Priceless

Priceless

by Velvetglove

Synopsis

Originally conceived as a short story (one part) for Christmas, the characters have all realised that there is no need for the blackmail to stop. The action can continue into the New Year - and beyond.

Part Two

“Click it !”

I shouted at him again, impatiently this time. His finger hovered, trembling, and then he did it. He clicked the mouse and uploaded the video of his wife. From that moment on, they had lost control of it to cyberspace. They could never get it back. As I said:

There are some things in life money can buy.

For everything else, there’s your Master.

They both looked at me, amazed at the enormity of what they’d done. But the clip was relatively harmless. I still had worse, much worse, to blackmail them with. This was just a taster of what they’d feel if they didn’t do exactly as I told them from now on. Besides, maybe nobody they knew would spot her in that little four-minutes clip ? So I now also had 14 email addresses as well - parents, family, friends and colleagues – who could be sent the link if Gordon or Sally stepped out of line.

It was December 29th. Just a couple of days until the start of 2008 and a very different year for them. A year of living dangerously. And to think, they volunteered for this. Makes you wonder what goes on in their minds.

*** *** ***

My name is Gordon. I am writing this diary on my new Master’s instruction. I understand it may be used to accompany video clips of me or my wife that are posted and I hereby authorise my words to be copied or reproduced in any way. I have been told I am to describe my actions and thoughts and to hold nothing back … or our situation will become worse.

It’s true. Sally and I brought all this upon ourselves. I could attach the usual ‘be careful what you wish for’ warning but – so far – what’s happened is sadly exactly what we wanted. Not every detail or nuance. But generally. Ownership. Helplessness. Exploitation. Blackmail. Threats. A Master. My motives and Sally’s are different. But we come from the same place. A need to give ourselves up in the worst way to the whims of another person.

I met Sally through work ten years ago. She was a temporary secretary at the local accountancy firm where I work. She was sexy with, I discovered, a bit of a reputation. I was amazed when she accepted my clumsy chat up lines and invitation for a drink after work. We married ten months later. I was so proud of her. She is much prettier than I deserve. Yes, I always felt that. I’m not especially successful or wealthy, good looking, talented or funny. I’m just good old Gordon; hard working, dependable, nice. I always got a thrill from other guys enviously looking at Sally and me together.

Sexually, things seemed fine. I knew Sally had had more previous partners than me and a wilder past. But she never complained. Nor did I. She was happy to let me take the initiative and set the pace. In the first year or so, we had sex often; three or four times a week. Mainly just good old fashioned fucking but it felt great. Then we settled down to a comfortable once or twice a week. I was busy with work and Sally didn’t seem to mind. We were in no rush for kids either. To be honest, neither of us was sure whether we wanted to have a family. I started masturbating a lot again, rather than impose my libido on her when she wasn’t in the mood or was tired. I’d always jacked myself off, even when we were having more sex.

And then, slowly, the fantasies started. Thoughts that had been dormant since I met Sally started to invade my mind. To cut a long story short, we got drunk one night and I asked her to tie me up and dominate me. It wasn’t a disaster but her heart wasn’t in it. We felt embarrassed. A month later we tried again. A week or so after that, we experimented with me switching and putting Sally in bondage with some scarves. That worked better but we hated the aftermath. I felt guilty about what I’d done and kept apologising while she got angry with me for talking about it and saying sorry.

Of course, it was many months before we reached the point where we knew the only way we could continue was with a Master. We tried, really tried, to make it happen on our own. We knew the risk we would be taking was lunacy but, like moths to a flame, we were unable to resist the terrible need. I was, literally, petrified as we exchanged those first emails. How on earth do you find the right man, the right combination of evil and sanity ?

*** *** ***

As a treat, I let Gordon enjoy sloppy seconds. His last fuck of 2007. All on film, of course. I filled Sally’s cunt and then recorded him lapping her out before he clambered on top and thrust into her until he came. Then I had her climb astride her husband’s head and ride him to her own climax with our combined juices running out all over his sopping, glistening face. Another clip for our You Porn collection.

