You're Nobody ... Ch. 05

Assuming that their room was exactly like mine, I selected a spot several feet from the door as my drilling point. I wanted a place where they wouldn't notice the small flakes of sheetrock that would spill into the room when I began drilling, and a decent perspective of their room when I finished and put an eye to the hole.

And then I waited. Less than a minute later another jet whined overhead so close that the lampshades vibrated, the light flickered against the walls of my room as I drilled my hole.

After putting the drill down on the bed I pressed against the wall and took my first look in on them. The girl, I never heard him call her by name, was certainly a willing participant. Actually she seemed to be getting excited just looking at his toys of pain.

"Come here," Compton said.

I stepped away and called Noreen, she answered on the first ring.

"It's me," I said in a whisper.

"Why are you calling ...?"

"Shut up and listen," I said, interrupting her. "I've got Compton in a situation. A compromising situation, understand?"

"Yeah ..." she responded breathlessly.

"I need two things ... his home phone number. I don't want to call him on his cell. I need to speak with his wife."

"And?" Noreen said, waiting for my second request.

"Oh, I'll just call 911. I was going to see if you could get me the vice squad's number, but 911 should do the trick.

"I'm glad you said you wanted Mrs. Compton's number ... I think my mother has it listed in her book ... she keeps it in the kitchen ... wait, I'm on my way there now."

True to her word, Noreen fed me Mrs. Compton's personal number and I hung up after thanking her.

"Hello, Compton residence, Nicki answered.

"Nicki, you don't know me, but I need to speak with Sylvie right now."

"I'm sorry, we don't accept calls..."

"Shut up, this is an emergency!"

"How dare you!" Nicki shouted into the phone.

"Does Sylvie want to catch her husband with his pants down and win an easy, uncontested divorce or not?"

"Who is this?"

"Let me talk, time is short. I'm at the Decrepit Manor, a motel near the airport. Compton's inside with an underage girl, practicing S&M on her poor body. Get her lawyer, not his on the phone and have him get over here pronto with a camera. You've got twenty minutes tops. Then I'm calling the police, the vice squad actually. I hate the son-of-a-bitch and I'm gonna see him go down," I put as much venom into my voice as possible and hung up.

I returned to my peep-hole and saw that the girl had just removed her cream-colored shirt, and was unhooking her pushup bra. Her breasts were lush and vulnerable and her nipples were already stiffened with arousal. She kept her eyes down and didn't say a word as Compton took her breasts in his hands and felt their weight, then rubbed his thumbs over her areolas. She sighed and closed her eyes in acceptance, instinctively pushing her chest into his palms, offering herself.

"We're alone now, Ashley, and we're going to see if you like the things I think you'll like. You know I'll never push you too hard. I'll never make you do anything you really don't want to do. All you ever have to do is tell me to stop and I'll stop. I don't want you to ever be afraid."

What bullshit, I thought as Compton's hands left her breasts and pulled her to him for a torrid kiss. She bent back like a willow in a gale, arms hanging nervously at her sides until he broke the kiss and said, "You can touch me."

Her hands came up and got tangled in his hair as his hands explored the remainder of her fine, if slightly chubby body; squeezing her ass, poking a finger or two against the entrance of her pussy while they engaged in another long kiss.

I started taking pictures, holding the camera against the wall and seeing even better through the telephoto lens.

"Suck my dick, Ashley," he said matter of factly, and like a zillion other teenage girls before her, she dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth, using both hands to hold him.

"No hands, Ashley," he said with a smirk on his face, and watched as she tried to keep him lodged in her mouth without the use of her hands.

Suddenly he backed away from her and went to the toys arrayed on the dresser and picked up a pair of steel handcuffs. Ashley stood there looking suddenly cold and exposed and momentarily confused.

"Your wrists, Ashley," Compton ordered, and she held out her hands, looking at the handcuffs as if having trouble focusing. Her hands were shaking, but she held them out as he took control of her.

I debated calling the police and decided to wait until he was further along, thinking it would look better if she were screaming, or appeared to be screaming when they arrived.

He fastened the steel cuffs together in front of her with a sturdy chromed clip. She raised her hands and the rings jangled softly as she studied them. There was an excitement in her eyes, but also shame and a bright blush had spread beneath her carefully maintained tan as Compton carefully peeled her shorts and skimpy blue thong from her somewhat rigid body.

