The Anonymous Blackmailer Ch 7
Dommed if I don’t, pt 2: it all comes to a head. But whose?
© 2024, all rights reserved to the author Flynn99
[Terry and Eve have discovered that someone on the internet is blackmailing both of them and, so far, has used that power to cause them to perform sex acts in public. Eve has been forced to display herself provocatively at work. And Terry was forced into a scene with a dominatrix which the blackmailer had arranged, but who also was training him on how to do D/S scenes while she’s making him submit. Eve was forced to perform, naked, and humiliate herself at a strip club in front of Terry and the entire audience. Now, Terry has been forced to strip his girlfriend, Sandy, naked and bind her to a chair and is now waiting inside his house for Eve, who he is commanded to fuck in front of Sandy, and thereby make her into a cuckquean. Both Eve and Terry are intensely worried about who’s blackmailing them and why… and terrified about what will become of them.]
*Saturday*
I’m supposed to be on the front porch of a house in the suburbs, stark naked, and knock at seven o’clock tonight. I’m supposed to do whatever I’m told when I get there.
Our blackmailer, IT, has commanded me in his obnoxious broken texting (no one can be as dumb as IT makes IT self sound). That must be like disguising your voice… IT is leaving us no clues.
We call our blackmailer ‘IT’ because we don’t know what gender to use, but moreso because it better describes this person or people: they’re no better than things, not humans.
IT doesn’t tell me how I’m supposed to dress going there, so my little rebellion is that I put on a baggy sweatshirt, baggy running pants and a thick parka. I’m making myself as unattractive as possible. I even put on a pair of plastic clogs: the height of ugly fashion. Damn IT!
It is Saturday. But I had to work this morning and did my best, when I was dressed as slutty as IT has made me. I made my excuses again, telling people I’d lost a bet – it’s end of quarter so there were a lot of people in the office. I think there’ve been complaints to my boss, who looked at me querulously every time I passed his office, clearly wondering if or how to confront me. He’ll probably have to call in HR on Monday if they go that far, since anything he says as a man to me could sound inappropriate. I need my job; me too, I don’t want to get fired!
And I made a lame excuse to Ben, my husband, again. He looked really sad that I would leave him alone on a Saturday night for time out with my friends. I’ve been neglecting him lately because IT has kept me denied. But I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him so wistful as tonight. I assured him I loved him, held him tight and whispered loving things in his ear: a promise to make him really happy tonight if he wants it. At least it was a promise I can keep by blowing him again even if I can’t fuck him. It breaks my heart: what IT is doing to our relationship. I love Ben so much. He’s my everything.
I know how badly he’d react if he know about Terry and me. Terry’s the other person the blackmailer is messing with. Both of us appear guilty of horrible crimes and perversions that we didn’t do… but the internet trails are unarguable. We each would lose to the prosecution in court and get life sentences. IT holds all the cards, and with them, has forced Terry and me to do perverted things, while sending IT pictures all along the way. That means I’ve made a cuckold out of Ben. I didn’t set out to do it: he and I are both very loyal! But IT made me do it.
Ben would never understand. I almost told him. I did. The conversation was leading that way, but I got a text message from IT when Ben was straightening the kitchen. IT has spyware on our phones and knows what we’re talking about. Thetext just said, “NO dont he duznt need 2 kno “
And, Terry. It scares me but I think I love him too. Not like I love Ben, but being in the same horrible prediction and being the only people either of us had to share our trauma with, it has been an atom bomb of exploiting emotions. Yeah, though, to be honest it’s more than that: if I weren’t involved with Ben, I would Fall in love with Terry anyway. He’s masculine, emotionally strong, handsome, vulnerable, kind, funny, compassionate. We share a lot of values and have a real emotional connection, even without the blackmail thing. And he’s the best fucking artist in the world. Well… not a ‘fucking artist’ necessary but an artist who’s fucking good.
And then I laugh to myself and realize that… after all of this, we haven’t actually fucked. I’ve had him inside my mouth, He’s had me on his. But we’ve never actually done the deed even though we are now kinky lovers. He probably is a ‘fucking artist’ too. He has the skills for it. I’ve already been more intimate with him – emotionally and physically – than anyone I’ve ever known. And we haven’t even fucked! I cheated on Ben with him, damn it, but I never got the reward of having his beautiful cock filling me.
