maryallison
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2006
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My apartment has a policy: no visitors after midnight. It's a silly rule, and people break it all the time, I suppose. Who would really go around that late to see if people were sneaking in? But there it was, written at the bottom of every notice we got at the end of each month. No Visitors after Midnight.
I hardly ever thought of it, until I paid the penalty.
I had worked late one night recently, getting caught up on the office files. It was eight o'clock before I got to the train station, and almost 9 when it pulled up at my stop. It was snowing, too, the first snowfall of the season, so I shivered for twenty minutes on the walk to my apartment. By the time I got home I was ready for a hot shower; I didn't bother with dinner. I took off my clothes and lingered in my personal sauna, letting it wash away every snowflake and lingering hint of cold. I toweled off and put on my blue flannel bathrobe, then went to the kitchen: a ham sandwich, some clam chowder, a banana. I plopped on the couch and turned on the TV just before falling into a nap.
When I woke up, the David Letterman Show was on. He was just beginning his usual bit, and tonight it was Top Ten Signs You Have a Bad Mailman. While I laughed at the listing it occurred to me I had not stopped at my own mailbox, just inside the building's back door. I thought a few minutes about whether I should put on some clothes, and by the time Dave's first guest came on (an actor who was in that ridiculous movie about talking airplanes) I knew I wouldn't be missing anything. As I went to my room I also thought of the time. Why bother changing?
I grabbed the mailbox key from the hook by the light switch, and gently opened my front door. No one was there, so I walked down the hallway to the stairs and went a flight down. Twenty silver mail slots stood together, like safe deposit boxes. As I opened my own, a couple came in through the glass door. The wind and snow followed them, and seemed to enjoy finding my bare legs and feet. As the couple went up stairs, the woman whispered to her companion, "She saw you." What did I care? I pulled out my mail - three envelopes, a magazine, and a coupon circular from the local grocery chain. A breeze lingered, and kept the door half open as the hydraulic tube on top slowly pulled it shut. It was test of wills. I stepped closer to shut the door, but as I did so the mail fell out of my arms. I knelt to retrieve it, but that same mischievous wind must have been watching me, and it pulled the coupon circular out the door. Two pages escaped, and soon they floated away toward the parking area. I scooped up my envelopes and the magazine, and I know what you're thinking. I should have let the rest go. Yet I couldn't bear thinking of all ten or fifteen pages blowing away, littering the cars nearby. I could get them if I acted fast. I stepped closer and pulled up the circular, then took a step outside to reach the two pages, which seemed to move just as my hand had them. I took another step on that cold cement, and just as I got the last page I heard a terrible click behind me.
I turned to the door. I yanked at it, but it remained shut when it had been so indecisive a minute before. I tugged again, then knocked on the glass hoping someone would hear me. I waited a moment, then pounded on the door. There was a front door, on the other side of the steps. A woman walked in, but it was too far away from me to run around the building, so I pounded on the door to get her attention. She stopped, and frowned. I waved to her. She stepped closer, and saw me in my bare feet and bathrobe, but she merely smirked.
"Can't let you in. It's after midnight."
What? Was she crazy?
"Open the door," I said.
"Sorry."
I pounded on the glass but she merely walked up the steps and out of sight, so I went into the parking area and prayed that she lived in the back half of the building. In a minute a light went on at the far end. It had to be her. I tip toed across the snow, but soon started taking giant leaps like Neil Armstrong until I reached the large air conditioner that was just under her balcony. I stepped up on its metallic top, then put one foot on a protruding brick and scampered to the balcony itself. As I swung a leg over the railing a shiver went up my thighs, but i endured until I was safely on the balcony itself. I knocked on her apartment's sliding glass door. In a moment the curtain opened and she stared at me.
"Let me in, please..." I put my hands together in supplication.
She pointed to her watch.
"It's after midnight."
"C'mon," I demanded. "It's freezing out here."
She hesitated, then let a grin appear.
"Take off the robe."
Now I knew she was crazy.
"No."
"Okay," she shrugged, and closed the curtain.
I knocked on the glass door again, and she held the curtain open a little less than before.
