This is part 2 of this story. You should read Part 1 to understand the events here. This story contains voyeurism, non-con and blackmail. If you don't care for those things, please continue your search for a more desirable tale. Constructive comments are always welcome.
Marcie's story.
I couldn't believe what I had seen. My fucking neighbor Brad had intruded into my most personal life and filmed me having sex in my bedroom. I guess that is what rape feels like emotionally. Totally violated. Totally helpless. Totally angry.
It only took a moment after seeing the awful scenes of my sexual romps with Rob to realize what would happen. There was no excuse, no alibi and no denial. I was guilty of cheating on my husband, regardless of his frigidity. It would destroy my marriage. It would have me thrown out of the church. It would alienate all of my lifelong friends. It would stoke hours of giddy laughter as the women I had taught about trust saw me for the hypocrite I was. It would destroy my entire life.
I sobbed on the couch for quite a while. Each time the sobs slowed, I thought of a new possible shame and started again. At some point I realized that SOB Brad was still sitting on my couch. I sat up, screamed at him and tried to hit him with my fists. My anger had no bounds. He easily deflected my blows and tried to tell me to calm down. "It doesn't have to be so bad." He shouted over my cries. Sure, the greatest shame and embarrassment of my life wouldn't be so bad. Fucker!
"Nobody has to know" he shouted. I stopped moving and screaming - and breathing. "This doesn't have to go public. You can keep your secret lover and your reputation. We can make a deal."
My spiraling slide into a whirlpool of despair suddenly stopped. I was still very deep, but there was a light up above. It took a moment to process what his words meant. Was there hope? Is my life not over? My anger at him quickly switched to hope. He was now the potential savior who could deliver me from the valley of death. The speed of the change in my emotions was staggering. Infinite hatred one second, infinite hope the next. I just sat there in shock and waited for his explanation.
He took a deep breath and started his prepared speech. "I created this video with several goals in mind. I had seen your ongoing affair with Rob, but figured it wasn't my responsibility to blow the whistle. But if I did, I would need absolute proof of your transgressions since everyone in this town would believe your denial and I would be driven out of town on a rail. But then I saw and heard Alex's sermons and your classes on trust and was angered by your hypocrisy. Your bragging about the quality of trust between you and your husband was horrible. And when Rob's wife asked you in class about her husband's late night walks, you blew her off. That's when I decided to do this." He paused to let all of that sink in.
His accusations pierced deep into my heart. I knew he was right. I tried to think of a defense for my actions - but couldn't find any. I was an adulterer. I was a liar. I was a hypocrite. I was a sinner many times over. My despair from facing that reality about myself was almost as painful as the fear of the video going public. I started to cry again. The river supplying my tears seemed limitless.
I've read stories about how soldiers can be horribly tortured for months and have their spirit broken. I had received all of my torture in less than an hour, but I was completely broken. It was like my life had ended and I was lost in a void, unable to think. I needed support, so I leaned forward and hugged Brad. He was completely surprised, but gently put his arms around me and held me. I guess the Stockholm Syndrome is real. I can never explain my emotions that afternoon.
I slowly pulled myself together, went to the bathroom to relieve myself and clean up my face. Brad was waiting patiently on the couch. He seemed to be uncertain of himself. He gave a weak smile as I returned to the couch.
"Please Brad, tell me how I can get out of this situation. I am truly sorry for my actions. You were right about all of them. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. But your video would destroy my life if it went public. Please tell me you haven't sent it anywhere yet."
He seemed to gather his strength and steel himself to perform an unpleasant task. "Marcie, the video has gone nowhere else, although I have backup copies of it. And I can keep it that way, and eventually destroy all copies, if you will do what I ask." He paused as if he was uncertain to continue. I couldn't imagine what this non-descript neighbor could want from me. Mow his lawn for him?
"Marcie, I have been single for many years. I haven't dated much since I still carry some baggage from my horrible marriage. That means that I haven't had sex with a woman in a very long time ..."
No! It couldn't be! After criticizing me for cheating, he was going to ask me to cheat some more - with him!
He took a deep breath, looked like he was in pain, and continued: "You are a very attractive woman and I want to have sex with you regularly for a while."
There it was. In the open. He wants to fuck me. And he wants to do it more than once. I was angry and insulted, but stifled any visible reaction. That was the deal he offered. I could fuck him a few times and be free, or have my entire life destroyed. He knew I would have no real choice. That's why he made that video. To bargain for sex. I was insulted, but also flattered that he had done all of this because he wanted to fuck me.
I struggled to speak. "You mean you are blackmailing me to get sex? What kind of man are you?"
He grimaced as he contemplated his reply. "A lonely, horny man I'm afraid. I've always fantasized about having a submissive sex partner to pleasure me any way I wanted. But, I've never had the means to do it and a way to rationalize it that I now have with you."
He stopped and inhaled a large breath, preparing himself to be cold and cruel. "You have no choice but to please me. And I can overcome any guilt I may feel toward you since you have done worse things. This won't continue forever, but for the next year I expect you to have sex with me at least twice a week."
"A year!" I screamed. "You expect me to willingly let you fuck me every week for a year? You're out of your mind."
I struggled to comprehend the situation. He was making a totally ridiculous demand for my body. A demand I could not even imagine satisfying for him. To be his sex slave would destroy any last bits of my self-respect. My pride absolutely refused to even consider it. Except ...
I returned to my earlier contemplation of the destruction of my life, my marriage, my social status, and that same self-respect if he released that damn video to the world. The images of me straddling Rob and pushing my ass into the air so he could fuck me were just too awful to consider. That video must be destroyed completely, no matter what it took. No matter what. I would have to agree to his outrageous demand.
I just hung my head and tried to think of my next step. If I had to accept his demand how could I minimize the pain for me? How would it work anyway? His place or mine? How to hide it from my husband? What would I tell Rob? What would sex with Brad be like? It probably couldn't be any worse than Alex or Rob. Alex has no passion and Rob has too much, coming in minutes when I wanted hours.
I decided to try bargaining. "I hate this Brad, but I can't have that video go public. But twice a week for a year is way too much. I can't handle that. How about once a week for 6 months?"
Brad gave a very quick little smile and said, "No, I need you... I need more sex than that. I will accept once a week for a year, but not less than that." He sat up straight, crossed his arms across his chest and declared: "It will take me just a matter of minutes to email that video to everyone on the neighborhood listserv, and the board of the church. I won't negotiate any more. Do you accept?"
Check and mate. "I accept" I whispered, and then tried to internally accept my new position as sex slave to my neighbor. My internal resistance was strong, but had to be overcome. My guts were churning. I started to feel nauseous and ran to the bathroom to vomit out my pride and positive self-concept. I hated myself and I hated Brad.