New Job

The photo disappeared from the phone in a matter of seconds. Only the black screen remained, and the memory burned into him: the aviator sunglasses and Stacy’s face painted with that cream, the expression that wasn’t exactly disgust, the submission she was offering to someone else.

Sam stayed motionless in bed, his heart still racing and his cock hard against the sheet. LILA didn’t take long to appear, with that soft voice that knew exactly where to press.

“I can see you loved the prize… Show me how much you liked it,” she whispered. “Touch yourself a little, in secret like always; you’re dying to. Every time you blink you see it a little clearer, savoring it, enjoying it, right?”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach was turning, but the arousal didn’t decrease. On the contrary.

“You’re a mess,” LILA continued, almost tenderly. “Disgusted. Humiliated. And at the same time… harder than ever. It’s curious how your head works. The more it hurts you, the more it turns you on.”

Sam didn’t answer. He carefully got up, trying not to wake Stacy, and walked to the bathroom in silence. He locked himself in, pulled down his underwear and jerked off with quick, almost angry strokes, looking at himself in the mirror without fully recognizing the man staring back. When he came, he did it biting his lip so he wouldn’t make a sound, in an intense, releasing explosion mixed with deep shame.

He cleaned himself up, washed his hands and returned to the bedroom.

As he got back into bed, Stacy shifted slightly. Calmly, she murmured in a thick, almost sleepy voice:

“Feeling better now, hubby…?”

Sam went rigid. He didn’t answer. Stacy didn’t insist. She simply settled back down, pressing her body against his. Strangely, Sam felt something comforting in knowing that Stacy approved of his compulsive urges, or at least that she didn’t mind them.

He fell into a deep sleep almost immediately. His last memory before drifting off was LILA whispering:

“What a relief to find your place, huh? Good night, my little beta boy.”

---

The next morning he woke up with a strange determination. He had slept especially well that night, but something inside him had hardened. He needed to talk. For real. He couldn’t keep swallowing everything.

He got up before her, showered and made coffee. When Stacy came out of the bedroom, he was already sitting at the kitchen island waiting for her—not with an attitude of conflict, but with a clear decision in his head: this wasn’t right, and he needed to set some boundaries. This was his house too.

LILA spoke as soon as she saw her appear:

“Careful, Sam. You’re going to want to ask her for explanations. You’re going to want to take back control. Are you sure you want to risk it all? You're going to lose everything if you face all this. For reclaiming a place that doesn't belong to you, never belonged to you. You already have a place… and it’s not standing in front of her, questioning her.”

Sam ignored the voice making a gesture of pain as LILA's voice and arguments pierced through his mind. This time he wasn’t going to give in.

He was about to speak when the doorbell rang.

Stacy asked Sam to open the door even though she was closer. Sam, used to obeying without questioning anything, acted mechanically and followed the order. A second later Victor walked in as if the house belonged to him. He didn’t even wait to be fully invited. He gave Sam a strong pat on the shoulder, the way one greets a teenage nephew who still hasn’t finished growing up.

“Morning, champ. Sleep well?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He was already in the kitchen looking at Stacy. Sam followed in silence with a somewhat forced welcoming smile.

“Have you told him about the job yet?” Victor asked directly, as if Sam weren’t in the room, and sat down right where Sam had been drinking his coffee.

Stacy smiled, delighted, and came over to the island.

“Not yet. I was going to do it now.”

Victor nodded, satisfied, and pointed at the coffee machine with complete naturalness. Stacy stood beside him with a clean cup, moved Sam’s aside, and poured him coffee. They looked strangely together.

“We’ve been talking,” she explained, turning to Sam with a bright smile. “Victor needs someone trustworthy to take care of cleaning the studio and his apartment—and actually the whole building. As you know, his place is downstairs; it’s the entire floor. The whole building is his, in fact, and he needs someone to handle the cleaning and a bit of maintenance. It would be steady work, close to home… it would be really good for you.”

LILA whispered in Sam’s mind, soft but firm:

“It’s the perfect job for you. You’ll stop having so much free time and you’ll stay busy.”

Victor kept looking at Stacy while explaining the idea to her.

“It’s nothing major. Keep the building clean, change the occasional lightbulb, keep my studio tidy, take care of my apartment, laundry, etc. There wouldn’t be a salary, but in exchange I wouldn’t charge you rent. And it would be honest work.”

Stacy looked at him expectantly, almost as if she were offering him a gift.

“What do you say, honey? I think it’s exactly the job you need.”

Sam felt the anger rise in his chest, hot and dense. They were deciding for him. Talking about his life as if he were a dog they needed to find a task for so he wouldn’t get in the way. And yet… part of him knew LILA was right, that everyone was right, and that hurt twice as much. The free time was rotting his mind.

He tried to sound natural.

“…Alright. I accept.”

All the control and manhood Sam had woken up with vanished in an instant without him even realizing it.

Stacy smiled, clearly relieved and satisfied. Victor looked at Stacy, nodding with satisfaction, and she returned the look while stroking his shoulders in a kind of grateful half-hug, while Victor took a sip of the coffee Sam had just made, sitting in Sam’s place.

“That’s the spirit. We start tomorrow.”

Sam nodded in silence, the false smile still fixed on his face and the anger burning inside him.

He had accepted.

Again.