"Let me in," I fairly begged.
"It's after midnight."
I must have had a pathetic look on my face, so she opened the curtain another inch.
"Take off the belt," she said.
"I'm not taking off anyth --"
With that she let the curtain drop and I rapped against the glass. I had no choice. She waited a minute to let me think before she opened the curtain again.
I untied the belt and pulled it through each flannel loop, but kept my arms crossed as I displayed the belt for her, in submission.
She opened the door, but as soon as I stepped inside she took the belt in one arm and my wrist in another and pulled me into the apartment. I was so happy to be indoors, so delighted to have my feet against soft carpet, that I followed her across the living room and into the bathroom.
"Up," She said.
"What?"
She looked at the bathtub.
"Get up on the tub."
I did nothing, so she slapped my ass. When I did not move for a few seconds - probably less than one second - she took my wrist again.
"Fine. Out you go." She pulled me out of the bathroom but I resisted, and soon escaped from her grasp long enough to step back into the bathroom. She blocked my exit.
"UP."
I stepped on the side of the tub, and she turned me around to face her. She was taller than me, so we were the same height when I was on top of the tub. She wrapped the flannel belt around my wrists, then led them above my head and turned it around the shower curtain rod twice before tying the loose end at my wrist again. I pulled my elbows tight in a feeble effort to keep the robe closed.
I was her prisoner.
She walked out of the bathroom and I heard a rustling sound, like she was looking for something in a drawer, before she returned with a bottle of liquor and what looked like a turkey baster. "Huh?" I thought. A turkey baster? She poured some of the liquid into the plastic tube and turned to me.
"Whiskey will help you warm up."
She lifted the baster to my mouth, but when I paused she let a few drops hit my lips before dribbling the rest against my cheek and jaw. When she turned away some of the whiskey fell across my neck, and soon she brought the baster up again, but now she wickedly pointed the handle down. When she slowly squeezed the rubber end whiskey trickled onto my collarbone, then down between my breasts, and she waved the baster a inch or two in each direction so that a stream of Jack Daniels flowed over my nipples, which were still concealed by the robe.
My tormentor put the baster on the sink. She knelt at my feet, and traced one finger across my toes. I pushed my elbows as tight as I could. She brushed against the top of my feet, then my ankles, and I let out a sigh so soft I knew she couldn't hear it, but she stopped as if to enjoy the moment. Now she placed two fingers on each leg and started her ascent, twirling in patterns as she went higher, then down again and then up to a new, untouched spot. If she had finger paints my legs would be covered in a curving web. She added a third finger and a fourth when she passed my knees. She waited an instant, and soon the pinky joined in as she traced against my thighs, swirling back and forth, in and out, searching for whatever square centimeter had been neglected, then down to my feet again and up, up ever so slowly. I had to react. She had no pity. I opened my aching elbows and the robe shifted, then separated on its own authority until a sliver a bare skin was revealed from top to bottom. Her knuckles found the hem of my robe and gently pushed it farther apart, and soon her fingers flowed unopposed over my thighs, until she grazed across my hips. I was completely exposed to her now, helpless to go anywhere as the belt kept my arms firmly in place, above my head.
I could only look down, anticipating her next move, as her fingers raked across my tummy. I let out a gasp, and she returned like a farmer plowing a spring field, and I had to giggle. The bitch had me. I couldn't resist as she curled each finger faster and faster over my ribs, and my supplication was complete.
"AAhhhhahahaaahhaahahaaa..."
She continued the attack while each individual rib was found and plundered, and her hands reached behind my back and found new territory to conquer.
"staahh - staaahhhpp" I sputtered.
With each plea her fingers went faster, visiting their favorite spots as I quivered and begged. I had a few inches of bathtub beneath me, and my feet lifted so only my toes supported me, and my body leaned back to escape.
"Staaahhpp, Staa staa ttaahaappp" I pleaded.
And she did so.
She glanced up at me, then turned to the sink and found the bottle and turkey baster once again. As she poured, I dreaded what might happen next. She winked at me, then reached up and squeezed that sinister rubber end. The whiskey fell over my breasts, then down my ribs and belly button, trickling lower and lower to where my belt should have been.
