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Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 01

By: Scarlet_Pen



I first noticed Tamar about two minutes into the semester. Late for class, she flounced into my lecture theatre, smiled an apology and took a seat, while I reminded myself that one of the true joys of academic life was the chance to have the full attention of girls like her. 

She was eighteen - just - with long blonde hair, a bewitching smile on a face made to be wrapped around a cock, legs up to heaven, the tightest ass I'd ever seen, and cute, red-painted toenails on succulent feet. Yeah, I'm a foot man, so sue me.

Over the years I've learned two facts about incredibly gorgeous young things like Tamar. First , they inevitably know just how fucking hot they are and just how much most men will do to get into their panties. Second - and hallelujah - they see their university lecturers as a challenge. They can fuck pretty much any student they want, whenever they want, but to get a lecturer so hot that he'd put his career on the line to fuck them - now that is a worthy challenge.

I have never been immune to the game myself. I am under no illusions about my own attractiveness, of course. But if a hot little slut like Tamar is going to throw herself at me - well, I'm only human. I've enjoyed my share of student pussy over the years.

As the semester progressed, I watched and enjoyed Tamar's game of tease. Despite her youth, she was quite the expert, and seemed to instinctively recognise my foot fetish, so I was treated to a weekly parade of cute shoes, toenail polish and ankle bracelets, framed by ever-shortening skirts showing off those amazing legs, and brief tops putting her navel piercing and pert young tits on display. When my gaze settled on her and she caught my eye, she flashed me a delicious smile which said she knew exactly what I was looking at and why. The game was most definitely on.

For a while, though, I just enjoyed the view and did little more. She enjoyed putting on the show and I enjoyed watching, but she hadn't yet given any indication that she was doing anything more than just teasing. I'd seen her around campus a couple of times on the arm of a footballer, so it was most likely that he was the fuck and I was the tease. And hell, that was AOK by me.

All that changed though when the class assignments came in. Politics students had become notorious for cheating, and I had begun accepting assignments electronically and running them through Turnitin, a software program which scans the assignment and searches the web for identical wording. There were usually a couple of cheats each semester, and they earned a 'fail' and a solid talking-to. On this occasion, only student came up as a cheat. Wilson, Tamar.

At the end of the following lecture I left the graded papers along the front in alphabetical order and let the students grab their papers on the way out. Pretty soon, the only two left were Tamar and me.

She sauntered over, using her best sexy walk, perched on heels much too high for normal campus use, tits bouncing just so, liquid smile begging to be kissed. "Dr. Anderson, my paper doesn't seem to be in here."

I looked at her a little harshly. Not the infatuated lecturer she was expecting. "No, Tamar, there was a problem with your paper. I think you already know that. My office is room 315. Be there at three this afternoon." I watched with great satisfaction as a flicker of fear crossed her face, then I turned and left.

I enjoyed a leisurely lunch, savoring the anticipation more than the food. This little bitch was about to learn more from Dr. Anderson than she'd signed up for. By ten to three I was at my desk, pretending to be busy but actually rehearsing the afternoon in my mind. On a whim, I put my eye to the spyhole in my office door, and there she was, pacing the hallway outside, checking her watch every fifteen seconds or so.

She'd used the last few hours well. She'd changed into a ridiculously short sundress which put her ass and tits fully on display; she'd put on some sexy high heeled sandals which I happened to love, and she'd fixed her make-up perfectly. Clearly she expected to be able to fuck her way out of this one - and so she would, though not quite in the manner she was expecting. 

At precisely three, she knocked on the door, a tremulous, half-afraid knock. Looking through the keyhole, I waited and did not answer. Thirty seconds passed, and she knocked once more. Again, I declined to answer. As she was turning to leave, having decided I was not in, I opened the door. "Come in, Miss Wilson," I said.

She turned, biting her lip, and followed me into the office. I locked the door and took a seat behind my desk. I had removed the other chairs, leaving her with no option but to stand. She looked, and no doubt felt, just like a schoolgirl appearing before the principal.

"On the desk, Tamar, are two pieces of paper. One is your assignment. The other is an opinion piece written for the Melbourne Argus late last year. Both papers have a section highlighted. Read them and see if you can see any similarities."

She was biting her lip now and trying not to cry, but even doing this she was a coquette in full control of her charms. She made a cursory display of looking at the papers but she knew what they'd show as well as I did.

"You realise, of course, that I have no option but to expel you."

Crunch time, or so she thought. She moved in close, put her hand on my shoulder, and half-whispered "I'm sorry, Doctor. Truly I am. I really don't want to get expelled ... Isn't there some other way we could work this out?" To leave me in no doubt as to her proposal, she slowly ran her fingertips from my shoulder up to my hairline, just behind my ear. Damn, I wanted to just turn and kiss her, but that would have spoiled everything.

"Did you really think you could get out of this just by offering to fuck me, Tamar? You're cute, but not that cute."

Now she looked shocked, and the tears were real. "Come on, Doctor. You don't understand. My parents will kill me. I can't get expelled. Please, there's got to be something ... anything ... please?"

That was perfect. Time to spring the trap. I pulled a digital camera from my desk drawer. "Perhaps we can find a way, Tamar. But we're talking about more than just one quick fuck here. Understand?" Her nod was so pathetically grateful I could have laughed. But it was time for some fun.

"To begin with, Tamar, I want you standing on the desk." She looked at me like I was mad, but I insisted, and she scrambled up onto my chair and from there onto the desk, her high heels a real hindrance now. I took the camera and started snapping high-res photos of her as she mounted the table, followed by a couple of hot upskirt ones.

She looked at me in horror. "Are you some kind of pervert or something?"

I laughed. "Yes, Tamar, I am. More to the point, I'm the pervert who can have you thrown out of this university. Now, lose the dress and smile."

She was crying again as she removed her dress, unbuttoning a couple of the buttons then lifting it over her head, leaving her hair slightly mussed. I made her smile through the tears though, as I snapped photos of the incredible young body slowly becoming revealed to me.

Her ivory-colored bra and thong panties were clearly purchased for show and, frankly, they did a damned good job. My cock was straining the inside of my pants but it would have to wait a little while yet. "Keep going," I told Tamar. "The bra next."

She twisted her arms behind herself to unclasp her bra, her face flushed bright red with a delicious combination of humiliation, fear and anger. The bra dropped to the floor by my feet and I took some amazing photos of the tits she'd been teasing me with all semester long. "The panties, Tamar."

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her thong and eased them over her hips, letting them slip down to the desk where she stepped out of them, leaving her, naked but for her heels, perched on my desk, her head almost brushing the ceiling. She was perfect, her dark, trimmed pussy hair framing slick, slightly puffy pussy lips. I had her turn so I could set eyes on a flawless ass, heart-shaped and high, her asshole peeking down at me from her high position. I finally finished taking photos - I had maybe 40 - and set the camera down.

Walking to Tamar, I began by caressing the cheeks of that wonderful ass, feeling her shudder with fear, pleasure or both as I ran a finger down her asscrack and over her anus. Taking her by the hips I turned her towards me, and slipped two fingers very easily into one very tight yet very aroused young pussy. "I think you're enjoying this more than you'd like to admit, Tamar," I said. She whimpered slightly as my thumb found her clit and I began working her both inside and out.

I had her kneel, now, on all fours on the desk. More photos of the fantastic view from behind, then I leaned in and began to eat. Long, slow licks at first, outside her pussy, licking away stray moisture, licking up and down her lips as she reached back and began gently rubbing her clit. Her hips were working, now, moving in tight circles and pressing back gently against my face. At last, my tongue found its way inside her, parting her lips and tasting her from the source. So young, so fresh, so utterly delicious.

Her moans were more urgent now as her fingers and my tongue between them brought her closer to climax. Such pretty moans, somewhere between begging and whimpering and low, guttural moans of pure sex. Then, suddenly, she tipped over the edge into orgasm, the humiliation of her position forgotten in the intensity of the moment. She ground her pussy back into my face, riding the sensation as long as she could, before it became too much, and she fell forward onto my desk, a wet quivering mess (and another beautiful photo).

I gave her a couple of minutes to recover, but we weren't done yet. After all, turnabout is fair play. "Kneel down on the floor, Tamar," I said, "and pull my cock out."

She took a moment to respond, but slid from the desk and found herself kneeling on her dress and carefully undoing my trousers, easing them down and slipping off my boxer shorts. I had been hard for ages, and was dripping pre-cum like a fire hose. Not needing any instructions, Tamar began licking the length of my cock, closing that pretty little mouth over the head for just a moment at the top of each stroke.

After a minute or so she paused mid-lick. "Dr Anderson, I really, really don't like to swallow cum? Must I?"

I laughed. She'd been a good girl overall, and I had other plans anyway. "Just keep sucking," I told her. She attacked my cock now, taking it into her mouth and sucking hard up and down the shaft. Looking down I was treated to the amazing sight of her model-gorgeous face, pouty lips wrapped around my cock, eyes still looking up at me, begging not to have to swallow. 

My moans grew more intense now as I entered those final moments when orgasm is inevitable, my whole body straining for release. At the last possible second, I pulled my cock from her mouth and sprayed jets of cum onto that pretty young face. She tried to pull away but I held her in place, adding a second, a third, a fourth string of cum. 

When I was done, she looked around for a tissue, but I had her pose, smiling, for several great facial shots before allowing her to clean up and dress. She was crying again, such pretty tears. "So we're even now? You won't expel me?"

I laughed softly. "I won't expel you, Tamar, but we're far from even. You see, I have these photographs." I held up the camera and enjoyed her stricken look. "Unless you want these to begin appearing in some unusual places online, or, say, at your father's workplace, then I'd say it's in your interests to come when I call, fuck where, when and how I demand, and generally do as you're told. Wouldn't you agree?"

She was furious but beaten. "You fucking bastard," she whispered. I could only agree.

Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 02



This is a self-contained story, so you don't need to have read chapter 1 ... but if you like this one, why not go back and take a look!

~~

Two weeks had passed since I had commenced blackmailing Tamar and had decorated her gorgeous young face with cum. During those two weeks I had made no effort to contact her, and had only seen her in class.

