To a run down block of house’s

When Max got out, she found the pickup parked in the backyard of a run-down apartment block. Three rusted wrecked cars, great mounds of rotting rubbish and stray dogs dominated what she saw in the pale moonlight. She wrinkled her nose. The neighborhood was even more run-down than the house where Max had illegally squatted to live. Even the shabby pickup and its old owner still seemed too good for the area. When the old man motioned for her to follow, Max briefly considered whether she should just run, but it made no sense. She was still bound by her word, and she didn't even begin to know what part of Seattle she was in. So she sullenly followed the old man, who locked the pickup and then went to a broken-down front door in the western part of the backyard. She passed a half-open manhole cover, from which steam was rising as if hot air were wafting beneath it or a fire was raging. Just as she was about to risk a curious look, the old man roughly grabbed her narrow upper arm, which his thin but strong hand could loosely clasp, and pulled her roughly in the direction of the door. "You can go sightseeing when I'm done with you, you horny fuck piece," he grinned. She offered no resistance and followed without protest. He led her up a rotten, groaning staircase that creaked alarmingly even under Max's small weight and her feline, light steps. They climbed two flights of stairs and with each step Max felt more and more uncomfortable. It stank badly and next to the carcass of a dead cat, rats scurrying back and forth and piles of garbage that nestled against the walls of the following corridor and began to attack the walls with mold, Max heard the noises behind some doors that other residents were making: Moans, snores, gasps of pain. Her eyes reflected the undisguised disgust of this hovel, but the old man just grinned and pulled her on. "I guess you don't like it here, sweetie," he stated, "but you don't have to."

"My God, what a filthy hole, the last cleaning crew must have run away screaming," commented Max.

The old man shrugged, then smiled evilly. "Or she'll rot in the basement herself," he said dryly, "some of my esteemed neighbors may just be criminals and a little weird, but others don't just cook the stray cats. I won't rule out the possibility that one or two of the last cleaning ladies might be appetizing found."

Max raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was a joke. She'd heard of canibalism in the worst parts of Seattle, but she really hoped the old man hadn't brought her to such a bad part of town. After all, he lived here himself. Still, she decided not to ask aloud, as she didn't want to hear a specific answer or details. The old man stopped in front of a door that seemed quite stable. Max immediately noticed the electronic security lock that locked the door and looked as out of place in this run-down building as an elephant at the North Pole. The old man fished in his trouser pocket for a key card and pulled it through the lock, whose status light jumped from red to green. The door unlocked and snapped open. At least he's not stupid and made sure that someone didn't pick him up in his sleep and cook him, thought Max when the old man pulled her into his apartment. She secretly hoped that the apartment behind the door would be clean enough to look as out of place in this filthy shop as the lock that protected it, but her expectation was disappointed: the apartment, like the rest of the structure - small , shabby and terribly dirty. Empty cans and beer bottles were lying around everywhere, a fine layer of dirt had spread on the floor and spots of mold adorned the walls of the hallway, through which the old man led them to the next room. Max noticed a second security lock that blocked one of the rooms, but kept her discovery to herself. Behind another door, half hanging on its hinges, was the living room, consisting of a TV table with a matching TV and an old-fashioned recorder, a filthy sofa with two equally clean armchairs, the leather upholstery of which was torn in most places so that the upholstery material was showing, a flat coffee table full of bottles, and a wide, low, empty shelf that reached Max's waist and looked so ramshackle that she hardly dared look at it without fearing that her gaze might collapse it. The windows were covered with thick and yellowed curtains The heating was rusted like the car wrecks in the yard and on the table was the most overloaded and filled ashtray that Max had ever seen.

"Wow, a real gem of an apartment, you have it nice here," commented Max, while instinctively looking for escape routes and wondering what was waiting behind the half-open door, which in the opposite wall was the only visible exit other than the door, through which the old man led them in.