December 29th was a Saturday and I decided to stay the night. I was meeting my girlfriend at the station the next day, but not until the afternoon. She’d been up spending Christmas with her parents. I phoned her while I watched a soccer highlights program on TV. Sally was kneeling between my thighs. Gordon had already been locked in the downstairs cupboard for the night.

“Hi, love.”

“Hiya !”

We’d spoken earlier in the day and I’d told her I was having a quiet evening in. True, just not the whole truth.

“Watcha doing ?” she asked.

I looked down at Sally’s lips sliding along my fire hose.

“Just watching Match of the Day.”

“Ah.” She commiserated. “Feeling horny ?”

Sure am, darling.

“Can’t wait to see you.”

We talked some more and then blew lovey-dovey kisses goodbye.

I stared down at Sally, doing her best to bring me off, no-hands.

“That was my girlfriend.”

Her hazel eyes flicked up from my pubic hair to look at me. I’d told them I was single. True, in that I’m not married.

“She’s a nice girl who likes nice healthy sex. But I like the other, dirty unhealthy kind too. So she’ll get the former and you will provide me with the latter. Understood ?”

She did her best to nod, eyes smoky with shame and jaw ache.

“Get your mouth off my dick then.”

I watched her pull her head away. A strand of saliva hung from her lip.

“You say that you never rimmed your husband’s asshole, right ?”

She shook her head. During our emails, I’d had to explain what rim means.

“And you never will. Ever. Promise me.”

She nodded her pretty head ever so slowly, mouth opening.

“I … promise.” She whispered.

“Because being rimmed is too good for him.”

I slid down in the armchair, so my butt hung off the cushion. The soccer players were celebrating a goal on TV.

“Do me.”

I enjoyed her expression of distaste almost as much as the first wet buzz of her tongue in my crack. I could still see her upper face between my thighs.

“Look at me.” I ordered, coldly.

There was a delicious slurry of who-knows-what emotions in her eyes, her pupils dilated with shock. But she peered straight back at me.

Oh boy. I adore analingus. Receiving, not giving. I mean, I don’t mind kissing a freshly bathed girlfriend back there as a bit of foreplay, but mouth-to-ass is one Christmas gift that it’s better to receive than to give.

“Mmm …” I groaned. I find it’s best to encourage with some appreciation. “That tickles. Now, I’m going to fart, doll. Don’t stop what you’re doing.”

Her eyes squinted semi-shut in a grimace.

It was a goody. A long hiss. Almost silent, but loud enough that we both heard it. And she evidently felt, tasted and smelt it too. Her face recoiled a fraction but, credit to her, her tongue never lost contact with my butt.

I laughed.

The aroma was pungent, a heady mix of sulphur and spices.

“Pfhaw. Lick that up. Chase your tongue up and down the length of my crack, doll. Hurry.”

She’d crossed into sub-space now. Her eyes were glazed and her senses scrambled. I think she’d have done just about anything I said at that moment. Her soft pink tongue slavered along my hairy anus.

I could feel a second bubble of gas. I pushed it out. This time it was a short gunshot that exploded against her face without warning.

“Ohhhh …” she recoiled.

“Get your fucking tongue back in there now !”

Our eyes locked in a brief test of wills that I won hands down. She steeled her jaw and then leaned back down, opening her mouth. It was even better this time. Her eyes had watered and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

I watched the action on TV for a minute or so. I knew it would heighten her feelings of being used if I studiously ignored her. Sadly I had no more flatulence to test her with. It was time to shoot my load instead.

“Jack me off but stay licking my butt as well.”

She seemed pretty skilled at handling a dick. Maybe she’d given more teenage hand jobs than she’d let on. I shut my eyes and enjoyed the build up as her right hand reached up and pumped me rhythmically.

And then I came, shooting jet after jet over my stomach, chest and groin. I opened my eyes and admired the puddle and patterns I’d made.

“Okay, doll. Enough ass for now. Come here and clean up.”

I studied her as she pecked at my curdling jizz like a cat. Damn it was gonna be fun introducing this woman to bukkake parties.