Why the delay? Obviously what I really wanted to do was drag the bitch off to my cave every evening and fuck her within an inch of her life. But waiting made sense. First, it gave me time to think and plan. One mistake, one momentary lapse, could turn the tables and find me, at her mercy, with my career - and maybe a jail term - on the line. So I'd carefully backed up Tamar's photo shoot, keeping copies for myself and also parking copies on a server overseas. I thought carefully about how to communicate with Tamar without giving the game away - leaving behind no trail of emails, text messages or phone records.

The delay was also useful for throwing Tamar off balance. She was a beautiful young woman. Incredibly sexy, and completely in my thrall, so she too expected to be used regularly, if not daily. Strangely, I think she may have even been affronted that, having caught her, I wasn't taking every chance I could to use her. 

She turned up to the first lecture after her blackmail began, dressed far more demurely than previously. Jeans, sneakers, a slightly baggy t-shirt, little make-up. Enough to say "I'm not teasing you any more, Anderson." I actually rather liked the defiance - and besides, I had recent memories and recent photographs of that gorgeous body naked, and those succulent lips wrapped around my cock. She's looked at me expectantly all lecture, waiting for a reaction. I ignored her, and surreptitiously observed her growing confusion.

At the end of the lecture she waited a minute or so, letting the crowds clear, giving me a chance to pull her up. She seemed to expect it somehow. I ignored her, pretending to be busy with my papers, and she left, smiling hopefully. I could almost read the little whore's mind. "I'm free," she was thinking. "Anderson has lost his nerve, I've gotten away with cheating on my paper, and all it cost me was a blowjob."

Today, she walked into my lecture positively glowing with victory. Another week had passed without contact. She was back in a skirt, tight little top, cute shoes. Far from her sluttiest effort, but confident enough to show off a little. Silly bitch. I got on with the lecture, working through my material on voting systems, giving Tamar about a third of my eye contact, looking at her directly, staring into her eyes. 

The first time our eyes met, there was a satisfying flicker of uncertainty on her face. "He's not ignoring me now. Why not?" The second time, she bravely tried to hold my gaze and stare me down, but averted her eyes after just a few seconds. The third time, uncertainty had been replaced by fear. She spent much of the lecture looking straight down at her notebook, occasionally lifting her eyes but fearfully dropping them again whenever my gaze took her. I suspect she didn't learn too much about voting systems.

At the end of the lecture, I had another surprise for her. I wound up my summary, then asked "Is Tamar Wilson here today?" Students looked around and began packing their bags as she raised her hand. She was biting her lip nervously - she knew something was up. "Tamar, I have the papers you requested, if you'd like to come by my office and pick them up, say, at one o'clock?" She nodded, looking pale faced and trying not to cry. Without another look, I left the theatre.

One o'clock rolled around, and a soft knock at my door announced Tamar. I opened the door, smiling pleasantly enough to fool any passers-by. Tamar stood there with two friends. My own private porno star thought she could put me off by bringing reinforcements, did she?

"Can I have those papers please, Doctor?" Her impish, triumphant grin was both gorgeous ... and misplaced.

"Of course you can, Tamar. Please come in for a moment." I lifted my gaze to her friends. "I'm sure these young ladies won't mind waiting."

It was that easy. She took a deep breath and walked into my office, sitting in one of my chairs. I closed and locked the door then crossed the office, unceremoniously lifting her top to get access to her breasts. She suppressed a squeal as I did so, and suppressed another when I gripped her nipples firmly through her bra. My voice was low, soft and menacing. "Nice try, little slut. Did you really think your friends would stop me? Shall I go let them in to watch?"

She stiffened and shook her head silently. I twisted her nipples for emphasis, feeling her squirm under my grip. "Don't ever play games with me, slut. You present yourself where, when, and how I say ... Or plenty of people get copies of my screen saver." Tamar looked over to my computer screen, to see herself, naked in her heels, standing on the desk. A few seconds later there she was, smiling through a layer of cum.

She was beaten. "I understand, sir," she whispered.

"For your sake, Tamar, I sincerely hope you do. You can prove it by turning up at my place tonight. Be there at eight, and be dressed like a street hooker. You're certainly going to be used like one." She stood and left, battling tears.

By eight o'clock I was pacing the floor of my apartment so much you'd have thought it was me being blackmailed. I'd stripped my bed back to the (new) sheets, tied ropes to each leg of the bed, and tucked a box of toys and tricks out of sight but easily accessible. The lights were dim, and a scented candle burned on a table to one side. OK, OK, I recognise that little romantic touches were out of place given that I was about to use Tamar like so much slutmeat, but I did it anyway.

She knocked quietly on the door, and I flicked on my security camera. Excellent - she was alone. I slipped a note under the door, close to her feet, and watched the monitor as she bent to pick it up. "Take off your top, and wait," she read.

Truth be told, her top wasn't hiding much anyway. It was a black, satin-like fabric, halter neck, plunging down her front to a knot above her navel. Her cleavage was fully exposed, and only luck was keeping her nipples hidden. There was, however, a world of difference between strutting about in a scandalous top, and standing topless in the hallway of my apartment block. Tamar stood, wrestling with her own thoughts for fully thirty seconds before she took a deep breath and unknotted her top, slipping it from her shoulders and into her handbag. In the end, as she seemed to realise, she didn't have a lot of choice.

I only left her standing there for a minute or so, but to her it no doubt felt like hours. She crossed her arms over her breasts and scanned the hallway constantly, her ears straining either for the sounds of movement in my apartment or the soft tone which announced the elevator. When the moment was right, I opened the door and let her in.

She virtually raced into my apartment, pushing past me, her breasts brushing against my arm. I laughed. "Good evening, Tamar. Thank you for coming."

She didn't answer for a moment. Eventually, softly, she said "I didn't really have a choice, did I?"

"No, Tamar, you didn't. And the stunt you pulled by bringing your friends along to my office just pissed me off. Not a good move. Follow me."

I led her into the living room and had her stand, hands on her hips, in the middle of the room. Looking at her, I whistled softly. She was nothing short of stunning. I stood behind her, close against her, and reached around to cup her breasts, my fingers finding their way to her nipples more gently than earlier, caressing them, kneadiing them softly, stroking the curve of her breast. I moved my hips forward, my hardening cock pressing into her ass. 

Hate me she might, but Tamar was responding to the caress of my fingers on her nipples. I moved around and dropped to one knee, taking her left nipple in my mouth, sucking softly. She tried to be cold, just enduring me, but her body gave her away. She moved against my mouth just so, and soon a soft cooing sound, too soft to be a proper moan escaped her. I smiled to myself and pulled away. The evening was still young.

I flicked a button on my CD player and slow, sultry jazz began to fill the room. Tamar watched as I picked up my camera and smiled. "Strip for me, whore. Slowly, sensually. And remember to smile."

Smile? She scowled. "I'm no whore!"

"Of course you're not. After all, I'm going to fuck you for free. Now start dancing."

Stripping to music is much harder than it looks, or so I've been told. Tamar started moving her hips to the music, closing her eyes (no doubt to forget where she was) and gyrating softly to the beat. Her breasts swayed softly, gently, enticingly. I sat back and watched, snapping the occasional photo to add to my collection.

After a minute or so, still swaying gently, she reached for the catch on her skirt, then eased it down over her hips. Her skirt dropped, a puddle of soft black fabric at her feet, and she stepped to one side, still dancing.

I continued to snap photographs as she danced, down now to her panties and heels. Of course, a little slut like her probably shouldn't have had panties on in the first place, but these particular panties - in truth little more than lace and string - served to emphasise rather than to hide her succulent young cunt. A few bars more music, then she shot me a look of pure venom and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. They fell to the ground, where I souvineered them. They smelt amazing.

"Hey!" she said. "They're mine!"

I laughed. "Tell you what, Tamar. You can collect them during next week's lecture if you like. That is, if you don't mind your classmates knowing you are a complete slut."

For the third time today, she looked utterly defeated. I loved it.

Standing next to her, I cupped my hand against Tamar's perfect ass, steering her into the bedroom with a push. She snorted when she saw the candles. "You expecting somebody?"

SLAP

The slap I delivered to her ass produced more noise than pain - and surprised the hell out of her, judging by her jump and squeal. "You should watch the sassiness, Tamar," I said softly. "A little can be sexy ... But bad girls get spanked. Now, lay on your back on the bed."

She was beyond resisting now, and compliantly lay down on the bed. I closed her eyes with my fingertips, then drew up the nearest rope. Her eyes shot open when she realised what I was up to, but it was really too late for her to do anything about it. When that wrist was securely bound, I closed her eyes again, and bound the other. This time she managed to keep her eyes closed.

Moving down to her ankles, I watched her surreptitiously testing the wrist ropes, her long fingers trying to find some purchase on the knots, her wrists twisting against their bondage. She soon realised her efforts were fruitless, but it didn't stop her trying.

With Tamar's ankles firmly bound, I found myself just inches from the sexy feet she'd teased me with for all those weeks. Time for some fun. I leaned in close, drinking in the scent of her feet, then touching my tongue to her toes, licking over the scarlet-coloured nails, sliding my tongue down into the crevasse beside her big toe. It tickled, and she squirmed, but she seemed determined not to laugh. I didn't give a fuck - I was in heaven.

My lips traced the tender flesh of her instep, sucking and biting gently, down to her heel, then back up to her toes, where I feasted some more.

Needless to say by this time my cock was completely hard and begging for attention. I slipped out of my clothes and began painting the soles of her feet with my cock, tracing lines of pre-cum all over them. It was so hot, the sensitive head of my cock against the soft skin of her feet. 

In danger of cumming suddenly, I stood and had Tamar smile sweetly as I snapped away several more photos. I had quite a collection by now. 

Setting the camera aside, I crawled onto the bed and began licking and kissing my way up her long, tanned legs. Tamar had dropped any pretence of resistance now, and was beginning to find ways to enjoy herself. My attention to her toes had turned her on more than she would care to admit. By the time I reached her sweet, trimmed pussy, she was sopping wet and breathing deeply.

With my tongue, I traced my way up and down Tamar's labia, licking away the juices of her arousal. I love to eat pussy, and this was some pussy - fresh, sweet, young somehow. Parting her lips with my tongue, I licked my way further inside, darting my tongue into her. Tamar was moaning openly now, her hips pressing her pussy up towards my face. This was not, at a guess, something her footballer lovers bothered with terribly often.

