9 Paradise Lane

A young man faces some difficult decisions and has to deal with the consequences. What would you have done?

*

I made my way over to the Andersons' and pulled into the driveway.

"Ah, Paradise," I said, looking over the large estate.

I was there to do a little house-sitting and some dog-watching. My dad and Mr. Anderson were golfing buddies, and that's how I first got this $50.00 a night gig about three years ago. I know it doesn't sound it, but it's a cool job. I mean, I am a nineteen-year-old guy, and it's a Friday party night, but the Andersons had a sweet pad. They had lots of toys, a heated swimming pool, and a booming sound system. They also had this fully loaded bar that I was looking forward to exploring once again.

The best parts: It was easy money, I got to spend the night away from home, and I didn't have to worry about drinking and driving.

The worst: I had to party alone because my parents were only a mile away, and I knew they drove by to make sure I wasn't throwing a bash.

"Ah, fuck!" I cried out, forgetting that I wasn't supposed to park in the driveway. "It had to be one of HER rules," I said to myself, backing into the street. I never understood it, but I figured the lady of the house, Mrs. Anderson, didn't like my beat up 72 Nova (it's a shit box) parked in her precious driveway.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the front door and there she was, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Anderson (I thought of her as the Ice Queen) greeted me, not with a friendly wave, but a beckon. I entered the house and was a little taken back as I looked her over. She was dressed in a red top (with a lot of cleavage!), black leather mini skirt,sheer white stockings, and black high heels.

(She was a fancy businesswoman in her forties so she usually sported formal attire.)

My eyes must have been bugging out of my head. I didn't even know that this woman had tits. When I finally lookedup, I saw her frosted blonde hair was teased, and her makeup was a lot heaver then normal. She was primped.

I was getting a little nervous, as something just didn't seem right. Usually when I get there, she coldly gives me a few instructions (no guests, don't touch anything, no snooping) and a lecture about caring for her stupid dog, which was nothing more than an oversized rat, and then she splits, without even saying goodbye.

She led me to the couch and sat next to me, but she couldn't seem to look me in the eye. I asked about her husband. I knew he was a pilot, but that was about it. She confirmed that he was overseas, and she said everything was fine there. But I still knew something wasn't right and that she probably wasn't wearing this getup for me. She was like 25 years older then me and always treated me like a paid servant.

"Although, anything is possible," I thought, moving a little closer to her on the couch.

"You see, Steven, I got myself in a bind," she said, finally looking up at me.

(Wow, she knew my first name.)

I shrugged my shoulders (trying to remember hers).

"At work," she continued. "Yeah, it's never happened to me before, and, I don't know, I just had to do something."

She got off the couch and started pacing in front of me. I was clueless. I knew she worked in real estate or land development, or something like that, and she seemed to make good money, at least she acted that way. She was blabbering, but her short skirt and the high heels didn't help my concentration any.

She stopped in front of me. "I really can't tell you details, but I'm in trouble with a bad man, who wants to do bad things."

"Bad things?" I mumbled, lifting my eyes to hers.

She smacked her lips. "Yeah.... Just look at how I'm dressed."

(I had been.) "Oh," I said, like I got it, but I still didn't.

She looked at me with exasperation. "Sex, you dummy. He wants sex, tonight."

"With you...? Oh." (Well, that explained her get-up, but I was confused as to why she was telling me.) "But you're married...."

"I know that! God, this has been the worst week of my life," she said, with a stomp of the foot (not too smart with high heels on), and she almost fell down. I had to contain my chuckle. She slid back down onto the couch and grabbed my hand and batted her green raccoon eyes. "Please, I need your help."

"Me?" I gulped.

"I need someone to help me."

"Help?"

"Yeah, watch my back. Make sure he doesn't hurt me."

"Hurt me? Ah, you?"

"Yeah. Like I said, he's a bad guy and I don't trust him. I mean, I agreed, but now I've changed my mind. I'm going to try reasoning with him. If he tries any kinky stuff I need you to put a stop to it."

"But how?" I asked, not liking the plan so far.

It only got worse when she opened a drawer on the table next to us. My eyes flew open. It looked like a gun. My hand shook as I pulled it out. It was indeed a gun, a small black handgun. I'd shot a shotgun before, but never even held a handgun. It seemed way more electrifying.

