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CREDIT CRUNCH
By Velvetglove
Copyright and Disclaimer
‘Credit Crunch’ is an original work of fiction and neither events nor characters portrayed are based in reality. Any resemblance with actual persons is entirely coincidental. This is a short story in two parts: ‘Credit’ and ‘Crunch’. It contains bdsm and sex but it is primarily a psychological mind-fuck. Story Codes are: M/f, M/mf, D/s, blackmail. Copyright is asserted by the author and no reposting to other sites or commercial use whatsoever is authorised.
Part One: “Credit”
“Mister Glover will see you know.”
The secretary ushered the couple from the waiting area into his office.
Vincent Glover nodded curtly at his secretary. She was stunningly beautiful and provocatively dressed in a short grey skirt and tight cream blouse. She sashayed her hips as she turned and closed the heavy oak door behind her.
He gestured at the two chairs in front of his desk.
The husband and wife looked nervously at him and at each other. They slowly sat down facing him. They were both in their late twenties. The man was tall, fair-haired, wearing a suit and tie. The woman was chestnut-blonde, with shoulder length hair set Farrah-Fawcett-style, very pretty, wearing a black dress and a cardigan covering her shoulders.
The tick of his antique grandfather clock echoed in the silence. He caught a whiff of the woman’s musky perfume as it wafted across his desk.
“So.” He said, finally flipping open the file on his desk. “You’ve been well and truly fucked, haven’t you ?”
He had already crunched the numbers. Their names were Mike and Melissa Merrill. They had a $1.2 million mortgage. It had been affordable at the initial subsidised fixed rate for the first two years, and so long as Mike held down his fancy job and pulled in a decent annual bonus.
But now the ‘hook’ interest rate had expired and his employer wasn’t paying bonuses. Mike had even been considered lucky to hold on to his job in the latest wave of redundancies.
“So why are you here ?”
They glanced at each other again. Mike coughed and spoke.
“We saw your bank’s advert and made some enquiries. We’re here to apply for a re-mortgage … Sir.”
Vince Glover nodded. There was no beating around the bush. They all knew the score. His private bank was called the Bank of Land and Realty, abbreviated to BLR. But most people who knew of it called it something else; the ‘Bank of Last Resort’ !
“It would be easier to just hand back the keys and give the place up.”
The woman let out a small squeak. “We couldn’t do that … Sir.”
He let his eyes rest on her again. The file had her birth date at 1980. She was 28 but could have passed for 23. Her complexion looked creamy in that way chestnut-blondes have. Her perfect teeth were shiny and her lipstick had obviously been applied with extra precision that morning.
“Why not ?”
Her blue eyes filled with tears. “It’s our home. We have two kids. Please …” she began crying. Her husband leaned across and squeezed her hand.
“It’s her dream, Sir. Loved that house the moment she set eyes on it.”
Vince stared at him. This guy was clearly no wheeler-dealer. No wonder they’d gotten themselves in such a deep pile of doo-doo.
“How much is the house worth, you reckon ?”
“One and a half million plus, Sir.”
Vince snorted. “In this market ? Eight, nine hundred thousand tops. Your equity’s all gone, son.”
“The agent said we’d get …”
“Agents don’t know jackshit. You’d get what a bank says it’s worth.”
“I think …” the man’s voice rose.
“You know so much then fuck off out of here. I’ve got other wannabe customers to see. People living in the real world.”
Melissa Merrill glared at her husband. “Please, Sir. My husband’s very emotional at present. Can we apply for a re-mortgage ?”
“Sorry.” Her husband mumbled.
Vince slowly sat back in his chair, appeased. The woman was not only tidy, she had a nice manner. He pointed to her cardigan.
“Take that off.”
She shut her eyes, blinked and steeled herself. It was obvious she’d been waiting for this moment to arrive. They clearly knew the score. Her husband sat, visibly shrinking in his chair. The dynamic between the two of them was interesting.
“Here’s the deal. I’ll consider giving you a re-mortgage. But the terms will be … tough.”
He watched her lay down the cardigan in her lap. He winked and she understood. She stood up and placed the cardigan over the back of her chair.
“No, you,” he pointed, “help her remove the dress.”