I found her clit, pressed my lips around it and sucked firmly, drawing the surrounding flesh into my mouth, flicking her clit directly with my tongue. The reaction was amazing - as though a switch had been tripped Tamar bucked upwards, her legs working in little spasms as an unexpected and intense orgasm hit her. I stayed on her clit for a few moments after she became too sensitive and began begging me to stop. 

My turn. I crawled up her body, pausing to firmly suck each nipple on the way, until we were face to face. Leaning down, I kissed her pretty young face, my tongue pressing into her mouth. To my surprise she yielded without a fight and even seemed to kiss me back. I eased my cock into position at the entrance to her cunt and slid in, smoothly and easily, still kissing her.

She was just as incredible inside as she was outside - firm, tight, yet so wet that stroking in and out of her silky cunt was an ease. I established a steady rhythm, resting up on my elbows, watching her pretty young face, eyes closed, contorting with each thrust. A little faster now, a little harder. I could feel the cum rising in my cock. 

Faster. Pounding the slut now. Her eyes snapped open suddenly. "Please ..." she moaned, "not inside ... I'm not on the pill. Please?"

Fortunately for her I had no intention of coming inside her. At the last possible moment I pulled out, groaning like a man in pain, and came hard, my cock pulsing and blowing cum over her pussy and thighs, matting up her pubic hair into a sticky, sexy mess. Several more photos were added to my collection as soon as I recovered enough to think straight.

I released her from the ropes and followed her back out to the living room where she dressed silently and walked towards the door. Poised on the threshold, she turned back and surprised the hell out of me. "You're still a complete fucking asshole," she said, "but that was the best orgasm I've ever had."



Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 03



It's quite amazing what a young woman can get used to if she must. Tamar, gorgeous blonde prom-princess turned academic cheat, still resented her position as my fuck-puppet, but as the weeks passed and I used her time and again, her hatred dimmed and quiet acceptance set in. We had established something of a routine: three nights a week (but more if I felt like it) Tamar arrived at my home, dressed like a whore, and submitted to being fucked senseless for a couple of hours.

There had been some minor changes. Her pussy hair was gone now, her toes were painted only in shades which I liked, she wore an anklet I had bought to decorate her with, and she had long since gotten over her aversion to swallowing my cum. All in all, life was good and I was getting the best sex I'd ever had.

Problem was, the initial thrill of chasing and capturing this delicious young filly had faded along with her resistance. Her acquiescence removed the edge of danger from our encounters. The sex was fantastic, but Tamar was getting too comfortable. So was I, for that matter. I didn't want a lover or girlfriend, I wanted a helpless whore, submitting to my whims because she had no other choice. Tonight, it was time to ramp things up a little.

I had borrowed a video camera from work - if tonight was as hot as I expected, it would be a movie to be replayed time and again - and set it up in the living room, ready for phase one. Now, all I had to do was wait.

Tamar was nothing if not punctual - I don't think she wanted to find out what would happen if she was late - so at precisely eight, the elevator bell sounded out in the hall, and the clacking cadence of a pair of extremely slutty high heels made their way towards my door.

As I had done the very first time she attended me, I left her to wait for a minute or so after she rang my doorbell. She knew I was there, and knew I was probably watching. Every few seconds her gaze flicked involuntarily towards my security camera, her face reflecting an oddly fetching combination of fear and impatience. I smiled softly. It was good to see her afraid again.

I opened the door and stood in the doorway, smiling with what I hoped was an evil glint in my eye. "Are you pantiless and freshly shaved as instructed, Tamar?"

"Of course."

"Show me."

Another satisfying flash of fear passed over her face. "You want me to lift my skirt right here?"

"No, Tamar. I want you to take it off completely."

Fear turned momentarily to outrage, which in turn became embarrassment. Her hand went to the waistband of her skirt and unfastened the button and zipper. Her skirt fell, leaving her naked from navel to shoes. She stepped forward, apparently trying to get past me to the relative safety of my apartment. I shifted, blocking her way. "No, Tamar, not until I check."

She was desperate to get inside now. "Please, Dr. Anderson? For fuck's sake, you can see I've done as you said. Please let me in?"

Ignoring her pleas, I had Tamar stand with her hands on her head and slowly turn around, first showing me her succulent pink cunt, lips slightly splayed, inviting play, already touched with the moisture of her unwilling arousal; and her incredible ass, so smooth, so taut, so perfectly curved, tight enough to hide away her tiny asshole. I spanked her once, firmly on the ass, then stood aside. "You may go inside now, Tamar."

She virtually pushed me over on her way inside, such was her rush. Excellent - not feeling so comfortable now, are we slut?

Safely in the living room, Tamar looked around uncertainly. She had noticed the video camera, and was already off balance. I didn't want to give her a chance to regain her composure. Taking her by the shoulder I led her to a small red mat I had placed on the floor, in perfect position for the camera. "Stand on the mat, smile at the camera and strip, slut."

She took a deep breath and complied, flashing a sweet-but-fake smile for the camera and shrugging out of her top. No sexy gyrations or stripper's flourishes this time - but that was fine, her reluctance was getting me off. Soon she was bare, with her clothes set down to one side and her arms by her side. A muscle in her shoulder twitched ... she was aching to fold her arms over her breasts, but she knew I would be far from impressed if she did.

Yet again I feasted my eyes on the gorgeous young body I had at my disposal. Fucking amazing. And I could use her any way I liked. I started by unfolding a long strip of black velvet which I had obtained especially for tonight. Her head flinched away from me as I began wrapping it around her, binding her eyes, enveloping her in darkness. 

When I felt sure she was properly blindfolded I tied off the velvet then, standing in front of her, aimed a full-blooded punch at her nose. I pulled the punch short, but Tamar didn't even flinch. She couldnt see a thing.

I stepped away again, and returned momentarily with a set of bright silver handcuffs. These were no sex-shop toys. They were the real deal, bought under the counter from a hard core bondage store. I took Tamar's wrists and crossed them in front of her navel, snapping the cold metal bracelets onto her. She bit her lips and I thought I saw a tear trace its way down her cheek from the bottom of her blindfold, but otherwise she was silent.

I left her there for a few moments and stepped behind my video camera, losing my clothing along the way. I zoomed in and panned slowly up, then back down Tamar's impossibly perfect young body, blindfolded, handcuffed, vulnerable, and oh so sexy. I let the camera linger on her fingers, just inches above her bare cunt, trying to find the catches on the cuffs, looking for a way out. Her efforts, completely futile of course, were a turn-on to watch.

Setting the camera just right, I walked back to my bound and apprehensive victim, turning her away from the camera and putting her spectacular ass on display. 

I left her there for a few moments while I retrieved a black marker pen I had set down nearby. So far, everything was going according to plan.

Across Tamar's back, in neat black letters which could easily be read on camera, I wrote ''I'm about to lose my anal virginity." My secret was out ... sort of.

Tamar squirmed from the unusual sensation of the pen's felt tip on her back. ''What are you writing? What does it say? Oh, fuck, will it come off?" Needless to say I didn't answer - she'd find out when the time was right.

A short interlude followed, while I moved the camera to my bedroom to record her deflowering. I marched her, still cuffed and blindfolded, to my bed, and had her kneel, raising her ass high. It was uncomfortable for her, balancing on her elbows, trying to find a way to stop her cuffs from digging in ... and, of course, wondering what was going to happen next.

She worked it out pretty quickly, I'll give her that. I squirted some lube (yes lube, I'm an asshole not a sadist) onto a finger and started rubbing it around the entrance to her ass, parting her cheeks to reveal her tight, pink, wrinkled little hole. No sooner had I begun rubbing in the lube than she realised. She started crying. "Oh, shit, you're going to fuck my ass. Please, Doctor. Please, please don't. I've never had anything in there. I can't take this. Please?"

I responded in a soft, calm, utterly determined voice. "I am going to do this, Tamar. I don't care how much it hurts, or how much you cry. I am going to fuck your ass."

She buried her head in the bed and continued sobbing as I lubed a finger and slowly, firmly pressed it to her asshole. She resisted at first, but nobody can clench their asscheeks forever, and eventually my finger was fully inside her, the first thing ever to penetrate her ass.

As soon as she felt my finger ease past the ring of muscle at the entrance to her ass she clamped down again desperately, but it was a losing battle. Slowly, my finger worked its way in and out, dilating the muscle. She began opening up for me. At the other end Tamar continued to put on a show, sobbing softly and whimpering. "Ow, ow, oh fuck ..." It was music to my ears.

I withdrew my finger and smiled as her ass remained ever so slightly open for me. Time for the real thing. I gently rubbed some lube onto my cock, which was harder than I remember in ages, and knelt behind her.

I teased her with my cock, rubbing the head up and down her asscrack, over her small pink hole. She continued to whimper, prettily but incoherently. At last, I rested the head of my cock at her asshole and eased my hips forward. Initially, her ass resisted, holding me out. I started pumping my hips, slowly but firmly, pressing into her fractionally further each time.

Damn, she was tight. It was fantastic. Her sexy ass, her little sobs of fear, her cuffed hands. At last, the muscle reached the point of no return and my cock pressed past the entrance, suddenly plunging deep inside her ass. Tamar responded with an ear-splitting scream, shaking her ass like a stripper to try to get me away. I held on and rode her, keeping my cock firmly inside as her initial pain subsided.

I started thrusting, slowly at first, then with more vigour and less rhythm, holding her hips and pulling them to me. It had been a long time since I'd taken a girl anally ... such sexy tightness, squeezing my cock; her ass gripped me in a way that a pussy could never do.

She was still crying, but because of the violation and humiliation, not the pain. "Do you want some nice warm cum in your ass, Tamar?"

"Nooooo!" she wailed.

Still thrusting into her, I slapped one of her asscheeks hard. "Wrong answer! Try again."

"Fuck you, OK, I want your cum in my ass."

I laughed. "Ask nicely."

Through gritted teeth, her voice a mix of pain and shame and hatred, she spoke. "Please cum in my ass."

That was enough for me. I bucked into her ass like an animal - no finesse, just need - and yelled, "Fuck yes!" Groaning, I came deep in her ass and kept thrusting, looking down to watch the cum dribbling from her ass, coating my cock. Amazing.

