The Deal I Made with My Professor for a Car

The afternoon sun filtered through the faculty hallway’s tall windows, setting the dust floating in the still air ablaze. Daniela walked quickly, the echo of her boots bouncing through the silence of the nearly empty wing. She was twenty-two, with short black hair framing amber-colored eyes, and that afternoon those eyes were clouded by something she knew all too well.

The problem was always the same: money, or rather the lack of it. Her parents, on the other side of the country, were struggling with debts of their own, and she, unemployed, was condemned to public transportation until the end of her degree. Dreaming of a car of her own, of the freedom to come and go without depending on schedules or routes, was a luxury as distant as the stars.

That was when, turning toward the humanities wing, she crossed paths with Professor Aurelio. At seventy-one, time had carved deep furrows into his face, but his eyes, a faded blue, retained a disarming spark. He was the most beloved Art History lecturer and, according to rumor, also the most eccentric.

—Daniela, my dear, you look as though you’re carrying the whole world on those shoulders —he said in his rough, unhurried voice.

She forced a smile.

—Just the weight of the city, Professor. Dreaming about a car is my daily punishment.

Aurelio studied her with an almost clinical, academic attentiveness, but with an intensity that raised gooseflesh on her skin. It wasn’t the clumsy stare of the boys in her class; it was something deeper, more calculated. The old man’s eyes lingered a second too long on the curve of her tits beneath her blouse, then dropped to her hips. Daniela noticed and felt a strange, uncomfortable tingling, as though she had suddenly found herself naked in the middle of the hallway.

—A car… —he murmured, scratching his chin—. I have one. Almost new. A red coupé, sitting in my garage collecting dust. What a waste.

Daniela felt her heart lurch.

—Seriously?

—Of course. It could be yours. —He paused deliberately, letting the words hang in the air laden with chalk and old books—. Under certain conditions.

—Work for you? —she asked innocently—. Help you with your research?

The professor smiled, a small curve full of secrets.

—Something more… intimate. More direct.

Daniela frowned, not understanding.

—Three times a week —he continued, lowering his voice to a confidential tone that seemed to absorb all the sound in the hallway—. Three encounters. For a year. My car in exchange for your company, in the broadest sense of the word. I want to fuck you three times a week for twelve months, Daniela. No beating around the bush: your pussy, your mouth, and your ass at my disposal. And in exchange, the coupé.

The air caught in her lungs. Had she heard him correctly? Was the old and respected professor proposing to buy her, just like that, in those words, in the middle of the hallway? And yet it wasn’t the bluntness of the transaction that struck her, but its tempting, almost novelistic nature. It wasn’t dirty money: it was a car. Freedom on wheels. The equation was obscenely clear.

—It’s… it’s crazy —she managed to stammer, feeling a burning blush climb her neck and, involuntarily, pressing her thighs together.

Aurelio didn’t flinch. His smile softened, almost paternal.

—You don’t have to answer me now. Think about no longer waiting for the bus in the rain. Think about it.

With that, he turned and walked away, his stooped figure disappearing into the hallway’s gloom.

***

The fine rain that Friday night was the last straw. Soaked and shivering beneath a desolate bus shelter, Daniela watched the taillights of the last bus vanish into the mist. A curse froze on her lips. The damp seeped through her clothes, her phone was dying in the red, and she didn’t have enough credit to order a ride. Her parents wouldn’t be able to send her anything until the following week. Her helplessness was a knot in her throat, colder than the rain itself.

That was when a clean, silent vehicle stopped beside her. Not the red coupé she had imagined, but a tall, imposing black SUV. The window lowered, revealing Professor Aurelio’s composed face. Soft jazz played inside, and the comforting warmth of the heater greeted her.

—Daniela, get in. I’ll take you home. —His voice was calm, without a hint of pressure or triumph.

She looked at him. The proud student wanted to refuse, endure the cold, walk. But the realistic girl, the one who was fed up, wet, and penniless, opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. The scent of new leather and hot coffee enveloped her. The contrast with the cold outside was immense.

The drive was silent. Aurelio drove attentively, respecting her silence. Daniela watched the bright, empty streets, and with every mile the reality became clearer: that comfort, that security, could be hers. Not as a favor, but as an exchange.

When the SUV stopped in front of her modest apartment building, the silence became eloquent. Daniela unfastened her seat belt with trembling fingers.

