Let me start with a typical New York story. I live in a walk-up - 6 stories, no elevator, old everything. And like a lot of New Yorkers, we have a live-in superintendent in the building. Now, in theory a live-in super is a great thing: if something breaks or you're locked out, you just have to go knock on his door to get help. I moved into my building 6 months ago and quickly learned that, while it was easy to get help, the super wasn't someone I wanted around.
It started off shortly after I moved in. He was always sitting outside the building, leering at me and the other women who lived there. When I climbed the stairs, I could see him below, craning his neck to look up my skirt. It got worse when things started to break in my apartment. He would come in and linger, touching things that he shouldn't (like my box of tampons) and always asking inappropriate questions. When he was fixing my sink, he opened a drawer in the bathroom to reveal a toy I had failed to put back in the bedroom after washing. He waved it at me and laughed, then casually asked how I fit it all in. Mortified, I snatched it from his hands and returned it to the bedroom.
Unfortunately, things in my place didn't stop breaking, and the super didn't stop leering at me outside of the apartment. Finally, I reached my breaking point. I came home one day to find a half-assed maintenance notice on my door. "Something with the kitchen sink" had gone amiss, and he had let himself in while I was at work. Furious, I let myself in and sized up the damage. He was sloppy with his work, and it was no different with his snooping. My dresser drawer was still half opened, panties and toys clearly rummaged through. I took a look at my laundry hamper, too, and found that most of the dirty panties in there had gone missing.
Ready to cry, I decided I needed to get out of there. Unfortunately, I was six months into my lease and didn't have much of an option. Instead, I decided to blow off some steam, so I called a friend and headed out to a nearby bar, hoping I'd never have to return.
...
Four hours later, I found myself stumbling back home. I had been pissed, so I was drinking quickly and with abandon. All I could think then was how badly I needed to pee and to get back into my bed. In my hurry, though, I tripped right over the curb two blocks from my apartment. I went flying, and so did my purse. I quickly scrambled to shove my belongings back in and made my way home. I caught the door of the building as two other tentants were leaving and hiked my way up to the 4th floor. I paused outside 4A and fumbled in my purse for the keys.
Nothing.
I reached in again, more frantically. My phone was there. So was my wallet. And iPod. Everything seemed to be there except the thing I needed most at that moment. I stood there, knowing that there was only one way into my unit, and that meant ringing the bell to apartment 1, the super. I carefully made my way down the stairs, terrified that I might fall and end myself right there. Once at the bottom, I paused again, then raised a trembling hand and knocked twice on the door.
I didn't have to wait long - it was as if he had been waiting by the door. I quickly - and drunkenly - explained that I had misplaced my keys and that he would need to let me in. He told me that he would have to find his master set and that it would be a few minutes. At that point, my bladder interjected and overruled my brain.
"A few minutes?" I slurred. "Could I at least use your bathroom while you look."
He flashed a dirty smile at me, but I was in no mood to wait. I rushed in and found the bathroom, closed the door and sat down on the toilet. The crying feeling was coming back; I put my elbows on my knees and rested my head in my hands. Just then, I heard something I had not expected - the door opened.
To my horror, there was the super, wearing absolutely nothing. His hairy legs and chest, New York-Italian olive skin, paunchy stomach and receding hairline were all there to see. I was paralyzed. My words failed me. Then he took a step in and closed the door behind him.
I tried to stand up and move, but in the tight space and with my pants around my ankles, I just tripped and fell to the floor. I tried to help myself up, but instead found myself staring directly at his cock. For a second I found myself noticing how big it was, then I snapped back to reality. Fear was starting to take hold of me, and it seemed there was only one outcome for this situation, so I decided maybe I could strike up a bargain.
"What do you want?" I asked him, fully aware of the answer. He responded by taking a step forward. His cock brushed against my cheek, smearing pre-cum. Then he paused and thought about it.
"One night," he said. "One night, you consent, and I will let you move out tomorrow."
I was left with an impossible decision. If I said no, it was almost certain that he would rape me, then god-knows-what. If I said yes, I was consenting and had no recourse. But he was going to let me break my lease...with New York rents, that came out to him relieving over $12,000 in future rent charges - and that was $12,000 I didn't have. Was it worth one wretched night to never be harassed by him again?
It appeared he was going to force a decision - he grabbed my hair and moved me head back so he could force himself in my throat. Suddenly I found myself exclaiming, "okay, I'll do it! Just don't hurt me." And with that he stood back and let me stand up.
