Blacmailed at First

For the rest of our time in San Diego, I had a personal, private slut who would have sloppy, squishy, screaming sex with me—anytime, anyway, anyplace, anyway, anywhere, with anybody.

She said it, repeated it often and she meant it.

I got to fuck her hard, deep and fast. I also got to make slow, careful love with her. I got to fill her ass with my cum and watch her swallow my load, throat working to keep up with the flow. We sexed in the bed. On the couch. On top of the running washing machine. On the table. In a hard chair and a low wing-back chair. In my small back yard. In the car.

Anywhere I asked for sex, I had her, with no hesitations or regrets afterward.

"It's what loving sluts do," she said.

Waking just before she did, when Cyndi opened her eyes, even before she could take a breath and say a word, I put my forefinger over her lips and said, "No more confessions from now until you leave to go back to Sindi's Place. I've heard all that I need to and a lot of what I really didn't want to know. Let's take the rest of your 'vacation' with me and go around the city and have some fun."

"No, I don't care if I'm seen with a notorious porn-whore queen. Actually, it's kind a turn-on."

That said, I sprinted for the bathroom, to take care of 'morning wood.' OK, you try pissing with a full erection and see how far you get. The best way is to piss into a shower or bathtub and then turn the water on, afterward. Be sure to wash off the walls, too.

Then what do you do with the big erection, after you piss? Well, there's this hot porn slut I happened to have around ...

She chose a set of short-shorts and the crop-top blouse plus sandals. No bra or panties. I packed a picnic lunch and we had a scratch breakfast. I headed for the San Diego Zoo, where we took the guided tour, twice. She liked the monkey house best, especially when the little female monkeys chased the bigger males and then forced the big males to have sex with them, up against the windows.

So many of the zoo patrons were embarrassed. Cyndi just promised to have monkey sex with me in the parking lot, in the car.

When we left the zoo gates, I had to sprint to catch up with her, getting to the car. She had a towel on the back seat, and her naked behind spread out on that towel before I could get the car doors closed.

People, that's OK for teens, who are really flexible, but when you get a few years on, you can get a crick in your back that doesn't quit. That, of course, didn't stop her. She oozed jizm out her cunt for a half-hour, onto the towel, after I drove out of the parking lot, trembling.

Next was an organ concert at the Balboa Park pavilion, followed by the picnic lunch I packed. Desert was fresh, liquid pussy, lapped up by me, as she quietly screamed into the crop-top she had stuffed in her mouth. Desert was done under the trees and bushes of the arboretum. Luckily, I had the good sense to save half the wine for after-desert, to kill the taste of freshly-squirted pussy juice. Having white wine with freshly-squeezed sex-juice is wonderful. This time, she was the one trembling when we left the lunch spot.

The afternoon was spent just lying around on the grass of Balboa Park and talking of this and that. I told her stories of doing my 'finding' where most of the companies I was working for and with didn't want some illegal, immoral (or fattening) stuff to be 'found.'

For an example, there was the former executive who was sneaking sensitive patent data out of the closely-guarded research building, by hiding the flash-drive it was copied to inside a condom and that shoved up the vagina of his personal assistant. Only by chance did she start to have her monthly period, with a heavy flow, where the whole bloody package came flowing out, right where I happened to be stationed. I got a big bonus for that job, when they all said I was a wizard of detection. It was just plain, old, dumb luck I was there when her flow started and 'plop,' out it fell at my feet.

Cyndi talked to me about the porn business and of the crazy things that happen when you mix-up a combination of explicit sex with money, emotion, possessiveness, kink and power-trips."

For instance, there was the tale about the powerfully-built, big-cock, manly-man porn star, pounding into the little barely-legal girl, but frequently looking up to see his male partner jacking off his hard dick, just out of camera range. That being the only way the manly-man performer could keep his obviously gay hard-on hard.

By evening, I got her back home, to bathe, and change. Then back into town for a Thai dinner, with just enough time to catch a front-row seating of The Taming of the Shrew at the Old Globe Theater.

Walking out, she said, in a little voice, "I was kind of a shrew, wasn't I?"

I said, "Yes, you were, right up to and through the bang. Then you took yourself down. I didn't tame you. You had to do that all by yourself. You had to learn impulse and temper control. You were successful, too. I like the new Cyndi-slut a lot more than the old married-to-me model. Not just for the slut you've become, but for the whole package, including being an independent business woman. I'm gonna miss you a lot when you have to go back and do more porn scenes at Sindi's Place."

