Subject: Mortgage 9/10 (nc, m/f, f/f, bd)
In Part Nine, Amy learns her fate at the stern hands of Kathryn
The Mortgage- PART NINE, by Marlissa
"And so to teach that cretin Wendell a lesson, I'm hereby evicting
your poor old in-laws as of five o'clock today." Kathryn's cover
girl smile was a twisted, feral thing, a smile that tasted blood.
Amy shook her head. "You can't! Please! they're old! They
don't have any money! They--"
Kathryn waved a manicured hand impatiently. "They're gone
already. Off to section eight housing in the city. Welfare will
cover some of their needs, but as for the rest, who cares? Not I.
Wendell must learn who his superiors are, and never, ever to treat
them with disrespect again, don't you think? Especially his new
boss."
"WHAT!?!" Amy's mind was rolling on a rough sea of unreality
now, reeling with each new revelation.
The manicured nail ran itself through curtly trimmed blond bangs.
"Daddy owned the little factory Wendell works at. And so I own
it now. I'm Wendell's boss."
Amy looked at the wedding band, HER wedding band, on the
desk. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She had sacrificed
almost everything-- her dignity, her pride, her self-respect. She
would do this for Wendell. With sad concentration, she played
her last card.
"If you let my in-laws keep their home and let Wendell keep his
job, I'll divorce him. He's yours. I'll disappear. It's what you've
always wanted. And you'll have it-- all."
Kathryn clapped theatrically. "Bravo! The heroine bravely gives
her all! True love triumphs! Just one question," she added
mockingly. "What makes you think I want him? He's fat, drunk
and stupid. If I wanted a husband, I'd have kept the one I had, my
dear. He was much prettier than Wendell ever was. Too
independent, but certainly prettier. Alas, I had to give him up.
But just for your peace of mind, he'll be allowed to keep his job,
though only with a demotion-- to janitor."
Amy's pulse raced. There was more, there was more coming.
She had to be brave.
"As for your in-laws-- too late. They'll disappear into nothingness
with time. I've already forgotten about the whole thing. But your
other suggestion was intriguing. Divorce? I'm amused. Yes,
you'll divorce Wendell. Men don't marry whores like you-- they
fuck them."
Amy stood up. "I'm not listening anymore. I'm not divorcing
Wendell. I'm going to get my in-laws right now. "
Kathryn shook her head with mock regret. "No, bitch, you WILL
listen. You WILL forget about your in-laws. And you WILL
divorce Wendell-- the reason will be how he is unable to satisfy
you sexually. You will be graphic about just how MUCH sex
you require to be satisfied. Wendell won't fight hard-- I doubt he
has money for a lawyer! And he'll have to bring up those nasty
used condoms he found, won't he? It should be an interesting
trial, don't you think? Who do you think will win-- him because
his wife is such a whore, or you because your husband is such an
effeminate wimp?" She cackled in delight at the scene.
"You can't make me do ANYTHING!" Amy screeched. "Not
anymore! Never again! I'm free-- free-- FREE!" Amy babbled.
She was hysterical now, unable to control herself.
"''Fraid not, Amy. Take a look." Kathyrn coolly pushed a stack
of video tapes, a photo album and a stack of legal papers toward
her.
Amy looked at the photo album. The cover read "Amy's
Scrapbook." She knew what was inside, but forced herself to
confirm her worst fears. There were scores of candid shots, all of
Amy-- on her back, playing with one of her 'toys', stripping for
the photographer. There were letters she had written-- all to an
anonymous "Big Cock" from "Your Loving Fuckhole, Amy
Walenski." There were details of things the writer fantasized
about doing, awful things, all sealed with big wet kissmarks and
scented with Amy's perfume.
She calmed herself. It didn't mean anything, she told herself
numbly. There could be explanations. Or she could move, that
was it, she would move away from Bentson...
Kathryn pushed the rest of the pile toward her. Amy unwillingly
picked up a video. It had a cleanly printed label on it: "The
Adventures of Amy Walenski."
"Daddy had the whole lot produced commercially. You star in
your own series, Amy." Kathryn mouthed the names as Amy
read them off: "Call Girl Cums On Command", "Dildo Darling
Does It Deep", "Amateur Amy: Striptease Slut," "Cheap Motel
Quickie Girl", "Horny Housewife Hump Fun", "Date Rape
Dream Girl", "Blow Job Bimbo", "Sassy Schoolgirl Gets
Spanked"... There were four or five more.
Amy put the tape down. A tentative smile blossomed. "You can't
use these. They'd show your father doing all these things to me.
You wouldn't DARE ruin him--"
The heiress smirked. "Try again, cupcake. Daddy's nowhere in
these tapes. It's all Amy going solo. No faces, no names used.
Just you and your favorite part of the male anatomy-- up close
and personal."
But Amy's angry smile refused to die. It hung on stubbornly.
"You use these and I'll sue you. Big time.'
Again, Kathryn shook her head. "No, no you won't. Because I
have a perfect right to produce and distribute these
commercially." She pointed at the stack of legal papers. "Too
bad stupid little secretary Amy didn't read everything she signed
for the Boss. You gave his dummy off-shore corporation
complete power and authority over your 'performances' in
exchange for fifty dollars a piece-- your 'allowance' I believe it
was. As Daddy's sole heir, I now hold those rights."
Amy's brown eyes narrowed, her thin, too-long nose was
quivering with frustration, her small mouth clamped shut. At last
she spoke. "Fine-- you want me to divorce Wendell or you'll
prove what a slut I am-- what your father turned me into? You
pushed me too far Kathryn. There's no reason for me to do
anything you say. Either way I turn, you'll show me up as a
whore-- whether you use the tapes OR make me divorce Wendell
the way you said. I can't win. Which means in a way I can't lose
either. I'll leaving. Do what you want. I'm leaving town. I don't
know why you want to hurt me, but I'm going someplace you'll
never find me."
