Wait an hour or so

When I converted the upstairs to a suite of rooms I put locks on all the doors, it was a way of giving my tenants a sense of ownership and security even though I kept a copy of the key. The bedroom door however I also equipped with a heavy bolt that could only be opened only by whoever was inside; until my conversation with Alison I never even thought about whether my tenants appreciated the extra level of security but now I can't help but wonder. Had she taken my warning seriously? It would be a simple test to see if Alison was willing to let me push the relationship to a new level.

And so, here I am climbing the steps as silently as I could wearing only the frayed bottoms of a old set of pajamas. By this late at night Alison is usually asleep, but if she is up late finishing a paper or studying for a test I don't want her to know that I am creeping about like a … well, like the predator I seem to be. At the top of the stairs I find all the lights off and the door to her bedroom closed. I slowly turn the knob and inch the door open listening for the 'click' of the bolt engaging so I could return to my room and put the matter to rest. It does not take long to find that this is not going to be that simple because, in spite of my warning, the door to her bedroom is unsecured and I am able to peek through the widening crack into the moonlit room.

The sight of her lying on the bed makes me groan softly. Now what am I going to do?

Her sheer nightgown might have hung to just above her knees had she been standing, but it had shifted up in her sleep so I could see most of her bare leg right up to the pale panties that covered her firm ass.

I could leave. I remind myself as the door opens even more. No one but me knows what I've done. I could shut the door as quietly as I opened it and go back to my room and jack-off like a teenager. The door 'clicks' softly as it closes, but I am on the wrong side of it moving ever closer to where Alison is stretched out like an offering to the ancient gods. She wants this, I remind myself as I sit carefully beside her on the bed. She told me that I was the instrument of God's justice. I'm not sure that this is what she had in mind, but I'm not sure it isn't either. My hand traces along the smooth skin of her thigh pushing the nightgown even higher on her hip until Alison's eyes open slowly. I love the way her eyes widen when she first realizes that there is someone on the bed with her.

“What?” Any hope I have of a gentle joining on the bed are dashed when she kicks at me and hisses angrily “Mr. P, get out of here!”

“I'm here to collect what you owe me.” I remind her when I get a hold of her kicking legs. “You really should have locked your door, Angel. It's not safe to let nasty men creep into your room while you sleep.”

“Get away from me, Mr. P.” Her eyes are wide with fear and possible excitement, but she is clearly not going to just let me have her without a fight. She's quite strong for a woman, but I outweigh her by close to 60 pounds, and although not in great overall shape, my arms and hands are strong from years of doing handywork around my old house. It doesn't take long to have her pinned under me with her hands pressed to the bed. When she realizes that she can't win a contest of strength she changes her tactics to one I'm familiar with from years of teaching. Her body softens, and tears form in the corners of her beautiful eyes, she looks particularly **** and innocent as she begs me to stop.

“Please, Mr. P, you can't do this - oh!” There is a soft gasp as I take advantage of this change in tactics to work my other leg between hers so that I am resting my hips between her splayed thighs. “You can't **** me!” She should be able to tell from the hard length that is pinned against her belly that I could indeed follow through with what I started, but just to make her situation perfectly clear I let her know that that is exactly what I intend to do.

“You are a sinner, Angel.” I growl as she squirms under me. I wonder if she is intentionally rubbing her tits against my bare chest or if that is an unintentional side effect of her struggles. “Not only are you way behind on what you owe me, but you also fornicated with a man under my roof. I'm going to punish your slutty body the only way that I know how.” Again she bucks and twists under me but I am ready for her struggles and let her tire herself out with the futile attempt.

“Don't do this, please, I swear I'll get you the money.” By now real tears are streaming down her cheeks and I almost believe her, but things have gone too far to stop now.

“It's too late for that, Alison. You yourself told me that God chose me to punish you; well, this is just the first step in my discipline of your wicked body.” She doesn't say anything, but I almost see a nod of submission and when I shift my grip so I am holding both her slender wrists with one hand she is not fighting as much as before. “The punishment has to fit the transgression, and your sin is one of weakness of the flesh.” With my free hand I pull up her night gown exposing the tits I've been dying to see since the first morning she sauntered into my kitchen wearing one of those tight tops of hers. Her small nipples are puckered into tight buds and she whimpers sweetly when I roll one of them between my finger and thumb. “Your punishment must be along the same lines.”

“No...please, stop … you have to stop.” Her eyes are closed now as she twists her head from side to side. “I never meant to be a harlot … I couldn't help it...” Her whole body is starting to rock against mine in a decidedly sexual rhythm, and I am finally beginning to believe this really is what this poor messed up preacher's daughter needs from me.