The Light at the End of the tunnel

[AJoeOfSubjectiveQuality]

(Please be tolerant about the pictures: I have the artistic talent of a pile of lichen and need to use AI. I'm lucky if I can get it to create humans with the proper number of limbs.)

The girl sat on the cold steel railing of the Hanover Harbor bridge staring at the mist-shrouded river far below. The city felt still this early in the morning. Occasionally, a car drove past her, but the drivers either didn't see her or didn't care enough to slow down. Probably the latter, Mya thought.

She shivered in the cool air, but didn't bother to zip up her jacket. It doesn't really matter anymore, she thought. Her tights and leotard provided almost no warmth for her thin frame at all; the torn strap over her left shoulder barely held together even with the safety pin she hastily applied earlier as she fled from the theater. She had warmer, better clothes in the small duffel on the walkway behind her, but she didn't care enough to want to climb down and find a place to change. Maybe someone would find them and have a good use for them, she thought as tears preceded her down to the inky waters below.

Just as she felt like she'd finally found the will to push off, Mya suddenly became aware of a strange scent. Earthiness, with a touch of vanilla and cedar wood. A thin stream of smoke rolled past her. But unlike the foul cigarette stench she'd grown up with, it smelled comforting. Welcoming.

She looked to her right and nearly fell from being startled. About twenty feet away, a man smoking a huge cigar was leaning against the railing, staring out over the river. She thought he was pretty tall, but kind of heavyset. Looking closer though, she realized he was built like a powerlifter who'd stopped lifting years ago and was letting himself go. He was dressed in a leather jacket of some kind and had a hat like her great-grandfather wore in the pictures she'd seen of him. "Why ... why are you standing there?" she stammered. Way to go, Ms. Rizz! her inner voice chided.

"I saw you sitting there," he called back. He didn't shout, but his voice carried clearly as if he was only an arm's length away from her. "It suddenly felt like a good time and a good place to think some deep thoughts, maybe reflect on the past and look at the future."

Mya blinked at that, like he was speaking a foreign language that she should know but didn't. "But why there?"

He took a big pull from his cigar, and let the smoke go from his nostrils. "Well, I figured that if I ran up on you I might scare you into doing something that you can't come back from." He took the cigar from his mouth and stared at the coal. "Life's like a candle that can't be relit. If you're not careful with it, you lose the light forever and the world is just a bit darker for it."

For some reason that put her back up. "What do you know about darkness?" she scoffed.

He turned to look at her for a long minute. Just an hour ago, that would have made her skin crawl. But here, now, she didn't feel like she was being leered at but some old perv. She felt like, rather than being looked at, she was being seen. It felt oddly good. "I suppose that a young woman with torn clothes and streaked mascara has the right to ask that," he finally said.

He probably wants to get some himself, her inner voice warned. And then it turned cold. Why not give it to him? It's not like a worthless piece of shit like ...

"Hush you!" the man called out sternly. "We'll have none of that now!"

Mya blinked in surprise. "You can hear ...?"

"Sometimes you don't need to hear to know what's being said," he replied in a normal voice.

She was thoroughly confused now. "I don't understand any of this," Mya almost sobbed. She stared down at the river again, but now it didn't look welcoming at all. It looked cold, uncaring, and ready to swallow her and take her away.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart," he said, "but I'm going to reach into my pocket and show you something. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you or try to grab you." He spoke with the kind of soothing voice that someone might use to calm a stray dog that was scared and growling. Moving with exaggerated slowness, he pulled a small cylinder from the pocket of his jeans and held it under his chin. With a soft click, his face was suddenly lit up.

A flashlight, she realized. She looked at him closely now. He wasn't handsome, but not unattractive either. He had rugged features, a strong jaw, and eyes that held all the pain in the world. He does know about darkness, she thought.

"I had to fly across the country a few weeks ago," he said, "and a TSA guy laughed at me when I put this little flashlight into the tray. 'Who carries a flashlight in their pocket in broad daylight?' And I said to him, 'Let me ask and answer two questions. First, when do you need a flashlight the most? Answer: when it's dark and you can't see anything. Second, when's the worst time to look for a flashlight? Answer: when it's dark and you can't see anything."

Mya didn't know what that had to do with anything at all. But then, it made sense. Obvious sense, even. She turned away, looking out into the night. The mist was squelching the lights of the city, muffling the sounds of it, isolating her. Darkness taking her vision, making it easier for her to trip. To fall. She looked down again, then back at him. "My name is Cobb," he said.

"I'm Mya," she said. Then, almost whispering, "Can I borrow your light? I need it now."

