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Luckless Landlord by Throne (21 Pages)
🕑 Added 2021-10-27 19:24:19 +0000 UTCLUCKLESS LANDLORD
by Throne
© 2019-2025 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
***DEVIN DICKIE NOTE***
All characters are OVER 18 years of AGE! This is a bullying fantasy and not real. The acts in the following written work are only consensual sexual choices and fantasy humiliation scenarios.
Bullying is NOT OKAY and If you or someone you know is being bullied, please
alert the authorities.
LUCKLESS LANDLORD
by Throne
It should have been a perfect plan. I would buy a rundown apartment building in the inner city. After paying almost nothing for it, I could raise the rents and apply charges for all sorts of practically nonexistent services. The residents didn't have a lot to begin with, but I had learned ways to squeeze as much as possible from tenants. The purchase would put me into debt, but the exorbitant prices I charged would keep me solvent. What could possibly go wrong?
I decided to introduce myself to the residents, present myself as a benevolent landlord, and then do the rest of my business with them remotely. It wasn't that I intended to make a good impression on them. That was something I couldn't care less about. My real interest was to gauge their ability to pay and look for possible ways to make even more money than anticipated. I might find some additional profits.
The place had three stories. Going through the first two, I didn't have much trouble. A lot of the residents were stay-at-home types, for various reasons. There weren't too many added opportunities that I could see, though I did have thoughts about applying for government money, as if I would use it to make their living conditions better, and then pocket it. I covered most of the third floor, except for one apartment that had its door painted red, with a black X on it. If someone was running a business in there, I could definitely threaten to tell the authorities, unless they wanted to make a small cash contribution to me every month.
Long story short, everything went well for the first three months. Then I got busted, big time. It turned out that I hadn't been
nearly as smart as I thought. Now I had a building full of angry residents, all of who I was obligated to pay back various amounts of money to, via them deducting it from future rent payments. The only way I could avoid financial collapse and losing everything, was to move into the building myself. At least, because I had driven out one tenant, there was a recently vacated unit on the third floor, directly across from the only one I hadn't gotten into before.
It wasn't any fun, residing there, where every single person had grievances against me. I spent a lot of time inside my place. Then, one day, I opened the door and saw someone standing in front of the mysterious red door, the one with the X on it. He was a well-dressed white man, carrying a briefcase. My first though was that he might be some sort of official, who was seeking me for some legal matter, but had gone to the wrong apartment. Just as I was about to quietly shut my door and pretend that I wasn't there, the dark door across the hall was opened. I caught a glimpse of a tall, full-figured Black woman. She had on some sort of corset, with a top so small that her big boobs were almost spilling out of it. Her hair was extremely short and there were oversized hoop earrings swinging on either side of her head. I also noticed that she wore too much make-up, including white eye shadow, and all
of it quite dramatic. The man slipped inside. The woman locked eyes with me for a few seconds, her expression inscrutable, and then she was gone. I retreated, the wheels in my mind spinning. She must be some kind of hooker. And that guy could obviously afford to pay top dollar. It appeared that I had a cash cow, just waiting to be milked, after all.
After about an hour, I heard their door again. Taking a peek, I saw the man in the three-piece suit leaving. He was flushed and his clothes were disarranged. So, yes, I told myself, they were turning tricks in my building. Once the guy was gone, I stepped up to their entrance and knocked hard, putting lots of authority behind it. The woman I'd seen before opened the door. She was still in that revealing outfit. I saw that she also wore fishnet stockings and knee-length boots that laced up the front, ones with thick heels. I was so taken aback that, for a moment, I couldn't speak. Then I found my voice and told her, in the fewest words possible, that I knew what was going on and expected to see some money out of it.
"And I'll expect it to be cash," I concluded.
Instead of being shaken up, she just smiled and said, "Sure. Come on in and we can talk about how much you want."
