Blacmailing Tamar

Tamar, my own private slut, was delicious. I loved to eat her, just as I was doing right now, licking in slow, lazy licks up and down her outer lips, then opening her with my tongue to gently paint her inner, sensitive flesh with soft strokes. She wasn't moaning yet, just cooing. Hopeful, aroused little sounds, sounds which said she was desperately hoping I wouldn't stop there. She'd long ago admitted to loving the way I ate her ... Even blackmail had its upside.

I didn't stop there, but descended slightly, licking just inside the entrance to her pussy, licking the dew from her. She still tasted clean, fresh and young. I made a point with my tongue and slid it into her, dragging my tongue against the roof of her pussy as I drew it back out. The taste was overpowering now, and she was producing pussydew faster than I could lick it up. My chin, my cheeks, were slick with her juices.

I let my tongue slide up and out of her, seeking out the sweet button of her clit. I circled it with my tongue, slow lazy sweeping circles which honed in bit by bit. Tamar's legs began shaking and, without thinking, she wrapped them around me, her body begging me to keep going, to push her over the edge. She was groaning properly now, incoherent but utterly sexy.

I continued working on her clit, sucking it gently now, listening to her body as she drew closer and closer to the moment of orgasm. Nearly there. So close. She stiffened momentarily, her whole body poised for orgasm, and I lifted up and away from her, sliding up her quickly, my mouth covering hers to stifle her frustrated whimper. My cock found her open, wet, pussy and slid inside, pumping her hard.

That was all she needed. With a squeal she came hard, the muscles of her pussy constricting around me, milking my cock. She had just started to come down from the peak of her orgasm when mine struck. Holding her firmly and groaning with pleasure, I unloaded cum deep inside her. Spent, I withdrew, enjoying the sight of her young body splayed across my bed, a thin trace of cum oozing from her pussy. Fantastic.

The following morning, I was at home working. I had a conference paper due, and the university had too many distractions. Several times my fingers had itched towards the phone to call Tamar and tell her to get her pretty little ass over here, but I had avoided temptation thus far. I was settled in front of the computer and actually making progress when the doorbell rang.

Puzzled, I went to the door and looked through the spyhole. A beautiful, conservatively but fashionably dressed woman in her early forties stood outside. Shoulder-length blonde hair; fine featured face; a hint of make-up. I'd never seen her before and had no idea who she might be. I opened the door.

"May I help you?"

She didn't smile, but fixed me with a coldly polite stare. "Dr Anderson?"

I nodded and she continued. "My name is Veronica Wilson. I'm Tamar's mother. And I know exactly what you've been doing with my daughter."

Oh, fuck.

My entire career flashed before my eyes. If she really did know, then I was history. And she must know ... else why would she be here? That fucking little bitch Tamar!

After panicking for a split second, I got a hold of myself. Let's get her inside. Find out what she knows, and how, and what she's planning to do about it. Best case scenario she'll just demand that I stay the hell away from her daughter. "Mrs Wilson, perhaps this is a conversation better held in private. Please come in."

She assented grudgingly, looking down her nose at me like I was a worthless piece of shit. She sat on The couch, in the very spot I had often bent her daughter over to fuck her pussy or ass from behind. I used those few moments to think hard. Get her talking, I decided. Think. Find out what she knows.

"Could you tell me what this is all about, Mrs Wilson?"

She sneered imperiously. Even angry, she was beautiful. A cold, angry beauty, very different to that of her daughter. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

I shrugged. "Not until you tell me."

She arched an eyebrow, unamused, and pulled a small book from her bag. Tamar's diary, apparently. She opened it at one of several flagged pages and began reading in a cold, matter-of-fact voice entirely unsuited to the subject matter.

March 26

Back to A's place tonight. It was amazing. He ate me till I screamed then took me twice, the second time in my butt. It's insane. I don't like him at all, I've never consented to a single thing he's done , but I sit around waiting, even hoping for him to call. I've stopped dating guys from college now - a ten minute bang in some fetid dorm room can't compete. I can't work it out one bit.

Tamar's mother stopped reading and I suppressed a grin which threatened to crack my face despite the circumstances. After all, it's not every day an eighteen year old girl writes that you've ruined her for other guys. Mrs Wilson remained silent, apparently waiting for a response.

I took a deep breath and smiled as condescendingly as I dared. I had a plan. "Mrs Wilson, I'm sorry that you've been put through this. This sort of thing happens from time to time. A girl has her favourite actor, he favourite singer, and her favourite lecturer. But only the lecturer is reachable. What you're reading there," I nodded towards the diary, "is a fantasy. She'll be over it by exam time. Meanwhile, I suspect it might be wise to refrain from reading her diary."

My Dad once told me never to underestimate the deviousness of women. He was right.

Tamar's mother struggled to control the anger rising in her. Her face was slightly mottled red and her nostrils flared. She spoke in a low voice. "Yesterday, Dr. Anderson, I followed Tamar when she left for university. She drove here. She got out of her car, dressed like a prostitute, and came up to your apartment. Need I continue?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was thinking fast now, holding off panic. What the hell could I say? A few moment's silence followed, but a sudden flash came to my mind. There was still a way to win. I stood, and dropped the 'polite professor' pose.

"Allright, Veronica. So now you know. And you've raced down here to save the day. Tell me, why do you think your daughter, who writes there that she doesn't even like me, keeps coming here?"

She tried gamely to stand up to me. "I have absolutely no idea. But it must stop. Immediately."

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. You see, Veronica, Tamar keeps coming back here because there are certain ... consequences ... if she does not."

