Megan's Coercion

Author's note: This story includes themes of coercion, reluctance, manipulation, alcohol use, and control.

*****

The girl approached him, eyes downcast. Megan wore a pair of torn, skin-tight jeans and no top. Her soft skin practically glowed with the kiss of summer sun, and a belly-button ring glittered enticingly, calling attention to her toned belly. She kept one arm crossed across her breasts in a doomed attempt at modesty, and walked as slowly as if going to her own execution. As she reached Rob a single tear fell from her cheek.

It was going to be an exquisite afternoon.

***

As recently as a few months ago Megan and Rob had spoken not a word. Rob lived on the same street, and was friendly with Megan's parents, but the girl refused to offer even the most elementary courtesies. If Rob happened to be working in his yard, on his car, or relaxing on his porch Megan would hurry by glued to her phone or would simply ignore him outright. At block parties she'd sulk off to be alone, or with a few select friends.

None of this was unique to Rob or terribly unusual for an eighteen year-old. But in Megan, Rob had immediately sensed alpha bitchiness in its purest form. Here was just the type of girl who evaluated boys strictly on how easily she could manipulate them. And she had all of the feminine tools needed for the job. Slim and leggy with a tight round butt, Megan always flaunted her legs either in short shorts, tight jeans, or leggings. Her breasts were of no more than average size, but her slimness accentuated them, and she had a talent for getting attention with a revealing top or torn tee shirt.

His neighbor's son had related a story to Rob. Erick was a year older than Megan. Last year, as he told the story, Megan had unexpectedly began to flirt with Erick toward the end of the year. She pouted that Erick had ignored her because she was 'only a junior'. Her feelings were really hurt, but if Erick would take her as his date to senior prom all would be forgiven. A few hints that the evening would turn out well were icing on the cake. Erick readily agreed, and went all out with flowers, a fine restaurant, even a limo. Walking through the doors with Megan he had felt on top of the world.

Rob remembered clearly how dejected Erick had been at the telling, how shamed. Once through the doors of the prom, Megan had excused herself to talk to a few of her friends, firmly explaining to Erick he need not follow. Confused, Erick let her go, but after some time tracked her down and asked her to dance. What happened next shocked him. The girl had turned on him angrily, screeching about what a creepy stalker he was and to fuck off. For good measure she had added "Get off me, loser!" Her friends giggled at the cruel trick, but several of Erick's classmates, and even one of the chaperones took notice and approached. His face burning, Erick had fled. Later, on social media Megan had posted photos of the flowers, the fancy restaurant, and the limo, but made no mention of Erick.

So to say that Rob was equally surprised and suspicious when Megan dropped by his house was an understatement. On a late spring Saturday morning Rob had finished mowing and edging and was relaxing on his porch. Megan was wearing a long skirt, and a demure blouse with only one button free. She clutched several textbooks, and had restrained her wavy blonde hair best she could in a ponytail. The effect was ridiculous, like she had performed an Internet search for 'serious school girl' and mimicked it. She stepped up onto Rob's porch.

"Good morning, Mr. McDonnell." she said, somewhat stiffly "How are you?"

Rob was dressed in grass-stained jeans and an ancient concert t-shirt soaked with sweat. "Good morning... Megan, is it?"

"Yes sir." she said. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"Please, have a seat Megan." said Rob, waving toward a wicker chair. "How can I help you?"

Megan seated herself carefully, smoothing her skirt and placing her textbooks with the spines facing Rob. Biochemistry and The Odyssey. "I understand you might be looking for a house sitter this summer."

So that's what it was. Rob had in fact mentioned to Megan's parents that he would be taking several lengthy business trips over the course of the summer. He had a substantial investment in new plantings and wanted them watered regularly. He also didn't like the idea of mail and newspapers piling up; that was an invitation to burglars.

"I am, yes. Are you looking for summer work?" Rob watched her skeptically. Her own father had, in a private conversation, confirmed that Megan was undisciplined and selfish. It was hard to imagine how such a girl could be trusted with even simple responsibilities.

"Oh, yes. I'm saving some money for college." Megan maintained a perky expression with a bland smile, her pale blue eyes wide and attentive.

"Well, I haven't decided for sure, but I can show you around if you like."

