The Super's Daughter-in-Law free porn video

The Supers' Daughter-In-Law ONE The basement seemed deserted, as was usually the case so early in the morning... I was running a little late in my normal morning rituals of dumping the garbage and then heading out to the corner Deli for coffee and bagel before heading back indoors again to start work. I was a writer- slash- cartoonist, working freelance, which gave me a lot of free time and allowed me to work from home rather than have to go out into the 9-to-5 drudgery with the rest of the world. I was good- at least I used to be, before, but I had yet to find a steady job at a company that I wanted to work for, and of course, wanted me working for them. There were lean times, but for the most part I got the bills paid and the rent on my SRO. At the time, coincidentally, I was doing some work for a Bondage Newspaper. It was questionable stuff, soft porn really I suppose, at least in the minds of some people. It didn't matter to me really, as one job was the same as any other so long as I got paid, and at that moment, that was the important thing. Actually I was rather intrigued by the subject matter, and I had to admit that some of the magazines that I had been given for reference excited me more than a little bit. It wasn't so much the whole 'scene'. At least I don't think so. The models were gorgeous, and I had always had a thing for women's legs and feet and shoes. It was more the humiliation I think, which I suppose played on my foot fetish angle as well as some things that had happened growing up. Whatever, I had developed a serious little group of fantasies from some of the stories and images in the magazines, and unfortunately- being unattached at the time- had more than a little ability to indulge with five of my best personal friends in the privacy of my tiny apartment. One thing did lead to another, however... Stepping off of the elevator and into the long dim hallway I noticed the damp, rank smell of garbage coming from the far end first thing. It was humid out, and the stone walls of the basement were slick and slimy with grease and age old dirt. The basement had always reminded me more than a little of a dungeon I have to admit. There was an old bomb shelter- a hold over from the fifties Cold War though I think it was mainly used for storage now- thus the stone walls. Dirty pipes dripped rusty water from the ceiling, and there always a rank odor lingering, the stench of rotten cabbage and sweat socks, like a locker room. The elevator emptied off into what was a shadowy, filthy little corridor that led off in two directions. To the right was the apartment of the building's Super. He lived there with either his wife or sister, I was never quite certain, and a young son, the smallest of two. I hadn't seen him in weeks though, and I had the feeling that he had another job that kept him busy most of the time as the garbage room downstairs always seemed a mess and over-flowing. His wife- slash- sister was still around however, and I saw her quite a bit in the afternoons standing outside and waiting on the kid to come home from school. In the other direction was the garbage room, the laundry room and another apartment that belonged to the Super's son and his wife. He was nice, Hispanic and about my age though I think I was a bit older by a year or two. Again I hardly saw him about, though I saw his wife quite a lot whenever I came downstairs later in the day to do my laundry or dump some garbage. She seemed nice and was pretty, Spanish as well. She always said 'hello' in passing, and I asked 'how you doing', and that was the extent of our relationship- at the time at any rate. I cursed under my breath as I headed down the hallway, hearing the elevator's inner door rumble and slam shut, the motors whining as the car rose slowly up into the building. Odds were that it was heading to the sixth floor, as it always seemed to do when I went to the basement later in the day. I sighed, shaking my head and resigned to the long wait I would have before it came back down. The garbage room was filthy as expected. Even with the windows open, the smell was awful and sour with huge black bags over-flowing the four rubber cans lining one wall. People had started simply piling stuff up on the chipped stone floor around the cans in a haphazard heap, and I'm sorry to say that I joined in as the cans were heaping. The recycle area was filled and brimming as well with stacks of paper and bags of cans, bottle and plastic dumped in piles against the far corner. There were cardboard boxes off to the other side, as well as discarded and broken furniture, old light stands, stacks of book, cracked Tupperware bowls, the cast off of Chelsea's finest. The list went on and on. Being a bachelor and none too proud I of course glanced at the refuse looking to see if there was anything that I could possibly use. One man's garbage is another's treasure they say- though I've never actually heard anyone say it. I heard the elevator pause finally, then start up again after a moment, on its way back down from six. I took a final look at a little, wobbly table then headed back towards the elevator. I heard a loud click as I passed the laundry room though, one of the dryers, and I looked in. I was surprised that there was someone up and about doing their wash already, even though it was after eight, actually closer to nine. Most of the people in my building were either out by that time or didn't get moving until noon I had learned, seeing the same faces most every day. Those people going to work by nine was the reason the elevator was usually tied up, as the lazy bastards on the upper floors were too put out and self-important to take the stairs, which I would have done except that the outer basement door was usually locked from the courtyard behind the building to keep out the riff-raff. It was a fire exit really, and the Super was the only one that used it. The laundry room was dark as the lights were on a timer switch, but I could see the fading glow of the indicator light of one of the machines that had just shut off. I heard the slam of a door on the first floor and the clack of heels overhead and knew that I should just go, but... The elevator started up into the building again, so I headed into the laundry room. I turned the switch and saw the room, not so different from the rest of the basement. It was big, with four washers shoved against one weathered wall and three old dryers lining another with just a bit of space behind for maintenance. There was a table for sorting clothes and a couple plastic baskets on that, two benches and two windows flanking the dryers. There was another door that was always locked and had no handle, a closet I assumed. The ceiling was criss- crossed with piping and air ducts, as well as power meters for most of the building's apartments lining two of the walls. There was a huge gaping hole over one of the dryers from a bad leak years past that had never been properly fixed. There was a scrubbing sink next to the washers, and a big, plastic garbage pail next to that half-filled with detergent boxes and bottles. Too, the smell of the garbage was in the room, it was so close, despite the fact that the windows were flung wide open. The elevator was still rumbling as I approached the stopped machine and peered through the convex window. I licked my lips and looked around nervously as though expecting hidden cameras to be pointing my way. I was alone, but I was sweating bullets in the humidity and my anxieties were running rampant. I was shaking as I glanced over my shoulder again, then opened the dryer door. I delicately pulled out a shining pair of silky gold panties. They were skimpy, almost a thong, and it was that, which had first caught my attention and called me into the room. I suppose it was the magazines and the stories and pictures therein that had fueled my courage, but as I held up the panties I knew that I was done. They