When Jannah got her first job, there was only one thing on her mind. She knew what she was good at – making men’s cocks hard – and she knew what she wanted in life – a firm hand in her hair, a stranger’s cock in her mouth, a stern voice telling her she was nothing but a slut, but that she was being a very *good* slut.
Her Daddy wouldn’t let her be a stripper or a whore, but he was okay with her working in retail, and there was that one lingerie chain that had been in the news for asking its shopgirls to flirt with male customers.
She was good at flirting and she was good at looking cute. She got the job, and went above and beyond in the role. She would model the underwear for men in the changerooms. She would let them book her for private modelling sessions at their house. Sometimes when men asked, “What would that bra look like on a woman who was sucking my cock?” she would show them. She would ask them which panties made them most want to rape her, or which bra they would most like to roughly rip from her tits.
She got the men so used to thinking of the shopworkers as fucktoys that they’d treat the other girls the same way. Sometimes when they pressured the poor other girls to fuck them, all in the name of good customer service, they’d let Jannah join in. Jannah wasn’t really into girls, which made it even hotter when she was forced to be, when a man firmly pushed her face down into her co-worker’s cunt and told her to lick.
Before long, Jannah got the offer she had been waiting for – a handsome, rich man saying, “How much would it cost to buy you along with the lingerie?” She told him – a symbolic amount only, just enough to make her feel like purchasable property – and he helped her pen her resignation letter and leave with him for the life of being an owned fuck-slave that she had always dreamed of.
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