My Coworkers Found My Onlyfans

Hello, my name is Kate and I am addicted to being blackmailed. I am currently being blackmailed by 5 men in my company with the latest one being the one I'm here to tell you about. I'm not sure what it is, but the thrill of the perceived powerlessness as well as the pure egotistical pleasure of the blackmailer turns me on like nothing else can. It's also just fun pretending like I don't want to do the things they demand me to do, especially the fact that they don't know I go home and masturbate to the memories.

This all started with today's iteration of the oldest profession: OnlyFans. The soul sucking company that I work for has, for the 6th year in a row, successfully met its yearly KPI of crushing my dreams. The monolithic entity that it is, has long since forgotten the base qualities of humanity, preferring to churn out profit over the well-being (and well-paying) of its workers. As such, I did what many women do to make ends meet. Sell their bodies. I've still got a few good years left in me and the idea has always excited me. Pictures of my tits do exist somewhere in the festering swamp that is the Internet, although there are no identifying marks to prove it. And if it was any level of foreshadowing, I had a powerful orgasm reading the comments.

This whole thing started with a slightly too SEO optimized OnlyFans page that is a bit too high up the Google results page when you look up my name. I'm not going to say it here but I have a relatively uncommon last name and anyone hoping to find a public Instagram page with my bikini pics will end up stumbling onto a far greater treasure than they expected (for only $7.99 a month). As a result, the men in my company who do find it tend to be the less than sultry ones.

And that's how it first started. A man I had never met working in a department I'd never heard of pulled me to the side to tell me that unless I sent him some private pictures, he was going to leak it to the company that I was on OnlyFans. Now the company is far too sluggish and decrepit to have any such policy against such a modern concept. I'm not sure the fax machines that HR uses to transmit our policies have ever had the words "only" and "fans" on the same page. Regardless, he believed that the shame of this news getting out would scare me into submission. Little did he know that while he anxiously and hungrily leaned over to whisper this to me, I was getting wet at the idea. I feebly agreed to his terms and sent him (on his second phone lest his wife find out) many-a-nude pics for his self-indulgent pleasure. Quite pathetically, he would thank me for each picture.

The second man who approached me felt a lot more brazen about his leverage. There was no such timidness in his approach, ambushing me in the parking lot in broad daylight. Within the same moment, he had me in the passenger side of his parked car swallowing the length of his member. I still remember the salty taste of a cock that was packaged for a bit too long in a sweltering office with a broken A/C. He came in my mouth, let out an exasperated gasp of pleasure and said that was incredible. I had to resist the urge to plunge my finger into my dripping cunt, for fear of him realizing I was enjoying this just as much as he was. He seemed to so clearly enjoy the fact of my reluctance and I didn't want to take away that pleasure from him (and by proxy me).

I won't go into detail about number 3 or 4 but let's just say I now have a working professional relationship with these 4 men. Rarely does a day go by where I don't get summoned to some forgotten corner of this office to suck, lick, or fuck at least one of these men. Each time, I beg and plead and resist. Making them promise this is the last time before bashfully taking their cocks into my mouth.

But I'm here to tell you about number 5. The latest and definitely the greatest. While the first 4 take pleasure in the moment of control they have over me during the act, number 5 has been tormenting on a whole meta level.

Number 5 works in IT and our relationship started with an email. Dangerously traceable. All the email said was: "I know." I knew exactly what he knew and I excitedly indulged in his intrigue.

"What do you know?" I responded.

"7.99 gave me everything. Even if you deactivate the account, everyone in this company will know." I had no such intentions of deactivation. Why would I disable the greatest source of excitement I've had in years?

"But I'll just use this email as proof of your blackmail. I could have you fired." I countered. I wasn't planning on doing it but I was curious why he would be so sloppy.

"I control these servers. These emails do not functionally exist." Alright, I like this. A man with a plan.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"Meet me in server room 12. 18th floor. 10 minutes."

And so up I went. A floor I'd never been to in a room I'd never thought of. I entered into a chilling atmosphere, rows of servers (at least I assume they were servers) stacked nearly to the low ceiling, blinking lights almost musical in rhythm. I walked around, peering through each row to find the room seemingly completely empty, save for the low humming of the electricity surging through the systems. Once I reached the end of one side of the room I noticed another room nested at the end of it. It had blinds covering the window in the door.

I approached the door and knocked.

"Come in," the voice said from the other side. I walked in.

