Her Basement

by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2001, 2009

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons
Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In
jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United
States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to
Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are
explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission
note must remain attached. 

Abstract: His neighbor is keeping something in the basement; sometimes you
shouldn't indulge your curiosity 

 The animal in the basement was whimpering again.

My next-door neighbor kept some sort of animal, I thought perhaps a dog, in her
basement. For the last month I would be awakened at odd hours by a whimpering
sound coming from there. I hadn't actually seen the dog, but then I worked
during the day. I really intended to talk to her about the noise, but I'd never
introduced myself and this didn't seem to be the right way to do it. 

Then my company got bought out by a foreign outfit, and we all found ourselves
on a three-week unexpected paid vacation while they "reviewed options for local
personnel". I wasn't too worried, since good database administrators with web
experience are hard to come by. Still, I now found myself at loose ends at 8 in
the morning instead of hitting the road with the rest of the work crowd. 

I decided this made for a good opportunity, and so a little after 9:30 I found
myself, neatly dressed in slacks and shirt, ringing the doorbell of my
neighbor's house. After a few minutes, as I was about to give up, the door
opened and a rather attractive-looking matron dressed in a nondescript
front-button housecoat, her hair done up in a neat bun, looked at me
inquiringly. "Yes?" she asked. 

I introduced myself, and her attitude became noticeably warmer. "Oh yes, of
course. Well, I'm Helen; won't you come in? I was just fixing tea, if you'll
have some." I followed her in and took a look around the house. Nice, neatly
decorated, nothing particularly striking about it. We wandered toward the back
of the house and into the kitchen, where a tea kettle was whistling. She
continued, "Aren't you generally at work during the day? I've been here some
time and your house is always so quiet." I explained about my work situation,
and since she had now mentioned the subject of quiet, I had my opportunity. I
asked her about the pet in the basement. 

There was an odd, strained silence, and an indecipherable look came across her
face. "Pet? I don't have any pets." 

I explained about the sounds I had heard during the night, and she shook her
head. "The night air carries sounds a good distance; I'm sorry about your being
awoken, but I really don't know what you were hearing." I think she could tell
I wasn't completely convinced, but I thanked her all the same for straightening
me out. 

We continued our tea and chatted about the neighborhood, city politics, how we
came to be here. Somewhere between the second and third pot I learned that her
husband had died some years back, so she had moved here to get away from the
old memories. I sympathized as best as I could, having never gotten past the
serious dating stage myself. That got my mind sidetracked, and I took a second
look at her face, realizing that her eyes really were quite striking. 

"... woolgathering?" I shook myself, realizing that I hadn't been paying
attention to what she was saying. "I'm sorry," I replied, "something you said
just sent my mind on a tangent." She smiled accepting my apology, and repeated
herself. "I was remarking that it's really quite important to know one's
neighbors, even in the best of neighborhoods. Sometimes you need a hand around
the house, and you never know just who the person next door will turn out to
be." I nodded at that; then put my hands up against my temples to steady my
head. 

 "Is something wrong?" she asked with some concern.

I mumbled something about the tea being too strong, I thought. She offered to
let me lie down on her couch if I needed, but I declined. "It's okay, I've
taken up so much of your morning already. I'll just be toddling on back..." I
tried standing up, and my headache got seriously worse. I stumbled, and she
took my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "No, no I must insist," she said
overriding my objections. "You're in no condition right now." I followed her
meekly to the drawing room, and she helped me lie back on the couch. "I'll just
leave the lights off, now, and you can come find me when you're feeling
better." 

I thanked her weakly, and let my eyes close. The room was pleasantly cool, and
I heard her footsteps clicking faintly away... 

I opened my eyes once, thinking I was hearing voices, but the room was blurry
and it felt so much better just to lie back on the couch... Eventually I felt a
hand on my cheek, and opened my eyes to see her face inspecting me, those large
brown eyes focused on mine. "Are you feeling better now?" I sat up tentatively,
and my head stayed fastened to my shoulders. "I think so." I stood up, and
everything seemed to be more or less normal. "Thank you," I said with some
embarrassment, "I don't know quite what came over me. I must be coming down
with something." She shrugged her shoulders, and suggested that I might also
have been sensitive to something in the herbal tea. 

She led me to the front door, and shook my hand warmly as I took my leave. "Do
drop in again," she added with a smile, "it's so nice to know someone who's
home during the day." I thanked her again, and headed back to my own house,
where I noticed with some surprise I'd spent the entire morning over there. I
took two aspirin and took a long nap, waking late in the afternoon and feeling
much better. 

I went out to dinner that evening and caught a movie, and got a good night's
sleep, undisturbed by any sounds from my neighbor's basement, or wherever they
had been coming from. 

