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Blackmailed

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Brunette

I come home to my apartment one day and find a large manila envelope with no return address in my mailbox. Curious, I open the envelope upstairs and gasp in surprise as an 8×10 photo falls out. The picture isn’t terribly clear, but it’s obviously me in the picture, lying back on my bed and masturbating, left hand wrapped around my cock, my body arched in pleasure, obviously building toward a strong orgasm.

After looking at the picture for a moment, I see the cuffs around my ankles, the collar buckled around my neck, and I realize that I remember the night this must have been taken, the fantasies I was acting out then, and I become very nervous indeed. If there are more photos–and there isn’t any reason to believe there aren’t–this one might look tame by comparison, given what I had done that night.

Several days pass, and then my fears are realized. Another envelope, this time with several smaller pictures, all of me in submissive poses, playing with myself in one way or another. After the last photo, I find a slip of paper with instructions typed on them:

“Leave your blinds open tonight. I want more pictures, you know the kind I want, slut. If you disobey, these pictures will find their way to your boss and your family, for starters. Let me urge you not to test me on this, my pet.”

Despite my better judgment and my fear, I find myself incredibly adana escort excited by this…I’ve always had blackmail fantasies and even though this is much more serious I can’t help but obey. My blinds are opened and I put the collar back on in front of the large window, then sink to my knees, masturbating in plain view, writhing in ecstasy, thinking of the cameras I am sure are following my every movement, bringing my fingers up to my mouth, sucking my own precum. Finally, after I cum, I crawl back across the room and into bed, stopping to cuff my ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed.

The next day I can’t wait to get home and see what is waiting for me. I’m not disappointed–there is a videotape waiting for me with a label that simply says, “Mine” across it. With shaking hands, I put the tape in my VCR and see my performance, obviously taken from across the street, but clear enough to know who is playing with himself, how much I like it as I finally cum all over the floor and myself, then crawl back to the bed, obviously loving it.

After that, silence. I wait for another set of instructions, another picture, anything, but it doesn’t come for over a week. Then, finally, a single sheet of paper with an address and time. On the back of the sheet, written in red ink, “Bring your collar.”

The next day eskişehir escort I went, of course, after masturbating at the thought of what was to come. While I wait on the sidewalk, a long black limousine comes up alongside, the back window moving down with a hum, one hand outstretched, beckoning me to the car. As I walk forward, I hear a woman’s voice from inside the car. “Did you bring your collar, slut?”

“Y-yes, I did,” I reply.

“Then put it on, right now.” I obey. What else can I do? Right there in the middle of town, by a busy outdoor restaurant, I put my collar on for a woman I’ve never met, my Mistress.

Her hand disappears inside the car for a moment, then comes out holding a leash. She clips it to my collar, and I let out a low moan of surrender as she does so. The door opens, and the raven-haired woman motions for me to kneel, then enter. Breathless, I obey again. As I kneel inside the limo, she idly plays with my collar, chuckling and remarking how easily I had come to her. Then she makes an offer. She shows me a box full of pictures and videotapes, presumably all of me, and tells me I can take all of it, along with the negatives and originals, and leave now. She won’t try to stop me, and that will be the end of it. No more pictures, no more blackmail.

There’s another option, she sakarya escort explains. I can stay right where I am and she can do whatever she wants to with me. She assures me that more pictures and videos will be taken, and they *will* be shown to whomever she wants to. The little blonde girl I have such a crush on at work will see them, she promises. And she will see me, too, as the slave, the slut I so clearly am. If I stay now, though, she explains, there will be no other chances to leave, no further negotiation. I mull this over for several minutes, and as I am wavering, about to decide to take the safe way out and run like hell, she clears her throat slightly, drawing my attention up to her. I moan softly as I feel her stocking-covered foot running up along the inside of my thigh, lightly rubbing across my hard cock. She whispers, “You love this. If you leave now you’ll always wonder what I would have done to you. You can’t help it, pet. You know you’re mine, and you know it’s what you want. I’ll strip your control, your power, your will. I already have, haven’t I?”

I can barely breathe, flushing with embarrassment, with humiliation as I nod slightly. “No, slut. Show me. Show me what you want.”

Without another word, I sink back to my knees, handing the leash into her hands. Before the limousine pulls away with both of us in it, I hear her low, mocking chuckle as she opens the door, taking the pictures and videos and leaving them on the sidewalk. The last thing I see before she puts the blindfold on me is the woman from my office I like so much coming up to the box, looking inside, then waving at the departing limousine with a smirk. Somehow I know I’ll be seeing her again soon…

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