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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 SEVEN

      "Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on," droned the minister. The
mourners nodded their heads in dutiful silence, huddling under black umbrellas
as the incessant drizzle misted downward from the gray-black sky. It was a
large crowd -- bank employees, business partners, golf mates, neighbors, and
those who had known him in all his various guises as a pillar of the community.
Robert Parker Baines had been known and admired by so many in Bentson County.
The sudden heart attack that had stricken him while in the midst of a bank
meeting had taken them all by surprise.

      Kathryn stood behind the minister, somber and thoughtful as he read
benediction over her father's funeral. The recent divorcee appeared calm and in
control, under the circumstances. It was her father's steely eyes that surveyed
the crowd, taking an account of all who had come to pay respects.

      Briefly those eyes rested, emotionlessly, on Amy. She had purposely
chosen an unobtrusive spot on the edge of the group, somewhat embarrassed about
her attire. It would draw attention if she didn't attend the funeral of her
boss Mr. Baines and there had been no time to shop for a suitable outfit. She
had gritted her teeth and slipped into the closest thing she had to proper
mourning garb -- a black spandex miniskirt, a form-fitting sleeveless black
turtle neck, black stockings and her four inch black spike heels. The looks of
the other mourners had warned her to seek a place in the back, stares that
announced she was a stupid little slut who didn't know any better that to dress
that way for a funeral.

      Kathryn had discovered her effortlessly, as if she knew Amy would be
there. Their eyes locked for a moment in the space of the gray, wet air, then
returned to the minister.

      "Robert Baines will always be remembered as a paragon, an example for
others to follow. Those of you who knew him closely know that just in the last
few years he displayed a love for life that was inspiring..."

      Memories of Robert Parker Baines flooded Amy Walenski. She tensed a a
remembrance gripped her in a vise, palms flattening against her thighs. Two
years ago...

      The 'breaking in' period. Dressing and acting to please her new boss.
Learning to endure the humiliating comments of the other female employees, the
subtle, then not so subtle, leers from the male workers. Learning to giggle at
the filthiest jokes males would tell, all while Baines watched. Ordered to ask
advice of the male co-workers in the most intimate, teasing way possible just
HOW could she make her hubby happy, anyway, and what did men like most in bed?
Instructed to constantly pore over lingerie catalogs like they were riveting
novels, agonizing over each potential purchase in public -- "The pink lace
teddy or the red bustiere... what do YOU think, Ted?" No friends at the bank --
who would want a slut for a friend? Every spare minute away from Baines spent
shopping for sexy clothes, or shaping her body with aerobics or tanning herself
at the Gold-a-Rama, all to make herself look more appetizing for HIM. And the
used condoms left, purposely, in the bedroom for Wendell to find the next
morning when he trudged home from work. The tired, disgusted looks from an
increasing drunken Wendell in the rare moments they were together...

      "-- a man whose sense of propriety and Christian piety was well known to
those lucky enough to spend any time with him--" Amy wanted to laugh out loud.
Her eyes lost focus as the scenes played out in the cinema of her mind.
Twenty-one months ago...

      The 'rules' period. Baines laying down very explicit dictates that Amy
must obey to the letter. Doing the "four to eight," that wa wa way Amy was
taught to think of it. It referred to the way she would walk from now on.
"Imagine you are standing on the face of a clock, Amy," his polished voice
instructed, "now make sure with every step, you swing your hips first to the
four o'clock, then with the next step to the eight o'clock." The result -- an
exaggerated pivot that was designed to communicate an attention- inviting
sultry saunter.

      Other posture rules. Whenever standing, feet no closer than two feet
apart to give her an overly "available" look, accentuated by her ever- present
hip-hugging miniskirts. Lips to be kept wet and slightly open at all times when
not speaking, giving her an arousing if somewhat stupid facial expression. When
in the presence of any man or men, eyelashes to bat three times a minute while
looking directly at the male speaker.

      Amy was only permitted two expressions now -- an ecstatic, flirty smile
or a pouty frown, depending on the situation. One palm to be kept on her hip at
all times when standing or walking, the other to clutch a pencil and notepad,
unless performing a special errand for her superior. Chest to be thrust out at
ALL TIMES like a military school cadet.

      Clothing rules. All new clothing to be modeled in the privacy of Mr.
Baines' office to ensure the building of an appropriate wardrobe. All shopping
restricted to either junior miss clothing or "club" clothes, giving her two
alternating 'looks': the first that of a shyly suggestive high schooler in her
clingy angora sweaters, poodle skirts, lacy ankle stockings and pink heels; the
second that of a night club-hopping working girl on a nighttime adventure, in
her leather miniskirts, see- through black lace tops, seamed black stockings
and stiletto black heels. The visible pantyline rule -- no miniskirt, shorts or
hot pants purchased unless the pantyline was clearly visible at a reasonable
distance. All of which necessitated many clothing returns and caused the
shopgirls at K-Mart to groan whenever the "clothes horse" secretary trotted
into the store.

      Amy learning about the importance of taking her education in slutdom very
seriously. Because whenever any of Mr. Baines' many rules were broken...