She sniffled a little, through a few tears, and pleaded, "Can't you just take a couple more days off and come to the Simi Valley with me on the train. I can show you the studio and maybe you want to look at some of the videos of me you don't have. I can wear some of the costumes I have and you can get some more real slutty sex, right there in a real porn movie studio."

"There's a real nice motel right up the street a few blocks. It's where I put up the amateurs I shoot porn with. Maybe you can watch me fuck around with the girls and guys. Maybe ..."

I put a forefinger up to her lips again, and said, "Way ahead of you, little girl. I'm going to get you in the car and drive us up there. Yes, I can stay at the motel."

"You fucking with girls, I think I'm OK about. I'm not real sure about watching you fuck with other men, because that's what the gang-fuck was all about and, even after 3 years has passed, I'm still kind of raw about that part of our past life. I can watch you fuck on DVD or video, but watching live fucking of my woman—even if she is a slut—is something else, again."

"So we'll see. You've changed a lot over the last years. I like having a personal, private slut. One who trusts me completely, even to tying her up or not using condoms. Surely I can change, too. Let's give it some time. After all, the new Cindi and I just met, in a manner of speaking."

Once home, we found out I was completely fucked out and couldn't raise a hard-on to save my soul. She was a bit bummed out until I grabbed her and stripped her bare (not hard to do, as she was only wearing a barely-there, baby-doll nightie, and that mostly made of sheer black gauze).

So I got her on her back and then lapped her neck, ears, shoulders, her pussy, her thighs, her 'taint' and her clit, while she screamed and orgasmed. Then I used a battery-vibrated dildo with clit-fingers on it, working it in and out, while I licked and sucked her hard-as-rocks nipples plus more on her ears, neck and shoulders. Tickled her thighs. Re-licked her clit and re-penetrated her cunt with my fingers, finding the G-spot with ease.

I was treated to an ear-splitting series of yells, screams, shrieks, a flow of obscene dirty talk plus heaving and thrashing, until she fainted. It only took half an hour for her to faint, recover and demand that I do it all again.

I watched in awe as her last orgasm came on and continued, with trembling of her thighs, twerking her hips and flailing her arms, with her eyes rolled up in their sockets. It must have lasted 3 minutes. Her lips started turning a bit blue, before she could take another breath.

The gauze nightie became gauze rags.

We slept the sleep of the totally fucked out.

The next 3 days, we started to do San Diego as a tourist. We did the Wild Animal Park. The harbor excursion. The Star of India. Restaurants and bars. Some dancing. Time at the beach, where Cyndi had on a Brazilian bikini that imitated dental floss.

I took her to an upscale strip club. Then I took her to another club, featuring amateur night, where my personal slut did such a lewd act on stage, it caused the management to offer her a permanent slot in their regular shows. On and on.

Plus just sitting around my home, nude and caressing each other while we half-dozed.

The remaining 3 days sped by.

But on day 6, we had to pack her back up and drive to Simi Valley and get her back to Sindi's Place, to begin shooting another series of amateur scenes for the next video she'd contracted.

She was already leaking tears as she loaded her one little case into my car. She pointedly showed me that she was nude under her traveling pants and blouse. I packed a small, 'overnight' case.

I also had a plan. Part of it had already been done, while she slept, the 2nd day.

The drive up was the usual LA freeway run, with light traffic (for LA). Cyndi had opened her blouse and skinned out of her trousers, so she was nude, riding with her legs up on the passenger's side dashboard. She fingered herself in a frenzy into freely -flowing sex-juice.

She denied me the delight of sticking my fingers inside her while I drove, not because she didn't want it—because she did—but that I couldn't keep a good grip on the steering wheel with my right hand thickly-coated with slippery, free-flowing, female sex-juice.

I liked riding with a show-off porn slut.

I told her so.

She replied that she'd be naked underneath whatever clothes she wore around me, for as long as I was with her. This was the new Cyndi, which I liked far better than the former, low-self-esteem, punishing version. Then she recited her 'Any' list: slutty sex with me anytime, anyway, anyplace, anyway, anywhere, with anybody.

