Author's Notes: As is usual to state on Literotica, everyone involved in sexual situations in this story is over the age of 18, with the family's two sons (The only characters where this might be questioned.) being 23 and 22, respectively.
For the past few years, I've been quite interested in the topic of female-perpetrated sexual assault (Not that I endorse it or anything, but it's an interesting topic to read about since most people think it never happens.), and after recently reading a study which not only found similar rates of both male and female-perpetrated sexual assault, but also found that women were more likely to force oral sex than men, well, as someone who is quite turned on by blowjobs and female domination, my mind immediately went into overdrive at the finding.
This story contains scenes of reluctant/non-consensual sex done under the threat of blackmail. It doesn't contain any scenes of incest, but the people being forced into sex with their blackmailer are members of a family. If you don't like stories like this, you've been warned, if you like it, hopefully this story won't disappoint you.
Please, don't forget to comment, rate and if you like it, favorite the story. Constructive critique and feedback is always welcomed.
***
For the past few years, Brandon Francis' marriage with his wife, Juanita, was quite strained.
Superficially, everything was alright. Both of them had good jobs, with him being the owner of two mid-sized companies, dealing with pharmaceuticals and insurance respectively, and her being a senior journalist at one of the state's biggest newspapers. This, of course, brought them a beautiful house and life-long financial stability, which helped them create a perfect environment for their two sons, both of whom were students at one of the most elite colleges in the state, where they were among the most promising students.
But, alas, the perfect covering did nothing except hiding the rotten inside.
Although their sex life wasn't exactly nonexistent, it was far from what it used to be. Once, they used to have their little private orgy every night where they made love to each other in every position they knew, but now, all they did was pretty much just him humping her for a few minutes once a week while she quietly moaned a little, out of habit and to make him feel good about himself, then they both went to sleep.
That was also the only remotely romantic experience they shared for years now. They barely spoke to each other now, and when they did, it usually ended quickly and with one of them screaming.
It wasn't much of a surprise to him when he found someone else to sleep with. It, likewise, wasn't much of a surprise to her when she noticed the signs that he was cheating on her, though she couldn't be sure.
It still pissed her off though, and he knew it.
Given all of this, when she texted him earlier today to come to an isolated house, owned by a friend of hers and almost an hour's worth of driving away from the city, to "Discuss our life together.", he wasn't sure what to think.
No matter how bad their relationship had become, neither of them wanted a separation and they both knew it. He had a feeling that the conversation she wanted to have with him there could end up helping them.
But on the other hand, he was, naturally, apprehensive about meeting his wife, with whom he had an increasingly strained relationship and who he was cheating on, in an isolated location he had never visited before.
Couldn't she tell him whatever she wanted to tell him in their own home, or somewhere in the city? Why a place like that? It was hard not to think it was a trap.
And when he came here and walked in to meet his furious wife accompanied by a younger woman he had never seen before, who it was made very clear to him was a private detective hired by his wife to investigate him for the last few months, he realized his suspicions were correct.
A lot of shouting, cursing, and accusing quickly followed, various insults neither will ever be able to take back were carelessly yelled.
As vile as this confrontation was, however, neither of them could imagine ending their relationship, and they both knew the other felt the same way.
Now, both of them knew this confrontation was reaching its crescendo.
However, as the detective knew, it was going to go much more different than they imagined.
"Well?!" he heard his wife ask him angrily, no, scream it at him really, while holding a photo of him in the bed naked with one of his female coworkers in front of his face.
"Well?" the detective, who handed his wife the photo a few moments before, repeated.
"Well, what?!" he defended himself angrily "So that's one photo of me with a girl I slept with maybe once, who knows when. Is that the best you have at me? Is this all that we are here for? This bullshit?!" he continued.
"You know damn well it's not just this photo, you cheating fucking bastard!" his wife angrily retorted.