 *** *** ***

I spent the next day in the back yard, fixing the gutters and cleaning out some
accumulated debris. At one point I thought I was being watched, but I looked
around and decided I just wasn't dealing well with not being at work. I did
more shopping than usual, seeing no reason to blow my budget on eating out when
I was just going to be home most of the day. I fixed a few casseroles and fried
up some chicken breasts so I'd have something convenient whenever I got hungry,
then celebrated by going out to dinner. Hey, I never claimed to be consistent. 

About three in the morning I woke up, alert. The sounds were there again;
vague, animal noises. I went to my window and opened it, listening. It still
sounded like it was coming from her basement. 

Coming to a decision, I got dressed in dark clothes and quietly went out my
back door. Outside of the usual traffic noises, nothing was audible. I went
around the side of my house to the front edge of the mutual fence, looked
around to verify that nobody was around, and crept around the side of her house
to the spot near her back patio where I could see the top of a window sunk into
the ground. On closer inspection, I could tell it had been painted from the
inside, but age had cracked the paint and there were faint traces of light
coming through. 

About that time I heard the sound again. It was definitely a whimpering, like a
dog trying to get through a closed door. Up close, I could now hear something
like a voice, although no words were distinguishable. Then there was silence
again, and after a few minutes I decided discretion was calling for me to get
back home. I turned at the edge of the fence, and looked at her house, but
there was no sign of activity other than the faintest bit of illumination
limning the basement window. 

I lay awake, listening, for fifteen more minutes, but nothing else disturbed
the night and I finally fell back to sleep. 

 *** *** ***

The next morning I got a phone call from Helen. "I'm sorry to bother you, but
I'm having a problem with my cable, and I don't want to call out the service
unless I have to, they take so long. Would you by any chance know anything
about it?" I told her that I wasn't a cable TV specialist, but that I'd done my
time tracing connection problems with computers and that I'd be glad to give it
a look-see. 

When her door opened and I saw Helen again, I took a step back in surprise. The
drab housecoat in which she had first greeted me was gone; instead she was
dressed in a well-cut silk blouse and a nicely contrasting suede skirt, one
which demonstrated that she had legs to be proud of. She was still wearing her
hair in that teacher-style bun, though. I pulled myself back together and took
her proffered hand, entering the house as she held the door open. She led me to
the back bedroom where the troublesome television set was located, and stayed
as I got down and rummaged around the back looking at the connections.
Eventually I was able to find a spot where part of the cable had been frayed
and had shorted to the ground sheath. Maybe five minutes later, I was standing
up wiping some sweat off my forehead and telling her "Okay, if that works you
won't have to call the cable guys." 

She turned the television on, bringing forth a loud blast of static and fuzz,
then she hit the channel button and we got a legitimate picture from CNN,
followed in quick order by a country music video, an old Sixties cartoon (and I
won't embarrass myself by admitting which one), a dimly lit dungeon scene with
a scantily-dressed woman in shackles against the wall, a soap opera in Spanish,
and the weather channel. 

"Seems to be working," she said finally with a pleased tone. "Thank you so
much, I really hate to impose like this, let me do something for you. How about
a home-cooked dinner?" 

I tried to demur, but we went into the kitchen and had some juice drinks
together, her suede skirt moving enticingly as she leaned over the sink, and
before I knew it I was agreeing to come by her house at eight. 

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, other than an increasing sense of
unease on my part. I couldn't decide whether I was reading signals from Helen,
or just reacting to not having been on a date in over three months. I could
just imagine myself saying something inappropriate and finding myself out on my
ear. After lunch I suddenly decided that I needed to get a haircut, and after
that I went through my closet to find a slacks and shirt combination that was
halfway dressy but not showy, and took a much longer shower than usual. 

At eight promptly, I rang Helen's doorbell and waited. My wait was rewarded
this time, and I was glad I'd decided to improve my appearance. Helen had let
her hair down in a glorious cascade around her shoulders, she was wearing some
sort of makeup that emphasized her already striking eyes, and the light blue
dress she was wearing put the lie to my first impression of her as "matronly".
It wasn't blatant by any means, but it clung to her in spots and left the
imagination free to wander in others. 

I'll admit my imagination was wandering during dinner. I'm not sure what we
talked about, but the food was good and the wine set it off nicely. Too much
wine, perhaps, because I offered to help clear the dishes but found myself
getting dizzy when I tried to stand up. Helen helped me back into my seat, and
took the plate from in front of me. "Take it easy, there," she told me, "I'll
just be a few minutes downstairs taking care of some things, then we can have
dessert." 

The room was definitely off kilter, so I was glad to take that advice. I heard
her open a door, followed by the sound of footsteps clicking more and more
faintly. Minutes passed, and I slowly realized it had been some time without
her coming back. 

