Dream move

This story begins in 2003. The situation in our city, and in the country as a whole, was not the most reassuring, and when my husband and I had the opportunity to flee to Spain, we decided to cling to this chance with all our might. Oleg posted his resume on one of the websites offering work abroad, and after a short while, we received a response from a company interested in a young, promising employee who always felt his work was undervalued in his homeland. This site had a good reputation, and only real employers had access to the resumes—at least that's what was claimed—and the reviews of the site

were exclusively positive. At that time, I was 21, and Oleg and I had been married for a year; he was 23. After reading the email, Oleg hurried to share the good news with me.

— Lera! he shouted from the room where the computer was.

— Huh? I answered calmly, in a homely tone, not sensing the notes of excitement in his voice.

— I got a response, he said in a slightly higher tone than usual.

My heart sped up a little, as I hadn't expected such a quick reply. My thoughts began to paint a picture of the future on their own, even though I didn't even know which country the offer was from. I rushed to his room to read the letter with my own eyes.

Oleg had listed proficiency in three foreign languages on his resume: Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian. And honestly, my sympathies leaned most toward Spain, as I had also taken courses in that language, and it would be easier for me to adapt in a country whose language I already spoke a little. So, when I saw that the response came from Barcelona, my emotions went through the roof. I started jumping up and down and clapping my hands, shouting:

— Olezka, you see, I told you!!

— Well, let's not make premature predictions. Oleg was always restrained in his emotions.

Next, we began contacting representatives of this company, preparing documents, and other boring things which, with your permission, I won't dwell on.

Upon arrival in the capital of Catalonia, we were met by a company representative and escorted to a car. On the way to the office, Oleg and Javier—that's how he introduced himself—had a casual conversation, barely related to work. I didn't understand everything they were saying, but the gist of the conversation was clear.

When we arrived at the office, the company director, Ernesto Munges—that was his name—was already waiting for us. A stately man around 40 years old, about 190 cm tall, with the typical Spanish tan, black eyes, and hair combed to the side. He shook Oleg's hand quite firmly and then turned his gaze to me. He had a very strong gaze; despite his smile, you could feel his superiority, even a certain dominance over people. Without embarrassment, he looked over my figure. Then he told us to come into his office. In the office, he explained Oleg's working conditions and asked what I planned to do in the new place, arguing that during the probationary period, the salary wouldn't be enough to afford a rented apartment in one of Spain's most expensive cities. We replied that I didn't plan to sit idle and would look for a job (by education, I am a food technologist). Ernesto said it would be difficult to find work in that specialty here, especially for a foreign girl, and offered me a job as a housekeeper in their home, asking us not to take it as rudeness. The idea didn't seem bad to us; we thought it would only be temporary and would help us get on our feet.

And so, my first working day arrived. I came to Mr. Munges's luxurious house, where he lived with his wife, Valencia, and their only son, Juan. I thought it was simply a huge house for three people. Besides me, there was other staff in the house, each with assigned duties. Mine included cleaning three bedrooms and two bathrooms. I was given a uniform exactly like the ones shown in movies: a rather short black-and-white dress that emphasized my slender, long legs. I approached the mirror and saw the reflection of a girl more reminiscent of a porn film than an ordinary maid: white hair falling over my shoulders, a neckline exposing just a small part of my size 2 breasts, which gave this look not just lewdness but also a certain innocence. At that moment, Mr. Munges entered the room. I felt his greedy gaze on my buttocks, my legs, my chest, and only then did he look into my eyes. Wishing me a pleasant day, he disappeared behind the door again.

Thus began my ordinary days as a housekeeper. Everything went on as usual; each time, Mr. Munges would look me over with his indecent gaze, and I had already gotten used to it.

Everything changed on the day Oleg came home from work in complete despair. He told me that due to his mistake, expensive equipment had broken down, and now he would lose his bonus for several months or even be fired, in which case we would be left unwanted in a foreign country. We couldn't sleep all night, and in the morning, we went to work. At work, I couldn't shake the thought that our dreams might collapse, and when Ernesto entered the house, I knew he would look me over again. I decided to talk to him.

