave wouldn't be destroyed. She had three credit cards that were past due, two had $5,000 dollar limits and the other was $1,500. Each seemed to have a team of creditors knocking at her door, with interest her total bill was over $12,000 and rising. Her mom answered the phone but Cynthia thought better than to ask her. "Can I talk to Dad?" "What is it honey?" Her mother asked with a both concerned and nosey intonation in her voice. She could tell something was wrong. "I just need to talk to Daddy." She repeated using the more childish form of the title. "What is it Sweetheart?" Her father's voice boomed through the line having picked up a phone in another part of the house while her mother was still on the line. Cynthia was nervous but decided to jump in anyways. "I'm out of money, I don't want to bother you but I don't know what to do, I need a lot and I just don't know what to do, if you do I can pay you back and you can write it all down and I just need a little help." Cynthia rambled subconsciously putting on her best little girl voice she could find. Her father took a stern voice "What happened to the money we sent you two weeks ago sweetheart?" Her mother jumped in his less sugar coating "Cynthia, we can't be sending you money in the middle of the month you get an allowance and that is what you need to live on, just what do you think we are?" "I don't know, I mean it's not that I think anything, I just don't......." Her father sensing that his "sweetheart" was being ganged up on naturally rose to her defense. "Ok, well just this time we will send you $500.00 and that should hold you for a little while." "Thank-you daddy, I promise that I will pay you back." "Why are you giving in to her? How is that going to help?" Her parents began to bicker as she excused herself from the situation. This wasn't nearly what she was looking for, this wouldn't even pay off the smallest of her cards but she didn't feel in position to ask for more. She got $500.00 but the experience of asking for it made her feel awful, she knew that she couldn't ask for anything more. When the $500 came through her email it made her feel so low to accept it like she was stealing from her parents. This $500 came with a great deal of shame attached; Cynthia was already beginning to hate money. Cynthia also knew that there was a good chance that her allowance wasn't coming on the 1st of the month either. It was with great pain that she cancelled her date with Gave. She didn't give him an explanation other than repeating that it wasn't his fault. Over the next three days he tried numerous times to call her but she was now not only avoiding creditors but someone she could have loved as well. The last time he called he left a rather nasty message about her not being who he thought she was and that he would never be calling again. Cynthia was devastated and almost inconsolable. Going out was now not an option as the thought of running into Gave humiliated her beyond words. When she went to classes she wore her black hair band further forward on her head than she usually did to push her hair so it swept over her eyes. From behind her brassy blonde whispers of hair she felt protected. In this state of isolation her school work began to suffer. She had always been a bright and engaged student, as clueless as she was in the real world she had known her way around a classroom. She was studying biology with designs on going to med school and one day being a radiologist. The problem was that her dreams were being shattered under the belief that she wouldn't even be able to get a student loan with her debts. Her ability wasn't in question but her mind was shattered by the doomsayers that held her credit score. She also felt like she lost the love of her life and even if this was obviously over dramatic it was way she felt. The night she spent with Gave she felt such a connection that to have to give it up was just a further sign that creditors were right: she had no future. One afternoon as Cynthia was leaving class her professor stopped her. "Miss Rosen, I would like to have a word with you in my office." His voice was demanding, he didn't ask her if she had anywhere she had to be; he was convinced of his importance. "Yes, sir, do you mean now?" "No, I have a few things to attend to but I want you to see me at 3:00. That's in one hour's time and I will be waiting for you." Cynthia didn't know what to expect, she was surprised he even knew her name. The professor would give the lectures but all her interactions were with the Teacher Assistants (or TA's as they were known.) She didn't think that Dr. Webb did anything beyond the lecture. "Why on earth did he want to see me?" She thought to herself. She didn't have anywhere to go so she waited on an old wooden chair that was in the hallway near his office. The faculty was housed in an old almost gothic building. Everything inside it seemed made out of wood and the outside crafted of stone. It felt like being in a church or a monastery, somewhere that strange rituals were performed. Cynthia's eyes were not focused at the high gothic ceilings, but rather they were fixed on her feet. She was looking at the stains of white where the salt from outside had dried on her boots. She thought about how she hated these boots, how they made her look like a little girl. They were decorated with the outlines of flowers; they looked like they could be rain boots except they had winter lining. They kept her feet nice and warm but she couldn't help but think that she should be wearing a woman's boot, maybe something leather that went up to her knee cap. Thinking these random thoughts she stared at the white salt marks and turned them into patterns in her head; she saw ghosts made of smoke that faded into a maze with no beginning or end. "Miss Rosen, we had an appointment." The voice of Dr. Webb woke her from her trance. "The appointment is in my office not the hallway, please get yourself together." His voice