Rent Control

1.

Ryan toyed with the stem of his empty mimosa, eyes unfocused, half-listening to the Sunday swirl of conversation and cutlery. Leo was across from him, demolishing eggs Benedict with athletic focus. Taylor scrolled through her phone, thumb flicking rapid-fire while she sliced up her pancakes with just her fork. She went for another sip of mimosa and found her glass empty.

"Another round?" Taylor asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully as a server passed by.

Leo grinned. "Twist my arm."

Ryan's hand drifted to his wallet, hovered, then retreated as if burned. "Uh. I probably shouldn't. Trying to keep a lid on expenses this month."

Leo snorted, shooting Taylor a look. "That's, what, the third brunch in a row you've been 'keeping a lid on it'?"

Taylor put her phone on the table. "Come on, you're the only homeowner here. And you've got rental income! Shouldn't you be buying us mimosas?"

Ryan laughed awkwardly. "You know how it is. Life's expensive."

Leo leaned back in his chair, studying his friend. Ryan looked healthy enough. Maybe a little tired. A little thinner than usual.

"Seriously, man," Leo said, lowering his voice slightly. "What's going on? You own a house. You have a decent job. No kids, no crazy lifestyle. You should be rolling in it compared to the rest of us."

Taylor nodded, backing him up. "Yeah. And you have Sabrina paying rent, too."

At the mention of Sabrina, the mood at the table shifted. Leo grumbled. But Ryan's pupils dilated, and his easy posture stiffened. When he spoke, his voice had a rehearsed quality to it, like he was reading from a script he'd memorized too well.

"Sabrina is an excellent tenant," he said. "She pays on time every month."

Leo's mouth twitched. He set down his fork, leaning in. "Yeah, but it's got to be weird, right? Having your ex living in the basement? Especially

that

ex."

Ryan blinked slowly. His smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Our arrangement is mutually beneficial," he said.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "'Mutually beneficial'? You guys negotiating a trade deal or something?"

Leo pressed. "Uh-huh. So what's she paying, anyway?"

Ryan opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He frowned, just briefly, like he was chasing a word he couldn't catch. "It covers most things," he said briskly. "We don't nickel and dime it."

Taylor mouthed 'is he for real?' at Leo.

Before they could dig further, Ryan changed the subject. "Hey, did you see they redid the menu?" he blurted, seizing on a safe topic. "Avocado toast has truffle oil now. Wild, right?"

Leo just stared at him. Ryan kept glancing at his watch, then the door, then his phone. His foot tapped like a Morse code SOS.

"Big plans today?" Leo asked, keeping it casual.

Ryan smiled, but there was a tautness in it now, a rising urgency he couldn't quite hide. "It's the first of the month... you know, collection day," he announced, with an odd gravity, like it was a holiday.

"Collection day," Leo repeated, skeptical.

Ryan nodded. His fingers tapped a jittery rhythm against the table.

"So you collect the rent from your ex in person, huh?" Taylor asked, her eyes sparkling.

Leo picked up on it. "Is that part of the trade deal you've 'negotiated'?"

Ryan leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, sighing dramatically. "Guys! It's not a big deal, Sabrina being my tenant. This arrangement works for us."

Taylor opened her mouth to needle him further, but Ryan's phone alarm chimed, and he startled so hard his fork rattled. He jabbed at the screen, stood, and started smoothing his shirt, fussing with his hair. He looked less like a landlord and more like a man about to meet his date.

"Ok, guys," he said, "this was fun, but I've got places to be."

Taylor's eyes narrowed. "You just fixed your hair, you know."

Ryan gave her a baffled look, then a strained laugh. "Guess I want to look presentable. See you!"

He was gone before they could reply, practically jogging toward the door.

Leo stared after him. "He's getting really weird."

"Yeah," Taylor said. "Who collects rent in person anymore? Like, ever heard of Venmo?"

Leo's eyes didn't leave the door. "No, but seriously. I'm telling you--something's up. Sabrina

ruined

his sorry ass, and now she's living in his basement? I've gotta have a talk with the guy."

"Good idea," Taylor nodded. "And when you do, tell him to stop sticking us with the bill for brunch!"

2.

Ryan paused at the top of the basement stairs, clutching an empty envelope. His heart hammered in his chest. He told himself to relax, adjusting his shirt for the third time, smoothing invisible wrinkles. His fingers trembled.

He took a deep breath.

Calm down, dude,

he told himself.

