Blackmailed

[Kendall]

Teaser: As soon as the call terminated, however, my smile faded. I took off the T-shirt and opened the bag, dreading, what I would find within. The familiar manilla folder on top, was set aside as I removed the other contents. A pair of running shorts and a sports bra. I put them on, shivering in fear and revulsion as I then reached for the envelope. Inside of it were a few items, each of which made my heart drop even lower.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

Disclaimer: The characters mentioned, herein, are merely constructs of the author's mind and any resemblance to anyone living, dead or living dead, is a complete and utter coincidence and unintentional. The author maintains exclusive rights.
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Index:

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5

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Title: Blackmailed
Author: @Kendall
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Blackmailed

Chapter 1


The bell rang and all the students grabbed their bags and chatting about weekend plans, a few said,
“Have a good weekend Ms. Erikson.” I had to force myself to smile, the pit in my stomach growing. Kyle Russell was the last out of the class. He gave me a smile.
“Later Ms. Erikson,” he said.
“See you Kyle,” I responded. I went to the teacher’s lounge gathered my things and headed home. As I arrived and got o ut of my car my heart dropped. There was the black sports bag with my initials sewed into the side. “A.E.” With shaking hands, I picked up the bag before fishing my keys out of my purse and entering my, empty, cold, dark, quiet, house. I walked into my bedroom, dropping the bag on my bed before I began stripping down as I headed into the shower. The hot water cascading down my body felt good but did little to make me feel any better inside. With my stomach in knots, I slipped on a T-shirt as I headed to the spare room we had converted into an office. I booted up the computer and checked my watch. My husband was assigned to Germany, and he was off duty shortly. I only had a few minutes to wait before he had called. I hit the ‘answer’ button and his handsome face appeared on the screen.
“Hi honey,” I said excitedly the fear and dread in my chest easing somewhat, at least for a few moments.
“Hi baby, how’re you?” He asked as some of his buddies acting up and showing off behind him, mostly for my benefit. A chorus of mocking “Hi baby,” called out from behind him. He smiled that huge, lovely smile and turned around a bit.
“Hey shuuuuut up,” he called out, half cocked smile but despite the teasing and goofing off, they did calm down somewhat. All the ‘army spouses’ got pretty much the same treatment. We talked for a bit but had to keep it fairly tame as all his buddies were moving and could hear anything either of us said and see what we did. Soon it was time to go. Since Germany was six hours ahead and he had an early morning, it was time for him to go to bed.
“Bye sweetheart, I love you.”
“Bye love,” he replied. A few of his army buddies called out, ‘Bye Annie,’ which made me smile. As soon as the call terminated, however, my smile faded. I took off the T-shirt and opened the bag, dreading, what I would find within. The familiar manilla folder on top, was set aside as I removed the other contents. A pair of running shorts and a sports bra. I put them on, shivering in fear and revulsion as I then reached for the envelope. Inside of it were a few items, each of which made my heart drop even lower. A locker key and a slip of paper, with where to find the locker for the key, where to go after. I walked back to my car in my running shorts and sports bra in the cold October evening air. I drove to the train station and located the lockers. I opened it and saw a wooden box with a heavy lock on it. I pulled it out and slid it in the black sports bag, as I had been instructed to bring it with me. Slinging it over my shoulder, I walked back out in the cold to begin the drive to where I was to go. I had felt and seen some eyes on me as I had gone about my business. The train station was the farthest possible public building from where I was to go. I turned off of Baker Street, onto Park Avenue. I could drive the route on autopilot as I was fairly familiar with it, having driven it so often. I knew the house by sight and number. I parked around the block in the far corner of an abandoned church parking lot and walked through the small catwalk. Across the small street at the end of the catwalk was the house I was told to go to. Behind the row of houses was a small field and past that, was a dark wooded ravine with a river at the bottom. In the rapidly falling night, I walked across the street. Anyone who looked out their window, would see me. I approached the house. The wall was about 2 feet above the sidewalk with the front lawn on that. Then about another three steps up to the front door. The entirety of the front of the house was one way glass. Past the steps was a driveway with covered carport at the end, under the house. I knocked on the door, positive that the entire neighbourhood could hear my heart. The door opened without a greeting. I stepped inside and, as the door closed, gracefully sank to my knees. The man walked past me toward the couch. He stopped and looked at me still on my knees. He slapped his leg.
“Bring the bag when you come.” I picked up the handle in my mouth and carried it to him. He sat on the couch with his legs spread. I moved in and nuzzled his crotch. He patted my head like an animal.
“Good girl, Annie,” said Kyle Russell said.
“Thank you, sir.”

