Rent Paid In Full

The knock isn't loud--it's lethal. Three precise raps, cold and clinical, like a blade tapping glass. Your spine stiffens. Lila pauses mid-sip of her wine, the glass trembling in her hand. A ruby droplet slides down the rim.

"Ethan." Her voice is steady, but her knuckles whiten around the stem. "That's... him, isn't it?"

You don't answer. The air thickens with the scent of her jasmine perfume and the sour tang of your own fear. Another knock. Louder.

"Open the door," Voss purrs through the wood, smooth as bourbon. "Three weeks late. Let's discuss your... tardiness"

Lila stands, smoothing her sundress--the pale yellow one that clings to her hips. Your favorite. She hesitates, her gaze darting to you. Waiting. Begging you to be the man you'll never be.

You nod. Cowardice tastes like copper on your tongue.

The door swings open, and there he is: Mr. Voss, immaculate in a charcoal suit, his salt-and-pepper hair swept back like a crown. His eyes bypass you entirely, raking over Lila's bare shoulders, the flush creeping down her chest.

"One month's rent," he says, stepping inside uninvited. The door clicks shut behind him. "Three weeks of my patience. Three weeks of your lies." He withdraws a folded eviction notice from his breast pocket, crisp and white, and lets it flutter to the floor between you. "You're out tomorrow. Unless..."

Lila lifts her chin, but her voice wavers. "We'll get it--Ethan's got an interview next week--"

"Bullshit." Voss cuts her off with a laugh, closing the distance. His thumb brushes her wrist--casual, intimate--and she doesn't pull away. "We both know he's not the solution." His gaze drags down her body. "But you... you could wipe this debt clean. Tonight."

Your fists clench. "She's not--"

"Not what?" Voss turns to you, his smile venomous. "Not your property? Funny. Your name's on nothing here--not the lease, not the job apps, not even the fucking groceries." He steps closer, his cologne wrapping around you--sandalwood and something darker. "You're a ghost, Ethan. But she... she's real. Tangible. Valuable."

Lila's breath hitches. "What are you saying?"

Voss softens his voice, trailing a finger along her collarbone. "One night. Let me appreciate you. Properly. And the rent... vanishes." His hand drifts lower, hovering above her hip. "Or pack your things. Your choice."

Silence swells, suffocating. Lila's eyes flick to yours, searching for... what? Permission? Protest? You open your mouth, but the words crumble.

"One night," she whispers.

Voss's grin is slow, victorious. He plucks the wineglass from her hand, sets it down, and replaces it with his own fingers, lacing through hers. "Smart girl. Let's discuss terms."

He leads her toward the couch, pulling her onto his lap with a possessiveness that makes your gut churn. You stand frozen as his hand slides up her thigh, the eviction notice crumpling under your shoe.

"Relax, Ethan," Voss murmurs, nipping at Lila's ear. She shivers, her resolve melting under his touch. "This is just business."

You watch her lean into him.

And you do nothing.

***

Voss doesn't rush. That's what guts you most--the certainty. His fingers trace idle circles on Lila's thigh as she sits stiffly on his lap, her sundress hiked up to reveal the lace edge of her panties. Your Christmas gift to her.

"Terms are simple," he says, palming the curve of her hip. "You please me. I erase the debt. Fail to impress..." He shrugs, nodding at the eviction notice still crumpled at your feet. "Well. You've seen the alternative."

Lila's throat bobs. "And Ethan...?"

"Stays." Voss's smile is all teeth. "Learns what he's been depriving you of." His hand slips higher, thumb brushing the damp lace between her legs. She jerks, but doesn't pull away. "Unless you'd rather beg in the streets?"

"Don't--" you start, but Voss cuts you off with a glance.

"You forfeited your voice when you let her carry you," he sneers. "Sit. Watch."

The command pins you to the armchair. Lila looks at you, cheeks flushed--not with shame, but a heat you recognize. A heat you haven't sparked in months.

Voss unknots his tie with one hand, the silk slithering to the floor. "Stand up, Lila. Let him see what he's selling."

She hesitates, then rises, legs trembling. The dress clings to her curves, and you hate yourself for noticing how her nipples harden under the fabric. Fear? Arousal? Both?

"Turn," Voss orders. She obeys slowly, presenting her back to him. His hands settle on her waist, possessive. "Tell me, Ethan--when's the last time you touched her like this? Really touched her?"

Your jaw clenches. Last week. Last night. But the memories blur into static as Voss peels down her dress straps, baring her shoulders. His lips graze her neck, and she shudders--a full-body tremor that ripples through the room.

"See that?" he murmurs against her skin. "She's been starving. You let her starve."

Lila's breath hitches as his hands glide up to cup her breasts. "Mr. Voss, I--"

"Silas," he corrects, pinching her nipples. She gasps, arching into his touch. "Say it."

