Encounter, F/F, Blackmail
The note came in the morning mail, laser printed on a sheet of
copier paper. The message was short and to the point. 'I know about
all about you. If you don't want your husband to find out you'll
follow these instructions to the letter.' The message went on to
specify when and where I was expected to make an appearance. It
promised no harm would come to me. But If I failed to appear my
husband would receive a phone call the following day.
I decided to do as instructed. The next morning, at precisely 10
a.m., I arrived at 100 Garden Street and rang the bell for apartment
G1. I was buzzed in and took the elevator up to the 7th floor. The
door to apartment G1 was slightly ajar. I entered and closed the door
behind me, engaging the deadbolt and safety chain as the instructions
had specified. I set my purse down on an end table and picked up the
blindfold I found there. The barstool was there in the middle of the
room as the note had mentioned. I sat down on the stool and put the
blindfold in place.
I sat there for a couple of minutes, alone with my thoughts. I was
dressed as demanded in the note. A blouse that buttoned in front,
front hook bra, thong panties, garterbelt, white nylon stockings,
short skirt, black medium-heeled pumps. I knew I must look attractive
and vulnerable sitting there with the blindfold on. I'm thirty-one
years old, a brown-eyed blonde, and rather pretty. I'm 5'8" tall,
weigh 125 pounds, and I have a nice, athletic body. My legs are long
and sleek, my best feature.
It seemed like an hour before anything happened but it was probably
only a few minutes. I heard the creak of a hinge and then sensed
movement in the room. The carpet muffled any footsteps, but a moving
body creates a faint breeze and then there are faint sounds created by
the rustling of clothes. A low, husky voice warns me not to move or
speak. I nod my understanding. Fingertips caress my cheek for a
moment then pull away.
I take a deep breath as I feel my blouse being unbuttoned. I
remain motionless, my hands hanging at my sides. My blouse is
removed. My skirt is unbuttoned and a tug causes me to lift myself
for a moment while it is pulled down over my hips. My panties go
next, followed by my bra. I sit there wearing only garterbelt,
nylons, and shoes. My nipples harden as the cool air hits them. My
breasts are small, 34b, but pretty, without a trace of sag. My
nipples are pink and sensitive. They quickly harden to still little
points.
A hand pushes my knees apart. The voice warns me to keep them
apart. I puzzle over the voice as I wait for the next move. It seems
too soft for a man's voice, too deep for a woman. A teenaged boy?
No, the voice is too confident to be someone that young. Fingertips
caress my nipples and I begin to breathe more deeply. I am becoming
aroused.
My.... captor? Tormentor? I can't find an appropriate word to
describe this person. Captor doesn't seem right, I'm here by choice.
Blackmailer seems right, but too crude. Tormentor? I haven't been
tormented, just stripped. I decide that captor will have to do.
My captor moves around behind me and my wrists are pulled back and
cuffed together. Now I am truely a captive. My captor places both
hands flat on my back. The hands are neither small nor unusually
large. No clue there. The hands move across my back and around to
cup my breasts. They squeeze gently and lift my breasts, thumbs
teasting my hard nipples. I let my head fall back and moan with
pleasure as my breasts are fondled a little roughly, the way I like
it.
The hands leave my breasts and I sigh audibly. The response is a
brief chuckle. I am prodded and told to stand and slip out of my
shoes. I do so. A collar is fastened around my neck. It is wide and
fits snugly. It forces me to hold my head up straight. I feel
something being fastened to the collar and then a tug followed by a
steady pull. I am forced up onto the tips of my toes. After a
mintue, the hands cup my breasts again and fondly them roughly for a
couple of minutes. I feel a warmth in one ear, warm breath followed
by the flicker of a tongue. A single word. "Slut."
I shiver and whisper, "Yes?"
A chuckle. "Good, you acknowlege it."
With a final squeeze, the hands abandon my breasts. Then my
buttocks are parted and I feel something press against my anus.
"Please, no," I whimper but I'm ignored. A long, thick butt plug is
forced into my ass as I whimper and plead.
A hand slips between my legs. I am very wet. I moan as knowing
fingers slip between my labia to explore my tight cunt. A fingertip
caresses my clit and my moans increase in volume. My captor chuckles.
The hand withdraws. I sigh in bitter disappointment. The voice
demands, "Beg for it."
I take a deep breath. "Please," I whisper, "Please, I want to
come. Please masturbate me. Please! Oh god, please!" I moan as my
captor flicks the butt plug a couple of times. The hand returns and I
moan and trust my hips, pushing myself onto those knowing fingers. I
continue to moan as I am masturbated to orgasm, a long shuddering
climax that leaves me limp.
When it is over, the cuffs are removed. Then the collar. I stand
there, sweaty and panting, and the voice instructs me not to move for
five minutes. Then I am told that I can remove the blindfold, dress,
and leave. I am ordered to leave the butt plug in until I am out of
the building. A last instruction is given. I am told to shave my
cunt before our next appointment which will be two days later at the
same time. I nod and whisper, "Yes, I will."
When I remove the blindfold I find that my underwear is missing. I
slip my blouse and skirt back on and survey myself in the full length
mirror in the hall. I look calm and collected, much calmer than I
feel. My bare breasts are perfectly visible through my sheer blouse
and I look sexy. I leave the apartment and walk down to the elevator,
praying that it will arrive empty. The butt plug keeps me aroused.
The elevator arrives with one occupant, a tall athletic looking
young woman with red hair. She smiles as I enter and I see her glance
flick downward and back up. She is taller than me and younger, maybe
25 or so. Green eyed, freckled, pretty. We ride down in silence. As
we leave the building, I turn right and she turns left. Then I hear
the voice from the apartment. "Don't forget to shave." I whirl
around and the redhead smiles as she turns the corner and disappears
from sight.
The ironic part of the whole epsiode is this. I am not married.
The End