I pulled out, and uncuffed the poor slut. She slumped on the bed, aching. I slumped down beside her, and found myself smiling into the lens of my camera, still faithfully recording the action. Now that was a movie I wanted to see.



Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 04



Tamar, my own private slut, was delicious. I loved to eat her, just as I was doing right now, licking in slow, lazy licks up and down her outer lips, then opening her with my tongue to gently paint her inner, sensitive flesh with soft strokes. She wasn't moaning yet, just cooing. Hopeful, aroused little sounds, sounds which said she was desperately hoping I wouldn't stop there. She'd long ago admitted to loving the way I ate her ... Even blackmail had its upside.

I didn't stop there, but descended slightly, licking just inside the entrance to her pussy, licking the dew from her. She still tasted clean, fresh and young. I made a point with my tongue and slid it into her, dragging my tongue against the roof of her pussy as I drew it back out. The taste was overpowering now, and she was producing pussydew faster than I could lick it up. My chin, my cheeks, were slick with her juices.

I let my tongue slide up and out of her, seeking out the sweet button of her clit. I circled it with my tongue, slow lazy sweeping circles which honed in bit by bit. Tamar's legs began shaking and, without thinking, she wrapped them around me, her body begging me to keep going, to push her over the edge. She was groaning properly now, incoherent but utterly sexy. 

I continued working on her clit, sucking it gently now, listening to her body as she drew closer and closer to the moment of orgasm. Nearly there. So close. She stiffened momentarily, her whole body poised for orgasm, and I lifted up and away from her, sliding up her quickly, my mouth covering hers to stifle her frustrated whimper. My cock found her open, wet, pussy and slid inside, pumping her hard.

That was all she needed. With a squeal she came hard, the muscles of her pussy constricting around me, milking my cock. She had just started to come down from the peak of her orgasm when mine struck. Holding her firmly and groaning with pleasure, I unloaded cum deep inside her. Spent, I withdrew, enjoying the sight of her young body splayed across my bed, a thin trace of cum oozing from her pussy. Fantastic.

The following morning, I was at home working. I had a conference paper due, and the university had too many distractions. Several times my fingers had itched towards the phone to call Tamar and tell her to get her pretty little ass over here, but I had avoided temptation thus far. I was settled in front of the computer and actually making progress when the doorbell rang.

Puzzled, I went to the door and looked through the spyhole. A beautiful, conservatively but fashionably dressed woman in her early forties stood outside. Shoulder-length blonde hair; fine featured face; a hint of make-up. I'd never seen her before and had no idea who she might be. I opened the door.

"May I help you?"

She didn't smile, but fixed me with a coldly polite stare. "Dr Anderson?"

I nodded and she continued. "My name is Veronica Wilson. I'm Tamar's mother. And I know exactly what you've been doing with my daughter."

Oh, fuck.

My entire career flashed before my eyes. If she really did know, then I was history. And she must know ... else why would she be here? That fucking little bitch Tamar!

After panicking for a split second, I got a hold of myself. Let's get her inside. Find out what she knows, and how, and what she's planning to do about it. Best case scenario she'll just demand that I stay the hell away from her daughter. "Mrs Wilson, perhaps this is a conversation better held in private. Please come in."

She assented grudgingly, looking down her nose at me like I was a worthless piece of shit. She sat on The couch, in the very spot I had often bent her daughter over to fuck her pussy or ass from behind. I used those few moments to think hard. Get her talking, I decided. Think. Find out what she knows.

"Could you tell me what this is all about, Mrs Wilson?"

She sneered imperiously. Even angry, she was beautiful. A cold, angry beauty, very different to that of her daughter. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

I shrugged. "Not until you tell me."

She arched an eyebrow, unamused, and pulled a small book from her bag. Tamar's diary, apparently. She opened it at one of several flagged pages and began reading in a cold, matter-of-fact voice entirely unsuited to the subject matter.

March 26

Back to A's place tonight. It was amazing. He ate me till I screamed then took me twice, the second time in my butt. It's insane. I don't like him at all, I've never consented to a single thing he's done , but I sit around waiting, even hoping for him to call. I've stopped dating guys from college now - a ten minute bang in some fetid dorm room can't compete. I can't work it out one bit.

Tamar's mother stopped reading and I suppressed a grin which threatened to crack my face despite the circumstances. After all, it's not every day an eighteen year old girl writes that you've ruined her for other guys. Mrs Wilson remained silent, apparently waiting for a response.

I took a deep breath and smiled as condescendingly as I dared. I had a plan. "Mrs Wilson, I'm sorry that you've been put through this. This sort of thing happens from time to time. A girl has her favourite actor, he favourite singer, and her favourite lecturer. But only the lecturer is reachable. What you're reading there," I nodded towards the diary, "is a fantasy. She'll be over it by exam time. Meanwhile, I suspect it might be wise to refrain from reading her diary."

My Dad once told me never to underestimate the deviousness of women. He was right.

Tamar's mother struggled to control the anger rising in her. Her face was slightly mottled red and her nostrils flared. She spoke in a low voice. "Yesterday, Dr. Anderson, I followed Tamar when she left for university. She drove here. She got out of her car, dressed like a prostitute, and came up to your apartment. Need I continue?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was thinking fast now, holding off panic. What the hell could I say? A few moment's silence followed, but a sudden flash came to my mind. There was still a way to win. I stood, and dropped the 'polite professor' pose.

"Allright, Veronica. So now you know. And you've raced down here to save the day. Tell me, why do you think your daughter, who writes there that she doesn't even like me, keeps coming here?"

She tried gamely to stand up to me. "I have absolutely no idea. But it must stop. Immediately."

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. You see, Veronica, Tamar keeps coming back here because there are certain ... consequences ... if she does not."

"What do you mean, consequences?"

"Let me show you." Veronica sat primly as I booted up my computer and opened a directory containing some of my many Tamar pics. I asked her over to my desk, and she stood behind me. On the screen, Tamar was smiling at the camera, apparently carefree and happy, dressed in a tight, short black skirt, red satin top, stockings and heels. I flicked through the first few poses quickly, and by the fifth or sixth, Tamar had lost her top and bra. As I continued to advance the pics, she stripped.

Veronica became more and more pale with each passing picture. By the time Tamar displayed a rather large purple dildo and began riding it, her mother was shaking with ... fear? expectation? anger? I shut off the screen.

"Now, Veronica, Tamar wants these pictures kept private. And she knows that, for as long as she continues to be my on-call slut, she is safe."

Veronica hissed. "How ... DARE ... you?"

I laughed. "I dare, Veronica. That's all that matters. And I've kept my end of the bargain until tonight, when you had to butt in."

She was still shaking. "How can we make you go away?"

"You can't, Veronica. This situation will go on for as long as I decide. And the moment I am discovered, the moment my job or security is placed in jeopardy, these pictures - and several hours of videotape - go on the internet and to selected people in this community. So I'll be ruined ... but so will Tamar. And you."

She sank back into the chair, sobbing quietly. Time to raise the stakes. "Until today, Veronica, things were going nicely. But now, Tamar has been stupid enough to keep a diary; you've been intrusive enough to read it; and you have also been stupid enough to come in here making demands. You've brought yourself into this situation. So now, you too have a choice. Either you join your daughter as another of my obedient little tarts, or I ruin your life. What will it be?"

She looked up, teary eyes wide with shock. "You can't possibly be serious!"

I gave her a hard, nasty look. "Very serious, Veronica."

"Can't I just go? I'm unhappy about Tamar ... miserable ... but I don't want to be part of this. Please let me go. Please?"

No chance. My expression didn't alter, and my voice remained soft but determined. "Either you remove your blouse and bra right now, Veronica, or I go over to that computer there and show your daughter to the world. You decide, but do it quickly."

She remained still, looking at me intently, searching for any hint of lenience, any chink in my armour. She found none, even though inside I was quivering with nerves. Slowly, she turned away, crying softly as her fingers found her buttons and undid them one by one. Still facing away, she slid the top off and unclipped her bra.

"Turn around, Veronica."

She turned, arms crossed over her breasts, and found herself staring down the barrel of my camera lens. I snapped a photo before she could react - and react she did, spinning away from me with a yelp.

"Turn back to me, Veronica. Hands by your sides."

Trembling, she slowly turned, took a deep breath, and lowered her hands. I took another photograph then set the camera aside. That was enough evidence for blackmail - time to have some fun. I took a long look at my new slut. Slightly larger, fuller breasts than Tamar's. Veronica's tits were ripe, where Tamar's were pert. Little fat nipples promoted from dark areolas. Not bad at all. 

I reached for them, gently sliding my thumbs over the nipples, feeling them harden at my touch. Her breathing deepened, and I suddenly realised the sobbing had subsided. I sat on the couch and drew her to me, standing between my knees. My head craned upwards slightly, and I took her left nipple into my mouth, sucking softly. The deeper breathing continued; the only sign she was enjoying this.

I let her nipple go and asked "How long since hubby played with these, Veronica?"

"None of your damned business"

I chuckled. "I should call and ask him."

She panicked. "Months. It's been months."

Without another word I resumed sucking her nipples, teasing them bad. After a while, I used one free hand to unzip my pants, and slipped them down my legs. My cock was fully erect - I'd been having fun.

"Kneel down, Veronica."

She shook her head. "No way ... I haven't had one of those things in my mouth since high school."

I laughed. She still didn't get it. For a moment I contemplated grabbing her by the ears and fucking her face, just to show her who was in charge. I decided to stick to the plan. I took her by the shoulders and, with a gentle downward pressure, forced her to her knees. Veronica eyed my cock, just inches from her face, with distaste, maybe even disgust.

"Use your hands to press your breasts together, Veronica."

She was puzzled but she complied, her full breasts forming a channel custom-designed for my cock. I leaned her towards me and slid my shaft between her tits, pre-cum lubricating them quickly. This was hot. Veronica seemed shocked, and, looking down, came face to face with the flared tip of my cock. Realising where my cum would go when I blew, she looked vaguely sick. I didn't care.

I began pumping her tits with more vigour now. I had the angle and rhythm right. My hands were on the slut's shoulders, guiding her into position, holding her in place, emphasising that she was being forced, used, taken. My cock felt fantastic between her globes, the soft curves of her body giving just the right stimulation. Her sick humiliation, and the sheer fact that I was also fucking her daughter, added spice. 