Suddenly he was there, lifting her up as if she were a little girl again and placing her firmly onto the bridge deck. They stood for a long moment that way, his hands lightly on her hips. She collapsed into his arms and hugged him, head against his chest, and she could feel his warmth, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breathing. His arms were around her now, and she felt safe at last. "Of course you can, Mya," he said. "We all need someone to lend us some light sometimes."

[AJoeOfSubjectiveQuality]

Taking her by the hand, the man who said his name was Cobb led Mya toward the shore. Just yesterday, she mused, she'd never be doing this with some old guy she'd only just met a few minutes ago. But her desperate hopelessness combined with curiosity allowed her to put aside the fear that had been driven into her for her entire life. And ... it just felt right.

Onshore again, he led her to a small parking area where an old car was parked. That looks like something Grampy used to drive, she thought. It was an old sedan from the 70s but she couldn't place the make or model of it. It was white, and while not showroom pristine it was obviously lovingly maintained. A light on the roof simply read 'TAXI'. The beige interior was worn, but clean. It was a well-loved working car. The man and the car seemed like a perfect match for each other.

Mya was led to the passenger side, and Cobb opened the door for her. It was a kind of chivalry she'd seen in old movies but had never experienced for herself. Most people either were too self-centered to care to do something small and nice, or were afraid of a feminist explosion. But Cobb wore kindness and courtesy on his sleeve, and she felt like if someone would have called him out he just wouldn't have cared what they thought. He seemed more and more like a man who defined himself in the best way possible. "So," he asked when they were both inside, "where am I taking you?"

The young woman stared sheepishly down at her hands that were folded in her lap. "I don't have anywhere to go," she admitted. "I couldn't pay the rent anymore and my landlord threw my stuff on the street and it was all stolen. Well, except for the stuff in my bag that I took to the audition ..." She trailed off, her eyes brimming with tears. "Can you ... do you know of a homeless shelter or something?"

He gazed at her for a long moment before saying, "I have a place that's a bit better than a shelter. Would you like to spend some time with me before you move on? I promise that I won't do horrible things to you."

It felt like the setup to a cheap slasher movie in her head, but her head was astounded when her heart, spirit, and soul directed her to say, "Please? Take me there?"

Cobb turned the key, and the car roared to life. It settled down to a powerful purr, the sound of a great cat who was happy but ready to be savage in an instant. The heat and dashboard lights came on, banishing the cold and darkness with a warmth and a pleasant glow. A piano sonata began playing softly. Mya immediately recognized it as 'Moon River.' It brought back happy memories of herself as a little girl learning to play in and dance to it. She relaxed into the soft leather, closed her eyes, and let it take her away to sleep.

She jolted back to wakefulness at the sound of tapping on the glass next to her head. Cobb stood there, smiling at her. "Wake up, sleeping beauty," he said. "We're here." Mya flushed at the compliment as she unbuckled her seat belt. He opened the door and helped her out into a well-lit parking garage.

Cobb then did something again that she'd never seen or heard of in real life: he offered him his arm to hold. She stared at it for a moment or two, wondering if she'd died and gone to cliché land. But then she took it, and it felt ... right, somehow. They began to walk, and he measured his pace to match hers precisely. She felt the kind of satisfaction that a dancer who'd found a partner who synchs perfectly can feel.

Up a broad set of stairs, and they approached a set of glass doors with a doorman standing in front of them. With a slight bow to her, he opened one for them. "Madame," he said, "Mr. Devlin, welcome and welcome back to the Davenport Arms."

Mya's eyes widened as Cobb led her into an fashionable lobby paneled in dark woods and with gorgeous Chippendale furniture. "Wait," she asked in amazement, "you LIVE here?"

Smiling, Cobb shook his head. "Nope," he replied, "I'm way too frugal for that. But living small does mean that I have a bit put aside to give a treat to special people who deserve it once in a while."

"But I'm not special," Mya protested. Cobb turned to look her directly in her eyes. "Maybe that's why you deserve it," he said, "because too many people convinced you to accept that fallacy." His eyes spoke volumes; he truly meant what he said. The young woman wanted to swoon right then and there, because nobody had ever believed in her like this man that she'd met less than an hour ago did.

But she managed to keep her feet as they went to an elevator. Inside, a young red-haired woman in an old-fashioned uniform greeted them. "Cobb!" she squealed in delight. "You're back!"

"Hello, Jilly-me-love," he replied with a smile. "I can never stay away from you for too long."

Mya felt a sudden flash of jealously, but that quickly faded when Jill the elevator girl looked at her. "Still finding every sexy young thing in town, I see. Are you going to introduce us?"

"Of course," he said. "Mya, this is Jill. Jill, Mya."

