Leigh checked the address on the envelope; the neighborhood was seedier than she had anticipated.

"You're sure this is where you want to be, lady?" the cab driver asked.

Leigh bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced back at the cab. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked.

“Let me see dat…” the driver said, with the accent she had always expected a cab driver in New York to have. 

“Yeah, dis is what it says!” he said, after studying it for a moment.  “What kinda biz-ness you got here, anyway?  You a hooker?”

Outraged, Leigh yanked the envelope back out of his hand. 

“I am NOT a hooker.  I’m here to…” she paused.  She thought it would sound silly if she told the truth. 

“I’m here to meet someone,” she finished.  It was close to the truth.

“I could take you home to my place…maybe we could, ya know, meet,” he continued, with a leering grin. 

“Shut UP and leave me alone, creep,” Leigh yelled, as she walked away from the cab. 

The cab driver watched her walk from behind, paying special attention to her nicely rounded backside, encased in blue jeans.  He wondered if she even knew where she was going; she seemed to be intent on just walking away from him. 

“Eh, well,” he grumbled to himself, as he raised the passenger side window, “plenty-a hookers downtown, where I’m not likely to get stabbed by a pimp when I don’t pay…heheh….”

He drove off, looking for his next fare, as Leigh walked down the sidewalk, looking for the house with the numbers that matched the envelope.

“What am I thinking?” she thought, as she walked down the sidewalk of, well, somewhere in the Bronx.  She had left her home in Texas two days ago, naively assuming that she had but to get to New York, find a cab, and ask him to find the address on the envelope.  It hadn’t been quite that easy, but four cab rides later, she had finally made it to the correct area, she hoped.  It would be a long walk in the piercing cold if she didn’t find the house soon.

Finally she had reached the house.  The damn cabbie had dropped her almost a block away, claiming the houses in this area weren’t marked well enough to find a particular house; that would be up to her. 

The house, to its credit, was a bit nicer then the ones around it.  It was a faded pink color, small, with the curtains closed tight on the windows facing the road.  To Leigh’s annoyance, the house was well marked on a column that held the front porch.

He has to be expecting me, she thought.  Once more she checked her envelope, and once more it matched the house.  Slowly she walked up the cracked cement steps, avoiding the handrail as it looked as if it were barely supporting its own weight, and opened the screen door. 

She listened for a reaction inside, but heard only the television.  She knocked softly on the white wooden door.

The sounds from the television immediately ceased, and she could hear the creaking of footsteps on wood coming toward the door.  The footsteps paused, and she assumed that whoever was inside, hopefully the man she was supposed to meet, was glancing at her through the peep-hole in the door.  She pulled her leather jacket closer to protect against the cold. 

The door opened.  Inside the door frame stood a tall man, at least twenty years Leigh’s senior, with salt and pepper hair and beard.  For a moment he had a hard look in his brown eyes that made Leigh want to back away. Quickly, however, his eyes turned soft, he grinned, and she knew she had found him.  After 17 years of living with adopted parents, she had finally found her real father. 

He opened the door the rest of the way and beckoned her in out of the cold, saying, “You must be freezing out there.” 

She made her way into the house and looked around.  The inside of the small home was sparse; just the television, couch, and coffee table in the living room where she now stood.  She saw a hallway to the right and could see directly into the bedroom across it.  She assumed that down the hallway would probably be another bedroom and the restroom.  Directly across the living room from the front door was the kitchen.  On the other side of the kitchen was the back door, and through the glass on the back door, Leah could see the back fence.  The tiny house was far different from the large two story house in which she’d grown up in Texas.

“Have a seat, Leah,” he said.  She turned swiftly too look at him, to see if he had caught his mistake, but he had already turned toward the kitchen area.  “I’ll go get you some hot tea.”

She watched him walk quickly into the kitchen and just out of sight. 

She assumed she must’ve heard him wrong.  Surely he knew her name?  Or maybe she was named after she'd been adopted?  So many questions to ask! 

As he was making the tea, she sat on the old, stained couch.  She was surprised at the lack of support, being used to the plush leather back home. On the old, unfinished coffee table, she spotted the television remote.  As she picked it up, she noticed that the back was held on by duct tape, causing her hands to become sticky. 

