The apartment complex is quiet at 8:30 in the morning, since most of those with 9-to-5 day jobs and kids have already headed out, and the retail workers haven't yet had breakfast. And the party boys aren't even feeling their hangovers yet. Most mornings there's a cool sting in the air, which perks up my sore nipples and feels refreshing on my burning ass.
That's because at 8:30, I'm on my way back from what my apartment manager euphemistically calls my "daily rent payment." This started a few months ago, when I just could not put together enough money for the comfy but tiny studio I live in. He decided I could work it off, doing all those things his wife refuses to do. He likes to face fuck, and he loves the look of nipple clamps and reddened ass cheeks. But no intercourse. He wants me to beg for release, for a sweet climax, and I do. The blows to my ass and pussy, and the clamps on my tits, arouse me to the point of bursting. So, of course, I beg.
Only he never says yes. And he tells me if I do, he'll stop the play and I'll have to go back to paying in cash.
Ah, the choices we make.
So I leave, my clit tight and swollen, and my own juices slipping between my thighs as I ease back through the cool morning.
Today, I walk by the pool, glancing over at the glistening water. So inviting...wonder if it's warm enough for a swim yet. Two of the maintenance men are skimming the leaves out, so I call out, "How's the water? Warm enough?"
They glance at each other, then the taller one, Greg, motions toward the gate of the iron fence surrounding the pool. The sign hanging there reads, "Pool closed," but he calls out, "C'mon in! See for yourself."
Lovely. I pop the latch and step in, letting the gate swing shut. I slip off my sandals and dip a toe in the edge. It's brisk, with just enough edge to make it a terrific swim. "It still opens at 9, right?"
Greg nods, then motions toward the pool house. "There's a suit in there, if you want to go ahead. Someone must have left it."
I shake my head. "Thanks, but I don't think I could wear someone else's. Not safe."
The other man, shorter but with the build of a former football player, shrugs. "No one's claimed it since last summer. You could take it off our hands and wash it later."
I thought about it. I could use a new suit. "Okay."
He puts down the pole and heads for the pool house. Paul has always seemed a bit shy to me, throwing up a hand in greeting when he sees me but almost never meeting my eyes. I follow him in. The pool house is a solid structure, built to look like the rest of the complex. But it's definitely a workspace, with wooden tables, shelves of tools and chemicals, life preservers and the ropes that go with them. Paul goes all the way to the back of the room and digs through a bag.
Behind us, the door swings shut, and I glance around, just in time to see Greg padlock the door from the inside. I face him fully, an odd twinge of fear simmering in my stomach. "What are you doing?"
He smiles. "What we're going to do is the same thing the bossman has been doing for six months."
"I don't think—"
My voice is cut off as Paul wraps his arm around my neck, pulling my sharply backwards, almost lifting me off the ground. I kick out with my feet, but Greg is ready for that response and grabs both ankles, lifting them high and removing any leverage I had. The fear races through me, and I lash out with my hands, trying to grab Paul's face. "You little slut," he hisses, and tightens his grip. Spots dance before my eyes as they lift me and slide me onto a low bench. Paul releases my throat, and as I gasp for air, he shoves a rag into my throat, then clenches both wrists, pulling my arms straight back and over my head.
Trembling, I dimly realized they must have planned this. Ropes were waiting near the bench; two with nooses tied on the end, which Greg quickly slipped over my ankles. A similar loop went around each wrist, and Paul tied the other ends to support beams, pulling my arms wide and tight. Greg fought my kicking legs until Paul was finished, then Paul helped him, as they pulled my legs up and high, so that my knees were up beside my ribs. Two more ropes encircled my thighs, to be tied to posts on the outer walls of the pool house.