were beautiful and clean, and I tried to imagine whom they might belong to as I held them up to my face and breathed in that fresh, laundered smell. I jumped, turning quickly upon hearing a door slam, but then the elevator groaned to life again and I sighed in relief. I was shaking from the moment and sweating bullets as I returned my attention to the silky soft under ware in my hand. It was intoxicating, feeling the soft material against my face, wondering who owned them and where they might have been. Well, I knew where they had been, but you understand... I jumped again, actually crying out in surprise at the sudden flash of light that illuminated the room and cast my shadow starkly on the dryers. I spun about, eyes wide only to be blinded by another brilliant flare. And another as I staggered back, blinking and rubbing at the spots dancing in my sight, just making matters worse. I realized then that I still had the panties in hand and quickly lowered my arms to a fourth flash. I resigned to stand there stupidly as my vision swam, the glowing spots slowly fading. I could see a shadowy figure coming into focus standing in the doorway of the laundry room. After a moment I could tell that it was a woman, and in another few seconds I recognized her. She was tall- taller than I was actually as I was only about five and a half feet- and her body was tight, well muscled and in great shape I could tell at a quick glance. She had long, lean legs and a trim waist with a full bosom hovering over all. Her skin was a dark gold, tanned from the summer sun and she had her kinky red hair pulled up and twisted in a bun at the back of her head, off of her neck. She was wearing short, denim shorts and a darker blue shell top that scooped at her breasts and showed off great cleavage- did I mention her ample bosom before, and her stiff nipples? She had on huge golden hoop earrings and just a little make-up to accentuate her natural beauty; dark, smoky eyes of brown and full red lips. She was staring daggers at me I saw, her brows knitted and those lips twisted into a sneer of disgust that wrinkled her nose a bit as she looked me up and down. I couldn't meet her scrutiny or hold her gaze from embarrassment and looked down to her feet, clad in dark blue leather casuals. I licked my lips, shivering slightly and oddly excited. I had been caught, and I could feel my penis swelling as humiliation washed over me in a hot wave, causing me to blush. It was the Super's daughter-in-law, just in case you hadn't seen where this was going yet. As I said, she lived in the near apartment in the basement, and what I had thought was the elevator door a floor above before must have been hers instead. She was staring at me with a look of hatred, and I noticed as I tried to look at her face again that she was holding out her cell phone, and I realized then what had happened. She had been taking my picture as I had been sniffing the panties from the dryer. I was so busted... "I fuckin' knew it," she said as she lowered the phone and planted her hands on her shapely hips. Her eyes were crackling with anger, and I realized then that the laundry I had invaded must be hers. "I told Roberto that someone was stealing my panties, but he just laughed it off." She snorted, smirking as she stared me down again. "I never would have figured it was you." "I wasn't-" I started, but she cut me off quick. "Shut up," she said strolling into the room and looking about. I could not believe that I was being accused of stealing panties. That was the first time I had ever done such a thing, and I had not even considered taking the under ware- at least not yet. I was being blamed for someone else's crime. There was someone else in the building with a bigger fetish than me. She stopped right in front of me, looking me up and down with a sneer as I blushed. I didn't know what to do as she placed a hand on her hip and held up her phone again, looking at it. "I ought'a call the police right now. I have all I need to get you locked up. Hell I know the cops won't hold you long, but imagine what would happen in jail to a pervert like you. And you won't be staying here anymore, freak, be sure of that. That I CAN do something about, you sick fuck," she spat as her thumb drifted over the 'Send' button on her cell phone. I could only imagine that she had 9-11 on 'speed dial', or maybe even the local precinct. I stared at her thumb, the long, sculpted nail painted a soft metallic pink as it drifted over the tiny keypad on the phone. I shivered in fright, afraid of what she might do. She was right of course, and I could only imagine what the other inmates in jail might do to me, a wimp arrested for sniffing panties that I had pilfered from a dryer in the laundry room. I would have to stay twenty-four hours at least, as I couldn't afford a lawyer, and god knows what could happen in a day. I would be some thug's bitch for sure and duked up the ass constantly until I was released. Whenever that might be. I had horrors imagining being arrested for something I had never done, a name similar to mine popping out on a computer and me being locked away forever like that poor guy in that Pacino movie from the seventies. "Please..." I whined, but she just gave me a hard, cold look. Her name was Kristen or Christine, I couldn't really recall though I had heard her husband call her Chris once. "Christine..." I said, hoping I had guessed right, "Please. It wasn't me. I didn't- I haven't been stealing panties..." It sounded pathetic even as I said it, and I could tell by the look on her face that she didn't believe me. She held up her phone, shook it at me- "Yeah, right. I've got the evidence right here, and I know the cops won't believe you either. You're sick. Better I get you arrested. God knows how many women you've stole from in the building. How many panties you got, huh?" "None!' I shouted and she stepped back a bit. I licked my lips and hung my head, trying not to panic. "This was the first, and I wasn't stealing. I-" "Liar!" My eyes went wide as she held her phone out at me like a weapon. Her thumb played at the keyboard, hovering and barely hesitant. I didn't know what to do to prove my case. I was fucked. My eyes widened when Christine suddenly held out her hand. I realized that she wanted the panties that were still dangling loosely in my fingers. I raised my arm feeling a bit of hope- She grabbed my hand, her fingers pressing into my thumb as she twisted and drove me to my knees. I moaned as the pain washed over me, agonizing in my hand and thumb and coupled with the shock that shot through my legs as I dropped to the hard, cracked stone at her feet. She twisted all the harder and tears welled in my eyes. "Sick fuck," she spat again, twisting casually and forcing me lower. "Ahh..." I whined, looking up and seeing her staring down at me with a commanding smirk. She seemed to be enjoying my pain and humiliation, but her hand still held the phone. I gasped- "Please..." I whined as she gritted her teeth, applying more pressure. My forehead hit the floor as I whimpered, crying freely now at the pain. I begged, "Please... Stop... I'll d-do anything..." I felt the pressure ease off for a moment, just a tiny bit. "Anything?" I sensed more than saw through my tear filled haze her slim foot slide forward right under my face. My head was so low that I could smell the worn leather of her shoe, the odors of her foot's sweat and whatever powders or lotions that she used. I stared at her shoe right beneath me, saw her toes wiggle under the leather as she waited. I wondered what she wanted for a second, then knew. I wondered how SHE knew. I leaned down and pressed my lips to the toecap of her navy leather casual. She did not move while I kissed her foot. She did not say a word when I started licking, cleaning the dirt from the top and sides of her shoe. She leaned back at one point and raised her foot a bit, cocking back on her heel to let me get at her sole. I