The Apartment - Part 6

[Carl Bradford]

Jane clocked in at the front office and made a beeline for the coffee pot. She poured a cup and was doctoring it (she was never a fan of straight black coffee) when her boss, Will, called to her from his office.

“What’s up, jefe?” She asked, leaning in his doorway.

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at her from behind his laptop. “Got a call from McMillan Plumbing yesterday, looks like that cleanout unit is going to need a few days worth of repairs.”

“Oh yeah?” Jane said, stirring her coffee.

“Yeah. All covered under contract so it’s not gonna cost us anything extra, but it’s gonna prevent you working in there - the sewer line, I think. It’s always the sewer lines around here, isn’t it? But then I got to thinking, when was the last time you had a day off?”

Jane laughed.

“That long, huh?” Will smirked. “Did those idiots at iSmart give you any vacation time?”

Jane laughed again.

“Thought not,” Will murmured. He stood up from behind his desk and walked around to Jane.

“Look,” he said. “You do a great job around here. I know how hard you work, I know how long you’ve been doing it, and I don’t want to lose you to burn out. So as of now, you get two weeks paid vacation every year, with a week added for every year you stick around. You also get ten personal days to use whenever you want, no questions asked, and more the longer you stay. For now, though, I’ve got a suggestion: why don’t you take the rest of the week off?”

Jane stood up straight. “What?”

“You can’t finish that clean out until the plumbing is done, and there’s not much else going on at the moment. I’m buried under paperwork for the next few days,” he nodded toward his laptop and the piles of papers on his desk, “so if anything comes up I’d be only too happy to step out of the office and take care of it. What I’m saying, my dear Janey,” he laughed, “Is you should go home and not come back until Monday.”

“Seriously?” She asked.

“Seriously,” Will answered. “Go rest, you’ve earned it. This won’t count toward vacation or personal days, consider it a bonus for everything you’ve been doing — at least until I can get a pay raise approved.” He smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “While you’re out, be thinking about taking a real vacation this year. We can talk when you get back.”

————————————————————————

Jane sat in her car, stunned. Take the rest of the week off? Wow. If Will wasn’t married Jane would’ve offered to bear his children right on the spot.

I still might, she thought.

“What do I do now?” She said out loud.

Even though it was obvious.

————————————————————————

Jane, back in the abandoned apartment, stood in front of the slave room mirror and looked at her reflection.

She was completely nude, her large nipples already growing firm with anticipation. In her hands was the steel collar from the gym bag.

Turning the collar over in her hands, she examined it again: smooth, seamless, stainless steel, with a leash ring on the side opposite the tiny electrodes, it was lighter than it looked. She’d done some online research and had determined that it was a training dummy, without any electronics, and was therefore safe to use. Fiddling with it a bit, she managed to open it, the circle splitting into two half-circles as it hinged near the back.

Today, she thought, will be focused on finding clues about Aubree, and I may as well get in the spirit.

Looking back at the mirror, Jane took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Taking the collar in both hands, she carefully placed it around her neck and snapped it closed. It was an inoperative hunk of metal, and she knew how to open it, so there was nothing to be worried about. Nonetheless, she felt butterflies erupt in her stomach, and her mouth suddenly got very dry.

In the mirror was a young woman who appeared (at least to a casual observer) to be a slave. Jane spread her legs and clasped her hands behind her head - the “Display” position, she believed. Or was it “Present?” Her breathing had quickened a bit, so her breasts were moving up and down in a pronounced, almost hypnotic, manner. She felt a swift flow of goosebumps run up her spine to the back of her head, and she shuddered slightly.

I know this will be totally cringe, Jane thought, but I need to see what it’s like. She licked her lips, then said out loud: “Please buy me, master, I will be your servant in every way.”

Jeez, she thought, her face turning red as she dropped her arms, then aloud she said, “I should just get to work.”

————————————————————————

Naked, collared Jane knelt on the floor next to the coffee table, going through Aubree’s accumulation of stuff. Lots of food wrappers, discarded packaging, wadded-up receipts, random items of clothing, trash of all kinds, but so far nothing interesting.