wasn't angry but it conveyed the subtle message that he was not to be kept waiting. Dr. Webb motioned with his hand for her to follow him to his office, it was only ten paces or so down the hall and he closed the door behind them. He waited for Cynthia to sit down and get uncomfortable; he wanted to make sure that she wasn't in her element. Over his many years of teaching he had become very familiar with students and knew how to always have the upper hand in interactions with them. Dr. Webb was in his early 50's, his face gave the impression of a kind man but also one that didn't like to be bothered. His personality and position carried his aloofness well. The students didn't really know him but most had the feeling that they liked him and at the very least respected him. He had a quiet and slow way of delivering his words but each word was dispensed with purpose. On his face he wore what could only be described as spectacles, they had small round lenses that would often fall forward on his roundish nose. He was bald on top with graying curly hair that went around his head. His face and head fit his plump body that he concealed in sweaters; of which it seemed he wore a different one every day. His dress pants and shoes showed all the wear of someone who was not particularly concerned with his appearance. Cynthia noticed all these details as he surveyed her from his rolling chair. His fingers were pressed together to almost make a scope of a rifle from which he had Cynthia locked in. She felt like she should say something but didn't know where to begin; she was trying to think of something to say anything to break the uncomfortable situation. She had no idea why she was there and didn't want to say the wrong thing and look silly or unintelligent. Webb's spectacles were down on his nose and he looked at Cynthia over the top of them. She was fidgeting with her hair band moving it further and further forward on her head. Just as he sensed that she was about to say something he began to speak. "Young lady, what is the problem? I've noticed your performance has been less than I expected and even less than what it had been before recently." Cynthia was like a deer in headlights. "I'm sorry." Was the best she could think of. "It's not something to be sorry to me about. A student with your record and recommendations shouldn't be struggling in my second year biology class. I have lots of students every year and I always hope that I can do something for each one, I feel like I would be failing you if we didn't have this talk." His words were stern but kind, his voice never faltered as he delivered them with slow concerned tone. Cynthia for her part was at a loss for words. What did he mean by my record? My recommendations? "I'm struggling?" She managed to say as he continued to stare at her intently over his glasses and through the tips of his fingers. "Young lady, you're capable of much better. It's not my job to make sure you achieve it; in fact it's not my job to make sure you do anything. Think of this as a friendly chat, a chat I don't have with all of my students. I've seen your record; it's impressive. Are my colleagues wrong about you? Because I've yet to see it in action." "My record?" She couldn't believe that he even had access to that. "I will tell you that the year moves fast from here on out, I'm not here to help you, I have too much of my own research for that, but I am here to tell you to help yourself." Cynthia was becoming overwhelmed with emotion. Everything was going wrong and this was just one more thing. She felt like Dr. Webb really was taking an interest in her and she appreciated that but she felt powerless to reciprocate the gesture. The problem was that she didn't feel like she was in "it"; she already believed that her fate was sealed. There was something about the way the Professor was talking to her, it was like a concerned father figure. Finally she moved her hair band back exposing her entire forward to her teacher and exploded into an explanation accompanied by rolling tears. Submission for Payment "I've just had so much stress I'm completely out of money and they just keep calling me. I can't go anywhere, I can do anything, I can't concentrate......" Cynthia rolled all her words into a continuous breathe while trying to fight tears. "Slow down. Take it one thing at a time." Dr. Webb said while motioning her to take a tissue from the box on his desk. His expression never broke even for an instant. His methodical approach to interactions was a skill he forged long ago and this was not the first weeping young lady to grace his office. Many had turned on the tears like a facet in attempts to work him for a pass. Such techniques had no effect on a man like Webb. Although Cynthia's tears were of the real variety, they had no more impact on him than those of the crocodile brand. His stoic gaze from his slightly elevated chair made Cynthia feel like a little girl from her boots to her hair band. Her posture was badly impacted by her emotions, she sat with her feet out to the side but he knees together and she was slouched over trying to make herself as small as she could. Catching her breath between sobs to continued to pour her heart out. "I just have so much debt. I feel so depressed that I can barely move sometimes." Cynthia went on to details all her terrible spending habits and all the wasted money. She talked about how immature she was and how she felt cornered because of it. She was careful to remind him that she was a good person but she had made bad decisions. She told him that she didn't want to fail him or herself but that the weight was too much sometimes and every time she let someone down the weight got heavier. From her slouched position her tears were now dripping on her boots making new patterns in the salt. "So what are you going to do about it?" Cynthia was caught a bit off guard by the even keel in his voice. The entire time she had been making a fool out