KARMA - Squatters

This fiction series was inspired (and requested by) a wonderful, caring friend of mine. She has read my other writing and asked me to write out some fantasies she has. NOTE: they sometimes involve, among other things, rape, BDSM, interracial, anal, oral, bisexuality, and incest. My writing them out for her has allowed her to safely "experience" some of her desires without actually being raped, etc. I personally do not condone rape, and if I could do so, would exact some pretty horrific things on those who choose to rape others. I respect her right to her fantasies and do not judge her, nor anyone for hers (or for theirs). I wrote these stories to support her, as she has been there for me during some pretty rough patches in my life.

If any of the aforementioned things are problematic for you, I respect that and recommend you do not continue reading this story. If you are under 18 or are reading this in a jurisdiction that legally does not allow such material to be viewed or read, do not continue and go to another website. As I mentioned, the stories in this series are fiction. The characters' responses to what happens to them are not what most would consider realistic. While they may be inspired by the ideas of others, none of the details and characters ever actually existed or experienced what occurs to them in these stories.

This series is about the activities of a former special forces soldier who came upon an enormous amount of cash well hidden during a covert operation during which most of his team was killed. After the Op and while on a two week leave, he and his two remaining team members returned to retrieve the money. They divided it in three, making a pact to never mention it to anyone. He walked away with over $80 million. He wisely did his research and hid the money in various offshore untraceable accounts and other investments and ventures. He finished his tour of duty, received an honorable discharge, and "disappeared".

Having witnessed many horrible things happen to good, undeserving people, and seeing how sometimes a simple offering or gift from a stranger can turn someone's life around, he decided to help those much less fortunate than himself. He would travel, finding people in unfortunate circumstances and do something to turn their lives around. He would do so anonymously, treating each case like a covert ops mission. Those involved could be ordinary people or those with celebrity status. The key would be that these people did not have normal recourse to their problems and would not know of his plans.

In order to remain anonymous, he hired some scientists to do some clandestine research. They developed a way to genetically modify his cellular nuclear material so that he could not be tracked or identified by DNA. He had his fingerprints removed with a laser. He had numerous false identities and histories created. But from this point on, to those whose lives he changed, he would be known only as KARMA.... These stories are told from his point of view.

KARMA - SQUATTERS

Waiting in line at local coffee shop in Portland, Oregon, I listened to a story this young woman was telling her friend. Turns out she was a freshman in college, away from home in Queens, NY, on full financial aid. Her parents were recently killed in a car accident, leaving her the lease on their loft apartment, which had about 3 months left. Two so-called friends, who were sisters, were kicked out of their own apartment and needed someplace to stay. Being a nice person and thinking these two were her friends, she let them stay there until the lease ended. As it turns out, these two sisters were not such great friends after all. They refused to move out when the lease ended and are fighting their "eviction" on grounds that they have squatters rights having stayed there for a few months. Apparently, they also did a pretty good job of trashing the apartment (holes in the walls, clutter, broke the refrigerator, etc.).

This poor young student had barely a cent to her name, her parents did not have any money or assets to leave her, and now as the default tenant was responsible for the damage her two ex-friends have done, legal costs to the landlord (who while nice was being forced to sue her to get them removed), and estimated rent for the past six months of them occupying the space. She of course had nothing, no other family to help out, no money, and she was stuck with a huge financial and legal nightmare, one that could ruin so many opportunities for her in the future.

I had heard enough. When bad things happen to good people, that pisses me off. Time for a random act of kindness. I set up surveillance on her for a few days and discovered she was as smart as she was benevolent. I hacked into the university's computer system and discovered she was on a full scholarship for academic achievement and in a pre-med program. Her grades were nothing less than an A minus. Based on her college application essay and commentary from her professors, she has a promising future as a doctor and cancer researcher. I prepared a trust fund in her name and created a paper trail so it would appear her parents had been secretly saving for her. It would cover her living expenses and future med school costs. She would learn about this next year, long after any association to my work would possibly be considered.