I’ve fantasized about Terry. What I’ve learned about myself in the last few days is that, even though I’ve tried, I can’t anymore: I just can’t express my submissive tendencies. I’ve pretended they were not there forever, but they are and Pandora’s box is open. Ben isn’t ever going to dominate me, much as I’ve gone ahead. When I think about it, I think he’s more submissive than I am. But I see the dominant in Terry. I feel it. Although everything that’s happened to us, he’s always masterful. I respect him for the way he’s stayed in control. He has been my brick house, my anchor in this.
So I needed to sort out my feelings. I spent every minute I could reading the net about love today. What happens andwhere it comes from. Why trauma intensifies it. Every list of ‘are you in love’ in those articles I imagined as a checklist, and checked almost every box.
And I looked for advice on my current conundrum: how to deal with it if you love two people.
Of course, I lust Terry… but somehow… even after having known him for only three days – I do: I love him. I love Ben, but I love Terry too. Damn it! If we ever get out of this, I’m going to have a crashing emotional crisis dealing with my feelings.
But now it’s the evening after that tumultuous day and I’m parked out front of this strange house. It’s too late to think of any of that, I need to do what I was told. For some reason, bright lights are coming on inside the house, behind the curtains. What’s that all about?
I just pray that this is Terry’s place.
I walk up to the front porch. It’s a beautiful, big new house. Why does the porch light have to be on? I try to unscrew the bulb but it’s too hot. Damn.Well, I guess I’ll just wait until the last possible moment to get naked. And I stand there, pacing in the cold, trying to look at the other houses to see if anyone is looking at this crazy lady in a park pacing this porch.
I don’t have much time left – IT said 7:00 and I better be prompt. So, I put on the black collar that IT had sent by courier. I strip quickly, clumsily, and stuff my clothes inside my parka, carrying it like a handbag. I’m standing here, naked, on someone’s front porch with the light on for anyone to see, dying of embarrassment and also getting cold. I count the seconds and at exactly 7:00, I knock and assume the pose I was told… legs spread, arms behind my back, standing straight.
And nothing happens.
Shit, shit, shit!
I am struck by a moment of terror. Is something wrong? Did I go to the wrong house? I’m standing on a random strangers’ porch, stark naked? What if their children answer the door? My feelings of fear are getting close to teerror.
“The door is unlocked!” I hear from inside. Thank god, it sounds like Terry’s voice!
I open the door, mindful that I haven’t been commanded to come in. But as I open it, I have to look away. It’s so bright inside! And now I’m naked on the front porch with a spotlight shining on me. As my eyes adjust, again I look inside… and what I see…!
There’s a couch with its back to me and lights shining on it. On the other side is Terry. But he’s standing behind a naked woman who is attached to a chair with some sort of bondage. She’s blindfolded and gagged. No, she’s not naked, she’s wearing stockings and a collar. As my eyes adjust, she appears to be very pretty.
And Terry is staring at me. I see a note of kindness in his eyes and he smiles – winfully, but kinda sweetly, reserved. We have our reflexive greeting: knowing we’re sharing the same trauma.
He takes a picture of me.
Is this a photo shoot? A movie?
But, damn it, I wish he’d let me in.I feel so naked out here!
Well, not surprising, I guess. After all, I am naked. The redeeming factor is that with all this light, I’d only be a silhouette if someone saw me from behind now.
He whispers something to the woman, then take off her blindfold. She sees me and looks shocked, panicked. She turns her head over her shoulder to look Terry in the eyes, trying to say something, but he just smiles at her and strokes her hair. Slowly, she calms, nods and turns forward to face me again. He says, loud enough for me to hear, “Sandy, nod if you want her to come in.”
The woman – Sandy I guess, his girlfriend – bobbles her head a bit.
Does she have to say yes? Is this a test to get us out of this mess, Terry and me? What if she says no? But… What if she says yes? What is she committing to? How must this make her feel?
Then she nods. She’s invited me in. And Terry confirms with a crook in his finger, so I practically dive in and close the door behind me, dumping my clothes aside.
I’m nervous, but I remember how I feel at the strip club – there was power and confidence is fully accepting my sexuality. I want that now. I need that to deal with this. So, I compose myself and stand again, again with my arms behind my back and my legs spread. Waiting.
“Sandy, this is Eve. Eve, this is Sandy. Sandy is my girlfriend and the love of my life. Eve is my fucktoy who I’ve been seeing on the side.”
