Open House: By Appointment Only

"From the look of things, I'd say you've been 'molestar' plenty!" he smirked, striding into the room. He deftly plucked Carlos's thank-you note from my pussy, as casually as if this were the normal way to receive messages. "Did you have a nice morning?"

I blushed furiously, but an increasingly pressing need forced me to suppress the angry response that sprang to mind. "Please…" I whimpered desperately. "I really need to…" I glanced furtively toward the open door to the bathroom.

"Yes?" he asked, cocking a mocking eyebrow. "What is it that you need?"

Bastard. He was going to force me to beg him. But the alternative seemed far worse, so I swallowed what little remained of my pride and asked again. "Please… Blake… I really need to use the bathroom. Don't make me… have an accident…" I whispered.

"No, we wouldn't want that, would we?" he said condescendingly, unfolding a pocket knife and sawing through my bonds. "Go on, then." I groaned, painfully lowering my legs, the prickling of renewed circulation tormenting my feet and hands. My back screamed in protest as I gingerly straightened and rose from the bed. Moving as swiftly as I dared, I hobbled into the bathroom and tried to shut the door – but the chain tethering me to the bed prevented it. "Oh, don't be so modest!" Blake laughed. "It's not like you've got anything I haven't seen already!" Conceding the validity of this point – and unable to wait any longer – I attended to my needs, then began to draw a bath, turning the water up as hot as it would go.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Blake agreed, entering behind me. "You really could use another bath." He leaned casually against the pedestal sink, watching me climb, wincing, into the scalding tub and scrub myself from head to toe. When I had finished, he extended a clean towel with which I dried myself, then fashioned a makeshift sarong.

"So, are you hungry?" he asked. Surprised, I realized that I was – I had not eaten anything since lunch the previous day – but did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was right. Unfortunately, my rebellious body betrayed me yet again – this time with an embarrassing gurgle from my stomach. Laughing, he left the room, returning a moment later with a tray containing a sandwich, an apple, and a glass of milk, which he set on the bedside table.

"Go on. Eat. You need to keep your strength up."

Hating him – but knowing that it would do me no good to starve myself – I did as he suggested, tearing ravenously into the sandwich, washing it down with large gulps of frosty milk.

"Better?" he asked, when only a few crumbs remained on the plate. "Aren't you going to say 'Thank you'?"

"'Thank you?' For what?" I asked bitterly, glaring at him. "I just want to go home. You can't keep me here forever, you know!"

"No? Why not? Who's going to miss you? Your parents are long dead. You haven't spoken to your sister in Fresno in over a year. Your landlord won't care, as long as the rent checks keep showing up – or he finds a new tenant, to take over your lease. I can easily forge your signature on a letter of resignation at work. No, my dear. You could disappear completely and no one would ever notice." With that, he turned and left the room, again locking the door behind him. Angry, I threw the glass at his head – but it bounced off the wall and rattled – unbroken – across the floor. Damn. Acrylic.

Several hours passed before I again heard the key grating in the lock. I turned angrily toward the door, more sharp words on my lips, when the door opened – and in walked Ethan.

"Kate? What's going on? What are you doing here?" he asked, rushing to my side and embracing me.

"Oh, Ethan," I sobbed, collapsing in his arms. "How did you find me?"

"I received a phone call – it sounded like your friend Blake, from work – and he told me to come get you. Said you got a little too drunk celebrating a sale and spent the night?"

"God, no! They kidnapped me… They… they set me up!" I protested. "They're holding me prisoner here!"

"Set you up? But how?"

"By… by pretending to be a client… luring me here…"

"But isn't this one of Blake's listings? You weren't trying to steal one of his clients, were you? How did you think he'd react to something like that?"

"Ethan… I don't understand. Why are you asking about Blake?" I sniffled. "You've got to help me… Get me loose…"

"Yes… about that…" he said, turning the locked chain slowly in his hands. "I don't seem to have a key… And seeing you like this is…kinda hot." His comforting embrace turned more intimate, hands sliding beneath the towel and stroking my thighs. "Nice," he breathed, fingering my shaved pussy.