We do this every month. It's not a big deal.

The words echoed hollowly in his mind. They didn't seem quite credible.

He knocked. Two taps, pause, one. He couldn't have said why that rhythm felt so necessary, only that it did. Habits are funny like that. Behind the door, soft footsteps approached--bare, unhurried.

Sabrina swung the door open.

She wore a low-cut, silky blouse and short shorts, her hair tousled in casual waves. The top clung to her curves, the neckline plunging deep enough that Ryan's gaze dropped without conscious thought. Her breasts swelled against the thin fabric, the faint outline making his throat dry.

"Ryan! It must be the first today. Come in, baby. Let's get that rent sorted out," Sabrina said with a warm smile.

His body moved before his mind caught up. The air inside her place was humid, tinged with something sweet and narcotic--some incense or essential oil she was always diffusing. He could smell it from the floor upstairs, sometimes. It was a cloudy day, and the basement suite was dim. Sabrina hated the harsh overhead lights, so warm lamplight gilded every surface instead.

Ryan tried not to think of the vibe as romantic. He followed her like a man trailing a scent in the dark.

She led him into the living room, offered him a seat on the soft, luxurious sofa. He failed to question why she hadn't handed him cash at the door. Why he didn't insist on it, and followed her into her lair instead. He sank back on the couch, aroused and strangely drowsy. His heart was pounding; the envelope might as well have held an IOU for his composure.

Sabrina stood above him, too close. He tried to meet her eyes and failed. Gravity pulled his gaze lower--down the open front of her blouse, into the deep, impossible valley of her cleavage.

He didn't even realize he was staring until she leaned forward, bracing a hand on her knee. Her breasts strained against the silk, their shape perfect and their size overpowering, creating a pulsing ache at the center of his world.

"You remember how we do this, Ryan?" Sabrina asked, voice dipped in honey. She toyed with a button, not looking at her hands--her eyes fixed on him, measuring his reaction.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Yes," he said, but the word came out thin, lost. "Same as every month..."

She smiled, slow and knowing. "Good boy."

One button slipped free, then another. The blouse peeled back in slow motion, silk falling away to reveal bare, heavy flesh, a whisper of perfume, as though the sight alone wasn't enticing enough.

He watched, helpless, as she drew the fabric off her shoulders, letting her breasts fall loose, gleaming in the golden light. They bounced with her breath--a hypnotic rhythm his hindbrain recognized. Time slowed. All thought, all will, drained out of him in hot, heavy waves.

Big. Soft. Bouncy. Round. Perfect.

The words pounded in his head, crowding out everything else.

Sabrina swayed closer, breasts bobbing with every step. He felt his jaw slacken, breath quick and shallow. A dull, thumping pleasure bloomed between his ears, behind his eyes. Between his legs.

"That's right, Ry. Just stare for me. Deeper... same as every month." Her voice curled around his brain, slow and liquid.

He moaned, small and pathetic. He couldn't move, didn't want to.

"That's it, sweetheart," Sabrina said, leaning over him, her voice a soothing balm. "Just staring now. Remember that heaviness... that wonderful, empty feeling..."

Ryan made a tiny sound of surrender.

"Deeper for me... falling for me..." she whispered, her voice dropping lower.

"You remember how this works." She cupped her breasts in her hands. "What these are. What they do."

His head tilted back slightly as he gazed up at them, the corners of his mouth slack, his eyes wide and glassy.

"Yes... hypno tits... can't resist... can't resist... your hypno tits..." Ryan mumbled.

Sabrina giggled. The mantra was so silly, but it worked so, so well.

She leaned in even further, hands on the back of the sofa, framing him with her arms. Capturing him there, between the cushions behind and her breasts in front. Ryan could feel the heat radiating from her skin.

"You're such a good boy for me," she crooned. "You love supporting me. It feels so good, doesn't it?"

"So good," he sighed, dizzy with longing.

Her breasts pressed against his cheeks, pillowy and warm. "Drop the envelope, silly. You have more important things to do for me."

His body obeyed automatically. The empty envelope slid to the floor, forgotten. He unzipped his jeans, pulled out his cock. He hadn't even noticed how hard he was. But now the only thing he could do was stroke--slowly, in a well-trained rhythm--and let the pleasure sizzle in his brain.

"You always forget for me, don't you?" Sabrina murmured. "Forget why you're here. Forget what you wanted. It's so much easier to let me handle everything."