Cyndi got me into the local Hempstead motel, but I put myself in a two-room suite with a hot-tub-Jacuzzi. Then, finally we visited the physical offices of Sindi's Place. Which was a simple back door on a light-industrial warehouse, divided up into a number of small specialized areas with partitions.

She showed me around, from the actors and actresses dressing rooms, bathroom and costume areas, to a series of partitioned-off areas, each decorated according to common porn themes. All of them were 3-sided and provided with bright lights, moved from one area to another. There was the typical bedroom, with the king-sized bed, complete with two nightstands and a chair.

Another area was a stereotypical classroom, with chalk-board, a desk and student chairs. Another was a typical living room, with a long couch or sofa and two end-tables on either end. There was a complete bathroom, but a lot bigger than most, with a shower and tub enclosure. There was an arch-typical doctor's examining room complete with a gyno examine table and stirrups for the model's feet, to spread her pussy open during the 'examination.'

Finally, Cyndi pointed out the editing room, with quite a bit of electronic stuff for making quality DVDs, plus a computer and backup gear for keeping records.

She even had a real kitchen, with snacks and cold drinks, which doubled as a porn set for kitchen sex.

Way in the back, though, there was a small door that Cyndi kept trying to steer me away from, so naturally I drew on my slut-to-order voice and made her open it. Inside was a single bed with a single pillow and ratty blankets. There was a little old refrigerator, a microwave oven, an old wing-back chair, a battered desk and an equally battered old boom-box AM/FM radio, fitted with earphones.

I asked, very quietly, "Your own room?" Dribbling tears again, she nodded 'yes'.

She went on, "I have to spend so much to keep the studio open and I pay the very best wages for my crew. Porn doesn't pay near as much as it used to, what with all the amateur and free content out there. I make a living, but sometimes there isn't much left over, so I save whenever I can. This little room is where I learned not to be impulsive and to keep my temper under control."

I gestured for her to sit down on the bed, and then told her to take off her clothes. For the first time, she protested, saying, "Why don't we go out to the studio and fuck there. I want to fuck you right now. Let's ..."

I 'shushed' her with a forefinger. Despite protests, she peeled off her top and dropped her pants, as ordered, like a good slut. I spread her legs, knelt down and started licking her pussy, cunt and clit, while tweaking her nard-nippled boobs. I think, in under a minute, I had a screaming, spasming, twisting demon on the bed, legs up in the air, as she lurched and tried for as little contact with the surface as possible, just neck and butt, back arched.

I drove her into orgasm after orgasm, but didn't try to penetrate her, because I had a plan.

A few hundred years later—or perhaps half an hour—I stood my wrung-out slut up on her trembling legs, and said, "OK, that's the last time you're gonna spend an overnight in your little prison here at Sindi's Place. You're going house hunting tomorrow, with me, right after you do your scheduled shoots and find a place to live, plus furnishing it, as suitable to the owner of a thriving little porn business. When you're not shooting or editing, you're house-hunting or in the motel with me, banging my brains out."

"Despite what you think of banks and mortgage companies not funding porn folks, you're gonna qualify for loans, because I've got your lovely little butt covered for over half of any amount, which is 50% down. Yes, I can pay, because now I have a slut and she needs support."

"Check your bank account, little girl. I think you'll find a healthy balance in your checking account, which can be transferred to your business account in an instant. You're not on a shoestring any more."

"Now, here is my next order. Remember, you said you'd fuck 'anybody.' So, little slut, you are hereby told to have enthusiastic, slippery, good, orgasmic sex with all your professional and amateur men and women. When you have to add sex to close a business deal, you have to make it loud, wet and as good for them as possible. No faking."

"When we're together, after you do the video camera or action as Sindi Suxgoode at Sindi's Place, you have to sex me in my room, unless you're too sore, but you have to be nude around me as much as possible and show off your beautiful, wonderful porn-star's body. When we're apart, you have to go to bed, thinking about me and what you want to do to me, next visit. Phone calls are good."

I added, "When I get back to see you, then you have to do all that you imagined or called me about."

"So, little girl, you never have to make a distinction between being a slut for me and being an independent porn-whore—which you love—because I'm telling you to do what you would do anyway, as part of the 'any' list you do for me as my personal slut."