Mike took a deep breath and rose out of his chair.
Vince watched him unzip and slowly peel the black dress down over his wife’s shoulders. She was wearing a lacy black, ½-cup bra. Her cleavage was full, probably D. Her stomach came into view. It was toned, flat except for the slight telltale mound that betrayed the fact she’d had two children. She stepped out of her dress and her husband held it in his hand. She was wearing black stockings, heels and a thong.
“Sit down.” He said to her. “You stay standing.” He ordered Mike, ignoring him and ogling Melissa’s assets as she retook her seat in front of him.
“There’s an application fee. To prove to me you’re both serious.”
She blushed. “Yes ?”
“A blowjob. And it had better be good.”
He looked at her and then up meaningfully at her grim-faced husband.
“And six of the best for you on your naked backside.”
“What ?!” Mike’s hand flew up and gouged his fringe of fair hair in shock.
“It’s a joint application.” Vince replied, starting to enjoy himself. “You both have to show similar commitment.”
“Then ?” she asked.
“Then I mull it over a day or two. I approve about one in three applications.”
They both dry-swallowed. “And if we don’t … pass ?”
Vince flipped the file closed. “No mortgage.”
She leaned forward. “And if you decide to approve us ?”
“We try and hammer out a deal. That can take a while.”
“We don’t have time.” Mike interrupted. “They’ll foreclose and throw us out within seven days.”
Vince shrugged. “I can maybe lend you a couple of weeks interest to buy some time. Secured on those titties there.” He winked. “Lose the bra.”
She sat back and unclipped her front-loader, then pushed the cups away from her pendulous breasts. Her neck was pinpricked by an embarrassed, scarlet flush.
“How do we know you’ll … you know … do us a deal ?”
“You don’t.” he said to Mike, steepling his fingers smugly. “I might just hose your wife’s throat, thrash your butt and forget about you. Frankly it depends on your good lady’s blowing technique.”
“We don’t have a choice, darling.” She muttered to her husband.
Vince gave an exaggerated glance at his watch. “Time is money, folks.”
There was a long silence. “Okay.” They both said at once.
“Go sit outside in the waiting area.”
He watched Mike walk slowly over to the door. Vince caught his forlorn glance back into the room as he closed the door behind him.
“You like giving head ?”
She made a face. “Not really.”
“You know how ?”
“I’ve done it. Er … sucking and licking. Nothing much. Just, you know, foreplay.”
Vince curled his finger at her. “Come here.”
She walked round the side of the desk to face him. He sat back in his chair and opened his thighs. “Kneel. Then take my pants down.”
On cue, Vince’s phone rang. He loved talking on the phone at moments like this. His secretary had waited thirty seconds. Her singsong voice came on the line.
“You need anything, Sir ?”
“Nope. Just read me today’s profit figures.”
He listened as he watched Melissa’s elegant fingers clumsily unbuckling his belt, top button, his fly. He lifted his hips so she could ease his trousers down his legs to his ankles.
“Take my shoes off.” He whispered.
She unfastened his laces and eased his leather shoes off in turn, then pulled his pants off over his socks. He threw his legs open wide again.
He made occasional noises of approval at the figures. It had been a good day. His bank had actually cleared more in profit today than this couple’s entire mortgage. Not bad. Vince was only a few years older than the Merrills but through his drive, ambition and ruthlessness he’d built up his own private bank specialising in distressed debt, bankruptcies, junk bonds, that kind of stuff. Mucky work but somebody’s gotta do it !
“Kiss my balls first.”
He watched her pink tongue snake out and slowly dab at his scrotum. Nowadays, he could have his choice of a hundred women to blow him; his mistress, other girlfriends, plenty of hookers and desperate debtors like this dame. But his favourite was always a new one. The moment of conquest.
“Now my asshole.”
She baulked momentarily then lowered her face to his bottom.
“Get Manny on the line.” He said to his secretary. “Ask him to pop up here in fifteen minutes.”
He placed the phone down and looked at her. “Better hurry lady. My attorney’s coming by in quarter of an hour. He’d like a BJ too ! Mmm.”
He savoured her hot wetness burrowing deeper into his anus. His erection was hard now; engorged and raring to go.