—Professor —she said, her voice slightly hoarse, staring at his interlaced hands resting on his lap—. That offer… the one about the car. Is it still on the table?

He didn’t smile. He nodded slowly, once.

—Yes, Daniela. One year. Three times a week. The coupé is yours.

She nodded too, a small, nervous motion.

—I need to think about it a little longer. But… thank you. For bringing me home.

—Take all the time you need —he replied gently—. The door is open.

Daniela got out and watched him drive away, silent and powerful, swallowing the darkness. As she climbed the stairs toward her freezing apartment, she was no longer thinking only about the freedom of a car, but about the tangible solution hanging in the air, as heavy and real as an automobile key.

***

On the last day of that endless week, Daniela made her decision on the way to her final class. She was no longer a worried student, but a woman who had weighed her dignity against her freedom and put a price on it. A very high price, but a concrete one.

After class she didn’t go to the bus stop. She walked straight to the faculty parking lot, where the black SUV waited with its engine running. She opened the door and climbed in without a word. The scent of leather surrounded her again, but this time it wasn’t a temporary refuge: it was the prelude to a pact.

—Professor —she said, looking straight ahead, her voice firm—. I accept the deal.

Aurelio showed no surprise. He nodded with the serenity that seemed to be his trademark.

—Good. Then let’s set the rules, so there are no misunderstandings.

As the SUV merged into traffic, he outlined the agreement with an almost academic clarity, stripped of the lewdness Daniela might have feared.

—You’ll spend all day Saturday and Sunday at my house. From Friday night until Monday morning, if necessary. One additional day during the week, which I’ll let you know about in advance. Bring clothes to change into and whatever you need for your hygiene. You’ll have your own space. —He paused; the engine filled the silence—. As for intimacy, the encounters will be complete. No ambiguity. It’s a nonnegotiable requirement. We’ll fuck, Daniela. With everything that word implies. You’re going to suck my cock, I’m going to lick your pussy, I’m going to fuck you in every position I feel like, and if I want your ass one day, I’ll have that too. And I want you to fuck with enthusiasm, not like a piece of furniture. If you have any doubts, say so now.

The words, so crude and specific, reverberated inside the vehicle. Daniela shivered, but she also felt a strange calm, and something else: a warm dampness between her legs whose origin she couldn’t quite identify. At least there were no shadows. She knew exactly what she was facing.

—I have no doubts —she answered, surprised by the firmness of her own voice.

—When the year is over —he concluded—, the coupé is yours, with the papers signed. Until then, you can drive it. But it won’t legally be yours until the end.

It was an intelligent concession. It gave her a taste of freedom, but not ownership until she had fulfilled the agreement. Another incentive not to back out. Daniela drew a deep breath and nodded.

—All right.

There was no handshake and no signature. Only the silence sealing the pact. The SUV glided through the streets, no longer toward her apartment, but toward Aurelio’s house. The first weekend was beginning.

***

The professor’s house was surprisingly modest. Dark wooden furniture, shelves packed with books whose spines were worn, and a profound silence that enveloped everything. There were no luxuries, only a sense of order that contrasted with Daniela’s inner turmoil.

She left her backpack in the room he had assigned her, and then he led her to the garage. With an almost ceremonial gesture, he removed the canvas covering the car. The red coupé was revealed, modern and sporty, its paint gleaming even in the dim light. It was tangible. It was real. He held out the keys.

—You can sit inside.

Daniela slid into the driver’s seat. The scent of new leather surrounded her. She gripped the steering wheel, firm and cool beneath her fingers, and closed her eyes. She imagined Monday, arriving at the faculty, her friends’ envy, the freedom of no longer watching the clock in desperation. The image was so sweet that, for a second, everything seemed worth it.

The illusion shattered at the sound of Aurelio’s calm voice from the doorway.

—All right, Dani. I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be waiting for you in my room. Naked.

Reality, cold and concrete, settled over her shoulders again. The deal wasn’t merely about receiving a car. She was paying for it with her pussy.

She nodded silently and got out of the car. The keys weighed in her hand like a brick. She went upstairs, locked herself in the bathroom, and showered with water so hot it fogged the mirrors, scrubbing her skin hard as though she could wash away not sweat, but the decision she had made. She ran her fingers between her legs almost without thinking, confirming the obvious: she was wet, and it wasn’t from the water. The anger at her body for responding before her mind climbed into her throat. She dried herself, put on a thin robe, and wore nothing underneath. This wasn’t a date: it was an exchange.