She decided to see what type of shows her real father watched.  It took a few attempts to get the 23” off brand television to power on, but eventually the worn remote did its job.

Leigh was shocked by what she saw.

A woman, maybe a bit older than Leigh, was on her knees on a bed, with her ass in the air and her face on the mattress, being sodomized by a man.  Her hands were tied to the bottom bedposts, and her knees were tied to the top ones, holding her in that position.  The camera had caught the anguished look on the girl’s face and the tears streaming down onto the bed.  Though not an expert on pornography, Leigh was fairly certain that the woman was not there by her own choosing.

Leigh, transfixed by the image on the television, did not notice as her host came out of the kitchen and realized what she had seen.  Her mouth was slightly agape and her eyes were wide in terror. 

“Shit,” the man said, under his breath. 

Hearing him curse, Leigh whipped her head around and saw him standing there, holding a teacup, and looking very angry. 

“I am SO sorry, Leah,” he said, composing himself, “the satellite company sometimes mixes my signal with the perverts next door.  I’m sorry if that scared you.  Look, let me show you.  Turn the television off and turn it back on, it usually resets.”

As Leigh looked back at the television and turned it off using the remote in her hand, the man quickly turned the VCR off using the remote that he had, thankfully, absent mindedly carried into the kitchen with him.  When she turned the television back on, the familiar sights and sounds of “The Price is Right” flooded the living room. 

Leigh, still shaken, but somewhat relieved, set the remote back on the table and looked to her father. 

“That was…disgusting!” she exclaimed, “am I safe being this close to their house?”

“Of course, dear,” the man said with an endearing smile, “Daddy will protect you…”

He sat down next to her on the couch and handed her the tea. 

Leigh appraised the cup, and though chipped, it looked to be clean.  The warmth of the tea was inviting, though it smelled strangely.  She assumed it was probably a less expensive tea then she was used to, and refused to allow herself to complain, lest she insult her father on the first day of meeting him. 

As Leigh took the first sip, she noticed that it also tasted oddly sweet for hot tea.  She unconsciously grimaced at this as she set the tea down on the table. 

The man scooted closer to Leigh and placed his hand on her leg.

Leigh jumped and turned to face him, but her reaction felt slow, as if she were somehow lagging behind the rest of the world. 

A throbbing sensation began in her head, and she looked back at the tea as if to blame it with a glance.  Then, however, she noticed that the man’s hand had moved from her leg to her left breast, tugging at the buttons on her shirt. 

Leigh attempted to bat them away, confused and disoriented, but ended up merely patting him on the arm.  It felt, to her, like forever before her head hit the shoulder of the couch as she fell sideways.  She did not, however, lose consciousness. 

The man roughly began pulling her bright yellow shirt at the buttons, popping some of them as he went, and using his other hand to reach in and grope her breasts within their bra.  Not expecting any kind of sexual encounter, Leigh’s underwear was a basic beige, no frills affair. 

He stood up and pulled her legs down so that she lay completely on the couch instead of slumped over as she was.  Leigh was aware of what was happening, and desperately wanted to prevent it, but was unable to respond, as if her limbs were just sleepy to move. 

The man, pulling Leigh up into a sitting position by her long blond hair, began yanking the jacket and shirt up over her head. 

Tears formed at her eyes from the pain in her head and a light moan could be heard escaping her lips, but still there was no physical reaction on her part.  After her top was off, the man fiddled with her belly button ring, mumbling something about her being a slut.  Leigh was too dazed to be offended.

Grasping a cup in each hand, the man pulled the bra apart at its center, causing her considerable, pale breasts to spill. 

Leigh desperately wanted to do something about this indignity but simply could not move.  Her mind was in a daze, as if it were floating somewhere else, yet still experiencing every touch.

Her shoes were viciously yanked from her feet without being unlaced as the man used one hand to hold her leg down, and the other to pull.  Her little socks were removed in similar fashion, and both were tossed to the floor on top of her shirt and jacket. 

Wasting no time, the man unbuttoned Leigh’s pants, and began ripping them down.  Her pants were tight and hugged her hips, so he had to reposition the blond three times lest he pull her off the couch by her jeans. 