"Oh my God, that's such a pretty name!" Jill exclaimed, leaping up from her seat to embrace the dancer. "And you're so beautiful! I'd be so jealous except that Cobb taught me better!"

Jealous?, Mya thoughts swam, Of me? But she's the gorgeous and sexy one! Not me. Jill's head moved into the curve of her neck, and her full breasts pressed against Mya's more petite ones. She's smelling me! Like ... she likes me? Mya had never really felt for women before, but it didn't feel badly.

Jill freed the stunned dancer and sat back at her seat, bringing the lift to life. "Fourteen?", she asked Cobb.

"Of course," he smiled at her. Mya was confused as hell now, not understanding what was happening or what she was feeling. But the one things she did know: she had nothing to fear now.

After a few minutes of weirdly poignant silence, the doors slid open. "And here we are," Jill smiled at them. "Paradise awaits!" She then turned to look Mya in the eyes. "I'll bet this seems pretty odd to you, Mya. But if I can give you some advice, it's this. Trust that we know your value even if you don't, and if you can give the trust back you'll not regret it." Jill looked her up and down, measuringly. "I'll bring you something better to wear tomorrow night."

Mya flushed again and merely said, "Thank you." She allowed herself to be led down the hall to a set of double doors, which Cobb opened with a large brass key.

The room was unlike anything she'd ever seen in a hotel before. The furniture was not unlike those pieces in the lobby, but looked like they'd been crafted from blonde woods and merged with some kind of futuristic designs. It wasn't a suite as much as a giant studio, with only a single door presumably hiding a toilet as a nod to modesty. To one side was a marble-clad bathing area, a large tub, a glass-walled shower, and a hot tub. All sized for at least four adults. Off to another was the biggest bed that she'd ever seen. Maybe a California King? she thought, along with several wardrobes and dressers. And at the far end was a balcony overlooking the riverfront.

She stepped back and faced him squarely; this was getting to be too much. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked.

Cobb nonchalantly hung his cap on a coat rack before facing her. "Because I found a young woman who's life was so terrible that she felt it was worth ending," he said. "If that's what you really want, there's nothing stopping you from walking out now. But I'd regret that forever, dearest. Let Old Mya go, and let me help you find New Mya. Please?"

Mya suddenly felt ... like she was at a crossroad, and some powerful force was waiting for her to choose. He was right; she was going to end it all tonight. But now some anachronistic old guy was offering to help her find a new path. But a feeling that she hadn't felt in a long time now stirred in her breast: Hope. "But why me?"

"Because you're worth it," he answered simply.

WORTH IT?!?!, the voice inside suddenly screamed. Do you think he knows you?!? Do you think he'd want to help you if he knew what you'd done??? Do you think that anyone cares or loves you enough to want to help you do anything for yourself???

"Yes," Cobb said, "yes, and yes."

Mya closed her eyes for a long moment. She was completely confused, but all she knew was that nothing could be worse than what lie behind her. She opened her eyes and looked directly into his deep brown ones. "Take me," she said, "help me. Please?"

In response, the old man started undressing. For a moment, Mya thought she'd found just another abuser. But something was different this time. It felt more like he was baring himself so that she'd feel like he had nothing to hide instead of wanting to fuck her. It was weirdly novel, but somehow comforting.

Cobb wasn't sexy by any stretch of the imagination. Her first instinct was right; he clearly had been a powerful man once, but the fat of old age had caught up to him. Not much; he still had proper pecs instead of man boobs and his beer belly wasn't ginormous like some old men that she knew. He wasn't hairy like an ape, but had what she felt was the proper amount of body hair, gray to match that on his head. Of course she stared at his cock when he dropped his trousers, and he was ... average. No porn star fantasies for her.

Finally, he was nude. Cobb held out his hands to her. "Come to me, Mya." She went to him without hesitation, and he embraced her deeply while planting a kiss on her head. "Thank you for believing in me," he said.

He helped her sit on the bed, and then sat her on the edge. Kneeling before her, he carefully removed her shoes one at a time and placed them aside. Taking her legs, he began to massage her feet which she realized were aching pretty badly. His touch was glorious, and she leaned back on her elbows and closed her eyes to relax and enjoy. "You like feet?" she idly asked.

"Like a fetish?," he asked. "No. Not more than I like every other part of you, Mya. But a person's feet have a lot of nerve endings, and with the proper touch and attitude you can go a long way to helping someone change their mood for the better."

After a while, he sat on the bed next to her and slowly reached for the safety pin holding the torn leotard strap together. With a quick, deft move it yielded to his fingers and he placed it on the nightstand. Gazing lovingly into her eyes, he slid the jacket from her slim shoulders and set it aside.

