Landlord

Joseph Moretti was a self-made man. First generation off the boat, and sixty-five years in the city, had only rounded the edges of his "old world" habits. He still wore flannel shirts and suspenders. His rough-hewn hands bore the unmistakable callouses and scars of a laborer and the cement dust took years to finally scrub out of his skin.

These days he mostly puttered in his garden with his flowers and vegetables. He no longer needed to work every day but was still in his office each morning at 6:00AM.

Moretti Construction had over fifty employees. He also owned apartments, Cadillacs for both he and his wife, the homes his three children lived in, and a new boat, THE BRICK HOUSE. Not quite a yacht, but the new, main, interest in his life. His father had always wished to retire early and sail the Adriatic, that dream was cut short.

Joe's son, Young Joey had convinced his father to take it easy after he got comfortably ahead, and talked him into buying the big sailboat. Old Joe was now just a figure-head at the business though treated with respect by both the workers and his community. He no longer kept close tabs on the day-to-day assignments.

Young Joey was now clearly the boss. He could not hide his swarthy complexion and dark, shiny hair and eyes, but he had no love for "The Old Country" or it's customs. He wore tailored suits and Alligator shoes. Smoked Cuban cigars instead of his father's Danoblis. His desk was oak and gilt-framed pictures studded the deep-paneled walls. He had two secretaries, a personal driver for his Mercedes sedan, and a cook and trainer to keep his wife entertained and occupied.

He reviewed blue prints and attended Chamber of Commerce meetings. But his true calling was as a "slum-lord." He bought old properties for a song and the city was happy to relieve the blight and add to the tax rolls. For that, he received courtesies with permits and write-offs.

His people could do solid work when called on, but for his low-income residents, the material was second-rate and the craftsmanship shoddy. The poor and elderly apartment dwellers had nobody to turn to and Joey's close relations with bankers and politicians kept complaints to a minimum.

Sandee Russell was one of the poor, unfortunate souls reliant on Joey's good graces. Married, pregnant and divorced by nineteen. She was now 35 with an eighteen year old daughter and a low wage job.

Both women worked at the same family restaurant and after each shift they rode the bus back to their small apartment. Among the missing amenities were air-conditioning, elevator and cable television. The water pressure was okay in the afternoons and it wasn't too drafty in the winters. In summers the entire building was fumigated for roaches.

Sandee was resigned to ironing on the kitchen table, warm baths rather than hot showers, and lugging groceries up four flights from the market six blocks away.

It was her daughter Rachel, that she suffered for. Rachel had the same shining blonde hair and sparkling crystal-blue eyes of her mother. She was lithe and tall with the muscle-tone of the volleyball player that she was. Not very hippy, but round, pert 34B's and long, strong legs that reached all the way to her tight, firm ass.

To Rachel, sports and a possible scholarship were her driving passion. She had lived in many low-rent places, one was like another. Her three waitressing shifts kept her in decent, trendy outfits and paid for her cell-phone minutes. Workouts and homework kept her busy. She was mostly concerned for her mom.

Sandee's good looks were still there, though slightly worn down by age lines, gravity and sensible shoes. She still hoped to win the lottery and had a few nice dresses and skirts for special occasions, though these were few and far between. She was curvier than her daughter with wide hips and legs just as long but with a little more meat on them. But her eye-catching attribute was a spectacular set of 36D boobs. They had sagged abit with age and the skin was not as tight as Rachel's, but when she let them show, all eyes turned to her neckline. Her work attire was a routine server's dress with no frills and flat, rubber-soled shoes. But when she wore her Mother's Day present, a scarlet and black boustier, her tips would easily double. Her fleshy globes, sprinkled with light freckles, rode up high and bounced enticingly. Work and life were a struggle but both women felt that better days were ahead.

Then Sandee fractured two small bones in her wrist and was unable to write orders or carry a tray. A seven week layoff meant no appreciable income and extra bills for clinics, x-rays and pain killers. It took only two months to fall more than two-thousand dollars behind. After the third notice went unanswered, the management company (Moretti, Inc.) alerted Joey. Normally he had little concern about the travails of others and even less compassion. But his partner at the rental office knew to always inform him if a good-looking woman was in desperate straits.