I began moaning softly, my breath getting ragged. It was harder and harder to maintain my rhythm. Felt so good. Faster. Soft moans getting more intense as the feeling of orgasm rose in my cock ... close ... close ... now!

As my cock emerged and reached the highest point of its thrust I came, spurting cum up onto her chin and neck. I kept thrusting, cumming on her chest, and between her tits where my cock rubbed it in. Veronica recoiled slightly and I heard the word "gross" but she was sensible enough not to let her tits go.

Spent, I pulled away, and looked with satisfaction at the picture before me. This prim and proper bitch, who had turned up here with every intention of breaking my balls, instead found herself kneeling on my floor and covered in cum. I grabbed my camera and took another photo, then allowed Veronica to stand. 

She cleaned herself up with a tissue, shot me a look of absolute venom, dressed and left. We both knew she'd be back soon. 



Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 05



Tamar mewled and grunted as she pushed her hot little ass back at me, impaling her sweet young pussy harder and harder onto my cock with each thrust. All she wore was a few ruined scraps of lace which had recently been her panties, and her "doggystyle" high heels, which we knew from past experience would elevate her pussy to the perfect height for rear entry. I had begun this fuck my way, grabbing the little slut by her ponytail and forcing her down over the couch ... but it had pretty quickly become obvious that Tamar wanted to be used as much as I wanted to use her. Now, all I had to do was stand firm, and let her fuck herself hard with my cock.

By now, while Tamar was still my fuckslave – make no mistake about that! – she had abandoned any pretense of reluctance. Whereas I had once punished her by forcing her to suck my cock and drink my cum, I now punished her by threatening not to let her visit for a week. She was no longer the college princess ... she was truly a whore for me.

I watched her young body moving back and forth, plunging back onto my cock, relishing the tight-yet-slick grasp of her pussy. This was the fucking life. But I could make it better – I was still in charge. I raised my right hand and waited until I caught the rhythm of Tamar's ass. At the right moment ... SLAP! I brought my hand down onto her, hard, leaving a pale handprint which quickly reddened and left a trace of broken capillaries. Tamar bruised easily, and healed quickly. The perfect combination. At the first slap she shot forward, squealing, one hand instinctively reaching back to protect herself.

"Did anyone say to stop fucking, whore?"

She bit her lip and began sliding on my cock again, more tentatively than before, waiting with each stroke for another hard slap. I let her go for a dozen or so strokes before obliging, harder than before, on the other cheek ... SLAP! Another squeal, followed this time by a sob. She wasn't terribly good with pain, and this was enough to get her crying. Beautiful. 

The tears were too nice to waste, so I pulled Tamar back by the hips until she was kneeling on the ground, still facing the couch. I sat down before her, my cock rising up towards her pouting lips as her tongue darted out to intercept a salty tear which had made its way down her cheek. I guided her head to the tip of my cock and she opened her mouth, taking me slowly inside. If there's anything sexier than the sight of a girl crying softly as she sucks your cock, I don't know what it is. She sank her head down over my cock with a little more enthusiasm now, so I grabbed her by the ears and forced her onto my cock deep, holding her in place while she gagged. This felt fantastic, and produced more tears, which traced over her face and onto my cock. So hot. 

I was soon ready to cum, and both of us knew it. Tamar increased the intensity of her sucking, trying to pull me over the edge. I grinned at her enthusiasm. "Want cum, Tamar? Want to drink my cum, you fucking little slut?" Without missing a beat, she changed the pitch of her moans to communicate begging, desire, need. I drew a sharp breath as my orgasm struck, and moaned as my hips thrust forward and my cock exploded into her mouth. Her throat worked, swallowing my cum without losing a drop, until I relaxed back, enjoying the post-orgasm rush. Tamar, well-trained by now, disengaged from my cock and began cleaning it with small kisses and licks. Her job done, she rested her face on my thigh and smiled up at me as I caressed her hair. What a perfect slut.

Once she had left to begin her day at college, I picked up my phone. I vaguely recalled it having gone off at some point while Tamar was doing precisely the same thing – going off! – on my cock. I flipped it open and grinned wickedly at the text message on the screen:

"I know you're using Tamar now, you fucking asshole. If you hurt her you'll be fucking sorry."

Veronica hadn't signed off. She hadn't needed to.

I laughed as my fingers began working over the keypad in response. I sent two messages, the first to Veronica:

"We'll see who is going to be fucking sorry, Veronica. Be here at 10AM tomorrow. But only if you really want to come, of your own accord."

The last bit was necessary because I knew she was still trying to trap me into a position where she could extricate herself and her daughter from my clutches. There was no chance, and she probably knew it, but she kept trying anyway. The second message was to Tamar:

"That was hot, you filthy little slut. I want some more, and I know you do too. 11AM tomorrow. Just to be kinky, I want you to "borrow" your Mom's sexiest panties."

I snapped the phone closed, feeling and no doubt looking like the self-satisfied, smug little bastard I am.

The next morning, just before ten, I strained to hear the sound of Veronica's car door closing down at street level. She would be on time – she always was nowadays. The first time she'd been late I had cum on her face and forced her to smear it all over, then wait for it to dry. She hadn't enjoyed it one little bit, and soon after recognized the value of punctuality. I heard the bang of a car door, and a minute or so later heard the clack of high heels outside my apartment door. 

She hesitated for a full thirty seconds before knocking. This was one aspect of Veronica which I loved. She was so torn. She truly hated me, and truly hated being my fucktoy, yet at a physical level I was meeting sexual needs which she previously hadn't even realized she had. She wanted to run away, yet she wanted to come in and be fucked hard. Neither pure enthusiasm nor pure hatred would have been nearly as interesting.

I opened the door and looked her up and down. Veronica still looked a treat. The makeup was heavier now than when I'd first seen her. Her skirt was a whole lot shorter, and the light low-cut blouse made it fairly obvious she didn't have a bra on. She looked, in short, like a middle aged slut. Again, she hated dressing this way ... but once I'd made my requirements clear, it turned out that she was exceptionally good at picking outfits which made her look completely fuckable. A hint of floral scent wafted in with her. "Come in, Veronica. You look fantastic."

"Fuck you, Anderson."

I laughed. "Yep, that's kind of the idea. Since we're not going to be nice to one another, whore, I want you kneeling in the middle of my living room, hands on your head. Lose the skirt, undo all but the bottom button of your blouse, and pull your tits out." 

Veronica blushed in fury and anger, pushing past me into the living room. She turned away from me and dropped her skirt, folding it neatly over a nearby chair. Once she was kneeling, she unbuttoned the blouse nearly all the way and drew back the fabric, exposing those hot ripe breasts. I walked over to her, looming over to her, and bent to cup her breasts, tweaking then pinching her nipples. She whimpered angrily, but her nipples stiffened beautifully. She held her eyes closed, no doubt wishing herself away.

I removed my shirt and pants, but left my boxers on, and returned to my slut. Leaning down, I placed my phone on the carpet in front of her and flipped it open. "Now, slut, somebody sent me a nasty message yesterday. Read it."

Gritting her teeth, Veronica opened her eyes and read. "I can't wait. You haven't fucked my ass in a week though. Why, are you chicken?"

I laughed evilly. "Oh, sorry Veronica. That one was from Tamar. Yours is the next one. But fucking her ass for her sounds like a good idea, don't you think?" She ignored me as I advanced the messages. "Here we are."

She looked furiously at me and read. "I know you're using Tamar now, you fucking asshole. If you hurt her you'll be fucking sorry." She looked up defiantly. "You fucking will be, too, Anderson."

The defiance was fun, but it was time to pull this little whore into line. To this point I had not used her anally – I'd been concentrating on forced oral and humiliation – but something special was needed to change her attitude. I ignored her comment and wandered into the bedroom, returning a few moments later with a short, thin, latex butt plug which flared out just enough to be retained securely. I held it in one hand, rubbing lube over it with the other. "Enough of your nonsense, Veronica. I've put up with your tantrums because they were amusing, but it's time you remembered that you are no more than a filthy little slut whore, blackmailed into fucking the man who is also riding your precious little girl. You are nothing more than fuckmeat, Veronica, and I have the wherewithal to ruin your little family any time I want. Instead, you're going to beg me to slide this plug into your ass."

Her eyes widened. "I can't. I can't take that. Please ... please?"

Needless to say, mercy wasn't high on my list of priorities just then. I placed a hand in the small of Veronica's back and pushed her forwards until she was on all fours, her head on the carpet. "Now, Veronica, reach back and pull those asscheeks wide apart." She paused, her whole body quivering. Slowly her hands came back and pulled her cheeks apart, revealing her cute little asshole. "Beg, Veronica. Beg me to plug you."

"Please don't. Come on. Let me suck your cock. You can cum on my face. I know you love that. Please just don't do this."

I laughed. "I can cum on your face anyway, bitch. But since you don't want the plug, maybe I should just shove my cock in your ass? I haven't lubed it, of course, but if that's what you want?"

The change in her attitude was dramatic. "No! Please? I'll take the plug. Please, Anderson."

"Well, slut, that's not really begging, is it?"

"Please fuck my ass with the plug, Anderson. Please ... sir?"

It was the first time she'd ever called me that on her own. Perfect. I touched the plug to her asshole and watched her flinch away. Slowly, surely, I pressed it forward. Her breath caught momentarily as the plug pressured her ass, then slid through. She groaned louder, though, when the ridge of the plug forced her ass to flare wide. I held it there, maximizing her discomfort for a few seconds, before pressing it home. Her muscles closed around the ridge, holding it tight, and I rocked back to admire my handiwork. It was a hot picture, so I snapped a couple of photos – one can never have too much blackmail material.

"Stand up, slut."

She stood up gingerly, trying to get used to the unusual feel of the plug in her ass, feeling the muscles work to try unsuccessfully to expel the invading object. I undid the last button of her blouse and tossed it aside, leaving her naked but for a pair of slutty high heels. Time to reveal the plan for the morning. "Now, Veronica, you seem to have a fascination with what Tamar and I do when we're alone, don't you?"

She didn't answer. The defiance was gone from her face, and her hips kept working slightly in response to the plug. Eventually, softly, she said "I want to protect her."

I laughed. "Well, slut, so far you're doing a fantastic job, aren't you?" She blushed as a momentary resurgence of anger flooded through her. "Well, Veronica, today's your lucky day. Not only are you going to find out what I do to your daughter, you're going to watch."

