cross-posted from: https://lemmynsfw.com/post/19421582

I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the stack of bills in front of me. The numbers blurred together, a dizzying cascade of red ink and overdue notices. My chest tightened as I flipped through them again, hoping—praying—that I’d misread something. But no, the totals were real. The debt was real. And it wasn’t going away on its own.

My hands trembled as I picked up my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I reached his name. James. My boyfriend. He always knew what to do, how to calm me down when things got overwhelming. But this… this was different. This wasn’t just a flat tire or a missed rent payment. This was a mountain I couldn’t climb alone.

“Hey,” he said when he answered, his voice warm and familiar. “Everything okay?”

“Can you come over?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Please. I need to talk to you.”

He didn’t ask questions. Just promised he’d be there soon. I paced around the small apartment, my mind racing with possibilities. Could I take out another loan? Try to negotiate with the creditors? Or… was I just prolonging the inevitable?

When James arrived, he found me sitting at the table, the papers spread out in front of me like a battlefield. His brow furrowed as he took in the scene, but he didn’t say anything. Just pulled out a chair and sat down across from me.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “I’m… I’m in trouble,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “With money. A lot of it.”

His expression softened, and he reached across the table to take my hand. “How bad is it?”

I hesitated, then pushed the stack of bills toward him. He scanned them quickly, his eyes widening as he absorbed the figures. When he looked back at me, there was concern—but also determination.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said firmly. “Together. There has to be a way.”

But there wasn’t. Not really. Not without selling everything we owned or taking out loans that would bury us even deeper. I could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to come up with solutions, but I already knew. We’d exhausted all the options we could think of.

And then… another idea struck me. One I hadn’t dared to consider until now.

“There is one thing,” I said slowly, my voice trembling. “But… it’s not easy.”

James frowned. “What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “The guy… the loan shark. He’s been calling me. Threatening me. But…” I trailed off, unable to meet his gaze.

“But what?” he pressed.

“He said… if I can’t pay, there are other ways to settle the debt.” I felt sick even saying it out loud. My cheeks burned with shame, and I wanted to crawl under the table and disappear.

James went completely still. “You’re not seriously considering that, are you?”

“I don’t have a choice!” I snapped, frustration bubbling over. “What else am I supposed to do? Let him ruin my life? Let him destroy everything?”

He stared at me, his jaw clenched, before finally speaking. “No. Absolutely not. There has to be another way.”

But there wasn’t. At least, none that wouldn’t take months or years, by which point my credit would be destroyed, and the interest would have ballooned beyond repair. I needed a solution now, and this… this was the only option I could stomach.

“Please,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. “Just… just let me do this. I can handle it. It’s not like it’s forever. Just… one time. And then it’s over.”

James didn’t respond right away. He looked torn, his forehead creased with worry. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “If this is what you want… if this is what you think is best… I won’t stop you. But I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

I nodded, grateful for his understanding even as guilt gnawed at me. “Thank you,” I said softly. “I promise, it’ll be quick. And then… then I’ll be free.”

---

The next day, I stood outside the dingy motel room, my heart pounding in my chest. The loan shark—a burly man with a permanent scowl—had given me the address and told me to be there at 3 p.m. sharp. I checked my watch: 2:58. Not early. Not late. Just… punctual.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately, revealing a man who looked exactly like I’d pictured: rough around the edges, with a menacing air about him. He stepped aside, gesturing for me to come in.

I hesitated, then entered the room. It was small, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of cigarettes and stale sweat. The loan shark closed the door behind me, locking it with a solid click that made my pulse race.

“So,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “You ready to settle your debt?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes,” I replied, my voice steadier than I expected. “But… there’s one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“It has to be anal,” I blurted out, my face hot with embarrassment. “That’s… that’s the only way I can do this.”

The loan shark smirked, clearly amused by my request. “Anal, huh? You sure about that?”

I nodded again, more firmly this time. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He studied me for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to call my bluff. Then he shrugged. “Fine by me. Whatever gets the job done.”

My stomach churned as he began to undress, his movements deliberate and slow. I averted my gaze, focusing instead on a crack in the wall, anything to avoid looking at him.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he said, his voice thick with impatience. “Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.”

I hesitated, my resolve faltering. But then I thought of the debt, the calls, the threats. I couldn’t go back now. Taking a deep breath, I did as he ordered, positioning myself on the bed.

The moment his hands touched my hips, a shiver ran down my spine. I bit my lip to stifle a whimper as he guided himself into position, his fingers probing roughly at my entrance.

“Relax,” he growled, pushing inside me.

I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut as pain radiated through me. It hurt—god, it hurt—but I forced myself to stay still, to endure it. This was my choice, after all. My burden to bear.

“Fuck,” he muttered, beginning to move. “You feel good, tight little thing.”

I clung to the edge of the bed, my nails digging into the sheets as he thrust harder, faster. Every movement sent waves of discomfort through me, but I didn’t resist. I couldn’t.

“Take it,” he commanded, his voice harsh. “Take it like a good girl.”

I shuddered, tears slipping down my cheeks as I obeyed. Take it. Take it. Take it.

And then, without warning, he groaned, his body stiffening as he came inside me. I felt the warmth spreading within me, a nauseating reminder of what I’d just done.

He withdrew slowly, leaving me gasping for air, my body trembling. “Good work,” he said, pulling on his pants. “Debt’s settled. Don’t call me again.”

As he left the room, I collapsed onto the bed, curling into a ball. The shame washed over me in waves, drowning me in humiliation. But it was done. It was over.