Joey was pleased to hear that Sandee was in debt, behind on bills and avoiding all calls. This was just the opportunity he was always looking to exploit. He had one of his flunkys tack an official-looking warning to her door with a hand-written note that he may be able to offer some help. The phone rang later that day and Joey's wheels began to turn.

Sandee explained in a halting voice about her series of bad breaks: her account was overdrawn, the doctor said her hand wasn't healing well and there was no money for further treatments, and ofcourse, she was now nearly three months behind on the rent.

Joey made a great show of listening to her heart-felt rundown. He sympathized with each setback and acknowledged that none of it was her fault and it all could have happened to anyone. After about ten minutes of him feigning care, he dropped the first bomb on her. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Bad things happen to good people. Yeah I'm sorry, too. But you know, business is business. Hey, my kids gotta eat too!"

He gave her a moment to catch her breath, blow her nose and regain some composure. Then he hit her with the second shot. "You know, Babe. The worst thing is you didn't think to call me first. You know I like doing favors for good people. Maybe if you had reached-out earlier, I could have made some calls. Now I'm

scrambling to find something." He sat back in his high backed padded chair and eased his stubby legs onto the corner of the desk, careful not to scuff his Italian leather slip-ons.

It gave her a moment to digest his words. Was he hinting that maybe he could help? She is "good people" and they could really use a "favor." She fought back her tears and struggled to collect herself. "Please Mr. Moretti..." He interrupted, "No call me Joey. All my friends call me Joey. Only my old man is Mr Moretti."

She started again, "Thank you, Joey. Please help us. I don't have anybody else to turn to. We don't want to be put out on the streets. The bills are piling up and nobody is hiring. Please, umh Joey, I don't know what else to do. I'll do anything at this point. Please help us, Joey." She whimpered and sniveled as she pleaded. She believed she was throwing herself at his feet looking for mercy. If she only knew that was not what he was offering.

He drew in a deep breath as if he were pondering some profound decision. While at the same time, he readjusted the big cock, swelling in his pants. He then loudly shuffled some useless papers on his desk to let her think he was considering some options. Then he landed the big one. "There is one thing, maybe. I may be able to offer you something, it's a last minute thing so you better jump on it if you're interested. I have some free time tomorrow around four. So, if you put on a sharp, sexy outfit, professional like, you can take an oral interview. But I gotta know now."

He had set the bait, now he just waited to spring the trap.

"I'll be there at four o'clock sharp. And thank you very much Joey. I'm sure you'll be pleased."

She had no idea. Joey lit up a big cigar and buzzed his young secretary to bring him in a scotch on the rocks. She saw his ear-to-ear smile and heard his chuckle when she entered, and worried, because this could only mean trouble for somebody.

The following day Sandee soaked in a leisurely bath, rehearsing how she would express her lack of job skills but eagerness to learn or try new things. She dusted herself with scented body powder and let Rachel put her hair up in a formal sweep. They picked out a knee length leather skirt, slit up the side for a glimpse of her tanned, shapely thighs. She borrowed Rachel's knock-out "come fuck me pumps," her painted toes showing at the tips. And topped that off with one of her daughter's cream colored silk blouses in a pastel shade that picked up the color of her dazzling blue eyes. Matching it with a sheer ice-blue bra.

As she turned to go, Rachel dabbed a kiss of perfume at the deep crevice of her cleavage. "Even if you can't type Mom, he'll remember you!"

Sandee was a bit embarrassed and extremely nervous. This "interview" was all or nothing. If she didn't impress young Joey enough for him to offer her work, "The next thing might be your mother walking the streets."

Rachel answered, "Well if it comes to that, with that look, we should be eating well." She sent her mom out the door and to the bus stop with trepidation. A lot was riding on this.

On arrival, Sandee was ushered into Joey's outer office, where she was greeted by his younger secretary, Rita. His senior assistant Mrs. Granger, was already gone for the day. Rita had been told to keep Sandee waiting, just to build the tension and lower her defenses. She sat nervously crossing and uncrossing her legs. Occasionally she drew out her compact to check her look and swab at the perspiration on her forehead and upper lip. Rita offered her a diet cola that had been laced with rum. Rita had also once been interviewed by Joey.