Ashley was now left wearing her four-inch heels and nothing else.

She had shaved her bush for the occasion, although it was possible she did it as a matter of course like many teenage girls.

Compton moved into action, leading her over to the closet, where he fastened a length of nylon rope to the inside doorknob, tied a loop in the end and passed it over the top, and then closed the door. Next he passed another length of rope through this loop and fastened the free end to Ashley's handcuffs and hauled on it, lifting her wrists over her head. He tied it off around the doorknob, leaving her standing there so that her arms were raised, her elbows at eye level, her breasts crowded together.

"Yes, that's good," he said with a satisfied smirk and suddenly slapped her across the face. Ashley had lost her composure then, crying out in surprise and pain at the blow.

It wasn't the most violent slap I'd ever seen a woman take, but it was hard and sudden enough to leave her with swollen lips. She was now more than nervous. She was definitely afraid as the realization of her helpless situation came upon her. She didn't really know this man. He'd promised her things ... things she'd thought she wanted, but now ... now she wasn't so sure she wanted them.

How do I know she had such thoughts? She was kind enough to express them verbally to Compton after he slapped her a second time. She earned herself another, even harder slap for uttering her concerns and then began crying and pleading for mercy.

I kept snapping pictures I hoped would help Mrs. Compton in her divorce proceedings. Glancing at my watch, I saw that I needed another fifteen minutes before calling the police and returned to my peep-hole.

I could see her pulse in her throat racing. Compton was in no particular hurry, watching unconcernedly as Ashley raised a leg and pressed a foot against the door, and then put it down. She shifted her hips, trying to get comfortable.

"Please ... I can't move," she said. Ashley wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack. Compton smiled ... I took a picture ..."So I notice," he said ominously and took a handful of her hair and yanked her head back so that it slammed into the door then slowly licked her lips.

The stupid girl opened her mouth expecting him to kiss her, only to have him move to her throat, where I think he sucked on the pulsing vein he found there while running a hand between her legs to demonstrate just how helpless she was.

"What ... what are you going to do to me?" she whimpered nervously.

"Why, whatever I want to do to you, Ashley."

That remark caused Ashley to pull at the rope and bring her elbows together as if she could hide her face behind them.

"Mmm..." Compton sighed as he leaned against her so she could feel his aroused prick pressing on her hip before slowly dry-humping her as a clue to what would be happening next.

When his hand closed down on the globe of her right tit so hard that she moaned in pain, I decided I had better call the vice squad.

I stepped away and dialed 911 and told the operator that I could hear a woman being attacked and possibly raped, and provided the address of the motel and Compton's room number.

"She's screaming," I said and held the phone to the wall. Compton sealed his own fate by causing Ashley to scream at that moment. It was all the operator needed to hear.

As it turned out, my timing was perfect, because Compton changed tactics, fingering little Ashley until she was on the verge of cumming then backing off.

Now Ashley wanted him. She was getting into it and wouldn't mind the next few slaps or tweaks Compton applied to her.

I figured the cops were five or six minutes away. I had no idea if his wife's lawyer would arrive before or after the police. I just needed him there at some point so that he could later testify to the fact that the police had been called and Compton found in a room with a young woman handcuffed and hung up from the closet door.

Ashley was no longer a docile creature worried about being tied up to the door. Oh no ... she had come alive with the help of his fingers and her perverted mind ... you'd never think it to see her in walking down the street, or sitting in Wendy's enjoying a burger — just a girl like any other girl, nothing special — but now she was entirely sexual. It was her natural element, the one place she wanted to be more than any other.

For a moment there I found myself envying Compton. She was such a hot little piece of ass, moving her hips back and forth, trying in vain to get herself off, and knowing that he and only he could do that for her.

Compton lowered his slacks and exposed himself to her.

"Look at it, Ashley. I know you want it, but where do you want it?"

"Ohhhh! Oh yes! Put it in me!"

"But where, baby?"

"My pussy! Stick it in my pussy!"

"What about your ass?"

"My ass?"

"Yeah, your backdoor. Would you like it back there?"

"I ... I never ..."

"Always a first time, baby," he cooed in her ear then twisted a nipple so hard she screamed.

I got that one with the camera, shooting continuously until he moved his hand away.

"Who owns you, Ashley? Huh? Who owns you, baby? Whose bitch are you?"

"Ohhh," she breathed.