[Shocker]

Don’t take this the wrong way, but I sincerely hope that I will get to the end of this story, without the forum dying . Well, all good things come in threes.

[Kendall]

Chapter 2:

I heard my 19-year-old student laugh softly. Grasping a fistful of my hair, he lowered my face to the softly carpeted floor. Being unable to see, I closed my eyes and focused on what I could hear. He reached into the bag, removing the wooden box. I heard the heavy lock knock the wood of the box as he did so. He stood, presumably to retrieve the key from his pocket. His weight shifted and I heard the couch give a slight groan as he sat again. As I listened, he laughed as the lock clicked. He quickly removed the lock and stood again. This time, he stepped around me and knelt, his knees straddling my chest. He ran his left hand through my hair, yanking my head backward. I felt a hard rubber ball go between my teeth and he quickly pulled straps and buckled the straps behind my head at least pulling my hair free of the buckle.
“I had enough of your voice in class today,” he chuckled. He then grabbed my wrists, wrenching them behind me, pressing my face against the floor. I felt a pair of zipties secure my wrists snugly behind me.
“Can’t leave marks that will be asked about, can we?” He manhandled me to move up so my forehead was resting on the couch but I was staring at the ground. He placed that picture, the picture that was the cause of all of this, the picture that kept me coming back to my student’s parent’s house every time they were away.
Being raised in South Carolina in a rather conservative church going family, I was taught to save myself for marriage, which I had…almost. He had proposed, and we decided we would get married when his short 6 month deployment was over. Three weeks before he had arrived home, lonely and desperate, I let myself get picked up at a bar and had one night stand, completely consensual. I don’t know how, but this 19 year old in my class, had somehow gotten his hands on a picture of this man and I in the midst of this affair. One day after school as I walked out to my car, a sheet of paper was folded up under my windshield wiper, assuming it was an advertisement, I missed that no other car had one, when I unfolded it I saw the picture. I couldn’t allow my husband to see it so I agreed to let Kyle do as he wished with the promise that he would make sure nobody, not my husband, the school or my church would ever see the pictures. If I resisted or didn’t go along with everything he said, he would make sure everyone saw it. I’d never be able to show my face in the school or my church and my husband would divorce me.
I stared down at the picture, as tears formed in my eyes.
“Awww, Ms. Erikson,” he mocked, “I haven’t even started yet. I’ll give you something to cry about.” I felt the shorts getting pulled down my legs. There had been no panties in the bag and I knew better than to wear anything other than what he had put in the bag. The first strike, though expected still stung. More tears fell from my eyes as a student that had been writing a test I had given out just a few hours earlier, was now spanking my bare bottom. His spanking continued until my ass was sore and hot and even a touch made it throb. I felt him grab my hair with his left and line up behind me and I knew what was about to happen.

[Kendall]

Chapter 3

felt Kyle’s hard cock against my ass, my burning ass. I yelped at the pain behind my gag, causing a low chuckle from Kyle.
“Does that hurt, Ms. Erikson?” I’m not sure what was more humiliating, him using “Annie” or “Ms. Erikson” as he did at school when his mask was up. I felt his cock at the entrance to my ass, knowing he would enter slowly to cause more pain than was necessary, simply because he could. Kyle’s was the only cock, ever in my ass. Sex with my husband was always vanilla, sometimes sweet and gentle, and sometimes, rough and hard, but always vanilla. Kyle, though was always rough and had the stamina of the jock he always had been until he had gotten his hands on that damned picture. He had claimed all three holes more than once. With a savage thrust, Kyle’s head was inside and my burning ass screamed in pain, as did I. With a laugh, Kyle thrust again burying himself halfway in. The pain was so intense, it robbed my voice and I screamed silently into my gag. He reached up and pulled as much hair as he could into a ponytail, held by his left hand as his right hand, slid down my back, almost sensually, to my hips, pausing long enough to tug on the zip tie securing my wrists behind me. Using my hair and my hips, he shoved forward, embedding himself fully inside me causing me to moan piteously. He moved his right hand and slapped my already burning ass causing me to squeal in misery. He let out a strange half grunt.
“Still tight back here, bitch,” he said, through gritted teeth. He began thrusting in and out, his balls slapping, for a few moments there was silence broken by my soft whimpers and his balls slapping my behind. His thrusts became harder and more violent, more aggressive. My mewls of pain and humiliation seemed to drive him to hurt and humiliate me more. He went on and on, seemingly for hours. I felt his cock vibrate and a moment later, I felt his baby batter pulsate into my ass. It wasn’t the first time but was just as humiliating as the first. He stayed buried inside of me, long after he was done. He undid the buckles of my gag, silently. I knew what he wanted to hear. It was always the same thing, always the same, disgusting, humiliating words.
“Your bitch thanks you for granting her the gift of your cum, sir,” I said the humiliating words I had learned from repetition. He leaned forward and kissed the top of my head then petting it like one would a good puppy.
*Good girl, Ms. Erikson.” Kyle never seemed to waste an opportunity to humiliate me. He went back to the bag and removed a small leather strap. He unshackled the cuffs returning them to the bag and pulled up the shorts. He slipped the small leather strap around my neck. It wasn’t the first time I wore this collar.

