Her Basement, by Rajah Dodger Copyright (c) 2001. All rights reserved, except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights only are explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain attached.
The animal in the basement was whimpering again.
My next-door neighbor kept some sort of animal, I thought perhaps a dog, in her basement. For the last month I would be awakened at odd hours by a whimpering sound coming from there. I hadn’t actually seen the dog, but then I worked during the day. I really intended to talk to her about the noise, but I’d never introduced myself and this didn’t seem to be the right way to do it.
Then my company got bought out by a foreign outfit, and we all found ourselves on a three-week unexpected paid vacation while they “reviewed options for local personnel”. I wasn’t too worried, since good database administrators with web experience are hard to come by. Still, I now found myself at loose ends at 8 in the morning instead of hitting the road with the rest of the work crowd.
I decided this made for a good opportunity, and so a little after 9:30 I found myself, neatly dressed in slacks and shirt, ringing the doorbell of my neighbor’s house. After a few minutes, as I was about to give up, the door opened and a rather attractive-looking matron dressed in a nondescript front-button housecoat, her hair done up in a neat bun, looked at me inquiringly. “Yes?” she asked.
I introduce myself, and her attitude became noticeably warmer. “Oh yes, of course. Well, I’m Helen; won’t you come in? I was just fixing tea, if you’ll have some.” I followed her in and took a look around the house. Nice, neatly decorated, nothing particularly striking about it. We wandered toward the back of the house and into the kitchen, where a tea kettle was whistling. She continued, “Aren’t you generally at work during the day? I’ve been here some time and your house is always so quiet.” I explained about my work situation, and since she had now mentioned the subject of quiet, I had my opportunity. I asked her about the pet in the basement.
There was an odd, strained silence, and an indecipherable look came across her face. “Pet? I don’t have any pets.”
I explained about the sounds I had heard during the night, and she shook her head. “The night air carries sounds a good distance; I’m sorry about your being awoken, but I really don’t know what you were hearing.” I think she could tell I wasn’t completely convinced, but I thanked her all the same for straightening me out.
We continued our tea and chatted about the neighborhood, city politics, how we came to be here. Somewhere between the second and third pot I learned that her husband had died some years back, so she had moved here to get away from the old memories. I sympathized as best as I could, having never gotten past the serious dating stage myself. That got my mind sidetracked, and I took a second look at her face, realizing that her eyes really were quite striking.
“… woolgathering?” I shook myself, realizing that I hadn’t been paying attention to what she was saying. “I’m sorry,” I replied, “something you said just sent my mind on a tangent.” She smiled accepting my apology, and repeated herself. “I was remarking that it’s really quite important to know one’s neighbors, even in the best of neighborhoods. Sometimes you need a hand around the house, and you never know just who the person next door will turn out to be.” I nodded at that; then put my hands up against my temples to steady my head.
“Is something wrong?” she asked with some concern.
I mumbled something about the tea being too strong, I thought. She offered to let me lie down on her couch if I needed, but I declined. “It’s okay, I’ve taken up so much of your morning already. I’ll just be toddling on back…” I tried standing up, and my headache got seriously worse. I stumbled, and she took my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “No, no I must insist,” she said overriding my objections. “You’re in no condition right now.” I followed her meekly to the drawing room, and she helped me lie back on the couch. “I’ll just leave the lights off, now, and you can come find me when you’re feeling better.”
I thanked her weakly, and let my eyes close. The room was pleasantly cool, and I heard her footsteps clicking faintly away…
I opened my eyes once, thinking I was hearing voices, but the room was blurry and it felt so much better just to lie back on the couch… Eventually I felt a hand on my cheek, and opened my eyes to see her face inspecting me, those large brown eyes focused on mine. “Are you feeling better now?” I sat up tentatively, and my head stayed fastened to my shoulders. “I think so.” I stood up, and everything seemed to be more or less normal. “Thank you,” I said with some embarrassment, “I don’t know quite what came over me. I must be coming down with something.” She shrugged her shoulders, and suggested that I might also have been sensitive to something in the herbal tea.
She led me to the front door, and shook my hand warmly as I took my leave. “Do drop in again,” she added with a smile, “it’s so nice to know someone who’s home during the day.” I thanked her again, and headed back to my own house, where I noticed with some surprise I’d spent the entire morning over there. I took two aspirin and took a long nap, waking late in the afternoon and feeling much better.
I went out to dinner that evening and caught a movie, and got a good night’s sleep, undisturbed by any sounds from my neighbor’s basement, or wherever they had been coming from.