of herself he sat in the same pose looking over his spectacles and through the tips of his fingers. "I don't know. I just don't know. What can I do?" She pleaded for some sort of direction, maybe some way out. Maybe he would have mercy on her. Maybe he would see that she really needed a break. Maybe, just maybe, something would go right and she would be saved. "Miss Rosen, your life isn't over. Look at me; I didn't get here from sailing in calm waters. I fought for it; I did what I had to do when I had to do. It's not worth your time to think about what other people would do; it's what you have to do that you should be concerned with." Cynthia started to dry her tears to listen to what he had to say. Dr. Webb was the first person she confided her problem to; she never meant to it just came out all at once. She was horribly embarrassed but at the same it felt good to finally tell someone; almost as if some of the weight was lifted. She was now listening silently. "I want to help you Cynthia. You have a bright future and you shouldn't let his hold you back. I don't want to discuss this any further here as I have other appointments. Meet me at the Stonewater Pub at 8:00 Thursday. If you don't show up or you're late I'll assume that you don't need help." He paused for a few seconds to gauge the young lady's reaction and then continued. "That's all for now." If his words were not enough his body language made it clear that this meeting was over. He spun his chair back toward his desk making no eye contact with Cynthia as she got up to leave. She looked all around the wooden chair as if she had dropped something before picking her head up and leaving the office. Once outside she felt like she was in a different universe and she didn't want to look anyone in the face. Cynthia walked all the way home through the cold and the snow; she didn't want to take the bus because even that sort of interaction with people seemed like too much. In her mind she was cautiously optimistic she felt like something might finally go her way; like she had a friend who wanted to help her. Thursday came and she wanted to look her best, she felt by looking her best she could be on more of an even footing with the professor. She wore stockings and a conservative black skirt that went to her knees and a loose fitting green sweater that had the highest thread count in her closet. She put on the golden necklace that her parents gave her for graduating high school and her favorite pair of dangling earrings. She did her brassy blonde hair carefully and put her signature black hair band on top to hold it in place. Despite the cold and the snow she wasn't going to wear her little girl boots she instead opted for her modest low heel dress slips that she could clean later. Cynthia must have checked herself twenty times in the mirror before leaving. The pub was too far to walk, it was well off campus and well out of the student ghetto too so Cynthia had to take a cab. Luckily she still had some of the $500.00 that her parents sent her so the cab fare seemed like a small investment for the wisdom she was about to gain. There was no doubt that Dr. Webb was a smart man, Cynthia figured anyone with doctor in their title had to be smart. She really thought he would know something that she could do. Maybe he would give her a job where she could study and work at the same time. It would be easy and she would be taken care of. These sorts of fantasies started soon after her meeting and had grown in their fantastic nature since. The Stonewater Pub was a location that Cynthia had never been to. It was a little strange, it was an Irish pub but that's not the strange part, it had doors on the booths. The style was called a "snug pub" and it certainly was not for the university crowd. The worst part was that she didn't know how to know where he was. It wasn't 8:00 yet so she just stood in the entrance and refused offers to be seated. She felt awkward standing there but deflected any possible suspicion by smiling brightly. At exactly 8:00 a door to one of the booths in the row opened and Dr. Webb pushed his way out. He seemed taller than his stature in class but in this setting he looked less dignified. It was almost as if he was out of his element but too aloof to realize it himself. He motioned to Cynthia to join him by waving his arm while holding the door to the booth open. It was just now that the oddness of the meeting place hit Cynthia; she was too busy thinking of all the help Webb could provide to consider the question of why they had to meet here. Once in the booth and the door was closed Dr. Webb was right back into his element. Using some of the same techniques he used in his office Webb controlled the conversation. He wanted to know about her plans for the future, her fears and finally her obstacles. He asked how much her debt really was. There were no tears this time, instead Cynthia felt like she was trying to work through her problem and she had a sponsor. They went through her debts in detail and talked about the consequences of not paying. Some of what he was saying was scaring her as it hadn't yet offered any solutions. The solution was soon to follow. "You're a pretty girl Cynthia and I can help you with your problems and I think you're smart enough to accept." His words were strange to Cynthia; she didn't understand why he was telling her she was pretty. Before she could respond he continued, "I can give you $2,000 that's what I'm willing to do. In the event that it works out there could be a possibility for more" Cynthia wasn't sure she was hearing him right; did he really mean $2,000? "You-you would do that for me? I'm so grateful, Dr. Webb. This means the world to me I don't know how I could ever thank you." "Miss Rosen, this is the real world and thank-you's are not considered restitution. You didn't let me finish. You are going to have to enter into a contract to receive the money." "Well, what contract? I'll do it. What