[Shocker]

Lovely chapter, I think I’m now all caught up and looking forward to the new parts.

[Claire]

@Kendall I added the required index for multipart stories to your first post. It would be nice if you could keep that index up to date with future updates to your story. I used the story template for nonconsensual stories to do that in the quickest way. While I was at it, I was so free to take a short excerpt of chapter 1 and made it the teaser for the story. If a user now hovers with their mouse over the title in the topic list, it will show them the teaser text. If you don't like it, feel free to write another teaser or just remove the existing one if you don't want to use one at all. But I thought you might like to see what the topic preview feature looks like in action in one of your own stories.

[Kendall]

Chapter 4

The cold steel chain was gently draped around me as Kyle attached the end of it to the collar around my throat. He proceeded to cut the zip ties that bound my wrists behind me.
“Up, puppy,” he said sharply. I pushed myself to my knees, my hands folded in my lap. He backed up a step before placing a foot between my shoulder blades and pushing forward. Placing my newly freed hands before me, I settled onto my hands and knees, like the puppy he called me.
“I expect my good little bitch is hungry.” I was of course. I hadn’t enough time to shower, call my husband, have dinner and arrive at Kyle’s when he told me to be there. This was part of his little ritual. I would arrive wherever he would direct me to be, he would humiliate and fuck me, then we would have dinner. I nodded at his question, even though my response mattered little. He led me by the leash to his kitchen. He turned and extended his hand and helped me off of my knees and, even pulled my seat out for me, as if he hadn’t spent the last 45 minutes humiliating, fucking me, and abusing me. I thanked him and sat down. He removed something from the fridge and slid it into the microwave and after a few times, he placed a lasagna on the counter.
“It has to sit for a few moments puppy,” he said as he ran his fingers through my hair. I was seething by now but, if that picture or any other picture he may have taken of us together that looked halfway consensual was made public, I was finished, my life would be over, so he could touch me however he wanted and, of course, he knew it. He looked past me and rose walking to the far side of the kitchen. I heard the gentle, almost inaudible squeak of the cupboard door behind me, open, I heard him pick up something, then the equally silently, the door closed. He walked to behind me and forced my head onto the table. My ass rose off the seat about an inch or two. He used his other hand to pull the chair away. I heard something knock against the wooden back of the seat as he pulled it away. He stepped between the chair and me. He yanked my running shorts again and I felt something against my ass, but it wasn’t his cock this time. As soon as the small nub entered my ass, it began to widen instantly. I had only ever heard of an anal plug before being blackmailed by Kyle now, I was quite familiar with them. The pain was intense.
“What does puppy say?”
“Thank you, sir.” I managed through gritted teeth. He patted my cheek, patronizingly.
“Good puppy,” he said with a smirk. He seemed to have settled on his name for this evening. In the past he had used my name, “Annie”, he had used what he called me in school, “Ms. Erikson”, sometimes he had called me “It”. While it wasn’t the first time he’d used “puppy”, he’d never used it almost exclusively, usually only once or twice. He pulled the shorts down and pulls the chair back, knocking the back of my knees. I stood, my eyes on the floor the words I wanted to say ran through my head but I knew what would happen. He sliced the lasagna and placed it on two plates, he placed one plate before me and one across from me where he would sit.
“Sit puppy,” he growled. I sat down, hissing in pain as the plug was forced further in. I poked at the pasta on the plate. Perhaps he mistook that as wondering how he could cook a whole lasagna in a microwave in a few minutes.
“Don’t worry Annie, I cooked it before you came over so I just hadta’ reheat it.” I looked up and allowed myself a small smile. He’d called me by my name and not ‘puppy’. I wasn’t sure if he’d done it intentionally or not. As much as I found him using my name humiliating, I much preferred it to “puppy”.
“Eat up. We’re going out afterwards,” he said the smirk on his face. My heart sank again.