Now… now I just had to face James.

When I got back to our apartment, my legs felt like jelly. The weight of what I’d done still clung to me, a heavy shroud that made it hard to breathe. I slipped inside, the quiet hum of the air conditioner a stark contrast to the storm inside me. James was sitting on the couch, his laptop open but untouched. His eyes flicked up as I walked in, and for a moment, there was this silent understanding between us. He knew something had happened, though he didn’t ask. Not yet.

“Hey,” he said softly, closing the laptop and setting it aside. “How’d it go?”

I froze in the doorway, my hand still on the knob. The words caught in my throat, a lump of shame and relief that I couldn’t seem to swallow. “It’s… it’s done,” I managed to say, my voice trembling. “The debt… it’s settled.”

James’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he nodded. “Good. That’s good.” But his voice lacked its usual warmth, and I could see the tension in his jaw, the way he clenched and unclenched his fists on his lap.

I wandered into the kitchen, desperate for some kind of distraction. My hands shook as I poured myself a glass of water, the cool liquid sloshing over the rim and onto the counter. I stared at the puddle, unable to look at him. The truth sat between us like a third person in the room, heavy and undeniable.

“Are you okay?” he asked finally, his tone careful, measured.

I laughed, but it came out more like a sob. “No,” I admitted, setting the glass down with a clatter. “Not even close.”

He stood then, moving toward me with a deliberate slowness that made my chest tighten. When he reached me, he hesitated, his hands hovering just above my shoulders as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch me or not. Finally, he let them rest, light and tentative, like he was afraid I might break.

“Tell me,” he said simply.

And so I did. I told him everything. The deal, the pain, the way it felt like my body no longer belonged to me. I left nothing out, because I needed him to understand—needed someone to understand. As I spoke, his grip on my shoulders tightened, his nails digging lightly into my skin. When I finished, there was silence, thick and suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” he said after what felt like an eternity. His voice was low, raw, and I could feel the anger simmering beneath it. “I should’ve found another way.”

“There wasn’t another way,” I snapped, spinning to face him. Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to keep going. “You know that. We both know that.”

He bowed his head, his breath hitching once before he straightened. “You shouldn’t have had to do that,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

I wanted to argue, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I turned away, pacing the small space of the kitchen until my thoughts started to blur together. Finally, I stopped in front of the sink, staring out the window at the cityscape beyond. The lights flickered faintly, casting an eerie glow over the room.

“What now?” I asked quietly, my back still to him.

James didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Whatever you need.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if he saw it. My mind raced, trying to process everything that had happened. But before I could form another thought, my phone buzzed on the counter. I picked it up, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the text.

Debt cleared. Meet me at 10 PM. Same place.

My stomach dropped. It was from the same number as before, and the message carried the same cold, clinical tone. I stared at it, my fingers tightening around the phone until my knuckles turned white.

“What is it?” James asked, his voice sharp now.

“Another message,” I whispered, holding the device out to him. “From… from him.”

He took the phone, his eyebrows pulling together as he read the text. When he looked up at me, his expression was unreadable. “What does he want?”

I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. “He says the debt’s been paid. But… there’s more.” I hesitated, the words sticking in my throat. “He wants me to meet him again.”

James’s jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. “No,” he said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s not that simple,” I argued, my voice rising despite myself. “If he cleared the debt… if someone else paid it…”

“Then we find out who and figure this out,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “We don’t let him—or whoever—dictate what happens next.”

But I shook my head, tears welling up again. “James, I don’t have a choice. If I don’t go… what then? What if he comes after us? After you?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a long moment, he didn’t speak. When he did, his voice was softer, almost pleading. “Please, don’t do this. Let me handle it.”

I reached up, cupping his cheek with my hand. “I can’t let you risk yourself,” I said firmly. “I won’t. This is my mess, and I’ll clean it up.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch for a brief second before stepping back. “If you’re sure,” he said, his voice barely audible.

I nodded, though the resolve I felt was paper-thin. My hands trembled as I opened the message again, rereading the words that filled me with dread. Meet me at 10 PM. Same place.

The clock on the microwave read 9:15. I had less than an hour.

---

The warehouse loomed large in the dark, its silhouette dominating the empty street. I pulled into the parking lot slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. The familiar stench of gasoline and rust hit my nostrils as I stepped out of the car, my feet crunching on the gravel.

Inside, the loan shark was already waiting, his broad frame silhouetted by the faint light spilling in from the windows. He turned as I entered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed me.

“Took you long enough,” he growled, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

I walked forward, my steps shaky but determined. “I came,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my insides. “Now tell me why.”

He smirked, stepping closer. “Someone else paid your debt,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “But he had conditions.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What conditions?”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper and thrusting it toward me. I took it hesitantly, unfolding it to reveal a single line of text:

She owes me one more. Use her mouth this time.

I stared at the note, my vision blurring as panic set in. “Who…?” I began, but the loan shark cut me off.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” he said coldly, his eyes locking onto mine. “Let’s get this over with.”

Before I could protest, he grabbed me by the arm, pulling me toward the back of the warehouse. MyStruggling futile, My limbs felt as if all strength had been drained from them. His grip was surprisingly strong, He pressed me down onto the chair he had prepared in advance.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice low and menacing.

I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat. But the realization of what was at stake—what had already been sacrificed—forced me to comply. Slowly, reluctantly, I obeyed.

He knelt in front of me, his rough hands gripping my chin roughly. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with condescension. And then, without warning, he pushed himself into my mouth, forcing me to take him in completely.