"No… No no no…" I moaned. "Not you, too." It felt as if the bottom had abruptly dropped out of the world. Nothing made sense anymore. There was nobody I could trust. Succumbing to bleak despair, I slumped on the bed, no longer possessing the will to fight. As if from far away, I felt him unwrapping the towel and tugging it out from underneath me. I told myself that I didn't care. What was one more violation, after all that I had already endured?

Ethan swiftly stripped off his clothes, dumping them on the bed and revealing a huge erection. A small part of my mind automatically compared it to those I had seen the night before – a comparison in which it fared well. While not quite as large as Andrew's monster cock, it still threatened ample punishment for me. He then rolled me onto my stomach and climbed atop me, pressing me to the sweat-stained sheet. Closing my eyes, I braced myself for another assault on my already-beleaguered pussy. Too late, I discovered that this was not what he had in mind. Instead, his rough hands gripped my buttocks, squeezing them and pulling them apart, exposing the vulnerable opening between them. With one finger, he probed gently, exploring the tight hole.

"God, no! Ethan, please don't… Not that… please…" I begged, horrified. "Please… I never…"

"Yes, I know," he smirked. "That's what makes it so… exciting. I want to be your first."

"No…" I whimpered, bucking wildly beneath him now, but my slight frame was no match for his athletic bulk. I squirmed helplessly as he took a small bottle of lubricant from the pocket of his discarded jeans and slathered it liberally between my buttocks. The liquid was cold and felt disgustingly slippery – though I knew I would be glad of it momentarily.

"Easy, now," he whispered. "Just relax, and this won't… well, ok, it probably will hurt, but it won't hurt as badly." I felt him positioning himself behind me, pressing against the tight ring of muscle with which I resisted him. My eyes widened in terror as he began, ever so slowly, to push forward. I clenched my buttocks, straining away from the rock-hard cock, but there was nowhere for me to go. Eased by the generous slathering of lubricant, his cock began sliding forward, stretching me around it. I screamed, feeling as if I was being torn open. Ethan wriggled one hand underneath my belly, cupping my pussy and fingering my clit. I bucked away from his touch – which rocked me backward onto his cock, driving it in another fraction of an inch. I lunged forward again, not caring if I mashed his hand into my pussy now, as long as it would get his cock out of me – but he moved with me, working his way deeper.

"Nnn.. No…" I panted, racked with agony, but he was unrelenting. Another inch… and another… Surely he was done? Impossible that anyone could be so large… yet he continued, forcing his way deeper. I writhed beneath him, frantic for escape, while his relentless fingers continued to probe my pussy and tug at my clit. Despite the pain, I found myself becoming aroused – and as my arousal mounted, the pain gradually subsided to a more bearable level. By now, Ethan had buried nearly his entire length in me. I prayed silently that this would be adequate – but of course, it wasn't. Instead, he pulled back, withdrawing almost completely from my body – and then slammed into me, penetrating me fully this time. And again. I gasped with every thrust, feeling myself impossibly stretched and filled. I gritted my teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cum. But as he pounded my ass and finger-fucked my pussy, I felt myself pushed closer and closer to the edge, until finally I could hold out no longer. With a helpless sob, I gave in to the waves of pleasure that ripped through me, my pussy clenching around his probing fingers. And as I felt his own orgasm building, his cock throbbing in my ass, pumping me full of semen, my ears were filled with the sound of mocking laughter.

Ethan slumped atop me, sated, but the laughter continued. Startled, I struggled to turn my head – and saw Blake standing in the doorway, a camera in his hand.

"I always said you were a real pain in the ass, dude." Blake quipped, entering the room.

"Yeah, fuck you." Ethan replied casually, rolling off of me and pulling on his jeans.

"She already has."

"Yeah, I'll bet!"

Disbelieving, I stared blankly at the two men, who were clearly close friends.

"So… now what?" Ethan asked. "Do we let her go? Or keep her here for a few more days?"

"Let me talk to her for a few minutes. Make sure she really understands the situation."

