I stood in the ruins of my once opulent life. My hands were trembling as I looked at the eviction notice. The deal I had signed had been a disaster, leaving my father’s company bankrupt and his fortune gone. The man who orchestrated the rip-off was a cold-hearted shark, relishing in the destruction he had caused.
In the aftermath, my father passed away. Now everything I had—my home, my car—was being taken away. With nowhere else to go, I sought refuge in my friend Zara’s modest apartment. She had been kind enough to let me stay. But I felt like a stranger in my own life.
Every day, the discomfort grew. I knew I couldn’t continue living in the limbo. Driven by a fierce determination, I resolved to take matters into my own hands and reclaim what had been stolen from me. With the business gone and no options left, I started looking for a job.
One day, I ran into Nadia, a gym friend I hadn’t seen in a while. Nadia was different—wild, naughty, and not afraid to use her body to get ahead. She had men wrapped around her finger, climbing the success ladder with every lustful glance they gave her.
She noticed my struggles and gave me a sly smile, planting a thought in my mind that would linger. “Don’t worry, Samira,” Nadia said. “With a body like yours, you can get back everything you’ve lost. Trust me, I’ve done it. Use what you’ve got. Men will give you anything if you play your cards right.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. The suggestion felt dirty, but there was truth in it, and I couldn’t shake the thought. Nadia even forwarded my resume to a company that handled all kinds of events—conferences, parties, weddings, everything.
“Just use your assets,” she said. “Life without money is tough, babe.” I knew it was time to take action. Maybe this wasn’t what I had imagined, but I needed to start somewhere. I had always taken care of my body. It showed in every inch of my tight, peach-shaped ass, perfectly round and hard to resist.
My tits—big, firm breasts—stood out, drawing every man’s eye. My abs were toned, reflecting the time I spent at the gym. But it was my pussy that pulsed with a wet heat whenever I thought about what Nadia had suggested. I knew how my body could make men weak.
My pussy lips were soft, my clit sensitive to even the slightest touch. My slim waist led down to hips that screamed for attention. My long, dark hair framed my face perfectly. I could see the desire in every man’s eyes whenever they glanced at my full lips, my thick thighs, and my perfect curves.
That evening, I returned home to check my wardrobe. I needed something that would help me make a professional impression. But Nadia’s words kept echoing in my mind. I pulled out a formal outfit—a tight black pencil skirt and a white blouse.
Standing in front of the mirror, I smoothed down the skirt. It clung to my peach-shaped ass, perfectly showing off my slim waist. My big, firm boobs strained against the blouse. The outline of my tits made my cleavage all the more noticeable.
The next day, I prepared for the interview. The office was on the 22nd floor, and as the elevator rose, Nadia’s words kept replaying in my mind. A thought crossed my mind, and I decided to give it a shot.
Slowly, I unbuttoned the top of my blouse, just enough for my white cleavage to peek through, my pale boobs perfectly outlined. As the lift doors opened, the liftman and a young man standing outside both stared straight at my chest. I smiled to myself, feeling the power rush through me.
“Yes,” I thought, “this is the easiest method.” As the elevator doors opened, my excitement faded quickly. My heart sank when I saw the interviewer was a woman—her name was Priya Mehta. Of course, just my luck. I had expected to walk in and charm my way through with the cleavage trick.
But Priya’s sharp eyes shifted from my chest to my face, unimpressed. The interview wasn’t what I had expected. It felt less like a discussion about the job and more like she was testing me on something else entirely. Her questions seemed off-topic about my willingness to take on tasks that pushed limits.
“So, Samira, how far are you willing to go for success?” Priya asked, her voice cold and probing. “If a client makes demands beyond what’s comfortable for you, how do you handle it? How much can you push yourself to complete a duty, no matter how unpleasant?”
My mind raced. Was she implying what I thought she was? Nadia’s words echoed in my head. Use your assets. Could Priya be hinting that this job was about more than just organizing events?
Her questions kept nudging me toward the same realization. I had to be prepared for anything, no matter how degrading or humiliating it might feel. Eventually, Priya gave a nod, indicating I had passed whatever strange test this was.
“Well, Samira,” she finally said, her tone softening, “you’re selected. The salary is lower than average, but there are plenty of incentives… if you know how to earn them.” Her smile was cold, knowing. It left no doubt in my mind what those “incentives” were.
With no other options, I swallowed my pride and agreed. “I’ll take it,” I said, forcing a smile. I had no idea how deep I was about to sink into this world. As soon as I walked out of the office, I dialled Nadia’s number and filled her in.