[Kendall]

I looked at the time on the microwave as Kyle tidied up the kitchen, putting the remainder of the lasagna back into the fridge. He put our plates and silverware in washer and started it. It was a few minutes before 8:00 as he turned to me. He took the end of the leash and silently pointed to the floor.
“Sit, stay,” he said, still pointing at the floor, as if directing a dog. He walked away and I heard him ascending the stairs. Of course, I wanted to run, take out the anal plug, pull my shorts up, run to my car and drive home. Of course, we both knew why I couldn’t, why I wouldn’t. He wasn’t gone long. He had an overnight bag with him, his other hand his keys. He looked at me for a second and chuckled.
“Teacher is pet,” he said as he gently pulled the leash upward, a sign I was to stand. It wasn’t the first time he said that. In fact, he would usually mention it at least once during our times together.
“Pull up your shorts and let’s go.” I bent over and pulled them up my legs and winced as the fabric pressed against the plug still in my anus. He took the leash and placed his hand at the small of my back. To anyone looking out their window they would see a man being a gentleman. Kyle certainly was going to be anything but gentle. I led Kyle to where I had parked my car, at the edge of the old church parking lot, in the last stall away from surveillance cameras and neighbours. He fished out my keys and opened my door for me. For the second time, the perfect gentleman. As I sat in the driver’s seat, he grabbed my left arm and, using a ziptie affixed my left wrist to the armrest on the door. He circled to the passenger’s side and produced chain linked handcuffs and shackled my wrist to the steering wheel. The plug was forced even higher up my anus and the discomfort became pain.
“Where am I going, sir?” swallowing my revulsion at calling a student of mine, ‘sir’.
“Your house,” he said softly, then reaching up to run his finger along my collar, “my little puppy.” It wasn’t a total surprise. He had fucked me on the bed where my husband and I made love, more times than I could count. Sometimes we would be at a fancy hotel or a shitty motel. He was going to fuck me, he was going to be rough and hard, wherever we were. My own house, my own bed, was just another way to humiliate me. A reminder that he, not I, controlled my life. I wised, for maybe the millionth time my husband was home from deployment. I wished Kyle’s parents didn’t spend their winters in warm and sunny Florida. I wish I hadn’t had that one night stand just before I got married. But none of those things were true and I drove home with my blackmailer next to me. I could almost drive home from Kyle’s, for memory, I had done it so often. I had the thought more than once that I could just barrel into the trees over into the rive, but given the church’s view on suicide, I always pushed those thoughts aside. It wasn’t that long after, we pulled into my driveway. He hit the garage door opener and only slowing down slightly, I brought the car to a gentle stop as the door began to close behind us. I put the car in park, turned off the ignition and placed the keys in Kyle’s left hand and patiently waited for him to free me. He waited for me in front of the door that led into the house. He reached out and grasped the end of the leash he had me on and, unlocking the door, led me into my own house on a leash. Even before the door was closed, I was already on my knees. I begin to crawl toward the stairs. I felt a sharp pull on the collar.
“Where do you think you’re going, Annie?”
“To the bedroom, sir?”
“Did I tell you to go to the bedroom?”
“No sir but…”
“That’s right. I didn’t. Bad puppy.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I hung my head. “Bad puppy” usually meant some kind of “discipline” which could be physical, or more likely, sexual. He made me crawl to the living room.
“Stand up, puppy.” I followed the order. He pulled down the shorts. “You don’t need these anymore.” I stepped out of them, and Kyle kicked them across my living room. He roughly shoved me forward, forcing me to bend over the arm of my sofa. Placing my hands behind my back, as I had been trained to do, I closed my eyes and began to breath deeply. His left hand was on my ass and he took a moment to squeeze and paw at my ass cheek. Then with a hard pull, the anal plug was finally removed. As I sagged in relief, I felt a hard swat on my ass. Then another…and another…and another. I whimpered in pain. As I waited for another, I heard his belt unbuckle, and his pants drop to the floor. He reached over to the bookshelf and removed the picture of my husband and placed it in front of me on the sofa. He then, lined up behind me, his left hand on my hip and I felt his cock touch my rear opening and scrunched up my eyes.
“Ready Annie? If you’re not, too fucking bad.” He thrust forward and I moaned. He chuckled. “That’s right Annie, moan like a whore while you’re lookin’ at your husband.”

[Shocker]

And another great use of her situation, having to look at the picture of her husband is so evil. I fully approve.