Leigh knew where this was headed; how could she not?  She wanted to struggle, to cry out, to scream, to hit and kick this man, but all she could manage was a moan and a few more tears.  Her addled mind was finally beginning to sort out that something had been slipped into her tea, which was probably why it had tasted funny. 

Once her pants were off, her assailant threw them across the room. 

“Most good girls wear a nice dress to see their daddy,” he said, looking into her unfocusing brown eyes, knowing and enjoying the fact that he'd get no response, “but noooo, you had to wear jeans…I guess that’s what I get for trying for a Texas girl.  Still, you got some nice titties!”

He grabbed a breast in each hand and squeezed, causing waves of agony to rip through Leigh’s chest.  She moaned louder this time, and almost thought she had felt her arm move reflexively, if only slightly.  He slapped each breast fairly hard, satisfied to see red marks appear immediately on her sensitive flesh. 

The man then grabbed Leigh’s left arm, which was mostly buried in the crack of the couch, and began to turn her over.  Inside her mind and body, Leigh began to panic.  She was unsure why panic would begin to set in now, of all times, but something about being turned onto her belly in such a helpless state terrified her.  She still, however, had no use of her arms or legs. 

Once she was fully on her stomach, he let her left arm drop off the couch, which sat low enough that her hand bashed painfully against the cold, wood floor. 

The man smashed her face into the crack between the sofa back and bottom cushions.  She could smell cigarette smoke in the couch, a scent she had always detested. 

Then she felt her panties being pulled down.  They came off much easier then her pants had, and soon she was nude.  The old house was very drafty; Leigh began shivering despite her paralysis. 

She felt a large, calloused finger get shoved between her legs, toward her vagina.  Her left leg was pulled off the couch to make it easier on him, and he had to push hard as the blond was completely dry. 

He shoved his fat finger straight into her cunt, causing her to moan yet again.  Slowly he finger raped her, listening to the little noises she was able to make. 

It felt, to Leigh, as if someone were rapidly rubbing sandpaper on her most sensitive parts.  She was sure he had his entire fist in her tiny hole.

Slowly her body began supplying its own lubrication, as was natural.  Leigh was confused; she certainly wasn't turned on, so how was she getting wet?

The man, much more experienced with womens' reactions to forced intercourse, knew that it was just her body reacting as most did.  Still, he could only imagine the humiliation she must be feeling, thinking that a part of her was enjoying this. 

Then he added another finger, barely squeezing them into her sensitive parts.  Not a virgin, but not at all experienced, Leigh had never experienced such feelings.  The pain and humiliation were intense, yet she could not move to do anything about it. 

Screwing her with two fingers, he began to speed up, and could actually feel the warmth being generated.  On a whim he attempted to cram in a third pudgy finger, but was unable to fit them all into her tight hole.  He pushed, and grunted, causing her considerable agony, but it just wouldn’t go in. 

“Wow!” he exclaimed, “I’ve never had a girl as tight as you!  This will be fun!  Wait until you meet Jack!”

Leigh continued to cry and attempt to will her body to move, but had no success. 

“Alright missy,” the man said, “let's get you set up for business.”

Business?  What sort of business?  He wasn't just going to rape her?  Leigh was screaming in her mind, but of course no one heard.

The man picked her up and slung her over his shoulder with disturbing efficiency, painfully knocking the breath from her lungs and pointing her ass straight up in the air. 

He carried her down the hallway to the room she had not been able to see, though it wouldn't have mattered as the door was shut.  Not that Leigh could see even that much, her current view restricted to the man's ass. 

She heard the door open, and he carried her to the middle of the room where there was a small twin sized bed with no headboard or posts.  Just frame and thin mattress.

Leaning forward, he dropped her head first onto the hard bed, flipped her over onto her face, pulled her legs to the bottom of the bed so that she lay straight, then grabbed her hands, dragging her up so that she was centered. 

The bed was utterly featureless with the exception of multiple stains, some faded red, on the otherwise clean linens. 

Leaving her there, he obtained his large rolling tool box from across the room.

