Chapter One


She had borrowed the skirt. It was a slim, charcoal gray, the hem falling to almost her knees. She wore a white blouse she'd picked up on sale at Wal-Mart, had had her makeup applied by one of the girls at Target in a free makeover. Her hair was the only thing she'd done herself, but that was mainly because it didn't need much doing.

Her hair had always been a soft, full, silky mahogany brown which fell beautifully around her face and spilled over her shoulders.

The look on her face was attentive, and showed no trace of the nervousness she felt as she walked into the interview room. But then, she'd had a lot of practice in not showing her emotions.

The woman behind the desk looked like she had a scowl permanently embedded in her forehead. She was plump, jowly, gray haired, and had thick framed glasses on her oversize nose. She stared down at Robin's resume and application, then looked up at her, then looked down again, then looked up, the same scowl on her face.

Robin kept a sort of faint look of interest plastered on her face, telling herself that her references would already have checked out or she'd not be here. Which meant her friend Karen, who worked at Trump Tower, had lied about her having worked there.

In fact, Robin's actual resume to date contained little more than working at Burger King, and at a  bar known for short-skirted waitresses in stiletto heels. She'd included both of these, but it was the Trump Tower one she was hoping would get her hired

The Royal was a very expensive hotel and apartment building in downtown New York. The first fifty floors were hotel and the next thirty were for very high-priced condos: condos for the wealthy.

Robin was not, of course, wealthy by any imaginable stretch of the word. Her parents had been middle class, and she'd had a year of secretarial courses in community college but her life had gotten sidetracked since she'd met Derek.

Derek kept trying things he hoped would make him rich, but nothing ever seemed to succeed, and then he'd jump to something else. Robin worried that was because he drank so much, and smoked so much, but he definitely wasn't interested in her opinions in that regard!

So one or the other of them, or often enough both of them were on welfare, and barely able to meet the rent in their squalid little apartment in the Bronx. And even then mostly because he sold drugs. It wasn't the hard stuff – that was too dangerous – so he didn't make that much, but it kept them off the streets.

Of course, if he didn't spend so much on beer and weed he wouldn't need to deal drugs at all, she thought. That was an opinion she'd offered up to him a couple of weeks back which had gotten her a black eye.

“As you will understand, Miss Evans,” the woman said. “Our guests and residents pay a premium for their stay here, and for all the services we supply. That means they expect a certain measure of respect in return in their dealings with staff.”

Well, duh, Robin thought.

“Yes, Ma'am,” she said with complete agreement, bobbing her head.

“In addition, with great success, and all our guests and residents are very successful, comes, at times, a degree of confidence, even arrogance, which could cause offense. Our staff are expected to not take offense. Do you understand my meaning?”

“Of course, Ma'am!” she said with a certainty.

Being as deferential and careful around Derek as she'd had to be these last six months should certainly make her able to tolerate anything these rich assholes might throw at her, she thought.

The woman steepled her fingers as she examined Robin.

“There are several qualifications for front staff,” she said. “Capability is first, of course. A personable, respectful, and helpful attitude is second. Third is, let us be honest, attractiveness.”

Robin blinked in surprise, but gave no other sign of it.

“The owner of the Royal has put enormous amounts of time, effort and money into making every single corner of this building as pleasing to the eye as possible. The finest materials from around the world, the finest designers, the finest artisans. We therefore expect our staff to maintain that image of regal, subdued, sophisticated beauty.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” she replied.

What else was she to say?

“In other words, Miss Evans, you will wear no visible piercings other than in the ears, and those will be – subdued and conservative. You will not get any sort of tattoo which is visible over your uniform. You will not wear any kind of heavy makeup which looks cheap or trashy. Which includes such things as bright red, or for that matter, black lipstick or nail polish.”

“Yes, Ma'am!” she said.

“You will speak in a quiet, respectful voice. There will be no high-pitched squeals or giggles for whatever reason. You will smile in a friendly manner whenever any guest speaks to you. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Ma'am!”

“Your hair will be neat and tidy at all times, clean and in a conservative cut such as what you are wearing now. Your looks are not why you are being hired, Evans, but they are a part of it. If they change substantially, including your gaining substantial weight, your services here might well no longer be needed. Am I making myself understood?”

