Slave to the Brew: Coffee and Chains

 

In quiet Meadowgrove, nestled between rolling hills, “Brew Haven” hums with roasted coffee and clattering mugs. Mia, a 20-year-old barista with vivid hazel eyes and freckles dusting her nose, works the counter with a smooth grace. Her auburn ponytail swings, apron streaked with flour from scones she bakes to stretch her slim paycheck. She’s got a bright smile for the regulars—old Mr. Hensley with his black coffee, Mrs. Carter with her chai latte. A social work student at the local college, she pulls late-night study sessions and early shifts, fueled by a foster-kid past and a caseworker’s faith she’s hell-bent on proving right.

The shop’s her anchor, but it’s barely enough. Rent’s crushing her tiny studio, overdue notices pile up next to textbooks she can’t afford, and Brew Haven’s low wage plus skimpy tips leave her short. She’s been skipping meals, stomach rumbling through the quiet stretches. One afternoon, golden light shining across the polished floor, Tom Griffin steps up.

Tom’s 60, rugged, salt-and-pepper hair—a Brew Haven staple, like the worn leather chairs. Knew her logger dad, gone since she was ten. Always gruff but solid, slipped her twenty bucks for a prom dress when her foster mom couldn’t swing it. Lately, he’s around more, brown eyes sliding off her face, tracing her hips, her chest, like he’s already got dibs. She’d brushed it off; he was Mr. Griffin, after all, not some creep.

“You’ve got a gorgeous smile, Mia,” he said, his voice low and syrupy as he slid a scrap of paper with his number across the wood. “I’ve got a job for you tonight—extra cash. Call me if you’re interested.” His fingers lingered on the note, brushing hers, a touch too long to be casual.

Mia’s stomach fluttered, a mix of flattery and a faint, nagging unease. “Mr. Griffin, I… I’m not sure…” she stammered, her fingers pausing on the rag. She’d always trusted Mr. Griffin—his gruff kindness, his big tips, his prom dress twenty—but lately, his roaming eyes stirred a quiet unease she couldn’t shake. Still, he’d never crossed a line, not really.

“It’s easy money,” he pressed, leaning closer, his charm softening the edges of his words. “You’re struggling with bills, right? I’ve seen you counting those tips like they’re gold. Think it over.” He tapped the paper once, then stepped back, leaving the offer hanging in the air like a lure.

She pocketed the note, his words echoing as she wiped tables later. Rent was overdue, textbooks loomed, and her bank account dwindled. Tom was handsome, familiar—maybe he just wanted company, a flirtation, or at worst, something like a blowjob. The thought sent a shiver of excitement through her, tinged with unease. She’d always found his ruggedness alluring, but this felt different, riskier. Still, the promise of cash tempted her. After her shift, she stood in front of her mirror, wrestling with the decision. Her reflection in a pale yellow sundress—floral, flirty, ending mid-thigh—stared back, innocent yet tempting. She could back out, stay safe, but the weight of poverty tipped the scale. With a shaky breath, she applied lip gloss and left.

 

Tom greeted her at his door with a grin. “You came. You look adorable, Mia.”

“You’ll pay me, right?” she asked, voice small, clutching her purse.

“Absolutely,” Tom said, handing her a glass of wine with a warm smile. They settled onto his living room couch, the room dim with the light from a single lamp. He leaned back, casual yet attentive, asking about her studies, her dreams of becoming a social worker. Mia sipped the rich, red wine, its heat loosening the knot of nerves in her chest. His dark eyes—familiar from countless coffee shop chats—held hers, making her feel seen, even special. She rambled about late-night study sessions and her favorite professors, his nods and gentle questions drawing her in.

After her second glass, the room softened, her guard slipping. Tom set his drink down and stretched, his tone light. “You know, I’ve got something cool to show you—part of the gig I mentioned. Wanna see?” He stood, offering his hand with that same easy charm she’d always trusted.

Her pulse quickened, a mix of curiosity and wine-fueled boldness urging her forward. “Okay, sure,” she said, taking his hand, her small fingers dwarfed by his calloused grip. He led her down a hallway, past framed photos and a closed office door, chatting idly about a woodworking hobby.

“Made something myself recently,” he added, a hint of pride in his voice. It felt normal, safe—like a tour from a family friend.

He pushed open his bedroom door, the space dim with only a bedside lamp casting shadows. A large bed dominated the room, but near its foot stood a low, padded bench gleamed with polished wood and leather, its subtle metal rings catching the light.

Mia blinked, tilting her head. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice catching slightly, innocence clashing with a flicker of unease.

My latest project—a custom rig for letting go,” he said, patting it with a grin that edged too sharp. “Intense stress relief—thought you’d enjoy a taste.” His tone was casual, almost playful, as he patted the cushioned surface. “Go on, check it out.”

Mia hesitated, her sundress swishing as she shifted her weight. “Stress relief?” she echoed, glancing at him. Maybe this was some quirky rich-guy thing, like a massage table. The wine dulled her caution, and she nodded, stepping forward. “Okay, I guess…”

“Perfect,” he said, guiding her with a hand on her shoulder. “Bend over it—feels better that way,” he suggested, his voice still smooth.

She complied, leaning forward awkwardly, her hands bracing on the padded leather, her hips pressing against the edge. The position felt odd, her dress riding up slightly, but before she could straighten, Tom knelt beside her, his touch gentle as he lifted her wrist.

“Gotta secure you so you don’t slip—safety first,” he looped soft rope around her wrist, securing it to the bench, then mirrored it with the other, her arms pinned forward.