licked all the harder, seeing a chance to avoid jail and make amends. I had no problem humiliating myself to avoid arrest, and in truth it was simply playing on the fantasies that I had developed over the last few days. Finally she released my hand and stepped back out of reach. I crumpled in a heap on the stone floor, holding my aching wrist and trying to control my tears. After a few moments I sniffed and gathered just enough courage to look up at her hopefully. She was standing there with her cell phone still open and in hand as she looked down. Her other hand was on her cocked hip, but she was chewing on her lower lip and giving me a long, contemplative look. She was thinking... I gasped to see her thumb press down on the keyboard of her phone. She just laughed- "Relax, stupid," she chuckled, shaking her head as though I were an idiot. "I'm not calling the police- yet. I just sent your pretty pictures off to my e-mail, and to a friend's just in case." She finally flipped the lid on her cell phone closed and clipped it to her belt loop as she stepped forward and up to my prostrate body. I was still rubbing my wrist and thumb as I looked up her forever-long legs to see her cruel smile and sparkling eyes. I sniffed back my tears. "Please..." I whined, my voice catching and I swallowed. "What are you going to do?" She smirked and squatted down before me, her dark eyes flashing with delight over my position, and hers. "It's what you're going to do, freak," she snapped as she reached out and snagged a fistful of my long, brown hair in her fist. She twisted, laughing as I squealed with a fresh wave of pain. I had always kept my sandy hair long, as I liked it that way, but it had always been my downfall as well. All through school I had had to put up with Gay jokes and more than my fair share of beatings. I wasn't tall as I said before, and I had always been slender bordering on thin. I was an easy target for the jocks and bullies at school, all the more so, as the girls seemed to like my looks. Most had always considered me pretty rather than handsome, some actually saying I was a bit effeminate. Regardless, I got dates, just one more reason for the school thugs to hate me. "It's how much you don't want to go to jail, and what you're willing to do for me. You said anything?" she smiled, her white teeth flashing in the queer light of the laundry room. I guess I was too slow in answering as she jerked my hair again causing me to gasp- "Yes!" I hissed through gritted teeth as she shook my head. "Anything!" "Good." She smirked as she released her hold on my hair, caressing my cheek with her smooth hand as she let go. She patted my face sharply and stood. "I gotta make a call. I want you to go back to your apartment- 6M right? Hey! You heard?" "6M... " I whimpered, nodding, staring at the floor at her feet. "Okay. Answer when I ask you something, bitch! Go home and wait for me- " "I have work to-" Her foot shot out and slammed into my side, knocking me to a heap on the floor again. "You got nothin' 'til I say so. Got it!" It was a statement rather than a question, and to enforce her sudden authority she leaned in and placed a foot on my shoulder. She shoved me back and I slammed up against the dryer. Despite what I had done, I didn't deserve this. I couldn't believe that I was letting this woman beat me up and order me around, but I was scared too. Jail was still a frightening option at that point at least. She placed her fists on her hips again; striking a pose that was both sexy and tough all at once. She stared down at me, her eyes crackling with fury as her lips twisted into a hateful sneer once more. "Go home now! I ought'a make you crawl up the stairs for giving me lip, but later for that. You be waiting when I come too. And take those panties, bitch. I don't want 'em anymore after your grimy hands been on 'em." I stared at the silky gold panties still crumpled in my hand. I had thought she had taken them when she had twisted my wrist, but I still had them, and had forgotten them completely. I heard her foot tapping as I struggled to rise on shaking legs, and struggled all the harder. I was sweating bullets again- still- and quivering both from fear and excitement. I was wearing blue jeans, so I doubted that she could see the tiny swelling in my crotch, but I was afraid to look down and direct her attention to it. Too, it felt damp, and I thought I was dripping. I swallowed and stared at her still tapping foot- "Go!" she snapped, then laughed as I actually ran from the room and back into the outer hallway. I charged right up to the elevator and pushed the button, hoping that it was close and unoccupied. I heard the dryer door open again back in the laundry room, though I didn't remember closing it. Maybe she had more than one load. God, my mind was awhirl, thoughts slamming randomly about my head. I heard her moving around and the dryer door finally slammed shut. The elevator rumbled to life again and I cursed, wishing it faster. I peered through the dirty little pane of glass set into the door, staring into the darkness to see a thick metal cable snaking along, looping downward and coiling in the depths- "You better be gone when I'm done, bitch!" God, I almost wet my pants. I saw a flicker of movement in the shaft, swirling dust as the car came into view even as I heard her footsteps. I closed my eyes, actually praying as I heard the rattle of the inner door. I looked and flung the outer door open, slamming my shoulder against the jamb in my rush to get inside. I punched the number to my floor over and over, cursing, wishing the door closed. I saw a shadow beyond the window even as the car finally started to rise. I slumped against the back wall of the car in some relief, wiping sweat from my brow and realized that I was still clutching the panties. I sighed, hoping that the car would not stop... TWO I sat pristinely, all prim and proper on the edge of my bed, waiting... I had gotten back to my little room without incident, thankfully, only seeing one of my neighbors as I unlocked my door and shoved my way inside. I slammed and locked the door again behind me, slumping back and taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. I was still shaking and sweating. My heart was beating a mile a minute and I could still feel my erection pressing for some release. I could taste dirt and grit in my mouth from her shoe, and a bit of gravel crunched as I bit down. I looked at my tiny apartment. It was an SRO- a Single Room Occupancy- and it was just barely big enough for me and the little bit of furniture that I had. A small single bed, which was barely a step up from a cot was provided, and in a small alcove there was an old, dirty sink that only ran cold water and dripped from beneath into a jar that I placed on the floor. That was where I pissed on occasion, when I was too lazy to head down the hall to the communal bath and shower in the middle of the night. Not the most sanitary conditions I know, but I kept it as clean as I could. There was a tiny refrigerator too, barely big enough to hold a six-pack of cans and a package of cheese. Right then I believe there were two cans of beer and a half loaf of bread within. Maybe some packets of ketchup. There was a slim closet that had a couple small shelves and a space to hang a few shirts in a cramped space against the far side wall and three tiny cabinets above the alcove stuffed with junk like my iron and blow-dryer, a few pots and pans and a hot plate, a Mister Coffee machine. There was a window on the back wall and a stand-pipe running floor to ceiling connected to a small radiator that provided a little warmth in the winter. As far as furniture went, I had a dresser angled in the corner, and it was heaping with junk like magazines and clothes, boxes and a rack containing the month's unpaid bills. All the drawers were stuffed with clothes and books with little room left, not that I bought anything new. That was a rarity, beyond