CHAPTER 1

My name is Frank. Security guard by night. Super by day. I install security systems on the side. Kind of a jack of all trades. I’m twenty-eight. Six two, one eighty, brown and brown. Look like a model. That’s why I have a regular date with the pizza delivery guy every Friday night.

The security job is with a construction business doing a big job in the middle of the city. I have worked for them since I got out of the military. They leave the equipment on site and they were having problems with small larcenies that added up to more than my salary, but the kicker was when the thief started taking the big stuff. That was when they hired me. The contractor is a friend of my brother who is also a contractor. He hooked us up. I figured out who the thief was and caught him at it. He is still in jail.

The apartment complex is good-sized. 168 units. Three buildings with fifty-six units each. The first two floors with eight two bedroom units and w/d hookups. The third and fourth floors have twelve one bedroom units with w/d hookups. The fifth floor has sixteen hotel room-type efficiencies. Top floor has a laundry room next to the elevator. A fourth building encloses a quad. The fourth building is the parking garage. It also has a weight room and small indoor pool, the office and storage units, and unexpectedly, a professional kitchen and community room that never gets used.

Eighteen units are in arrears and two of those are in the middle of the eviction process. Carly Knowles owes the most and is the furthest along in the eviction process. She has ten days to come up with the money and she’s not gonna do it. Her car was repossessed three months ago and she hasn’t paid her utility bills in longer than that. She’s gonna end up on the streets. The property owner says she has to go. He has a company to run. I get to do the dirty work. That’s why I get paid the big bucks. Insert snide smile here.

I live in a corner efficiency on the top floor of B Building. The corner ones are the best because they have more windows. Carly lives across the hall and one down from me. She has a panoramic view of the city stretching out across the river. I am on the side that overlooks the quad and the other buildings so I can keep an eye on things.

She’s been complaining about a stopped up sink and a few other things for months now, but why should I fix them if she is not paying rent? She stopped complaining after she missed the second payment, but today I go to see what needs to be fixed so a new tenant can move in. So I tote my book bag full of my most used tools across the hall and knock on her door.

No answer. She is either not home, or is afraid it is me and doesn’t want to answer the door. I can let myself into any apartment during reasonable hours in order to attend to emergencies or routine work orders that tenants have filled out. It is written into the lease agreement. So I try the door and then insert my master. And oh my, oh my…

At first I wondered I would have to call the cops for a suicide, but then I saw her writhing around… Then I wondered someone broke into her apartment and raped her… No… I walked across the room and studied more closely…

My name is Carly. I am twenty-four. I was raised in DFW but now I live in Oklahoma City. My mom never married. She just spit out kids like a pez dispenser. I have no idea who my dad is. My mom had four other kids to take care of, all by different dads, all of which left before or soon after the kids were born. I had dreams of being a nurse and was gonna OU and working part-time amassing debt. Then I wondered that was ridiculous and quit college to work full time. The only issue is that when you quit college you have to pay off your loans. I was making pretty good money waitressing, but one day I showed up at work to discover a sign on the door that the restaurant was closed… They never called us. The phone was disconnected. No severance check. No references.

I looked for work almost non-stop. I hadn’t saved any money because I was living paycheck to paycheck and trying to pay for my college loans. I wasn’t irresponsible with my money either. I only got what I needed. Better than my mom. She spent everything she got from the government on booze and pedicures. She dressed like a clothes horse and had her hair dyed, styled and permed while we kids went without food and clothes. I didn’t want to be like her. I wanted to pay my own way. I babysat as a teenager and got a job as a cashier in a grocery store when I was sixteen. Saved up for my own car. No booze or drugs for me. I left. I left town. I didn’t want to have her using me. And I called social services so the other kids could have a chance. She just wanted them for the paycheck.

After the restaurant closed I found a part-time job at a daycare center, but that wasn’t gonna pay the bills. Then one day I went to the parking garage at the apartment and my car was gone.

Frank Mahone was in the office and I told him it had been stolen. He said, ‘Yeah, by the repo business.’ That was embarrassing, but I wasn’t gonna let him see me cry. I have been avoiding him since then.

No car made it a lot harder to look for a job and the bus lines were impossible to get to the daycare center. I had to leave at four in the morning to get there on time. Then I got the flu from one of the kids and they didn’t want me to work sick. Part-time – no work, no pay.