      "He was a good man, full of caring and patience --" Shame, HER shame,
snapped up hard against her dwindling self-control. Her brown eyes reddened,
damming back tears. A year and a half ago...

      Amy kneeling under Baines' desk, wearing a black g-string and high heels,
her wrists securely handcuffed behind her back. Her heavily lipsticked mouth
jammed against his semi-erect cock, her lips and tongue trying to coax him
toward relief for the third time that afternoon. The frequent sounds of phone
conversations and the tap of the keyboard as Baines tended to his executive
responsibilities, even as she labored to serve his desires. Pain spiking
through her nipples as he pinched them cruelly, twisting them upward, signaling
his displeasure with her efforts under his desk. But the worst part, the awful
reality that she was now wet between her legs, hoping she would be allowed to
masturbat before the end of the day as a reward for servicing her boss with
satisfactory sluttishness...

      "-- with a respect for all people, an abiding trust in the American dream
of continuous improvement based on hard work--" She should be smiling now that
it was all over, but as the other mourners eyed her with disdain, all she could
think of was how he had made her look to them, how fifteen months ago he had...

      Mr. Baines training her in new "office etiquette," Amy being taught the
proper way to conduct herself in her position as Mr. Baine's personal
secretary. Expected to keep her nails PERFECT, her hair PERFECT, her make-up
PERFECT at all times, this ensured by the rule that when not doing carrying out
a chore, Amy must file her nails, primp with her hair and re-apply lipstick and
make-up at her desk, doing each at least three times an hour. Instructed to
reply to any questions regarding business with the same line: "I don't get it"
or "I don't understand," thus cementing the impression that if you were dealing
with Amy, you were dealing with an airhead. Baine's command that she ask at
least three different men at the bank if they liked her outfits and the way she
dressed -- daily. The men sneering, talking down to her because of it. The
embarrassing things Mr. Baines made her say and do, as if she were doing them
out of free will. Like when there was a general meeting of all the employees --
that had been especially humiliating. When the head of human resources had
asked if anyone had any questions, Amy had raised her hand and in front of the
entire bank had asked when condom machines might be installed in the ladies
room. Mr. Baines had feed her the line and laughed out loud in disgust as soon
as she had asked it, her cheeks burning in shame. The way he had told her to
dress for the annual bank Halloween party -- as a Playboy Bunny. The way the
women kept their boyfriends and husbands as far away from her as they could and
the way she had been fondled and groped through the whole evening by virtually
all the bank's male employees... Mr. Baines watching impassively as she was
pinched and patted on her bunny tail, as his dazed and confused secretary
smiled in dumb shame.

      "...a wise executive whose business career was long and distinguished, a
man respected by those he dealt with..." Amy's brown eyes trickling two wet
beads. A year ago...

      Trembling, Amy asking the clerk in the Adult Novelties Shop the name and
price of each and every dildo and vibrator for sale. Trying to hold back tears
as she obediently wrote down the information on a pad to report back to Mr.
Baines, while the scruffy clerk looked her over and slowly, very slowly, gave
her the information so important to her. Mr. Baines angry, sending her back to
the store the next day. How could he make a decision without knowing what
colors they were available in? Her arousal almost constant now, a lusty flush
on her face from morning to night for all to see...

      "...a man who believed in helping people achieve their greatest hopes and
desires..." Amy winced, still seeing herself eight months ago...

      Amy sitting across from Ms. Jensen in the bank cafeteria, the woman
executive Amy had invited to have lunch with her. Despite her increasingly
slutty appearance and bimbo reputation, the up-and- coming Ms. Jensen had
readily agreed, pleased to advise another woman how to succeed in the banking
world. Amy had always admired Ms. Jensen -- her success (a vice president like
Mr. Baines at only twenty-eight!), her assertiveness, her openly avowed
feminism and confident attitude. And it was those qualities that had made this
lunch meeting so important to Mr. Baines. Because Ms. Jensen was a rival, one
that needed to be reminded of a woman's "proper place".

      Amy sitting across from the female executive, the rest of the bank
employees filling up the small cafeteria. Smiling lamely at the woman, watching
Mr. Baines, beseeching him from across the room with her eyes. DON'T MAKE ME DO
THIS! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE... but the cold slate eyes ignoring the silent,
screaming plea. Ms. Jensen looking worried...

      "Are you all right Amy? You look flushed." Ms. Jensen's kind, worried
words, the concerned look...

      Mr. Baines adjusting the small remote control in his hand, the thrumming
of the vibrator increasing between Amy's legs...

      "Do you need some water or something?" The sharp young vice president
more suspicious now -- was there more to this casual meeting than met the eye?
Over her shoulder, her boss turning the remote up faster now...

      Amy's lips parted, the sigh of bliss betraying her building orgasm. The
throbbing vibrator within faster and faster, Baines' laughter as she began to
moan uncontrollably.

