Every day I go to the site of the meter of the CM direction of Mark Desadov under the nickname "Rybka". Visitors asked me everything, what am I doing on such a site, how did I get to such a life ...

Hello, my name is Ulya R., I am now 24, I live in Ohio, USA. You can take a word for it - far from being a fearless man))) When I walk down the street in the summer - all the men look around and escort with their eyes.

Every day I go to one SM site under the nickname "Rybka". Visitors asked me everything, what am I doing on such a site, how did I get to such a life ...). I answer.

6 years ago lived in Belarus. After school, she entered the institute, she studied for a year. In Belarus, then began the restoration of communism, unspoken anti-Semitism. From the 5th point we got out, as my mother called, I was crying. And she, too, is not sweet - three women - still grandmother and my sister Fenk, 15 years old. Pogroms were afraid ...

Then my grandmother's sister, who left for the United States back in the 70s, sent an invitation ... All four of them ran away.

Now evaluate the situation. 18-year-old girl, almost no language. Sister even went to school, she learned there (by the way, the first words are a local mate). What is it to me? After the 1st course go to medical school? Without language and money? Like many women immigrants settled with my mother at home to clean. It goes without saying, among the Russians, who came a long time and were Americanized (Jews from the USSR are also “Russians” here). In the morning we went to English courses from the Jewish community, and after them went to work. Fenka also often helped after school. So, after a month or two, some owners who worked together in a construction company recommended us to their boss, Boris. So we appeared there. The office is much easier to clean than the apartment. Yes, and payment is more substantial. So twice a week we are there. The boss is Russian, but he arrived at the age of two, so 99% American, only spoke good Russian. Often stayed after work, summed up, dealt with papers, made plans for tomorrow, all that ... So he saw us all the time. You can imagine ... a pretty girl in tight sweatpants and a thin T-shirt with see-through nipples in a lotus pose washes the floors. And Boris is somewhere between 32 and 33. So that erection in full. Several times paid attention. Confused, of course. Immediately glance away.

He could almost fuck me almost in the first week of work, I would be afraid to say a word. But in the US, sexual harassment of subordinates is prosecuted, sexual harassment is called. Even if the president and intern from the White House. So he decided otherwise, sort of like, on a voluntary basis. Somewhere in two or three weeks I chose a day when my mother could not come, there was an apoment to the doctor. He invited me to the office, gave me tea with sandwiches, asked around how things were and everything ... and then made a business proposal ... he becomes my “manager” - he takes to his 2nd secretary, arranges for courses on language, computer , it will be good to pay, it will dress-obuet, and so on. And I fully obey him, become his mistress, kept woman, slave. And I will accompany him on business trips and negotiations with clients. I look at him with bulging eyes, even at first did not understand what he was talking about. And how it is possible so - right away, without any courting, at least ... As it came, it was a shock. Gave him a slap in the face, immediately ran away. A bucket of dirty water, a mop, a vacuum cleaner, threw everything in the middle of the corridor, he then cleaned it himself. Before me, only one guy was - Genka. He also deprived me of virginity, and was going to marry him, but my mother dissuaded. Then he went to the army, volunteered for Chechnya, and disappeared there. And then we left ...

She came running home, her face was on fire, I didn’t think anything. On the bed, face the pillow. In tears. Good thing, no one at home. Got dead, began to think. To agree to such humiliation, of course, is impossible. But Boris can refuse to clean the office, and this is very good money in our position. Already felt an increase.He paid the advance from the very beginning, then weekly ... Yes, and we lived, like all the emigrants, in an old dirty apartment. I think there used to be either Mexicans, or Puerto Ricans, in general, Latinos. The rooms remained dirty, no matter how we cleaned, and it smelled like drugs. Yes, Grandma needs medications, but Fenka and I are 2 young girls who are well-dressed to hunt and take a walk and all that ... In short, the night roared, Fenka still asked what happened to me ... . Two more days just thought about it. I walk, as from this world. I tend to one solution, then to another.

The main thing - you will not consult with anyone. I decided to finally agree ... What was left to do?

Chapter 1.

Consent.

They came next time to get out, I'm waiting for the moment. Mom went to the far end of the corridor to wash the toilet, I - in the office. With a vacuum cleaner, of course, so that no suspicion. I turned it on again, then surely nothing will be heard behind the wall. Even if mom and fit. There can be no one else, the work day is over, everyone’s gone. The last Marina left, the secretary, - I'll tell you about her later. She closed the door behind her, then snapped it shut again. Boris looked up from the papers, looking at me. Is silent. I come closer. Heart pounding, is about to jump out of his chest. Cheeks are burning. As in the fog all. I stop. And the words are stuck. I open my mouth, I can not speak. She took a deep breath, held her breath. Breathed out. Easier.

“Yes,” I whisper.

- What "yes"? - looks up at me. Actually understood, of course. So just asking. That I myself said everything.

- Agree. On your offer.

Smiles Satisfied. The fact that everything went as he wished. And that said all the same.

- Umnichka, - he says, - I knew that you would agree.

Looks at me, silent. I still stand, I do not know what's next. I worry about it more and more. Not only the cheeks are burning, the neck too. My heart is already pounding, that the pulse is loud in my ears, I can not hear anything else. I remember that my stomach even got a little sick. I also thought that maybe it had begun, although it was a bit early in terms - only a week later. And Boris is holding a pause, sitting at the table as he is sitting. A few minutes like that. Then he says ...

- Well, we appreciate your agreement. T-shirt up. Show what's under it.

It is a shame, of course, immediately before him to burn. If I came up, hugged first. And then just like that, at a distance. But here I am glad a little that the silence is over. That at least some certainty. I look up to my shoulders, my bare breasts look at him. Head lowered, staring at the floor in embarrassment. And he continues ...

- Now pants. Only do not lower a T-shirt.

Chin squeezed. My knee-longs exercised. I have white panties unpretentious. Clean, of course, changed right, how to get out of the house. There is no beautiful linen, with money, you know ... And if it were, beautiful, I couldn’t wear it anyway - we change clothes together with mom, then the questions would be right away. Understand, of course, that it comes to the laundry, did not expect just that. That he was lounging in his chair, and I stand in front of him about three meters away, half naked. Well, "semi-", it did not last long. Through the thundering heartbeats I hear ...

- Go on. Panties...

Neither alive nor dead I stand. But she herself agreed, nothing to do. Ashamed to death. And the hands themselves panties down. Looks at my pubis studying. Is silent. Then...

- Do not shave, then?

Head negatively shook. Is he...

- Turn around.

This is what my ass wants to see. Yes, it's all the same, of course. I stand with my back to it.

- Bend down. And spread your legs.

Yes, I think, here the business of one ass is not limited. What is under it, too, must be exposed. But she herself agreed to the “slave”, it is necessary to fulfill the requirement of the “slaveholder”. Bend down, okay. But how to place the legs, I wonder if I'm hobbled - knees on my sweatpants ...