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                               (nc, m/f, f/f, bd)

      The following story contains adult material.  If below the age of 18, go
outside, get some fresh air and do something healthy (g).

      If you ARE 18, then you should know the following story is about a young
woman who is forced into non-consensual sex, public humiliation, and b&d, in
both m/f and f/f situations.  Both the characters and occurences in this series
are completely fictitious.

                                  The Mortgage
                                  by Marlissa

                                   PART FIVE

      The next morning, she asked Baines to be kept on permanently as his
personal secretary.

      "Would you like to interview for the job now then?" Baines was
unbuttoning her blouse with his eyes, addressing his question to the small,
firm breasts.

      Amy smiled weakly. "Sure," she answered. Her mouth was dry, very dry.

      "Good. Secretaries need to be VERY PRETTY to work for me, Amy. And VERY
SEXY. Could you remove your blouse now?" Baines licked his lips slowly,
savoring his request.

      Amy stood up like a rocket, outraged and trembling. She tried to but
couldn't meet his eyes. Shaking on weak legs, she turned to the door
wordlessly. A mistake, this was a mistake, a mistake --

      "Sit down RIGHT NOW." The order was cold, unarguable. Without waiting for
a response, he dialed the phone. "Yes, the Sheriff please.

      This is Mr. Baines, the Executive Vice President in charge of loans at
the First Metropolitan Bank. I have two foreclosures to discuss -- the Walenski
Junior and Senior residences. Yes, I'll hold for a moment." Baines tapped his
gold pen on the desk rhythmically. As Amy resumed her seat, he quietly placed
the receiver back in its rest.

      "The Sheriff's men will evict you by end of day, the house reverting to
the bank whenever I make the call. That includes your in-laws." Baines paused,
letting this sink in before continuing. "IF, however you behave yourself and if
you are a VERY GOOD little secretary, I'll will keep the late mortgage payment
our little secret." Baines looked at Amy, eyes arched in incredulity, tapping
the pen impatiently. "Shouldn't you thank me for being so kind? And shouldn't
you take off your blouse now?"

      Amy sniffled. "Th-th-thank you, M-m-Mr. B-b-Baines." Trembling, she
unbuttoned her blouse, second after endless second displaying more and more of
her bare body. With her eyes glued to the deep pile carpet of the executive
office, she limply pulled off her blouse, letting it fall to the floor. She
wished she might cover her chest, but she knew this wouldn't be allowed. She
kept her arms at her side, displaying her plain white cotton Maidenform bra,
her pale skin blushing pink in shame.

      "Now the skirt," Mr. Baines instructed.

      Amy choked, her big brown eyes growing heavy with raindrop tears. She
obeyed silently, the tears trickling down her face now, as she unzipped the
simple blue cotton skirt. Foolishly, she thought how she had picked out her
nicest clothes to wear for Mr. Baines and now they were all on the floor of his
office, even as she tossed the skirt on top of the blouse. She stood before him
now in nothing but her flats, her bra and her white cotton panties, her whole
body quivering as he gave her a clinical once-over. He nodded approvingly and
began to speak.

      "Amy, let me explain how things will be from now on:

      First, you will earn thirteen thousand dollars a year as my secretary --
from that salary, the mortgage payment will be made. It won't be enough to
cover the entire mortgage payment, so I will stretch your loan from a thirty to
a fifty year loan -- an unusual but not unknown practice. The paycheck will be
made out directly to the bank and I will give you a small allowance with which
to buy your new work clothes and other items, which," Baines' eyes lit up, "I
will explain in a moment. You will be kept on a virtually permanent probation
status, meaning termination at MY discretion.

      Second, all credit cards will be cut up and all credit lines cut off
immediately. Your credit record will indicate your late payments, and you will
be denied any request for credit. You will be blacklisted and frozen by credit
card companies and financial institutions. You will henceforth use cash for
everything -- that is, the small amount of cash I allow you to use from your
'allowance'", Baines' eyes danced at the thought then continued, "-- as a
little girl, you obviously can't be allowed access to money. You have already
shown yourself, like your husband, as too immature to handle money. So I will
do it for you."