So, I have been looking. Really, I have. It is a little stressful for me. I feel like I am drowning.

Fortunately I have a pastime for relieving stress.

One of those old white-washed wrought iron beds. The headboard is high in the middle and curved down to the corner posts. The bottom is straight across. It is a queen.

She is naked, kneeling on the bed facing me. Kneeling up and bent a little backwards with her arms over the top of the headboard.

I tie myself up. I’m pretty good at it too.

I was out late last night looking for work. I promised myself I would hit the streets early again and then after lunch I would come back home and ‘de-stress’. I was a little late getting home. It was closer to three before I got everything set up.

Most of my toys are homemade. I am very innovative.

She is kneeling, her legs spread shoulder width… Her ankles tied to the wrought iron about eighteen inches aside with her feet on the other side of the headboard. At first I think she must realize I am here, but she has a small black hood over her head secured with a drawstring. It isn’t drawn tight, but small enough that she can not get it off without her hands. Then I notice an IPod next to her ankle and the wires to what must be earbuds or headphones running up into the hood. The bed is diagonal to the wall so she is pretty well presented to the door as I enter. Pretty well… perfectly… perfectly presented.

Instantly horny and overcome with curiosity I walk closer. It takes me a few minutes to understand the system. She has wide black leather cuffs on her wrists. They each have two buckles to hold them closed. There are D-rings on them and each has a chain. The chain is long enough that she can hold it in her hand and at the end of the chain is a padlock. At the moment the padlocks are connected to other chains that feed through eyebolts on the back of the headboard. Her arms are spread wide. The upper end of the chains on the bed are hooked in place with a carabiner, but she can not reach that from where she is padlocked in place.

I have to look under the bed to see the other end of the chain. It feeds through another eyebolt and drops into a can. That end of the chain is frozen in about a quart of water. The chain can feed through the eyebolts, but the can and the ice can not. She is well and truly locked away until the ice melts. Mmm, mmm, mmm! I take a picture. More than one actually, and a video panning from her to the open apartment door. Then I close the door.

In between her knees on the bed is a vibrator… to relieve her tension once the ice breaks, no doubt. Under the bed, next to one of the cans is another drawstring bag a little larger than the one on her head. Curiosity… yep.

I said her ankles were tied, but I just assumed that. They are covered with a pillow. After looking closer I find matching leather cuffs and D-rings on her ankles and these are attached to the bed with carabiners. It couldn’t be comfortable to be stuck in that position for long. She has about four inches play between being upright on her knees and where her arms stop her. When she is up on her knees her hips jut out and she is bent slightly backward so that her breasts jut out as well… She is writhing between the two positions. There is saliva glistening on her chest. Why is she drooling? The bag on her head is moving in and out with her breaths.

Back to the other drawstring bag. I empty it out and line up the contents. A larger matching black cuff. I figured that must be a collar? It has multiple D-rings. Front, back and both sides. A leash. Umm… yeah… okay… A dildo, a feather, clothes pins, more carabiners, a golf size whiffle ball, a few more padlocks and a ring of keys, rubber bands, ropes… lots of ropes, a rawhide whip… a ping pong paddle… two thin metal rasps, clothes pins, condoms… KY, and a tote bag.

It is hard, but after watching her for several more minutes I leave her and her bag to check out the rest of the apartment. She has cubbies against the wall. Clothes folded and neatly stacked, towels rolled up. Doesn’t look like my apartment. I am neat and organized when I work on projects, but it doesn’t carry over into my personal space or the office.

Her bills are sitting in a basket below a dry erase board on the counter and the dry erase board has a list of the amounts she owes to everyone. She knows… she just can not. It is sad. No food in the fridge… a half a loaf of bread and peanut butter in the cupboard. More than sad. Her wallet has $9. There is a debit card. Her bank user account is empty. There are notices of delinquency.

I take another video of her writhing and pan to the chains and eyebolts and the cans. The bed couldn’t have come that way… Did she modify it?

Then I take an inventory of the apartment for repairs. I dismantle the plumbing under the sink and clean out the trap and run the snake, replace a couple outlets. It will need to be repainted and the carpet shampooed, but other than that it is ready. Then I hear the chains rattling.