In his office Joey was finishing a video game and applying fresh cologne. He figured it was about time and buzzed Rita to bring in Sandee. When Joey saw her walk through the door he knew instantly that he was going to enjoy this. He sat on the plush sofa and patted the seat, motioning for Sandee to sit beside him. He asked Rita to bring in another round of drinks and then to wait at her desk incase needed.

Joey did a quick appraisal and admired his soon to be new "employee." When she was settled on the couch sipping her second drink, he started the "interview." Joey thought he was sauve and debonair. But mostly, he was an overgrown delinquent with toys and power he never earned.

"So doll," he began, lazily draping an arm over the top of the couch and letting it caress the tops of her shoulders. "I like this outfit. You look good. Really hot. I may be able to work you in." His arm moved down to her thigh, giving it a firm squeeze while his eyes flashed at the generous proportions of her chest. "Yep, play your cards right and I may be able to use you." He laughed to himself as he tortured the conversation with stupid double-entendres. His idea of witty repartee.

"So Joey," a slightly tipsy Sandee questioned him, "I don't know much about construction but there is probably something I could do in the office. I told you before, I'm desperate, so if you need anything done I'll be glad to try it."

Joey was enjoying himself since it was so rare that he was the only one in on a joke. But his rapidly expanding cock was telling him it was time to get down to business. His favorite business. "Okay babe, I got to check-out your qualifications."

Sandee fidgeted nervously, expecting an embarrassing situation over a resume, but was completely startled by what came next. Joey reached over and firmly squeezed her right breast. He smirked first, then smiled and let out a great breath. "These are great tits honey, why don't you get out of these things and let me have a better look? He stood up infront of her and eased down his zipper, fishing out his long, flabby rod.

Sandee's reaction was one of total shock. She gasped at his groping hands, her blue eyes flashed and her brows arched. Her hands reflexively went to cover her breasts. But when she saw him handling his thick meat, she was so startled her breathing faltered, her speech stuttered and her eyes welled-up with tears. "Joe- Mr. Mor...Joey, what are you doing? What's going on!?" She gathered herself to rise but Joey tossed her back on the deep, plush sofa. He pressed forward, trapping her legs between his and almost sat on her lap. His hands pawed greedily at her top wrenching the top couple buttons loose and lifting the flimsy brassiere off her boobs and up near her neck. She began to whimper and choke while he slobbered kisses along her cleavage and took small nibbles at her deep-heaving tits.

"Sandee doll, let's be serious. I've looked at the bills. You owe me nearly three thousand bucks and I don't see no way you're gonna come up wit 'da scratch. I make a call today and the sheriffs lock down your place and turn your stuff in to be sold. I hear you got a daughter. Well, you and her will be sleeping under a bridge if you ain't willing to put out!"

Sandee was too confused and terrified to see through his monumental bluff. Her body shook and the tears flowed. A hundred images rocketed through her mind: police tape on the apartment door, sleeping under a filthy bridge, Rachel running away and many more. Then came the images of fat, greasy Joey, using her body for his disgusting gratification. Her head dropped to her chin. Whimpering and haltingly trying to catch her breath, she sobbed uncontrollably. She was trapped. What she hoped would be a lifeline to help her out, turned out to be a rope binding her to some sort of torture rack. Her sad, misty eyes; a moment ago so full of hope, glanced up at his, searching for a sign. But witnessed only unbridled lust.

He leered down at her deviously, taking her delicate, tiny hand and wrapping it around his cock. He viciously ripped her blouse from her shoulders so only the tail remained tucked in he skirt.

Then he reached around her back, unsnapping the bra while forcing her face against his groin. His hand held tight on the back of her neck, loosening the blonde updo, and letting those golden locks fall softly down her back and to the tops of her now exposed breasts. He grabbed a fistful of her honey blonde hair and yanked her head back so that the mascara-streaked eyes were staring straight up at him. His cock poised directly over her nose and his ball sac resting heavily on her lips. He had a sadistic look on his face and swiveled his hips so that his private parts danced across her reddening, horrified features.

"You wanna work off some of that debt, honey? Open wide. It's time for you to show alittle appreciation. 'Cause if I like this, most of your money problems will be solved. But you gotta be good and you gotta sound excited!"