I entered and received a pair of shocks. The first was that there were kinky sex toys, along with some instruments of discipline, visible around the front room. I saw a leather hood, two vibrators, handcuffs, a leather paddle, and a riding crop, along with other things that I couldn't immediately identify. The second surprise was that the woman was not alone. There was another, who had the same generous curves, but was wearing only a thong and a leather vest, along with tall, blood-red boots. The two of them converged on me.
"So," said the first one. "What's your name, boy?" "My name is Tom Thurston. Mister Thurston to you."
She laughed. "No. Your' name is Mr. Tongue, cause that's the part of you that's going to get damn familiar with us."
"Now listen here..." was all I got to say.
Suddenly, the two of them were on me like a pair of harpies. I was roughed up, my arms were pulled behind me, and cuffs were snapped onto my wrists. Then I was knocked over. It hurt when I landed on my pinioned arms. The women undid my pants and pulled them, along with my shorts, down to my ankles. The sudden reversal of advantages left me stunned and speechless.
The first woman said, "My name is Libya, and my friend there is Afro-D, but you can just call her Afro."
The second one's name kind of fit, because her hair was about three inches long and worn natural. I looked up at them, looming over me. They didn't appear at all concerned about anything I might do. Libya put the sole of her boot on my crotch.
She said, "I don't like having your dick on display like that, Mr. Tongue. It needs to be covered up."
Finding my voice, I told her, "Now listen to me..."
"No," she said, "you going to do the listening."
Libya applied pressure with the foot between my legs. There was crushing pain in my balls. I gasped and tried to catch my breath. I looked at her threateningly, but she just leaned harder on my genitals.
Gagging from agony, I choked out two syllables. "O. K."
She told her companion, "Get me that cage, babe. The one that was too small to use on Mr. Briefcase."
Afro laughed. "You got it, sister."
She left the room and returned quickly, with something in her hand. Libya jammed her foot down, then moved it away. I was incapacitated by pain. The women got onto their knees. I felt them doing something to my male parts. When they were done, the two of them grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet. They dragged me along to the bedroom. I had to shuffle because of the clothes around my ankles, that hampered my stride. We stopped
in front of a full-length mirror. My mouth dropped open. Covering my cock there was some sort of device, that compressed the organ to almost nothing. I could feel something circling my scrotum, presumably to hold the front part in place. I saw a barrel lock where the two portions met, above the root of my penis.
"There you go," Libya declared. "All locked up, safe and sound, so your dingus can't get you into no trouble. Don't you want to thank me?"
All at once, I was furious with them. I blurted out. "You bitch. Take that thing off me, this instant."
She slapped my face, left side and right. Then she grabbed me by the throat.
"Shut the hell up, punk. If you ever want to get unlocked, you better learn some manners, and I mean right away. That chastity stays on until I say different. It could be a long time before you can so much as get hard. Understand?"
"But you can't do that," I told her, sounding a lot less sure of myself than before.
SLAP! SLAP!
"Who says I can't? You? Would it help you think clearer, if I shoved your head in our toilet and flushed it a few times? Hmmm?"
"I..." The enormity of my situation struck me. "No. You don't have to do that. We can talk. Let me make some suggestions."
They turned me around, walked me to a bedroom, and pushed me onto the bed, face down, so that I was lying side-to-side, rather than top-to-bottom.
It was Afro's turn to make a request. She asked Libya, "Can you go fetch me that long cane, with the leather-covered handle?"
"The one that scares guys so much?" She chortled. "You got it, girl."
All too soon, she was back and handed the slender length to her
friend. Afro swished it through the air a few times. I wanted to try getting to my feet, but saw the futility of that. It wouldn't help me to get them angry again. I lay there, trying to think of some negotiating point that would work in my favor. Before I could get very far, the cane whisked again, but this time it landed across both of my exposed buttocks. A line of pain was ignited across my bottom and, in spite of myself, I yowled loudly. Afro handed the whipping instrument to Libya, then got out of her thong. Before I fully knew what she intended, she was cramming the piece of clothing into my mouth. I smelled her feminine musk and tasted vaginal secretions. It couldn't dislodge it and had to breathe through my nose. Afro took back the cane and lightly tapped the bridge of my nose several times, as if to demonstrate that she could do whatever she pleased to me.