“Okay, lady. Show me your tricks.”
She moved her mouth up to his hairy groin and curled her fingers round his shaft.
“No, no !” he laughed. “No hands. That’s cheating. Oral means oral.”
She looked up at him. Her nostrils flared indignantly. But she put her lips round his helmet.
“You must love your family.” He mused. “Your home and kids. You on the PTA ?”
She paused her head mid-bob, then nodded to signify she was.
“I wonder what all the teachers and soccer moms would say if they could see you now ?”
He sat silent a while, savouring her unsophisticated but rhythmic slurping. Her lips kept making obscene glugging noises round his shaft.
“You have two kids, right ? Four and two. Nice ages. I’ll bet they love their bedrooms, the den, the yard.”
Her blue eyes glanced at him but she stayed concentrated on her job. He winked and shut his eyes, feeling the pressure building. He’d already toyed with his dick a few times that afternoon, almost to the point of orgasm, then stopping. Made him trigger-happy and that helped with new dames. Otherwise it all sometimes took too long.
But, better still, it stimulated his balls into full production mode. Gave them a big mouthful to cope with. Truly a bitter pill to swallow.
“Not bad.” He encouraged. “You realise you swallow it all, right ?”
She didn’t speak, just turned her pretty blue eyes up fully to look at him. He reached down and put his fingers to her earlobes, guiding her head up and down in rhythm. Her neck muscles had to be hurting.
“Mmm …” he chuckled, “… let’s sign that application form.”
Her eyes widened as hot spurt after thick spurt cascaded over her tongue and splashed the roof of her mouth. He pushed her head back slightly so as not to make her gag and also so that his chewy jizz didn’t bypass her taste buds.
After all, it might be the only time she got to savour his flavour.
Her husband accepted it like a lamb.
Vince’s specially built, huge walnut desk contained built in shackles that flipped out from secret compartments. In just a few moments, Mr. Merrill’s taut, bare buttocks were stretched tight over the near edge of the desk, his ankles chained to the legs, and his wrists chained to the opposite end.
Vince swung the brutal bamboo in an arc, making the air whoosh. Like golf, he always took a couple of practise swings.
He winked at the wife who was now dressed again, sitting, watching.
He lashed the first stroke down with a satisfying splat. One !
The husband howled, rattled the shackles, hissed short, fast breaths.
Two !
Three !
The wife’s watery eyes pleaded with Vince to show some mercy.
Four !
He whapped the white, clenching butts harder than ever.
Five !
Six !
He laid down the cane and wiped his brow.
“Come here.” He said.
She rose and walked over to him. He pushed her down so she was sitting directly on top of her husband’s scalding, striped buttocks.
“Kiss me.”
She hesitated, leaned forward, parting her smudged lips.
Vince used his tongue to possess her.
“Think hard.” He said. “It really would be so much easier to give up your home.”
*** *** ***
A week later, it had cost him a couple of thousand bucks, but they were hooked. Their existing bank had accepted the payment and given them an extra two weeks grace to re-mortgage, instead of foreclosing.
Vince was fucking Melissa on his desk.
She was face up, her bra askew, skirt riding up, heels locked round his waist. Her enthusiasm was almost convincing.
He let rip, emptying his balls inside her married, maternal vagina. She was pretty tight for a mom but he’d mainly use her mouth in future. And her asshole.
But best get the paperwork signed before the buttfucking began !
It was 10.15 in the morning. He pushed himself up off her body.
“Lie there.” He said. “Don’t move. I like watching my cum ooze out.”
She didn’t budge. He even thought he detected a little frustration, as if she’d maybe been building towards a climax herself.
This was a private meeting. Just the two of them. To see whether they could ‘advance negotiations’. Her husband had dropped her off then gone to his own office.
“I don’t see any short term fixes.” He said, idly fingering her labia open. “It will be fifteen, twenty years. That’s how long it’ll take.”
She turned her head slowly to look at him. “Fifteen years ?”
He clicked his teeth. “You’d still both be only mid-forties. You’d have your home. Your kids would have grown up in it.”
“Please …” she looked away. “I’ll do anything. Within reason.”
“You bet you will. I could buy the best hookers in town for what I’d effectively be paying you.”