Again, Leigh desperately tried to will her muscles to respond, and though she felt her extremities twitch a few times, it was far from enough to allow her to attempt an escape.

The man climbed atop the incapacitated young woman and crossed her wrists at the small of her back.  Using a rough piece of rope that had seen this same duty many times, he tightly bound her wrists together.  He then completely encased her hands from fingertips all the way up to the ropes on her wrists, then back down again with duct tape, leaving a double layer between her immobile fingers and the outside world.  As a final measure, he slipped a leather belt under her belly and wrapped it around her lower arms, pulling it tight enough to compress her stomach. 

Digging in the box, he produced a collapsed, adjustable spreader bar with metal cuffs at either end.  After securing her ankles, he pulled the spreader apart to its full length, putting both of her feet off the bed on either side. 

He grabbed yet another rope and wrapped it around her throat, knotting it so that it would both tighten and loosen easily. 

Choking was fun; killing cut into profit margins. 

The other end of the rope was tied to the frame at the head of the bed. 

He flipped her over onto her back, satisfied that, although she was slowly, sluggishly beginning to move about, the drug had done its job.  He congratulated himself on using just the right amount.  The stuff was expensive!

Pulling forward on her jaw, forcing her limp mouth to open, he inserted an adjustable dental gag.  The strap was pulled over her head and tightened enough that the gag put pressure on the corners of her mouth.  He then adjusted the gag down to its minimum opening so as not to dislocate her jaw.  This one had a small mouth; he'd have to be sure to warn some of the “larger” men. 

An enclosed hook clip attached to a small hand held winch, which was itself secured to the frame of the bed, was snapped onto the spreader bar.  The man tightened the winch until her head turned just a tiny bit as the rope around her neck pulled tight.

She made a little choking noise and her tongue flicked in her open mouth, but the rope wasn't seriously indenting her flesh so she'd be fine.

The winch could be tightened, keeping the victim fairly motionless lest she choke herself, or loosened, giving her more wiggle room, which some customers enjoyed. 

Even if the winch were completely removed, which sometimes happened, she'd still have a rope around her throat, her hands bound behind her back with no use of her fingers, and her feet stretched apart well past the point of being able to use them to walk.

He inserted a catheter tube, which ran down to a large, empty container that laid under the bed, into Leigh's urethra.  Though he was very experienced at this, the fact that he used no lube made the process quite painful for the woman, causing her to moan loudly, another sign the drug was wearing off. 

Leigh's face and neck turned red with embarrassment as her urine began to flow, now out of her control.

Once the tube was fully inserted, he began inflating the balloon inside the girl using a syringe of tap water. 

To be sure it was inflated enough, he simply kept filling until the pitch of Leigh's moans changed.  He'd learned it was pretty easy to tell when it was pushing on things in there.  A little squeak from the girl told him he'd filled it plenty.

Finally, a large rectal tube, which he did lube, was pushed about three inches into her anus.  He had to rotate and push the tube while pulling her butt cheek hard to one side in order to get it in, so tight was her ass, but this was nothing unusual for him.  Very few women this age had loose asses, and those who did were probably carrying something nasty.

Having never had anything go into that hole, Leigh was not at all comfortable, and though the effects of the drug were diminishing, she was now incapable of moving due to her bondage. 

“Okay Leah,” the man said, standing after checking to be sure neither tube was likely to slip out on its own, “your first customer will be here in a few hours, and it'll be nonstop for at least four or five hours after that.  This is a short night as I couldn't be sure you'd show, but it'll probably feel like a lot to you.  Might want to try to sleep until they start showing up.”

He noticed that she'd slowly turned her head toward him as he talked.  Obviously he'd finished just in time; the model of efficiency.

He then turned off the light, plunging Leigh into near darkness.  Though the window was boarded up tightly, some light managed to get through the cracks.  There was also the light coming from the other room.

“Oh,” the man said, just before the door was completely shut with him on the other side, “just wanted to let you know, in case you were dumb enough think any of this was legit, I'm not your daddy.  You can call me Frank, though don't expect to be speaking any time soon.  Sleep good!”

With that, he closed the door, laughing at his own bad joke as always did.