Veronica looked puzzled, but she let herself be guided from the living room into my bedroom, and over to my closet. The closet was one of those old-fashioned ones with row upon row of angled horizontal slats. It looked awful, like some sort of 70s throwback, but it was perfect for my purpose. I opened it up, and realization struck for Veronica. The clothes were gone, and a series of ropes had already been fastened to strategic points in the cupboard's interior. "No!" she protested. "No fucking way!!"


Enough was enough. I shoved the worthless bitch into the cupboard. "You don't have a fucking choice here, Veronica. Do you really want to test my resolve? Well?" She did not answer, but passively resisted as I grabbed her wrists and tied them together, behind her back. Next, two ropes secured her elbows, pulling them apart and rendering her arms immobile. At this point the fight went out of Veronica. Her fingers reached futilely for the ropes and, finding nothing, she realized she was beaten. There was no resistance as I secured a rope around her waist, then one to each knee and one to each ankle. It was a great position – she wasn't in any particular discomfort (she'd be stiff and sore when she emerged, but no more than that) but she couldn't move a muscle. 

We weren't done, though. I produced two nipple clamps and waved them before her face. She paled. "No. Come on. You don't need to use those."

I gave her a stern look. "Did you really think you would get away with the attitude you've been displaying, Veronica? Think yourself lucky I don't just pierce them. That would be hard to explain to hubby, don't you think?" I fixed each clamp to her nipples, enjoying her moans of pain, watching how little she could move in response. It was exquisite. One more touch. I took out a ball gag. She'd never seen one before, and looked on in incomprehension until I gripped her jaws and commended her to open. The ball went in before she realized what was going on, and I fixed the straps on her head. 

She couldn't move, she couldn't talk, she had a plug in her ass and clamps on her nipples. And she was about to watch me fuck her daughter. I turned on some music as I left the room, just enough to cover any incidental sounds. She was in for a show, that was for sure.

It took another ten minutes for Tamar to arrive. I had to resist the temptation to keep going back into the bedroom to check on Veronica, but I wanted her to feel abandoned and irrelevant. Because, of course, she was. Eventually, her daughter knocked on the door and I opened it. Fuck, Tamar looked like a tramp. She had on a skirt so short it was barely there, and a spaghetti strap satin top which I swear only just covered her nipples. Her long blonde hair was teased out, and her makeup screamed "stripper". She had gone to a lot of trouble, and I liked what I saw. Coming in the door, she wrapped her arms around me and I indulged her in a long, deep kiss before breaking away and commanding her to the bedroom. "Stand in the middle of the bed."

She smiled wickedly and led me into the bedroom, giving a little more wiggle with her ass than was strictly necessary, then kneeling on the bed before rising to a standing position. Standing on the bed in heels was harder than she expected, and she nearly fell before catching herself against the wall. She faced me as I stood to one side, just taking in the sight of her, and relishing the knowledge that her mother was watching. So far, so good. Tamar was in just the right mood, and there was no sign that her mother was even there.

Since Tamar was looking so much like a stripper, I'd decided she could put on a show. "Striptease for me, slut," I said. "Make me want you bad."

In a flash, Tamar's demeanor changed from lighthearted college chick to sultry siren. She looked right at me and slowly, seductively licked her lips. Her hips began to move, almost imperceptibly at first, then a little more, and a little more, swaying in time with the music which still wafted gently through the room. I kept my gaze on Tamar, carefully refraining from looking towards the closet. I knew Veronica could see everything, and I hoped she was enjoying the show as much as I was. Tamar continued to tease, moving her body this way and that, reaching down to the hem of her top and drawing it up to expose her navel and taut, girlish stomach. She held it there, just below her breasts, and continued to dance, then let it the shirt drop back into place.

My personal stripper bent down and removed her shoes to reveal red-painted toes. With a more secure footing, she stood again and began to dance with more energy, turning this way and that, showing off her exceptionally hot young body to best effect. She lifted the hem of her top again, but no teasing this time. It came off and she tossed it to one side where it fell, as luck would have it right at the closet door. I couldn't suppress a grin. Still dancing, Tamar caressed and pinched her nipples, eyes closing as she enjoyed her own touch. Eventually her hands slid languorously down her body, her thumbs hooking into the top of her skirt. "Want it to come off?" she teased.

I smiled. "But of course. I need to see whether you have followed my instructions."

She laughed and her thumbs moved downwards, pushing her skirt over her hips. She let it fall, left it on the bed and kept dancing. Tamar was clad now in a black lace thong, highlighted with red embroidered roses. I knew those panties – I had seen them on Veronica. "Good girl," I said softly. "Do you like wearing your Mom's panties, you filthy little whore?"

She blushed. "It feels ... nasty."

"Who do you think she wears those for?"

"Dad, I suppose. But I can't imagine ... ewww. Besides, she's old and dry. I bet they never fuck any more anyway."

I laughed and let her keep dancing. Did you hear that, Veronica? Your daughter is here, stripteasing on my bed, wearing your panties, while you're tied in the closet watching. And you're apparently too old and dry to fuck. Still laughing to myself, I stood and undressed before walking over to the bed.

"Kneel down, Tamar, and suck my cock."

She immediately dropped to her knees while I stood beside the bed. The heights were awkward ... she needed to stretch her neck out and down to get my cock without falling off the bed, but she did it without a second thought. Several months as a fuckslave had taught her well. Tamar began with soft licks and kisses, tasting my pre-cum and kissing along the length of my shaft, before dipping her mouth down over me, engulfing me in warm wetness. Not really sucking yet, just taking me into her mouth. She lifted her mouth away, and the wet skin felt suddenly cool as she continued kissing my shaft. Finally she sank her mouth onto my cock in earnest, working me hard, but not too hard. Neither of us wanted me to cum just yet.

I decided it was time to have a little more fun, humiliating both the daughter and the mother at once. I tapped Tamar on the head. "Keep sucking me, slut, but moo like a cow."

I saw her eyebrows raise. Moo? She did so, though, suckling on my cock and sounding like a heifer. I laughed at her and she blushed. "Now oink like a pig!" She did so, still sucking. "You really are a little piggy, aren't you Tamar? My own little fuckpig, snorting and sucking." She kept oinking, sucking and blushing. "Imagine what your Mom would say if she could see you now."

Tamar wasn't so enthusiastic now. She was embarrassed, humiliated. Sometimes she got so into the sex that she forgot she was my slave, not my girlfriend, and that while I love fucking her, I am not ultimately concerned whether she's having fun or not. Had she known Mommy really was watching, she'd probably have died of shock.

I pushed her face off my cock and sent her sprawling onto the bed. I rolled onto it and caught her panties in one hand. I pulled hard, and there was the sound of shearing fabric, and a gasp as the panties dug into Tamar's leg before tearing from her body. "Fuck! Mom's gonna kill me."

I tossed the panties aside, chuckling to myself. Without further ado, I pushed Tamar into a conventional missionary position and slid into her. She grunted, a hot fulfilled little grunt, as I bottomed out in her. While I was nice and firmly inside her, I carefully linked my ankles over hers and used my hands to brace her shoulders so that she could barely move. I whispered "Struggle, fuckwhore. Pretend I'm raping you and you need to get away."

She didn't need any more encouragement. We'd played this game before, and she was very convincing. She tensed her body and then, without warning, began thrashing to try to throw me off, crying and groaning with the effort, her nails becoming claws to scratch at me. I grabbed on harder, resisting her escape, and pounding her pussy with my cock. The harder she fought to get away, the more tightly I grabbed and held her. The more furiously she struggled, the harder I fucked her. It was like fucking a lioness, and I loved it. 




Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 05



She began to spit and curse. Still thrashing, she furiously yelled at me. "Let me go, you fucking bastard. Let me go!" I intensified my hold, fucking her so hard that she began whimpering with pain. She fought hard, but she was out of her league. She began to weaken, and I pressed home my advantage, literally fucking her into submission. By the time I felt my orgasm welling up within my cock she was limp, just accepting my abuse. I grunted with effort and made one last hard thrust, pushing up inside her deep and emptying my balls into her.

Tamar looked up at me, an odd look of fury and adoration which I've only really ever seen from her. "Scoop yourself clean," I instructed. She grimaced, but the inserted two fingers into her pussy, scooping our combined juices then licking her fingers clean. She repeated the process until I told her to stop. Apparently she doesn't like the taste of her juices – she seems insatiable for mine though. When she was done, I told her she could leave.

I had been planning to leave Veronica in place for a little while after Tamar's departure, but in the end I decided not to tease myself. I opened the closet to reveal my older slut exactly where I'd left her. Her makeup was a mess, her face a morass of tears. I undid her ball gag, expecting a torrent of abuse, but none came. "Did you enjoy the show, slut?"

She whispered. "What do you think? You tied me in a closet and fucked my daughter. You humiliated her, hurt her, and used her like a whore. And I have to let you do that to her and to me again and again and again. I hate you."

I laughed softly and dipped two fingers in her pussy. She was sopping wet. "Well I know one thing for sure, slut. You're not old and dry. Some part of you liked the show." Embarrassment fought with anger for possession of her face. Embarrassment won. "Admit that it turned you on, watching that, Veronica. Admit it."

She closed her eyes. "OK. I admit it."

I smiled softly to myself. The game had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.



Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 06



When Tamar answered her phone, she sounded like she just been laughing. She often sounded that way, which was one of the things I loved about our situation -- she was a bright, vivacious, incredibly pretty, happy young woman. She was also my utter cockslut, entrapped by a growing pile of blackmail material. Tamar was a very different young woman when she was bouncing, sweating and moaning on my cock. I loved seeing her on campus, watching her flirt with the boys and laugh with the girls, all the while knowing I could summon her at a moment's notice to do whatever the fuck I wanted. As I was about to do.

"Hi, it's Tamar!"

"I know, slut. I want you in my office, within ten minutes."

Her voice dropped, both in tone and volume, as though she had turned away from the group she was with. "Can I have an hour babe? Please? I'm kind of busy just now."

I chuckled inwardly. Tamar had somehow fooled herself into believing that what we had was somewhere between blackmail and an affair. She'd begun calling me "babe" and trying to negotiate. It was fun, of course, but I did need to remind her of who was in charge. "An hour? Of course you can have an hour. I'll use the time to start loading your pics onto the web, shall I? Maybe the ones of you licking my cum off the kitchen floor?"