*****
I spent the next day in the back yard, fixing the gutters and cleaning out some accumulated debris. At one point I thought I was being watched, but I looked around and decided I just wasn’t dealing well with not being at work. I did more shopping than usual, seeing no reason to blow my budget on eating out when I was just going to be home most of the day. I fixed a few casseroles and fried up some chicken breasts so I’d have something convenient whenever I got hungry, then celebrated by going out to dinner. Hey, I never claimed to be consistent.
About three in the morning I woke up, alert. The sounds were there again; vague, animal noises. I went to my window and opened it, listening. It still sounded like it was coming from her basement.
Coming to a decision, I got dressed in dark clothes and quietly went out my back door. Outside of the usual traffic noises, nothing was audible. I went around the side of my house to the front edge of the mutual fence, looked around to verify that nobody was around, and crept around the side of her house to the spot near her back patio where I could see the top of a window sunk into the ground. On closer inspection, I could tell it had been painted from the inside, but age had cracked the paint and there were faint traces of light coming through.
About that time I heard the sound again. It was definitely a whimpering, like a dog trying to get through a closed door. Up close, I could now hear something like a voice, although no words were distinguishable. Then there was silence again, and after a few minutes I decided discretion was calling for me to get back home. I turned at the edge of the fence, and looked at her house, but there was no sign of activity other than the faintest bit of illumination limning the basement window.
I lay awake, listening, for fifteen more minutes, but nothing else disturbed the night and I finally fell back to sleep.
*****
The next morning I got a phone call from Helen. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m having a problem with my cable, and I don’t want to call out the service unless I have to, they take so long. Would you by any chance know anything about it?” I told her that I wasn’t a cable TV specialist, but that I’d done my time tracing connection problems with computers and that I’d be glad to give it a look-see.
When her door opened and I saw Helen again, I took a step back in surprise. The drab housecoat in which she had first greeted me was gone; instead she was dressed in a well-cut silk blouse and a nicely contrasting suede skirt, one which demonstrated that she had legs to be proud of. She was still wearing her hair in that teacher-style bun, though. I pulled myself back together and took her proffered hand, entering the house as she held the door open. She led me to the back bedroom where the troublesome television set was located, and stayed as I got down and rummaged around the back looking at the connections. Eventually I was able to find a spot where part of the cable had been frayed and had shorted to the ground sheath. Maybe five minutes later, I was standing up wiping some sweat off my forehead and telling her “Okay, if that works you won’t have to call the cable guys.”
She turned the television on, bringing forth a loud blast of static and fuzz, then she hit the channel button and we got a legitimate picture from CNN, followed in quick order by a country music video, an old Sixties cartoon (and I won’t embarrass myself by admitting which one), a dimly lit dungeon scene with a scantily-dressed woman in shackles against the wall, a soap opera in Spanish, and the weather channel.
“Seems to be working,” she said finally with a pleased tone. “Thank you so much, I really hate to impose like this, let me do something for you. How about a home-cooked dinner?”
I tried to demur, but we went into the kitchen and had some juice drinks together, her suede skirt moving enticingly as she leaned over the sink, and before I knew it I was agreeing to come by her house at eight.
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, other than an increasing sense of unease on my part. I couldn’t decide whether I was reading signals from Helen, or just reacting to not having been on a date in over three months. I could just imagine myself saying something inappropriate and finding myself out on my ear. After lunch I suddenly decided that I needed to get a haircut, and after that I went through my closet to find a slacks and shirt combination that was halfway dressy but not showy, and took a much longer shower than usual.
At eight promptly, I rang Helen’s doorbell and waited. My wait was rewarded this time, and I was glad I’d decided to improve my appearance. Helen had let her hair down in a glorious cascade around her shoulders, she was wearing some sort of makeup that emphasized her already striking eyes, and the light blue dress she was wearing put the lie to my first impression of her as “matronly”. It wasn’t blatant by any means, but it clung to her in spots and left the imagination free to wander in others.
I’ll admit my imagination was wandering during dinner. I’m not sure what we talked about, but the food was good and the wine set it off nicely. Too much wine, perhaps, because I offered to help clear the dishes but found myself getting dizzy when I tried to stand up. Helen helped me back into my seat, and took the plate from in front of me. “Take it easy, there,” she told me, “I’ll just be a few minutes downstairs taking care of some things, then we can have dessert.”
The room was definitely off kilter, so I was glad to take that advice. I heard her open a door, followed by the sound of footsteps clicking more and more faintly. Minutes passed, and I slowly realized it had been some time without her coming back.