[Kendall]

I moaned miserably, my eyes on my husband who often sat with me on the couch I was being fucked on. Fucking me in my own house, on my own couch, while looking down at my husband who only ever touched me in love, was the depths of humiliation. I felt Kyle plunge all the way in his balls again slapping against me as he grunted in lust and I moaned in pain and humiliation. This was a bitter pill to swallow. My student had become my master and I was unquestionably his lowly bitch. His plaything to rape until he got bored with me. His endurance was incredible and he knew how to make it last long, how to wring as much humiliation and pain out of me, using my body as he saw fit. Of course, no one can last forever, a thought not lost on me as it was only 8:30 on Friday evening of long weekend, which meant, nobody would miss her for almost 83 hours. Over 80 hours of rape, torture, and humiliation. Even Kyle, who, admittedly, had longer endurance than my husband, had his limits. He shot deep into my innards emptying himself inside me for the second time that day. He stayed buried inside me for another few minutes. I wished he would take it out of me. Eventually, he did, wiping himself off with my hair, just another way to humiliate me. I began to wonder if I should report him and damn the consequences. I could go to another state and change my name and start over again. But he had already told me if I moved state, he would post the pics of me and my single indiscretion along with the pics of ‘us together’ to my Facebook page for my co-workers and members of my church and, of course, my husband, to see. As the man was an influential in the community, it would ruin him, his business and his family and marriage as well. Kyle left the room, and I heard the distinct squeak and the restroom door closing. I stayed in place, waiting his return. After several minutes, I heard the toilet flush and a minute later, the shower turn on. As much as I wanted to shower to wash him and his fluids off of me, I knew that Kyle didn’t do anything unless it could cause pain, humiliate me, or both. Forcing me to shower with him, was particularly humiliating for me. Not that being dominated by one of my students 13 years my junior wasn’t humiliating enough of course. He strode out of the restroom and grabbed the leash.
“Come, bitch,” he said without looking at me and just walking. I had to crawl after him or risk being dragged by my neck. I winced as my sore knees were forced to walk on the hard tiles of the restroom floor past the sinks, and toilet to the shower stall. He leaned over and undid the collar and laid it on top of my favourite towel on the counter beside the frosted glass of the shower stall. At the top of the glass, the frosted glass gave way to clear glass, ending a few inches from the ceiling. Steam poured from over the top and crawled up the clear glass frosting it as well. He grabbed a handful of my sweat soaked, soiled hair, and pulled me up to my knees and began to take off the sports bra, leaving me completely nude under his lustful gaze. He looked at me as he began to strip down before ordering me into the shower. I stood under the hot stinging water, letting it cascade down my body. Closing my eyes, I raised my head to get my hair wet, I wanted to comb out his baby batter when he had pulled his cock out of my ass. Standing, with my back to the door, eyes closed, upturned head, I heard the door open behind me and two steps of bare feet on wet linoleum. As the door slid closed, I felt his body press against mine, two arms snaked around my body and placed his hands on my breasts. He began to twist and pinch my nipples between his thumb and first two fingers. Slowly the attention to my nipples became painful and I began to whimper. During some of the most painful ‘games’ he played with me, there were times where he would tell me “Be quiet and take it like a good girl,” but he neither stopped, nor reminded me so I whimpered as he played with and toyed with my sore nipples. Abruptly, his hands disappeared, and a luffa was dropped at my feet. Often when we showered, I was to wash him before washing myself. Apparently, this time was no different. I bent over to pick it up and he gave me a hard swat to my still sore anus. I swallowed an obscenity laden scream at him, and obediently picked it up, squirted the scented bodywash into the luffa and slowly began to wash his wide shoulders, well defined arms, strong back and sides. He turned to face me, and I washed his shoulders, again before moving to his chest, and stomach. I reached around him as I cleaned his hips. As I rinsed out the luffa and prepared to wash his lower body, I dreaded what would come next. I placed the luffa down and faced him, my head held straight, but my eyes downcast.
“What are you waiting for, bitch?” I squeezed a small handful of bodywash into my hands, then reached down and grasped his cock. I gave him a slow, sensual hand job as I washed his cock. Was this worth the picture getting released? For the moment, I was ready to tell Kyle to fuck himself and release the picture or pictures as I was sure he had taken more than a few of us together. Then I thought of my husband. This was his last tour of duty and we had talked about starting a family when he returned. I couldn’t do that to him. So, I gave Kyle a hand job as he wanted while working in the soap. Giving my rapist a handjob made me sick but I tried to imagine it was my husband.
“Good girl Annie,” he growled, shattering the illusion. After a minute of the handjob, he had me rinse him off and stepped out of the stall. I took my time washing to avoid having to spend one more minute than I had to with Kyle Russell.