— Mr. Munges, forgive me for meddling in matters that aren't my business, but I'm very interested in my husband's future at your company, I said, as befits a maid.

To my surprise, a brazen smile spread across his face.

— Your husband is an even more pathetic man than I could have imagined, if he sends his wife to fix his mistakes.

These words tightened my chest; it was very humiliating to hear such things about my husband.

— He didn't ask for anything; this was my personal interest, I said, lacking the courage to say more.

— So, you didn't start this conversation to settle this matter, but just decided to waste my time with empty chatter?

— I... I don't know. I would like everything to be okay. I'm sorry if I'm wasting your time. Under such pressure, I stopped feeling my legs, my heart began to pound like crazy, and I just wanted to run away from there.

— Before a man like me, you should apologize on your knees. It sounded as if this should be the norm for me.

He closed the room door and stared at me. I felt weakness throughout my body; I wanted to cry, I was crushed and very frightened. I even felt I was barely holding my bladder; I had never experienced such fear.

— Get on your knees if you want to preserve your family's position in this city.

And I gave in; I felt I would do whatever he said just to end this nightmare. I got on my knees and looked at him pitifully and fearfully, clasping my hands together.

— That's better, he said, approaching me.

— Now you will unzip my fly yourself and take your master's cock into your mouth.

Without further thought, as if under hypnosis, I began to follow the new instructions of my master. Unzipping his fly, I took out his meaty, large cock with protruding veins; it was dark in color with a large, brown head. I had never seen such a size before. Before Oleg, I had two boyfriends, but they were all roughly the same size. This was the cock of a real man; seeing it, I myself wanted to submit to him. I started putting the penis in my mouth, and it barely fit; just its head almost completely filled my mouth. I diligently stuffed it in, drooling, choking on his huge apparatus. Then he took me by the hair and ordered me to keep my head straight. He began fucking my head as if it were a vagina; no one had ever done such a thing to me. I felt myself starting to get aroused from these new sensations of hopelessness and submission to a truly powerful man. After fucking my mouth like the last whore, he ordered me to undress. kkiss18.net I was already doing it of my own will, imagining how this cock would enter me. After undressing, I heard the command to get on all fours on the bed, which I did.

— Beg to be fucked yourself, he said, his voice already growling with excitement.

I understood this brought him the same insane pleasure as it did me.

— I ask you to fuck me, I began to say, breathless from this madness.

— Beg.

— I beg you, fuck me, my master.

— Say you're a whore and deserve this.

— I'm a whore; I deserve this.

— I knew you'd like it. With these words, he took off his pants and approached me.

And then fear returned to me with new force when I felt him pressing his monster against my ass. It was still virgin, and I had heard what pain anal sex with an unprepared ass could cause.

— I beg you, just not there.

— Beg more, whore.

— I beg you, my master, have mercy on your whore. These words came out of my mouth on their own; I didn't even think I was capable of such phrases.

— Fine, I'll spare you this time, he said.

Running his cock up and down my pussy, lubricating his head, he began to insert his apparatus into me smoothly and gently. I realized he actually wanted me to enjoy this too.

I felt the walls of my vagina stretching to unprecedented sizes. Oh, this feeling of fullness—not every woman gets to experience it. It was a dizzying high. He began fucking me doggy style, making me talk about how I was a dirty whore. I repeated it until I felt warmth in my pussy area. It was as if I was being electrocuted; my legs shook, and my body went limp on this strong rod that continued to stretch my pussy. It was the best orgasm of my life. After a while longer, he pulled out his cock, turned me toward him, ordered me to open my mouth, and shot several large, thick streams of his cum. It ran down my chin, and he rubbed his cock over it; I felt he had complete power over me, and I liked it. I swallowed everything in my mouth with pleasure, and he wiped the remnants with my panties, saying I would go home without them today. He said my husband wouldn't even notice, that he wasn't a man and didn't feel what a woman wants. I understood my life would never be the same again…