“Slurp it up. You’ve got thirty seconds to clean me good.”

*** *** ***

I lay in the locked, under-stairs cupboard all that first night, uncomfortable, cold and, yes, afraid. The silence in the house was deafening. I heard the TV being turned off and you both going up to bed. Our bed. My home had been invaded. And it was all my own fault. Police. Ambulance … Fire Brigade. Nobody was coming to our rescue.

My heart was beating in a way I’d never known before. The only other sound was the distant chiming of the church clock; midnight, one, two. I could picture you in my bed, with Sally beside you. Or maybe you would make her sleep in the second bedroom ? Or on the floor ? In the bath ? What bedtime tricks did you have planned ? She told me everything you did to her on Christmas Day; making her fuck her own virgin ass and pissing in her mouth. I knew it would hardly stop there, would it ?

And yet … I wished you had put me back in the CB. I felt afraid. But excited too. I fingered my dick, needing to cum again. How sick is that ? I pumped myself to a hurried orgasm in the dark, yet from now on I want you to deprive me of even the consolation of masturbating myself in a cold dark cupboard at three o’clock on a sleepless morning. Next time I need to be tied, chaste and frustrated, while you rape my entire life.

*** *** ***

New Year’s Eve. I managed to gather up a trio of internet contacts for my party. There would have been more but several had unmovable commitments. Unsurprisingly, Don and Joan had been invited to another party but they decided at the last minute to give it a miss and join me instead, provided I could help them with travel. Leon was free to join us anyway.

That morning, my girlfriend and I had a big row about me having to work on New Year’s Eve. But, hey, sometimes firemen have to do unsociable hours !

Gordon and Sally were busy with preparations when I arrived at their place mid-afternoon. I checked the till receipts from their shopping. I’d told them to spend at least £400 on the best champagne, wine, food and a few household items I’d specifically ordered. The total bill came to nearer £420. A decent start to their new extravagant lifestyle.

“Have you been good ?”

I stared at them both, checking for any signs of guilt. They nodded.

“No sex at all ?” I raised an eyebrow at Gordon. “Not even jacking off ?”

“No … Sir.”

“I read what you posted about masturbating in the cupboard.”

He looked down at his feet. He was wearing a plastic apron.

“From now on I’m going to keep you in the CB full time. It can be your New Year’s resolution. No more jerking off.”

He glanced up and then lowered his gaze again. “Yes, Sir.”

“Your car got plenty of fuel ?”

He frowned, looking up. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. In half an hour you need to leave to go pick up a couple of guests.” I told him where Don and Joan lived. It was about 100 miles away. A four hours round trip. Later, at around 2 a.m., he could drive them home again. That would keep him occupied all night. Gordon the cab driver.

“Unless you want to see another clip of Sally sent into cyberspace ?”

He blinked, simply dipping his head in meek acceptance.

“Okay. Carry on with the preparations.”

I watched them working in the kitchen together. She worked at the countertop preparing, washing and cooking. He was laying the dining table, polishing cutlery, shining glasses. I sat down with a glass of wine and took out my cameras, fixing one to a tripod.

“You.” I said to Sally. “Take your top off.”

I filmed her topless chopping vegetables and preparing the beef.

“Now put one of those up your cunt.”

It was a plump courgette, what the Americans call a zucchini. A shiny dark green. She gawped at me incredulously.

“Now !”

Gordon looked from me to his wife, clearing his throat as if to speak.

“Shut up. You fucked up big time when you chose me, mate. Now go get in your car. Stop off first and withdraw £250 in cash from the cash point machine. When you get to the address I gave you, bring the man and woman back here. Drive safely, but be here by eight. Got that ?”

He simply dry-swallowed, absorbing my words. Then with a final desperate glance at his missus, he fetched his jacket and felt for the keys.

“See you later.” I called out merrily as the front door closed.

I turned back to Sally. Her plump, white tits were just past their best. She took a 36D bra and filled it. Her nipples were dark red, like ripe raspberries. Without a bra she jiggled in a droopy, but still sexy manner. She reminded me of a topless waitress in some spit and sawdust joint.