They both looked down as he slip the intact strap from her shoulder, and she moved her arm through it automatically. Grasping the other one, he slid her leotard down to her waist. Mya's pert nipples, freed now, swelled under his gaze. "Pretty," he said, simply. Cobb leaned down and placed a soft kiss on one, and then the other. Mya began to feel warm inside, and pleased. This was not something she's ever felt before.

He slid the leotard down, and Mya lifted her hips first to get it off of her, and again as her tights came over her hips and down her legs revealing a cute little brown landing strip at the base of her belly. She mused that the only good outcome of the audition this evening was that she'd shaved and trimmed earlier, and she now felt as sexy as the girl Jill thought she was earlier.

Cobb reached down, and effortlessly lifted Mya to her feet. He led her to the tub, which she now realized was filled with steamy water. It looked and smelled as if he'd used a bath bomb; cinnamon spice, one of her favorites. She had no idea when and how he'd done this, but she was beyond questioning as he helped her into the fragrant water.

Kneeling outside, Cobb washed her tenderly like a mother would her baby. His strong fingers massaged her scalp as he worked the shampoo through her hair. This has to be a dream, Mya thought, but if so it's definitely the best dream I've ever had.

[Mod Note: Section 18 Violating Content Removed]

Edited 6 hours ago by Tema
Terms of Service Compliance

[AJoeOfSubjectiveQuality]

{Warning to the reader - there is a somewhat descriptive scene of sexual abuse below. I will try to use standard spoiler tags to hide it, but if that doesn't work you can just scroll past the bits between the horizontal lines.}

 

Mya woke. Not abruptly, as was her wont, but gently. As if she'd been swimming in deep water and just stilled herself, rolling onto her back and letting her natural buoyancy waft her up to the air and the sunshine.

But she wasn't swimming, and there was no sunshine. It was still nighttime in what appeared to be a room in a very expensive hotel. And she'd been sleeping with an older man, her arm and left leg thrown over his gray-maned torso, and her head nestled into the crook of his left arm.

Memory returned swiftly. She remembered the man (Cobb. His name is Cobb.) helping her from her bath and drying her off thoroughly with a fluffy white bath sheet. Then, he led her to the table just as there was a knock on the door. After courteously holding her chair for her, Cobb went to and opened the door, still naked. "Hello Mr. Devlin," she heard a man's voice say, "your order. And the chef's compliments."

"Thank you, David," Cobb replied, ushering a trolley into the room. "I'll leave something for you when I check out, since you can see that I don't have my wallet handy."

"Of course, Cobb," the voice of David replied. "Whomever you've got in there, please give them my warmest regards and wishes that they find peace soonest please?"

"Her name is Mya," Cobb replied, "and I'm sure she heard you and appreciates your thoughtfulness. Carry on, lad."

Dinner was served. At some point Cobb had ordered a Quiche Lorraine, paired with a crispy arugula salad dressed with a bright berry vinaigrette dressing and a nice Pinot Noir. She'd eaten like a starving lioness, and when the bath sheet fell away Mya just ignored it and kept eating, as if nude supper was a comfortable and happy habit for her. When she was finished, she could barely keep her eyes open and Cobb carried her to bed and tucked her in like she was a little girl again.

Obviously at some point one or both of them had kicked the sheets off because they were both bare to the world. A sense of panic hit her then, and she quickly mentally polled her body bits for any indication that something untoward had happened. But ... nothing. She felt better and more rested than she had in a long time.

Finally, she looked up at him to see Cobb gently smiling down at her. "Good morning, sleeping beauty," he said.

Mya blinked and blushed at the complement. "Good morning, Cobb," she answered. The she sheepishly asked, "Did we ...?"

"Of course not," Cobb cut her off. "I don't take advantage like that. When I take lovers, it's with their full consent and enthusiastic participation."

Lovers plural, she thought. Then she remembered the elevator operator Jill and the waiter David from last night (today, still?); obviously she wasn't the first person he'd brought to this room. But just as she was about to tag him as an old lecher, she remembered things they'd both said; their kindness, and their spoken and unspoken wishes for her to find healing. Maybe lovers isn't the right term, she reconsidered. Maybe lost souls, plural. And maybe they were enthusiastic.

A small voice, new to her, suddenly chimed in, Maybe we'll be, too. Mya blushed at this, and knowing that Cobb had some kind of magical power to hear her thoughts searched his face to see if he'd heard that, too. But if he had, he showed not indication of it.

She was surprised that the idea wasn't at all unappealing to her. From all that she'd seen so far, she figured that he would be a kind and considerate lover. And just from the few small ways he'd touched her so far, she was confident that he'd be more skilled than most girls would judge him at first glance. But after last night, did she really want sex anymore?