Inside was a man wearing the same drab "uniform" that every other male in this building wore. Buttoned shirt and a tie with uninspired patterns, paired with khaki pants and a pair of leather shoes. Something you'd get ordering "boring" off Amazon. The man himself was also unassuming. He was clean cut, clean shaven and seemed to be as uninviting as his attire.

"Sit down," he gestured towards a chair. I sat. A good obedient girl. "Take off your top."

"Excuse me?" I feigned shock. It always went this way, it was no surprise. But they liked shocking me.

"I have leverage-"

"I don't give a shit what you have," I cut him off, "I'm not here to be your personal stripper." This may come across quite aggressive but what I learned from man #3 was that breaking my defiance made the submission all the more satisfying.

"Look at this screen," he said, turning a monitor towards me. On it was a spreadsheet with some code looking stuff on the right. The names on the sheet were every coworker I have ever worked with and their managers, all the way up to the CEO. "If I hit this button, my script will send an anonymous email to all your acquaintances with a link to your OnlyFans alongside every image and video you have ever uploaded on there. Your career will be ruined and you will never be able to look these people in the eye ever again."

Well well, a man with a plan indeed. He was pushing the limits of this leverage and it turned me on to know the lengths he would go to gain my submission. Frankly, I wouldn't care if I never saw a single one of these assholes ever again. I'd happily retire to pick strawberries in a field. It would be a nice change of pace. But his subtle look of pride told me this was his final hand and he was proud of his work. I stared at the screen, mocking distress and contemplation. I decided saying anything would risk forcing him to come up with additional arguments that wouldn't be as convincing. He was riding high right now, let's give him a win.

I began unbuttoning my blouse, keeping my eyes on the monitor. From the edge of my view I saw him shift. Was that nervousness? I took my top completely off revealing a red laced bra. Way sexier of an attire for work but man #3 had asked me to wear it for our 4pm appointment. The room was genuinely cold so I gripped my arms, unintentionally pushing my breasts together.

"Take the bra off as well."

I felt my cheeks flush slightly red. Not from embarrassment but from excitement. But from his point of view he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. I quietly unhooked my bra revealing my tits to the biting air. My nipples hardened almost instantly. I covered them with my arms.

"Arms down." Good boy. I dropped my arms and feigned annoyance. "Get on your knees." He commanded.

"Why?" I retorted quickly, a bit of resistance for his pleasure.

"Because you don't have a choice," he replied with an elevated tone.

"Please, just... don't do this." God I was getting wet. He looked almost concerned. But then there was a switch. I don't know how to describe it but he suddenly went from standard office worker to... something else. His face got darker even though the flickering fluorescents in the room stayed the same. And with one smooth motion he suddenly descended upon me, bending down to reach my face with his, hovering inches away. I instinctively turned away which he quickly fixed with a grip on my turned away cheek, turning my face back towards his. I met his eyes with almost genuine fear. Almost.

"As far as you're concerned, you're not Kate from Marketing. You're my play thing until I'm done with you. So take solace in the fact you're free to dissociate and have an out of body experience if you need to. All I need is the body that you so proudly decided to show the Internet. Be quick, efficient and delicious and it'll be over quickly." He let go of my cheek and took a small step back. "Now on your knees."

I took a second to pause. I felt a little shaken by the intensity. I definitely didn't expect it coming from Mr. IT support and it seemed almost sadistic. God I was so wet. It was a good thing I still had my pants on or the illusion of my fear would've been shattered by the soaked leather chair that I was sitting on. I slowly got off the chair and sunk down to my knees.

"Look up at me and stick your tongue out. Just like that one picture on your OnlyFans."

I did as I was told. I felt the cold dry air begin to dry my tongue. I was so vulnerable, my tits and chest pushed outwards by my upturned head, my tongue out in the ultimate act of submission: waiting.

"Now say the caption that you wrote for that photo," he said as he began unbuckling his pants.

"What capshen?" I mumbled with my tongue still sticking out.

"Don't play coy," he bit back as he pulled his cock out. I couldn't really see it since I was told to look up at him but the atmosphere of the room changed as soon as it was out. It always changed. "You know exactly what the caption said."

I did know. I felt my heart speed up at the idea of what I was about to say. Like I said before, there was foreshadowing that I was this type of girl but nobody had ever made me be one before. And I felt the excitement of the idea turn me on more than I had ever been turned on. He approached me, his half erect cock inches from my lips. He waited for me to say it.

"I need your cock to slide across my tongue, master."

And with that, he slid it in.