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From: anakha@clara.net (anakha)
Subject: Best Of The Net: REPOST - NEW Mortgage 6/10 (nc, m/f, f/f, bd)
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***************************************************************************
Hi,

I have been downloading stuff from Usenet for some time and haven't
really been putting an awful lot back so I decided it was time to
repost the stuff I have.

There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly it is for those who
have only started using Usenet since the stories I have were
originally posted, secondly for those who may simply have missed them
first time round and lastly my contribution to fighting the ever
increasing spam which now saturates all of the sex newsgroups.

The vast majority of the stories I post will be plain bondage
orientated with a few subfem & femdom ones thrown in. Anything a
little stronger in terms of s&m isn't really my scene so there won't
be much like that. Also please note I am NOT the author of any of the
stories so the copyright notices of ALL of the original authors still
apply. (Also there is nothing that I can see from the original post
which says I can't repost this story. If you are the author and you do
NOT want it reposted then I suggest you let me, & everyone else,
know).

I hope you enjoy whatever I do post.

Bye for now. 

Anakha
http://home.clara.net/anakha/index.html
****************************************************************************
Subject: NEW Mortgage 6/10 (nc, m/f, f/f, bd)
From: an225040@anon.penet.fi (marlissa)
Date: Sun, 23 Jul 1995 14:34:07 UTC
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

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
occurrences in this fiction are completely fictitious.

The Mortgage- PART SIX, by Marlissa

She was there waiting for him when he entered his office at eight
thirty seven.  The coffee, still steaming, was waiting for him,
welcoming him to a new day at the bank.  Beside his desk, his new
secretary waited patiently, holding a small note pad and pencil, ready
for any task he gave her.

She had taken instruction well-- a good sign so early on.  The pink
tank top ended midriff, displaying her flat pale tummy.  He made a
mental note to have her go to a tanning salon on a regular basis-- he
liked a healthy golden glow.  Underneath her small pert breasts
stretched the material a bit more than yesterday.  The bandaid sized
black spandex miniskirt hugged her slim hips jealously though
inadequate to the job of hiding her charms.  Bending over for Amy
would be quite a dilemma in that skirt.  He guessed the patterned
black stockings were thigh-highs, the rose pattern creeping naughtily
up between her coltish legs, promising, promising to give up all her
secrets underneath...  He nodded at the now mandatory black high
heels, a cheap open toed black patent leather pair that revealed her
newly painted red toenails.  

The rest of Amy was transformed too.  The prim mousy young housewife
from the previous day was gone.  The straight brown hair that had hung
midway down her back was now curled, teased wildly and heavily
sprayed.  Wild tresses framed the face, spilling and shaking
enticingly with every spare motion.  The eyeshadow was blue, the
"Ivory fresh" look replaced by lots of blush, foundation and
penciling.  It would take her an hour and a half every morning just to
get ready for work, he thought.  The lips were brightly painted with a
fire engine red lipstick, which matched the nail polish she now wore.
Cheap plastic bangles clattered gently now whenever she moved her
wrist.  The gold hoops were enhanced by the plastic red heart-shaped
post studs she now wore.  Baines winced, uncharacteristically, at the
thought of  a triple piercing.  The coup de grace were the items she
didn't wear today-- her engagement ring and wedding band.  Amy looked
like she might have just come from a meatmarket pick- up bar or some
sleazy discotheque, on a man prowl.

"Good morning, Amy.  You look very pretty today."  He made pretty
sound like a dirty word.

"Good morning Mr. Baines!  Thank you VERY much Mr. Baines," she
gushed.  The smile was pure 100% bedtime for bimbo.

He took his seat, while she remained standing, waiting.  "Did you talk
with Wendell?  I heard he's starting his new job tonight."

She bobbed her head.  "Yes, Sir.  He wanted to make an appointment
with you today to thank you for him...and me."

"Keep him waiting.  Maybe I can spare a minute after lunch.  Say, he
didn't have much luck with the Unemployment office, did he?" Baines
chided her.

The synthetic lusciousness of Amy's smile dimmed for a millisecond.
"Sir?"

"I know he kept trying to get another job and keep his unemployment
coming in.  But the law states that when you are offered a job, you
have to take it--- otherwise you forfeit your unemployment.  I let the
state office know that, because I wouldn't want Wendell to miss out on

such a good opportunity."

