Done For Love

AUTHOR'S NOTE/CONTENT WARNING: Contains cheating/infidelity/cuckoldry/etc.. If that isn't your cup of tea, this series won't be either.

To all who have been able to stomach the corruption so far, thanks for reading!

===

It all started as a work crush.

When the end of her shift came, Irina would always lean back against the kitchen counter and look at him closing up the bar. He was a new guy, only a little younger than her, and he was, as freshies tended to, having trouble fitting in with the rest of the team. Most everyone who worked at Price's had been there for a year at least, even the wait staff. Pay was good for a college job, and Alec was a nice enough boss. Still, being smack dab in the middle of a college town, the clientele could be more than a bit iffy. You had to stick together to make it. The fact that they were all part of a tight-knit circle was what scared away all the new hires.

All the new hires, of course, except for Flin. He tried. He came in that tweed vest, cute as a button, and went right to work every day, fumbling around with the glasses as Kyle and Sasha suffered to show him the ropes. He was clumsy, and he couldn't carry a conversation for the life of him. He was, perhaps, the worst bartender she'd ever seen, and that intrigued her. This wasn't your average cafe -- it was basically a seedy bistro in all but name. How on Earth did he get hired?

Her coworkers were always mean about it. They gossiped, talked behind his back as tight-knit circles always did. As the weeks went on, they started placing bets on when he would finally leave. A bumbling new hire who knew their place, they could handle, but a bumbling new hire who stayed around? That was unforgivable.

Irina never participated in the flogging, but the atmosphere did keep her away from him, too. It made her feel terrible. After all, she and Laila had joined together this time last year, and they fit in right away. Laila...well, that girl could make a friend out of anyone, and it was safe to say she had enough "charm" to bring in the tips from admirers. Meanwhile, Irina's cooking was quick to make up for any social skills she lacked, and the men warmed up to her instantly anyway. She wanted to console Flin somehow, but she knew deep down she couldn't relate to him. For months, she just kept looking at him from the counter, silently making him free meals in the hopes that he would one day notice.

That was, until a snowy night a couple days before winter break. She was zoning out as usual when Laila's voice cut through her daydreaming. "When are you gonna make a goddamn move, girl?"

She straightened herself out, pretending she hadn't just been staring. Not that it mattered -- Laila always saw through her. "I don't wanna bother him."

"Psh." The busty college girl bent over the counter from the other side, not caring who saw. The few male customers that remained at some of the tables turned like moths to a lantern. "You should learn a little from Hal. You know, he confessed to me on a knee after our first real date like he was proposing. It was the cutest thing ever."

"Yeah, Idoknow. That's like, the tenth time you've told me."

"Well, if you want me to stop, why don't you just go over there and take your knee? It's about time you saw some action. He's not the most impressive guy, but I won't judge. We all start small."

Irina glared at her, but she just flipped her hair teasingly and went back to cleaning the empty tables. Figures that she only knew love by how many notches she could get on her bedpost.

Even so, her words did strike a cord. Maybe it really was time to do something. It wasn't often that she found a man cute. Sure, she wasn't all that confident when it came to things like this, but she just had a feeling about this one. She was fairly certain he'd say yes if she asked.

Just as she steeled her resolve, one of the kitchen staff called her out from behind.

"Yo, Irina!"

She stifled an annoyed scowl and turned to Kyle, who had just finished up closing the fryer. The head cook was the classic playboy type -- tall, thin, pretty face, and wavy locks. Kitchen dress code forbade loose clothing, but his kind knew nothing else, and unfortunately, the rules didn't apply much to those in charge.

He was also well into his 30's and had been trying to get in her pants since she started last year.

"You doing anything tonight?" he asked.

Noticing them from the salamander, Pavitr rang the alarm. "Ohoho, there it is! Kyle's at it again, y'all!"

The kitchen howled together in a fit of laughter. Irina smiled weakly but couldn't bring herself to join in. The rest of the kitchen staff knew his antics well and always made fun of him for it, but none of them knew how much it bothered her. They weren't all rude and vulgar like Kyle -- hell, most of them were good people -- but they were also men at the end of the day. They just couldn't understand.

Kyle ignored his kitchen's mockery with an eye roll and pressed on. "You look like something's on your mind. Wanna grab a drink with me before you head out?"