Oh God..Oh God please.
She put the baster down, and I could only stare as she began to lick away the whiskey.
I hardly ever thought of it, until I paid the penalty.
I had worked late one night recently, getting caught up on the office files. It was eight o'clock before I got to the train station, and almost 9 when it pulled up at my stop. It was snowing, too, the first snowfall of the season, so I shivered for twenty minutes on the walk to my apartment. By the time I got home I was ready for a hot shower; I didn't bother with dinner. I took off my clothes and lingered in my personal sauna, letting it wash away every snowflake and lingering hint of cold. I toweled off and put on my blue flannel bathrobe, then went to the kitchen: a ham sandwich, some clam chowder, a banana. I plopped on the couch and turned on the TV just before falling into a nap.
When I woke up, the David Letterman Show was on. He was just beginning his usual bit, and tonight it was Top Ten Signs You Have a Bad Mailman. While I laughed at the listing it occurred to me I had not stopped at my own mailbox, just inside the building's back door. I thought a few minutes about whether I should put on some clothes, and by the time Dave's first guest came on (an actor who was in that ridiculous movie about talking airplanes) I knew I wouldn't be missing anything. As I went to my room I also thought of the time. Why bother changing?
I grabbed the mailbox key from the hook by the light switch, and gently opened my front door. No one was there, so I walked down the hallway to the stairs and went a flight down. Twenty silver mail slots stood together, like safe deposit boxes. As I opened my own, a couple came in through the glass door. The wind and snow followed them, and seemed to enjoy finding my bare legs and feet. As the couple went up stairs, the woman whispered to her companion, "She saw you." What did I care? I pulled out my mail - three envelopes, a magazine, and a coupon circular from the local grocery chain. A breeze lingered, and kept the door half open as the hydraulic tube on top slowly pulled it shut. It was test of wills. I stepped closer to shut the door, but as I did so the mail fell out of my arms. I knelt to retrieve it, but that same mischievous wind must have been watching me, and it pulled the coupon circular out the door. Two pages escaped, and soon they floated away toward the parking area. I scooped up my envelopes and the magazine, and I know what you're thinking. I should have let the rest go. Yet I couldn't bear thinking of all ten or fifteen pages blowing away, littering the cars nearby. I could get them if I acted fast. I stepped closer and pulled up the circular, then took a step outside to reach the two pages, which seemed to move just as my hand had them. I took another step on that cold cement, and just as I got the last page I heard a terrible click behind me.
I turned to the door. I yanked at it, but it remained shut when it had been so indecisive a minute before. I tugged again, then knocked on the glass hoping someone would hear me. I waited a moment, then pounded on the door. There was a front door, on the other side of the steps. A woman walked in, but it was too far away from me to run around the building, so I pounded on the door to get her attention. She stopped, and frowned. I waved to her. She stepped closer, and saw me in my bare feet and bathrobe, but she merely smirked.
"Can't let you in. It's after midnight."
What? Was she crazy?
"Open the door," I said.
"Sorry."
I pounded on the glass but she merely walked up the steps and out of sight, so I went into the parking area and prayed that she lived in the back half of the building. In a minute a light went on at the far end. It had to be her. I tip toed across the snow, but soon started taking giant leaps like Neil Armstrong until I reached the large air conditioner that was just under her balcony. I stepped up on its metallic top, then put one foot on a protruding brick and scampered to the balcony itself. As I swung a leg over the railing a shiver went up my thighs, but i endured until I was safely on the balcony itself. I knocked on her apartment's sliding glass door. In a moment the curtain opened and she stared at me.
"Let me in, please..." I put my hands together in supplication.
She pointed to her watch.
"It's after midnight."
"C'mon," I demanded. "It's freezing out here."
She hesitated, then let a grin appear.
"Take off the robe."
Now I knew she was crazy.
"No."
"Okay," she shrugged, and closed the curtain.
I knocked on the glass door again, and she held the curtain open a little less than before.
"Let me in," I fairly begged.
"It's after midnight."
I must have had a pathetic look on my face, so she opened the curtain another inch.
"Take off the belt," she said.