I was able to track down the location of the apartment, the landlord and learned all I could about him and these two ex-friends of hers. The landlord was easy. A fairly nice older guy. Volunteered tutoring homeless kids at the local shelter for women & children. Disabled, in a wheelchair, and survived off of his meager social security disability and two rental apartments in the building he too inherited from his family. I knew he'd also be out on the street very soon unless he could count on rental income from that apartment. He too needed some relief. I set aside some money to cover the lost rental income and repairs to the apartment. He'd receive a gift from an anonymous "pay it forward" philanthropist soon.

So now it was the girls. They seemed nice enough on the surface, but after surveilling them for a few days, I learned they were like Dr. Jeckl & Mr. Hyde. Smile in your face, all loving, and then stab you in the back when you turned around. They were the type to take advantage of any situation that could benefit them, no matter what the collateral damage would be to others. Both sisters were Latina, daughters of Mexican immigrants. Needless to say, they did not live up to their parents' expectations. They had moved out east a few years ago. They got to know this young freshman when she worked the counter at their favorite cafe and saw her as an easy target of future opportunity. This woman wasn't the first with whom they had pulled this scam. Apparently, she was one of a string of others who received the same treatment.

Sonia was the older one, 25 years old. She was a lesbian. Shorter, around 5 foot 2, she had a few extra pounds but she wore it very well and it didn't look bad on her. Generous sized tits and a plump ass and hips. Shoulder length straight black hair and a dark olive complexion. Sonia was an aspiring actor. Went through girlfriends on a regular basis, using them up for what she could get them to pay for and then dumping them when she felt they were a pain in the ass. Melodramatic artist.

Her younger sister, Yasmin, had just turned 21. She fancied herself a socialite, a supermodel, or at least an aspiring one. She couldn't bring herself to work, choosing instead to live off the gifts of a few select older sugar daddy businessman who liked having a young exotic looking lady on his arm. Melodramatic as well. Unlike her sister, she was taller, about 5 foot 7. Slender with C-cup tits, a narrow waist. Shelf-like ass but less in the hips department than her sister. Long straight hair and a flawless mocha complexion. And an attitude to go with it. She wouldn't give most people the time of day, unless they had something that could benefit her.

The only thing that held any importance to these two (other than themselves) was each other. For two who were so selfish, it was ironic how close they were. I considered all the options of how to persuade them to leave. After watching them for a week, these two would not leave with a simple persuading, or a guilt trip laid on them. They needed a reason to leave. One that would make them want to get as far away from that apartment as possible. I began planning.

They used the apartment primarily as a crash pad and a place to store their stuff. I never saw them bring anyone home. It was their secret, as they spoke to others of living in a luxury condo downtown overlooking the harbor. Getting in and out of the apartment without being noticed would be easy. The building was solid, heavy walls & few windows. It was converted from a small warehouse for storing valuables to a number of lofts. The landlord lived in the front on the ground floor. The apartment with the women was in the back on the 3rd floor. With all of the concrete and heavy construction, it was as soundproof as it gets. All the better for what I had in mind.

I gained entry into the apartment after they had left to go out partying. I wore a baklava mask and dark jumpsuit to obscure my identity. My genetic modifications meant that I would leave nothing that could be used for DNA samples. I set up cameras and microphones to capture everything.

Yasmin wasn't feeling too well, so I figured she might be coming home first. I was right. She stumbled in the apartment, somewhat inebriated, complaining about her "fucking headache." Rather than "suffer" through the blinding light in the hallway, she left it off, locked the door, and felt her way down the hall. I waited in the dark until she passed the first bedroom and then snuck up behind her. I wrapped one hand around her mouth, covering it with a rag soaked with chloroform, the other around her midsection, pinning her arms to her sides. She inhaled sharply in surprise, attempted to shriek and struggle, and after a few moments succumb to the fumes and passed out.

I picked her up and carried her into the living room. I laid her on the couch and took out a knife. With a few slices, I deftly cut the expensive dress from her body, also removing her pushup bra (not that she needed it) and her thong. She was shaved bare, with a slightly puffy pussy. I would have fun with that later.

