Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: The Risks of Foreclosure
Part: 2 of 2
Universe: The Risks of Foreclosure
Summary: Roger Smithson offers a financial transaction to help a down on their
luck family -- and ends up buying a lot more than a house!

Keywords: MF D/s oral

Chapter 2

	It was nearly midnight before we had a contract with all of the
wrinkles in it -- two, actually, since I had to write Rachel's 'personal
services' contract.  I made it as vague as she requested, indicating that her
continued residence in the house was contingent upon her fulfilling duties
including, but not limited to, those of a cook, a maid, and a housekeeper, and
that she would be required to perform similar activities at other locations as
necessary and at my discretion.  Clem read this all over and indicated that he
thought it was a lttle loose, but Rachel flared, "It's MY contract, and I'M
satisfied!" so he shut up.  I took him aside and told him that if I was going
to get her to leave, she was going to have to take some heat -- and he
understood that.  The issue went away.

	As for the house, I would take over payments, pay back payments,
penalties, and interest, clear up the credit cards, and pay off the truck,
plus provide Clem and Rachel each $2500.00.  Clem and Art's new jobs and
living situations came under a separate employment agreement -- one that
everyone understood rested solely upon their ability to deliver on their
construction ability.

	I got the house -- cheap, since the mortgage wasn't that bad --
carpenters, and a maid, cook -- and, if the advertising was at all correct, a
good deal more.  Temporarily, at least, I got the use of the house, which
meant that I saved on hotel rooms.  Everyone signed on the dotted line and I
headed back to the hotel.

	My lawyer and my accountant hated the deal.  In the first place, if I
lived in the house, I couldn't take the mortgage payment as a business expense
-- unless I left things in Rachel's name and pretended to rent from her.  This
left my ass hanging out, obviously; there were ways around it, though.
Eventually, I ended up paying rent to a holding company (owned by me) that was
the mortgagee from an assignment perspective.  My apartment continued to be my
residence, as previously planned.  "If you want to turn deals like this," my
lawyer warned, "better give to charity big because you'll soon be living in a
shelter."  I didn't argue.  On the other hand, I felt good about helping
everyone.

	I went by in the afternoon and picked up Clem and Art and took them to
the store downtown.  Clem looked at the plans and said, "Yeah, we got this.  I
know a guy who can bless the rough electrical and another guy for the
plumbing -- we can do the work, but they'll put their stamp on it for the
building department for a few bucks.  That way you get it cheaper than their
rate, but they make a few bucks they didn't have to break their backs for."

	"Sounds good," I agreed.  If Clem delivered, I might have my local
contractor.  We went upstairs to look at the apartments.  They were in poor
shape, but livable; the plan was to do upgrades so the rent would go up,
eventually, but Clem and Art could move in now and work on them after the
store remodel.  I let them know that if they did well, they could take their
time doing the apartments, because I'd be giving them other, higher-priority
work.  In the meantime, the rent -- discounted -- came out of their end, which
should still leave them in positive numbers.  "What about meals and stuff?"
Clem asked.

	"Meaning Rachel?" I queried.  "That's more or less up to her.  I heard
things that indicated that she might like to be on her own for a while; you
might want to limit visits and handing her loads of laundry and such. In any
case, due to our agreement, I come first -- and I plan to enforce it."

	Clem grunted.  "Given what you're giving up, that's fair.  Actually,
she ain't the only on who's been hurtin' socially over our arrangement.  I
might be able to swing a new live-in if I can prove I ain't keeping it in the
family..."

	"There you go..." I slapped him on the shoulder and he grinned.  Art,
the shadow, grinned, too.


	I spent the rest of the day making payments here and there and
clearing up the Harkness' various debts.  The bank was thrilled to death; they
had way too many problems like this, and my first sortie said I wasn't the
usual shark.  The truck was already repo bait; it took some quick phone calls
by the loan officer at the auto credit company to keep it from disappearing
from the driveway while Clem and Art were loading their personal belongings
into it.

	At six, I got a telephone call -- from Rachel.  "Supper's ready."

	"Oh."  I didn't have anything intelligent to say -- I was too
surprised.

	"Something wrong?"

	"No, I just wasn't expecting it," I replied honestly.