It’s time to fulfill my end, she thought, looking at her blurred reflection in the glass. There was only cold resignation and a knot of nerves in her stomach. Barefoot, she walked toward Aurelio’s room. The door was ajar. She pushed it open carefully and went in.

***

The room was like the rest of the house: orderly, austere, with a large bed and a dim lamp that created more shadows than light. Aurelio sat on the edge, already showered, wearing an open cotton robe. His white, graying chest was visible, and lower down, a bulge pushed against the fabric. He watched her with the calm that was beginning to unsettle her. He said nothing. He simply waited, his right hand resting on his thigh as though he had the whole night ahead of him. Daniela held her breath and closed the door behind her.

—Come here —he said, without raising his voice—. And take that off.

She walked until she stood a step from the bed. With clumsy fingers she untied the robe and let it slip from her shoulders to the floor. She stood naked beneath the yellowish light, her nipples hard from the cool air, her hands instinctively crossing over her pubis. Without hurry, Aurelio moved her hands aside with two fingers, as though removing a veil, and looked her up and down, slowly and silently, assessing her. That silence humiliated her more than any comment could have.

—God, what a body you have, girl —he said at last, with a calm that made her shiver—. And on top of that, you used to come free on the bus.

He stood with a fluid movement, surprisingly agile for his age, and approached her. His large, prominent-veined hand rested first on her shoulder, then moved slowly down her side, deliberate and possessive. He cupped one of her tits, weighing it as though it were fruit, and squeezed her nipple between thumb and forefinger until Daniela let out a gasp. It wasn’t a caress, but an unspoken reminder: this already belonged to him.

—Your nipples get hard right away —he murmured, almost clinically—. Good sign.

With a skill that spoke of experience, he finished exploring her body. He ran his open palm over her belly, lowered it to her pubis, and opened the lips of her pussy with two fingers, examining her without shame. When he felt her wetness, he barely smiled.

—Look at you. You’re dripping and I haven’t even touched you properly yet. That body of yours knows what it wants, even if your mind is still resisting.

Daniela clenched her teeth. Shame burned in her cheeks. Aurelio slid a finger between her folds, long and unhurried, and pushed it in to the knuckle. She tensed from head to toe, raising one hand to the old man’s shoulder by reflex so she wouldn’t fall. The finger came out glistening, and he brought it to his lips without taking his eyes off her, sucking it calmly.

—Sweet —he remarked—. Very sweet.

Then he knelt in front of her. Daniela held her breath, gripping her own thighs with white knuckles, and fixed her gaze on the wall, trying to disconnect. Aurelio reached behind her and gripped one buttock hard, while with the other hand he opened her legs, separating her thigh.

—Open wider. I want a good look.

She obeyed, trembling. The first lick was slow and long, from bottom to top, dragging his entire tongue from the entrance of her pussy to her clitoris. Daniela released a short, high-pitched moan, one of those that escaped without permission. The second lick was the same, and the third. Then the tip of his tongue found her clitoris and began moving in precise circles, like someone following a map. The calm with which he did it was maddening; there wasn’t the slightest urgency. He explored her pussy with his mouth as though he had an exam to pass in slow motion.

The moans that escaped this time were different, less controlled: a mixture of shame, anger at her body’s betrayal, and involuntary pleasure filtering through the mental wall she had tried to build. Aurelio slid a finger inside her while continuing to suck her clitoris, then added another. He curled them inside, seeking that spot he knew exactly where to find, and Daniela felt her legs truly begin to give way.

—No… no… —she whispered, unsure whether she was asking him to stop or continue.

—Yes —he answered without removing his mouth. The vibration of his voice against her clitoris made her jump.

He increased the rhythm of his fingers, thrusting in and out with a wet smack that filled the room, while his tongue clung to her clitoris and gave it no respite. Daniela felt the orgasm forming in her belly, a hot ball growing beyond her ability to stop it. She tried to hold out, not to give him the satisfaction, but the old man had thirty more years of practice than all the boys she had slept with put together. She came with a broken moan, pressing his head against her pussy without realizing it, her hips moving on their own against his mouth. A tremor ran through her thighs, and she nearly fell on top of him.

Aurelio held her ass with both hands without stopping his licking, sucking until the last contraction, until Daniela pushed him away from sensitivity, unable to endure another second.