She concocted an excuse on the spot. "I...I'm sorry. I have to study. I've got a test tomorrow, and I procrastinated. Sorry..." she cringed as she apologized one too many times, but she wasn't about to just say "no" to this guy. Who knew how he would react then?

"Knock it off, Ky! It's never gonna happen!" Pavitr heckled on.

Kyle just kept on chugging along, drawing a bit closer to her. She tried to back up, but she was already right up against the counter. "Oh, it doesn't have to be long. And you walk to work, right? Come on, it's been a year, and we hardly know each other! I'll have Flin pour us a drink. You can have something clean."

"Uh...Kyle?"

The gentle voice barely broke from the bar in the quiet of closing. Irina didn't even register it until she, Kyle, and the rest of the staff had turned around to see Flin facing them sheepishly from the bar window -- she'd never even heard him speak beyond the occasional mumble.

"Sorry," he said. "I already locked up the cabinet like you told me to."

Kyle blinked, just as stunned to hear him mount any resistance as anyone else, before swatting his opinion aside. "That's alright, buddy. You can just reopen it."

Irina couldn't stop her scowl this time. This man was always mean to newbies, but

he was extra mean to Flin. He constantly belittled and insulted him with a smile on the job, especially when she was watching. Unfortunately, he'd picked up on the fact that she liked the shy guy, so he tried to emasculate him as much as possible. "Buddy" was his go-to nickname for him. He clearly got off on it, too, as if that was supposed to somehow turn her on.

But today, for some reason, Flin wasn't taking it. Maybe he was more chivalrous than she expected, or maybe he'd just gotten fed up. "I, uh, don't think she wants to drink with you, Kyle..."

The entire restaurant went dead silent. Irina used this chance to shimmy out from Kyle's pinning. His smile remained, but his eyes were fully distracted, filled with bloody murder at the insolent loser who still denied him.

Before he could lay into him, the kitchen burst into laughter again. The remaining customers and wait staff outside joined in.

By now, he was prime pickings for Pavitr. "Damn! You heard the big man, Ky! Time to pack it up!"

Being the whole building's new laughing stock, he had no choice but to finally relent. He threw a hand up and yanked a towel from one of the nearby oven handles, almost pouting as he went back to scrubbing his stations. Irina puffed a snicker as the guffawing died down, looking back through the bar window at Flin. He'd already returned to his closing duties as well, but even he had cracked a small grin.

Later, she waited for him once everyone save for Laila had left. She often stayed behind as her friend changed back into clothes suitable for the public in the bathroom, but only now did she finally take that chance to shoot her shot.

She stopped him dead in his tracks just as he was about to leave through the back door. He looked completely stunned -- total deer-in-the headlights look -- and a blush instantly spread across his face. She had no room to judge. She was wearing an even worse one. "Thanks," she blurted out. "For earlier, I mean. Like, I've been trying to shake that guy off since I started here and all, I just didn't know how..." She felt like a total idiot as she rambled on. Laila's tics had infiltrated her own speech, but they hardly fit.

Luckily, Flin was there to come to the rescue. "Don't mention it. You just...didn't look all that happy, so I'm glad I could help."

Her heart skipped a beat, but his words loosened her up enough to briefly get a hold of herself. "Look who's talking," she chuckled. "Why do you put up with this place, anyway?"

"Pay's good. Alec's nice."

Ha. Of course. Alec was nice, but it wasKylewho was always around.

"Is that so? You don't seem the type to stick around somewhere that makes you uncomfy. Oh!" Her hands flew to cover her mouth, realizing she'd just said something incredibly rude. So far, her attempt to flirt had gone about as well as trying to kiss an oncoming train. "I'm so sorry! Is that mean of me to say?"

Once again, however, all her flustered ramblings did was make Flin smile. He actually laughed this time -- a beautiful sound, like wind chimes in the breeze. He put one hand behind his head as he did it, and Irina realized for the first time that he was actually a bit taller than her.

Ba-dump.There was the second hit.

He continued on, not knowing a thing. "No, it's okay. You're actually kinda right... Truth is, I need the money. It's kinda... Well, I don't know..."

"Personal?"

"A bit. Me and my friend have this dream, you see. We're both art students here. You might've seen us walk out of the studio before..."