"What do you mean, consequences?"

"Let me show you." Veronica sat primly as I booted up my computer and opened a directory containing some of my many Tamar pics. I asked her over to my desk, and she stood behind me. On the screen, Tamar was smiling at the camera, apparently carefree and happy, dressed in a tight, short black skirt, red satin top, stockings and heels. I flicked through the first few poses quickly, and by the fifth or sixth, Tamar had lost her top and bra. As I continued to advance the pics, she stripped.

Veronica became more and more pale with each passing picture. By the time Tamar displayed a rather large purple dildo and began riding it, her mother was shaking with ... fear? expectation? anger? I shut off the screen.

"Now, Veronica, Tamar wants these pictures kept private. And she knows that, for as long as she continues to be my on-call slut, she is safe."

Veronica hissed. "How ... DARE ... you?"

I laughed. "I dare, Veronica. That's all that matters. And I've kept my end of the bargain until tonight, when you had to butt in."

She was still shaking. "How can we make you go away?"

"You can't, Veronica. This situation will go on for as long as I decide. And the moment I am discovered, the moment my job or security is placed in jeopardy, these pictures - and several hours of videotape - go on the internet and to selected people in this community. So I'll be ruined ... but so will Tamar. And you."

She sank back into the chair, sobbing quietly. Time to raise the stakes. "Until today, Veronica, things were going nicely. But now, Tamar has been stupid enough to keep a diary; you've been intrusive enough to read it; and you have also been stupid enough to come in here making demands. You've brought yourself into this situation. So now, you too have a choice. Either you join your daughter as another of my obedient little tarts, or I ruin your life. What will it be?"

She looked up, teary eyes wide with shock. "You can't possibly be serious!"

I gave her a hard, nasty look. "Very serious, Veronica."

"Can't I just go? I'm unhappy about Tamar ... miserable ... but I don't want to be part of this. Please let me go. Please?"

No chance. My expression didn't alter, and my voice remained soft but determined. "Either you remove your blouse and bra right now, Veronica, or I go over to that computer there and show your daughter to the world. You decide, but do it quickly."

She remained still, looking at me intently, searching for any hint of lenience, any chink in my armour. She found none, even though inside I was quivering with nerves. Slowly, she turned away, crying softly as her fingers found her buttons and undid them one by one. Still facing away, she slid the top off and unclipped her bra.

"Turn around, Veronica."

She turned, arms crossed over her breasts, and found herself staring down the barrel of my camera lens. I snapped a photo before she could react - and react she did, spinning away from me with a yelp.

"Turn back to me, Veronica. Hands by your sides."

Trembling, she slowly turned, took a deep breath, and lowered her hands. I took another photograph then set the camera aside. That was enough evidence for blackmail - time to have some fun. I took a long look at my new slut. Slightly larger, fuller breasts than Tamar's. Veronica's tits were ripe, where Tamar's were pert. Little fat nipples promoted from dark areolas. Not bad at all.

I reached for them, gently sliding my thumbs over the nipples, feeling them harden at my touch. Her breathing deepened, and I suddenly realised the sobbing had subsided. I sat on the couch and drew her to me, standing between my knees. My head craned upwards slightly, and I took her left nipple into my mouth, sucking softly. The deeper breathing continued; the only sign she was enjoying this.

I let her nipple go and asked "How long since hubby played with these, Veronica?"

"None of your damned business"

I chuckled. "I should call and ask him."

She panicked. "Months. It's been months."

Without another word I resumed sucking her nipples, teasing them bad. After a while, I used one free hand to unzip my pants, and slipped them down my legs. My cock was fully erect - I'd been having fun.

"Kneel down, Veronica."

She shook her head. "No way ... I haven't had one of those things in my mouth since high school."

I laughed. She still didn't get it. For a moment I contemplated grabbing her by the ears and fucking her face, just to show her who was in charge. I decided to stick to the plan. I took her by the shoulders and, with a gentle downward pressure, forced her to her knees. Veronica eyed my cock, just inches from her face, with distaste, maybe even disgust.

"Use your hands to press your breasts together, Veronica."

She was puzzled but she complied, her full breasts forming a channel custom-designed for my cock. I leaned her towards me and slid my shaft between her tits, pre-cum lubricating them quickly. This was hot. Veronica seemed shocked, and, looking down, came face to face with the flared tip of my cock. Realising where my cum would go when I blew, she looked vaguely sick. I didn't care.

I began pumping her tits with more vigour now. I had the angle and rhythm right. My hands were on the slut's shoulders, guiding her into position, holding her in place, emphasising that she was being forced, used, taken. My cock felt fantastic between her globes, the soft curves of her body giving just the right stimulation. Her sick humiliation, and the sheer fact that I was also fucking her daughter, added spice.

I began moaning softly, my breath getting ragged. It was harder and harder to maintain my rhythm. Felt so good. Faster. Soft moans getting more intense as the feeling of orgasm rose in my cock ... close ... close ... now!

As my cock emerged and reached the highest point of its thrust I came, spurting cum up onto her chin and neck. I kept thrusting, cumming on her chest, and between her tits where my cock rubbed it in. Veronica recoiled slightly and I heard the word "gross" but she was sensible enough not to let her tits go.

Spent, I pulled away, and looked with satisfaction at the picture before me. This prim and proper bitch, who had turned up here with every intention of breaking my balls, instead found herself kneeling on my floor and covered in cum. I grabbed my camera and took another photo, then allowed Veronica to stand.

She cleaned herself up with a tissue, shot me a look of absolute venom, dressed and left. We both knew she'd be back soon.