      Amy wanted to scream YOU LET US BUY THE HOUSE!!! YOU SAID WE COULD AFFORD
IT!!! IT IS YOUR FAULT!!! But she merely listened in fascination as Mr. Baines,
her boss, continued to tell her how she would live her life from this point on.

      "Third, you will tell Wendell that you are so very very HAPPY to work for
me and lucky to get the job. You will have Wendell come in personally to THANK
me for my generosity in hiring his inexperienced young wife as his secretary.
He should write a gushing note as well, for your personnel file, just as you
should write thank you notes every so often, telling me how happy you are to be
my secretary.

      Fourth, you will tell Wendell about a WONDERFUL opportunity as a security
guard at a local factory that I have tipped you to. It requires a seven day a
week commitment, working six at night to six in the morning." Mr. Baines
frowned in mock disappointment. "It only pays hourly minimum wage meaning
twelve thousand a year tops. But with jobs so scarce and Wendell with just a
high school degree... Well, you ought to have him come in and thank me for that
too. I have a funny feeling that Wendell will get the job very easily. I'll
point out that you his wife is actually making more money than he is at his new
job. That will remind him what a disappointment he must seem to you as a man.
Too bad, but there you are."

      Amy gritted her teeth. She could see her dear Wendell dejected, his broad
shoulders slumping, his spirit broken. Failure. That's what he would see
himself as.

      "Fifth, obviously children will have to wait for awhile. You're young.

      You'll have plenty of time later on, in my humble opinion. And doesn't my
opinion mean a great deal to you now?" His steely grin said it all.

      His opinion meant EVERYTHING to Amy now. "Anyway you won't really have
the opportunity to make one, will you? So you'll get on the Pill today if you
aren't already on it.

      Sixth, you will dress 'appropriately' from now on. Your underwear is not
acceptable."

      Amy shivered with impotent rage and humiliation.

      "You will purchase silky, lacy lingerie, tight miniskirts, clingy tops
and so forth. You'll surprise me with your imagination, but here are a few tips
for you: I ALWAYS prefer garter belts and stockings to pantyhose -- you should
remember that. High heels from now on -- three inch heels at minimum. I like
thong panties and thigh highs. Panty and bra colors that sluts like include red
and black. Amy, from this point on, consider yourself a slut."

      NO!!! Amy screamed. Then she saw the sheriff's deputies taking everything
away. Her in-laws begging on the street, all because of HER. She swallowed her
shame and listened, glassy eyed, to her new boss's next question.

      "I have taken the time to go through this," he pulled a catalog out from
his top drawer. It glided across the smooth polished surface of the mahogany
desktop. Amy looked at it. It was the latest catalog from Frederick's of
Hollywood. "-- and circled the things that I think are appropriate for you to
wear now. I think you'll find them out of your price range, but try to
substitute closely at Wal-Marts or wherever poor people buy things. Look
through it now, will you?"

      Amy flipped the glossy pages. In the front was clothing. Mr. Baines had
circled sexy models posing seductively in tube tops, spandex miniskirts, hot
pants -- she flipped toward the back. Lingerie. Teddies, babydolls, lace
bikinis, crotchless panties -- all worn by women who looked like their lives
depended on pleasing a man, with big "Fuck me please!" smiles glued on their
faces and sticking their tits and asses out as far as they could. Sluts.

      "What is your bra size, Amy?"

      "Th-thirty-two A."

      He waited, then added "Sir or Mr. Baines is appropriate, Amy. Try it
again."

      "Thirty-two A, Mr. Baines."

      He put his finger to his lip, contemplating this. "Better stick with bras
that give you some support in that area, Amy. With breasts that small, you'll
need a lot of help, won't you?"