We both gasp at that description, Sandy, at finding out he has a side chick, and me, at being characterized as a ‘fucktoy.’ It makes me kinda angry.
But then… it also makes me kinda hot. Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I’ll play fucktoy. I’m supposed to do whatever he says, aren’t I? I want to submit to him anyway: I’ve wanted to for days now. And it’s going to happen.
I resolve then. It’s my role. I’m a fucktoy.
Just saying that to myself does something weird to me mentally. I’ve been so worried and so turned on through this wholething, but admitting to myself that I’m a fucktoy? There’s a weird rush of adrenaline and it’s like the blood drops from my head. This is the stuff of my darkest fansies and it’s going to happen! I gasp as I acquaint myself to my new way of thinking. It’s like my brain has been taken over by a lucky, submissive alien.
How is Sandy reacting. Why did he say it that way? I think he was ripping off the metaphorical bandage – getting the worst of it over with so Sandy could have her adjustment moment. The look in her eyes is so intense. She’s definitely fighting some inner demonstrations here.
Fucktoy. If that’s my cue, I should do something. So, I drop to the floor on my knees and look down, not making eye contact. “Tell me what to do, Sir.” Is that what a ‘fucktoy’ says?
I look up and Terry is smiling at me. He comes around and regards me. He makes me feel so small with his eyes. He is a being of power and I am his to command.
He adjusts me sideways, presumably so Sandycan see all the action.
“Spread your legs wide… show me all of you. Wider. Back straight, hands behind your back, chin up, eyes down.” He strokes my cheek, brushes my hair, cares my face. Then he tells me, “Tell Sandy how you feel right now.”
I get a lump in my throat. He probably expects me to say ‘submissive.’ But that’s not the deepest true answer. There’s only one word for how I feel and it’s been on my mind all day. Do I have to do this? Sandy must be humiliated already. And now I have to say it to her… and to him? That might tear her to bits.
Fuck!
I can’t be dishonest here. This scene is raw and real. It can’t be temperatured, it must not be faked. I have to answer.
Sandy’s right hand is balled in a fist… or she’s holding something? Her eyes are unreadable – I’ve never seen her before so I don’t know what that expression means. I feel sad for this woman and what she must be going through, but the school of submissiveness squeezing my heart are winning my attention.
I take a deep breath. “I… I love him.” And I look at Terry and repeat, “I love you.”
I can see he’s shocked. He didn’t expect that.
He looks at me as he collects himself. Then he smiles at me, it looks kind and grateful. I made him break character for a beautiful moment of connection.
Then he looks at Sandy. He looks at her face, at her hand. I’m not clear what’s passing between them.
And, I’ll be damned, she squirms in the chair and tries to cross her legs. She’s acting turned on. Does this really turn her on? Her whimpering moan confirms it.
And her right hand is clutching something tightly. I see it shake. That means something…
“That’s a good answer, Fucktoy. That’s how you should feel.” There’s kindness and gratitude in his eyes; he’s trying again not to break character, but I know he wants to say something else. “You know I want you. I want you badly. And tonight, I will have you. Sandy will watch as I take you andmake you mine. I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you hard.” He is looking at me with authoritative lust in his eyes.
And then he looks back at Sandy, who moans and squirms in her chair again. “I didn’t fuck Sandy tonight, Fucktoy. I saved it for you. You’re going to beg me for it.” And he looks back to me “Beg hard. Then I’m going to use you hard and you’re going to take it and thank me.”
His words have me so hot, I’m already ready to beg. This whole ordeal… and now we’re coming to the pièce de resistance. He’s going to fuck me. And I want him to! I’ve wanted it since that first night.
But the way he said that – he missed an opportunity. Sandy has to be antinizing in wonder about how attached we are. If I mean anything to him. And he hasn’t reassured her yet. He just missed an opportunity. Men are just stupid sometimes. Or, maybe he’s too nervous to think of all the angles.
Yeah, okay, so I am too.
But I see this one. This is my opportunityty. Maybe I can help Terry mend one little bridge with Sandy with a witness statement… “Oh, yes! Please, Sir. Please will you fuck me? You’ve never fucked me before. Never! Please will you fuck me in whatever slutty hole you like?”