Silence.

At last a whisper. "I'll be there in five."

I replaced the phone in the cradle, grinning wickedly at the hurt, tinged with fear, in her voice. While I waited, I sent a short SMS to my other slut, Veronica. Veronica was Tamar's mother -- an older, more ripe version of Tamar herself. Far classier, and far more devastated to find herself in the hands of a dominant bastard like me. 

Tamar must have been nearby and left her friends immediately, because about three minutes later there was a knock at my door, which I opened to reveal a sullen looking slut in a knee length denim skirt, black ballet slipper shoes, and a close-fit light yellow singlet top, through which her nipples seemed to be peeking. "Come in, Tamar. You look delicious. I am sorry for interrupting your morning with your friends."

She flicked me a look. "Sure you are. Would it have hurt you to let me have some coffee?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Whether it would have hurt me or not is entirely beside the point, whore. Whenever I want your body, it is at my disposal." I took on a more stern, teacher's voice -- the one I use when I'm giving a slack student a hard time. "Bend over my desk, Tamar, for panty inspection."

She let her bag drop from her shoulder and, looking venom at me, bent forward, resting her elbows on the desk and her forehead on her elbows. I flipped up the back of her skirt to reveal an incredible ass which still blew me away every time I saw it. Fuck she was hot. A slim fold of satin disappeared into her asscrack - Tamar was only allowed thongs, when she was allowed panties at all. I was pleased that she had been obedient. I traced my fingertip under the fabric, following it down to the very tip of her pussy. As I'd expected, she was sopping wet. I kept my voice low, but firm.

"Who owns this body, Tamar?"

There was a moment's hesitation, and still a touch of defiance as she answered softly, "You do."

"And when I want this body in my office, ready to serve me, then what should you do?"

"I should come."

"Straight away, or when you feel like it?"

Her face was buried in her arms, but I could almost see her wince. "Straight away."

"And did you, Tamar?"

"No ... sir."

"Then I suspect a little correction is in order."

She whimpered a little as I removed the belt from my pants and doubled it over. She had taken some fairly harsh spankings from me in the past, but she was no painslut. Her fear was genuine -- which ramped up my excitement just that one extra notch. I swung back the belt and cracked it down hard over the widest, meatiest part of her ass. A sharp report echoed momentarily through the room and Tamar jumped convulsively forward, pushing the desk slightly with her thighs and groaning. The belt left a white stripe on her ass which quickly began filling with a soft red-pink. I raised my arm for another, and brought it down -- thwack! -- on an angle, crossing over the first blow. She sobbed this time, but kept her head in position, he ass undulating this way and that as though she vainly sought to pull it away from the pain. One more. Thwack!! This one landed a little further over, and the weal extended over onto her hip, where she was less well protected. She was crying openly now, and held her position as I rethreaded my belt.

"Stand up, Tamar. Do you have anything to say?"

"I'm sorry ... sir."

"An are you going to keep me waiting again?"

"No sir."

"Good girl." I used my fingers to lift her chin and I smiled at her tear-streaked face. Is there anything, anything at all, as sexy as a beautiful woman crying after a spanking? "Clean yourself up, Tamar. We're going to my place."

~

She was quiet on the drive back to my apartment, and squirming exquisitely as her raw ass burned against the seat. The spanking hadn't been part of my plan for the day, but she had certainly deserved it. We parked and walked in. "Strip, slut, and put your clothes in your bag. You can leave the thong on, though."

She was a little puzzled as she looked at me. Usually I insisted on the full striptease routine. But she complied, turning away from me as she undressed. I don't know why women do that, when you're about to see them naked anyway -- but this time I didn't mind, as I was treated to a view of her sexy, glowing, fresh-spanked ass. She put her clothes into her bag, and stood in the middle of the room. I pushed the bag into a corner out of sight, then took Tamar's hand and led her down the hallway, past the bedroom door and into my study. My padded weights bench stood in the middle of the room, ropes already anchored to its bars. "Oh, fuck no," whispered Tamar.

"Did you say something, whore?"

"No sir. I'm sorry."

I let it go. "Lay down on the bench, Tamar, on your stomach. I want your pussy and ass at the very end of the bench, and your head supported." She turned away and I leaned forward, hooking my thumbs under the waist of her panties and pulling them over her hips. She froze as I did so, then straddled the bench (what a sight that was!) and leaned forward, laying herself down into position, and shuffling herself back until her pussy was flush with the edge. With her legs parted either side of the weights bench, the lips of her pussy were open invitingly, glistening slightly with the dew of her fear and arousal. I knelt behind her and tied her ankles with the ropes, tightly enough that she had virtually no movement at her ankles. Her knees were left unbound. When her ankles were secure I leaned forward for a moment and buried my nose in that glorious shaved little cunt, lapping up her tastes, listening to her catch her breath and moan slightly. Fucking delicious.

I move to Tamar's front now, and secured her wrists together underneath the bench, so that it looked like she was hugging it. Once they were together, I secured them both to one of the bench supports. When she was done, she was trussed up tight -- secure, but not particularly uncomfortable. I sat down on the floor for a moment so that our faces were at a level. She was biting her lip nervously, her face a mask of anticipation, anxiety, and arousal.

"Are you comfortable, Tamar?" She nodded. "Good. Because you're going to be on this bench for a few hours. I intend to use you, then leave you here until I feel like using you again, intermittently until after lunch." Her eyes widened as I stood. I went over to my desk and retrieved a butt plug and lube which I had placed there earlier. While doing so, I was outside the range of Tamar's vision and I could see her squirming against the ropes, trying to find out what was going on. She worked it out soon enough, as the cold of the lube touched at the entrance to her ass. 

Tamar was quite the anal slut by now, so she was no longer automatically freaked out by having her ass invaded. The muscles of her ass tightened reflexively for a moment, but she quickly relaxed and accepted the intrusion as I slowly pushed the plug home, filling her from behind until all I could see nestled between her asscheeks was the latex rectangle of the plug's base.

I stood to admire my handiwork. Tamar the prom queen, bound over my weights bench, legs wide, pussy available, ass filled with a plug, and mouth waiting. Excellent. I pulled a largish footrest around to the front of her and knelt on it, slipping my cock from my pants as I did so. "Suck my cock, slut," I instructed. "Suck it but don't make it cum."

This was a terrific game. She knew that if she did not suck enthusiastically enough she'd be punished ... and that if she sucked too enthusiastically I would cum, and she'd be punished for that. She began by licking my balls and licking along the shaft of my cock, slow wet passes of her tongue savouring every inch of me before she took me into her mouth and began sucking.

I closed my eyes as my cock disappeared between her lips. The suction of her mouth seemed to stimulate every square millimeter of my cock at once. To increase the sensation, from time to time she swirled her tongue over the head of my cock, or drew back so that only the head of my cock was inside her mouth, and her tongue caressed that incredibly sensitive region below my cockhead. All of this effort was punctuated by sexy little moans -- not that she was necessarily enjoying it, but she knew that the little mewling noises turned me on.

Tamar worked in a rhythm, giving me a few moments of serious stimulation followed by a longer period of less intense cocksucking. She had become very, very good at giving head, and this was some of the best. I let the sensations linger, deliberately trying not to give her any clues as to how close I was to cumming. The lack of cues frustrated her, but she kept going, working in her pattern of high and low stimulation.

After five minutes or so, I let her off the hook. By that time her jaw would have been aching (I'm only average in terms of length, but quite thick) and I didn't want to get carried away. I had a lot of playing to do yet. I drew backwards, watching as her mouth chased my cock until it finally got away, then caressed her cheek gently. "That was superb, Tamar. I'm going to leave you for a little while, now. I'll be back when I need to use your body again. Don't go anywhere." An old joke, but I laughed anyway. I switched on a DVD player, inserting a disk of extremely hot lesbian porn, and turned the volume up fairly high. She'd be able to hear everything, but would have to hold her head up in order to see. With one last smile at the scene I'd created, I closed the door on her. No more than the muffled noises of wet lesbian sex could be heard.

I had about twenty minutes in which to recover and prepare for the next part of my day. I dressed, then found the bag containing Tamar's clothes, and left it safely out of sight in my hallway closet. Once or twice I cracked the door open and checked on Tamar. Obviously, she was where I had left her, but I didn't see any signs of unusual discomfort. She was testing the bonds, though, and moving as much as they would let her.

Exactly on time, the sound of Veronica's high heeled shoes approached my door. I had disconnected the doorbell to be on the safe side, and I opened the door before she had a chance to knock. She looked terrific as usual, in a mutton-dressed-as-lamb kind of way. I continued to make her dress for me in slutty clothing more appropriate to a young woman of her daughter's age. The clothing emphasized her ripe sexuality in a way that even her nakedness did not. I let her in to the apartment and grabbed her firmly, kissing her deeply, my tongue forcing its way between reluctant lips. By know I had figured Veronica out. She loved the sex, but hated me. She loved the intensity of our sessions, but hated the guilty feelings she got on returning home to hubby. For so long as she was forced to do these things, she could enjoy them without the guilt of volunteering. And for my part, I loved forcing through her reluctance. I continued kissing her until I felt her arms snake around me, and felt her kiss me back. 

As we kissed, I lifted the back hem of her skirt to confirm that she was not wearing panties. I had no need to check for a bra -- in the teasing, satiny top she was wearing, every time she moved Veronica's tits flowed with her. She had been a good girl -- or, from her perspective, a bad one -- and followed by instructions to the letter. Breaking our kiss, I took her hand and led her towards the bedroom. 

"What are the noises I can hear?"

I smiled. "It's a porn DVD. Some particularly nasty lesbian porn I was watching earlier. Why, do you want to watch too?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Of course not."

We entered the bedroom and I closed the door. She was two rooms away from her daughter and had absolutely no idea. I moved towards her and took the hem of her top in my hands, commanding her to lift her arms so I could pull it off. She complied, affecting the disinterested look she always wore early in our sessions. Her ripe, ever-so-slightly sagging breasts came into view and I pinched and twisted one while biting the other none-too-gently, drawing a moan of pain-pleasure from her. I left the skirt on her and instructed her to lay on the bed. Once she was there, I cuffed her hands to the bedhead and lifted her ankles, cuffing them to the bedhead too so that they were raised and spread wide. In that position she was completely open to me, her skirt riding up to expose her pussy. 