"Now," she decided, "I think you've earned about two dozen strokes. That's not counting the free sample I just gave you. Do
you think that's a good number?" I frantically shook my head. "No? Then I'll make it three dozen. Is that better?"
I almost repeated my mistake of a moment before, but caught myself in time, and nodded vigorously. Afro lowered the cane to her target and tapped it against my burning buns, as if getting her range. Then, without further warning, she whipped it up and slashed it across my rear end a half dozen times, making me jerk around and tug uselessly at my cuffs. When she halted, I could only lay there with breath hissing in and out of my nostrils. Her thong was getting saturated with my saliva. My eyes watered. The pain in my backside penetrated deeper.
"We don't want to be mean," Afro announced. "So, I'll take this nice and slow. Isn't that kind of me, Mr. Tongue?"
No, dragging out my ordeal was not kind. Still, I was learning their twisted rules. I nodded. She responded by raising the cane, holding it aloft while my anxiety mounted, and then flashing it down twice, for a pair of punishing strokes. She paused again, while my dread built up. Two more blows fell. There was another wait. Then two more landed. My entire bottom was on fire.
"You know," Libya said, "those marks look like they hurt a lot. Why don't you give our landlord a break, and aim a few somewhere else?"
"Good idea. How about the backs of his thighs?"
"Sounds about right. Of course, there's less padding there. I guess you'll just have to try it and find out."
"We'll never know unless we try it. Six on the tops of his legs."
Taking her time, Afro placed two in a row across the tender area. The lesser amount of fatty tissue made it hurt so much more than it had on my ass. I wailed into the gag and twitched violently, each time she hit me. It was the same with the next two double sets. They discussed it briefly and decided to return to abusing my bottom. Afro laid the rest of the blows on top of what she had done earlier, not hurrying, and going on until I was a trembling wreck.
Together they dragged me off the bed and got me on my knees, with my head down. Afro stepped close, so that her boots were directly in front of my face.
"Time to thank me," she said. Libya took the gag out of my mouth. Afro went on, "You can start by kissing my boots. Get to it, Mr. Tongue."
With the threat of more beating hanging over me, I puckered up and planted a kiss on her toe area. I smelled and tasted leather. When she didn't tell me to stop, I did the safe thing and kept kissing. I looked up. The two BBWs were still waiting, so I moved on to the other boot, starting at the toe and going as high as I could, pressing my lips against the crisscrossed laces. The women chuckled at my abject submission. They hoisted me to my feet and sat me on a wooden chair, which reignited the flames in my rump. Between them, they got off my shoes and socks, and then the pants and shorts. Naked from the waist down, I was led to the kitchen, where Afro pulled out a chair for me. Before I could sit, however, Libya took a drying rack from the sink, flipped it over, and set it on my seat. When they made me sit, my tormented flesh was squeezed between the close-set bars of the rack, causing
me a new and different type of suffering. Though I tried not to, I couldn't keep myself from whimpering.
"So," Libya declared, as she got herself onto my lap, facing me. "You wanted to talk about how much money it would take to keep you on our side." Her considerable weight pressed down, driving me more firmly into the rack. "How about fifty bucks a week, for starters?"
Afro said, "I'll get your wallet out of them pants, and we can see if you're able to cover the first payment right away."
"You mean... me... giving money to you?"
"Damn right," Libya said. "Unless you want me to accidently-on-purpose lose the key to that cock lock you're wearing. Those things are damn sturdy. Even if you have the nerve to take your pecker-prison to a locksmith, he might not be able to get it off you."
"Especially if we put some super-type glue in the lock, so he can't fuss with it. Make the deal permanent."
"What? NO! You can't." Their glowering expressions told me I was overstepping my boundaries again. I told them, "Sure. That's fair. I mean, after I tried to give you a hard time."