shoes, of which I had three pair; one dress for nice, a pair of tennis shoes and a pair of casual loafers. At the foot of my bed on a small table sat my laptop. That was where I did the bulk of my work, writing and such. I had a phone but used it mainly to order in food and to connect to the Internet. I had a scanner as well, for when I needed to scan in a drawing I had done, situated in its box under the table. Beneath my bed I kept my drawing pads and other things that I needed for my work; an over-sized clip board for support when I worked, a set of paints and graphite chunks, pastels and the usual ruler and compass, erasers, things like that. Too, I had the bondage magazines shoved under there, as well as a few other books I used for anatomy and references for positioning and things like cars and animals, buildings and landscapes. You never know what you might need, and I had gathered a decent library over the years. When I finally got moving I tossed the panties on the bed, only then worrying that my neighbor might have seen the golden silk crumpled in my hand in the hallway and recognized it for what it was. I shook my head, something to worry over later and took a long look about. I was not a neat person, but too, I was not a slob. I never had company, so there were things sitting about that I never worried about before, or even noticed. There were soda bottles and beer cans- though not too many of the latter as I had never held my liquor well. There was no garbage, or little, as I dropped anything that might draw roaches as soon as I could. I dropped the bottles into the recycle bag, then dropped that bag into the half-empty trash can shoved under the sink. I picked up a few articles of laundry that I had yet to do: shorts and socks and a sweat-stained shirt, and stuffed that lot into one of my dresser drawers. I made sure that all of my magazines- bondage or otherwise were shoved well and away under my bed and was contemplating sticking my laptop under there as well when I heard the knock on the door almost an hour later- I licked my lips as I stared at the door, my eyes growing wide. I started to shake again as a wave of excitement washed over me, starting me to sweat again. I thought briefly about simply ignoring her, ignoring the knocking and hoping that she would just go away and forget about all of this. I knew however that she wouldn't. She had me under her thumb, and if I didn't do as she said I knew that she would have no problem calling the cops, or at least telling her father-in-law and getting me evicted. I couldn't afford a new apartment, and knowing that I lived in an SRO, she knew that as well, I imagined. I was stuck. I was just turning the bolt of the first lock as she knocked again, and I hurried. I was going to suffer even worse for making her wait. I fumbled the three locks open finally and sighed, swallowing. I opened the door. She was standing there in the hall, frowning, scowling really, as she looked me up and down, then stared into my face. She looked the same, but she was carrying a purse now; an over-sized black leather bag slung over one shoulder. "Move," she said and shoved past, barely giving me a chance to step aside and lock the door behind her. When I turned I found her sitting on the bed and looking around the tiny room. "You actually live here?" she asked as a look of disgust darkened her face. "Yes, Ma'am," I said humbly, hoping she would appreciate the respect. She smirked, looking at me. "What took you so long to open the door? This place is so small, you had to be right here by the door." "I was just cleaning up a bit. I don't get many visitors and-" "I didn't tell you to do that," she snapped. "I told you to wait. Don't listen very well do you, stupid?" "No, Ma'am," I said, hanging my head, trying to play along. I didn't know what she wanted, or where this was going, but I was starting to expect the worst. She crossed her long legs then, leaning back on her arms and swinging her leg. "Still, it has potential," she said, referring to my apartment. "Not much bigger than a cell, which is what it's gonna be from now on." She looked at me, raising an eyebrow, awaiting a reaction. I almost said something, but decided against it, waiting. She smiled- "Good. Now I was talking to a friend of mine. A cop, and she said that though no judge would probably throw the book at you for stealing panties, odds are you could figure on thirty days plus, just to teach you a lesson. Maybe more if the judge was a woman. Thirty days ain't much, but thirty days on Ryker's Island and you'd come out walking funny at least. Maybe a new man- or woman. I'm sure the other inmates would love a pretty white boy like you." She laughed cruelly at my nod of agreement. I was shaking again, and sweating, and she could see that I was nervous. She let that sink in for a minute before continuing. "Here's the deal then. You need to be punished, cuz I don't want you digging through my clothes, and I know no other woman in the building wants that either. It's invasion of privacy, and theft, an' I won't stand for it. Now I can call the cops, my friend and have you locked up, or, you can agree and I'll handle your punishment." "What do you mean?" I asked, then winced, expecting her to yell again, but she didn't. "There's things that need done around here. Things that my husband and father-in-law have to do, but they both have real jobs and can't always. That means me and Rosa- the Super's wife- have to pick up some of the slack, but we have lives too, y'know?" She continued to swing her leg casually, looking around the room while she spoke. I licked my lips as I stared at her foot, almost mesmerized by the subtle action. It almost seemed like she was hypnotizing me with the simple swinging of her leg. "I figure you can pick up that slack. You can do some of the grunt work that my family does as your punishment. Clean up the garbage. Mop the floors. Clean the bathrooms that sort of thing. Whatever needs doing." "How long?" She frowned at that, but rather than snap at me, finally shrugged. "A month, maybe more, maybe less. Depends on you and how much you want it to be over. You do a good job, and don't give me any lip; you might get time off for good behavior. You whine like you were doing downstairs and you'll get more. It's punishment, remember, and I got no problem calling the police. And remember, I sent your pictures to my friend and you do anything stupid, she'll call the cops instead." I stared at her feeling dizzy and weak. There were now two others that knew, and I imagined that the Super's wife would know soon enough as well when she saw me scrubbing floors and hauling garbage. A month... She was suggesting a month of slavery basically, under her control. And the only other option was a month in jail. At the time I could only imagine that that would be worse. "Okay," I said with a sigh, nodding in submission. She just laughed and started digging in her purse. She pulled out a manila envelope, and produced some typed papers from that- "Not that easy, bitch," she said as she tossed the papers to the floor at her feet. I sighed and bent to pick them up when she raised her leg and draped it over the back of my neck. "Down," she said, and as I got on my hands and knees to read the papers she crossed her legs at the ankles across my back. I read the papers there on my knees, feeling the weight of her legs on my back. There were five pages, all identical. One for me I assumed and one for her, and the others for her friends I guessed. They were contracts basically, complete with a confession that I had been stealing panties and that in lieu of a possible jail sentence I agreed to do penance under the authority of Christine Ruiz and any she deemed to help her for the period of at least one month, or until she decided I had paid my debt to society. There was a place at the bottom to sign my name, but I saw that it had already been notarized and dated, and officially