"Clothes off now," he said. I stripped what remained and looked at him. "Now," he said "you service me tonight. I will not take no for an answer. Unless, of course, you can hand me a check for the next six months."
I felt myself dripping sweat, unsure just what he was going to force me to do. He walked over and clumsily started to fondle me. First my breasts, then down to my slit. He poked his sausage-sized fingers in there, trying to start lubrication. Reluctantly, my body obliged, and he started rubbing much faster. Much to my consternation, my breath was shortening and I could feel small tingles running up my spine. Just like that, though, his attention shifted and he moved to fondling my ass. Without warning, he shoved a barely-lubricated figure into my unconditioned ass. Pain shot through me and I let out a yelp. I could feel his cock jump and smack me against my hip; I knew then that this was not going to be an easy night.
He worked his finger deeper in my ass, then added another one - also dry. By then the pain was almost unbearable. He twisted them around and bent me over some; at that point, I started to cry. He continued a little while more, then pulled his fingers out and told me to stand up. He came over and looked me in my face, then stuck the two fingers in my mouth. I gagged at the taste and tried to spit them out, but he jammed them deeper. The tears streamed down my face, and my nose began to run as drool poured from my mouth. I was wondering if I would even survive the night.
Realizing that I was losing control, I decided I had to take matters into my own hands, before things got worse. I dropped to my knees - much to his surprise - and took his cock in my hand. He moved forward approvingly, and I took as much of it as I could in my mouth. It filled me more than anything I could remember - not even my 8" toy came close. I closed my eyes and sucked as he drew back and began ramming my throat. It still hurt, but it was bearable, and his hand firmly on my shoulder was starting to feel good. The tingling sensation came back, and I began to move my head back and forth to match his motions. I had found my goal - make him cum, and end this night as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately, he caught onto that rather quickly and pulled out before I could make him finish. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up, then led me out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He closed the door there and locked it, then pushed me onto the bed. I fell onto my stomach and he wasted no time following me. Much to my surprise, though, I felt his tongue plow into my wounded ass. It was a new feeling, and I immediately felt myself getting wetter. He licked harder, probing the slight gape, and I arched my hips up to meet him. Much as I wanted not to, I was grabbing the sheets and writing in pleasure. He started playing with my clit in tandem, and I let out a short moan. With that he reached into a drawer and pulled out something that really surprised me - my 8" toy! He spit on my ass and, before I could say or do anything, jammed the head of the toy in my tight hole. To my surprise, it didn't hurt like before. It hurt, but there was pleasure too. He worked the toy all the way in, then out, then back in again - plunging it in rhythmically. Finally, he pulled it all the way out, and I felt him positioning himself over me. He pushed his head against my hole, pausing briefly before plunging in. I had never been fucked in the ass before, but being forced into it was proving quite the experience. He grabbed my hips and threw himself against me; I could feel my ass bruising with each thrust. I could also feel him moving closer to climax - and my freedom. Instead, though, I moved forward, pulling him out, and went back for more. He knew what I was going for and forced me back on the bed, then positioned his ass over my face. I tried to raise my head up, but he forced himself down, and my tongue met his hole. I could feel the weight of him holding me down, and I got even wetter. Then I went to work on his hole - first a gentle probing motion, then unabashed, all-out licking. He moaned and jammed himself closer; I responded by probing even deeper until finally he moved his hips up and substituted his throbbing cock in my mouth. He pushed it even deeper than before, cutting off my breath. All the while he massaged my wet clit - driving me absolutely insane. He pulled ou long enough for me to catch my breath, then plunged in again. He held himself in there much, much longer this time. I was terrified that I couldn't breathe, and it made me even wetter. Just as I could feel myself fading, he pulled out and let me breathe again.
I rolled over, exhausted, and he sat up on the bed. "Okay," he said "you can do whatever you want now."
"Does that mean I can terminate my lease?" I asked.
"Anything you want. You're free to go."
For some reason, that gave me pause. After all that, I wasn't sure I wanted my freedom. The bruising, the forcing - all of it was something no man had given me before. Then I smiled, rolled back onto my stomach, lifted my ass in the air and wiggled it.
"We can deal with that in a minute," I said "But there's one place you haven't gone yet."
I walked out of his apartment late that morning, his cum still dripping out of me and his mark of ownership firmly on my bruised ass. When I got home I went to my kitchen sink and broke off the handle. I guess I would need to call the super.