He idly watched his white slug emerging from her well-fucked rose petals.
“Tell me what’s required.” She whispered.
“I have around a dozen women like you. My debt sluts. You are at my beck and call seven days a week. You fuck me, you fuck my friends. You suck, fuck and take it up the ass too. You do other stuff too. Not all the time, of course. But whenever you’re told.”
Her face froze, absorbing his crude words one at a time. Then slowly, she ran her tongue over her dry lips, her voice breaking.
“And … my husband ? What would he have to do ?”
“Not so much. Babysit your kids, keep in the background, jack himself off if he’s horny. You’d be mine, not his. You would never have sex of any kind with him without my prior permission. Hidden cameras will be installed in your … I mean … my house to monitor you all.”
She stared at him, the merest flicker of a relieved smile passing across her lips.
“And that’s all ? If we agree to that, then you’ll approve the loan ?”
He frowned. Most of them went sobbing from his office at this point. It usually took 48 hours or so before they came round to his way of thinking. Maybe he should strike a harder bargain ?”
“Well, there’ll be some small print.” He added. “A few surprises. But you’ve heard the most of it.”
His semen was trickling into her anal cleft. Maybe he should ass-fuck her today ? This one was going to be a whole lot of fun.
“I agree to your proposal, Sir.”
“And what about your husband ?”
Her mouth tightened determinedly. “Oh, he’ll agree too, Sir. I promise.”
*** *** ***
Mike knelt, with his head just inches from his wife’s pussy. He could smell the heady, fishy aroma of stale sex.
“Don’t touch.” Melissa warned. “I gave my word. Though I will miss your tongue … cuck.”
He looked longingly at the heart-shaped tuft of downy pubes on her mound, finding it all hard to absorb.
Between fifteen and twenty years ! He was going to spend up to two decades as the wimp husband of a hot wife.
It had all been Melissa’s brainchild. Throughout their marriage he’d suggested swinging and then, when she wouldn’t go for that, he’d mentioned his true fantasy, cuckolding.
He’d shown her porno movies, websites, magazine letters and, gradually, she’d expressed mild interest in the idea. They’d started playing at fantasies and a bit of domination, but never actually plucked up the courage to turn cuckolding into reality.
And then Melissa had heard rumours about the Bank of Land and Realty, or the bank of last resort, as it was known ! She’d spied on Vince Glover, the CEO, and she’d hatched this plan to get them out of their financial crisis in the only way possible.
“He’s not bad looking, actually.” She said, closing her bathrobe. “I nearly reached a climax today. I could get to like having sex with him. Who knows ? I might even like his friends too, if they’re like him.”
Mike shivered, watching her walking to the shower.
“Do you think he suspected anything ? You know, that this was actually what you … we … planned ?”
She hung her robe and turned her head.
“I don’t think so. And so what if he did ? It’s a contract. I shall keep my end of the bargain and I’m sure he’ll keep his.”
She frowned. “What are these footprints ?”
Mike shrugged. “A surveyor came from the bank to measure up and value the place. He looked everywhere, checked everything. I left him to it. He seemed satisfied when he left.”
She turned on the water jets and waited for the water to heat up.
“We’ve got it darling. We’ve got our re-mortgage, our home. And you get to live out your weird fantasy too. Everybody wins. Now, go and feed the kids.”
*** *** ***
In his office across town, Vince sipped his bourbon, listening to the sound of the shower over his PC’s speakers. He scrunched a square of yellow notepaper and played her words back in his mind.
“And so what if he did ? It’s a contract. What we planned. We’ve got it darling. We’ve got our re-mortgage, our home. And you get to live out your weird fantasy too. Everybody wins.”
Not so fast, little lady.
His surveyor had installed a few hidden microphones, before the proper CCTV system went in. It was surprising what you could discover when people didn’t know that anybody was listening.
So, the guy actually enjoyed Vince banging his missus, huh ? And the trollop actually fancied being a hot wife ? Well, nothing wrong with either of those things in normal circumstances.
But they were getting a new and flexible mortgage at a special rate. They were meant to be suffering for it, not getting their kicks. They’d pulled a fast one on Vincent Glover.
Everybody wins ?
Bullshit.
End of Part One
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