stamped- each copy. It did not leave much question as to my rights- or lack there of, but I noticed that it did not specify what penalties I would suffer, and it left the time period a bit open ended. Too, the part about anyone she deemed could join in on my punishment. I wondered at the legality of the contract- and it was I knew as I had seen enough in my line of work- but was it legal? I noted then that it had been signed and notarized by a judge apparently; Her Honor Marion Burns. That name seemed familiar. "Well?" I heard her ask as I shifted under her weight. "Do you agree, or do I call the cops?" I sagged. "I agree..." A pen clattered on the floor in front of me and I picked it up. I bent low and signed each copy, signing my life away. When I was done I gathered the papers and pen and handed them up to her. I heard the papers ruffling as she looked at each for my signature, then clicked her tongue as she put them back into the envelope and into her purse, all but one that she left for me. She removed her legs then, planting one on the floor and crossing the other so her foot was right in my face. I leaned in, thinking that she wanted me to kiss her foot to seal the deal, but she pulled away- "Strip!" she commanded, and I glanced up to see her grinning down at me. She looked beautiful, domineering with that evil grin and her face in shadows from the overhead light. She tapped me in the chin with her foot to get me moving. "I want to see what you look like. Stand up and get your clothes off, bitch. Hurry up!" She shifted her legs aside as I stood, finally folding them beneath her on the bed as she settled in to watch me undress. I was burning with shame, though I had taken my clothes off in front of women before, it had never been like this, and the woman was usually undressing as well. There was something really humiliating about having a woman order you to undress while she remained clothed. It was an obvious show of power on her part, but it was making me hard all the same. I took off my shirt and tossed it to the floor, then knelt to undo my shoes. I chanced a glance and saw her smiling at me, leering really as she watched with a wicked grin. I stood up and undid my jeans letting them drop to the floor and kicking them aside. I then lowered my boxers, flushing red and she laughed to see what was underneath. I was not big, and even fully erect- as I was- I was barely four raging inches. "God," she snorted, "you got stuck behind the door, hunh? I've seen squirrels hold out bigger nuts than that. Ha-Hah!" It took awhile for her to regain her composure and I just stood there humiliated, at attention almost but with my head hanging low. It was the worst experience in my life as this beautiful, sexy woman laughed at my manhood, at least up to that point. This after being beaten to a pulp in school, once being shoved into a locker for three hours, pantsed in the crowded lunch room. This was the worst. I looked up when she had finally stopped laughing and saw her holding out the golden panties, dangling them on her finger. "Put these on," she said, "there's nothin' there worth looking at." I took the panties and stepped into them, slid them up my legs. I was surprised that they fit as well as they did, but then she was bigger than me in a few ways. I cupped my balls in the fabric and turned them, feeling the thin strip in the back quickly wedging in my ass. "Nice..." she cooed, eyeing me and motioning that I should spin for her. I felt her cool fingers as she adjusted them a bit, tugging at the waist and leg seams before digging her nails into my ass cheek for a nasty pinch. I yelped and spun about, but she just laughed. She leaned over and started digging in her purse again- "Turn around!" she commanded, so I turned my back to her. A second later I felt her grab my right wrist and jerk it back. There was a ripping sound and I felt her wrapping something- duct tape- about my wrist. I tried to pull away, but she slapped my panty clad ass and told me to hold still as she took my other hand and started to bind my arms behind me. I wondered what was happening, what she was planning, but it was exciting me no end all the same. After a few criss-crossing turns she ripped off the end and pressed it down. She tugged on the makeshift bonds, and apparently satisfied, spun me about again. She then stood and told me to lay down on the bed, which I did. Like I said, I was excited by this, but I was also scared, wondering what she had planned. She had obviously come prepared and full of ideas. I watched as Christine undid the clasp on her denim shorts and let them fall to the floor. I saw that she was wearing a skimpy pair of lacy black panties as she stepped out of her shorts and climbed up onto the bed to straddle me. She inched up onto my body, pinning my shoulders before she finally settled on my chest and neck with her crotch right up close to my face. She was grinning down at me as I stared up at her in confusion. Obviously I knew what was about to happen, I just did not understand why. I was supposed to be being punished wasn't I? "This will be the only time this happens for your pleasure," she said in a husky voice, licking her lips. She stared down at me, her dark eyes smoldering as she stretched back and undid the beret that held her hair in place. She shook her hair out, and I moaned at her beauty as her curly auburn hair flowed about her shoulders. There was the slightest sheen of perspiration on her skin from the heat and humidity in my apartment and it made her dark, golden skin glisten in the glare of the light overhead. She seemed an angel almost with that light behind her, casting her face in shadows but making her hair glow like a halo about her head and face. Worse, I could smell her sex as she scooted closer, getting comfortable on my captive form. I was trapped beneath her, and it was getting harder to breathe but I didn't care as I breathed deep of her womanhood. I could see the dampness in the thin fabric of her black panties and knew that the whole scene was making her hot as well. Finally she leaned forward, pressing her legs in as her crotch covered my lower face, planting her hands against the wall for support as she gasped- "Lick..." God I did. I licked for all I was worth. I don't know why I wanted her, wanted to please her, but I did. She was abusing me- hell, raping me in a way I supposed, but I didn't care. I licked, stretching my tongue as far and as hard as I could, shoving it against her thin panties and reveling in the slightest taste that I got. Her pussy was hot, on fire and dripping with excitement as she ground forward, riding my face. I felt her jerk as I rammed my nose forward, shoving my tongue against the thin fabric and touching dampness, the slick lips just out of reach. She moaned as she inched forward, pressing in, wanting it, wanting release and I just pressed all the harder. I squirmed beneath her weight as she squeezed her thighs tightly, trapping my head in a spot that she liked, forcing me to lick all the harder. I did without pause, hearing the blood rushing through my ears. She leaned back and I gasped for breath before going at it again. I felt her fingers tickling at my cock, her nails scratching, teasing. Her other hand drifted to my nipple and started to pinch and twist, causing me to buck with the pain. I nibbled at her cunt, driving my face forward and she moaned all the harder, rocking. I could feel her shoes scraping and scratching at my thighs as she locked my legs into place the better to hold me down. She arched her back, and I actually felt her hair tickling my legs. When she came forward again I drove my nose deeper, biting and grinding on her pussy. She grabbed at my hair, pulling and I screamed but she just inched forward, muffling my cries. She held me there, cursing me, urging me on- "Yes...Yes... Yes!" She screamed finally and simply collapsed, falling back onto my body. I could feel her warmth and sweat as she lay