He either heard her thoughts again, or her face had changed, because Cobb's expression suddenly went from open and happy to concerned. Like he'd looked at her on the bridge. "Mya," he said, gently. "I'm here for you if you need to let something out. And I'm not going to judge you. Well, unless you like fricasseed kittens for lunch, or something horrible like that; then maybe I'll be a bit judgmental."

This brought a quick giggle to her lips, but even as her shoulders began to hitch to let it out she found herself suddenly fighting back tears. She turned away, unable to speak or even look at him in the moment. After a moment, she felt the bed move, felt him move. And then he was lifting her as if she were a small child instead of a grown woman, turning her. She opened her eyes wide to see him sitting cross-legged on the bed and was lowering her into his lap. And she opened her legs to wrap around his waist as if straddling a near-stranger while naked was the most natural thing in the world. And suddenly Mya was pulling herself into the hug, trying to crush herself against him as he guided her head into his shoulder.

And at last, Mya felt safe enough to let out the flood of tears she'd be valiantly but futilely trying to hold back. Twenty-three years of bottled sadness and pain burst out of her in great, wracking sobs. And Cobb just held her close, his head to hers, and allowed her to get the tears out at last.

She didn't know how many hours he'd cared for her; it seemed like she'd never be finished with the tears. But finally they diminished to silent tears, and then ceased altogether. That's when she started to scent him; vanilla, sandalwood, and the musk of a vibrant and healthy man. She breathed him in, and it filled her with a kind of spiritual warmth and comfort. And  a bit of that warmth descended from her heart to her belly where it settled, glowing like an ember inside of her.

"Would you like to tell me about last night, Mya?", Cobb murmured into her hair. She hesitated, not wanting to relive the experience so soon. But deep inside, something was pushing the words into her throat like they were a poison that she needed to regurgitate. And maybe they were. She began to speak.

_________________________

[SPOILER]

Mya had auditioned for a musical that was going to open on the city's equivalent to Broadway; the prestigious theater district of the whole region. Actors and dancers who did well here frequently were invited to Hollywood or the real Broadway where they could truly shine and begin storied careers. She'd made both the first and second cuts, and now she was invited to a private audition to be a featured dancer. She was slowly going bankrupt working as a part-time waitress, so between naivety and desperation she leapt at the chance, completing oblivious to the bright red flags that were waving at her. If she were able to afford the trades, she may have reconsidered what she was about to do.

The theater was dark outside, but she'd found the performers' entrance unlocked and went inside as instructed. Three chairs were set on the stage. Two men were sitting there, flanking an empty chair which presumably belonged to a tall, voluptuous woman with blonde hair that was so pale that Mya mistook her for an albino at first. She was standing next to a table on which sat a boom box. "I am Ylva Hansen," she stated as Mya ascended the stage. "I am the writer, producer, and director of this show. These men are Pierre and Swanwyck; they are my associate producers.

"You know why you are here, girl. The role we are casting is for a temptress, a succubus who uses dance to ensnare men for her profit. Prepare yourself, and we'll talk while you are warming up."

Mya felt a bit uncomfortable being asked to change in front of men, but she was wearing her dance attire under her street clothes so it wasn't a terribly big deal. She'd stripped off her sweatshirt, pants, and street shoes, carefully packing them into her small duffel bag that she took to auditions. She placed it in the wings, placing her jacket on top to keep it from laying on the floor, and began her warm-ups. While she stretched, they took turns asking her questions: where she was from, what was her home life like, how she was making a living, where she lived; things like that. She wasn't really sure what some of those questions had to do with anything at all for the role, but she dutifully answered anyway.

Finally, she was ready. "This piece is long," Ylva told her, "so take some time to let the music sink in. You're going to improvise for us now; reach deep inside and seduce us, like your role requires. Give us your all, child; tonight will define your future." She pressed the Play button on the boom box, and took the empty chair.

Mya closed her eyes, and took Ms. Hansen's advice. The music was bluesy, but with a pronounced bass line that mimicked a heart beat. Instinctively, she knew that the tempo would increase at some point and kept that in the back of her mind.

Mya danced. Slowly at first, strutting a bit to make them aware of her, and then stretching to display her lithe body and flexibility. She remember seeing a video of the legendary Josephine Baker, and as the beat picked up she began to flavor her dance with the legend's style. The trio tried to show impassiveness, but even she could see the signs that she was making her point to them.

She ended in repose on the stage, head propped on an arm whilst the other lightly under cupped a breast, her legs in a figure four. Look at me, her body boldly proclaimed. Can you take me? Even she knew that she had nailed the landing on this one.