"Yes, Sabrina," he sighed, voice muffled by her breasts. Every time he tried to suck at her nipples, she pulled away just enough. Just enough to keep him needy, stroking, stupid, spellbound.

"That's my good boy," she said, her voice sweet and sing-song. "Don't think. Just pump. Just soak up what I say like a silly sponge."

He obeyed mindlessly, her scent and the sight of her breasts all that existed.

"You're going to send me a transfer tonight, right before bed. Just half your paycheck this time. It feels so right. You love taking care of me like this, always."

He mumbled his agreement, the words trickling out slow and sticky, like the precum slick on his palm. Need you. Support you. Always.

She stroked his hair, let her breast brush his lips again. "My perfect little cash machine. This is why you come down here, Ryan. Every month. You never question, never doubt. Because every time you do... all you can see is my hypno tits. And it feels perfect. Just perfect."

He felt himself sinking, stroking, lost in her rhythm, the pleasure sharp and endless and orgasm always just beyond reach.

"Perfect," he sighed, in complete agreement.

"Good boy," Sabrina said with a smile, her victory certain. She crouched to retrieve the envelope from the floor. It had the word RENT written across the front in blue pen, Ryan's loose handwriting. She put it down on his thigh. She picked a pen and little receipt pad off the coffee table, scribbled on the top receipt, and tore it off.

"Take this," she said, handing Ryan the pen and laying the receipt on top of the envelope on his leg. He kept stroking his straining cock with his other hand. "Sign there."

She tucked the countersigned receipt into the envelope with a grin, pleased.

"You'll remember collecting the rent. You'll remember being satisfied with our arrangement, and nothing else," Sabrina instructed, her final commands sinking deep.

He whimpered and nodded as he pumped mindlessly.

She leaned in, kissing him tenderly on the forehead. Then put her lips to his ear. "Zip up now, Ry. And forget."

Ryan blinked. He was at the door, envelope in hand, head clear, body buzzing with a faint, untraceable pleasure. He smiled. Rent collected. Arrangement working. Sabrina was such a good tenant.

Nothing to worry about at all.

He climbed the stairs, feeling lighter, not noticing how heavy his balls felt, or how empty the envelope was. And he wouldn't notice how empty his bank account was at the end of the week, either.

3.

Ryan woke to the shrill buzz of his alarm clock. The numbers glowed 7:00 AM.

He groaned, sitting up slowly, groggy, rubbing his temples. He'd been dreaming... something about Sabrina? But no, he'd seen Sabrina yesterday when he collected the rent. For a moment he sat there, blinking into the soft morning light slanting through the blinds, trying to piece together their encounter.

Fragments floated to the surface:

Knocking on Sabrina's door.

Her familiar, smiling face. Her familiar... body.

Sitting on her couch.

Then... nothing. But it had all gone fine, just like it did every month. Sabrina was such a good tenant, he mused. He was lucky she'd agreed to this whole arrangement.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and caught sight of a neatly folded piece of paper on the nightstand. Curious, he picked it up. It was a receipt.

Rent Paid in Full

, it read in bold letters, dated yesterday. Both their signatures were at the bottom.

Ryan stared at his signature. It looked like his handwriting. It was his handwriting. But he couldn't remember writing it.

"Guess seeing Sabrina is always a little distracting," he muttered, setting the paper down. He chuckled to himself. God, she was hot. And she'd been a wild lover, but he was glad they weren't together anymore. This arrangement worked much better.

The explanation soothed him immediately, like stepping under a warm shower.

He shuffled toward the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror stopped him cold for a second. He peered at himself. There--on his forehead--a faint smudge of lipstick.

His heart gave a little jump, but without thinking, he wiped it away. As his fingers brushed the mark, a wave of calm washed through him, smoothing away the ripple of confusion. He smiled placidly at himself.

He stepped into the shower, the hot water sluicing away the last of his doubts. By the time he dressed for work--khakis, polo shirt--he was cheerful, humming to himself.

In the kitchen, Ryan prepared a bowl of cereal. The house was quiet, save for an occasional soft sound floating up through the floor--Sabrina, moving around her suite. He paused, spoon halfway to his mouth.

A flash of memory:

Her cleavage, close and warm, filling his vision.

Ryan's body relaxed instantly. The spoon clattered back into the bowl. His breathing slowed. A dreamy, contented smile spread across his face.

"Everything's perfect," he murmured.