there, barely moving, moaning with the release of orgasm. I gulped for air, still smelling her sex, as her crotch was still right by my face. My cock was straining for release, pressing into her back but I doubt she even noticed. It was sometime before she sat up again and I saw that she was dripping wet, her hair matted down and her skin shining with perspiration. She was heaving, trying to get her breath and gather her composure as she stared down at me. She ran a hand back through her hair, and then I felt her fingers playing at my nipples again. "God," she gasped, smiling warmly, "you're good. Your nose..." she shivered and smiled all the wider as she pinched my nipple, making me squirm. "Please," I begged. God I wanted release, but she just smirked, dabbing at the sweat on her chest with a towel she had grabbed up from the floor as she dug her nails into my nipple. She tossed the towel aside after a bit, then took a moment to tie her damp hair back again before she leaned over and started to dig through her purse, still straddling my chest. After a moment she produced a pack of cigarettes, and then a disposable lighter and what looked like a joint from the crumpled pack. She grinned as she slipped the joint between her lips and breathed deeply as she sparked it to life. I watched her chest expand as she inhaled, holding in the smoke as she held the twisted butt down to my lips. I closed my mouth, shaking my head. Christine scowled, blowing the smoke into my face. I coughed and hacked, trying to breathe. I had never been good with drugs and alcohol. I have beer on occasion, but I get buzzed fast so generally stayed away. Maybe it was my slim frame and body, or maybe just me. I had not eaten yet though, so I knew that I would be flying quickly if I joined in. She did not seem to care. Christine slipped the joint between her lips again and took another drag even as she pressed one hand over my mouth and pinched my nostrils closed with the other. She grinned down at me as she held it in, watching me squirm as my breath quickly evaporated and I was soon squirming in her grip. She leaned in close, face to face before she released me- She pressed her lips to mine as she took her hands away, exhaling into my mouth as I gasped for air. I started choking and gasping even as she leaned back and quickly gagged me again and pinched my nose shut. I was gagging, my coughing fit caught beneath the soft flesh of her palm as she laughed, enjoying my squirming, my wide eyes. My terror as I truly thought I might die. I didn't though, and she took another long drag as she finally let me breathe, all too soon leaning in and breathing the marijuana smoke down my throat as I gasped for breath. I gagged again as she laughed, sprawling forward and licking at my throat, kissing me as I squirmed beneath her. I felt her teeth nibbling at my ear, biting and tugging as I tried to get away. Her tongue slipped into my ear and I felt my penis pulse and explode... She was whispering, urging me on as I rocked beneath her. I was gasping, trying to hold back and trying to come all at once as she slid the joint into my mouth. I gagged, too late, sucking in the smoke as she laughed again, digging her tongue into that soft spot under my jaw and making me quiver. "C'mon, baby," she cooed, "breathe... take it in..." She clapped her hand over my mouth, holding the joint in place and forcing me to take a drag despite myself. My head was already spinning from my orgasm and the smoke, and I couldn't focus. I tried to look at her but she seemed distorted and evil as she leaned in, then reared back suddenly, knowing what I was seeing and playing on the imagery that I was spinning through my sight. I moaned, whimpering and shaking my head as I tried to get away, but it was useless. I could not focus when she finally eased back, snuffing the joint between her fingertips and tossing it into the sink. The room spun as I tried to see, and when I closed my eyes it just spiraled all the worse. I thought I was going to vomit as I forced my eyes wide, straining to ease the confusion. And I was spent, as my orgasm had left me weak and exhausted, quick and short-lived as it was. I could see Christine above me, her glorious chest huge and hovering, her wicked face lost in the shadows beyond. Her eyes were white slits staring down at me, her smile a thin slash of white, her heaving breasts, the pressure of her hot, muscular legs holding me tight... I heard the 1812 Overture and giggled stupidly, assuming that I must be dead... "Yeah?" I opened my eyes and saw Christine, her face swirling in the shadows but illuminated slightly as she held something to her ear. I started to giggle again and she squeezed her thighs, her fingers scratching at my nose, dipping into my mouth... "Yeah, I did... No... No, I'm looking at him right now. I'm sitting on him..." She giggled, clacking her nails against my teeth as I licked at her fingertips. "He did, no problem. He was happy to. He likes this I think... Yeah." I stared at her as she traced a finger down my chin and throat. She started to scratch at my nipple with her free hand, twisting and pinching again. I whimpered and moaned as the room spun away... "Okay. I'll call you in a bit. Right... Bye!" I whimpered as she snapped the cell phone shut and finally climbed off of my chest. She stared down at me with a pleasant grin as she toweled herself off again, then slipped back into her shorts, zipping them up. I almost came at the sound. "You got a case for that laptop?" she asked, nodding at my computer as she tossed the towel to the floor. Without thinking I said- "Under... the bed," and immediately regretted it. She crouched down, her hand on my stomach for support as she started to pull things from under my bed. I knew what she would find before she got to the carry bag for my laptop... "Well..." she cooed and I simply moaned. I was fucked, deeper and deeper. She stood, holding my stash of bondage magazines with a wide grin. She looked down on me. "Seems you DO like this," she said as she set the magazines down and squatted again. Eventually she came up with the leather carry case and set it roughly on my belly before reaching for my laptop. "Any passwords on this thing?" she asked as she set it in the case and secured it. "No," I said. I had it all set up for my convenience. There were no passwords on the main set up and all the sites I visited were set up with 'cookies' to let me in, no problem. My bad. She smirked as she zipped the case closed after tossing the magazines in. She slipped the case over her shoulder and then grabbed her purse again. "Good. Looks like I'm gonna have some fun then. Roberto won't be back for hours, so I have plenty of time." I looked at the clock and saw that it wasn't even 12 noon. "What about me?" I asked, starting to worry. "You can't just leave me here, like this." "Oh, you're right," she said with a frown, setting down the case again. She started to dig through her purse... In the end she had flipped me over onto my stomach and bound my ankles with a swath of duct tape. She then folded up my legs and tied my ankles to my wrists, leaving me in a tight hog-tie. As a final note she grabbed one of my dirty socks and stuffed it into my mouth before applying several more strips of the silver tape to gag me, finally wrapping three long strips all the way about my head, though luckily under my hair. When she was done I could barely move and couldn't make a sound above a muffled grunt. She laughed, shouldering my computer bag again and her purse as well. I looked up at her, but I still could not focus from the joint and had to finally close my eyes as the room started to spin. "I'll be back in the morning. I hope you enjoyed this, cuz now you're mine, bitch. Play time's over..." My eyes flashed open again and I stared at her, struggling a bit but I was too wasted and weak. She just laughed as she snatched up my keys and opened the door, leaving. I remember hearing