"I'm not taking off anyth --"
With that she let the curtain drop and I rapped against the glass. I had no choice. She waited a minute to let me think before she opened the curtain again.
I untied the belt and pulled it through each flannel loop, but kept my arms crossed as I displayed the belt for her, in submission.
She opened the door, but as soon as I stepped inside she took the belt in one arm and my wrist in another and pulled me into the apartment. I was so happy to be indoors, so delighted to have my feet against soft carpet, that I followed her across the living room and into the bathroom.
"Up," She said.
"What?"
She looked at the bathtub.
"Get up on the tub."
I did nothing, so she slapped my ass. When I did not move for a few seconds - probably less than one second - she took my wrist again.
"Fine. Out you go." She pulled me out of the bathroom but I resisted, and soon escaped from her grasp long enough to step back into the bathroom. She blocked my exit.
"UP."
I stepped on the side of the tub, and she turned me around to face her. She was taller than me, so we were the same height when I was on top of the tub. She wrapped the flannel belt around my wrists, then led them above my head and turned it around the shower curtain rod twice before tying the loose end at my wrist again. I pulled my elbows tight in a feeble effort to keep the robe closed.
I was her prisoner.
She walked out of the bathroom and I heard a rustling sound, like she was looking for something in a drawer, before she returned with a bottle of liquor and what looked like a turkey baster. "Huh?" I thought. A turkey baster? She poured some of the liquid into the plastic tube and turned to me.
"Whiskey will help you warm up."
She lifted the baster to my mouth, but when I paused she let a few drops hit my lips before dribbling the rest against my cheek and jaw. When she turned away some of the whiskey fell across my neck, and soon she brought the baster up again, but now she wickedly pointed the handle down. When she slowly squeezed the rubber end whiskey trickled onto my collarbone, then down between my breasts, and she waved the baster a inch or two in each direction so that a stream of Jack Daniels flowed over my nipples, which were still concealed by the robe.
My tormentor put the baster on the sink. She knelt at my feet, and traced one finger across my toes. I pushed my elbows as tight as I could. She brushed against the top of my feet, then my ankles, and I let out a sigh so soft I knew she couldn't hear it, but she stopped as if to enjoy the moment. Now she placed two fingers on each leg and started her ascent, twirling in patterns as she went higher, then down again and then up to a new, untouched spot. If she had finger paints my legs would be covered in a curving web. She added a third finger and a fourth when she passed my knees. She waited an instant, and soon the pinky joined in as she traced against my thighs, swirling back and forth, in and out, searching for whatever square centimeter had been neglected, then down to my feet again and up, up ever so slowly. I had to react. She had no pity. I opened my aching elbows and the robe shifted, then separated on its own authority until a sliver a bare skin was revealed from top to bottom. Her knuckles found the hem of my robe and gently pushed it farther apart, and soon her fingers flowed unopposed over my thighs, until she grazed across my hips. I was completely exposed to her now, helpless to go anywhere as the belt kept my arms firmly in place, above my head.
I could only look down, anticipating her next move, as her fingers raked across my tummy. I let out a gasp, and she returned like a farmer plowing a spring field, and I had to giggle. The bitch had me. I couldn't resist as she curled each finger faster and faster over my ribs, and my supplication was complete.
"AAhhhhahahaaahhaahahaaa..."
She continued the attack while each individual rib was found and plundered, and her hands reached behind my back and found new territory to conquer.
"staahh - staaahhhpp" I sputtered.
With each plea her fingers went faster, visiting their favorite spots as I quivered and begged. I had a few inches of bathtub beneath me, and my feet lifted so only my toes supported me, and my body leaned back to escape.
"Staaahhpp, Staa staa ttaahaappp" I pleaded.
And she did so.
She glanced up at me, then turned to the sink and found the bottle and turkey baster once again. As she poured, I dreaded what might happen next. She winked at me, then reached up and squeezed that sinister rubber end. The whiskey fell over my breasts, then down my ribs and belly button, trickling lower and lower to where my belt should have been.
Oh God..Oh God please.
She put the baster down, and I could only stare as she began to lick away the whiskey.