To my last and final breaths on this planet, I will always treasure the memory of the face on my personal, private slut, as she displayed lust, shock, hope and surprise, all mixed together. It was lovely to watch. I think she went without taking a breath for half a minute. Wordlessly, she finally inhaled and screamed out loud, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!".

Somehow, she managed to launch herself across the width of her tiny, bare room and wrap her legs, arms and both tits around me, as she cried, orgasmed, sobbed and loudly complained that my one cock was gonna go so far into her, it would be permanently locked in place for a year.

Slithering down my body, she suddenly got quiet and said, "Stan, let's go out to the video area. No one is due to be here until tomorrow. I think the studio bedroom area is best." With that statement, Cyndi walked out of her small room and out into the studio area, nude for my vision, leaving her flat tennies, top and pants behind.

My dear God, she had a sexy wiggle.

I followed, thinking there'd be sex soon. There was, but not what I anticipated.

Cyndi had disappeared into the costume area at the far end of her studio. Several minutes later, she came back out, fully dressed.

What the ...?

She wore a button-up, sleeveless blouse and a short skirt. I even saw the outline a black bra. Long finger-tip-free gloves. A metal collar around her neck. Three-inch stiletto-heeled, bright red pumps. She carried 4 lengths of black tape in one hand, each tape having a spring-clip on either end. In her other hand was a small boom-box, with a CD for music sticking out of the slot.

She grinned a 100-watt smile and said one word, "Strip!"

I did.

Then I was told to lay back on the studio's bed, with my erected dick pointing straight up. Still grinning like a maniac, my fully-dressed porn-star slut started the CD of music, which had a good, solid bass beat. Throwing one leg over me and kneeling, she reached under her and guided my straining cock into her body. It felt wonderful, as I slid deep inside her body, right down to the end of my hard cock.

But then, my ex-wife attached all 4 of her spring clips to her metal collar, then clipped the other end to existing places in the surface of the bed. She was trembling, in a mixture of pleasure and deep fear. The tapes had enough free play to let her quiver and jerk but not to pull off my cock.

She was self-tied in place, forcing herself to have penetrative sex with her man. Terror and lust at the same time.

Cyndi said, quivering, "You know what I feel like all tied up, but since I'm your slut, you're gonna get fucked really good by your tied-down piece of cunt. My juice is gonna flow, not from fear but from pleasure and orgasm, because I. TRUST. YOU. to fuck my brains out. You're bareback into me, always. Your cum is gonna fill me up and I. WANT. IT."

"But first, here's the porn-whore's strip I promised you, a week ago."

Then, my formerly-cheating, gang-fucking, slutty, blackmailed, porn-whore ex-wife did a sexy strip, all the while tied to me, with my hard cock jammed deep inside her flowing cunt. The music thundered. Her right glove came off, slowly, as she gyrated her hips. Then the left glove. She orgasmed, thrusting up and down, screaming out my name and hers.

Her blouse went next, slowly yielding to buttons unfastened, with more hip thrust and sway. The blouse finally came off her shoulders, but was torn across the yoke, so that it couldn't be worn. Cyndi orgasmed again.

She was wearing a quarter-cup black bra, which held up her boobs without covering anything important. She pulled and twisted her nipples, making them hard enough to punch holes in sheet steel. The bra finally came off and went where the blouse fell. She orgasmed again, longer-lasting, loud and obscene.

Last, still swaying and hip thrusting, she worked the button on her skirt free and oh, so slowly, pulled down the zipper on her skirt. The material came off in one piece and it was thrown to the pile of clothes on the floor.

My slut was naked, impaled on my straining cock and tied down in 4-point restraint, as she swiveled, thrust, swayed, rose, fell and made other motions that stimulated my cock to the breaking point and beyond. The sound effects were awesome. Her breasts, small as they were and wide spaced, were still bounding all over her torso, nipples protruding in sensual lust. Her eyes were rolled up in her head, showing the whites only.

She was MY slut. Mine alone. Stripping and dancing for me and my cock, inside her. Having one long, loud, flowing wet orgasm for MY pleasure. She continued to kneel on top of me, thighs quivering and shaking in continuous orgasm, while she keened and screamed, "SLUT (thrust) ... SLUT (thrust) ... SLUT (thrust) ... SLUT-SLUT-SLUT-SLUT ... then SLUTSLUTSLUTSLUT ... finally SLUUUUUUUTTTTT.