Helen's Blackmail
It was an unprecedented time. The world it seemed, was on pause. Life was perhaps still going on, but not obviously so. Stay in your homes, was the constant refrain. Stay where you are. No meeting other households. No going out. No having fun.
Lockdown.
This was not good news for anyone, and everyone felt their own personal torments. Helen did too. Felt her own, very individual woes. Restrictions on travel meant that she was unable to see her blue eyed lover; unable to feel his hands on her body; unable to feel his kiss on her lips.
Stay where you are.
Don't interact.
And in her case, no more sex it seems.
It meant weeks of no physical contact and the belief that her pussy lips were actually beginning to heal together, despite the cute little rings that adorned her labia, gently and constantly tugging them apart. Despite the memories of her exploits that had caused her fingers to play with her clit on so many evenings, time will always take its toll. Boredom always ends up setting in.
She did have drop earrings that she could attach to the rings, but these had been removed after the evening on the bike as they weren't a practical addition for everyday living. She was also the proud owner of a crystal ended chrome steel butt plug which currently took pride of place on her dressing table, resting on red tissue paper back in its box. She took long wistful looks at it each morning but unfortunately now without the impetus to use it.
Her personally adapted jeans were now hanging over a rail back in her closet after spending a week following their use on a hanger hooked over a wardrobe valance. A visit from a family member had caused their emergency hiding away, but she had never bothered to take them back out.
All in all, Helen was feeling pretty morose with lockdown after the prior weeks of sexual excitement and experimentation.
She missed her tall, well built lover. She missed his presence and his gentle domination of her. She missed his biddings and her eager pleasing of him. She missed the taste of his cock and the emanating copious ejaculate. She missed holding his arms and body and the feeling of him inside her.
Until the terse text from him which made her breathe a little harder...
Life sometimes got in the way of personal pleasures but he always seemed to have a knack to pull her out of it at the most opportune time. The message was not an epistle; did not expand, but the two words gave cause for thought as she contemplated them.
'Blackmail time!'
What on Earth did that mean? She associated that term with financial concerns of influencial people striving to hide their mistakes. Ruinous mistakes.
She was neither influencial nor financially well-to-do. And had not made any mistakes that she would rather pay to avoid the public knowledge of.
It snapped her out of her reverie though. The black contemplative mood that had pervaded her and dragged her down from the heady heights of the mall shopping trip greyed slightly.
Blackmail, huh?
Fate, do your worst.
What did she care?
Until the next message came through on her phone. The ping of notification. The vibration on the mantle where it lay. An urgent tone, compelling her to check it out.
'I will not contact you again until you have done as I say!'
No.
Please, no.
Anything but that.
His messages were the highlight of her day. Contact with the outside world. Knowing that somebody, somewhere was thinking of her. No matter how subdued she felt, how bored by the mundanity of regular life, a kind word or question of her health always lifted her spirits. The only words she heard or read on some days; the only personal connection.
And yet...
A slight pussy flutter of intrigue. He was planning another escapade of some description. He always had plans. This was going to be something erotic. Something naughty. Something that would focus her mind on her sex somehow.
This could be fun.
This most likely would be fun.
A deep breath. She centred herself and exhaled slowly.
This will be fun.
It was an irrelevant emotion anyway, there was nothing to consider or discuss. There wasn't any choice she could reasonably make in the matter. The bastard knew that too. His message was a statement of fact rather than a discussion point. Her body and mind was his to command. He knew it. She knew it.
Focusing on the phone app, one letter slowly at a time, she returned two letters in reply.
'ok.'
A contract of sorts, she knew that she had effectively sold her entire body to him like a remote controlled sex toy. Centred her quiet time thoughts to his whim once more. Placed her entire body at his disposal.
For the first time in days, she felt a slight moistening between her legs, the swell of her clit and a familiar flush in her neck.
This was silly, Helen, she scolded herself. Get a grip. He's like a hundred miles away and what could possibly be the worst he could do?
She had done so much in public already...
Taken pictures of her pussy
Ridden out on a motorcycle with a hole at the crotch of her jeans.
Worn that butt plug
Given and received oral sex.
What new challenges could there be? Where could he possibly take her now? It was not like they could leave the house, find anywhere open or even enjoy time together. What could he perhaps ask her to do?
Her mind started its usual tick over, latching onto the idea presented in the message and her mood lifted in response. The thought of a little excitement in her immediate future raised her temperature a touch and a trickle of possible events started playing in her head.