I pushed myself up onto none-too-steady feet, and went toward the kitchen to
see what had happened. I saw a pie ready for cutting, but not Helen. I opened a
door which turned out to be a walk-in pantry, with another door at its back. I
opened that hesitantly. "Helen?" I called, but got no reply. I could see the
stairs dimly outlined from the pantry light, and took slow careful steps
downward into the gloom of the basement. My balance was none too good, and my
own footsteps seemed to echo oddly. Finally, the stairs ended and I assured
myself I was on solid ground. I felt around for a light switch. 

 What my palm landed on instead was a firm, warm, hard-nippled breast.

While I was still reacting to that, something soft was held over my mouth and
nose and everything around me faded out. 

 *** *** ***

 My shoulders hurt.

That was the first thing I noticed. Shortly after that, my body told me that it
was feeling chill air flowing in places that shouldn't be exposed to the air. I
opened my eyes blearily. I was standing against a cold wall, naked, my wrists
above my head and slightly behind me. I tugged on them; something was holding
them up. I tried to move my feet; something was keeping my ankles spread out
similarly. 

The next thing that occurred to me was that there was light now; a dim, murky
light. Familiar... then a picture came to my mind. The dungeon scene on Helen's
television set. But if I was the one in the shackles here, then who...? 

A throat was cleared, and I looked to my left. It took me several moments to
recognize the woman standing there as Helen. For one thing, she was nude.
Gloriously nude, full breasts, broad hips, a neatly trimmed triangle, long
legs. Technically I suppose she wasn't totally nude, but her heels only
emphasized the rest of her appearance. She stood in command of the room, with a
look that brooked no questions. Kneeling at her feet was another woman,
younger, also nude, with a dark collar around her neck and something filling
her mouth. 

Helen spoke up. "About time you came to. I must say, I didn't expect you to
make it all the way downstairs. No, save the complaints and protests; I'm going
to talk and you're going to listen." She pointed to the girl at her feet. "This
is Jennifer. Jennifer and I have something in common -- my former husband. It
turns out he was cheating on me, and had the poor taste to have a heart attack
while they were going at it. Poor Jennifer here lost her head and called the
first number she found in his wallet -- which was mine." 

The girl shook her head and a whimpering sound came out around the thing in her
mouth. Helen prodded the girl from behind with the toe of her shoe, and the
sounds ceased. Helen continued, "I brought Jennifer with me when I moved here.
Since she took my husband from me, she owes me a lot. And I'll admit, she has
her uses. Her mouth, for example, is very talented." 

Helen bent down and unfastened a strap, and pulled a penis-shaped gag out of
the girl's mouth. "Jennifer here is going to keep you entertained for a while.
I looked at your shoes when you were working on my television set. I found it
so interesting that they matched the shoeprints I found that morning in the
ground outside the little basement window." 

Jennifer was crawling toward me on her hands and knees while Helen was
speaking, and the top of her head brushed upward against my balls, followed by
her cheek, then her lips. She took me into her mouth, and I groaned at the
sensation. Helen was still talking: "I really don't want to have to move again;
it took me some time to find a house with a usable basement, and I don't let
Jennifer out of the house for obvious reasons." 

She was right about the girl's talent; I don't think I ever had a blow job as
slow, exquisite, and teasing as this one. I didn't wonder that Helen's husband
had keeled over. I tried to thrust my hips forward, but Jennifer just moved
back in rhythm with me and continued her slow, teasing pace. 

"So when you started raising a fuss about noises in the basement, what was I to
do? Other than have a long session with Jennifer here about being quiet at
night. We had to give you a bigger cock to suck on after that, didn't we Jen?"
Jennifer shuddered and swallowed, and that almost pushed me over the edge, but
she squeezed my cock at the base and held me until the moment passed. 

I was going crazy with lust, my legs hurt from straining, and my cock felt like
it would burst. I wanted nothing more than to slam myself into Jennifer's mouth
and cum until I was empty, but she kept me just a whisper away from that
release. Helen now sounded as if she were speaking from everywhere in the room,
and my world was shrinking to the lips around my cock and the voice in my ears.
"I decided that the only way to deal with you was to have you join our little
family. I can certainly use a handyman around here. Behave, and you'll find out
that I've got more talents than our little Jennifer here, and any number of
creative ways to use them. Who knows, maybe you can even spend some nights in
your own bed. Otherwise..." 

My breathing had taken on a frantic panting quality, and my groin was throbbing
with unreleased semen needing to come out. 

"I'm going upstairs to have a nice bath and watch some television. I think you
know the channel. Jennifer has strict instructions not to let you cum, and
she's gotten very good at following instructions. When I come back downstairs,
you can tell me if you'd like to follow my lead." 

 She turned and walked away, her ass flexing as she moved up the stairs.

Jennifer continued her ministrations, speeding up and slowing down as if she
knew my body better than I did myself. 

 The animal in the basement was whimpering again.

 I was the one whimpering.

/END/