He was cute, but at this she wanted to strangle the hell out of him. She'd always kept an idle eye out for him on campus, but to no avail. He was like a cryptid. Perhaps it was this thought that finally made her make the leap of faith. "Well, if you're down... I'd love to know all about it sometime. Over a drink." Her face went beet red. "A coffee! I meant coffee!"

He went red, too. When they both realized it, they broke into laughter, completely forgetting about the blunder. "Saturday?" he proposed.

"Saturday," she agreed, wiping the tears from her eyes.

When she finally let Flin go, her heart was fluttering until she saw Laila peeking through the cracked bathroom door, giving her a thumbs up. Despite that embarrassment, the days passed by in a flash, and that Saturday arrived in all its magical glory.

And so began her first and only relationship.

Their first date was lovely: a simple coffee meetup. They talked, stared into each other's eyes, and nothing more. He was funnier than she expected him to be, and she finally learned about his passion for graphic design. She could listen to him talk about anything for days -- so much so, in fact, that these dates became a weekly thing even through winter break. By the second month, they went public to everyone at work, much to Kyle's chagrin. This seemed to put more pep in Flin's step, too. By the third month, he was about as good a bartender as one could be.

It was all going swimmingly. He was exactly the type of dork she'd imagined herself falling for ever since she was young.

There was only one problem: her.

Did she deserve someone so perfect?

Even on their best dates, this question nagged at her brain, putting a thin yet impossibly irritating barrier between them. It culminated in averted gazes and little, awkward silences. No matter how used to their outings she became, she just couldn't get rid of her damn insecurities.

She wasn't confident or competent or even all that kind. All she had were the sport her parents had forced her into and the one skill which had never failed her. Beyond those two things, she was nothing -- her studies were a complete joke, her Kinesiology major something she knew she'd never actually use. She didn't have some big dream like Flin. She was just...her. As she'd always been.

On top of all that, she didn't know how to handle any kind of physical intimacy. Flin clearly didn't either, and because of that shared shyness, they -- twocollegestudents -- hadn't warmed up to even kissing after three months.

By that point, she was sick of it. She wanted this to work. She wanted to love him more than she hated herself. So, she "invited" him out on a walk in the campus trail one evening, almost yanking him out of the dining hall by his wrist. They were both blushing, stuttering messes in that forest. They knew why they were there.

Eventually, when the sky was purple and the trees dark silhouettes, they sat down at a random bench, sighing into the cool air. She turned her head and saw him just looking at her -- deep into her eyes on that young, starry night. Neither of them said a word as a silent understanding passed in heavy breaths. Their faces drifted closer. Closer. So close she could feel the heat of his mouth.

The barrier broke.

As she pushed herself more fiercely into their first kiss, she wondered why she was ever scared.

Flin didn't rush her into anything. He didn't expect anything out of her. All he ever did was listen, be there for her. It was so simple, yet he did it so well.

That moment, there in the park, was when she knew for sure.

She did have a dream. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this man.

===

Irina couldn't even moan.

It hurt. He was barely even in yet, but the pain was immediate, searing. She couldn't stop it.

She didn't want it to stop.

The pressure had moved inside, slow yet still unrelenting. Tray's thick mushroom cap pushed aside her inner walls like a snow plow clearing a path forward on a road, aided by the aroused juices she now constantly produced. They gushed from her onto his shaft as it entered inch after excruciating inch, lubricating the girth that only kept stretching her hole wider and wider.

It just kept going. It felt like it would never end.

After roughly thirty seconds of constant penetration, she sucked in breath through her teeth as she felt his pelvis press up against her ample bum, bottoming out all the way. She couldn't think of anything else except for the huge, fat cock lodged deep within her. It felt like she was being torn in two just to accommodate it -- she couldn't close her legs for the life of her, and his plastic-covered tip crowded her womb. Her whole body from the navel down was tingly from adrenaline. She reached a weak, shaky hand there while still bent over and, to her astonishment, felt a slight, pulsating bulge.

Everything about it was completely unfamiliar. Tray had made her a virgin all over again.

"Fuuuuuck, you're tight..." he groaned, growing lightheaded at the feeling of finally being inside her pussy. He couldn't believe he was all in on the first try. He'd expected to meet resistance like he did with every woman he took for the first time this way; after all, most hadn't taken anyone like him before. Given how she struggled to blow him, he thought it reasonable. Instead, as he kept his pressure up, her body kept accepting more and more of him. She was unbelievably flexible.