At least it’s clear where she was eating, and it wasn’t always kibble, Jane thought as she examined a half-empty bottle of water. Holding up an empty soda can, she compared the rims: the water bottle had lipstick on it, the soda did not. There was no makeup of any kind in the bathroom, nor had she found any in the bedroom (though she did find an unused pair of rubber sandals, which Jane wore rather than walk around barefoot on the dingy carpet).

“So it’s likely,” Jane muttered, “that Aubree had at least one female visitor, and fairly recently judging by the date on the bottle.”

She tossed the can and the bottle into a garbage bag, then got on all fours to reach under the couch. Jane lowered herself down to her elbows, her bottom raised high in the air, and took a moment to move her knees wide apart; she could feel the cool breeze from the air conditioning vent above her, running across her most private and intimate areas, now lasciviously displayed. Dear God I feel so hot like this, she thought. I need to do this in front of the mirror. And maybe later in front of Sal…

Fishing around under the couch, she pulled out the remote control to the television, a bunch of loose (probably dead) batteries, more balled-up trash, a dusty rubber sandal, and a laptop computer.

Oh ho, what have we here? Jane thought as she opened the cover. The computer came to life after a few seconds, it still had around 30% battery power left, and the screen displayed a login page.

“Well, crap,” she said out loud. She could see a login name above the password field - “AdenM2020”- but nothing else.

Jane heard a loud knock on the door.

————————————————————————

Jane looked out the peephole and saw a big man: tall (5’10" or 5’11"?) and heavy with muscle - beefy is how Jane would describe him - with a ruddy pink face, short red hair cut in a flat top, and a trimmed mustache. He wore a dark suit with a white shirt and a solid colored tie, and thick-soled shoes, which she could see because he stood back from and to one side of the door. Everything, Jane thought, about this guy screams “cop.”

He waited a moment, then knocked again. “I know you’re in there,” he said in a loud voice, “You’re not in trouble, I just need to talk.” No badge, and not leading off with “Police, open the door,” Jane thought, so maybe not a cop? Or one who doesn’t want to advertise because he’s not here on official business. She looked around quickly, gathering her thoughts. He probably saw my shadow move across the lens, so no sense trying to BS him, and no time to get dressed before he opens the door on his own…

What would Domino do? she asked herself.

Jane grabbed the laptop, dashed into the back of the apartment, then returned to the door and took a very deep breath.

————————————————————————

The big man walked inside the apartment and looked around, his gaze falling on the girl holding the door open. Damn, she’s cute, he thought, what the hell is she doing here? Curvy as hell, cute face, big firm tits barely covered by a slave apron. He looked her up and down for a long minute; her face and neck started to turn red and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Who are you?” he asked.

"Slave Emily, sir," Jane said, clutching a broom tightly in her other hand. She couldn’t believe she was doing this: she had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so naked as she did right now. This man was twice her size, probably armed, she’s completely defenseless, alone, and no one knows she’s here. What would he make her do?

Anything he wanted to, of course. And he clearly liked what he saw.

Oh God, I’m starting to get excited.

“Clean up crew?” he asked, his eyes running over every inch of her large breasts. Good thing I’ve had my clothes off for a while, she thought, no tell-tale elastic marks on my skin.

"Yes, sir,"she said, not elaborating. No sense volunteering information.

“Who owns you?”

“Lakeland Investment Properties, sir,” Jane said. “The company that owns and manages this apartment complex.”

The cop finally raised his gaze to her face. “What’s your TiC?”

Tick? What in the world–, Jane thought, then got a grip on herself before she panicked. He’s a cop, it must be an abbreviation, for…

“Two months, six days time in collar, sir,” she answered.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked at her for a long moment. A very long moment. Jane kept her eyes on the floor, waited and concentrated on not shaking. Embarrassed didn’t begin to describe it - she was mortified. At least he hasn’t commented on her body yet. Yet.

You have to be out of your mind, Jane thought. The first time you’ve ever been almost fully naked in front of a man, and it’s some plainclothes cop in an abandoned apartment and he thinks you’re a slave. Some plan. Well done, genius. Her thoughts flashed to her mother and sisters, and what they would say if they saw her now; her shame grew so intense it made her a little dizzy.