"Your wife is correct, Mr. Francis, and you know. It isn't just this photo, in the course of my investigation of you, I've managed to collect almost a hundred various documents documenting your activities, including over a dozen photos, hotel receipts, restaurant bills, et cetera. You name it, I have it," the detective said with smug confidence in her voice "Just admit it, Mr. Francis, you aren't getting out of this. You are simply a cheating, unfaithful asshole."
"Why don't you shut up?! Who the hell even gave you the right to follow me around, you freak!" he replied.
"She's not gonna shut up,
you
need to shut up. You have nothing to say, there's absolutely nothing you can say to get out of this," his wife replied.
The detective snickered.
"There's no need for you to protect me, Mrs. Francis," she said "Whatever your husband wishes to tell me, let him do so. At least I'll know what to expect when I'll meet him at the trial."
Both of them looked at her with mystified looks on their faces.
"What trial?" the wife said with a light laugher "I don't want to divorce him. I'm afraid you misunderstood what I wanted when I hired you. I just want to punish this pervert, and for him to know what a pervert he is and why I'm punishing him."
"And I, Mrs. Francis, am afraid you misunderstood what I wanted when you hired me and that you now misunderstand what I am referring to," the detective replied "I am not referring to a divorce trial between you and your husband. I am referring to a trial where your husband, you, and maybe even your kids will face charges of embezzlement, corruption, insider trading, fraud and all the other white-collar crimes your family is guilty of unless you people do
exactly
what I want."
They both stared at her in shock.
"What?!!" he screamed.
"What?!" she repeated.
"What indeed," she smugly replied with a laugh "Did you think I was just looking at which restaurants your husband was eating at and where, and with whom, he was sleeping? Remember when you let me have his phone?" she said as she started undoing her black business suit.
"You what! When?" he asked his wife, who was too stunned to answer.
"Soon after I started watching you," the detective replied, "Told her that I needed to see all of your messages and contacts to know who to watch and that I may even get there a device to watch you like this was some James Bond knockoff B-movie from the nineties." She said as she undid the suit, carefully folded it, and put it inside her a rather large handbag.
Now just in a white T-shirt and dark jeans, he couldn't help noticing her body. She was quite attractive, with very large breasts perfectly visible as they lifted the white T-shirt, almost ripping through it. If she just had a shirt, he had no doubt the buttons would already be flying.
He liked what he saw.
His wife less so.
"Why did you," she said, not liking the sight, and implications, of their unexpected blackmailer taking off her clothes.
"Please, hush, will you? We'll get to that soon." the detective replied "Well, I did put something inside of your phone. Except it wasn't any physical device, but quite nifty spyware that allowed me to watch everything you were doing on your phone." She said as his face quickly turned white with horror.
His wife just helplessly looked at him. "Is that wrong that she did that? Why is she talking about crimes, just what the hell were you doing?" she asked her husband, starting to panic.
Before he could tell her something, the detective continued.
"Everyone you phoned and what you talked about, everything you texted and to whom, even every website you visited, along with all the nicknames and passwords. Gaming sites, erotic sites, banking sites..." she said as she pulled her T-shirt off of her. Now, she stood before them with just a sports bra covering her huge assets, a task which it was, quite obviously, straining to do.
"Just that would have been enough to get you to jail. But after you used it to access your e-mail account, hoo boy," she said, laughing "I got there and used it to infect your personal notebook, as well as the personal computers of quite a lot of your friends. And the things I found there..." she said.
"What," he said, trying to look tough.
"It honestly seemed like you were in some competition for who can commit the most white-collar crimes. You screwed over everyone from your customers to your partners and investors, even the crooked politicians and civil servants you paid off," she said as she undid her bra. "You should probably strip as well. Trust me, you really will be better off if you now do everything I tell you," she told them.
After she put the bra into her handbag, her victims were treated to a majestic sight. One of the biggest pair of breasts either of them had ever seen, hanging freely in the chill air of the isolated house. Large, firm, juicy and full, they were a work of art.
