Message-ID: <18233eli$9812240430@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tmquin@ibm.net (Thomas M Quin) Subject: {ASS} SSK: The Partners Prolog (NC, B&D, M/F) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.bondage Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: MrTrick66@_NS_aol.com Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <3680df86.348296345@news3.ibm.net> ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. The author explicitly prohibits. 1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form. 2) The use of this story in a larger work without his express permission. 3) The use of this story on any CD, BBS or Website without the written permission of the author. This work is copyright MrTrick66@aol.com 1998. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. MrTrick66@aol.com ***************************************************************** The Partners by Rob =================== Prologue ======== Mitch climbed up the four wooden, creaky steps leading to the front porch of his seventy-five year old Cape Cod cottage which was set quite a way back from the single lane road which led to Mitch's property. Working in a downtown law firm as he did, Mitch regarded it as quite a coup when the two acre lot with the handyman special cottage in the country came on the market. Granted, it was some thirty miles or so from the downtown law office where Mitch worked, but if he left early enough, he could usually beat the early morning rush hour traffic. It was a small house, nothing luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, just a single story home with an eat-in kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, one bathroom and an unfinished basement. One day, he would fix it up, but for now it sufficed as a refuge from the city where he spent most of his time during the week and on the occasional weekend. Besides, he didn't buy it for the house; he bought it because it was affordable and tucked away in the woods where he could enjoy the peaceful clean air. The house gave him the best of both worlds. It was nice and secluded, but convenient for his daily commute since the expressway, which led to the city in one direction and to New England in the other, was only five miles away. On the downside, since the town had zoning laws that required all property lots to be at least two acres, he rarely saw his neighbors so he was occasionally lonely. It was early Saturday morning and Mitch had just biked roughly ten miles, a lot more than he was used to riding, but it was worth it. He breathed deep as he peddled from the mall ten miles away back to his sleepy little cottage in the woods. As he unlocked the door to his home with a key that hung from a chain draped around his neck, Mitch gave a backward glance to his bicycle, which was propped against the wooden railing on the left side of the porch. No need to lock it up or put it back in the detached garage behind the cottage. This was the country and crime here was minuscule. Besides, even if he was worried about theft, which he wasn't, the house was set so far from the road that no one could see the small cottage let alone the racing bike that was left out front. As he entered the living room of his home, he wiped the sweat from his brow. The bike ride had been longer than usual and took him up many more hills than his normal weekend riding routine. Still, he was satisfied with the morning's accomplishment because, he admitted to himself, not only was the ten mile trek pretty impressive, but, after a quick shower, the efforts of his unplanned labor would be rewarded. It was a holiday weekend so he had three days away from the office to just relax and enjoy his country home. He closed the door behind him and shouted across the living room in the direction of the bedroom. "Hey, Wendy. I'm back. The bike ride took longer than I thought but I'm finally back. Everything okay while I was gone?" Silence. "You all right, honey?" he asked again. Receiving no reply, he walked across the living room and opened the door to the master bedroom. There on the bed, scantily clad only in sky blue bikini panties, was a thin girl with brownish blonde hair worn in a chignon. Thegirl was face down on Mitch's bed, her ankles tied tightly with white nylon cord to her thighs with each of her hands tied in turn to the opposite ankle. She was face down with her backside in the air and as Mitch entered the room, she looked up at him and he saw that the black handball he had packed in her mouth was still in place, held there by some white surgical tape from Mitch's first aid kit. She looked at him with pleading blue eyes, eyes that betrayed a hint of anger. "Oh, I'm sorry, Wendy," he laughed. "I forgot. You're all tied and gagged. Well," he said with a trace of sarcasm. "If everything's not all right now, I'm sure it will be as soon as I take my shower. See you in a few." ************************************************************************** To send E-mail to the Author please remove the _NS_ from the return address. This story was brought to you by the SSK. 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