Alison steps up the pressure

“The deal was just once a week, you don't have to do this.” I'm trying to be fair with my naïve tenant, but it is hard to resist her, especially when she is egging me on.

“It's OK, Mr. P,” She whispers softly, “You can do anything you want, really.”

“It's not just what I want, Alison.” I stammer uncertainly, “If we do anything, I want you to take an active part.”

“Oh I know that, Mr. P,” Alison nervous laughter fills the living room, “You're one of the nicest men I know, but we're talking about fantasies. You said everyone has them, right?” With a sigh, I nod my head in defeat. After what she shared with me last night the least I can do is be honest with her.

“OK, Mr. Patterson.” She casually wraps her arms around my neck and smiles up at me sweetly. “But for now, let's assume that you're not as nice as you pretend to be. I want to know about your deepest darkest fantasies.” She shhh's me before I can protest. “Be honest, Mr. P. If for some reason you had a young woman completely under your control, what would you do with her?”

“You mean, like a tenant who falls behind on her rent?” I shake my head sadly, it is all too clear what I would do under those circumstances.

“No Mr. P,” Alison licks her lips in anticipation, “I mean completely under your control.” Her voice is showing her excitement, “Imagine that you're a virile warrior-prince who's forces have just overwhelmed an entire nation and their beloved and stunningly beautiful princess is caught by your men and brought to you.” By now there is no doubt where this is going it is just a matter of time before you can no longer hold back. “Or maybe you're a licentious Inquisitor investigating a young noblewoman who's family is accused of being secret Jews and the poor Senorita who falls into your hands.”

“Those were different times -” I start, but Alison cuts me off immediately.

“Come on, Mr. P, I don't think men have changed that much from way back in antiquity.” Now I'm being lectured by my teenaged tenant, “according to Dr. Lark, even today soldiers take women as spoils of war.” Her breathing is getting more ragged and her sentences come out in short gasps. “As a Southerner I grew up on stories of the atrocities of Yankee raiders who stormed through the South at the end of the great war. Invaders who rode into our small towns and villages, forcing their way into isolated plantations and demanding satisfaction from the helpless Southern ladies who've been left behind by their menfolk.” She wiggles in my arms rubbing the tips of her pretty breasts against my chest as she goes on. “These things still happen even today.” I stand in stunned silence trying to figure out how I lost control of this whole damned situation. She nods towards the NFL game that is flickering on the TV.

“Sports are a kind of normalized warfare, aren't they.” She leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “I heard about a trio of high-school cheerleaders in North Carolina that were gang-banged by a whole team of football players when they wandered into the rival team's locker room by mistake.” I must have given something away when she mentioned the cheerleaders because she gets a sly smile on her face.

“Or you could be a really bad man. Sir, like a dangerous criminal.” She stares over my shoulder for a second or to and then her smile gets even bigger. “Oooo, like a mafia Don, who discovers too late that one of your trusted lieutenants is an FBI informant.” Alison slips out of the hanging straps so her dress is hanging loosely around her hips before she lays out the scenario. “Because of his information, a whole section of your operation is compromised - and even worse than that, your son is killed in a shootout with the Feds.” Now it is my turn to shudder nervously as Alison continues. “The traitor and his family are whisked away into a witness protection program, but your men are able to snatch his pretty daughter from her college dorm before the FBI can get her to safety.”

“I see.” Even as I stall for time I wonder where my sweet young tenant comes up with these dark fantasies of hers. “That would be pretty much completely under my control.” I sit back and study her for almost a full minute before I give in. “All right, what exactly is it that you want to know?” I see just a hint of a smile before she takes on a serious pose and studies me like a teacher grilling a tardy student.

“You could do anything at all. Tell me,” she insists, “what exactly would you do with that innocent young woman.” It is hard to think straight when you have a half-naked young woman in your arms, and even harder when she is whispering in your ear. “Would you like to subdue her as she fights tooth-and-nail or would you prefer to have her pleading piteously as you spread her legs?”

I try not to overthink the implications of what I am saying. “Well I have no interest in beating any poor girl into submission, but I don't want someone just laying under me crying softly as I take her.” Alison licks her lips delicately leaving a sheen on them that makes them even more kissable. Her undisguised interest encourages me to elaborate with unexpected honesty. “The ideal would be to have her struggle and protest until it is clear that I am too strong for her and then as I spread her legs she pleads with me to be merciful.”

“And would you give her mercy?” Alison is unable to hide her excitement. “Remember, this is the sheltered daughter of a powerful mafioso family, I doubt she's had any real experience with boys.”

“Well, I don't know if it is merciful,” I chuckle softly, “but I wouldn't be quick. I'd take my time, forcing my cock into her slowly making the moment of her first surrender last for as long as possible.” Alison squirms at my descriptive explanation. “Oh and I'd film the whole thing and send it to her parents so they could watch their daughter's cherry being popped over and over again.”

“You see?” Alison's expressive eyes meet mine without flinching, “you could be a cruel, cruel man if you wanted to be.” The invitation in her eyes is unmistakable and we stand in the living room in silence watching each other for any tell, like poker players at the final table of a WPT event.