do I have to do?" Cynthia said, in fear of losing whatever deal she was making. Professor Webb looked over his spectacles right at Cynthia so that there could be no mistaking his words. "Sweetheart, you have to be willing to give me something that I want." "What do you want?" Cynthia still wasn't getting it. "I want you, honey." Cynthia turned as white as a ghost as she realized what he was asking her to do. Her impression of this man that she trusted changed in an instant and a sick feeling came to her stomach. He no longer looked dignified or smart; instead she could now see the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, she saw his gut that was obscenely stuffed into the small booth. "You w-w-w-ant me to sell my body?" Cynthia managed to whimper. If this had been even just a month earlier she would have slapped him across his face and stormed out. The thing was that at that point in time she hadn't slapped him and she hadn't stormed out, she did nothing of the sort, she instead asked for clarification. For that reason Webb knew that he had caught her and that she wasn't going to break free. He didn't answer her question; he just continued to stare at her with the same even stare that implied that he was running this show. "What do I have to do? Are you going to fuck me?" His gaze remained steady as he nodded his head affirmatively. "This Sunday." "I can't do that" "Are you bargaining with me? I could offer you much less and you would have to take it. What else are you going to do? Everyone has to do things they don't want to sometimes to get what they want. You want a future don't you?" Cynthia wanted a future but not one with her dignity stripped away. This doctor, this man, was subjecting her to his will. This was a man she would have never slept with or even thought about sleeping with but this was the choice she confronted with: On one hand she could say no but then she would have to deal with the consequences of such a response. It wasn't lost on Cynthia that she had no gotten herself in so deep that if she said "no" it wasn't just the creditors she had to worry about, this man also controlled her grade. She had opened herself up to him and no he was using her every weakness to obtain his own end. His soul contained no more compassion than his gaze. From the moment Cynthia showed her weakness he had decided to expose her and drag her down. That was as much his end as bedding the pretty young girl more than 30 years his junior. He had played with her like a cat with a mouse and now it was time for the kill. His cold gaze made it clear to Cynthia that no simply wasn't an option. "Where should I meet you?" She said in a voice that was frail but refused to break; she wasn't going to cry in front of her tormenter this time. He gave her the details on the way that they would meet and where it would be. They hammered out these details like any other business transaction between two people. Cynthia didn't feel comfortable being the commodity but reality was proving to be colder than the Canadian winter. When there was nothing left to say she got up to leave when Dr. Webb stopped her. "Honey, you haven't paid for your drink yet." Utterly defeated she pulled some money out of her purse and left it on the table. "Don't worry, sweetheart, everything will be ok. Make sure that you're clean for Sunday" Cynthia left the pub and started walking into the cold, completely horrified by his last base comment. The snow whipped through the air and stuck to her face. Her house was too far to walk but she was in a trance and not even sure if she was walking in the right direction. Without her boots her feet began to freeze but she continued to walk. It wasn't until a concerned police officer stopped her that she broke out of her daze. He offered her a ride home but Cynthia wasn't in the mood to take anything from anyone and would only allow him to call her a cab. When she finally made it home her feet were nearly frost bitten and pulsed in rhythmic pain. Her roommate, Tara, was concerned and helped her into the shower. Cynthia's behavior had been gradually getting more concerning, so this particular incident just seemed like another odd example. The next day Cynthia barely moved, she felt unable to do anything besides lie in bed and think. The thoughts that passed through her head went from extreme to another. First, she would convince herself that she wouldn't do it and that there was no way that she could possibly do it; then she would start to break down these absolutes. Being paid for sex is nothing new in this world; it's often referred to as the world's oldest profession. The notion that it happens generally conjures a strange dichotomy between the moral and immoral feelings that exist in most people. It's more acceptable for a man to visit a prostitute than it is for a woman to be one. For a man the reasons can range from being in search of comfort to sowing some wild oats at a bachelor party. For the woman involved, her lecherous intentions are beyond moral waffling she is never free from the act no mater the circumstances. After all, the women who sell their bodies either on the stripper pole or in the ads of an escort service aren't part of "your" world. They come from the depths of society where no better future could have ever confronted them; they aren't "your" sisters, your daughters or the women you care about. Cynthia also thought about the man that would have her. Dr. Webb certainly was not what fantasies were made of. His appearance was something she didn't want to think about but couldn't help considering. Cynthia was usually pretty picky about her choice in partners and now this fat slob would be rolling around on top of her. The two couldn't have been any less of a pair. To Cynthia sex was supposed to be spiritual, loving and fun. If she had sex with Dr. Webb it would be cold, base and distasteful. That was one extreme the other extreme was that it might not be that bad. Cynthia