“The interviewer was a woman, Priya Mehta,” I told her. “She said the salary’s low, but there are ‘incentives.’” I could almost hear Nadia smirking through the phone.
“Ah, Priya,” Nadia said knowingly. “She’s tough, but she knows how to get what she wants. And don’t worry, Samira—you’re playing your cards right. Priya’s one of the reasons that company is so successful. Just follow her lead, and you’ll understand soon enough.”
Later that evening, I received the official offer letter via email. It confirmed that my start date would be in four days. Not much time to prepare, but I had no choice. I needed this job, and I needed to make it work.
With four days to get everything in order, my attention turned to finding a new place to live. Zara had done more than enough by letting me stay with her. But now her fiancé was coming back, and she made it clear I had to move out.
“I’m sorry, Samira,” Zara said, her voice hesitant but firm. “I’ve helped you all I can, but now it’s time for you to stand on your own. You understand, right?” I couldn’t argue. Zara had been a lifesaver, but I couldn’t burden her any longer. Desperate to find a place, I went online and started searching for brokers.
I found one who seemed promising—a Hindu guy named Ravi Kapoor. We spoke briefly. He asked me to come to his office the next day at noon to discuss potential apartments. There was something odd in his tone when he asked if I was Muslim, almost as if he was intrigued.
I shrugged it off, not thinking much of it at the time. But the way he spoke made me feel like there was more to him than met the eye. For now, all I could do was wait for tomorrow. I didn’t have many clothes left. Almost everything was packed, and I was running out of time.
The next day, I got ready to meet the broker. I chose a traditional outfit that clung to my figure. I wore a tight-fitting white salwar kameez with a high slit on the side, which accentuated my peach-shaped ass. The kameez had a plunging neckline that revealed just a hint of my ample cleavage.
Beneath the kameez, I wore a matching white bra that provided just enough support to highlight my full breasts, with the cups barely concealing my nipples. My panties were a simple white thong. They left little to the imagination and complemented the transparency of the kameez when it got wet.
The outfit was meant to make an impression, though the thought of it becoming transparent made me uneasy.
I reached Ravi’s office on time. He greeted me with a smile that lingered just a bit too long. “Good morning, madam. I found a flat that might work for you. It’s about an hour away from here, but the rent is reasonable.”
“An hour away?” I repeated, trying to hide my disappointment. “What about something closer?”
“The rents closer to the city are way too high,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid this is the best option for your budget. We can go check it out, though I don’t have a car today. We’ll take my bike.”
I hesitated but nodded, not wanting to push further. We headed out, and as I climbed onto the bike behind Ravi, I could feel the tension rising. Ravi’s hands occasionally brushed against my ass as he manoeuvred the bike. Every bump in the road provided an excuse for him to lean back into me.
I was uncomfortable, but I focused on the flat instead. When we arrived, the building looked nice, a decent society, and the flat itself was well-maintained. I could see myself living there. But the moment we entered, Ravi turned to me with a sly smile.
“The rent is a bit higher than what we discussed. It’s slightly over your budget.” He paused, watching for my reaction. I frowned. “But you said it was within my range.”
“Well, we can talk to the owner tomorrow. I’m sure something can be arranged. Maybe we can get the rent down,” he added with a smirk that made my skin crawl. Feeling uneasy, I excused myself to check the bathroom. As I turned on the tap to wash my hands, the water splashed onto me, drenching my outfit.
My white kameez became see-through, revealing the outline of my white bra and the wet fabric clinging to my body. My nipples hardened against the wet fabric. My thong was visible through the transparent material.
When I came out of the bathroom, Ravi’s eyes were glued to me. His gaze was predatory, roaming over my wet body with a hunger that made me shudder. I could feel his intentions without him having to say a word.
“Can you get the rent lowered?” I asked, trying to divert his attention, but his smirk only grew wider.
“Like I said, I’ll talk to the owner tomorrow,” he replied, his voice dripping with insinuation. “I’m sure something can be worked out if you… give your best effort.” His eyes never left my breasts, which were now visible through the wet fabric.
I quickly dried off, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as the weight of the situation settled in. I understood what was happening now. When Ravi dropped me back at his office, his parting words were loaded with suggestions.
“Remember, madam, it’s all about giving your best if you want that rent lowered.”
Next Part: The Price of Desire: Samira’s Temptation – Part 2