Rob gave Megan a brief tour of his home. She showed minimal interest in where to find the spigots and hoses, and even less as he explained how he sorted his mail. But her eyes went wide when she saw his living room with the sprawling leather sectional, loungers, and enormous television. If he wasn't mistaken, her eyes lingered longest on the well-stocked liquor cabinet.

"Your house is beautiful, Mr. McDonnell," she said, quickly following it up with "and your plants are lovely. If you'll excuse me, I really must get to the library. Finals are this week." And with that she was gone, walking primly to the street, then to the right. The library was to the left.

***

Home security systems had once made Rob a small fortune. He had long ago sold his interest in the company, but retained a state-of-the-art system in his own home. Now he watched from his phone while Megan began her afternoon ritual.

Coming through the front door she kicked his newspaper out of the way. The mailbox was overflowing, but she ignored it, dropping her book bag on the way in. Rob changed cameras to follow her progress into his home. No longer bothering with conservative dress, she wore torn jeans as tight as a second skin. On top she wore a loose sleeveless t-shirt with a deeply cut neckline.

As she had every other day this week, Megan headed straight to the liquor cabinet. Swiftly, she poured a large serving of bourbon into a bottle of soda she had brought with her, left the bottle on the cabinet and flopped onto the sofa. Within moments she was tearing open a bag of chips and watching a Hollywood gossip show. She sipped the drink greedily, and in less than fifteen minutes poured another.

Rob smirked, hopping from his car. His supposed ten day business trip to New York had in fact only been for one week. After watching her daily from his hotel, he now watched from just around the corner. The time was right. Pocketing his phone, Rob approached his front door, stealthily slipped in the key, and burst in.

Megan shrieked, flying upright. Rob looked around, feigning surprise at the scene, his eyes falling on the unkempt pile of mail and newspapers, the litter-strewn living room, the open liquor cabinet and finally, Megan. "What is going on here?"

"I... I...," the girl squirmed. "I was just about to..."

"About to what?" Beyond the necessary bit of play acting, Rob felt a touch of genuine anger as he saw in person the complete disrespect Megan had shown his home. "What are you drinking?"

Megan was still flustered, gaping at the drink in her hand as if seeing it for the first time. "It's... it's just a soda", she stammered. She was wearing a peace symbol necklace which now bounced between her breasts enticingly.

"With my liquor." he said, walking to inspect the bottle. It had been full when Rob left for his trip. Now, no more than an inch of spirit remained. Megan began to slink away. "You're drinking booze in my home! This place is a mess. Did you even water the plants?"

"I... I'm sorry." she stuttered. "I'm sorry. I'll just go." Megan snatched up her bag and turned toward the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Rob shouted. Her arrogance and stupidity were astounding. Did she really think she could abuse his trust, trash his house, drink his booze, and then just walk away? Incredible. "Stop!" he shouted again, even louder. Megan froze, but still stood facing the door.

"I'm so..." she started but Rob cut her off.

"Shut up!" he said. "Your drink, that bourbon you stole. That's top-shelf, and you fucking mixed it. Fuck!" Rob was having trouble controlling his anger. "Finish it."

"What?" she said, unsure if she'd heard correctly.

"I said that drink you just poured from a fifty-five dollar bottle of Kentucky bourbon. Finish it."

"Jesus, okay. Like it's some big deal." She stomped back to where she'd left her drink on the coffee table and in three deep swallows finished it. "Happy?" she asked, slamming it back down.

"No," said Rob flatly. "Call your mom. She needs to see this."

"What? No!"

"What yes." Rob mocked. The threat of parental intervention was taking some of the strength out of the righteous anger Megan had been working up to. "Your mom recommended you for this job. Call her."

The girl stared at him dumbly. The large arm holes cut in her t-shirt yielded frequent and tantalizing glimpses at the skimpy black bra beneath, and the deep cut down the front revealed plenty of smooth eighteen year-old flesh. Perhaps remembering these gifts, Megan switched to a new tactic. Pouting, she leaned forward over the edge of the couch. Her upper arms pressed inward, pushing her breasts together and up. She fixed Rob with her blue eyes.

"I'm really sorry Mr. McDonnell." All of bitchiness melted away from her voice, replaced by the same innocent sweetness she had demonstrated when she first asked to house sit. "I was just curious about alcohol. My parents won't let me try any. I'm sorry that I made a mess, but your house is just so nice. I felt at home, really comfortable. I'll come back tomorrow and pay you for the bourbon. And I'll clean." Megan's eyes were open wide, emploring.