the door slam shut, the locks turning and sliding into place with a hollow finality. I imagine that I heard her as she walked away down the hall... I was alone... I struggled of course, but it didn't take me too long to realize that I was caught and trapped. Christine had bound me tightly, tight enough to hold me until morning at least, when my real penance would begin. Or I guess that it already had. The room continued to spin as I moaned, pressing my face into the pillow. I was trapped. Bound and gagged on my bed, unable to get away. Worse, my captor was probably going through my most private thoughts all gathered on my laptop. I knew that she would be reading through the bondage mags and thinking up new ideas. I was so screwed... I moaned, thrashing about in my bondage to no avail. I was stuck. Bound and gagged and helpless... It wasn't even noon... God... THREE That first day seemed to take forever to pass... It took hours it seemed before my high finally passed. I couldn't focus for the longest time, and closing my eyes only made the condition worse as my head started to spin. The whole effect coupled with the heat and exhaustion from my orgasm had left me feeling queasy and I could feel my stomach churning. Worse, Christine had not even bothered to clean me up, and had left me wearing the panties that were now sticky with drying cum. Every time I shifted in my bondage I was reminded and could feel the tug on the thin patch of pubic hair about my groin. I didn't have much down there, but it was enough that I felt it, sometimes painfully. It was getting hot too. The weather was scheduled to be hot and humid again, ninety at least and the thick humidity would drive the Heat Index over one hundred. That meant that before too long my tiny apartment would turn into a sweatbox. My room was situated so that I saw the sun early, and by noon it had moved on, but I was on the building's top floor and that meant that the sun would beat down on the roof for the better part of the day, magnifying the heat. My one window was open, thankfully, but with the door locked there would be no breeze. I had a little fan to oscillate the air, but it was switched off and out of reach on the floor. After an hour I was sweating like a pig- a bound pig ready for the slaughter I might add. Perspiration was stinging my eyes, and as the air in my room got thicker I found it harder and harder to breathe as my mouth was sealed tightly. Worse, with the window open, flies had found their way inside and were constantly lighting on my bound, sweaty form, annoying and jerking me back to reality. I would thrash about, and they would fly off for a bit but quickly returned throughout the day and night as well. That was annoying, even aggravating at times, but far worse was the sheer boredom. I had read in the bondage mags that I had been loaned some of the stories of men and women being bound on end for hours, even days at a time. I was starting to doubt the veracity even after just an hour of my own captivity. There was simply nothing to do. There was nothing to hold my attention, especially after my high had evaporated and I could focus again. There was no television or radio, no book to read. My sight even was limited to as far as I could wiggle about and crane my neck. That left me a limited view of the room I knew all too well already. I could see my pillow. I could stare at my locked door and a bit of the space at that end of the apartment but there was really nothing to keep me focused. I tried doing things in my head; word games, counting, reciting passages from books that I had read and been forced to memorize in school. Nothing held my attention for long, and even if it did the damn flies would land and snap me back to the reality of my situation. It was frustrating beyond belief, and more than once I lost it, thrashing wildly- at least as wildly as I could- in my bonds. Breathing through my nose however I soon became winded and weak and quickly exhausted. I would lie there heaving, and then the flies would come back again... Over and over... Despite my exhaustion I learned soon enough that sleep was impossible, at least at first. I was tired from my ordeal, but I wasn't sleepy yet, and that was another frustration. Even after the effects of the joint had worn off I was still wide-awake, feeling the growing pain and restlessness of my bondage, aware of the flies and the heat. And of course the glare of the overhead light beaming down on me, which Christine had left on, probably on purpose. Too, my apartment was situated right next to the elevator and so that was another distraction whenever I did doze through the course of the long day. There were twelve apartments on the sixth and fifth floor I recalled- just one of the things I thought about laying there. Four of those on each, including mine were SROs, then of course normal studios with bathrooms and one and two bedroom apartments as well. Directly across the hall from mine was a small studio where a young Asian woman lived. I had seen her a few times in passing, and I even knew her name- a rarity in Manhattan- as I had taken in a UPS package for her once. The adjacent apartment was another SRO, and another woman lived there. She was about my age and I had met her as well, though under less pleasant circumstance as I had to pound on her door a few times to get her to turn down her music. We thus did not have a decent relationship and never even exchanged greetings if we happened to meet in the building. On the other side of my apartment was the elevator. Under normal conditions- that being not bound and gagged on my bed- I would be able to tune out the grinding noise of the elevator's engines that constantly seemed to be running. Even in the middle of the night the elevator would moan and groan and come to life, rumbling as it rose or fell. Usually, once I was finally asleep I would keep right on and sleep through the noise, only occasionally waking when the outer door slammed with someone getting off on my floor. However, helpless as I was, I heard every little noise that the elevator made. And it made a lot. I lost track of the number of times that the car made a run, and I realized just how many people in my building either worked at home or just had nothing to do during the day, busy as it was. Of course in all that were deliveries and mail and more mundane things, but it was really mind-boggling, or at least seemed that way to me in my frustration and boredom. Worse too was that my mind kept going back to the fact that all of those people were free and mobile and in control of their lives, whatever they were. They could come and go at will and enjoy whatever they were doing, be it simply walking around or going out to lunch, to run errands, do laundry, whatever. It was depressing and frustrating, and even humiliating to know that life went on whether I was involved in it or not. And tied to my bed I was definitely not involved in the slightest. My floor itself seemed a non-stop flurry of activity. All day long I would hear footsteps echoing down the hall, up and down the stairs situated at the opposing ends, occasionally voices talking, laughing and the constant slam of the elevator's outer door. It made me crazy as I squirmed in my bondage to hear all of these people free and going on about their daily lives, all totally oblivious of me lying helplessly just a few feet away separated by a few inches of wood and metal. I was jolted from a semi-conscious daze at one point by the heavy door only to hear two high-pitched female voices in the hall and growing louder. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly five in the evening and I had only been left alone for five hours now, but it even then seemed like eternity. I squirmed and writhed about in my bonds, hearing the giggles of laughter and 'hushed' whispers coming closer. I grunted into my gag from useless effort, hearing their footfalls stop near my door and half-thought that maybe Christine had returned. I quickly realized that it was the student across the hall however, hearing her locks sliding and turning, the creak of her door and then a slam and locking again. I moaned, dropping my head into my smelly pillow again, wondering if I had the balls to cry for help. Even if I did, would anyone hear me? I could barely hear myself, my loudest screams muffled too well by the swath of duct tape and the filthy sock in my mouth that held my tongue down, my mouth packed and soaked up my spittle. It hurt to scream, and I realized then how thirsty I was. I wasn't hungry yet, and my stomach was still upset from the marijuana high, but I knew that would come soon enough. Too, I wondered what would happen when I had to go to the bathroom. I wondered if Christine had considered that in my punishment. Figure she did, and was probably relishing the thought of berating me for messing the bed. I heard the elevator again not too long after five, followed by the clack of high heels in the hall. I grunted again, twisting as I listened and heard my next-door neighbor opening her locks and door. I would definitely not be calling her for help, as I could only imagine how she would take advantage of my situation to exact a little revenge over our little feud. Hell, I had been heated and rude the third time I had pounded on her door and then regretted it when I had seen how gorgeous she was, finally meeting her face to face. She was about my age, and attractive; a businesswoman of some sort by the way she dressed. An up and coming yuppie, though I was hardly in a position to talk. At any rate, we were definitely not friends, though we had achieved a truce of sorts, but I still doubted she would take kindly to finding me bound and gagged and at her mercy. Oddly I did not hear her door close again right away. I craned my neck a bit, looking over the edge of my bed and saw the flicker of shadow at the base of my door, and movement. I listened intently, wondering what was happening when I lurched at a quick rapping on my door, scaring the shit out of me. I stared at the door in a panic, wondering why she was there and what she could possibly want. God, what if Christine and her were friends- THE friend that my captor had sent that incriminating e- mail to? What if my neighbor had the keys to my apartment? I jumped again as the knocking repeated. I held my breath, watching the shadows at the bottom of my door then sighed when she finally stepped away. I sagged in my bonds when I heard the door shut and lock, realizing that I was safe again- relatively speaking of course. Then the music started. I heard the blare, the thump of bass seeping through the walls and with a groan I quickly realized why she had knocked. My neighbor was simply checking to see if I was at home so that she could blast her music. And blast it she did. All night long... The community bathroom was on the far side of her apartment, and I knew that the student across the hall, if she could even hear the music, would not care, as she was almost as bad at times. The space of the hall and the walls of course muffled most of her noise from my neighbor and I, and vice-versa I'm sure. So for my next-door neighbor, I was the only real problem, which kept her from enjoying her music at a volume that she enjoyed. If she knew that I was not home- or at least did not know any better, I'm certain she felt she had free reign and apparently that night planned to make the most of it. And so it went, all-day and well into the night. I started to drift off in a daze eventually, sort of a bored half-doze, but there seemed always something to drag me back to my predicament. The coming and going in the hall and constant rumble of the elevator. The blare of non-stop music that droned on well into the night. The heat that barely diminished after the sun went down, and the constant buzzing and tickling of the flies on my sweaty body. The perpetual glare of the bright, overhead light beaming down on me. Too, I started to feel the pain of being trapped in the same position for so long. My shoulders and wrists were aching after just a few hours, and soon my legs started to cramp as well. I did what I could, wiggling my fingers and toes, drawing in my limbs as much as I could, but any relief I gained did not last long at all. Too, nodding off as I was I quickly started getting a stiff neck, and my jaw was sore from being forced open with my gagged packing. There was a smell as well, of the unwashed me, and that just got worse the more I sweated into my already dirty sheets. Something woke me from a fitful doze later. What, I didn't know at first, but the reason soon became apparent. I heard the music still thumping through the wall as I moaned, popping my neck and looking to the clock near the sink. It was after ten, and surprisingly I had drifted off for awhile, but this time it was my own body, which had awakened me. I felt the pressure in my bladder soon enough and realized that the accident I had earlier worried over was about to occur. I gritted my teeth and tried to hold it in, and succeeded for awhile, but I suppose I had already been doing so in sleep. I felt the first trickle as I squeezed my legs together, but that just made it worse. The trickle quickly became a stream, and then a steady gush. I felt the warmth spreading sloppily beneath me and I groaned, partially from relief but more from sheer embarrassment. I had not wet the bed since I had been in grade school- well, except for that night that I had my first wet dream years later. Anyway, it was humiliating to lose total control like that, and it was even more of a reminder that my life was in someone else's hands. And then to just have to lie in my mess for the rest of the night. It was too much. The elevator door woke me again, finally. And again I moaned, glancing at the clock to see that I had finally made it through the night. It was almost eight, so I knew that it was morning though it took me quite awhile to comprehend that and get my head together. I stretched and wiggled about as best as I could, breathing deeply despite the smell of sweat and urine that hung in the thick, humid air. It was still hot and stagnant in my room, though a little better. The piss beneath me had dried somewhat during the night, but now the sheet was stiff and scratchy, and the panties too were stiff with the stain. My shoulders were throbbing with my movement, but my hands and feet were numb and my fingers and toes started to tingle a bit as I wiggled them back to life. Too, I was parched, and at that point I realized that I was looking forward to Christine's return if only for the- hopefully- relief she might bring. And as if on cue I heard her voice out in the hallway- "Good morning," she said to someone, and I heard another voice respond in kind, then- "Where's Carl?" I wondered who was asking after me, and for that matter, who on the floor actually knew my name. A woman's voice, but neither of my closest neighbors. "He'll be back today," Christine answered and I heard her slide a key into one of the locks on my door. "He had to go away yesterday, and he asked me to feed his fish this morning..." I listened to them chatting as Christine unlocked my door without a care. As though I was not bound and gagged right on the other side. I hoped to hell that she would not open the door before my neighbor left and sighed with relief when I heard them say 'good bye'. A wave of cool air washed over me as my door finally opened and my kidnaper stepped inside. She quickly shut the door behind her and spun the locks back into place before dropping my keys back into her leather purse, then turning her attention on me- "Good morning," she chimed in a happy, singsong voice all sweetness and dripping with honey. I looked up at her from my helplessness and saw her pretty face smiling widely down on me, taking me in. She was wearing blue jeans and a white polo shirt that was fully unbuttoned and