Gromet's PlazaErotic Stories

The Secret Life of Rica

by AmyAmy

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© Copyright 2015 - AmyAmy - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; F/f; hum; fantasy; mast; climax; caught; therapy; sub; desire; cons/reluct; X

(story continues from )

Chapter 2: Rica's Secrets Andrew

With the latest downturn there were no construction jobs. He’d been all over town to confirm that the previous week. He’d never done fast-food before, but it how hard could it be? He arrived a little early to the interview. Trust his twisted luck, some hot chick was already waiting there.

She was dressed down, like one of those girls from an eighties teen movie where the female lead looks a dork and then she goes all soft-focus, takes off her big glasses, shakes out her hair in slow-motion, and suddenly it’s obvious she’s a foxy sex-bomb.

Sure, it was a job interview, but there was no rule against talking to a girl at an interview. If it was a girl as hot as this one, he was basically obliged to hit on her by the guy’s code of conduct, wasn’t he?

“Here about the job?” he said. If only he could have come up with a better question, but his mind was coming up blank and hesitation was the same as failure in this game.

She nodded and looked away blushing. Wooee. Shy. So cute. They were going to give her the job for sure. He had no chance against her coy charisma. But did he have a chance with her?

“I’m Andrew. Just moved here two weeks ago from out in the sticks. What about you?”

Her face went even redder. He hadn’t expected that. She took a couple of steps back and mumbled something so quietly it was impossible to make out.

He was about to try a fresh approach when the manager came out.

“I’m Ellen. You kids here about work?” Ellen was tall, in her early thirties, with short bobbed hair. She was all about business, there would be no messing with her.

“Yes Ma’am,” he said.

“That’s good,” she said. She looked right at the chick. “And you?”

“Yes, the job,” the girl mumbled. The first words he’d heard from her. Her voice was deeper than he’d expected, with a sexy buzz to it.

Definitely shy; not just a put on. Maybe he was in with a chance for the job after all. Unlucky for her but she was still nice looking and that whole shy vibe was hot in its own way.

The manager led them into a store room and closed the door.

“The basic rule is that this place runs on school kids. They come, they go, they work for practically nothing, and they do not give a shit. Pardon my French. I don’t often get older kids apply, so I like to interview them personal when they do.”

“Much appreciated,” Andrew said. He wasn’t a kid, but she could call him one if it meant he got paid.

The girl said nothing. She alternated between staring at her shoes and the door. Why had she even shown up?

“Sometimes, if I’m lucky, kids your age give a damn whether they get fired or not. I need somebody reliable around because somebody has to be and I can’t be here twenty-four-seven. Right now I have a trainee supervisor position to fill. I don’t have anybody that would be any use for it right now. It’s a good position. Prospects. Even if you’re not serious about a career, it’s worth something on your CV. How’s that sound? Can you take some responsibility?”

“It sounds a great opportunity to me,” he said. Yes, it sounded fine apart from the empty tedium and the terrible pay. Maybe he could bump up his take-home with some extra hours?

The girl was still fixated by her shoes and the door handle. He didn’t normally look at people’s shoes but for some reason he noticed hers: chunky brown hiking boots. She had baggy jeans that looked a size too big and a flannel shirt that fit her like a tent. Even so, he could pick out the outline of a fit body under that camouflage. Did she work out at a gym? He could imagine her doing that, getting all sweaty in a tiny spandex outfit. Blushing when the guys leered at her. Tasty.

“The job only pays regular wage, but there’s a fast track to store manager position. You just have to stick out six months of pain. The only way I know if you have what it takes is to see how you do the job, so you can start as regulars if you think you are up to it. A month on, I make my decision on who moves up. Who knows, I get lucky, could be both of you?”

It looked like she’d already given up on the chick. The way she arched her eyebrow, Andrew could tell she was joking about both of them, but at least she was prepared to give him a shot.

He tried to give the supervisor his full attention but his gaze kept being drawn to the curves beneath that mumbling chick’s baggy shirt.  He imagined her on her knees in nothing but the shirt, hands cuffed behind her back, staring up at him with her pouty little mouth wide open ready for his cock.

The supervisor had her attention completely on him. “So how does that sound?”