"Come over here, child," Ylva said. "Let us look at you and talk."

Mya rose and swayed over to them, still immersed in her role. "Elle est merveilleuse!" the man named as Pierre exclaimed. "Cette jeune fille est une danseuse merveilleuse!"

"She is, isn't she?" Ylva said. "She certainly channeled the spirit of what we want."

"Truly," Swanwyck replied. "What do you think about costuming, Ylva. Look, her nipples are as bold as yours are now."

Mya glanced down at herself. Her nipples were indeed making themselves known through her leotard. She had mixed feeling of both shame and pride, that she'd become the seductress so thoroughly. And she noticed that Ms. Hansen's nipples were indeed mirroring hers, making peaks in her silk blouse. Mya noticed now that she wasn't wearing a bra; one day she'd need to but that day hadn't arrived yet.

And both men had hands slowly drifting down towards their laps, pants also swelling. Mya's discomfort and hubris swelled with them. Suddenly, her breathing wasn't heavy from the exertion anymore.

"Oh, but we're going to do great things together Mya," Ylva's use of her name for the first time snapped Mya's attention back to her. "I knew it of you the first time I laid eyes on you, dear. In a crowd of poseurs, you were the one who could live the role." Hansen rose, walking to Mya's side. She took the girl's chin in her hand, gently turning Mya's head to face her. "Plenty of women climbed those stairs thinking that they were Josephine reborn; yes, I could see you bringing her back to life again tonight. They all tried and failed. You didn't. You're going to have the audience foaming at the mouth before intermission, Mya."

"Surely I'm not THAT good," Mya protested, feeling at least a little modesty was in order here. "I mean ..."

"Nonsense!" Ylva snapped back. "You're going to have many, many hands in trousers and panties Mya. They're going to all want you in their beds. Don't believe me? Look for yourself; the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. Or maybe in hand."

Mya didn't really understand what Ms. Hansen was getting at, but when she turned to look at the men she started. They both had their trousers open, and were idly stroking their erections. Mya wasn't a virgin; she'd had two boys before. One had ended in the backseat of his car, him nude and she in her panties, his cum all over her hand and her pussy aching, unfulfilled. The other found them both in her bed, and she'd indeed been filled but still unfulfilled; he came all over her face and breasts and then fled the scene. In the shower, she desperately tried for release with her hand but even that was denied her.

But she'd never seen a man brazenly display himself to her like that, let alone two at once. I did that? she thought in amazement. To both of them?!

"Do you see what you can do to man, Mya," Ylva breathily whispered into her ear. She was standing closely behind her now; Mya felt her big breasts pressing into her back, and her hands encircling her waist. "To me, as well, but that can wait for another time. Look at them, Mya. Look at how much you've turned them on. Do you like what you see, Mya? Why don't you go to them, and show them how a real woman can treat a man?" Mya felt herself being gently urged forward, while the men looked at her expectantly.

But sudden doubt hit her then. "I ... I don't ... I don't think that I'm ready for that, Ms. Hansen," she stammered, resisting the forward push. "I don't know ..."

"I'll tell you what you need to know, Mya," Ylva said, her voice suddenly hard and cold as ice. "There are two possible outcomes tonight, girl. One is that you flee out the door crying like a simpering little girl being made to eat her vegetables. You can go back to pouring coffee and cleaning messes in whatever greasy spoon that you came from, knowing that you'll never dance professionally again because I'll spread the word that you're a little prima donna bitch who's ego is far larger than her talent. Or ...," she paused dramatically, "you can kneel."

In the end, there was no choice at all: she knelt. Both men took turns shoving their cocks into her mouth, and sometimes both at once. She was face-fucked, made to gag, and had to lie and tell them that she loved it, that it turned her on. Hansen roughly pushed her leotard down to her waist, one strap tearing from the rough handling. Mya could feel her bare breasts pressing into her back as her hands took turns clumsily pinching Mya's nipples, or finding their way down to mash her clitoris.

Finally it was over. She lay on her side, weeping, their cum on her tongue and on her skin. The men didn't even look at her as they dressed and left, joking to each other about how fun it was to see virgins cry. "You can go home now, Mya," Hansen told her whilst buttoning her blouse up again. "Come back on Friday with a better attitude. And don't think that anyone will believe you, child; it's your word against three, and we made sure to leave no marks. Don't destroy a promising career just because you're afraid of a little harmless sex."

Mya grabbed her bag, and fled. While waiting for her train she washed up in the station's bathroom, standing in the filth while trying to scrub the filth from her skin and her mouth. She made a temporary patch to her leotard with a safety pin from the sewing kit she kept in the duffel. It would get her home, at least; oddly, she never thought to put her street clothes back on.