He'd underestimated her yet again. This poor woman must have been a size queen-in-waiting all her life.

He stayed buried in her for who knows how long, letting them both get acclimate to each other, before his empty hand joined the one on her waist. Irina gasped again as he started his long, long withdrawal. He pulled out just as slowly as he had gone in, and all the overwhelming sensations played back in reverse. He was so thick, her stretched walls, even drenched in aroused juices, gripped him like a vice. She had her eyes closed and wasn't looking at him at all, but she could feel herself being turned inside out.

In the times she got herself off to this forbidden act, she thought she could imagine how this would feel. She thought about the pain of the eggplant, of the feeling of his penis in her hand and mouth. But this was more different than she ever could've imagined. Her grip only got tighter the more he left her, making her feel every detail of his member even more clearly. More intimately. A map of winding, throbbing veins pressed into her flesh and touched places she didn't even know she had. Their pulse responded to her own, harmonizing with it. It was like having a second heartbeat.

Tray kept pulling out until just his head remained inside, then stopped again. She waited and waited for him to do anything. In a way, it felt even worse than having his hard, forearm-sized dick shoved into her. She couldn't stop shivering. Her pussy was unbearably sore, yet it roared for attention more now than ever before. It leaked shamelessly on his tip, begging to feel it again.

He obliged. With the same, steady motion, he pushed forward with another full stroke -- faster this time. It still hurt, but she took him just a tad easier. The navel-down tingling returned, shooting through her crotch and charging her arousal all the more.

It was happening.

She was having sex with Tray.

"Oh... This is so...so..."She couldn't even finish the sentence, though she knew she should. Her disoriented mind couldn't keep up with her morality. "Wrong?" How could she say that? It was painful unlike anything she'd experienced, and he was stretching her too far. She'd never felt anything so...intense. So powerful.

But of all the words she could think of to describe this, "wrong" wasn't one of them.

In, and out. Breathe. Breathe, Irina.

She lurched forward on the couch as Tray settled into a consistent rhythm, taking her slow and steady. Every few seconds, he disappeared into her all the way to the base, then slid out again with a slick, illicit noise.

Soft, drawn-out groans escaped her now when he bottomed out, each fully beyond her control."Mmmm... Oh... Nnnnnh....!"

Over time, he sped up. She moaned louder with every minute acceleration, now hypersensitive to the activity happening between her legs. She could hardly believe it was even sex. The intimacy she was used to was slow, yes, but she was never this full.

With Flin, she always wanted more. She could feel his heartbeat, but she was never one with him. She couldn't get enough of him, and that was, for the most part, what drove their best nights.

Not so with Tray. Tray was more than enough.Too much,at first.

But only at first. And with every stroke, that was rapidly changing.

As she tried to catch up with the methodical treatment, Tray was doing just the same with her. He had to be careful. She clearly didn't recognize it herself, but her body was instinctively very good at this. Already, she was essentially sucking him in on her own as he went on, squeezing tighter and tighter whenever he pulled back as if she was trying to not let him escape. If this didn't feel so damn good, he would've cracked a grin down at her horny display.

His months of conditioning had paid off as well as he could've hoped. Now, all that was left was to give her what she oh-so-desperately wanted.

He thrust.

Slap!

"Ah!" she let out her first full-on moan, wanton and wailing. Taking him at a leisurely pace was one thing, but feeling so much meat jam its way in, dealing with all those dazzling sensations in one instant... It was incomparable. Just that one thrust sent a white-hot bolt of tingling rapture through her like a bolt of lightning. She felt the impact deep in her gut.

And he was already doing it again.

And again.

And again...

Slap, slap, slap!

A grunt escaped Irina's lips as Tray began to pound her properly into the couch from behind. She could barely process anything she felt anymore -- the two big, firm hands grasping her waist, the toned body slapping against her ass...and, of course, the huge cock pistoning in and out of her wildly, its fat head kissing up against her deepest part over and over. He wasn't giving her any more time to adjust. The shred of dignity she had left wanted complain that he was being too rough, but as he kept fucking her, it left her in a gutteral moan. Carnal instinct took the wheel and grabbed the cushion with both hands, burying her face in a couch pillow as she let the novel cocktail of pain and pleasure go on.