	"Things seem to be all set," Rachel murmured.  "Clem and Art dumped
all of their stuff in the truck this afternoon.  I was kind of surprised at
how quick they got out -- and how little it took.  I'd take a week,
probably."

	"Guys are different, I guess," I chuckled.

	"I guess.  What about you?  When are you coming?"

	"For dinner?" I asked.

	"No, silly -- moving in!"

	"I, ah..."  This conversation wasn't going well.  "Let's talk about it
at dinner.  Frankly, they surprised ME, too!  They're all out?"

	"Uh huh.  I cleaned their rooms, too.  You're probably gonna want to
decide which one will be your office.  Then you'll want to look at all of the
bedrooms..."

	"All of them?"

	"You might want mine," she replied.

	"Maybe."  That might push her some.  "We'll see."

	"Come to dinner," she directed.  "It's meatloaf -- is that all right?"

	"Yeah, that's fine.  I'll be along in a few minutes."  Home cooking!
I found myself drooling.  I collected my stuff and closed up my temporary
office and headed for the house.


	Rachel was braless again; I found myself wondering if she'd gone
braless a lot with her brothers in the house.  She was in a skirt, too, but
the apron kind of muted things.  Dinner was stick to the ribs type comfort
food -- the meatloaf, potatoes, gravy, green beans, rolls...  We stumbled a
little over drinks; I thought the meal warranted beer, which surprised Rachel
-- and then it turned out there was only light beer in the house.  Bless her
heart, she took notes on my preferences...  I survived Bud Lite; I know she
was pleased that I only drank one.  "My ex drank," she related.  "And he got
mean doing it."

	"I have limits, and I generally stay within them," I told her.
"You'll know I'm comfortable with you if you ever catch me tipsy.  Falling
down drunk?  Don't hold your breath!"  She liked that -- I could tell.

	After dinner, she put me in the living room with the TV remote in my
hand while she cleaned up -- but I can take TV or leave it.  I broke out my
laptop to check on my investments -- but they didn't have WI-FI.  Rachel got
it on the first pass.  "Tell me what you need and I'll order it tomorrow," she
told me.  "We don't want to hold you up."  They had cable, so it wouldn't be
difficult; I told her just tell them we need broadband and a wireless router.
She took notes once again, then she looked up and asked, "Is that it?  Once
that's in, can you work?  Can you move in?"

	I hesitated.  "Ummm, tell them to put in two phone lines -- might as
well get it all from one place in one of those bundle deals."

	"We got telephone..."

	"It will save money if it's all on one bill," I told her.  "We'll
cancel the other service once we're up and running.  You won't know the
difference."

	"Okay," she nodded, distracted.  "And then?"

	"Yeah.  Then, I guess, I can..."

	She cocked her head.  "What is there about me that scares you so?"

	"I just don't have a lot of time in the cockpit wth women," I husked.

	"I probably need my license renewed with men," Rachel replied, smiling
wryly.  "But it'll be easy, I'm sure."  She stood.  "Why don't we look at the
bedrooms?  I'll need to know which one you'll want for an office..."  She
turned to head off, so I got out of the chair and followed her.

	I figured it was cut and dried -- office equipment in Art's old room,
a bed in Clem's.  It wasn't -- not as far as Rachel was concerned.  I had to
see her room -- and she had to run scenarios where she moved her stuff to
Clem's or Art's.  "Why would you want to move?" I asked her.

	"I don't," she replied, "but you're in charge here, and your needs
come first.  Frankly, there's a simpler solution..."

	"That being?"  As if I didn't know...

	Her eyes told me that she knew that I knew.  "We could save on
bedclothes and such..."

	"Oh?"

	"Of course..."  She pinned me with her eyes.  "Come on, Roger -- why
do I have to do all the work?  Am I THAT ugly?"

	"Ugly?" I blinked.  "That isn't it.  I just can't figure out why you
want to throw yourself at me.  It's... disconcerting."

	"Well, if you would make a move, I could fall into your clutches --
but you haven't."  She eased closer.  "I've tried to make this clear -- I know
good and well that I've asked a lot of you and put you out.  I owe you.  If
you sell this place tomorrow, what will you make?"

	I decided upon honesty.  "Probably forty thousand dollars."

	Her eyes popped.  "What COULD you have made, if you hadn't sweetened
the offer like you did?"