I stuffed her thong in her mouth and used the straps cut from her bra to secure it in place. I bound her arms behind her, securing her wrists to her elbows. This had the effect of causing her chest to thrust forward slightly. Nice. I picked her up and sat her on an ottoman that was nothing more than a short heavy padded chair with legs but no back. I tied her ankles to the ottoman legs and a rope from her knees to her wrists, forcing her legs to spread apart and exposing that beautiful pussy. Her labia spread slightly, enough so her clit could be visible under its hood. I couldn't resist and knelt down in front of her. I gave her clit a few swipes with my tongue, then flicked it back and forth a few times. Her head was hanging low on her chest, still out of it. However, my actions elicited a few moans from her. I pinched her clit between my thumb and forefinger, squeezing it and giving it a little twist. The slight moan increased to a louder muffled groan.

Her eyes fluttered open, trying to figure out what was going on. She lifted her head and her eyes went wide when she saw me. She tried to scream through her gag and struggled to move but the gag was too well secure and the ottoman too heavy to budge. My knots were too well tied for her to pull through them. Her breasts heaved as she panted, the look of fear in her eyes. I stood up in front of her, her eyes following me.

"I've been watching you for some time now. You and your sister," I said. "The three of us are going to have a little fun. Well, at least one of us will."

"Mmmghghmmgh," she tried to speak through her gag and struggled again in vain.

"And depending on how well things go tonight, I just might come back for some more."

I walked around her, looking at her lithe body as her futile efforts to free herself subsided. She hung her head low. I sat behind her on the ottoman and slid up so my chest was against her back. My crotch nestled against her ass, which in the position she was tied was thrust back. She stiffened up. I ran my hands along her upper legs, across her stomach and up over her breasts. They stood proudly on her chest with no sag, and I cupped them, squeezing them lightly. God, they felt heavenly. They were firm, with small nipples. I took them between my thumb and forefingers and rolled them, pinching them lightly. Yasmin tried to resist responding but I detected a little shudder and the little buds stiffened slightly. Her nipples were sensitive, but my efforts were not enough to overcome her fear and disgust at what she was experiencing.

I reached into a small toolbag I had placed beside the ottoman and pulled out a vibrator. I turned it on and traced her labia with it. She stiffened up again and shook her head no. I slid it over her clit and she shuddered. I rolled it over her clit a few times, then lowered it down her slit. I pressed the tip against the opening, but she was still dry, while I held her tightly against me, one hand still cupping her breast.

I whispered in her ear, "It would go in a lot easier, and probably less painful, if it was lubricated with something."

I put down the vibe and loosened the bra strap, removing the thong.

"Let me go, you fucking piece of shit!" she screamed at me.

"Now, now," I said calmly. "This isn't the way to speak to a guest."

"Go to hell, Maricon! Puta! Pendejo! Aieeeeeeee!!!!!"

She shrieked as the hand cupping her breast squeezed tightly and twisted her nipple painfully hard. My other hand came up and grabbed her by the throat. I squeezed, not enough to damage her but enough to prevent her from yelling.

"Now, we can do this my way, or the hard way. Actually, both are my way as you can't do anything about it, but one will be a lot easier for you. Now, which is it going to be?"

I let go of her neck and she started screaming for help. I let her do so for a few moments until she started to tire. My hand closed around her throat once again, this time squeezing enough that she couldn't breath or speak. Panic filled her eyes and that perfect mocha complexion started to turn reddish purple.

"As you know, this apartment is basically soundproof. No one is going to hear you. So you can keep screaming all you want, which will give me a headache and you a sore throat and you'll end up gagged again. Or you can behave and do as you're told. What's it going to be?"

I released my hand and she coughed, panting to catch her breath.

"F...f...fine." she said.

I picked up the vibrator and pressed it to her lips.

"Good. Now, you know where this is going. Do you want to make it go in easier?"