Mia’s breath hitched, a nervous laugh escaping. “Wait, what? Secure me?” Her other wrist followed, the rope snug but not painful, pinning her arms forward. She tugged lightly, testing it, her heart starting to race. “Mr. Griffin, this feels… weird.”

“Just part of the experience,” he murmured, moving to her ankles. His hands turned firm, guiding her legs apart as he fastened them to the bench’s lower rings, locking her in place. Her body bent fully over now, her ass raised, her dress sliding higher to bare her thighs, the cool air prickling her skin. “Trust me, Mia, it’s all fun.”

“What are you doing?” she cried, panic surging as the ropes held her tight, her vulnerable position sinking in.

Tom straightened, his calm unshaken. “Relax, Mia. We’ll all enjoy this.”

The door creaked open, and two men—his friends, both older, grizzled, and weathered—stepped in, their eyes raking over her bound, bent-over form with raw, predatory hunger.

“She’s hotter than you described,” the hulking one growled, his bulge straining his jeans, his voice rough with decades of grit.

The wiry man beside him licked his lips, his lean frame tense with anticipation. “That young skin—fuck, I can’t wait to taste her.”

“Please, let me go! I just needed money!” Mia sobbed, tears brimming in her wide, panicked eyes, her voice trembling against the horror of her situation, her wrists straining uselessly against the restraints pinning her to the bench.

Tom leaned close, his breath hot against her ear, his tone a twisted promise. “Just relax, you’re going to love it Mia,” he whispered, his brown eyes glinting as the trap snapped shut. He stepped back, leaving space for his buddies to take over, their old faces twisted with something evil as they edged toward her, her small, trembling figure caught in the middle.

The larger man stepped forward first, unzipping to reveal a thick, veiny cock, already leaking precum, the coarse gray hairs at its base standing out against Mia’s smooth, pale skin.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he rasped, gripping her jaw with rough, calloused hands.

Mia resisted, clamping her lips shut, but he forced them apart, sliding his throbbing length into her mouth. Her lips stretched wide, her gag reflex kicking in as he thrust slowly, savoring her warm, wet heat.

“Fuck, that tongue,” he groaned, stroking her hair with surprising gentleness as she choked, spit dribbling down her freckled chin. He pulled back, teasing her lips with the tip, then plunged deeper, hitting the back of her throat.

“That’s it…good girl,” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he fucked her mouth, her muffled whimpers vibrating against him.

The skinnier man knelt beneath her, lifting her sundress to expose her white lace panties, the fabric damp with her unwilling arousal. He tugged them aside, his leathery hands gripping her soft thighs, spreading them wide.

“Look at this young pussy,” he muttered, his breath ragged as he leaned in, kissing her inner thighs with dry, hungry lips.

He dragged his tongue along her skin, tasting her, then flicked it over her clit, slow and deliberate. “So sweet,” he rasped, his voice gravelly as he latched onto her, sucking her clit hard, drawing a reluctant moan from her throat.

Her hips twitched despite her protests, her body betraying her as he devoured her, his tongue darting inside her folds, lapping at her juices.

“Please stop!” she gasped around the cock in her mouth, but he only chuckled, burying his face deeper, sucking and kissing her pussy like a man starved, his nose pressed against her pubic area.

Tom watched, stroking himself through his pants, but he couldn’t resist joining in. He dropped to his knees behind her, his hands spreading her ass cheeks wide, exposing her tight, puckered hole.

“Such a perfect little ass,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent as he leaned in, kissing the soft flesh of her cheeks, his lips trailing closer to her rim.

Mia twisted and squirmed like a nervous little thing, her stomach all knotted up, “N-no, Mr. Griffin—not my ass, please!” Her voice came out small and squeaky, her cheeks burning with shame at the weird, gross feeling of him down there.

But he didn’t give a shit about her whiny little begs—his tongue darted out, flicking that tiny hole, teasing it sloppy before sucking it like candy, then harder, his spit dripping as he shoved his face in deep. It felt so wrong, so icky, making her wiggle and whine—yet a sneaky, shivery tingle started creeping up her spine, hot and yummy despite how much she hated it.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he groaned into her, his tongue probing deeper, violating her in a way that made her sob louder, her body trembling under the assault of their mouths.

The larger man pulled back from her mouth, his cock dripping with her spit, and bent down to her chest. He yanked her dress down, exposing her perky, young breasts, her nipples hardening in the cool air.

“These tits—Goddamn,” he muttered, his gray-streaked beard brushing her skin as he kissed across her chest, his lips closing around one nipple. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing her, then moved to the other, leaving wet, red marks on her pale flesh.

Mia whimpered, “Please, don’t—,” but her pleas only spurred him on, his mouth relentless.

The skinnier man, still between her legs, shifted lower, kissing down her thighs before lifting her hips slightly, his lips finding her ass next. He sucked at her cheeks, then spread them with his bony fingers, his tongue diving in to join Tom’s earlier work, sucking and licking her tight hole with a lustful craze.

“Sweetest ass I’ve ever tasted,” he rasped, his voice muffled as he ate her out, his tongue plunging deep, making her cry out in shame and overstimulation. Together, they kissed and sucked every inch of her young body—her pussy, her ass, her breasts—leaving her slick and trembling, her skin marked by their rough, eager mouths.

Tom stood, wiping his lips, his dark brown eyes glinting with hunger.

“I think it’s time to give her a proper fucking,” he said, stepping behind her.

He yanked her panties down fully, letting them fall to her ankles, exposing her slick, trembling flesh completely. His cock—long, thick, and rock-hard—grazed her clit, teasing her soaked pussy dripping from their oral stimulation.