Mrs. Anderson's cell phone going off just then startled me, and I'm surprised I didn't shoot myself. She answered and gabbed on the phone while I just stared at the gun in my hands. I didn't know what kind it was, but I'm sure it was lethal.

Mrs. Anderson snapped her phone shut and let out a scream. "He's here!"

I snapped around, and through the window I saw a large black car parked in the driveway. Mrs. Anderson rushed over in a panic. "Don't let him hurt me!" She grabbed me and pushed me down the hall and into the master bedroom, screaming at me to hide.

Her last words: "Only come out IF I need your help."

She pushed me into a closet and quickly shut the bifold doors. My head was spinning. I'd never been so nervous in my life. The closet was dark and full of clothes, so the only place to stand was right were I was. If someone opened the doors, I was busted. I noticed that the doors were improperly hung (my Dad, who's a master carpenter, always said that bifold doors were a sign of new money and bad taste), so there was a little space between them. I could see the large bed, illuminated by the hall light.

Nervous minutes passed. I thought about how it was the first time I'd been in the master bedroom (I slept in the guest room) because usually it's locked, and here I was hiding in the closet with a gun in my hand, praying that I didn't have to use it, and wondering if I'd have the courage to use it if I had to. But mostly, I wondered how I got into this spot and how I could get out of it.

I lost track of time. I could hear some raised voices from time to time. I was praying that Mrs. Anderson was as savvy as she professed and could talk or argue her way out of it.

No such luck.

The light flipped on, and Mrs. Anderson came into the bedroom, followed by a short man in a black pinstriped suit.

"He's the bad guy?" I thought, expecting someone bigger.

He cleared his throat. "Get on the bed."

Mrs. Anderson moved over and started folding down the covers.

"No! Stand up, you stupid twit," he said, throwing the covers onto the floor.

She crawled to the center of the bed and then awkwardly stood up. It was a balancing act with the high heels on.

"Can I take these heels off?" she whined, using her hands on the ceiling to balance herself.

"Quiet!" he snapped. "I'm in charge here."

I heard another voice add, "Yeah, we picked them out just for yah."

I cringed. There were two of them...maybe more. I closed my eyes and said another quick prayer, hoping all those early Sunday mornings would pay off.

"Strip."

My eyes flew open hearing this command.

Mrs. Anderson shook her head. "Not like this."

The little guy raised his voice. "Take off your clothes, you stupid bitch or I'll tear them off, and maybe rip off a nipple or two. Like I said earlier, I'll fuck you conscious or unconscious, either way, your choice." (Yikes. I saw why she called him a bad guy.)

She looked down and tugged at her shirt. Then she looked up and right past the little guy pacing back and forth to my hiding spot. "Not like this, please."

My heart skipped a beat and I tightened the grip on the gun. ("What's she doing?")

Another man came into view and moved over to the edge of the bed. This was no little guy. He was wearing blackpants and a blue flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had to be the muscle. He certainly had the biceps for the job. He slowly raised his tattooed arm and snapped his fingers. Mrs. Anderson quivered and lifted her top over her head and dropped it onto the bed. She moved her arms, trying to hide her breasts (in a lacy black bra).

"I think I told you to strip." The short guy stopped right in front of me, but I could easily look over his head. She shook her head. The big guy raised his arm and grabbed her by the arm. He twisted it, and she dropped to her knees.

"Please, he's hurting me." She looked right up in my direction again. I gripped the gun with both hands. It looked like she was trying to give me away. "I said...he's hurting me."

"Let's just fuck this bitch and get out of here," the big guys snarled, twisting even more.

She was pleading at me with her eyes. I wanted to burst through the doors, but was frozen in fear.

"Easy, Chuck," the little guy said, moving over to the bed. He had to pry Chuck's hands off her arm. "In due time, but I want her to remember this night for the rest of her days."

Chuck moved back and spat on the floor. "Oh, she'll remember."

(I already figured she wasn't the only one.)

Chuck snatched a chair and flipped it around. He crashed down onto it and kicked his work boots up onto the bed. "It's your show, boss."

Boss Man helped her up to her feet on the bed and stepped back. Mrs. Anderson huffed. She looked more upset then scared. I slowly dropped my arms and tried relax.

Mrs. Anderson whined. "I said I'd do it with you, not some construction guy, and I played your stupid dress up games all week."

"Fuck this whore!" Chuck shouted.

"Chuck, relax," Boss Man said, pressing on Chuck's shoulder. He turned towards Mrs. Anderson.