      The woman executive backing away in disgust. "Amy, I'm, uh, flattered,
but I --"

      Amy bucking now, biting her slips and moaning like a slut in heat, all
the time keeping her eyes locked on the other woman. The snickers from the
other employees and the horror on Ms. Jensen's face as it dawned on her that
they might think, the rest of the bank might assume she and Amy were, but no --

      Mr. Baines racketing up the vibrator to full and Amy feeling the hot,
shaming desires wetten her panties and now skirt, as the rest of the employees
watched the whorish performance in mingled fascination and disdain. Ms. Jensen
leaving the bank shortly thereafter amid rumors that she was a lesbian...

      "...a well-known and extremely generous supporter of the arts in his
community..." Her arms clutched her chest, holding the brewing storm within. It
was over, she had to keep remembering that, it was all over. But only six
months ago...

      The video camera whirring as Amy cupped her small breasts through the red
lace push-up bra, with a dirty smile for the camera. The yellow neon light of
the cheap hotel blinking through the window. Baines muting the audio, then
instructing her specifically what to do next... or else. The secretary kneeling
on the gray, unwashed sheets of the hotel bed, her hands dropping to seek out
the object he wants her to play with. Spreading her knees, a puckered kiss for
the lens as she slipped off the red lace thong panty and inserts the impossibly
long black rubber dildo into her tight, smooth bare sex. Baines clicking the
audio back on, Amy beginning to moan, her performance gaining more tempo as she
gyrates her hips with the huge prong driven deep between her legs. As she
played for the camera, Mr. Baines offering the revelation that her cherished
Sexylicious gum was actually a combination low-grade narcotic AND
aphrodisiac...

      "A humane man, one who cared so much for others and so little for himself
--" Amy was trembling as her face contorted in pain, the mascara running a
black river down her face as she thought back just two months ago...

      Amy kneeling on the carpet, naked except for a black lace corset with
garters and her stiletto heels -- and a dog collar attached to a leash held
tightly by her lord and master, Mr. Baines. He was giving her more orgasm
training.

      "Frig, bitch, frig!"

      Amy's fingers darted to her smooth, tight pussy, one inserting itself a a
others danced lewdly around the pink, quivering lips. She was wet immediately
and he gave her the reward of a pat on the head.

      "Good girl, good little bitch! Now STOP!"

      The finger popped out.

      "And LICK!"

      The finger found it's way into her mouth and she sucked it dry of her
juice. It was a familiar taste by now. She knew it as well as she knew the
taste of Mr. Baine's sperm.

      "And HEEL!"

      She dropped to her fours, spreading her legs and sticking her bare ass
high in the air for her master. Her master mounted her from behind, penetrating
Amy in the orifice least pleasurable to her, but as he did, Amy moaned and
bucked. In the mirror, Baines could see Amy's dirty girl leer, her panting
mouth, her hungry lips and tongue, the way the nipples on her small, pert
breasts were as hard as angry red diamonds. He could feel her young body give
way to his assault, accepting the large demanding rod into her tight anal
channel. He rammed home hard and she cried, in pain and simulated joy, Amy's
knees shaking now. He could feel it building within him, a roaring river
crashing against her. He exploded within her, filling her insides with his
creamy geyser.

      "And CUM!"

Amy moaned louder, louder, louder, then arched her back in angelic release.
Baines smiled and pulled out roughly, leaving the secretary panting on the
floor, her ass filled with his jism. It was all counterfeit, all make-believe
-- but she MUST make him believe. When he came, she must cum. He tugged on the
leash and Amy looked up in fear.

      Had she been convincing? The whip marks on her ass were still red from
having failed the last time.

      He yanked the leash up, patting her head and she rose gratefully to her
knees. She had been a good little bitch for Mr. Baines, she thought in relief.
Because she had cummed on command for him. Mr. Baines wouldn't beat her this
time! She had finally done it right! Later that night, she would rethink every
motion, every moan, making sure she performed her orgasm the same way next time
he used her. But for now, she must force her attention on the next task at
hand. She waited patiently for the next command, which inevitably followed.

      "And CLEAN!"

      With tears of relief flowing from her eyes, she gingerly took hold of the
soiled cock and began to make love to it with her mouth, her slut secretary
mouth...

      "And above all, Robert Baines was a kind man, a gentleman without an evil
thought in his entire being, who left his mark on everyone he touched..."
Self-disgust gripped Amy as she choked hoarsely on salty tears. Just two weeks
ago...

      Sweat beading on Amy's forehead as the expert worked below, her brain
spinning with desperate curiosity and dread. The nerves in the delicate flesh
twitching, tickling with each tease of the deftly wielded metal tip as it
danced over her skin. Baines cupping her chin, her weak, slutty smile back at
him begging for approval. "This is the way it must be." Her submissive,
accepting nod. The body painter finishing, giving Baines a nod. "Look." Amy
looking down between her legs, the small space above her pink lips eternally
adorned with a tattoo of a throbbing heart. It's center filled with one word:
"Bimbo." Baines comforting her: "Don't worry, pretty girl. You'll STILL be able
to wear your thong bikini for me..."


In Part Eight, Amy begins a new life and then is reunited with an old friend...