Rob was fit, successful, and passably handsome for a man of forty-nine. He had no difficulty dating attractive women and bedded most of them. His married friends frequently joked that he was their hero. But, none of his conquests were eighteen. Only a teenager or a woman in her very early twenties could manage the seemingly impossible contradiction of softness and tightness at the same time. Only a young woman like Megan could be so lean and toned, but also so velvety soft to the touch. Women closer to Rob's age had either put on weight, or dieted and exercised fanatically until they became bony and hard. Megan was neither, just smooth female flesh, tempting and sweet. Rob could easily have succumbed to her unspoken promises, like Erick had.

Fortunately, with age comes wisdom. Rob knew from having watched her for the last week that she was no stranger to alcohol. He also knew that once she walked out the door she'd never return. "That's really sweet of you Megan, but I need you to do one thing before you leave. I need to show you something." With that, Rob turned and went toward the master bedroom.

Megan tagged along behind Rob, seemingly convinced that her charms would get her out of this situation. She watched as Rob rolled his suitcase to the bedroom, set it in the corner and opened his closet. She watched as he took off and hung his suit jacket, untied and hung his tie, partially unbuttoned his shirt, placed his phone on the nightstand, and took off his shoes. He flopped back on the bed, propping himself up with pillows.

"Take your top off."

The girl just stared at him.

Rob's earlier anger had faded, but neither was he smiling. "I said take your top off."

"I.. I can't. What?" Megan seemed to be showing the signs of having two strong drinks in less than half an hour.

"Megan, take your top off, then your bra." Rob explained patiently.

She shook her head. "I'll clean up... I'll pay you, I promise." She took half a step back, but had to steady herself against the door frame.

"Megan," he started again "You're drunk. You've stolen from me. You've done nothing I paid you to do. You've trashed my house." Rob let his words settle in. "You're not going to pay me anything. You're not going to come back to clean. You're going to take off your top and your bra. Now."

Megan eyed the door.

"I swear," Rob said "you walk through that door and I call your parents. I tell them what their stupid, drunk daughter did, and where she is." Rob rested a hand on his phone. "I don't know what plans you have for the summer, but I'm sure they're totally fucked if I make that call." He couldn't help but smirk.

For a long moment, Megan eyed him, looking for any sign he was bluffing. Finally, she dropped her gaze. "I'll just take it off, and then I'm done, right?"

"We aren't negotiating Megan. Top off."

The girl fumbled with the hem of her top, rolling the fabric between her fingers, hesitating. Rob watched, half expecting her to turn and run. Instead, to his pleasure, she suddenly pulled it upward and past her bra. It took her a moment to wrestle the flimsy cotton top past her thick hair, but she eventually tugged it free. She kept her eyes downturned.

"And the bra, like I told you."

Again, Megan hesitated, fumbling at the back clasp of the skimpy bra longer than seemed necessary. But just when Rob was about to warn her, she popped it free and let it drop to the floor. Propped comfortably at the head of his king bed, Rob enjoyed a brief glimpse of the girl's bare skin before she crossed her arms. Megan kept her eyes downturned. The submissive posture aroused Rob, and he felt his organ begin to swell. He decided to savor the moment.

"Get me a Scotch." he said. "Fifteen year. No, eighteen!" She stared at him blankly. "A fucking eighteen year Scotch you stupid bitch!" he roared. "No ice!" The girl fled.

While Megan rummaged the liquor cabinet Rob removed his suit pants and shirt and returned to bed. His swollen organ pushed its outline against his boxer briefs, straining against the elastic. When Megan reappeared with his drink, which she had poured into a wine glass, she stopped short.

Rob took a moment to admire her. With her right hand occupied with the drink, her left arm had to do double duty protecting her modesty. Her forearm squeezed her left breast, pushing the inviting flesh both up and down. With her left hand she cupped her right breast. The rest of her, from the hollow of her delicate neck to her toned belly was his to enjoy. Though it was still June, Megan had already found some time to tan. Her skin was warm, practically golden.

"My drink, Megan."

"Oh." she said, softly, and brought it to him. Rob found the the transition from bitch to submissive to be powerfully erotic. He cock felt like it would burst.

"Show me." he said.