But the other half of her mind was whispering: he’s not bad looking, he’s obviously strong so could manhandle you pretty easily into all kinds of shapes and positions, young so he might have serious stamina, as tall as he is there’s a good chance he’s got a bigger-than-average cock–

Finally the man turned his gaze on the rest of the apartment. “I’m looking for someone,” he said, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He thumbed open a photo and showed it to Jane. “Seen her?”

Unsurprisingly, it was Audree. A low-res digital photo, but not the one from the Texas Ag Department website - maybe from her driver’s license?

Jane shook her head. “No, sir,” she replied, truthfully.

“Goes by Audie, something like that," he said, putting away the phone. “Found anything while you’re cleaning? Anything with a name? Bills, receipts, stuff with an out-of-town address?”

“No, sir,” Jane said. “The manager told me to look for things like that. No bills, nothing with anyone’s name on it, all the receipts were for fast-food or grocery store purchases in cash. You can see them in there.” Jane gestured toward the collection of garbage bags.

The man nodded. “I’m going to take a look around,” he said, putting away the phone. “Drop the broom and follow me.”

The man looked inside each room, poking through the contents quickly and not very thoroughly. When he saw the slave training room Jane heard him mutter, “Aw, shit;” he snapped a photo but didn’t search the room. When he bent over to lift the mattress in the bedroom, Jane saw the distinctive yellow grip of a Taser jutting from a holster on his belt.

Finally the man returned to the front room, Jane following behind like a dog trained to heel.

“What’s a cute girl like you doing as a general labor slave?” he asked.

“I don’t know, sir,” Jane replied, her voice quavering a bit; cute, huh? “I assume the company needed a broom pusher more than it needed anything else.”

“Hm,” he pondered, then said, “How’d you end up here?”

“My father owed money,” she said, making it up as she went along and hoping it sounded plausible. “I saved my family from being homeless.”

The big man nodded. “Well, however it happened you are way too hot to be working your sweet ass off in a place like this,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” Jane said, genuinely smiling.

Suddenly the man placed his hands on the top of the apron, pulling it down enough to expose her breasts, then gently twirled her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Goosebumps ran up Jane’s spine, and she felt her skin start to warm up. Oh my god, she thought, this is really happening. I’m just going to let this man do whatever he wants with me, and I’ll smile and accept it all like a good little slave girl.

Jane felt his hand on her crotch, running over her Venus mons underneath the apron, burrowing a finger into her labia. To Jane’s intense embarrassment, she was clearly quite wet - she formed a spot on the rough fabric. Fighting her natural shyness as hard as she could, she reacted to the first man since high school touching her intimately as she assumed a slave girl two months in the collar would: she lowered her eyelids and let out a soft moan.

The big man examined at his finger, damp with her juices, and smiled.

“Slave Emily, when was the last time you were fucked?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“Not since I was purchased, sir.”

“I think I should rectify that right now,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and pressing downward. Taking the hint, Jane got on her knees in front of him.

Oh my God, this is it, she thought. The knot in her stomach tightened, but at the same time she could feel that certain feeling in her crotch…

“You haven’t been to obedience school, have you?” he asked.

“No, sir,” she said, her anxiety spiking.

“Thought not,” he said. “Look, step one is to take your eyes off my shoes and look up at me.” He took her chin in his hand and gently tilted her head upward. “Besides, you’re too pretty to keep your face hidden.” Jane smiled at him, feeling lightheaded. “Step two is to unzip me and take out Big Mike.”

Trembling a bit from equal doses of humiliation, fear and desire, Jane unzipped his trouser front and reached inside with one hand. Threading it through the flap in his shorts, she grasped the warm muscle (already growing rigid) and eased it out.

It was pretty big, smooth, pink, getting thicker and stiffer by the second.

That thing is going inside of me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, she thought. And that is sooo hot…

“Good,” Original Mike (she assumed) said. “Now back hands – a slave uses only her mouth unless told otherwise.”

Jane obediently crossed her wrists behind her back like a good little slave girl, opened her mouth and leaned forward, her large breasts with their hard nipples swaying slightly. She licked the tip of his fat pink cock, fully rigid now, while keeping her gaze up at him. He looked back at her, a half-smile on his face. He tasted like sweat, which wasn’t as bad as she had expected - she could deal with it.

Honestly, it was kinda hot that he hadn’t even offered to clean up beforehand; after all, it’s not like a slave girl has a choice.