“Great,” he said. “Just tell me when you want me to start. I can do any hours you want.”

The chick glanced up at him and gave him a look. It was half way between terror and smouldering. He had no clue what she was trying to get across.  Her face was still bright red. What was up with her?

Had she been embarrassed because he’d been checking out her tits? Maybe she’d read his mind? If she could, that cock-sucking fantasy might be getting her all hot and bothered. He stopped himself from smiling at that, it would look weird. She seemed afraid of him and that worked sweet with his bondage fantasy, but it was distracting. He needed to focus on the manager. He needed a job and this one would do.

Maybe he should ask her for a date?

The supervisor looked at the girl. “You’re a quiet one.”

“Sorry. Um… Um, sorry,” she said. “It doesn’t sound like something I can do. Thanks for seeing me. Sorry I wasted your time. I have to go. Something … urgent. Sorry.”

She bolted out of the door leaving it swinging open behind her. A real pity, he might have got her number if he’d just had a minute alone. What had been up with her? Maybe she’d had the gastro? Or maybe she really could read minds.

“I guess that leaves you?” the supervisor said. “Andrew was it? You can start right away if you’re ready.”


When she got home, Erica crept quietly upstairs to her room, threw herself on the bed and sobbed into her pillow. Was this her new daily routine? She couldn’t even manage to apply for a crappy McJob. She’d promised herself she’d do whatever it took but she’d broken her promise, she’d run away.

Even if she hadn’t been selected to move up – and she wouldn’t have been – she could at least have worked a regular position. The manager had as much as said that she could work for a month. She’d run away from a few weeks of actual paying work.

She wanted to talk to someone, but Ez wasn’t online and besides, Ez had probably joined the ranks of people that called her ‘the Flake’ by now.

She’d held a lot of stuff back from her in their chats, and for good reason. Ez wouldn’t like her if she knew how pathetic she really was; how her awkwardness kept ruining her life; how she couldn’t stand up to anyone.

She wouldn’t be in this stupid situation if she could have sucked some smelly old professor’s cock. She was sure lots of girls could and would have done it. Maybe she would have done it too if she was able. That was the worst of it, it wasn’t a moral decision; she hadn’t rejected it out of strength, it was simple inability. Even if Rimkoff had been some hunky movie star she couldn’t have done it. It was beyond her control.

Yes, she had desires. She definitely had them. She liked parts of the idea of sex with a guy. She masturbated regularly. She read about sex and romance endlessly, and she had a basic grasp of the sexual options out there in the big world. Her shyness always stopped her from following through any of her ambitions with men. Sometimes she lusted after a guy so damn much. But still not enough to get past her anxiety.

Sure it was wrong for Rimkoff to put her in that position, and it would be wrong for her to tolerate his abuse of power, but if it was a toss-up between passing her year and making a moral point to some professor who would always see her as a brattish child, she would rather pass the year and move on. Somebody stronger could fight the good fight against misogyny.

She checked the clock. Her appointment with Belling wasn’t for another couple of hours, she didn’t have to rush. She went over to her bookshelf and pulled out an old paperback from the eighties: Captive of Gor. She’d picked up in a second-hand bookstore in a five-for-one deal. There were dozens of books in the series but she’d never felt a need to buy any of the others. This one did the job just fine.

She thumbed through the pages until she found her favourite part then lay face down on the bed. She started rubbing her nipples ever so gently, barely touching. Once that got old she popped open the top button of her jeans and lowered the zip. Starting to read, she slid her hand down inside her panties and began to finger herself, gently at first. She didn’t have to read much of the story; it was just to set the mood. She kept reading for a minute or so, pulling her legs slightly forward and lifting her hips so that she could reach far enough to slide a finger inside.

She didn’t need the book now. She pinched her nipples and worked her clit with her thumb until she came and then rolled over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling of her room. The sound of video game gunfire was coming from downstairs.

She and another girl had the two upstairs rooms. Her housemate, Bridget, or as she was known to her friends, Bea, was probably out. Erica always thought that Bea was more appropriate as a shortening of Beatrice, but Bridget had said “call me Bea” – or as she pronounced it ‘Bee’ – so there was no way she could call her anything else after that.