Not for the first time, Megan seemed paralyzed with indecision. Or possibly fear. "Sh... show you...?" she trailed off, trying to look anywhere but at Rob's straining organ.

"Megan," Rob sighed "you must know what is going to happen here this afternoon. Now, I'm not going to ask you again. Show me."

"Please. I'll pay you. I have some money. Wait!" Before Rob could object she darted once again from the room. When she returned she held a crumpled handful of bills. She thrust them into Rob's hand.

Rob sipped the whiskey. Most evenings he preferred the fifteen year bottling, but this was a special occasion. He dropped the bills onto the night stand, separating them with his free hand. "Forty-seven dollars. Thank you." Rob hesitated, allowing Megan a flicker of hope. "That was almost enough for the bourbon. It doesn't come close to replacing my plants. Now, lower your arm for me."

The flicker of hope fled Megan's face. She stared at the ground, taking a breath which seemed to catch. Trying not to cry, she sniffed, then took another deep breath. She lowered her arm.

They were even nicer than Rod had hoped. Megan's breasts dropped heavily when released but bounced back. They were high and buoyant, needing no support. Her nipples pointed slightly outward.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"Good. Now come here and straddle me."

Mutely, Megan did as Rob requested. Doing her best to avoid touching, or even looking at Rob's swollen cock she threw one leg over him. Rob reached his right hand behind her, for the first time feeling her smooth, firm skin. He ran his hand down her back, hooked his thumb into the waistband of her jeans, and tugged her forward. The girl momentarily lost her balance, but he braced her with his left hand, which he then slipped around her breast. Her gave the tender flesh a firm squeeze before slipping his mouth over her nipple. Megan gasped.

Rob slid his lips over the girl's nipple, sucked, then released. He repeated, this time a bit harder. Then a third time, sucking harder still and lingering longer. When her breast popped free, she made a small involuntary sound. Switching sides, Rob explored her other breast, sometimes sucking hard, sometimes swirling his tongue around the nipple. All the while his arm on her lower back pulled her downward until her mound was pressed against Rob's straining organ.

Rob's cock ached for attention. Rolling to his left he lay Megan on her side and released his grip. Her breasts glistened with saliva. Knowing she would resist any verbal instruction, Rob simply grabbed her ankles and tugged her to the edge of the bed. The belt unfastened easily, and the zipper was cooperative, but as Rob moved to pull off her jeans Megan once again resisted.

"No." she said. "I don't want to do this. I want to go." She propped herself up on her arms, facing him. Her jeans were just past her hips, revealing black panties.

"Megan, I've told you, if you leave now I'll be forced to call..."

"No you won't, you asshole!" The girl was rallying; reverting back to bitchiness. "I'll tell them you made me get drunk, that you tried to rape me!"

Rob sighed. He stepped back, making a sweeping gesture toward the door of the bedroom. "You're free to go any time Megan. Of course. I'm not a rapist."

Megan jumped up, grasping at the top of her jeans and looking around for the rest of her clothes.

"I don't need to force you; you'll fuck me voluntarily."

Megan turned swiftly, ready to tear back into him, but stopped short. Rob was playing a video on his phone. She moved a step closer to see. It was a compilation. Her pouring his liquor and bolting it down. Then the same shot, but from the next day. And so on. One week's worth of her routinely and greedily getting herself drunk. In one segment she and her friend Ashleigh did shots and giggled. As she watched the video, Megan's posture slumped. By the time it ended her gaze had already turned downward.

"Want me to play it again?"

After what seemed like an eternity Megan finally found her voice. "What do you want"?

Rob pulled off his undershirt, then his boxer briefs. His organ swung forward proudly. Casually, he pulled back the sheets and stretched out on his bed.

"Jeans off."

As before Megan hesitated, the struggle within her plainly evident. But as before, the fear of punishment proved stronger than distaste over sharing her body. She resumed undressing.

Rob took another sip of whisky as he watched. Megan gripped the waist of her jeans and tugged them past her hips. The fit was skin tight, forcing her to wriggle her hips to get them free. She peeled the jeans off slowly, revealing lean legs, then stepped free of the crumpled material. Rob took a moment to admire the sight.

"Now what?" Megan couldn't bring herself to look at Rob, choosing instead to keep her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Come put that dirty mouth on my cock."

Like a sleepwalker, Megan shuffled toward the bed and crawled to Rob's midsection. She stared mutely at the engorged organ before her.