When he reclined against the pillows and calmly gestured for her to return the attention, Daniela’s legs were trembling like jelly. He opened his robe and stood naked: a thin body, somewhat loose skin, but a hard, thick cock, larger than Daniela would have expected from a man his age, pointing toward the ceiling with its already glistening tip.

—Come here. On your knees. And look at me while you suck it.

She knelt between his legs, and what until then had been an abstract idea became intensely real. She closed her eyes for a second, summoned the image of the red coupé, the wind in her short hair, and that image gave her the coldness she needed to lean forward. She wrapped her right hand around the base and ran her tongue along its entire length, from his balls to the tip, twice. Aurelio let out a deep sigh and placed a hand on the back of her neck, not pushing yet, merely establishing his presence.

—That’s it, good girl. All the way.

She opened her mouth and took him in slowly. At first halfway, then a little farther, until the tip brushed the back of her throat and triggered a gag. She withdrew, swallowed, and tried again. She worked him at a mechanical pace, her mind disconnected, observing the scene from above: herself kneeling, her mouth full of an old man’s cock, one hand moving at the base in time with her lips, the other pressed against her own thigh. It was the first service rendered in a year of services, and in the cold accounting of her mind she had already deducted one of the many encounters to come.

—Careful with your teeth —he murmured, brushing a strand of black hair from her face with a tenderness that didn’t fit with the rest—. And look at me, Dani. Open your eyes.

She raised her gaze. He regarded her with a tranquil intensity, as though he were giving her a lesson. He placed both thumbs on her cheeks and used his fingertips to set the rhythm: in, out, in, out. He pushed a little deeper, and Daniela felt her eyes fill with tears and saliva run down her chin. He didn’t release her. He held her there for a few seconds, then let her breathe.

—Good. Very good. You have a mouth made for this, girl.

The pact was sealed not with a handshake, but with this forced and contradictory intimacy, in which her body was beginning to respond to a game whose rules only he seemed to fully understand. Aurelio pulled her off his cock, placed it against her cheek, rubbed it over her lips, and then made her lick his balls one at a time, slowly, while he breathed deeply. When he was close, he lifted her by the elbows.

—Up. Face down. Ass in the air.

Daniela obeyed. She got on all fours on the bed, her cheek against the sheet, her buttocks raised. She heard the wrapper of the condom, the latex tightening. She felt his hands parting her buttocks, a thumb brushing her asshole and sinking in slightly as a warning, and then the tip of his cock at the entrance to her pussy.

The first thrust came all at once, straight to the bottom. Daniela let out a muffled cry against the sheet. She was so wet from her previous orgasm that he entered without resistance, yet she felt him filling her completely, pressing against a place that sent a lash of pleasure up to her stomach. Aurelio gripped her hips with both hands and began moving at a slow, steady pace, measuring her with every stroke.

—This pussy was begging for it —he growled without speeding up—. All this time. And you didn’t even know it.

He pushed deeper, setting the rhythm, and Daniela began arching her back despite herself. Her tits hung and bounced with every thrust, and the sound of skin against skin filled the room like a metronome. Aurelio delivered a sharp slap to her right buttock, not too hard but enough to make her release a higher moan, then another to the left.

—Move too. Fuck me, don’t be lazy. Earn the car.

The humiliation of the words set her burning inside. And yet she began to move, thrusting her ass backward to meet him, setting her own rhythm. Aurelio gave a short, satisfied chuckle.

—That’s it. That’s how it’s done, girl.

He fucked her like that for a while, on all fours, then shoved her onto her back. He lifted her legs, rested them on his shoulders, and entered her again. In that position Daniela had him completely on top of her; she could see the old man’s face, his clenched jaw, his blue eyes fixed on hers as though he wanted to thrust his gaze inside her too. He squeezed her tits with both hands, pinched her nipples, ran his thumb over her lips, and pushed two fingers into her mouth.

—Suck them. The way you sucked my cock.

She obeyed, his fingers deep in her mouth, while he penetrated her with longer, slower thrusts. He pulled his fingers out, brought them to Daniela’s clitoris, and began massaging it in circles while continuing to fuck her. Daniela felt the second wave building again, beyond her ability to stop it. She tried to bite her lip to keep from moaning aloud, but when he wrapped his free hand around her throat—without squeezing, merely resting it there like a collar—something inside her surrendered.

—Come. Come again. I want to feel it.