So, I have had a few boyfriends, but none that I have ever trusted enough to distribute my preferences with. Consequently none of my relationships have been very fulfilling sexually. I can please myself better than any guy can please me, so I haven’t had a relationship in over a year. The only issue with self-bondage is that there is some play in the movement. I can not get out until the ice melts, but there is an inch or two of motion. I want to be kept completely motionless. Also, the idea of exhibitionism is arousing to me, but I would never in a million years risk that.

So purchased toys… butt plug – currently in place, vibrator – between my legs waiting, dildo in the bag and a spider mouth gag. It holds my mouth open big enough that I wouldn’t be able to refuse any imaginary cock and the legs keep it seated right behind my front teeth.

I have imaginary boyfriends. They tell me to do all kinds of nasty things and they do all kinds of things to me.

Other than bondage, one of my favorite things is sexual frustration for periods of time. I fantasize and imagine for a couple weeks and bring myself to the edge a few times… write stories on my laptop… then when I am done with the bondage and free again I can tumble over the edge with Vinnie the Vibe and it is amazing. I would love to be a submissive, but that would require a boyfriend who wanted to be a dominant. I don’t think anyone will ever understand that I want to be a submissive.

I have a million methods to tie myself, but this is one of my favorites because it is a little uncomfortable and I can get it pretty tight. I like the feeling of vulnerability. That is why the bed faces the door. And why the hood is on. When you come in the room, the bathroom is on the left and the kitchen is on the right. The kitchen is nothing more than a small sink and counter with cabinets above, a microwave on the counter and an oven and fridge. Then there is a small kitchen table and then the bed. The bed is visible as soon as the door is open. The ‘big ratty chair’ I got for free next to the road and covered with a sheet, the table and two chairs, also free next to the road. Oklahoma City only allows garage sales a couple times a year, so the rest of the year people just leave things for the garbage trucks or whoever can get to them first. Other than the cubbies, the bed is my only furniture purchase. I pinched myself when I saw it on Craig’s list. A hundred bucks delivered. I had been sleeping on the floor before that.

Back to the vulnerability – the hood, but below that a scarf over my eyes. The hood is a motorcycle helmet bag. It is blackout quality, but more is better. I love being blind. Then the headphones. Noise cancelling. Someone could come in the room and I would have no idea they were there! That is also so arousing! I imagine that at all times. Last of all is a gag. Why does that make me feel so helpless? And why is that so arousing? This one is homemade and I have been using it for a while. It is made from clothesline and electric tape and covered with a condom. It is bigger around inside my mouth than it is where it goes between my teeth, and it has gradually grown to the present size. It is a little hard to get in, but not as bad once it is past my teeth. It almost gags me (throw up gag…), but not quite. It makes my jaw unbearably sore while in for extended periods, and pleasingly achy after, so that it reminds me of my experience. I drool non-stop when it is in and it drips down my chest. The hood has one of those spring loaded ball things you press around the strings to draw it up. I can still breathe, but the air is stale which gives me more of an enclosed feeling. It is perfect.

The chains! The ice is melting. I love and hate this part. I am so needy, but I hate that there is more slack in the bondage. Still, I can not reach anything and need to! I writhe all the harder to break the ice, but it will still be awhile.

I am about to break out of my jeans watching her writhe! I stand by the bed waiting. I want to watch her with the vibrator. Want to watch her come. Want to hear the noises she makes. Want to see her face when she pulls off the hood and sees me watching her.

It takes another twenty minutes and she is writhing constantly and pulling hard at the chains. Her toes are curling and uncurling and she is starting to moan. I begin recording again. Finally the chain on her right wrist breaks free and she pulls it loose and unhooks the carabiner. The chain is still padlocked to her, but she gropes blindly for the vibrator and switches it on. That is the end of me. I unzip my pants and my cock springs free. With one hand I pump myself slowly while I record. I try to pace myself to her moans but my heart is pumping and I am barely holding back. Finally I hear a muffled scream and see her chest redden as all of her muscles contract and she trembles and jerks. I am no more than a foot from her because she has moved to the side of the bed that she is still chained to and my come spurts all over her chest and tits.