      "Yes, Mr. Baines." She wiped a tear away before another took it's place.

      "Yes indeed, Amy. I see you in shelf bras, push-ups, and half bras that
give you a lift. ABSOLUTELY NO PADDING though. You're a flat little thing and
don't think you can escape that fact. What's a flat girl's best friend in the
world, Amy?"

      Amy shook her head. She could feel her little boobs swaying slightly in
her familiar old Maidenform as she did. "I don't know, Mr. Baines."

      "The Wonder Bra, naturally. Get one at once. Or two if you like. Make-up
should be worn at all times and I like what you working class girls call `big
hair' -- it's so suggestive so cheap-looking, don't you think? Painted nails
always, and keep your toenails painted too. Have your ears pierced a couple of
more times at the mall and let's try hoops or chandelier-style earrings on you
too. You will purchase these items with the allowance I'll give you. Since that
will be a small allowance, you will have to shop at the discount stores, I'm
afraid. I love the thought of you buying the sexiest lingerie K-mart has to
offer, along with all the other white trash!" His gruff, pitiless chuckle
echoed in her ears. Amy shivered as he added, "You'll be required to purchase
other items out of your allowance as well at places downtown, nasty places, but
we'll talk about those items in the weeks and months to come."

      "Seventh, you'll be working late. Bankers never sleep. Travel will be
necessary from time to time and I'll need my faithful, efficient little
secretary with me at those times. You should warn Wendell you might not be home
some mornings, even weekends. You should be VERY convincing on this score, Amy.
You will, won't you dear?"

      Amy nodded dumbly, a zombie. She was being told that she wouldn't be
allowed to spend any time with Wendell. She was reserved for the exclusive use
of Mr. Baines from now on. "Travel" meant cheap hotels, one bed, rented by the
hour, sheets extra. "Working late" meant... she felt chills spread throughout
her entire body, electric shocks sizzle through her heart and lungs as she
gasped, choking down tears. It was setting in now what he was talking about. It
was dawning on her that nothing would ever be the same again. She could no
longer restrain the panicky tears, the gut-wrenching sob that burst forth. She
clutched her face, awash in the anticipation of her complete abasement.

      Baines' tone was disgusted. "Eight, and most important for you, Amy, so
stop sniveling and listen up -- you will have a proper ATTITUDE about your new
situation. You will show me GRATITUDE and RESPECT. You will long to please me,
to make sure I am NEVER, EVER displeased with you. My displeasure will result
in your punishment. And if you were ever to speak to my ex-wife, you would
learn just how terrible my punishments can be."

      Amy forced herself to stop crying. A new tone had filled Mr. Baines now,
one that terrified her more than anything she had heard since.

      "That's right Amy. Good girl. No more tears -- just smiles for your boss.
Give me a smile now... show me how much you LIKE being my little assistant."

      Amy hooked up the ends of her mouth into an unconvincing smile.

      "Not that kind of smile, Amy. You KNOW what kind of smile I want to see
on your pretty face." His look said she had a second chance, no more. His
patience was wearing thin with her.

      She closed her eyes and thought of the way she smile at Wendell, then
killed it. No, that wasn't what he wanted, he didn't want love, he wanted...
lust. She curled her lips up, and gave her lower lip a little bite like one of
the models in the lingerie catalog. Amy gave Mr. Baines a slut's smile. And he
nodded approvingly.

      "That's VERY good. And I want you to behave just like your smile hints
at. For me, in front of others especially. There shouldn't be any doubt in
people's minds about what you are and you should act the part every second of
every day. Or," he pointed at the phone again. Sheriff's deputies, bankruptcy,
her in-laws homeless, Wendell broken for good as a man. Baines looked up, his
point having been made by the look in Amy's eyes.

      "So, just so we have it for the record, what are you, Amy?"

