Subject: Mortgage 7/10 (nc, m/f, f/f, bd)
In Part Seven, a death and Amy's shameful memories...
The Mortgage- PART SEVEN, by Marlissa
"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 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 jokekekmales 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
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 iis ii
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..."