God, did I just say that? Any hole? Where did those words come from? And… oh, no… I’ve never taken it in the ass before! I hope that’s not where tonight goes…
“Decorum, Fucktoy!” He looks angry. He gets another chair from the dining room and sits on it, again sideways to Sandy, and commands me, “over my lap, Fucktoy. You’re going to learn who’s the boss here.”
I practically cum on the spot being spoken to like that; this is like a dream, my fantasy. I crawl to him and draw myself over his lap, which means that my ass and pussy are now facing Sandy directly. How can she stand this?
I feel his erection under my belly. I don’t even have a safe word. I have no choices here, but in truth, I trust Terry. I don’t feel like I need one. I know what’s going to happ… ouch! He starts spanking me! He’s spanking me hard. It’s making me hot, but it hurts! And he keeps on…
“Sandy took this for me, Fucktoy and you will too. You need to learn who is the dominant around here.”
“You are, Sir!”
He stops spanking and quickly, he’s playing with my pussy. It feels so good that I start to understand on his lap. I’m so horny at this moment and it feels so – everything – that I am on the edge. I grind on his hand, wanting it to be more agressive. I feel a climax building quickly inside me; it’s going to be a big one. It won’t take long before he makes me cu…
Shit! And he stopped. “Oh, Sir! Please don’t stop. I was about to cum…”
“That’s my choice, not yours. I own your orgasms.” And he starts spanking me again, all over my butt, my tighs, my back “I own them, Fucktoy! This is all only to warm you up. Tell me who owns you.”
“You do, Sir. You own me… Eh! You own allof… ggg. . . all of me. Use me! Please, Sir!” Part of me wonders what’s happening here. What’s happening to me? But the fear, the lust, the denial, my feelings for Terry – they all wad up in a huge ball of emotion and cascade, fueled by my dam of repressed submissive feelings being burst. I can’t help myself.
He stops spanking and rubs my pussy again. I try again to grind on his hand, but he stops and slaps my aching butt, commanding “behave!” and restarts edging me. I’m moaning and begging, I can feel it building, but before I can cum, he stops again. Damn! My denial has fueled passages I didn’t know I have.
“I’ll be a good girl for you, Sir! I’ll do anything. Just please let me cum!” But now I feel something being rubbed on my butt. It feels like maybe a book, but that makes no sense. I assume it’s a paddle of some sort.
“Every strike I make, I want you to count, thank me and tell me I own you. Are you ready?”
I gulp, “yes, Sir.”
And the paddle comesdown and – wow, does it hurt! “Agggh! One. Thank you. You own me, Sir!”
“Not so loud. Keep it down or I’ll have to gag you. I have neighbors!”
More quietly, “Sorry, Sir! Ow! Two. Thank you, Sir! You own me.” He does. At this moment, he owns me. There is nothing in this universe but the two of us. No connection besides his lap, his erection which is a rock under my stomach, and the damn paddle.
“This is only a padded paddle. You know I have better instruments. You need to get used to this, because when I bring out the others, you’re going to have to take them too.”
That strikes a note of terror in me; which increases my feelings of helplessness, of submission. Three, four, five. I do the best I can. And then he edges me again. I am crying from the pain and the pleasure – from the fear and the excitement. It is all a blur. Again, he stops.
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Edging again. How can he be so cruel?
I love him! I do!
And he orders me to the floor.
I belong here. I am nothing but a stain on the rug, used and without a future. The only thing that keeps me from crying is Sir’s promise. He’s going to fuck me. Finally.
This is the real thing, isn’t it? I’m really in subspace. Every thought I have is about pleasure him. My emotions are so wrapped in this that it’s beyond password. It is a calming sense that if I do whatever Terry wants, that the universe will be OK.
He gets something from a box on the table with shreds of giftwrap still clinging to it. He walks to Sandy and knees between her legs. They’re looking at each other for an eternity – some secret message between lovers is being passed. I think I should be jealous, but I’m not. I’m happy for them. I don’t want to ruin them.
He’s not so stupid after all.
“Fucktoy, crawl over here and sit between Sandy’s legs.”
I crawl, happy to have a purpose. He moves out of my way and I sit.
He hands me a couple of metal objects with a chain between them. Oh, they’re nipple clamps!
“Put them on Sandy. Make them tight, Fucktoy.”
“Y… yes, Master… er… yes Sir.”
I put one on her, but I feel affinity for Sandy. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but I feel as if she’s like a… sister?… to me. So, I put it on, though only tightly enough to make it stay.
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