      Amy blinked back a tear, smiling the airhead bimbo "DO ME!!!" smile she
had just learned to do so well. "I am a slut, Mr. Baines."

      "Whose slut, Amy?"

      The smile was there for him, but she knew her eyes betrayed her. They
were filled with fear, fear of him and what he might do to her should she not
give the appropriate answer. Without hesitation she replied as happily as she
could.

      "I am YOUR slut, Mr. Baines."

      She couldn't believe what had happened and how quickly it had happened to
her. She had come here to try to figure out how to get an extension on their
mortgage. In three months, she had been reduced to nothing more than a sex
slave secretary. Baines was her boss, but he was more than that and she knew
it. Mister Baines was her new master.

      "That is all. You may get dressed. You'll begin tomorrow. Perhaps you
should go home and tell your husband the good news. Here," he tossed a twenty
dollar bill at her. "Go to MacDonald's to celebrate. And buy a six pack of
beer. Make your husband think you two are the luckiest newlyweds in the world.
Make him happy, Amy. Give him something to remember as he starts his first day
or night of work tomorrow. Be here at eight-thirty, prompt. Have my coffee hot
and ready on my desk -- I like it with one sugar, black."

      Amy waited for a moment, then grabbed her clothes, grateful for the
protective covering of the blouse and skirt. She turned to go.

      "Hold on, missy. There's one more thing -- AND I think you owe me a big
thank you," Baines leered, tapping his gold pen.

      Thank you for turning me into YOUR PERSONAL WHORE?, she wanted to snap
back. But her eyes looked at his, then dropped to the floor. She mumbled.

      "Speak UP!" he barked.

      "Thank you, Mister Baines. Thank you for making me your new secretary."

      He made his last request. It was the one that broke her. All her
self-righteous anger wrapped within itself into a ball, which promptly smashed
into bits against this most degrading command. She nodded obediently,
submissively, like a proper secretary would respond to any ordinary request her
boss might make. Slowly, carefully she slipped off her engagement ring and
placed it before him, then the wedding band.

      Baines slipped the two rings on his keychain with double snaps. "Good
luck charms," he explained callously. "You'll tell Wendell you lost them
cleaning. He'll want to replace them but how can you? You can't even make your
mortgage payment for God's sake. You think I'm taking them because I don't want
people to think you're married, don't you Amy? You're wrong. I WANT everyone to
know you're married. I'll make reference to it. They'll be no confusion about
it. And when people ask you why you don't wear your wedding and engagement
rings, all I want you to do is smile and wink. That will give everyone you work
with all they need to know about Amy Walenski -- now, you may leave."

      As Baines watched his new possession take leave from his office, he
smiled. He had waited five years to take ownership of this girl, this little
nothing his daughter laughed at behind her back. Her small breasts, her tight
backside, her pouty mouth -- he would train her, break her in just the way he
wanted her. Ah, the fun he would have with his new plaything!

      As she trailed out in a daze, stinging in her deepest humiliation, Baines
thought about the pride of ownership -- home and otherwise. When the Walenskis
hadn't made their first mortgage payment on time, he had arranged to buy the
note secretly from the bank. He had approached the bank president, an ancient
golfplaying fool who was rarely in the office. Baines felt responsible about
having recommended the young couple. He would inform them of foreclosure and
buy the mortgage himself, probably allow them to rent. The old man waved an
o.k. and left for the links, leaving Baines with title to the pathetic little
slab two bedroom ranch. They had already lost their little bit of principal.
Amy's and Wendell's paychecks would go for rent, not mortgage payments as they
would think. He would let it go years before revealing the truth. And by that
time, he would no longer need that particular threat in order to have Amy do
his bidding. There would be other, far worse things by then...photographs,
videos, dirty letters she would write him.

      Baines smiled. There was so much to look forward to, to live for. For the
first time since his wife had left him, he felt good -- REALLY good.


In Part Six, Amy obediently assumes her new position as Mr. Baine's office
plaything.