At her tenement, Mya saw a sad pile of her clothes, those that were too raggedy for even the desperate street thieves to take, and a table which had broken from being roughly tossed outside. A note was still taped to it. 'You had your chances, Mya,' it read, 'and you turned out to be a deadbeat. Go somewhere else: I've got expenses to pay.' Her ex-landlord didn't mince words. And everything she owned was gone; even the envelope that she'd taped to the bottom of a dresser drawer that held her life savings (and, ironically, her rent payment.)

It was too much. Mya wandered the dark streets, carrying all she had left in her duffel bag, until the bridge loomed ahead of her in the darkness. The river called out to her. "Come to me, Mya," it spoke to her, "and I'll ease your pain." It was an irresistible siren song which held her in thrall, broken only by a wisp of sweet-smelling smoke.

[/SPOILER]

_________________________

The tears came again, but they were different this time. They were cleansing tears; washing away the horrors that she'd endured just a few hours before. During her story, Cobb's hands had tightened several times. Not to harm, but as if they desperately wished to become fists. But through it all, he never pushed her away or stopped holding her close.

"Well," Mya finally whispered, "now you know. I'll get my things and go now. But thank you, Cobb, for listening and trying to be nice to me."

"Mya," he replied, "the only person who thinks that you ought to go in this room right now is you. I didn't hear the story of a bad person, or an evil person; I heard the story of a lost young woman who was manipulated, used, and discarded like trash. But you're not trash, Mya; you're just a human being who was pushed past her limit and couldn't go on anymore. And that's what people like me are for, to find you and lift you up and carry you until you're ready to move on sweetheart. You don't need a judge, Mya. You need what we all need: a good friend who will love and care for you when times are good; and do it a thousandfold harder when times are bad."

Mya turned her face up towards his in amazement; those weren't the words that she'd expected at all. He gazed into his eyes, and she could see genuine compassion and love for a fellow human being and a lost soul. But behind that, there was a terrible rage, enough to cower a hundred strong men, but she knew with absolute certainty that it wasn't going to be released at her. She actually felt a little sorry for the people she suspected that it would be. "Will you let me be that person, Mya?"

There was no longer any part of her that doubted him. "Yes, Cobb," she whispered. "Please?" She leaned back into his shoulder, crying some more. 

But maybe this time, there were a few happy tears among them.

 

[Mod Note: Section 18 Violating Content Removed]

 

Edited 6 hours ago by Tema
Terms of Service Compliance

[AJoeOfSubjectiveQuality]

[My apologies for the sudden shift in artwork style, but only one of the models in the provider I was using would do NSFW content and only with extreme body horror. To be honest, I like the new one much more.]

Finally, Mya's tears ceased. And for some unknown amount of time, Cobb seemed content to just hold her close, and she was content just to be held.

But after a while she started to become aware again of his scent, and now began to focus on it more and more. The vanilla and the sandalwood were pleasant, and gave her the good feeling of being in her grandmother's kitchen when she baked cupcakes. He obviously knew how to choose a cologne that suited him best. But it was the scent of HIM that was beginning to shine through. In both of her previous sexual encounters, Mya had never really had the opportunity to just stop and experience the boys she was with. Now, though, she was becoming aware of him in a way she'd never experienced before. She could feel the delicious warmth of him after the damp, cold night had drained her own, and the beat of his heart marching along with her own. And the touch of living flesh to living flesh; is this what she had missing hiding behind layers of clothing? His slow and steady breathing made his chest hairs tickle her skin.

Stifling a giggle, she shifted her body a bit and settled a little lower into his lap. And suddenly felt something pressing against her lower lips. Is that his ... ? she thought, her breath catching in her throat. Oh my God, this is so ... nice??

It was nice. His flaccid cock (That sounds so crass a word to use with Cobb. He deserves better.) felt like it belonged there. But just not quite right. She shifted her hips forward just a tiny bit just as he twisted his hips a little. He knows! she thought in brief panic, but then her pussy settled neatly onto his penis and her weight helped part her labia and bring him into a so much more intimate contact. Fuck it, I don't care if it's an accident or if he did it on purpose, it feels so damn good!

She moved her hips again. Just a tiny bit backwards, and then just a tiny bit forward. And then again. And again. Mya made a small noise deep in her throat, but this time she wasn't embarrassed at all at the thought of him hearing her.

And he obviously did hear her, because Cobb bent his neck and laid a small kiss on the top of her head. It was literally the most intimate and loving contact of her whole life. Her heart filled with joy at the same time the embers in her belly now began to burst into life.