"Silas..." The name spills from her like a prayer.

"Good girl." He spins her to face him, fingers tangling in her hair. "Now ask nicely."

Her defiance cracks. "Please... don't make me--"

"Ah-ah." He clucks his tongue. "You don't want to stop. Not really." His thumb brushes her lower lip. "Ask nicely."

A beat. Two. Then, soft as a sigh: "... Please use me."

Voss's smile is predatory as he pulls her towards him and trails his fingers through her hair. "Since you asked so politely," he says with a smirk.

You lurch forward--finally--but he freezes you with a glare. "Sit. Down. Or I triple the rent."

Your knees buckle. Pathetic.

Lila watches you crumble, her eyes glazing with something worse than pity: disillusionment. Voss seizes the moment, kissing her hard. She stiffens... then melts, fingers clawing at his shoulders. A moan vibrates in her throat--your moan, the one she saves for lazy Sunday mornings.

"That's it," Voss growls, lifting her onto the coffee table and knocking over a glass. Wine pools around her thighs as he rips her panties aside. "Let him see how wet you are for a real man."

She's soaked. Glossy. Yours. Except not yours. Never yours like this.

Voss doesn't undress. Doesn't need to. He simply drags her hips to the edge of the table, his fingers skimming her inner thigh. "Look at him," he orders, tracing her slit, slick and shameless. "Let him watch you choose this."

Lila turns her head. Your eyes lock.

Beg me to stop.

She doesn't.

Two fingers plunge into her without warning. Her back arches, a ragged cry tearing free--a sound you've never heard, could never pull from her.

"Christ, you're dripping," Voss sneers, curling his fingers. The lewd slick of her need fills the air, louder than any moan. "How long's it been since she came with you? Really came?"

Your throat tightens. Last week. Last month. The lie curdles in your gut as Lila's hips buck.

He slaps her face, leaving a red bloom. "Truth."

"N-never--" she chokes out. "Not... not like--"

Voss laughs, scissoring his fingers deeper. "Of course not. Boys don't know how to work a woman."

You're hard. God, you're hard. Tears blur your vision as Lila's moans climb higher, her calves trembling against the table's edge.

"I'm... I'm so close--" she whimpers.

Voss stills abruptly, withdrawing his glistening hand. "Not yet."

He wipes his fingers on her parted lips, smearing her own arousal across her mouth. "Stand up."

She sways, unsteady, but he fists her hair and drags her to her knees. "Show your cuck what he's missing."

Lila hesitates--for a heartbeat--as Voss unzips himself, freeing his cock.

"Open," he commands, pressing the head to her smudged lips.

A tear slips down her cheek. You don't know who it's for.

Then she parts her lips.

And takes him in, deep.

***

A wet, rhythmic sounds fill the room. You can't look away. Lila's lips stretch around Voss's cock, her mascara smudged into dark wings, her fingers trembling where they grip his thighs--not pushing him away, anchoring herself.

Voss leans back against the couch, eyes half-lidded, one hand fisted in her hair. "Slower," he rasps, guiding her head with brutal precision. "Tongue up. That's it... fucking born for this."

Lila gags, tears spilling, but her hips grind against nothing, desperate. She's aching. You know that ache. You've caused it--left her trembling on the edge night after night, your pride too brittle to ask what she needed.

Voss knows.

"Pathetic, isn't she?" He smirks at you over her bobbing head. "Begging for my cock like a stray. Bet she's dripping." He yanks her off abruptly, saliva stringing between her lips and his shaft. "Check."

Your throat tightens. "Wh-what?"

"Check," he repeats, ice in his tone. "See what you've been neglecting."

Lila whimpers, shaking her head, but Voss grips her jaw. "Let him see, sweetheart. Let him learn."

You crawl forward--because crawl is all you can manage--and peer between her thighs. The lace of her panties clings to her, soaked through, fabric darkened and glistening. The scent hits you first: musk and salt and her, sharper than you've ever smelled it.

"Touch her," Voss orders.

Your hand hovers. Lila's eyes plead, but her legs fall open wider.

She wants this.

Your fingertip grazes her. She jerks, a choked moan escaping. So wet. So fucking hot. Your cock throbs, trapped in your jeans, betraying you.

Voss laughs. "Pathetic. You're rock-hard watching me own her." He stands, dragging Lila up by the hair. "Bedroom. Now."

She stumbles after him, legs unsteady, but there's a sway in her hips now--a rhythm, a dance. You follow, ghost-like, as Voss tears off her dress with a single tug. It's not violence; it's certainty. The fabric pools at her feet, and she steps out of it like shedding skin.

"On the bed," he growls. "Hands and knees."