“Take the skirt off.”

She obeyed, unclasping it and draping over a kitchen stool.

“Now the thong.”

I admired the elegant way she managed to remove the little black strip.

“Now put the courgette inside you.”

“Pl …”

“I don’t negotiate. Do it now, or pay the price.”

She leaned against the counter top, spread her thighs and placed the raw fruit against her labia. It was about 8 inches in length and slightly thicker at one end than the other.

“Other end !” I barked.

She’d chosen the thinner end. She looked at me and rotated the courgette in her hand. Then she put it in place and gave a gentle push.

Her mouth opened in a wide ‘o’. She couldn’t look at me.

She was undoubtedly moist and hot. The veggie slid in easily.

“You like being treated like this, don’t you ?”

She mouthed the word ‘no’ and shook her head but she still avoided my gaze. I flicked the cameras onto ‘pause’ and walked over, cupping her tits in my hands, squeezing softly.

“Don’t worry.” I whispered. “You’re meant to enjoy it too.” I smirked. “Well, most of the time.”

I slid one arm down her thigh and took hold of the courgette dildo.

“Let me help.”

She gasped as it penetrated her properly. I studied her eyes as they wallowed in embarrassment. She let out a long whimper. There were over six inches inside her. Smooth as pushing a sharp knife through hot butter.

“This cunt was made for doing the rounds, doll. Maybe it was tight when you were a teenager but you must have put out too easily and often back then. So I won’t be bothering with this hole too often myself. I’ve got my own girlfriend for that.”

I paused, speaking clearly, letting her absorb every word I said.

“But I don’t want you going without. So I’ll find you some other dicks.”

She was looking up at me as I stood against her. Her nipples were hard and her skin hot to the touch. She seemed to be struggling to breathe.

“Please … you won’t pr … prostitute me ?”

I smiled kindly, cupping her cheek in my palm.

“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t plan to do that.”

She shut her eyes. With relief ? Or mixed with something else ?

“Men won’t pay you, doll.” I kissed her nose. “You’re going to pay them.”

Her eyes flew open. The whites flashed in shock.

I chuckled. “Yep. You have a fuck, it’s going to cost you.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that’s just too much.”

I shrugged. “I doubt that.”

Now she was pleading, eyes locked on mine, holding my wrists.

“Please … don’t take it too far. Look, it’s exciting. Even the blackmail. But that’s taking things … beyond. I would hate it. Please.”

I took a step back, letting my gaze roam up from her feet to her face.

“Look at you, Sally. You’re naked in your own kitchen with a courgette up your cunt. Cooking dinner for a man who’s already farted in your face and pissed in your mouth. A man you first met a week ago.”

She blushed, open mouthed, listening.

“I think,” I continued, “that I’m best qualified to decide what is, or isn’t, going too far. Aren’t I ?”

I could see it in her eyes. My words hitting home.

“Pl …”

“Oh, don’t give me any more crap ! …pleeeeeaaase.” I mocked her begging tone. Then I switched to a caring, softer manner, taking her hand in mine.

“Look, Sally. Trust me. I know what’s best. I won’t go too far, I promise. But you will fuck other men and pay me for the privilege.”

She was crying. Well, not really crying, just a few silent tears.

“H … how much ?”

I grinned. “That’s my girl. Always trying to negotiate. Well, it depends on various things. On the guy, or guys. There’ll be a discount for gang bangs. And the uglier guys will be cheaper. And it’ll vary according to the situation. A nice comfortable fuck in your bed will be more expensive than an upright shag down an alleyway. But the biggest variable will be whether you have an orgasm or not.”

She stared at me in utter disbelief.

“Yes.” I said. “So long as you’re just a cum dump it’ll be reasonably cheap. But the moment you get to enjoy it too much, the price shoots right up.”

“ … you’re …” She screwed her eyes shut. “I can’t think of the words”.

“Then don’t bother.”

I picked up a large carrot admiringly, twiddling it in my fingers.

“Now, you put this up your asshole and then get back to work.”