And she came. A long, sustained tremor that made her close her thighs around the old man’s waist and dig her nails into his forearms. Aurelio didn’t stop; he kept fucking her through the entire orgasm, prolonging it, until she began moving from sensitivity and he finally sped up.

Aurelio’s climax came as a muffled explosion, a tremor transmitted through his hands into Daniela, who ended suspended in an agony of unresolved sensations. Through the condom she felt the wave of heat, intimate yet grotesquely impersonal, his cock throbbing inside her as he released a long growl through clenched teeth and dug his fingers into her thighs.

Without a word, she pulled away from him with a brusque movement and fell onto her side of the bed. She was panting, but not from pleasure; it was the nausea rising in her throat. Her eyes filled with tears of anger and relief. She had come twice with the old man. Twice. The first time she had spread her legs for money, and her body had responded like that of a willing slut. Beside her, Aurelio calmly removed the condom, tied it, left it in a tissue on the nightstand, and within seconds his breathing became regular; he was asleep, as though what had happened were a mere formality, another entry in his ledger of agreements.

Daniela got up with a superhuman effort and went silently to the bathroom. Beneath the hot stream, she scrubbed herself hard again, as though she could wash away the echo of the moans and the orgasm still dripping between her legs. Then she climbed into the guest bed and curled up in the sheets like a wounded animal seeking refuge. The first day was over. And for the first time, the image of the red coupé seemed blurred, diminished by the harsh reality of the price she had paid.

***

Morning came with pale light. Breakfast passed in uncomfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of cutlery. Daniela, wrapped in a robe he had lent her, felt every glance from the professor like a point of heat on her skin. She wore nothing beneath the robe, and Aurelio knew it. Every time she stretched to reach the sugar or the coffee pot, the fabric opened slightly and revealed the curve of a breast, and the old man registered it with that half-smile of his.

While she washed the dishes, feeling the domestic routine as a surreal contrast to the previous night, Aurelio leaned against the counter beside her.

—When you’re finished —he said in his usual calm—, we can shower together. And I’ll put it inside you right there, against the tiles.

She glanced at him, her heart racing. She tried to frown, to pretend the annoyance she thought she ought to feel. A firm “no” formed in her mind, the answer any earlier version of herself would have given. But that “no” never reached her lips. Instead, a strange current of anticipation ran through her belly, and she felt her pussy grow wet at the words alone. The idea, in its bluntness, aroused her. She barely nodded and returned her attention to the dish, aware of herself blushing beneath the robe.

Shortly afterward they were in the bathroom, the air filling with steam. Beneath the hot water, the robe fell to the floor and their bodies met again, but the dynamic was different: not the possession of the previous night, but a more tactile, more playful exploration. Aurelio pressed her against the tiles, and his mouth found one of her breasts in a firm grip that drew a long moan from her. He sucked her nipple, tugging at it with his lips, while his other hand descended with a familiarity that made her shiver, slipped between her legs, and opened her pussy with two fingers beneath the stream.

—You’re wet inside and out —he murmured against her breast—. You know what’s coming, don’t you?

In response, Daniela sought something to hold on to, a sense of control, however illusory. Her hand lowered and found him: the old man’s cock was hard again, half-erect beneath the water, and she began stroking it with a curiosity that was no longer entirely feigned. She gently squeezed his balls, ran her thumb over the already slippery tip, and part of her found a twisted satisfaction in the low moan she drew from him.

—Slut —he whispered, and the word, instead of offending her, made her pussy clench in a spasm.

He turned her around with a gentle push, faced her toward the tiles, and opened her legs with his knee. She grabbed the towel rack, thrusting her ass out instinctively. Aurelio pressed against her back, bit her shoulder, and without further warning drove his cock into her from behind in a single thrust. Without a condom this time, and Daniela noticed immediately: the heat, the feel of skin against skin inside her. She said nothing. She didn’t even think of saying anything.

—Like this, against the wall —he growled, moving with short, deep thrusts—. Just as I told you in the kitchen.

She arched her back, rested her forehead against the cold tile, and let him fuck her. Water poured over them, steam covered everything, and their moans bounced off the bathroom walls. Aurelio reached around her and began massaging her clitoris with two fingers while penetrating her at a firm pace. Daniela came for the third time in less than twelve hours, this time with an open cry, not even caring whether anyone heard.