	"Almost sixty."

	"That's a lot of money.  Don't you think you deserve more?  I do..."

	"That's... exploitation.  I'd be inviting a lawsuit," I stammered.

	"It isn't exploitation if I want it, is it?" she asked softly.  "I do,
you know..."

	"It... could be... entrapment..."

	"But it isn't."  She started unbuttoning her blouse.  "Well, maybe it
is, but it's a much older game than any old real estate thing..."

	"What?"  They sat low on her chest, looking underinflated, but they
were breasts -- and she had big, thick, chewy-looking brown nipples that sat
up where they should be, pointing at me rather than dripping off the bottom.
The blouse slid off her arms and hit the floor.

	"You come in here like the white knight and fix things so I don't owe
anyone and my brothers don't owe anyone and you bend over backwards to let me
stay here -- I think you deserve me, don't you?"  I shook the lock her nipples
had on my eyes, only to get them captured again by her big brown orbs.  "You
can't rape the willing -- besides, you OWN me!"

	"That paper just says..."

	"... What I wanted it to say -- and it says you own me.  That's how I
interpret it -- and it doesn't bother me a bit!  Do you need to beat me or
something?  My ex was into that..."

	"WHAT?"

	"Oh, dear.  I've shocked you.  Please don't be mad..."  She came
forward and tucked herself against me -- and, idiot that I was, I wrapped my
arms around her and started rubbing her bony back.

	"He beat you?" I muttered, my brain preoccupied with that while my
body took inventory of her flesh.

	"When I screwed up," she murmured into my armpit.  "Sometimes, I
screwed up on purpose.  Sometimes he was just capricious."  She gazed up at
me.  "Some women like to be... controlled..."

	I remembered holding her head in my hands and pulling her mouth over
my cock until it entered her throat.  I remembered her asking me to do it.  I
remembered how it made me feel...

	Her eyes glowed.  "He's in there, isn't he?  The animal who wants
complete control.  The beast that wants to take what is his.  You couldn't be
successful without it..."  She licked her lips.  "Come on..."

	She got that look in her eye, and BANG!  That plain-faced, emaciated
little slip was suddenly the most desirable woman in the world!  I don't know
who the fuck I became; I heard my voice croak, "Get naked!"  I pushed her away
just far enough to be able to grab her nipples and maul them between my thumbs
and forefingers.  They were tough and gristly and swollen -- and incredible to
the touch.  Rachel's eyes never left mine as she unzipped and stepped out of
her skirt -- which turned out to be all she had on!

	She was skin and bone, but she had a woman's hips and a tight little
ass and a furry little beaver pelt.  I let go of a nipple to riffle it with my
fingers and grunted, "Cute!  Shave it off..."  Part of me couldn't believe I'd
said it, but she just asked, "Now?"

	"Tomorrow," I told her.  "I'll want to watch."  I didn't know the guy
who was talking, but he was using my mouth...  "Kneel," he said.  "Suck.  If
you're good, maybe I'll try out that dried-up old pussy..."  The guy had no
fucking manners at all...

	Rachel just got on her knees and started tearing at my pants, her
glowing eyes never leaving mine until the guy said, "Don't look at me!  Look
at my cock!  You get your direction from it!"  She shifted her focus without
comment and I got the benefit as her lips rolled over my glans for the second
time in two days.

	The guy owned my hands; he put one behind Rachel's head and proceeded
to mash it against me, impaling her throat with my meat.  Rachel coughed and
choked and gurgled and waved her arms for a second -- then she put her hands
on my ass cheeks and pulled herself even deeper!

	"Yeah, that's it!" my unseen ventriloquist croaked.  "Time for a face
fuck!"  He took her head in my hands and proceeded to ream her throat with my
cock..  Rachel made a sort of "Glaa...Glaa... Glaa..." and other choking and
gargling noises, but she didn't fight it.  I'd seen that kind of thing in porn
videos, but never imagined myself doing it -- but those were my hands and that
was my dick...  "Play with your twat," he growled.  "Get all of the cobwebs
out of the fucking thing and get it wet..."  'Pretty rude,' I thought, but
Rachel just put both hands in her crotch and started rubbing and fondling.

