Ilsa was nervous, and understandably so. This was her first job after landing in London three weeks ago, and despite her initial reservations, the idea of becoming a model did appeal to her. After all, she had the example of Nataly from her village, who came back bearing all sorts of gifts for family and friends just a few months ago.
It was Nataly's visit that made Ilsa reconsider her goals in life. After all, work in small Russian villages like the one she lived in was hard to come by. At the time, Ilsa was simply a shop girl in the town's only grocery store, a position she had gotten not least because the lecherous old grocer had had designs on her.
She had known it the moment he had offered the job to her, and confirmed it on her first day when he slipped his hand under her skirt and felt for her panties, before promising to buy her nice lace ones if she "did it" with him. Of course, Ilsa was having none of that -- at 1.8m tall, with long, honey-blond hair and eyes the brilliant blue of a summer's day, Ilsa had received more than her fair share of attention from the males. . It did not stop her employer from trying, though, which he did with annoying regularity, sometimes within eyesight of his fat, ugly old wife.
In fact, some of her friends, guys and girls, had told her that her legs seemed to "go on forever" and encouraged her to consider modeling, but she had refused because she was a good Russian girl who didn't do that sort of thing
The idea did appeal to her a little, truth be told, but the idea of parading around half-naked in front of total strangers was somewhat abhorrent to her. Besides, there was no way she would be pretty or slim enough to be a model, she had thought -- her breasts were too big at size D, and her ass... well, she thought it was her worst feature because it was too big. All the models she saw on the old television in her apartment were much more slender, with thinner legs and much smaller butts than hers. She would simply look like a monster with her 36-24-35 figure next to them.
Nataly's return to the little burg that was her village changed her thinking on that. Nataly was roughly the same size as Ilsa was... they were schoolmates and she remembered countless occasions when they shared their wardrobes with each other because each had wanted a greater variety of clothing for going out than their finances actually allowed them.
In fact, Nataly's ass was bigger than hers, so when she returned with stories of success in modeling, Ilsa was naturally intrigued. Of course, that she showed up with such luxuriant clothes and jewelry also encouraged Ilsa. If Nataly could make it as a model, so could she, Ilsa reasoned. After all, Ilsa was by far the more popular girl in school -- she had had to reject many more clumsy advances from the boys (and a number of the men) than Nataly had ever had.
While she had pondered her future, she had also thought over the other, less-savoury rumours making their rounds in the village about the source of Nataly's riches. Some said that she had managed to find a rich old man who doted on her; others insisted that Nataly had become a porn star and prostitute, and regularly sold her services to the highest bidder at nightclubs.
She didn't believe her schoolmate would even consider such a thing -- Nataly had been a real prude when she was schooling with Ilsa -- so she didn't put much store in such rumours. Still, it was disturbing, to say the least, that the same villagers who were receiving Nataly's gifts with such enthusiasm were saying such things about her.
She had made up her mind when her employer escalated his crude attempts at bedding her the very same week that Nataly returned. She had been on the stepladder in the storeroom, looking for a carton of canned food that her boss had asked for, when he sneaked in behind her and put his hands up her short skirt.
It had irritated her that he had insisted on her wearing the outfit, but Ilsa felt she had had little choice. The salary he was paying her was a mere pittance, and although the uniform was so obscenely short it barely covered her behind, it at least meant she did not have to worry about what to wear for work everyday.
Of course, the length of the skirt made her work difficult -- on her first day, she was asked to reach for items placed at floor level at every opportunity, by her employer and the long line of men who were suddenly interested in buying groceries. After the third time, she realized why -- the door had opened at the time, and she had realized she was exposing her ass cheeks when she felt the cold air blowing on her exposed backside. Being the resourceful 18-year-old, Ilsa had adapted by squatting to pick up the items. The following day, she brought along a long-handled scoop so she didn't have to bend over, much to the chagrin of the male customers.
Instead of being upset at being foiled, her employer had been pleased -- he had sidled up to her and whispered: "I can tell you are a good girl, Ilsa. Good girls get heavenly rewards if they do as they are told", while his hand strayed up her skirt and ran along the leg seam of her panties.
She had quickly moved away to show her displeasure at being manhandled thus, but it seemed to inflame her boss' passions even more. In the intervening days, he would find every opportunity to stand next to her and run his hand up and down her buttocks. The only way Ilsa could get away from such unwanted attention was to stand next to his wife, but such respite was not offered often, because the old woman was seldom at the shop.
The incident in the storeroom, which was essentially the last straw for Ilsa, happened just two months into her job at the grocery. All the men were going gaga over Nataly and Ilsa had foolishly thought that her employer would be similarly smitten, but he had had other plans, now that there were less people visiting his store.
He had instructed her to go into the storeroom to get a carton of canned food from the top shelf. This was something he normally did himself, and it did seem a little strange to Ilsa that he was asking her to do it instead, but she did as she was told -- he was still her boss, after all. It was to be an instruction she would regret following.
As she lifted the carton from the shelf and moved to step down the ladder, she felt her boss' fat hands sliding up the outside of her thighs. "Stop it!" she hissed at him, her arms struggling to hold on to the heavy weight. He chuckled behind her, ignoring her protest, and proceeded to hook his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pull them down past her knees.
In shock, Ilsa's first instinct had been to clamp her thighs together to deny him the sight of her naked sex, but he was as quick as he was insistent -- his hands rushed up again to pry her buttocks apart and expose her anus and vulva to his leering eyes.
"Oh, such a beautiful golden treasure. I will give you great pleasure," he had purred, and before she had been able to do anything else, he had placed his mouth within the groove of her ass and started sucking and licking. She had shuddered when she felt his tongue probing at her ass and pussy holes -- it was not something she had ever experienced, even though she had heard about it -- and the idea that the repulsive little man she called her boss was trying to give her sexual pleasure was disgusting to say the least.