She took a quick, silent survey of all her options. All the while entranced by the enormous cock, literally perched at her lips. It was atleast nine inches long and incredibly thick. He had dropped his trousers so now she could scan it's entire length and girth. He had a swarthy complexion and his giant cock was dark, also. His tight, full balls were nearly black and his dense thatch of pubic hair the color of India Ink. She gripped the big pole at the base, feeling the rough, veiny ridges and slid her hand up to the bulbous, mushroomed head. Her eyes raised up one last time, pleading with him. "Please Joey, don't make me do this."

His mood suddenly darkened and the grip on her hair became more brutal as he lowered himself to stare right down into her wide eyes. "You got two choices bitch. Leave here now and I don't want to hear another word about you, live on the street, beg at corners and eat from the garbage. I don't fuck'n care. Or you can be a good girl, show me how good you are and I can be good to you."

She pictured herself tied to the railroad tracks, a freight train barreling at her and no hope of rescue in sight. She glanced once more at his meat, twitching in her hand. It looked thicker around and more intimidating than a minute ago. Sandee resigned herself to her dreadful position.

"Alright Joey, if I do this, then we're even, right. I do whatever you want, then I leave and you're paid off. This won't ever come up again, okay...

"Shut up bitch! Who you think you are, fuck'n Sophia Loren? You owe me over $3,000, you think you're worth that? Hell, I can get three hot chicks here all night for half that! Now suck it down and I'll see if you're worth my time. Make it good and swallow."

All her bargaining chips were used up. Sandee reluctantly opened her mouth enough to touch her tongue to the tip of his mammoth cock. Joey rammed his cock in so fast and so deep that she gagged and braced her hands against his soft, round, hairy belly. He took her wrists and pulled her arms around his fat waist and clamped her sweaty palms on his flabby ass. His own hands then reached for her tits and kneaded them hard as if they would lactate.

"Cry all you want, it turns me on." He laughed mercilessly. "Just keep that mouth working. You're gonna swallow my load and then I'm gonna fuck your sweet little pussy. Do you have a tight little cunt? It better be. If too many cocks been plow'n you, I'm going to throw you back and you can go to them for my money." He was excited with his power and began to pump forcefully into her warm mouth. Joey grunted and started to sweat profusely, his greying chest hairs getting wet and greasy looking. His hands moved to her ears and he proceeded to fuck her mouth. "Suck my cock you cheap little whore. I'm going to fill your mouth with cum and then bend you over the back of this couch and rape your sweet cunt." He couldn't continue with his threats because he started to gush buckets of gooey, hot jism against the back of her throat. Most of it went straight down, she was surprised at the suddenness and shocked at how quickly she swallowed. Some of the sticky cream escaped, oozing from the edges of her lips and twining down in long, loose strings from her chin to her tits.

"That's it bitch. Suck it all down and lick your fingers, too." He watched agog, as Sandee delicately mopped-up the dripping strands, spreading some of the warm fluid on her pointy nipples before licking the remains from her fingers. She slowly and sexily reached her tongue out to pull the sticky gel into succulent mouth.

The lecherous scene was releasing strong sexual urges from her and it's degrading atmosphere caused a powerful ripple from deep inside her steaming vagina. Sandee found herself refiguring the situation. "I must be a whore if I find this so exciting. It's so dirty it's making me hot all over" She shuddered with her own thunderous orgasm.

Joey plopped back down on the sofa and said roughly, "Now strip! I wanna see your pussy, then turn around and bend over. You're mine now, chickee, and I wanna check-out the goods." He gripped her elbow and pushed her to her feet, watching her tremble slightly, while he stroked his cum-slickened cock back to life.

She moved like she was being herded towards the electric chair. The confusing signals her body was sending her were strange and erotic. With one last mental picture and a quick peek at her appearance, her will power vanished. She would no longer fight. The thrill of being bought and debased was stimulating. She tugged the stained leather skirt from her hips, the remnants of her beautiful light-blue blouse fell with it. She stared into his eyes as she thumbed the elastic of her panties. It was a dirty thrill to be forced to undress and perform for someone. Her mind knew it was wrong but her body was building to another climax and she wanted desperately to tell how turned-on she was.