	For the next couple of minutes I enjoyed the results of the mean
bastard's efforts -- then he pushed her away and yelled, "Get up, slut!  Go
climb on the bed and kneel up like a bitch!"  Rachel was up like a shot and I
turned to watch her arrange herself.  "Back it up!" he growled, and I shambled
over to her to be close by when he got ready to fuck her.

	Rachel's cunt was wet and pink and swollen -- ripe, was the term that
came to mind.  One of us grabbed her hip and I held my cock in position to
push it into her open hole while he dragged her back by the hip and drove us
forward...  into a smoking hot pulsing massage tunnel for man-meat!

	I'd never had a virgin, but Rachel felt pretty damned close!  It was a
fight to get in and a fight to get back out -- and we were fighting like
nobody's business!  Rachel grunted and gasped and I didn't know whether she
loved it or hated it -- and at least one of me didn't care!  I started long-
stroking her, watching my cock appear and disappear in her tunnel while she
grunted with every impact of my crotch against her bony ass -- and it was me
doing it, not someone else.  The other guy faded away or we merged or some
damned thing; all I know is that I had control, such as it was, and was riding
her gash Hell bent for leather!  "Uh!  Uh!  Uh!" she grunted.  I was damned if
I was going to stop!  Then she went "Ogod!  OGOD!  FUUUUCKK!!!"  And her head
came up and she screamed, "EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" and her cunt grabbed my dick and
would NOT let go!  Suddenly, I was trying to push a two inch diameter cock
through a one and three-quarter inch pipe -- and if I thought PUSHING was
hard, getting it out was...

	It was too much!  THAT's what it was!  Too much pressure, too much
tension, too much sensation; I erupted into her steaming twat so hard it felt
like the flood was ripping the inner lining of my urethra out!  That fire hose
blast hit Rachel's cervix and she let out another banshee wail, then her front
end dropped flat on the bed, leaving me holding her up by the hips while I
gushed and gushed and gushed...

	When I finished, I stood there on shaky legs, rubbing a hand over the
small of her bony back, muttering, "Hey, hey, hey..."  Stupid. maybe, but my
brain hadn't had any blood supply for several minutes, at least.  In a minute,
she stirred and groaned, "Omigawd!" and turned her head to gaze at me with
eyes full of wonder -- and I knew I was well and truly fucked!  I'd never be
rid of her!  Aw, shit, I didn't WANT to be, really, anyway...  "That was..."
She stopped, and I knew it was because she didn't have any words -- because I
didn't either!

	My cock plopped out of her puffy cunt, well and truly drained, and I
staggered back.  Her eyes got big and she wailed, "Don't go!" -- and I knew I
couldn't...

	"I'm gonna go pee and turn off the light," I muttered.  Rachel flopped
on her side and watched me leave the room, clearly scared to death that I
would keep going.

	I didn't.  I went to pee as advertised.  I was pissing a blue streak
when she stuck her head around the doorframe of the bathroom door to pin me
with those eyes of hers.  "Do you need to go?" I asked.

	"I need to drip out some," she muttered.  "I'm flooded."

	I nodded and shook the dew off.  "I'm wasted."

	"Just... go back to bed," she pled, her eyes on mine.  "Please."

	"I don't know if I can sleep with someone else in bed with me," I
muttered -- but I went back in and lay down...

	I needn't have worried; I woke up with a noseful of brown hair and a
handful of breast flesh and my cock erect along a bony ass-crack.  I stirred a
bit and she opened sleepy eyes and smiled and said, "More?"

	"Promise me you'll gain weight," I begged her.  "The bones are killing
me!"

	She laughed and turned that Mona Lisa look on me and said, "I
promise."


	She did.  She's pretty plush right now -- motherhood helped.  I have a
pair of big-eyed, dark-haired daughters, one three and one five years old --
and a son in the making.  The house is plenty big enough for our family.  Clem
and Art run the property management end of things -- and Art is married, now.
I own a couple of dozen houses, and have bought and sold a couple of dozen
more -- money is not a problem.  Yet.  Sometimes the bad guy shows up for a
visit, but most nights it's just good sex.  Rachel's rack puffed back out for
little Angela and I made sure it never went back down; she has the sweet
titties I originally saw in that picture on her end table.  We have a simple
system:  I'm in charge, but she gets her way.  It works...