His phone pinged from the table: his banking app, with a low balance notification. His brows drew together faintly as he opened the app. He scrolled to his checking account and frowned. No deposit from yesterday, no cash from the rent he'd collected.

A faint unease stirred...

Her breasts, huge and soft, tantalizingly close to his lips.

...Then dissipated, like a breath held too long and forgotten.

"I'll deposit it later," he said aloud, though at the moment he couldn't remember where he'd stuck the envelope of Sabrina's money.

He looked over his account transactions. A significant chunk of his paycheck had been moved to an account labelled simply "Expenses".

He blinked at the figure--far more than he usually budgeted for bills.

For a heartbeat, confusion stirred again...

Her tits bouncing, up and down at the same pace as his hand on his cock.

...then smoothed away, leaving only peace in its wake.

"Bills are handled," Ryan said with satisfaction, setting his phone aside.

Finished breakfast, he grabbed his keys and slung his bag over his shoulder, whistling softly as he headed for the door. In the vestibule was the basement entrance. He hesitated. His hand rose automatically, knuckles poised to knock.

Then he frowned, lowering it slowly.

"No need to bother Sabrina, my guy. Not till next month," he said to himself.

Still, something tugged at the edge of his awareness--something he couldn't name.

Big. Soft. Bouncy. Round. Perfect.

He blinked several times and smiled at himself for daydreaming. Whatever he'd just been worrying about was gone. He left the house and started his car. As he went to work, his mind was light, his wallet was lighter, and he didn't have a single worry in the world.

4.

It had been a couple months since the last brunch, and Leo never had that talk with Ryan. Now he had an excuse. Leo parked in front of Ryan's house just as the evening sky deepened into a soft purple. The borrowed power drill he'd finally found sat in the passenger seat. He tried calling Ryan's cell again. No answer. The familiar battered sedan was right there in the driveway. Ryan had complained about wanting to replace the car for years, but never seemed to have the money.

Leo got out of the car, walked up the driveway, and rapped his knuckles against the front door. Waited. Rang the doorbell for good measure. Still nothing. He frowned.

Maybe Ryan was in the backyard? Leo debated just leaving the drill on the porch, but it would be just his luck if someone stole it. And he really ought to talk to Ryan. It was the first of the month, Leo had just paid his own rent, and that had turned his mind back to Ryan's weird situation.

Sabrina was a real babe, but she'd really hurt Ryan badly, and him renting his basement suite to her made no sense to Leo.

He sighed and tucked the drill under his arm, making his way along the side of the house. The evening air smelled faintly of cut grass and something sweeter he couldn't place.

As he passed by the basement windows, he slowed.

The curtains were drawn over the low windows, but one sash was open. Music drifted out--slow, rhythmic, and sexy.

Leo hesitated, unease prickling at the back of his neck. Pretty sure he heard voices, too, a woman and a man.

Curiosity gnawed at him. It wouldn't be spying, he told himself. Just making sure Ryan was okay. Just... being a good friend.

Still, as he crouched down, his cheeks flushed with guilt. He edged closer to the window until he found a small gap between the curtains. Cursing himself for doing it, he pushed them aside a little further, just enough so he could see--something that blew his mind.

Ryan was on his knees in the middle of the living room. Pants open, cock exposed, pumping himself slowly with a vacant, blissful look on his face. His body moved with the rhythm of the music, swaying slightly, eyes locked on something--someone--in front of him.

Sabrina.

She stood above him, a queen surveying her conquered subject. A lacy black bra was the only thing containing her heavy breasts. Barely containing them. She spoke softly, rhythmically, voice almost blending with the music.

"Deeper now, baby... just stroking and staring... just obeying..."

The words barely reached Leo's ears, but they curled in his mind all the same.

Ryan moaned softly.

Sabrina smiled, and with deliberate slowness, undid the front clasp of her bra.

The fabric fell away, revealing her full, bare breasts--round, soft, swaying with the slightest motion. They caught the warm light of the lamps in the room and seemed almost to glow.

Leo watched, helpless, as Ryan's panting deepened. His hands moved faster. His mouth hung open.

"Your mind belongs to my breasts... your money belongs to me..." Sabrina intoned, her voice a velvet rope pulling Ryan ever deeper.

Ryan repeated it like a mantra: "Mind belongs to hypno tits... money belongs to you..."

Leo's stomach twisted. Disbelief warred with horror. What the fuck had he stumbled into? But another feeling stirred too, low and insistent--arousal.