I pushed myself up onto none-too-steady feet, and went toward the kitchen to see what had happened. I saw a pie ready for cutting, but not Helen. I opened a door which turned out to be a walk-in pantry, with another door at its back. I opened that hesitantly. “Helen?” I called, but got no reply. I could see the stairs dimly outlined from the pantry light, and took slow careful steps downward into the gloom of the basement. My balance was none too good, and my own footsteps seemed to echo oddly. Finally, the stairs ended and I assured myself I was on solid ground. I felt around for a light switch.
What my palm landed on instead was a firm, warm, hard-nippled breast.
While I was still reacting to that, something soft was held over my mouth and nose and everything around me faded out.
*****
My shoulders hurt.
That was the first thing I noticed. Shortly after that, my body told me that it was feeling chill air flowing in places that shouldn’t be exposed to the air. I opened my eyes blearily. I was standing against a cold wall, naked, my wrists above my head and slightly behind me. I tugged on them; something was holding them up. I tried to move my feet; something was keeping my ankles spread out similarly.
The next thing that occurred to me was that there was light now; a dim, murky light. Familiar…
then a picture came to my mind. The dungeon scene on Helen’s television set. But if I was the one in the shackles here, then who…?
A throat was cleared, and I looked to my left. It took me several moments to recognize the woman standing there as Helen. For one thing, she was nude. Gloriously nude, full breasts, broad hips, a neatly trimmed triangle, long legs. Technically I suppose she wasn’t totally nude, but her heels only emphasized the rest of her appearance. She stood in command of the room, with a look that brooked no questions. Kneeling at her feet was another woman, younger, also nude, with a dark collar around her neck and something filling her mouth.
Helen spoke up. “About time you came to. I must say, I didn’t expect you to make it all the way downstairs. No, save the complaints and protests; I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.” She pointed to the girl at her feet. “This is Jennifer. Jennifer and I have something in common — my former husband. It turns out he was cheating on me, and had the poor taste to have a heart attack while they were going at it. Poor Jennifer here lost her head and called the first number she found in his wallet — which was mine.”
The girl shook her head and a whimpering sound came out around the thing in her mouth. Helen prodded the girl from behind with the toe of her shoe, and the sounds ceased. Helen continued, “I brought Jennifer with me when I moved here. Since she took my husband from me, she owes me a lot. And I’ll admit, she has her uses. Her mouth, for example, is very talented.”
Helen bent down and unfastened a strap, and pulled a penis-shaped gag out of the girl’s mouth. “Jennifer here is going to keep you entertained for a while. I looked at your shoes when you were working on my television set. I found it so interesting that they matched the shoeprints I found that morning in the ground outside the little basement window.”
Jennifer was crawling toward me on her hands and knees while Helen was speaking, and the top of her head brushed upward against my balls, followed by her cheek, then her lips. She took me into her mouth, and I groaned at the sensation. Helen was still talking: “I really don’t want to have to move again; it took me some time to find a house with a usable basement, and I don’t let Jennifer out of the house for obvious reasons.”
She was right about the girl’s talent; I don’t think I ever had a blow job as slow, exquisite, and teasing as this one. I didn’t wonder that Helen’s husband had keeled over. I tried to thrust my hips forward, but Jennifer just moved back in rhythm with me and continued her slow, teasing pace.
“So when you started raising a fuss about noises in the basement, what was I to do? Other than have a long session with Jennifer here about being quiet at night. We had to give you a bigger cock to suck on after that, didn’t we Jen?” Jennifer shuddered and swallowed, and that almost pushed me over the edge, but she squeezed my cock at the base and held me until the moment passed.
I was going crazy with lust, my legs hurt from straining, and my cock felt like it would burst. I wanted nothing more than to slam myself into Jennifer’s mouth and cum until I was empty, but she kept me just a whisper away from that release. Helen now sounded as if she were speaking from everywhere in the room, and my world was shrinking to the lips around my cock and the voice in my ears. “I decided that the only way to deal with you was to have you join our little family. I can certainly use a handyman around here. Behave, and you’ll find out that I’ve got more talents than our little Jennifer here, and any number of creative ways to use them. Who knows, maybe you can even spend some nights in your own bed. Otherwise…”
My breathing had taken on a frantic panting quality, and my groin was throbbing with unreleased semen needing to come out.
“I’m going upstairs to have a nice bath and watch some television. I think you know the channel. Jennifer has strict instructions not to let you cum, and she’s gotten very good at following instructions. When I come back downstairs, you can tell me if you’d like to follow my lead.”
She turned and walked away, her ass flexing as she moved up the stairs.
Jennifer continued her ministrations, speeding up and slowing down as if she knew my body better than I did myself.
The animal in the basement was whimpering again.
I was the one whimpering.
***** {END} *****
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