At first she is still trembling and a little hunched over and then sinks to her knees to recover. She drops the vibrator and heaves a big sigh and pinches her right tit and tugs on it a bit. Then she reaches to her folds and plays with herself another few minutes. I am already swelling again, but I tuck myself away and zip my pants back up. That is when she feels my come and is finally lucid enough to figure it out. She jerks on the left chain but it is still stuck tight.

I am still recording. Her fingers go to the button on the strings to the hood and she pulls it away. Her hair is mussed and I can not understand the other things. Her mouth is bulging, but she pulls the scarf away first and her eyes are bulging too!

He was just standing there with a big grin on his face, holding his phone and recording! I was mortified! And horrendously turned on. I tried to cover myself, but I only had one hand.

‘Don’t.’ I couldn’t hear him, but I read his lips. I pulled the headphones off and ran my fingers through my hair and then pulled it over my boobs and used my hand to cover my slit. I had to withstand the urge to play with myself. What is wrong with me? I am sure my face was flaming. ‘I said don’t.’ Don’t what? ‘Pull your hair back where it was. I’ve already seen it all.’ Slowly I pulled my hair back and tried to run my fingers through it. It must be a mess! Why do I care? Because he is still recording, you idiot!

Finally he put the phone down. He went to the bed and I saw that he had dumped the contents of my toy bag out. He chose another padlock and tugged on the chain on my right wrist and then pulled it snugly behind the headboard and locked it TO the eyebolt. I almost came right there, and he knew it.

My left hand hadn’t come loose yet because I intentionally had a lot more water frozen in a bigger can. I put the keys out of reach in the bag under the bed. There was probably a good hour left in that can. Another jolt of anticipation went through my clit. What was he gonna do?

He held up my toys one at a time and looked at me expectantly. He wanted me to choose? I chose the clothes pins. ‘Where?’

She shrugs comically and gives me a duh, retard face. She can not talk with that whatever it is in her mouth. The clothespins will hurt! Does that turn her on?

I haven’t touched her yet. Well, other than to fasten her wrist. And to shoot her with come. I touch the side of her breast with the clothespin and raise my eyebrow. She nods. I put it on and she squeals. She squeals, but her nipples blossom and harden… I watch, entranced. I pull out the next one and touch her stomach. She shrugs. I run it up her body to her armpit and she nods and then squeals. One by one I add them to the tune of assorted squeaks and squeals, never touching her with anything other than the clothespins. She spreads her legs wider and looks at me pointedly. ‘Down there?’ She nods enthusiastically and I trail a clothespin down across her nipple to her folds until she nods again and then attach it. There is a much longer squeal and she tries to hunch over, but her bonds stop her. Her slit is dripping wet and her breathing ragged. I’m not sure how much of that is from pain and how much is her impending orgasm. Four more down south with long squeals, but she spreads her legs for them and juts her hips toward me. Who’d a thunk? I know it is more than working for me.

I run out of clothespins and reach for the feather. She nods and I play between the pins all over her body pushing some of them back and forth to hear her squeal. Again she juts her hips toward me and I run the feather between. ‘Don’t come.’ Her eyes get big and she gasps as she tries to obey. That feather is gonna be too crusty to use again. I run it over her body and through my now drying come. Eventually I work my way down to where she is begging for attention. ‘Don’t come.’ She grunts. ‘Do you promise?’ She nods and her eyes get big as I rub it slowly along her clit. Then I stop.

‘I took pictures. Do you want to see them?’ She looks at me uncertainly. Am I trustworthy? She shrugs. I show her two. The first one when I came in the door and the next one. iPhone. High quality. ‘Maybe I should post them on the internet?’ She shakes her head violently, squealing in horror. ‘You don’t know me at all, yet here you are jutting your hips at me and begging for me to put clothespins on your cunt!’ She flushes deeply all the way to her tits at this and rolls her eyes just a little, and her hips… I pick up a rasp and put it between her legs and jostling the pins. She squats to give me more room and moans. ‘I think I will take more pictures now.’ She flushes again… I put the phone in front of her sex and take a close up. Then I take a video panning slowly up her body to take in all of the pins. I figure I shouldn’t leave them on much longer. I take the first one off and she squeals and shakes her head. She looks disappointed and I followed her gaze to the toy pile.