She hesitates, glancing at you. For a heartbeat, you think she'll stop--hope she'll stop--but then she climbs onto the mattress, ass raised, face pressed into the pillows.

Voss unbuckles his belt, the clink of metal loud as a gunshot. "Tell him why you're doing this."

Lila's voice muffles into the sheets. "F-for the rent..."

He slaps her ass, sharp. "Truth."

She whimpers. "...I want it."

"Louder."

"I want it!" The words burst from her, raw and primal.

Voss nods at you. "Lube. Nightstand."

You fumble for the bottle, fingers numb. He snatches it, coating himself, then presses the slick tip against her.

"Please--" she gasps.

He sheathes himself in one thrust.

The scream she lets out isn't pain. It's relief.

You know that sound.

You've just never heard it.

Voss pounds into her, each snap of his hips echoing through the room. "This her usual pitch?" he taunts, gripping her hair. "Or do you bore her silent?"

You can't answer. Your hand drifts to your zipper, shame and need warring--

"Ah." Voss freezes, glaring. "You don't touch unless I allow it."

Lila whines, pushing back against him. "Don't stop--!"

He slaps her ass again, red blooming on her skin. "Quiet." His eyes lock on yours. "You want to come? Beg."

Your lips tremble. "P-please..."

"Please...?"

"Please let me... touch myself."

Voss laughs, resuming his rhythm. "Denied."

Lila's moans climb higher, her fingers clawing the sheets. "I'm--I'm gonna--"

"Not yet." He pulls out, flipping her onto her back. "Look at him while I ruin you."

She obeys, her gaze finding yours as he drives back in. Her eyes are glazed, ruined, her lips parted in a silent scream.

You've never seen her so alive.

Voss grinds deeper, his thumb circling her clit. "Come. Now."

She shatters, back arching, a broken chant of "yes, yes, yes--" spilling from her lips.

***

The room reeks of sex and shame. Lila lies sprawled across the bed, skin glistening, legs still parted but trembling now--weakly, like her defiance has been drained. Voss looms over her, buttoning his shirt with infuriating calm. You hover in the doorway, your untouched cock aching, your pride in tatters.

"Clean her," Voss says, nodding at the mess between Lila's thighs--his mess.

You freeze. "Wh-what?"

He sighs, as if explaining to a child. "Your tongue. Her cunt. Now."

Lila's breath hitches. She tries to sit up, but her arms buckle. "Silas, please... don't make him--"

"Make him?" Voss arches a brow, stroking her cheek. "You think I'm cruel?" His fingers drift down to her throat, not squeezing, just resting. "You begged for this. Screamed for it. Now let him taste what he'll never earn again."

She whimpers, turning her face into the pillow. Not defiance--shame.

You step forward, desperate to reclaim some shred of dignity. "Lila, you don't have to--"

"Kneel," Voss snaps.

Your body obeys before your mind can protest. The carpet bites your knees as you crawl to the bed. Lila watches through splayed fingers, her lips swollen, her gaze fractured.

Voss grips your hair, forcing your face between her legs. The tang of him mixes with her sweetness, a cocktail of humiliation. "Lick," he orders. "And don't you dare make her come."

You hesitate, but Lila's hand flutters to your head--not guiding, trembling. Her thighs quiver as your tongue brushes her. She gasps, hips jerking away instinctively, but Voss pins her down.

"Stay," he growls at her, then glares at you. "Harder."

You obey, lapping at her with mechanical strokes. She tastes different--violated, yet undeniably aroused. Her fingers twist in the sheets, knuckles white, as she fights the tension coiling in her belly.

"P-please..." she whispers, though it's unclear who she's begging.

Voss leans close, his breath hot on her ear. "Please what, princess? Want him to stop? Or... want me to finish what he started?"

A tear slips down her cheek. "I... I can't..."

"You can." He presses two fingers into her mouth, making her suck them clean. "You're mine now. Your pleasure, your pain--it's all mine to give."

She whines around his fingers, hips rocking faintly against your tongue. Trapped between disgust and need.

Voss withdraws his hand, smirking. "Close, aren't you? Bet you'd come in seconds if I let him keep going." He yanks your head back, leaving her shuddering on the edge. "But that's not his role anymore."

Lila sobs, chest heaving, as Voss unbuckles his belt again. "Turn over," he orders her. "Hands and knees."

She hesitates, eyes darting to you--searching for rescue you can't give--before slowly obeying. Her submission is mechanical, her earlier fire reduced to embers.

Voss drags her hips back, thrusting into her without preamble. She cries out, but it's swallowed by the pillow, her fingers clawing at the mattress. "Look at him," Voss snarls, snapping his hips. "Let him see how small you've become."

She turns her head, her gaze hollow, defeated. You want to vomit. Want to scream. But you're frozen, watching her unravel under his ownership.