"Now Rebecca, he wouldn't even be in here if you hadn't tried to renege on a deal. And don't try and tell me any of your BS stories. I warned you not to fuck with me on this. Now, I suggest you get to stripping before I let Chuck off his leash."

(Rebecca? So that's her first name.)

After some mumbling, she pulled a zipper on her skirt and wiggled it down. She kicked it free, almost falling in the process. Her panties were black and matched the bra.

"These shoes are ridiculous," she cried, as the men looked her over, standing only in her bra, panties, thigh high white stockings, and those high heels.

"Who cares about the shoes," Chuck barked. "Let's see those tits."

Rebecca smacked her lips. She was already unhooking her bra when he said that, and she ripped it off and flung it at him. She covered her breasts with her hands, like a model. Boss Man snapped his fingers. She huffed, but dropped her hands to her side and stuck out her chest with false bravado. Her breasts could best be described as low riders, but they were surprisingly full and, with her big brown nipples, quite pleasing to the eyes. Looking her over, just like the other men, I had to give her credit for keeping in shape over the years. Though not perfect, she had a nice body. (It had to help that she never had children.)

"Not now," I thought, feeling my dick flutter. I knew this wasn't the time to get "excited."

"Did we shave?" Boss Man asked, pointedly.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and nodded. "I know, prove it." She skinned her panties down, her breasts swinging nicely. She had trouble kicking off the panties, so Boss Man helped her free them from her feet.

"I thought you said you shaved?" Chuck said, with a chuckle. (She sported a thin landing strip.)

"I'm not shaving it bald, asshole," Rebecca said, moving her hands in front of her crotch. Chuck lunged forward and grabbed Rebecca by the ankles and pulled her down. She bounced a few times on the bed, cursing. Chuck tried to spread her legs, but she kicked him away, her high heels finally working to her advantage.

"Chuck, brute force isn't always necessary," his boss said, moving to the side of the bed. He tapped on the bed. "Come here, my little pet."

Rebecca took a few deep breaths and scooted to the edge of the bed. Boss man patted her on the head. "See. Now lay back and spread your legs so I can see your pretty little pussy."

"Yeah, well, fuck this whore. She ain't that great. I have better at home." Chuck, obviously frustrated, turned away and acted like he was uninterested, as Rebecca followed her orders.

"That's true Chuck, but this is still some good pussy." Boss Man traced his hand down her leg and then dipped a finger into her pussy. He scooped it out and brought it up to his mouth. Rebecca gasped as he did it again. "Yes, still got some tang to it."

Chuck was making me nervous because he was moving around the room, in and out of my sight, while his boss continued to play with Rebecca's pussy. I tried not to watch.

I tried, but I just couldn't help it. I looked up and Rebecca had her head to the side looking right at me, biting her lip, as Boss Man was really fingering her pussy hard. It seemed like he was trying to get his whole fist in there. Chuck stopped his wandering and began cheering him on. Rebecca put her hands over her face and started thrashing about. I thought she was in pain at first, but then it was clear she wasn't.

"That's it boss...make her come...make her come," Chuck cheered. I realized for the first time that Chuck had something in his hands. I focused on it. It was some sort of camera, and he was snapping shots of his boss's work. Rebecca let out a high pitched squeal seeing the camera (and maybe cumming her brains out) and then settled down as Boss Man slowed a halt. Both of the men had a hearty laugh, while Rebecca curled up into a fetal position.

"Hey, boss, what do say we get some oral relief?" Chuck tapped the front of his pants and then brought his hand up and made that silly blow job motion, when you also stick your tongue against your cheek.

"I never said anything about sucking...you know," Rebecca said with a sniffle. She got to her knees. "And give me that camera."

Chuck held the camera high. "Blow me and maybe...."

"What? Oral sex, isn't part of sex?" Boss Man added, taking off his suit jacket. "What are you, my wife?"

"I swear I'll bite it off." She reached down and pulled a shoe off and fired it at Chuck, who was snapping pictures.

They moved closer and Rebecca tossed the other shoe. It, like the first, just bounced off the big guy.

"I'll ask you once, are you going to suck some dick or what?" Boss Man said, slipping off his shoes. Rebecca shook her head. She also snapped her jaw, like a snapping turtle.

Chuck took off his shirt and tossed it at Rebecca. "Fucking bitch has got a lot of fucking teeth."