Here goes nothing, Jane thought, and took the head of his cock into her mouth. Original Mike let out a low groan. She felt a thrill run up and down her body.

I did that! she shouted inside her head.

She bobbed her head with a steady rhythm, taking a little more of his length into her mouth with each stroke. Jane didn’t have much experience giving blowjobs (this was number four in her entire life, and the first one done on her knees) but she knew there was no way she was getting that thing down her throat. She moaned, vibrating him, and in return he muttered, “Damn.”

Gotta give my jaw a quick rest, she thought. Taking him out of her mouth, she started licking up one side of his cock and down the other. She had no idea if that felt good enough, but it was worth a try.

“Oh, yeah,” he whispered. I guess it does feel good enough, Jane thought.

It was Mike’s turn to vibrate, in pulses. He cursed and took out his phone. Jane thought it was best to get back to sucking, and he didn’t stop her.

“Horvath,” he said, then, “I’m in the apartment now. Nothing. Well, a slave room.” A brief pause; Jane could hear a voice coming from the phone, but couldn’t make out the words. "Yeah, I know. Makes sense, really,’ Mike Horvath added, nodding, then asked “Can it wait?” The voice on the other end spoke a bit louder this time, and she could feel Horvath tense up.

“Alright, alright, I’m on my way,” he said, then shut off the phone and cursed. He reached out and placed a hand on Jane’s head, stopping her, then moving her backwards until her mouth disengaged from his cock with a pop.

“Duty calls, slave Emily,” he sighed, sounding exasperated. “I’ll have to take a raincheck - can’t be bustin’ a nut while I’m still on the clock, wrecks my concentration." He wrestled his erect penis into his pants, zipping up awkwardly.

“Y’know," he said, "for not having any training you’re pretty good. I’ll be back - count on it.” Placing a hand on the side of her face, he smiled and winked at her.

Jane grinned like an idiot. “Thank you, sir,” she said, sincerely.

He took out his wallet and handed her a plain card displaying his name, a phone number, and the embossed badge of the Houston Police Department. “If you find anything, make sure your master gives me a call.”

————————————————————————

Jane remained kneeling in the living room until she heard Mike’s footsteps fade away down the outside steps, then stood as quickly and as quietly as possible and looked out the peephole.

All clear.

Jane threw the deadbolt, the chain and the safety bar, then raced back to the bedroom to find the other rubbery items she had discovered in addition to the sandals: a cardboard box with several, er, “sex toys” she supposed was the term? Well, assorted vibrators, dildos, a set of gradated butt plugs, and a couple of things she couldn’t identify, all shoved haphazardly under the mattress. She had already cleaned them, hoping to maybe sneak some of them into her car that evening; just before answering the door she had hidden the laptop in the bottom of the box, covered it with a piece of cardboard, then tossed all the phalluses on top.

Dumping the box out onto the bed, she grabbed a thick, slightly curved dildo made out of some kind of glass and sprinted into the slave room.

Jane stopped in front of the mirror, knelt down facing it, ripped the apron off over her head, then took the glass dildo as far into her mouth as she could and held it there. Crossing her wrists behind her back, she looked at her reflection, imagining what she looked like to Mike The Cop. Chest heaving, knees widespread, crotch soaked, she imagined she was the perfect picture of a slutty slave girl.

But sucking on a glass dong wasn’t going to cut it. Jane sat down, spreading her legs as wide as she could, still facing the mirror. Holding the dildo by the base, she licked the head thoroughly then pressed it against her vaginal lips. Stroking it up and down her opening, she managed to get it much more slick than from her saliva alone, then slowly pushed it inside herself. When the slightly bulbous head made it past her outer muscles she felt a slight pop and nearly orgasmed right then. Barely keeping control of herself, Jane moved the dildo in and out in short strokes, waiting for the rest of her tunnel to relax. Leaning back until she rested on one elbow, she pushed the dildo further and further, making her strokes deeper and more rapid.