Shopping with the butt plug? Mundane now after that night on the bike. An easy ask. She had thought about doing it for herself anyway. It would be an opportunity to feel close to her lover; wear his gift proudly.
Reattaching the drop earrings? She was missing them already. It wouldn't take blackmail to make her put them on. He would know that. Why would he introduce that with the word 'blackmail'?
Using the cumpot on video perhaps? To be fair, it was the best way to masturbate now. Much cleaner than soaking the bed with her squirt... much less washing after and it actually added to the excitement of completing the act in front of a lens. He wouldn't need to threaten her with less contact to get her to do that. She was getting quite proficient too. Blase even. The glass had become a stalwart of her life.
Hmmm!
What could it be?
Going out and about in a state of limited dress was only really appealing when he was there to watch, intervene and coordinate her. If that was expected from her it would be an easy win, but would lack a lot of fun.
Helen's mind was taken with the idea and even though his next instruction didn't come that day, it had mulled over many possible scenarios.
...
The first instruction came the following morning with a wish that she acquired herself a dry wipe marker pen. An easy enough command to complete. She had an entire art supplies box to search through and a handy enough supermarket around the corner.
Intrigued as to what she was required to do with it, she carefully chose the right words to let him know. Breathing hard she typed...
'i have the marker pen!'
She was rewarded with a Facetime conversation early the next morning. After her usual ablutions and whilst enjoying a cup of coffee, she was surprised by an early ring of her phone and then his cheery face appearing on the app. She smiled happily at him, pleased by his appearance.
After the usual more basic conversation, and in answer to her breathless urgency to explain himself, he informed her of the blackmail task.
It was simple.
It was straightforward.
It was going to be effective.
He was expecting communication from her in black ink. Mailing him in black so to speak. But instead of paper, she was going to be using her body as the writing material.
Helen's heart beat a little stronger at this premise. She was in lockdown, rarely leaving the house and seemingly hiding herself away. It was not like anyone else would notice her body used as a notepad anyway. He hadn't asked her to use a permanent marker or even tattoo herself. Surely this would be a mild expectation on her, an easy win.
And writing on herself? Was he expecting paragraphs? Was he expecting legibility? Surely paper would be better. He could always find the right words but she always struggled to convey her thoughts.
The reason for the face-to-face became immediately apparent though as he told her that he would talk her through the first message...
Naked.
Of course naked.
She hadn't expected anything else. She slipped his stolen t-shirt off over her shoulders and held the camera phone at arm's length for him to observe her body. She had let the exercises slip some mornings, and this scrutiny spoke more to her than it did to him. A little extra flesh on her hips perhaps, a line below her belly. She resolved to start to complete them all again as soon as the conversation was over. She hated feeling as though she had disappointed him even though it was her own objective she was pursuing.
He was kind.
He didn't mention her abdomen tone.
He told her that she was beautiful.
She sucked in her belly anyway to compensate; she was her own worst enemy.
Under instruction, she placed the camera phone against the room skirting and sat down on the floor before it. She could see in the bottom corner of the screen her own image, her pussy gaping with each movement of her legs, the rings tugging the labia; her pert breasts trembling with each movement. Her mad hair at that time of the morning and the lack of makeup. She focused on his face though, his beautiful blue eyes. His smile. His cropped goatee beard. His firm chin. She wanted that mouth more than anything. Wanted to feel that tongue in her own mouth, on her body, between her legs.
To sit on his face, gyrate on that chin, to soak him with her squirt. She trembled from previous memories.
Her nipples slowly hardened at her thoughts. Slightly doe eyed, she bit her lip coquettishly. She wanted to stroke herself; to feel a pressure on her clit. She hadn't for days, but right there, right then, she felt the familiar buildup between her legs that told her she might need her cumpot very soon.
It had taken a single word and she had submitted her body in all its glory immediately. It didn't occur to her to deny his wishes.
Taking the pen, she then did as she was told. It was only two words she was expected to write. Simple to understand.
'INSERT HERE' one above the other on the soft area above her slit. Each word no more than an inch in height.
Clear.
Capitalised.
Emboldened print.
Each letter blackened and emphasised. An arrow too. Starting between the HE and the RE pointing down to her clit.
She completed the artwork and looked down at herself. It had been tricky for the first couple of letters effectively writing upside down but it hadn't been difficult. Tickled slightly in fact. Mesmerizing to feel the letters appear on her clean pale skin.