She nodded slowly and then opened her mouth. At first I started to push it in, but then stopped, curious to see what she would do. She let it slide past her lips, leaning forward to take more of it in. She moved her head back and forth, letting it slide in and out. I started to get hard as she closed her eyes and slid her tongue over it as well. She pressed her head forward and slid it in deep. I could feel it against the back of her throat. She adjusted her neck slightly and I felt her throat give way as she took it in all the way to my fingers. She deep throated it in and out a few times and then pulled back. The vibrator glistened and dripped with her saliva.

"Damn, you have some skills, that's for sure."

I moved the fake penis down to her crotch. I turned it on and slid the tip back and forth between her labia, brushing up against her clit several times. For a moment, I pressed and held it against the little nub, just to feel her tremble. I then pushed it through the opening into her vagina. She was starting to moisten a bit, and after moving it back and forth a few times, I had it all the way in. I started fucking her with the motorized cock. I slid my other hand from her tit down to her pussy and started gently rubbing her clit in circles. She began moving, gyrating a little.

"No...no...please don't," she moaned.

"Why, are you turned on?" I asked. I angled the vibrator up so it would brush over her G-spot.

"Uhhh...oh...no...no... not there....don't...."

I kept up my efforts, running my tongue along the back of her neck and ear. Her head started to lay back against my shoulder.

"Uhh...mmmm....nngh... uhh...don't.... please...ohhhh... stop it...stop... please...por...favor... don't...wanna.... ohhh....mmmm."

She thrust her hips as best she could against her restraints. At first, she tried to get away but her efforts actually pushed her body against me or my hands. I know she could feel my hard cock through the jumpsuit against her ass, teasing her asshole. She hated the situation she was in, not being in control, being forced to submit to her body's responses.

"No...no...I can't ...can't... make... me... nnnnnnghnnnuuuuuuUUUUUUUHHHHH!!!!" she cried as she came, convulsing against the ropes and my body. I kept up the efforts for a few moments, just past the point where the pleasure was bearable for her. She tried to tell me to stop but she couldn't get the words out. I withdrew the vibrator and shut it off. I ran it over her tits and mouth, her juices coating her nipples and full lips.

She started to recover from her orgasm, and the attitude came right back with it.

"You fucking prick! Fuck you for making me do that!"

"Making you? Your body betrays you, my dear. You seemed to enjoy it more than I did."

"Blow me, you piece of shit!" she spat at me.

I got up and walked in front of her.

"Hmm.... I have a better idea. Why don't YOU blow ME instead?"

The anger burned in her eyes.

"That's the last thing I would do, asshole!"

"Tell you what. You have a choice. Either you can suck me off, or I'll get your sister to do it for you. In fact, I know your sister's a lesbian. Has she ever fucked a guy? Or maybe tonight should be her first time...."

The fire raged hotter. "Don't you dare!"

"Really? Don't you know it's "every guy's fantasy" to have sex with a lesbian? Especially one as attractive as your sister."

"Don't do it. Don't touch her, please!"

"Do you have a better offer?"

With evil in her eyes, she relented.

"Fine, I'll blow you. Then just leave us alone."

"Not good enough."

"Okay, okay. You can fuck me too. Just not in the ass. That's off limits."

I stared at her for a few moments, letting her think about what she was offering, making her worry about whether or not I would accept it. Of course I was going to.

"If you're as good as I think you are, it's a deal. Just remember, fuck with me, bite me, or do anything I don't like, I'll use this. On both of you."

I pulled out an 8" long combat knife and ran the blunt edge along her breasts. Her eyes widened in fear.

"Fine," she said, reluctantly. "Let's just get this over with."

"First, beg."

"What? No, you're crazy!"

I turned the blade and rested it against her nipple so she could feel how sharp it was without cutting her. She winced. I removed the knife and placed it out of sight of the cameras but close at hand.

"Beg"

She paused for a moment, but then looked up into my eyes, acting it up.

"Please, let me suck your cock."

I remained silent, looking down at her. The look in her eyes changed as she pretended to really want it. She pleaded.

"Please, put it in my mouth. I want to suck you. I want to feel you in my throat. I want to taste your cum. I'll swallow you. I need it. Please...pleeeease...."