*** *** ***

That drive felt the longest I have ever done. The roads were quiet, dark and wet. Occasional headlights coming in the opposite direction dragged my concentration back to the wheel. Who knew what was going on at home ? And yet, here I was, with £250 drawn from the bank, on top of the four hundred and twenty quid we’d spent at the shops, driving to collect two complete strangers.

Eventually, just before six, I arrived at an ordinary little clutch of houses in a modern development. I found number 6. The names on the piece of paper were Don and Joan, but I knew nothing more about them. I rang the bell.

After a wait, a man opened the door. He stared at me.

“Gordon ?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yeah ?” he repeated, mimicking my accent. “Yeah what ?”

“Yes … Sir.”

“Better.”

He was older, probably fifty-plus, with a close-cropped balding head, an uncouth face and a fat belly stretching the buttons of his shirt.

He called back into the house. “Car’s here !”

I heard a woman’s voice saying she’d be one minute.

“Go hold the car doors open.” He said to me, shutting the door in my face.

It was way more than a minute before the front door opened again. I stood in the cold, evening air and asked myself for the umpteenth time what the fuck I was doing. Sure, the film of us would be excruciatingly embarrassing if it were posted on the net. I’d never get over my parents and close friends seeing it. But was the threat really bad enough to hold us ? To blackmail us into all this ? I had an image of Sally being molested by the man who’d opened the door to me. His double-chinned, leering face.

All I knew was the hole we were digging was getting deeper by the day.

“So, you’re Gordon ?” she said, perusing me.

She looked like a prostitute. She was wearing a black coat, with her hair overly done up and loads of makeup on her face. I’d guess she was mid-forties but she could have been sixty. It was hard to gauge her figure under the coat but my impression was that she wasn’t in as bad shape as her husband. She smiled blandly. There was a smudge of bright lipstick on her teeth.

“Yes … Ma’am.”

She climbed into the back of my BMW. I closed her door and then rushed around and helped Don get in next to her.

“Drive us in silence.” She said. “Speak only when you’re spoken to.”

I listened to them for the first half hour of the journey, talking as if I wasn’t there; about everything from some relative of theirs, to a TV soap they watched, to an email they’d just received. I soon gathered they were active advertisers on a bdsm community website.

Finally, she raised her tone and spoke to me.

“So, Gordon, what are your main likes … and dislikes ?”

*** *** ***

By seven fifteen, everything was set; dining table, drinks, food prepared, cameras on standby.

I’d cum twice with my girlfriend that morning before we got up and had our row. But the combination of surfing porn sites on my laptop and watching Sally work naked with both her holes stuffed had replenished my balls.

“Come here.”

I crooked my finger. She stood by me chair and I spread her thighs, teasing the courgette out of her cunt. Her labia clung to it stickily. Then I turned her round and tugged the carrot from her anus.

“Try.”

I held it to her lips. It looked clean enough to me.

She gave me that look I’d already come to recognise. It said, damn you’re disgusting. But she opened her mouth and sniffed the tip.

“Smell good ?”

She rolled her eyes at me. Then she moved her head and bit off about an inch from the carrot I was holding. I watched her crunch it in her mouth.

I smiled and guided her eyes to my laptop screen.

There she was, on the net, free to view. The 4 minutes clip of her masturbating had a 4.00 rating. Not bad for something pretty tame. Her face, tits and pussy were all clearly visible throughout.

“You’re a star.”

She gave me another look. “You realise if my parents see that …”

“They shouldn’t be looking at porn sites. And you shouldn’t have been so dim and kinky that you went in search of somebody like me.”

I didn’t mean it. But it felt so good rubbing her face in it.

“Don’t worry, doll. You know I need to hold back the really good stuff, otherwise I’ll lose my blackmail material. You do as you’re told and you won’t become too infamous !”

She bit her lip, staring at herself rubbing her clit.

“Wh … what about when you’ve … finished with us. How do we know you won’t p … post it then ?”

“Finished, Sal ?” I shook my head chuckling. “Don’t kid yourself my sweet. This doesn’t finish ! This is it. This … is your life.”

End of Part Two

The End ?