He picked up a riding crop - Slap!

"I asked you who owned you, Ashley. Who owns this pussy?"

He had one finger inside her and a thumb on her shaved pubic mound and turned her sideways so he could slap her ass. Three slaps in Ashley was pushing herself at his fingers, although she might have been trying to avoid the sharp slaps from the riding crop he was delivering to her ass.

"Now who owns you?!"

"You do!" she cried, breasts rising and falling. Ashley was on fire and there was no hiding it. "You do! You own me!"

He increased his fingering, making sure to rub her clit at the same time.

Ashley was making little mewing sounds. There was a gasp, I heard her scream, but it might have been from her cumming, I was never sure about it because at the same time there was a loud knock on the door.

I took two more pictures, one of his stunned expression; one of Ashley, swinging in a tiny circle, after Compton left her to see who was knocking. He was forced to shuffle, much like a convict in ankle chains. I really think he knew who was at the door before they shouted, "Police, open up!"

Compton didn't bother opening it. And when they broke in they found him, pants around his ankles, riding crop in his right hand and of course, Ashley dangling from the closet door.

The lawyer never showed up. I waited until they'd herded the handcuffed Compton and little Miss Ashley, now fully dressed and sobbing uncontrollably into a second squad car.

I heard her lying her ass off to them. He'd abducted her...was going to kill her, and a bunch of other shit.

She forgot that her car was parked outside the unit and that the cops were running the plate numbers of both cars. I'd parked mine in front of the motel office and remained in my unit until they left. I sealed the hole in the wall as best I could, just in case and left about twenty minutes after they did.

I called the Compton's and Nicki answered again.

"Remember me?" I said.

"I told Mrs. Compton what you said. She thinks you're crazy."

"I'm not. Too bad though, he's in custody right now. They caught him with his pants down, torturing some young kid."

"You gotta be shitting me!" she gasped. "S...Sylvie!"

In the distance I heard Mrs. Compton asking what the matter was.

"He says ... you better talk to the man!"

"Hello, who is this?"

"Hi Sylvie," I chirped. "Listen carefully. I called earlier and asked that you see a lawyer with a camera to the Decrepit Manor. You didn't. Now although the cops have Bruce in custody, he'll undoubtedly call his lawyer and get himself a viable story to tell about how it came that he had this young thing strung up on the closet door while whacking her ass with a riding crop. You, could have had pictures of it, but didn't follow instructions. You could have taken him to the cleaners in court."

"And now I can't unless ...?"

I laughed. "You're smarter than I gave you credit for, Sylvie. The unless is that you pay me a reasonable sum of money for the pictures I took."

"Just who are you, and why are you being so generous?"

"Let's just say that I find your husband a rotten son-of-a-bitch and leave it at that. I followed him this afternoon, saw him meet the girl. It seemed they'd met before. They drove off to the motel in their cars, I followed, and the rest is history."

"How much for the pictures? I want to see them first, of course."

"Let's meet at your place, shall we say in thirty minutes?"

"Thirty minutes it is ... Mr.?"

"Fortuitous, Mrs. Compton, Mr. Fortuitous."

She laughed heartily at that and hung up.

Two minutes later I pulled into her driveway. I wanted to be gone if she planned on calling the police.

"You're early," Nicki said on answering the door.

"It pays to be the early worm. That's how I caught Brucie the sadist."

"Sylvie, he's here!"

Sylvie was dressed demurely, in a loose sweater and shorts, with four-inch heels.

"Drink, Mr. Fortuitous?"

"No thank you, Sylvie." I handed her the camera. I'm guessing you know how these digital things work. Have a look at my work. Please don't bother erasing them; I've already had a set made at a drug store."

She nodded absently as she looked at the pictures.

"Ten thousand," she said quietly.

"Twenty-five. It's worth it. He may convince the judge of his innocence, but the pictures will win over any jury."

"Twenty, but I can't pay you now."

"I'll take an IOU, Sylvie. It should be worth it to you and Nicki," and in a whisper I added, "that is if you intend to keep on keepin' on with Nicki after the divorce."

That stunned her.

"Yeah, I've been watching the two of you as well. I wasn't sure about you so I was covering my bets just in case you turned me down. Brucie can use all the help he can get."

"You'll get your twenty thousand; now get the fuck out of my house."

I left and returned to the Klugman's where I was greeted effusively by non-other than ...