Instinctively, she turned her head a bit and planted a small kiss on his shoulder. She was rewarded with another kiss to her head, but a little lower this time. And this time, she felt his penis starting to press more firmly against her body.

This is the second time tonight that I've made a man hard, Mya mused. But this time ... I'm glad for it! Her hips began to move, rubbing her soft places against the solid warmth of his body. I want this so much!

Mya tilted her head back to look at Cobb, an apology for her brazenness forming on her lips. But they were words never uttered as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Oddly though, his tongue wasn't trying to force its way into her mouth. Instead, he captured her gaze with his, inhaled, and just ... breathed.

Cobb's breath smelled of fresh spearmint. It was weird, but amazing. She parted her lips slightly, and this time he breathed again into her mouth. Mya's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She held it for a few longs seconds but then was forced to exhale.

And he took his breath into himself, never losing eye contact with her. His gaze was hypnotic; she wondered if the mouse felt this way when it looked into the eyes of a cobra. While she may have been a mouse, he was no threat to her. He felt like a warm and friendly bear, taking her small form into his paws and holding her close.

Cobb was watching, and when Mya was ready to take another breath he gave her his own again. This time, she gifted hers back to him with love.

And then something moved inside of her. Not like an alien parasite from a cheesy movie or anything physical, but something ... spiritual was the only word that made sense to her. Like a wave of warm coming from his hardness into her softness, traveling up her body into her heart, and then going into her breath and returning to him.

Her eyes widened, and she wanted to ask what that was, but his eyes merely smiled back at her and wordlessly encouraged her not to think but to just feel. And when he gave her his air again and she returned it, she felt the rush of warm energy again. It was like nothing she'd experienced before!

For a dozen heartbeats they breathed together, and now the heat in her belly was spreading lower. She could feel her sex softening, opening ... and she began to move her hips in earnest now. Not in wantonness, but as a woman suddenly understanding how to love like a woman. Her body began to lubricate their sensitive flesh, making it all the better. And with each thrust against each other, each breath exchanged, Mya felt something she'd never felt before. Is this ... lust? she asked herself.

But the small voice from before spoke again, this time with more assurance. No, Mya, it's passion.

Who are you?

I'm the Mya that never got to live, the small voice replied. I'm the Mya who was buried under endless tears and hurt. But now I want to live and love with you! Bring me, Mya!

But how?

Your body knows how. Your spirit knows how. Your soul knows how. Trust them, and let the old Mya go!

She did, and she did. Wordlessly, the young woman lifted and twisted her hips, and Cobb's hardness rose to her. And she descended again, with Cobb's penis nestling into her folds, finding her warmth, and filling her.

She gasped, as if the contact was electric. And maybe it was, in a more metaphysical sense. The energy and warmth in her heart, belly, and loins began to boil and rage like an angry sea in a hurricane.

Pushing on his thighs with her hands, she moved to kneel over him, and Cobb shifted to anchor her left leg with his own. She leaned back, finding her position, and then began to move and find her rhythm.

It felt like nothing had ever felt before; the hardness of her toys combined with the warmth of her fingers. And with a last shift of position, his erection was rubbing against that most sensitive of spots inside of her pussy.

Mya began to thrash against him, lifting up and crashing down, his hardness swelling to fill her. Her body gave him warmth and wetness, and he gave her hardness and living touch.

And still the fires in her raged and grew. She was nearly sobbing in frustration and anticipation now, moaning and grunting in the best and most pleasurable of effort. Cobb placed a hand on her hip to steady her, while the other crept upward and brushed her lips with strong fingers. Greedily, she took them into her mouth, caressing them with her tongue, letting her other place of warmth and wetness soak into them. She wanted to scream in frustration when he withdrew them.

But then, he reached down and lightly slid a finger along her button.

Mya threw her head back and screamed as a nuclear blast of pure pleasure erupted from her clitoris. It tore through her body like a tsunami of fire, crashing into the walls of her body and rebounding, again and again. She never knew how long she convulsed. Reality had faded in the face of the devastating chain of orgams.

But finally, it came to an end. Her arms collapsed, and she fell back against him. Mustering the last of her energy, she twisted and rolled. She gripped his hardness in a death grip with her sex just to make sure that he didn't leave her just yet. Mya grabbed his head, and pulled him into the deepest, most wonderful kiss that she'd ever given, and he responded with just as much enthusiasm. 

Finally, she was spent. Her head dropped to his chest as her breathing and heartbeat came back towards normal.

"Thank you," the Myas said, and then they drifted back to sleep.

 

[Mod Note: Section 18 Violating Content Removed]

 

Edited 6 hours ago by Tema
Terms of Service Compliance