Blake seated himself on the bed beside me. "Now, Kate," he began. "I think it's time you went home, but before that happens, I need to show you a few things." He pulled a handful of glossy 8x10 photographs out of an envelope and scattered them on the bed. I gaped in horror, remembering the flashes of light I'd thought I'd seen the night before, as I saw shot after shot of myself: sucking dicks, getting fucked from behind, and worst of all, screaming in what were obviously the throes of orgasm. All of the pictures were carefully cropped so that the identities of the men were concealed – but my own face showed clearly. "You see, my dear – these pictures plainly show that you were having a marvelous time whoring yourself to a number of men. If you even think of doing something foolish, like going to the police, I guarantee that these will be widely publicized. Your reputation will be ruined, and the pictures will most likely exonerate us, if it even comes to trial."

"But what am I supposed to do now?" I whimpered.

"Go home. Rest. And show up at work on Monday morning with a smile."

"Work?!? You're crazy! I can't possibly continue to work for you. Not after…"

"Of course you can. And you will. Do you think you can just quit, and find another real estate job? Who do you think other employers will call for references? All I have to do is produce a few of these photos and tell them that we fired you for hosting wild parties in our vacant properties. No, dear. If you ever want to work again, you will do exactly as I tell you. And the first thing you'll do is start dressing sexier in the office. Give the clients something nice to look at. You'll wear short skirts – no slacks – and high heeled shoes," he emphasized. "Also, your blouses should show a little cleavage. You've got nice tits – you should show them off more."

Broken, I nodded weakly.

"You see? I told you she could be reasonable." Blake gloated, unlocking my chain. "Now, you will find your purse and keys downstairs. Your car is still out front. Go home and rest."

"But… my clothes…" I protested.

"No. Drive home as you are. It's getting dark – as long as you are careful, you should be able to make it home without being seen. But if you are? I'm sure you can make up something plausible. Now go, before I change my mind." Still laughing, he swatted my ass playfully – but hard enough to sting. I tried to at least take the towel with me, but Ethan snatched it from my hands.

"Oh, no. Now get moving, or I might just have to go back for seconds."

Afraid that he might make good on that threat, I ran down the stairs, pausing only long enough to retrieve my purse, phone, and keys. As promised, my car was still out front, and it was with great relief that I locked myself into it and started the engine. All the way home, I slouched low in the seat, hoping that no one would notice me, while a humiliating trickle of semen and lubricant soaked into the upholstery. Fortunately, the parking lot at my apartment building was empty, and I made it inside without being seen. The phone rang a few times, but I made no move to answer it. Instead, I turned the shower up as hot as it would go, and stayed there, scrubbing my skin almost raw, until the hot water ran out. Then, exhausted, I collapsed on the bed and slept.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Monday morning arrived all too soon, and though I hated myself for doing so, I forced myself to dress as Blake had ordered. After the ordeal I had been through, a minor indignity like this could surely be tolerated. Anything to keep those shameful pictures from ever seeing the light of day.

"Good morning, Kate. You look nice today. Did you have a nice weekend?" Blake asked blandly when I walked in the door.

"Oh, you know. Nothing special." I lied, refusing to show anything out of the ordinary in front of the receptionist or the other agents.

"Well, it looks like you ran off Friday night without finishing the filing. You must have had a hot date waiting! Would you get me a cup of coffee, and then take care of that?"

"Of course," I grated, fetching him his coffee – a task I had steadfastly refused to do up 'til now. Then, with a heavy heart, I retrieved Blake's jumbled papers from the drawer and began sorting them, seeking to lose myself in the mind-numbing work. All at once, my brain screeched to a halt – there, in the middle of a set of contracts, was a picture from Friday night. I glanced frantically around, praying that no one else had seen it. Blake met my searching gaze, but fortunately, everyone else seemed oblivious to my blind panic. I crumpled the picture, then thought better of it and sandwiched it between several sheets of paper before stuffing it into the document shredder. Only then was I able to breathe normally again.

"Oh, and Kate - keep next Saturday open. I'd like you to host another open house for me. I believe you already know most of the clients who will be there? You'll find everything you need in your bottom drawer."

With trembling hands, I opened the drawer and removed a small tote bag. I peeked inside, my fears confirmed when I saw that it contained a corset, heels, stockings, a garter belt, and a very short skirt with a tiny apron, styled like a French maid's costume. A little voice inside my head screamed "No! Not again!" but I knew the price of refusal. Though my cheeks burned with shame, I nodded slowly and spoke.

"All right. I'll be there."