I stood and laughed. "Look at you, you filthy old whore. What would the girls at the tennis club say if they could see you now, hey?" She started blushing, and it got worse when I pulled out the camera and recorded the scene for posterity. After that, I got down to business, slipping out of my clothes and climbing onto the bed. Without foreplay or warning, I sank my cock deep into the bitch, her open legs and soaked cunt welcoming me. She grunted slightly as I bottomed out hard, then I began pumping her, hard and fast. I watched her eyes begin to drift, lost in a world of cock as I fucked her. She began to mewl and moan back at me, her hips working as much as they could under the circumstances. 

I'd entered her without warning, and I withdrew the same way, pulling one stroke long and exiting her pussy, leaving her hips still working and her moans changing to a slightly begging tone. She wasn't too far from cumming, even after such minor stimulation. To cool her off, I reached for an icebucket I'd placed on the sideboard, and slipped an ice cube into her pussy, and another into her navel. The pussy one slipped out quickly, but nestled on the bed at her asshole, and make her squirm nicely. I stood and whispered to her "I'll be back in a little while, when I feel like using you again, whore. Don't make any noise. I'm expecting visitors, and if they hear you, I might just let them come in for a look." Her eyes were wide with surprise by the end of my first sentence, and she was utterly outraged by the time I walked from the room. She was silent, though.

I left the room on a massive high. I had two submissive sluts, in two separate scenes at once, begging to do my bidding. It didn't get any better than this.

I returned to Tamar. She was slumped in her bonds, dripping with sweat. Her ears picked up the sound of the door closing behind me and she magically came to life, twisting her head to get a look at me. I sat in front of her, my eyes level with hers. "Want me to take the plug out, slut?"

"Yes please, Sir. Please?"

How could I say no to that? I moved to her ass and started easing the plug from her. By this point it was almost bone dry in there, and I could see that it hurt coming out. I pushed it back in an inch then released it again, just enjoying the look of pain on her face. Once it was out I set it aside, then began setting up a piece of apparatus behind Tamar, where she could not see. It was a dildo, mounted on the end of a broomstick. The broomstick in turn sat in an adjustable base, so I could change its length and angle. I positioned it right at the entrance to her pussy so that she could back up onto it a couple of inches. Once it was in position, she could just feel it brushing her lips.

Returning to her front end, I knelt to unbind Tamar's hands. She looked at me gratefully, pulling them up to rest them on the bench and rub away the pins and needles.

"Now, whore," I said softly. "As you can tell, I've placed a dildo at the entrance to your pussy. Fuck yourself with it."

She didn't hesitate. She was already in a state of high sexual tension, and she needed something ... anything. Her feet were still bound, but in moments she was rocking backwards on the dildo, impaling herself on it, slowly at first then with more energy as she became confident the dildo was secure. I watched, gently stroking my cock at the scene in front of me. A young, lithe bitch, glistening with sweat, fucking herself like the greedy little cunt she was. She was bucking hard now, slamming herself backward, arching her body so that her clit rubbed on the bench. She was getting close, but she knew better than to cum without permission. "May I cum please, sir? I really need to cum so bad!"

"No," I whispered softly.

She moaned her disappointment but kept grinding herself backwards, changing pace and angle to keep herself close without going over the edge. Three more times she teetered on the brink. And three more times I denied her. The last time, she was no longer moaning, she was almost snarling with her need for release. I denied her and she howled, almost as though I had whipped her. I decided she'd had enough, and ordered her to stop. Tamar slumped onto the bench, exhausted and frustrated. She barely moved as I rebound her hands and removed the dildo. I changed the DVD and left her to recover.

Veronica remained in position, moaning in discomfort. She had been crying, but her eyes were dry as she shot a look of pure venom my way. I smiled sweetly at her, and released one of her wrists. "Now, now, Veronica. It almost looks like you're not pleased to see me! Trust me, you don't want me to come to that conclusion." I walked over to the other side of the bed and knelt down, reaching beneath it for the bag I'd left there. I drew from it a long, thick black dildo. It wasn't outrageously sized, but it was certainly large enough to stretch, and was lifelike, covered in thick veins which almost seemed to pulse as I held it up before her. "Do you like it?" I asked.

"I like it more than I like yours, weiner dick."

I suppressed the urge to grin. So different to her daughter. "I'm glad. Because you're going to fuck yourself with it, while I take photographs of you." I let the dildo drop onto her chest, where it nestled between her breasts.

"No fucking way."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sure you're in much of a position to argue, Veronica. Let's stop playing games, shall we? You are a filthy little whore pretending to be a good suburban housewife. You come here on command and submit to the use of your face, your cunt and your ass by a man you hate. You are a cumrag. A worthless skank with an equally filthy daughter. Now shut the fuck up and start working that dildo, bitch, or you are going to become very famous very quickly."

Veronica's face was a picture. Outrage, humiliation, terror and arousal all seemed to share space . Slowly, she reached for the dildo, tears welling in her eyes as she took its base. "Put on a good show, whore," I said softly.

She was sobbing by now, as she traced the head of the dildo up and down the splayed lips of her pussy, getting it a little wet. The contrast between her distress and her actions was incredibly arousing. I started snapping photos as she reached down, changing the angle of her wrists to slide just an inch inside herself. Inch by inch she made the dildo disappear, each inch made harder by the girth of the dildo and the realization that she was humiliating herself for my entertainment. Eventually she had planted most of the dildo inside herself and she paused, looking up at me in the silent hope that she had done enough. Not by a long shot. "All you've done so far is swallow the dildo, Veronica. I told you to fuck it, and that's what I expect you to do."




Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 06



Veronica was no longer sobbing but there was still a trickle of tears as she slowly began working the dildo in, and slowly out, just an inch at a time. She was most definitely not enjoying herself, but that was OK -- I was enjoying it enough for both of us. "Faster," I commanded. Her tempo increased, and with it the length of the strokes. Her tears soon dried up. Despite herself, her body began moving with the rhythm of the dildo. She automatically began working the dildo in ways which she enjoyed. Soon her breathing was deep, her eyes were closed and her reluctance was gone, though the shame kicked in every time her eyes peeked open and she was reminded that I was watching, and filling a memory card with pictures.

A few minutes later, she was genuinely enjoying herself again, the dildo becoming a blur inside her. I watched until there was no conflict any more, no shame, no awareness of her humiliation, just pure pleasure, starting on the gradual ascent to orgasm.

"Stop," I said.

She pretended not to hear me for a moment, her hand still working the dildo. I reached out and grabbed her wrist firmly, just enough to hurt. Holding her wrist, I forced her to draw the dildo from her pussy. I lay it, slick with her juices, back where it had started, between her breasts. She seemed to recoil from the cool wet touch, but her hips continued to work vainly, looking for stimulation, and she was moaning softly with a combination of frustration and humiliation. I removed my clothing and stood on the bed, straddling Veronica's chest jut below her breasts. I was hard as a rock from the events of the last few hours, and my cock was pointing directly at her face. "Take me in your hand," I said softly. "Nice and slow."

She reached up gingerly, taking hold of me with just the fingertips of her free hand, moving them back and forth just enough to rub my foreskin over the head of my cock. It was not much of a handjob, and I told her so. "That is pathetic, you feral little cunt. Your job here is to show that cock a good time. If you can't do it, I know your daughter can. Should I call her over here to show you how it is done? I can, you know."

Veronica's whole world stopped for a moment. She didn't breathe, she couldn't speak, her hand froze on my cock. I swear, even her heart stopped beating. Eventually, she whispered "You wouldn't ..."

It was more plea than prediction, and I nearly burst out laughing, knowing how close nearby her beautiful young daughter was. I answered with an evil grin: "That's up to you."

Her hand closed around my cock more firmly, and she began stroking it with something approximating enthusiasm. It was forced, of course, but that was part of the turn-on for me. The whole day had been one huge fucking turn-on, and by now I was more than ready to cum. My breathing was deep, and my attention centred on the rising pleasure building in my groin. I moaned softly, instructing Veronica to keep my cock pointed at her face. "I'm going to cum, whore, and if so much as a drop misses your face I am going to whip you so hard you won't sit down for a month." She blanched, but the fight had gone out of her. The most resistance she could offer was to reduce the intensity of her strokes, which of course did little more than prolong the pleasure for me.

The cum was boiling in my cock and I felt it rise, pleasure sweeping through me ready to burst ... literally, all over this stuck-up whore's face. I groaned, so close. "Don't miss ... one ... fucking ...drop!"

I came, hard. The first jet shot out, hitting Veronica on her forehead, almost at the hairline. It was followed by more, with less power, leaving her with a jagged line of cum all over her face. She kept jerking me until I instructed her to stop. I was heaving for breath. It felt like all the breath had been sucked out of me as I came. Fuck it was good ... the feeling of her hand, combined with the sheer intoxication of treating the two women like worthless fucking whores. 

It took all of Veronica's willpower not to turn her head, to wipe it clean on the pillow. When I recovered, I slipped into the kitchen and returned with a slice of bread. Gentleman that I am, I used them to wipe the cum from her face until Veronica was all pretty again. "Open!" I commanded. Her look went from shocked, to outraged, to incredulous. I waited for her refusal, but oddly it never came. She clamped her eyes shut, and slowly opened her mouth. I folded the first slice of bread over and put the end in her mouth. "Feed yourself, whore." She took the rest of the slice, and slowly ate it. A couple of times I thought she might gag, but she choked it down fairly well in the end.

When she opened her mouth to show me she was done, I untied her and let her up. "You can go now, Veronica. You were a good girl today. Don't worry, though, I'll be using you again soon."

When she was dressed, I walked her to the door. She left, but turned on the threshold and surprised the hell out of me. In a soft voice she half whispered "thank you, sir," then turned on her heel and left in a hurry.

I was astounded. Had she really said that? Half of me wanted to chase her to find out what was going on, but the other half already knew. This was her inevitable first concession to the fact that she loved this game as much as her daughter did. Her daughter, who was still bound in the other room. I turned on my heel and opened the door to behold my younger slut, trussed up and available. HER afternoon had still just begun.