"F-faster..." she whimpers, the plea slipping out like a confession.

Voss chuckles, obliging. The bedframe rattles, her moans climbing higher, shattered. "Gonna come?" he taunts. "Gonna cream on my cock like the good little slut you are?"

"N-no--!"

He slaps her ass, the sound sharp. "Truth."

She breaks. "Y-yes... yes!"

Her orgasm hits like a seizure, body bowing, a broken scream tearing loose. Voss follows with a grunt, filling her again as she collapses.

When he pulls out, he nods at the glistening mess. "Clean her. Properly this time."

You crawl forward, lapping at her spent folds, the taste of their union bitter on your tongue. Lila doesn't move. Doesn't speak.

You realize, too late, neither do you.

***

Voss doesn't let you breathe. He drags Lila by the wrist into the living room, her bare feet stumbling over the eviction notice still crumpled on the floor. You trail behind, a shadow in your own home, your throat raw with unscreamed curses.

"On the couch," he orders her, pointing to the spot where you proposed two years ago--cheap champagne, her laughter like sunlight. Now, it's a stage for your erasure.

Lila hesitates, her arms crossed over her exposed chest. "Silas, I... I need a minute--"

"You need obedience." He grips her chin, his voice softening to a venomous purr. "Or should I remind you what happens when you test me?"

Her shoulders slump. She perches on the edge of the couch, knees pressed tightly together, gaze fixed on the stain her wine left earlier. Voss turns to you, smirking.

"Strip her."

The command hangs, barbed. You blink. "What?"

"You heard me." He tosses you a pair of scissors. "Cut. It. Off."

Lila's sundress--the yellow one, your favorite--is already torn, hanging loose off one shoulder. You clutch the scissors, metal biting your palm.

"Ethan, don't--" she whispers, but Voss silences her with a look.

"He wants to," Voss lies smoothly. "Don't you, boy? Want to see what I've seen? What I've tasted?"

Your hands tremble as you kneel before her. Lila's breath hitches when the cold steel grazes her collarbone. Snip. The fabric falls away, baring her left breast.

"Faster," Voss growls.

You cut methodically, shredding the dress into ribbons. Each slice feels like severing a memory--picnics, mornings tangled in sheets, her smile. By the time you're done, she's naked but for the ruined lace around her ankles.

"Pathetic," Voss sneers, circling her. "Even now, you're gentle. Weak." He shoves you aside, claiming your place between her legs. "Let me show you how it's done."

He fists her hair, yanking her head back. "Open."

She parts her lips, eyes fluttering shut, as he spits into her mouth. "Swallow," he commands. She does, throat working, a tear slipping free.

"Now him."

Lila's eyes snap open. "No--"

Voss backhands her. Not hard. Just enough to sting. "You're mine. Your mouth, your cunt, your spit--all mine. Do it."

She turns to you, trembling. Leans in. Your breath mingles--wine, salt, him--before she presses her lips to yours. You taste it immediately: Voss's arrogance, her shame, the bitter tang of surrender.

She pulls back, gagging. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry--"

Voss laughs. "She's terrible at this, isn't she?" He unzips, freeing himself, and slaps his cock against her cheek. "But you'll learn."

He feeds himself into her mouth, grip tight on her skull. "Watch closely, Ethan. This is how you own a woman."

Lila gags, tears streaming, but Voss doesn't relent. His hips piston, fucking her throat with brutal precision. You're hard again. God, you're hard.

"See her hands?" Voss grunts.

You do. Lila's fingers are splayed on his thighs--not pushing, clinging.

"She's addicted," he sneers. "To being used. To being beneath." He yanks her off, saliva stringing from her lips. "Aren't you?"

She coughs, gasping. "...Yes."

"Yes...?"

"Yes, sir!"

He rewards her with a kiss--deep, possessive--before shoving her onto her back. "Legs up. Let him see what he's lost."

She obeys, hooking her knees over the couch arms, exposing herself fully. Glossy. Swollen. Ruined.

Voss thrusts in one smooth motion. Lila's scream splinters into a moan.

"Count," he orders her.

"O-one..."

He pulls out, slams back in. "Two!"

The numbers climb, her voice breaking. You count with her silently, each thrust a nail in your coffin.

At twenty-seven, she seizes, back arching. "S-Silas, I'm--!"

"Denied." He withdraws, leaving her shaking. "Beg."

"Please!" she sobs, fingers clawing the cushions. "Let me come--I'll do anything!"

Voss glances at you. "Anything?"

She nods frantically.

"Then tell him."

Her chest heaves. "Ethan... I... I need him. Not you."

The words gut you. Voss rams back into her.

She comes screaming, her thighs clamping around him, body convulsing. He follows with a roar, filling her as she whimpers, "More..."