The blonde didn't say a word, merely smiled coldly. "Good luck
to you, Amy. Where will you go? No matter, I'll track you
down. And wherever it is, I'll make sure these," she pointed at the
stack of videos," are given FREE OF CHARGE to EVERY
FUCKING VIDEO RENTAL STORE in a fifty mile radius.
Your new neighbors, new co-workers, new boyfriend, and yes,
your new BOSS will know just what you are, Amy Walenski. A
porn star. A slut into the kinkiest kinds of sex. You should be a
popular gal, Amy. You're right about the situation," Kathryn
acknowledged, "In Bentson you'll always have the reputation a
being a cheap little slut. But that's still better than being known as
an outright prostitute and porn star, isn't it my dear?"
Amy's last desperate smile disintegrated. She looked down.
Defeated.
"What do you want?" she whispered pitifully.
Kathryn reached out, stroking Amy's golden cheek. "Just what is
rightfully mine, what I have inherited from my father. I want
you, Amy. You're working for me from now on."
The young wife gasped and shook violently, shrinking from the
caress and shaking her head. Her mouth formed a horrified "O"
as comprehension settled on her. "You are offering me the choice
between being a slut or being known as a slut? No way. I'm not
working for you. There's no way. Let people talk-- it's still better
than, than, than," Amy couldn't verbalize what things she
imagined Kathryn would want from her, would have her do---
"Better than prison? Or maybe execution?" Amy stood up, sat
down. It was a bluff of some kind. What kind of stupidity was
this bitch babbling about now? But Kathryn's slate eyes were
narrowed in deadly earnest. She passed a stack of papers toward
Amy. It took her a minute to fix on them, what they were. As
she reviewed them, Kathryn filled in the last bitter details.
"Daddy's business dealings outside the community were
extensive. I believe you met some of his associates some time
ago. South American gentlemen very interested in laundering
some particularly dirty drug money through a bank in El Norte.
Daddy was happy to oblige-- for a fee.
But as you can see, his name isn't on those documents, the ones
opening the large commercial accounts in which their money was
washed."
Amy could see that. It was her name instead. She had willingly
signed the papers-- as a witness she had thought. But hers was
the only signature now-- just hers and those of the South
American "businessmen." Kathryn continued, in a stern, public
voice, from a law book produced from the bookshelf.
"Criminal Code Statute 77-A-551 states 'Any individual involved
in the transfer of moneys related to the sale of narcotics shall be
prosecuted as would an individual directly responsible for sales of
those illegal substances to the legal limit of the law.' That means
you go down for five million in drug sales, honey. Big time.
And there's a death penalty in this state. The war on drugs takes
no prisoners, Amy. And shows no mercy to drug dealing scum---
like you." Kathryn gently took all the documents and placed
them back in the safe.
"But I didn't-- I never-- how could I--" Amy half-mumbled, half-
whined.
"You worked in the bank-- the perfect cover. Signing documents
was a regular part of your duties. You simply took the
opportunity to make some money on the side-- a bribe maybe.
Drugs maybe. Who cares why you did it? You're just a slut--
nobody would be surprised, believe me," Kathryn promised her
with certainty.
"So, Amy-- what's it to be? Slut or convict? Either way I'm
delighted. Even if you do chose to go the can, how long do you
think you could stand being some diesel dyke's bedmate? How
long before you begged me to arrange a pardon?" Kathryn
reached out to caress her former classmate.
But this time, Amy did not shirk from the caress. She endured it.
As she would learn to endure a whole new kind of living hell.
Being a slave to a man had been unbearable. Amy could only
imagine what being the possession of a woman would be like,
especially one like Kathryn. Unremitting sheer agony. But there
was no longer a choice. Like her father before her, Kathryn had
laid out the facts. Prison would be worse, far worse.
"I have something in mind for you Amy. I'll need a tarty
secretary to attend to my needs as I run Daddy's business
concerns. You'll do quite nicely I think. You'll obey my
commands, do I'll the things I've thought about doing to you since
you crossed me. Both in the office and after-hours. I have soooo
many ideas, Amy. You'll be surprised. Creativity runs in my
family that way." Kathryn's blood red lips offered her prize a
ripsaw smile.
"And you'll soon learn that there's just one difference between me
and Daddy. I always thought he was too, too much of a softy."
With that promise made, Kathryn opened the top desk drawer and
pulled out a riding crop. She pushed her chair back and patted
her lap.
"Ready to learn your first lesson, Amy?"
Amy rose unsteadily. She had been here before, it was deja vu.
"Y-yes, Ms. Baines," she answered, void of resistance. The
words came easily now that her fate was sealed.
"A smile, if you please, Amy."
Amy reached into her recent memory, found all the equipment
she'd need-- the feelings of worthlessness, the whorish eagerness
to obey and please, the humiliating wetness between her legs
spreading... Amy Walenski let it all fall naturally, comfortably
into place: the smile-leer, the misty kept-woman eyes, the licking
lips, the out-thrust chest. The pants were pulled down, the blouse
removed without even an order. With docile resignation, the
secretary draped herself over her new mistress's lap.
As Kathryn let the crop fall, Amy tensed. Then she began to sob
helplessly, then she began to beg for mercy. Kathryn merely
smirked, as she stroked the hard crop against the small, shapely
ass of her new pet.
"He would have wanted it this way, don't you think, Amy?"