Bea was everything Erica wasn’t. She was a tall, thin, with long, straight, natural blonde hair. She had a talent for buying and wearing clothes so that she looked like a super-model slumming it with students. She wasn’t around much; her lifestyle was way too cool to spend any time in the house.

After a while lying there, Erica started to imagine she was Bea.

Sometimes Bea came back with some hot guy and they would cook dinner together. It was always something fancy like off a cookery show. Erica had the impression that the guys Bea brought back expected to stay the night, but she never took them up to her room. She always threw them out once she started to get tired.

She slipped her hand down into her panties again, pretending she was Bea, parading about in a revealing outfit and fuck-me shoes, all the hot guys checking her out on the dance-floor of some trendy club. She imagined herself eye to eye with one of Bea’s old almost-boyfriends, her hand sliding up under his shirt to feel the warm solidity of his ripped muscles underneath. His hand lifting her designer dress…

Erica was snapped out of her drowsy dream world by the sound of heels outside her door. She snatched her hand away from her crotch, and scrabbled to do up her jeans. The door opened before she could finish… not so much as a knock. The real Bea walked right into the middle of the room.

“Oh. I didn’t come at a bad time did I?” she said.

She’d seen enough, to make a sly comment, the bitch. Erica could feel the hot flush growing across her face and chest. She was embarrassed as hell but she felt safe enough around Bea not to lose it completely.

She would never be the sort of cool person that Bea would have as a friend. Erica had seen Bea’s friends only once or twice, but it was enough to know that they were all like Bea, maybe even cooler.

“Get out! Don’t just come into my room! Please…” Erica said, her voice almost cracking.

“Sorry. Just wondered if you wanted something to eat? I made a salad and there’s too much. Didn’t mean to startle you or anything.”

“No. Sorry. It’s ok. I was asleep and you startled me.”

“Please. If you want some, just come down. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Bea raised her hand to her mouth. Was she hiding a smile?

“Don’t worry. I’m not hungry,” Erica said.

Erica had lost her appetite. It was the stress. For the last two days all she’d had was water. She didn’t have any food in anyway. She was edgy about food shopping and the business with Rimkoff had thrown out her routine.

“Really, it’s no problem. I’ll put the left overs in the fridge in case you get hungry later.”

It was only a few words but it was the longest conversation she’d ever had with Bea.

Had Bea really invited her down to eat with her?


Probably the start of some horrid plot to humiliate and bully her? When cool people talked to her, it was usually the set up for her to open up a little before they twisted the knife in her back and ganged up to mock her.

She’d shared the house with Bea for a year and after their first meeting Bea had barely recognized her existence, so what was going on?

The only time they crossed paths was in the kitchen. Bea never wanted to look her in the eye. She was always watching her secretly – with that smug cat-that-got-the-cream expression on her face – gaze darting away when Erica tried to catch her at it.

Erica sat up. The book was resting cover-up on her pillow. No doubt, Bea had seen it. Erica felt the paralysing grip of humiliation. She’d been exposed. She wouldn’t be able to be in the same room as Bea for a week, even if Bea went back to ignoring her like before.

The Session

The session had started with Erica telling Doctor Elaine Belling about what Professor Rimkoff had done and how she felt about it. There had been some tears but that was over now.

“So you feel that you aren’t able to do anything about what the Professor has done to you?”

“He picked on me because he figured I would be scared enough to do whatever he wanted. And I was afraid, just not in the way he expected. There’s no way anyone will believe he wanted me. I’m practically invisible. Even my tutorial group don’t know who I am.”

“You say that you’re practically invisible. You’ve said that before. Didn’t you also say that everyone on your course called you a cruel nickname? So sometimes they know who you are and sometimes they see you. I’m going to take a guess and say that neither of those pictures exactly represents reality. Why is it so terrible when people notice you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I want to be invisible.”

“I don’t think you do Erica. I think you want to be seen. You simply have an unusual way of going about it.”

“I don’t do this just to get attention.”

“I didn’t say it was anything so simple. Do you wonder about that? If it’s not attention, what are you looking for?”