"Nice that you like it, Latina bitch," the old man grinned, ignoring her sarcasm. Instead, he pushed her forward roughly, so that Max landed on the dirty sofa. While she sat up sullenly, wondering what the guy was going to want from her next, he unabashedly stripped off his pants and soiled shirt to sit next to her in just shorts and a flabby beer belly exposed. He would want to fuck her, Max knew that, but she would have liked to know what the guy's preferences were and exactly what to expect. The Taser's effect was slowly wearing off and Max felt strong enough again to punch the old man down if he asked too blatant things of her, but she still didn't know where she was and how to get home from here. Also, she was still naked and was pretty sure this was definitely not the place for a sexy Latina to be roaming around alone at night. The old man ignored her for a few moments, but took various cans and bottles from the table and shook them in his hand to see which one still contained beer residue. When he caught one that wasn't empty, he hit the can hard and put it down again. Then he took a remote control and switched on the TV and the recorder. The picture took a while to build up, but the sound, which started a little earlier, told Max that the guy was obviously planning to watch porn. She heard a woman moaning loudly from the television and shortly afterwards the picture started. Max raised an eyebrow when she saw a not-too-unattractive, leggy blonde with clearly fake silicone tits getting fucked by two black guys.

"Great, a porn, I couldn't imagine anything more exciting now," Max complained.

"Save your joke you little whore, better be thankful I saved your ass from the cops. If I hadn't been nice enough to give you a lift, the cops would be hitting you in some cell right now," grunted the old man and looked for a second beer on the table.

"Oh yes, how selfless and chivalrous," Max said without hiding the irony in her voice, "and certainly without any ulterior motives. Then I can go now if I say thank you quickly and politely."

"You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you," the old man said sternly and with a certainty that sent a shiver down Max's spine. The guy certainly didn't know who he was dealing with, but unfortunately the same was true the other way around. The guy was odd and certainly not as harmless as his age made him seem, "but you can make yourself useful."

"And how?" Max's voice betrayed how unenthusiastic she was at the prospect of being fucked by the old man, but he didn't seem to mind. He wanted her and he probably didn't mind if she did it reluctantly, as long as she did what he asked.

"First as a base, lean back," he demanded and Max obeyed. She spread her legs slightly, but had misunderstood him. Instead of mounting her as expected, he first grabbed her firm tits and kneaded them and licked her nipples with his tongue. His touch was rough and coarse, but Max felt her heat return slightly, which had previously expelled dirt and dinginess. Then the guy grabbed a silver box and sat on her thighs. Max looked at him questioningly. He opened the box and took out a vial and a small packet of white powder. "Normally I'd say you should hold up your tits," the old man grinned wickedly, "but that's probably not necessary with your full, magnificent tits. They stick out like porn udders anyway. So just hold still." Max rolled her eyes as he sprinkled the powder onto the tops of her breasts and ran his fingers into a smooth line. He looked at her greedily and hornily, then he took the tube and sucked the coke up his nose, first from her right and then from her left breast. His cock, meanwhile, began to stiffen further while in the background the woman in the porn screamed louder than before. Then cheap porn music kicked in. "So now it's your turn," he demanded, sitting down from her and drawing a line on the dirty table. He handed her the tube. Max considered briefly whether a contradiction would make sense, then decided against it and went to pull the coke, but he still held her back. "No, you're sitting here," he said promptly, patting his thighs. Max obeyed, sat spread-legged on your lap and stuck out her butt while leaning forward. The old man pulled her back a bit so that she felt his cock on her butt. He seemed even harder and plumper than before. She didn't resist and sniffed the white powder. If the guy really wanted to fuck her on ****, she shouldn't care, after all it wasn't her first **** fuck.

As she sucked in the substance, she felt a tingling run through her body. Heat rose in her and she couldn't tell if it was from the **** or if it was her cat genes raging in her body again. A light veil seemed to cover her eyes. "That's not coke at all," she stated, feeling slightly dazed. The tingling had reached her breasts and felt somehow electric.

"I never said so either," the old man replied, whose cock hardened even more on Max's bottom and seemed to get almost unnaturally taut. "But it's good stuff, you'll notice that when the effect kicks in." He grabbed her tits from behind and kneaded them roughly with both hands, which had more strength than Max had expected. "Get on your knees, Latina slut," grunted the old man, "bring me your hot tits." Max did as he asked, surprising herself that she would kneel so willingly between his old legs. Normally her heat got her horny, but her prey pattern stayed the same and the old man certainly wasn't one of them. Before she could think any further, she licked his glans, which was still clinging to the remains of the sperm from the last blowjob, and then leaned forward to press her plump, round breasts around his cock. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, she began rubbing her tingling breasts, which felt somehow tight, up and down and fondling the cock. "Oh yeah you ghetto whore, you're doing well," the old man gasped, leaning back and enjoying what was happening. His grin looked somehow more evil than before, Max thought, but didn't pay any more attention to it and just kept going