wasn't a virgin so it's not like she was saving herself. "So what if he fucks me?" She thought to herself. "It might only last a few minutes and then I would be free." She knew that nobody would ever know and maybe Dr. Webb was right when he said that sometimes we need to do things we don't want to when we want to get ahead. It's completely possible that everyone who has gotten ahead in the world has done things that they aren't proud of. No matter how she phrased it to herself she had the nagging feeling that no matter what reasoning she used she wouldn't be able to love herself when it was over. Full of fragmented thoughts Cynthia stood up in her bedroom and removed all of her clothes to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess from an uncomfortable sleep full of tossing and turning. Cynthia started to evaluate the girl that looked back at her while seemingly trying to avoid her eyes. She pushed her breasts up and together; trying to make them look fuller. She then trailed her hands down her belly pushing in at her hips. She posed with her hips pushed as far back as she could go and tried to admire her midsection while shifting her weight from one foot to the other. To hide her messy hair she picked up a baseball cap off the corner of her dresser and bunched her hair up inside. She paid special attention to the line of her jawbone and the soft features of her face. "All you're worth is $2,000." She quietly said to herself while exhaling in despair. When she sank back on to her bed, completely naked, she had made up her mind to go through with it. When the finality of this decision set in, Cynthia was finally able to get up and face the day. In her mind she had already become a prostitute and only the physical act was left. She no longer thought about Webb or anything else, she wished Sunday was already there so she could just get the dirty deed over with. Sunday eventually came and Cynthia was ready for it. She woke up very early and took a shower, which was the first of many she would take that day. From the morning until the evening Cynthia showered four times. His comment about being clean stuck with her and settled in her belly causing her plenty of anxiety. Deciding what to wear was not easy either. She had never done this before and didn't know how to dress. She tried on a number of outfits before settling on a black fixed box pleated skirt and one of her favorite silver blouses made of cotton and silk. The blouse was tight fitting and pushed her perky breasts together. Underneath she wore a silver pair of silk panties to match and decided to not wear stockings. Keeping with the theme of silver she wore a silver bracelet and silver earrings shaped like hearts. After it was all assembled she pulled her black hair band over her hair to keep it in place and make her feel like herself. She was supposed to meet Dr. Webb at 6:00 pm in front of the park across the street from the shopping centre. Cynthia had arrived early and didn't want to freeze in her knee length skirt, so she walked around the mall. She window shopped and looked at prices and paid special attention to the women on the posters. She thought about how much she had come to hate the materialism in the world that she was part of and how she was about to sell herself to meet the ideals in these advertisements. When she made it to the park she was still a couple minutes early and felt all of the winter's cold. It wasn't snowing or windy but the air was unforgiving to a girl without stockings. Webb was right on time, he unlocked the passenger door but he didn't get out to hold the door for his "date." Cynthia felt very strange once she got in the car, almost like this wasn't happening. Webb, for his part, was rather distant and quiet. Cynthia could tell that she was sitting in the seat usually reserved for his wife. The last flickers of guilt lasted until he pulled the car into a small motel where he had already rented a room. Things were starting to become very real and Cynthia began to get nervous still having a hard time believing that he was going to make her go through with this. When he got out of the car he still didn't open the door for Cynthia, instead he motioned with a wave of his hand for her to follow him. She didn't feel any chemistry at all. This was such an unnatural meeting that she wasn't sure how it was going to end. When they entered the room the main thing that struck her was the motel's cheapness. It smelt like smoke and the carpet even peeled at the corners. The covers reminded her of a cut-rate sofa, much worse than her warm and cushy duvet. There was a small TV in the corner a dresser against the wall and a tiny round table with an ashtray beside the TV. Webb was unconcerned with the surroundings and got down to discussing the business of the meeting. "Here's $1,000 right now and when it's time to go I will give you the other $1,000." He handed the money to Cynthia and she put it in her purse without counting it. "Why don't you sit up on the dresser, honey?" He motioned to the dresser as the two still had not made physical contact. Cynthia did as he requested and sat on the dresser with her knees together. Webb came in close and tried to part her knees but she resisted and turned away and looked down. "Honey, this is going to happen and you're going to have to get into this." He was peering at the frightened girl as she looked away. "You took the money and now it's time to make good on the bargain, now spread your legs and let me check you out." Cynthia moved her legs apart and he stood between them. His breathing had become more labored as his excitement was undeterred by her mood. He placed his hand under her skirt and moved mechanically toward her pussy. His finger was cold to the touch as he moved her panties to the side and felt his way around. Cynthia sat completely still as she felt him push his ring finger into her opening and the cold metal of his ring make contact with her labia.