“Yes, Ma'am!”

Living with Derek had taught her a degree of empathy, that is, recognizing what a person with power over her wanted. It was clear to her this woman wanted nothing from her but obedience. Which, she thought, was pretty much what Derek usually wanted, too.

Derek, of course, was considerably sexier than Mrs. Abrams.

“Very well,” Abrams said. “You will go to the desk and ask for Mister Tollins. He will provide you with the forms you need to fill out, as well as your uniform, and will provide you with a schedule and a start time.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Abrams!” she said with unfeigned enthusiasm.

“Remember, Miss Evans, that an offer made can be just as quickly withdrawn,” the woman said, scowling.

“Yes, Ma'am!”


Her excitement at having gotten the job didn't win her a lot of congratulations at home.

“Sucking up to rich fucks,” Derek sneered.

“It pays well,” she said with a shrug.

“Because they have all the fucking money and everyone else gets screwed.”

He was not in a good mood, she sensed.

“How is the uhm, house hunting going?”

“Fuck off!”

She pursed her lips and decided to do just that, moving into the bedroom to get out of her clothes, especially the skirt, before they got dirty and she had to wash and iron them.

Derek's latest scheme came from a book and DVDs he'd bought on the internet which claimed there were thousands of houses out there whose owners had gone bankrupt, and which you could buy for a few hundred dollars, then re-sell for the full price.

He came into the room as she was hanging up her blouse, and his eyes flicked up and down her lithe young body.

“I know one sure way to make money,” he said.

She felt a sense of anxiety.

“I'm not doing a sex site,” she said flatly.

“What the fuck do you have to be ashamed of anyway? You have a gorgeous fucking body!”

“You're pretty gorgeous too,” she said with a smile.

He did indeed have a powerful body, and his face was handsome, with a rugged look to it. His head was shaved, and he was, as always, a day past where he should have shaved.

“Yeah, but bitches won't pay to see hot naked guys on the internet.”

“Gay guys would,” she said thoughtlessly.

She gasped as he lurched forward and grabbed her by the neck, then shoved her roughly against the wall.

“You calling me a faggot?”

“No! Of course not!” she gasped. “I know you're all man, Derek!”

“Fucking arrogant bitch. You always think you're too good for me!”

“I don't!” she said anxiously.

His big hand held her pinned to the wall as the other thrust in against her bare buttocks.

“Fuck you have a nice ass,” he said, stroking her soft skin around the thin black thong.

She felt his fingers thrust up through the waistband and gasped as she felt her thong digging into her soft sex, then squealed as he used it to pull her backwards, swing her around and send her spinning onto the bed.

He was wearing a tank top, and peeled it off, showing his powerful chest, half covered in a tattoo of a dragon. He jerked his shorts down and off, and Robin felt a little thrum of heat between her legs. He had such a powerful, such a … a male body!

He leaned forward and grabbed her by the ankle, and she gasped as he yanked her effortlessly towards him, her lower body spilling over the side of the bed.

Crack! His hand slapped her sharply, stingingly on the ass, and she yelped in pain.

He peeled her thong roughly down and off.

“Spread your legs, slut!”

Moaning, Robin quickly obeyed, and his big hand thrust in between her thighs, cupping her sex and squeezing it somewhat painfully.

“Remember who this belongs to, bitch,” he said, squeezing and rubbing her. “You start putting out for them rich hotel guys and I'll beat the shit out of you!”

“I-I would never do that, Derek!” she gasped. “I love you!”

Crack! His open hand slapped sharply against her bottom again.

Then he spit on his hand and rubbed it against his cock, rubbing that, in turn, up and down along the line of her sex.

He stopped, then undid her bra, taking it off. She felt him gripping her arms and yanking them back behind her, and she felt her wrists being tied together. That didn't surprise her. He often tied her up. And it even kind of excited her.

He yanked her off the bed, then, and gathered up her hair, pulling it sharply enough to make her gasp in pain.

“Suck my cock, slut,” he growled.

He pulled her in against him, and she licked quickly up and down against the head.

“Open your slut mouth!”