“No. I want to avoid it. I hate them looking at me. Look what it’s done to me. I can’t even get the worst job in town. I can’t keep my promise. I’ll can’t even freeload off my parents, they don’t have any money.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned your mother and your brothers on many occasions.”

What did Belling mean by that? What was she hinting at? But there was no point second guessing everything when there were real puzzles to solve.

“My housemate barged into my room earlier today. She’s never done that before. She never speaks to me.”

“Why do you think she did that?”

“She said she had some spare food, but I don’t think that was it.”

“What do you think it was then?”

“I think she heard me masturbating. Maybe I made a noise but somehow she knew I was doing it. She knew and she wanted to see. She wanted to see so she could tell others about it.”

“Were you doing it when she came in?”

“No. I’d been finished a while. I was about to start again.”

“So, if she heard you, she waited a long time before she came in?”

“No. When I finished she went downstairs and made salad, and then she came up when it was done.”

“She made salad when you finished masturbating? Does that make any sense to you?”

“I have no idea. I can’t figure her out at all.”

“You didn’t lock the door?”

“I never had to before. I will from now on.”

“Is it possible that she simply wants to be friends with you?”

“No. Not really. At best she looks down at me.”

“Do you think she feels sorry for you?”

“She’s never shown any sign of it. She’s not exactly considerate. She’s a prick-teaser. She has guys over but they never get any.”

“You seem to have some strong opinions about her. Do you know her well?”

“She’s never let one of them in her room.”

“But she could be doing it at their place, couldn’t she? Perhaps she doesn’t want you to know she’s doing it? Would you want everyone to see what you were doing?”

“I don’t know. Why would she even care?”

“I don’t know enough about her to say. Do you have any ideas?”

“No. Until today I was invisible to her.”

“It sounds like you feel that she’s doing something wrong by hanging out with men she doesn’t intend to have sex with? But you don’t think sex is the only way to relate to men, do you?”

“She’s misleading them. She’s using them to make herself look more popular. They are just accessories for her. A way to raise her status.”

“How does it work? Who sees her with them?”

“People in our house see her, but other people probably know they are hanging out right? Probably she also sees them outside. Her girlfriends, rich kids… They see her, I think.”

“Rich kids?”

“Not really rich but they have more money than me. I bet her parents drive a giant German SUV wagon thing that cost as much as a house and buy organic whole foods.”

“And she asked you if you wanted her left over food? Did you feel insulted?”

“Well no. She said she’d made too much and asked whether I wanted some.”

“What did you say?”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Do you think she felt rejected?”

“I didn’t just blow her off… I mean…”

“Earlier you said you haven’t eaten since Monday. Weren’t you incredibly hungry?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Didn’t you say that it was your eating habits that made you ill before?”

“No, that’s wrong. I had pneumonia. It was just a chest infection that turned bad.”

“But your doctor did mention your diet?”

“I’ll eat a proper meal later today, but I wasn’t hungry then, alright? Do I look like I’m wasting away.”

“I wouldn’t say you were unnaturally thin. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“Not specifically. I mean, I just don’t feel I’m making progress and I need to make a change. I have to change myself so I can get a job, get the money for my fees, for my rent, you know?”

“Yes. Everyone has to think about money don’t they? We have a few minutes left so I’d like to suggest something. I hope you’ll agree.”

“Am I likely to say no?” she said. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“The incident with your Professor is the first big problem you’ve had in a while. I’d expect it to seem like a setback. Anyone would be upset at what happened to you. It’s natural to be angry and frustrated.”

“You’re telling me it’s not a setback? Seriously?”

“It would be a pity if you turned against yourself because you can’t get a job. It can be hard to find work, and in your position it must seem especially daunting. If you take one step at a time, you can move forward. Whether that will be fast enough to satisfy you, whether it will be enough to meet your financial needs, I don’t know.

“I suggest that you try something new. Previously, I’ve recommended that you try medication to reduce your anxiety levels and build up your confidence. I know you’ve resisted it in the past, but there a new drug has recently been approved for wider use, and I think it may be helpful for you,” she said.

“I don’t want it. I probably can’t afford it either.”