"See," Afro said. "You're starting to catch on. Course, we'll want you to get something for your money. So, when we don't have any of our regulars here, we'll work you into the schedule."
Libya picked up her thought and went on, "I figure three times a week should be good... for a start. Of course, we're giving you the Good Neighbor Discount. Ain't nobody gets that much of our special attention for so little money. We might have to ask you to do some housework for us, to make it fair to us."
"I..." The words didn't want to come. "That's reasonable," I lied. "It certainly is."
"You know," Libya considered, "your words say one thing, but the way you say them tells me something different." To her partner she said, "I think he needs to meet Ms. Ebony."
"Yeah," Afro agreed, as if I wasn't right there, listening to them. "Might be the best thing for the boy. Keep him on the right path for a while, so he don't get his-self into trouble with his stupid mouth."
"Truth. We got better things for him to do with his lips and his Mr. Tongue. He got to earn that new name."
They hustled me back through their apartment and onto the bed once more. I was again on my belly, but this time lying lengthwise on the mattress. Both of them stripped. I was confronted with their exaggerated curves, all that chocolate-colored skin, so enticingly contoured. Libya piled up the pillows against the tall headboard. She sat there and leaned back. Afro went into the dresser and found an artificial cock, a black one about eight inches long, with straps dangling from it.
As she began to attach them around her waist, she explained, "This is Ms. Ebony, who you got to get acquainted with, Mr. Tongue."
"Let's not be too formal," Libya advised. "Us all friends here. We can just call him Tongue." She grabbed my hair and pulled me forward, until my head was between her heavy thighs.
Afro finished with the harness. That fake cock stuck out proudly from her wide hips. She got on the bed behind my defenseless bottom, and took a tube of something from the bedside table.
"I'm going to be a sweetheart, and use some lube. Get your knees up under you, Tongue."
With no other choice, I did as I was told. Libya gripped my ears to bring me even nearer to her, so that my face practically against her crotch. My field of vision was filled by her rippled pink nether lips. The scent of her pussy, so strong and tangy, assailed me.
She parted her labia with her fingers and said, "Dinnertime, Tongue. Take a taste."
I was expected to perform cunnilingus on her even though, down there, she was sweaty and smelled offensive. The end of the rubber phallus, slick with lubricant, bumped against my tight backdoor ring. This couldn't really be happening. Afro pushed harder from behind, driving my mouth against Libya's moist slit. In desperation, I began to lick. That didn't stop Afro from burying the head of the dildo inside me. I hollered against Libya's pubes but had the good sense to keep my tongue moving. Afro went deeper, causing me plenty of discomfort. My caned bottom was subjected to an anal invasion. I whimpered and lapped and, after being instructed to, sucked Libya's rather large clitoris. Afro began to pump vigorously. From the way she purred, I gathered that the strap-on dildo was designed to give her pleasure while causing me so much discomfort.
My ordeal went on and on. Libya produced heavy secretions, which I had to slurp up and swallow. Afro changed her rhythm and angle several times, making sure she attacked me in multiple ways. In the end, I heard the big woman behind me huffing and
puffing, on the verge of a climax. Her excitement must have elevated Libya's libido, because her pussy began to put out even more juice. I was lapping it up as fast as i could, but still getting it on my nose and chin, when the two heavy females exploded into orgasms at the same time. I felt totally possessed by them, and utterly under their control. When they settled back down, I knew that something inside me had been changed, probably forever. Besides that, I was still trapped in that undersized chastity device, which guaranteed that I couldn't achieve an erection, let alone have an ejaculation. I had to wonder how having my sex drive regulated that way would affect my mind. Could all of my erotic energy be redirected into satisfying and surrendering to the pair of tall curvaceous Black women? What would be left of the old me in a week, a month, or longer?
No matter what I did, I was going to find out. An inner voice warned me that I had a long way down, still to go.
Comments
Sissy Vicky Pussy Mouth
Yes, more landlord stories please