Boss Man loosened his tie. "Yeah, Chuck, now might be the time for brute force."

"Yeh," Chuck cheered. Both of them slid their belts out of their pants, like it had been pre-planned.

Rebecca began shuffling backward. "That's it, deal's off, get out now!"

Chuck pounced. After some groping, she was flipped over onto her stomach. She screamed out, "Help!" Chuck covered her mouth until his boss shoved her panties in her mouth and wrapped his tie around her mouth and head.Chuck held her in place as his boss smacked her ass with his belt five or six times. Rebecca (and I) shook with everyone of them.

The belts were used next to secure her wrists to the headboard. Chuck grabbed her by the hair and pulled back, ordering her up to her knees. She didn't move until his boss picked up one of her shoes and pressed it against her ass.

"On you knees, whore, like a dog, or I'll shove this heel...."

Rebecca flinched and quickly snapped her knees up. Boss Man pulled them apart. "I said like a dog. It didn't have to be this way, bitch. You cost me and my guys a lot of time and money, and you promised to compensate us. Well, consider your ass compensation."

"Chuck, get the lubrication," Boss Man said, pointing to his jacket. "It's in the inner pocket."

Chuck went over to the jacket and came back holding a white tube. "I say we fuck her dry, boss."

"Give me that," his boss said, snatching the tube. "It's for us as much as her. Now, hold her feet."

Chuck moved into place and blocked my view. I didn't mind. Things had gotten out of hand. I wasn't sure I wanted to watch this anymore. While I found some of it exciting, now I was actually feeling for her. I wanted to rush in and put a stop to this, but feeling a tear roll down my cheek, I knew I didn't have it in me. I blinked my eyes to try to dry them. I felt like a baby, and I also didn't need them to hear me sniffling.

I heard Boss Man slap her ass. "Ok, let's see if she took that enema."

"Enema?" I blinked my eyes. I couldn't really see that good with the big goon holding her ankles, but it looked like the boss was using his finger on her asshole. He was kneeling by her side, and his arm was moving back and forth. Rebecca was moaning into her gag. I focused, and it sure looked like he was fingering her asshole pretty good.

"Boy, she feels tight, like she hadn't been using those anal sex toys we gave her with the enema bag. Maybe she thought we were joking." He held a finger in the air. "Well, she looks clean, so we'll let it slide."

He used her nice hair to clean his finger. I bit my lip. (This guy was such an asshole, he probably deserved to be shot.)

He pointed to the camera, and Chuck retrieved it. He took some pictures as his boss climbed behind Rebecca. He slid his pants down, and it looked like he used some of the lubrication on himself. I was glad he had his back to me. I closed my eyes when I heard Rebecca scream into her gag. I just stood there in the closet shaking my head. I didn't know much about anal sex, but Rebecca didn't seem to be enjoying it. She kept crashing down on the bed, so Chuck stuffed a big pillow under her stomach.

I looked up when Boss Man climbed up the bed, a couple minutes later. He pulled on Rebecca's head and jerked his cock. Chuck moved closer and took some shots as his boss blew his load all over the side of her face. He cleaned his cock off with her hair, and I felt sick. I felt even sicker when Chuck dropped his pants and stepped out of them. He was going commando and ready to go, and let's just say his biceps weren't the only thing overgrown on this goon.

I looked at the floor (I really didn't need to see any more) when he crawled onto the bed behind her. Boss Man hadgathered his clothing, saying something about getting cleaned up. He also warned Chuck not to hurt her, as he walked out of view.

"Me?" Chuck said, with a boastful laugh.

I heard Rebecca cry into her gag. It was the loudest yet. I tried not to listen as Chuck began taunting her with every thrust. He also called her nasty names, while boosting about his stamina. I was hoping he didn't, but he did last a long time. Her anal abuse seemed to go on for half-an-hour or maybe it just seemed that way standing in the darkened closet, now seemingly hotter then hell.

He finally started shouting obscenities and then he crashed down on her back. When he finally crawled off the bed, he picked up the camera, boasting about how much cum he'd just deposited in her asshole. He finished by reaching down and spreading her ass apart to get some close-ups. He also spread her pussy apart and took more photos. Rebecca was sobbing, her body limp. He cleaned up with her top and dressed.

Boss Man came back in, and they untied her and put on their belts. Boss Man laughed, saying she could keep his tie as a souvenir.