Amy's eyes were well-deep now.  At the bottom of the well was animal
fear of him, fear that he had known about Wendell's stubbornness to
taking the menial job Baines had set up for him.  If he could know
about that, then he would know...

"Did you two make love last night like I told you too?  Like two
little fuck bunnies I bet." Baines sneered.

Amy nodded brightly.  "Yes, Sir, we did."  

The memory of their lovemaking was painful.  Why was she crying,
Wendell asked.  We're so lucky-- we're going to keep our home! her
husband had tried to cheer her.  She had said she was just so, very,
very happy.  That was why she was crying.  Thank God Wendell had left
early for his human resources paperwork meeting at the factory and
wasn't there when Mr. Baines had called.  But of course, Mr. Baines
KNEW Wendell would be gone by then. 

Baines took it in amused stride.  "That's good.  From now on, I won't
allow it very often.  After I called you this morning, did you
douche?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Baines!  At once, just like you told me to, Sir!"

"Good girl.  And you did like I told you, Amy?"

It was hard to keep her smile plastered on her face.  It was slipping
now, the humiliation burning and building.  "Y-yes, Mr. Baines, I did.
J-just like you told me Sir."  Her face was blushing hotter than her
blush now.

Baines sipped his coffee. "Good.  Show me, then Amy."  He leaned back
in his chair to enjoy the show.

Quaking, she set the notepad down and put her hands on the midriff
trim of the tight pink top.  Jerkily she pulled it up and over her
head.  Looking up, she assumed the lingerie model smile and thrust her
chest out, hesitating only a second.  Her breasts were lovingly cupped
by a milky white brassiere, nuzzled by the confection of styled lace
and unseen wiring which gave her small bosom a curvy boost.  Between
the bra cups was a darling bright red rosette, the thin shoulder
straps similar decorated where they met the top of the cups.  It was a
romantic garment, not meant for everyday occasions. 

Baines nodded wordlessly.

Amy unzipped the tight miniskirt, feeling her hips pop out of the
confines of the strict, shaping material.  Baines had been right-- the
silky black stockings rode high up her thighs, ending incongruously
below a white thong panty.  The panty matched the bra, all virginal
white and almost innocent in it's schoolgirlishness.  The small white
silk panel was decorated with the delicate bright red rosette on each
hip and between the legs, where it was held by a single snap to the
thong between her legs.

"And you shaved I take it?"

Amy's head bobbed.  "Yes, Mr. Baines.  I'll keep it shaved from now
on, like you said to, Sir."  How would she explain to Wendell why she
kept her pussy shaved bare?  She would have to ask Mr. Baines for
ideas-- she was running out of them and she was sure he had an answer
for her to use.

Baines stood up, moving to the other side of the desk.  "And this what
you wore, Amy?"

She thought of the hotel room that night at Niagara Falls.  The
excitement, the thrill of dressing this way for her man, her husband
on their wedding night.  Of the way his eyes had shone with love for
her. Of the way she had surrendered to her husbands' love so easily,
so gratefully.

"Yes, Mr. Baines.  This was what I wore on my honeymoon for Wendell."
Keep the smile, don't cry, be brave...

Baines stroked the bra strap, then fingered the rosette between the
two cups.  It was the most intimate contact with Amy yet and she
involuntarily shrunk from it, then catching herself, reversed herself
and pressed the rosette back into Baine's hand.

"Adorable.  And now you must wear it for the new man in your life,
Amy-- me.  And you'll wear your honeymoon dainties for our first time
together too.  But after today, you will throw them out.  They aren't
appropriate for you anymore Amy.  White is for good little wifeys and
we both know you aren't that anymore.  Black and red, Amy-- slut
colors from now on."

Amy didn't answer.  The plastic smile, the frozen eyes downcast as she
watched Mr. Baines unzip his pants.

"Let's get to work then, shall we?  Bend over the desk, Amy." 

Outside the office, secretaries were busily preparing banking
documents, the clicking-clacking of computer printers and typewriters
filling the cavernous bank with the sounds of mortgages being
prepared, deeds being registered, statements being generated for
scores of homeowners.  Each and every day thousands of mortgages are
processed, each representing struggle, persistence and a whole change
of life. Owning property--it was The American Dream, a dream which had
just come true for one man, Robert Parker Baines.

In Part Seven, a death and Amy's shameful memories...


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