“Don’t make a decision right now. Please, hear me out. This is not a sedative, or an anti-depressant, and there is no evidence to show it’s addictive. I know your concerns. As it’s not an anti-depressant, if anyone ever asks you if you’ve been prescribed anti-depressant medication, you can truthfully answer no.”

“So what does it do?”

“It’s intended for use by women who have trouble getting aroused. If anyone knows what it is they will assume you were taking it for fun. You aren’t in the age group it’s normally targeted at.”

“That’s stupid. I don’t need to be any more frustrated than I am already.”

“If you already have a healthy sex drive it won’t turn you into a nymphomaniac, but it has some side effects related to assertiveness that may be beneficial for you. Just try it for a couple of weeks and if you don’t want to continue then you can just stop. It might not be the answer. It might not do anything at all for you, but it could be beneficial.”

“I’m not sure.”


Bea sat silently, staring at her computer screen. She’d been reading bondage stories online. Sometimes she had to read dozens just to find the right one. She loved it when a stuck-up middle aged woman was dominated by a rebellious younger one. She imagined herself, the older woman, full of pride, being humiliated by a precocious girl who somehow negated all her experience and wisdom. More often than not she imagined the girl was like Rica.

It was so awesome that she’d seen Rica with her hand in her panties. That old book on her pillow had looked like something dirty. She had looked up the title. It had turned out to be something, but was it good news or bad? If Rica read it for the slave part it would suck, but maybe she identified with the master? Those books were for guys weren’t they?

She’d been in the house a few weeks when she realised she was becoming obsessed with Rica. Sure, Rica hid herself under horrible clothes. It made sense, otherwise everyone would be hitting on her all the time Men, women, who wouldn’t want her?

The way she dressed, at least she had to be butch. At first, it was so hot to imagine Rica fucking her normally. But now she would imagine Erica dominating her, tying her up, bossing her around and binding her in painful positions to punish and reward. Rica was definitely the smouldering silent type. Irresistible.

She started bringing guys back to get a reaction from her. Rica had been so icy cool it hadn’t worked. Rica didn’t even seem to notice her or those man sluts.

The worst possibility was that Rica wasn’t interested in her at all. The best was that Rica wanted to punish her for teasing. That was probably a bit too optimistic though.

What would it be like to be beaten by her? What would it be like to be disciplined by Rica, wanting her so bad, so eager to please, that she would agree to anything? What if she was in so much pain she desperately wanted it to stop but couldn’t bear to disappoint her mistress?

Could her mistress really use her own lust against her, to break down her will with the threat of pain and the promise of pleasure? Was she already so intoxicated with Rica that those things were already beside the point?

While Rica was out she sat in silence, staring at the words on the computer screen. They started to swim before her eyes. The sound of Rica returning to her room didn’t come. She had to get through to her somehow. Maybe if she chained herself up as a present on Rica’s bed it would be the right kind of confession to get her attention?

She’d checked the salad but none of it had gone. Wasn’t it a good one? Why didn’t she want it? She didn’t have any food, wasn’t she hungry? Maybe she didn’t like salad. No, that had to be wrong, Bea was sure she saw her eating some just a few days ago. It was the only thing she’d ever seen her eat.

The sound of keys in the door – there it was. Bea jumped up from her seat and ran to the door. If she was quick she could catch her before she locked herself in her room.


Bea found Erica in the kitchen, swallowing back some pills with a big glass of water. Did she get headaches? She moved to get a closer look at the pill bottle but Rica swept it away and into her bag before she could see.

“Hello,” she said. “Sorry you didn’t like the salad.”

“Uh, no. I just wasn’t hungry. I’m sure it was great. I just didn’t look.”

Rica’s jaw was clenched, her eyes flashing fire. What had she done to upset her? Did she really hate salad or something? Maybe she was insulted that Bea thought she needed charity? It wasn’t charity, she just wanted to help. How could she fix this? How?

“I guess you prefer to look after yourself. I just saw you didn’t have any food in,” Bea said. “Thought I’d save you the bother of going out. I can cook you something else if you like? Is there something that’s your favourite?”

Rica’s cheeks turned red. Oh no. She was making things worse.

Rica glowered at her from beneath furrowed brows. “What’s going on Bea?”