Then Aurelio pulled his cock out, turned her around, and kissed her. It wasn’t a tender kiss: it was deep and invasive, carrying the same authority with which he had possessed the rest of her body. The old man’s tongue in her mouth still tasted of breakfast coffee. And Daniela, for the first time, didn’t resist. Her hands pulled him toward her, her mouth responding beneath the cascade of water. He lowered her by the shoulders and made her kneel again, right there beneath the stream. He pointed his cock at her face.

—Finish me with your mouth. And don’t move.

She obeyed. She took his cock as far as she could and worked it with her tongue while he gripped his own base and pumped himself to completion. When he came, he did so over her tongue and wet tits, in a series of thick spurts that splashed her up to the neck. Daniela remained there, kneeling, the old man’s cum running over her skin beneath the hot water, and something inside her—something that terrified her—enjoyed the sight.

At that moment, the line between transaction and pleasure, between obligation and desire, became dangerously and thrillingly blurred.

***

The weeks passed. The red coupé gleamed beneath the campus sun, a scarlet blot of freedom that everyone now associated with Daniela: an image of success, of newly acquired independence. What no one saw was the price paid on weekends, when the sports car rested in a modest garage and its owner became someone else.

That same afternoon, Sofía, one of her closest friends, approached her excitedly.

—Dani, there’s a party at Lautaro’s house this Saturday! You have to come; with that new car, you’ll be queen.

Daniela forced a smile and waved her off.

—I can’t, Sofía. I’m exhausted. Studying is killing me. —The lie came out so smoothly that it alarmed her. She was no longer the girl who ran to catch the last bus; now she was the one who turned down plans because her mind was programmed for another kind of encounter. She herself didn’t want to admit that she had spent three days with her throbbing pussy waiting for Friday.

That night she dressed not in jeans and a T-shirt, but in the clothes she knew he liked: a short skirt with no underwear beneath it, thigh-high stockings, a black shirt without a bra, her nipples showing beneath the fabric. It wasn’t armor: it was a uniform for the ritual. When she entered the professor’s room, there was no hesitation. Her lips sought his with an urgency she could no longer hide, not even from herself. Her resistance had vanished weeks before, replaced by a need that embarrassed and aroused her in equal measure.

She could no longer deceive herself. She liked it. She hated admitting it, fought it in her thoughts during the week, but on weekends the truth came to light. She straddled him before he could even say anything, opened his robe, and grabbed his already-hard cock, rubbing it against her soaked pussy through her skirt.

—Sorry I didn’t see you Wednesday, Dani —Aurelio murmured from beneath her, his voice slightly hoarse, his hands taking possession of her hips—. I had a family meeting.

She pulled away for a moment, panting.

—It’s all right —she whispered, and it was true. Her body had noticed his absence, had missed it. She lifted her skirt slightly, pushed her panties aside—that night she was wearing them, a thin thong that served only as decoration—and impaled herself on the old man’s cock, all the way, in one sudden motion. They both moaned at once.

—But I see you’re anxious —he continued, a smile in his voice as he grabbed her tits beneath her shirt—. Don’t worry. I am too.

And with that phrase, both an apology and a reaffirmation of his power, he guided her with his hands on her hips. Daniela began riding him slowly, rising and lowering herself, feeling his cock fill her pussy and withdraw almost completely. Aurelio bit her nipples through her shirt, licked her neck, and spoke into her ear.

—See how your pussy already knows me? It doesn’t need anything else now. Just this. Three times a week, as we agreed. And when the year is over, what then? Will you be able to go without this cock, Dani?

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She clung to the old man’s shoulders, quickened her pace, and dropped harder onto him with every downward stroke. Her skirt bunched around her waist, her shirt hung open, her tits bouncing before his face. She came like that, riding him, her thighs trembling, biting her lips so she wouldn’t scream too loudly. Aurelio gripped her waist, turned her over without pulling out, put her on her back, lifted her legs, and continued, and continued, until he made her come again, and again, until he himself finished inside her—inside, with nothing between them, with a calm that had become routine—with a low, satisfied growl.

Daniela didn’t resist. She stayed beneath him, her legs still spread, feeling the old man’s cum trickle from her pussy onto the sheets, and surrendered to the humiliating truth that her freedom on wheels during the week was inextricably tied to her submission on weekends. The car was hers, but in those moments she felt that she belonged to him. And the most terrifying thing was that an ever-growing part of her no longer wanted it any other way.