Jane’s breathing increased, she dropped her head back, and she started to moan, all telltale signs she was about to cum when she stopped. Turning around she got on all fours, lowered her head and thrust her hips as high as she could. Taking the glass cock again, she reached between her legs and pushed it back in. Looking alternately over her shoulder and between her legs, she could see what the mirror saw, and what Bigger Mike would have seen if his phone hadn’t interrupted: a hot, slutty slave girl, breathing hard, a light sheen of sweat starting to appear on her skin, humping the glass cock as much as she was thrusting it, mewling with pleasure, her free hand resting beside her head, grasping the leash ring on her slave collar, occasionally tugging on it.

Jane imagined Officer Mike spanking her creamy white ass as he thrust his fat cock into her, calling her “slut” and asking if she wanted his hot cum. “Yes, sir,” Jane managed to breath out, “Please fill this slave’s hot pussy!”

That was it: she came, hard, a shrieking orgasm so profound that afterward she almost felt like she’d suffered a stroke.

Jane collapsed on the floor, her breathing ragged, her skin hot, a glass dildo still half-buried in her vagina.

She closed her eyes, deciding that Domino would be proud of her.

[Carl Bradford]

As I remarked before, this author has mastered the sense of impending doom. Thus far, Jane has been caught playing slave at least twice yet escaped--how long before it becomes permanent? Thank you for this!

[Roy Jasper]

This segment raises some interesting possibilities. Do police officers ordinarily carry equipment that will let them scan the data on a slave's collar and microchip? (A nonexistent chip in this case.) I suspect they do, and this could come into play during a further encounter between the two of them. What will happen when both Original Mike and Big Mike find out that Jane is just playing at being a slave girl?

[ElJefe]

So, we've got a mystery here.

We know that Audrey is not some local girl who read one too many Hillary Rodham novels and booked on down to HCI or Longhorn to self-enslave. How do we know that?

Audrey had to produce an ID to rent the apartment. It's a simple matter to connect her ID and her SIN. If a distraught relative or friend called her in as a missing person, Detective Mike doesn't even have to go to the complex to find out what happened; he can do most of the work from his desk. A quick review of LCI/Longhorn check-in video, and boom, case closed.

The next possibility is that Audrey rented the apartment with a fake ID. We can write that one off almost immediately. How would Detective Mike have tracked her to the apartment if someone had reported her missing with a different ID? So, that didn't happen.

Likewise, Audrey is not someone who got into legal or financial trouble and took the "Intro Slavery" course to prepare for the next phase of her life. There would be a record of her charges, or a record of her debt enslavement if that was the case.

She was not enslaved by force. If she'd have been held prisoner in her own apartment to prepare her for slavery, she'd have been reported missing much earlier.

That leaves fraud or coercion. And that would be a reason for Detective Mike of the Human Trafficking division to be involved. Blackmail of some sort could be involved.

Another angle is the possibility that Audrey was not the person enslaved, and that she provided slave training to another female in her apartment. If that's the case, something must have gone quite wrong for her to skip town in that fashion, as her disappearance would attract attention. This is less likely because she's been reported missing; if she was part of some criminal enterprise she would have a cover story for friends and family.

Now, let's look at our heroine. By making false statements of a material nature to the detective, she has already committed the crime of evidence tampering. I'm not talking about her identity (that is a separate crime, albeit a minor one), I'm talking about the evidence (laptop) she concealed from him. That is likely the key piece of evidence in the case. It doesn't matter that she concealed it for her own personal use (solving the case) as opposed to thwarting his investigation. The important thing is that she deliberately concealed a "thing" that was material to his investigation. This is currently a felony in Texas.

If he discovers this by her bringing it to him, he may be willing to let this slide. Otherwise, it won't go well for her.

You can bet he now has a record of speaking to a "Slave Emily" and a physical description of her. It's unlikely this will come up again unless he decides he wants to speak to her again or investigate the apartment again. Then he will quickly find that the complex owns no "Slave Emily" or any person resembling her, and she will quickly become a Person of Interest and possibly even a suspect. If he encounters her again as "Slave Emily", he may seize her as a presumed runaway slave. If he determines she is not a slave, he may continue to hold her as a case of unregistered self-enslavement. If he encounters her in her normal identity, we're back to impersonating a slave, a common dodge to allow free persons to engage in unregistered prostitution. The penalty is, of course, enslavement.

There's a lot here to work with.

[Mr. Smith]

Impersonating a slave in public is a misdemeanor in Texas with a mandatory minimum sentence of 180 days enslavement.