“What do you mean, going on? Erica… Erica… Can I call you Rica?”

“We’ve barely spoken two words in the last year and now this? I’m not ungrateful or anything. But your sudden interest is suspicious.”

Suspicious? What sort of sneaky things could salad get up to? Maybe it was a boundaries issue. She had walked into Rica’s room without permission. That had been a mistake but she’d been excited. What did it matter though? Rica would be going away any day now. Now was her best chance to connect to Rica over the summer. Maybe her only chance.

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just … you know … the end of term and I thought you’d be leaving. I didn’t want you to go without saying goodbye properly.”

“Properly? What do you mean by that?”

What did she mean? She’d imagined Rica sitting on her face and also Rica ramming her from behind with a strap on. Those would be things to take away, but better as a beginning. Why hadn’t she done this earlier? Right. Maybe that was what Rica meant? She’d been so stupid, Rica was simply angry that she had been dishonest about her feelings up until now, wasting precious time. Rica didn’t seem like she was the sort to waste a chance.

“I know you value your privacy. I’m really going to miss you Rica. I know we didn’t talk much but it was still nice to know you were around. It would be great if we could, you know, keep in touch over the holiday.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going home for the holidays. I have to work. I’m staying here if I can. I guess it’ll just be me and the guys. Do we need to find someone for your room?”

“No,” Bea said. “I’m staying too. Wow! Everyone is staying. Isn’t it great?”

She grabbed Erica’s hand and pressed it against her breast. Please Rica, feel how I feel.

Rica was stronger than she’d expected. A powerful grip closed on Bea’s boob. She’d meant to put Rica’s hand on her heart, but this would do. Not that she could stop it now, she was helpless against a strength like Rica’s.

Bea hung on to Rica’s hand. Her skin was so warm, so alive. Electricity was pouring into her, charging her with desire.

“What are you doing Bea?”

“Can you feel how excited I am?” Bea said. The voice didn’t sound like her own, it was all strange and breathy. It wasn’t her fault, all the air had disappeared from the room. “How fast my heart is beating?”

“Uh… You put my hand on your boob, not your heart you dummy,” Erica said, still holding Bea’s breast through her fancy black satin blouse.

“Can you feel it? Oh. Oh no, my nipple went hard. I’m so ashamed. You must think I’m one of those girls who likes other girls?” Though that was kind of the idea, but surely Rica had worked it out weeks ago?

Bea had been over this fantasy so many times in her head and now it was happening. She was practically ready to cum just from the thought of it. If Rica just moved her hand, maybe she would pee herself with excitement. That would be super humiliating…

Rica watching her wet herself? It was certainly making her wet, though not in that way. She imagined Rica calling her all kinds of names, maybe rubbing her nose in it to punish her like a naughty puppy. A vision of Rica making her scrub it up – on her hands and knees, in a slutty maid uniform– flashed into her mind. Her knees went all wobbly. She clung to Rica’s arm so she wouldn’t fall.

Rica shook her head. Bea felt a shudder pass through Rica’s arm and then it was torn from her grasp. She stumbled back, almost collapsing. Rica was so ferocious. By the time she regained her balance Rica was gone.

There was a sound of boots running up the stairs and then a door slammed.

Bea ran after her. “Reeecaaaaa,” she called out before she could stop herself.

Rica’s door was closed. Probably locked.

“Don’t come in. Go away,” Rica said from behind the door.

“If I’ve been naughty you need to punish me,” Bea said.

“Just stay out of my room. Whatever it is you’re trying it won’t work.”

Rica must be punishing her for touching her without permission. People like her had to be in control all the time, in every way. It should have been obvious. Obviously, Rica didn’t intend to reward her for breaking the rules that way.

Bea went back to her room. She sat down, then pressed her ear against the thin wall, listening. She thought she heard a sob, but that couldn’t be right. Rica was probably masturbating again. Maybe planning how to punish her properly? With a strap on? The image formed in her mind. Bea had never had that done to her, never done anything with another girl, Rica would be the first.

But what if she’d misconstrued everything? A misunderstanding would be terrible. The answer was simple, she just needed to make a hole in the wall. It would only have to be a small one to push a tiny camera through.


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