She anxiously obeyed, opening her mouth wide, and he pushed his cock in, jamming it in against the inside of her left cheek repeatedly as he twisted her hair, before turning her head again and then pushing it deeper into her mouth.

Robin braced herself and gurgled as he shoved himself deep into her throat. He pulled her forward by the hair and head, jamming her lips against him so hard they ached, and holding her there for long, long seconds before easing back.

Then he started to fuck her, hard and fast, jerking on her hair as his hips pumped in and out, his thick cock moving swiftly up and down in her throat as she gurgled and occasionally gagged, and fought desperately to breath.

She had considerable experience with his rough sex, of course. She even liked rough sex, at least, from a powerful, macho man like Derek. But this part of it, fucking her face, was never easy because he was always too rough.

He pulled out at last and she gulped in air, gasping for breath as he used his grip on her hair to force her head back and make her back arch sharply.

“Hot little slut,” he said, roughly groping her breast.

He pulled her back upright, holding her head in both hands as he drove himself down her throat once again and fucked her hard and fast, pulling out only to occasionally let her breath, but not for long, leaving her gasping, dazed and light-headed.

Then he came in her face, holding her firmly by the hair as she knelt dazedly in front of her, and spraying his semen over her in thick, pumping spurts.

He laughed, then and released her hair.

He left her, going back into the living room to his beer, and Robin knelt there gulping in air for a long minute before getting up to follow.

“Could you untie me, please, honey?” she asked in her meekest, most little-girly voice.

“Who says I want you untied, bitch?”

She smiled meekly.

“I can't make lunch or anything if I'm tied up,” she said.

He yanked her across his lap and she gasped.



“I don't need you to make lunch, bitch,” he said, his hand thrusting between her thighs and squeezing her.


“I need you to do what I fucking want.”



Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Oh! Ow! Please! Oh! Derek! Oh!”

He chuckled and then he fingered her clitoris. She felt his thumb sinking into her sex, which, despite how rough or perhaps because of how rough he had been was already somewhat wet. Feeling herself penetrated, as always, aroused her more, especially as his other fingers began to skillfully stroke and rub and massage her clitoris.

“I know what a hot little whore you are,” he said. “You pretend you're some kind of fucking nun. Won't strip. Won't do porn. But you come like a whore when I stuff something up your tight cunt.”

Robin moaned and writhed there across his lap as his fingers pumped and stroked her, and the other slid over her body, kneading her breast and then gripping her hair and jerking it up and back.

“Let me see you come, whore,” he said.

She whimpered and moaned, the rising heat spreading through her body as his fingers manipulated her.

Sometimes she thought she really was a whore, just like he was always calling her. She certainly loved sex, at least with him. When he was pounding away at her she felt like some kind of wild animal! And all she cared about was that hard cock punching into her!

He tumbled her roughly onto the floor, then used her hair to drag her mouth back to his groin to suck and lick him again. She sucked his balls into her mouth as he roughly groped her breasts, and licked her way up and down his shaft as it hardened.

When he was hard he pulled her up by the hair until she was straddling him, then sank her down onto his slick shaft. His hands slid beneath her buttocks and he began to jerk her up and down as she squealed and gasped and moaned in both pain and pleasure.

She leaned in and he began to suck and chew at her breasts and nipples, drawing his hands back from under her buttocks to squeeze them repeatedly.

He slapped her ass.

“Ride me, slut!”

Panting and moaning, Robin obeyed, riding up and down on his cock as the heat spread and deepened within her. Her breathing became more ragged, her gasps noisier and filled with passion, and then just as she began to come he wrapped both hands around her throat and choked her hard, making her eyes bulge.

She gurgled dazedly, eyes bulging as she rode frantically up and down, crying out – nearly silently, as he choked her, her lips opening and closing wide, like a fish as she came light-headed again.

He released her throat and she gasped explosively as he chuckled, grasping her breasts again – hard, and using them to force her to continue riding up and down on his cock.

The orgasm faded, leaving her shell-shocked, feeling boneless and weak. But he forced her to continue riding him until his own orgasm arrived and he shot his seed into her overheated belly.

Then he flung her off, untied her and opened another beer.