Tributes Ch 02

Tributes 2

... continues from part 1. A couple find themselves being blackmailed into posting erotic photos by an anonymous friend or acquaintance.

We were really taken aback. This wasn't at all what we had planned. We racked our brains trying to imagine who it was amongst our social group who had recognized us. We looked at the photos to see what in them they had seen that had given us away. On both counts we came up with very little.

Carmel had some moles that I hadn't photo-shopped. I hadn't felt the need. Was it the mole on her neck, just above her shoulder that had given us away? Surely it would be a very close friend, an intimate friend, who would remember that. One of her past boyfriends? There were a few. And there was a corner of the floor rug that could be seen in one of the photos. It was a photo I had taken from above, with a wide-angle lens, of her tied-up and spread-eagled on the bed. To the right was a bright aqua triangle, the corner of the rug on our bedroom floor. It was a distinctive color, but none of her old boyfriends had been in our bedroom, as far as I knew, though she was still friends with a couple of them, who had visited.

On the plus side, the person who found it was looking at porn. How is someone who looks at porn better than someone who is in that porn? How are they any less blackmailable. The problem was that, because we didn't know who it was, we had no chips with which to bargain. None at all.

Or was it a hacker? I used reasonable internet security. I ran my virus and intrusion checker and came up with nothing.

We decided to ignore it, but that didn't work out because that night we got another email.

Do you really want the embarrassment? - He wrote -- we assumed it was a he, followed by a list of email addresses, including our parents, our bosses and our close friends. The close friends we could probably deal with, but the parents and bosses? Where had they gotten this list? It must be a hack. On the other hand, someone we knew well would probably have those same addresses. Maybe. At a stretch. Was it really someone we knew, or not? Was it someone pretending to know us?

I like seeing you tied up, Carmel, he said. Do some more of that, and then Chris can cum on the back of your knees. Post them online tonight.

It was mid-afternoon.

"I don't think we have a choice," said Carmel. "Let's play along and buy ourselves some time. It can't get any worse!"

She was right. What more could happen? Another photo or two would make no difference while we came up with a better plan.

Carmel was surprisingly enthusiastic. She was quickly stripped down to her undies in the soft light that came through the white curtains. I looked at her standing in front of me. Her eyes were dark, like her hair, and her lips full. She had dark, full eyebrows. She was a Southern European Siren; tall and with beautiful, long legs.

She was quite slender with lovely small breasts hidden behind a cream, lacey bra. Her dark nipples were like bullets and clearly pushing against the fabric. I looked down her tight torso to her matching panties which were camel-toed into her cunt, accentuating the rounded wonder of her dark-haired mons. I knew those cunt lips to be the color of dark wine hiding the luscious pink of her vagina. The sight of her standing like that gave me an immediate hard-on. I wanted nothing more than to ejaculate all over her.

"Tie me," she said. "Finger me, then cum on me. I'm a slut. I will do anything to make you cum."

She didn't need to do much, and I didn't need much urging. I soon had her spread-eagled again, face-down. I put a pillow under her hips to make her cunt more accessible. Her labia parted slightly. She was already wet and glistening.

The camera was still on its tripod from our previous session. I used the macro lens to take photos that showed every detail of every glistening hair between her legs, every pore of the skin of her inner thighs, of her cunt. I looked around the room for something to fuck her with. An object. But there was nothing and we didn't have any sex toys. I had a thought, and went into the kitchen to retrieve our rolling pin. It was a French tapered rolling pin made of oak, painted with a glossy, clear resin. I had often imagined fucking her with it.

She turned her head as I came back into the room.

"Oh yes," she said. "Fuck me! Fuck me with anything you can find. Use me. Use my cunt."

I used some lube, though I probably didn't need to, and took photos as I first teased her with it, and then slid it in, little by little, a bit in and a bit out, her lips pulling at it as it was withdrawn glistening, and then resisting a little as I slid it back in, until all resistance was gone and it slid in and out, and in and out, and her hips were bucking and she orgasmed, grunting into the bedsheets. All the while I was talking fantasy talk to her.

"This is just getting you ready," I said. "After this there are the cocks. The real cocks. How many cocks?... I said, how many cocks?"

"Lots. Lots of cocks!"

"All those cocks that sent tributes?" I asked.

"Yes, whoever wants to fuck me. Whoever wants to empty their cock into me. I want to be filled with cum."

We had quite forgotten that we were doing this to the order of someone who knew us. We were caught up in the moment. Or maybe we hadn't. Maybe there was an extra thrill in knowing that we were doing this for someone else -- someone we knew, but didn't know.

My cock was aching. I knelt over her. The sight of her beautiful, olive-skinned back, the bumps of her spinal cord, her raven hair like a halo around her head, the curve from her ribs into her stomach and then the outwards flare of her hips. I slid down her legs and knelt between them. I wanted to cum on her cunt where the rolling pin, now forgotten, was still inside her, rising and falling with her gasps of pleasure, but I remembered that I was doing this to order and was to cum on the back of her knees. In a moment I was ejaculating. It erupted right along her thigh, some of it hitting her cunt, but I made sure that the final spurts, less explosive, pooled in the concave at the back of her knee.

I caught my breath and took the camera off its tripod, making sure there were lots of shots of the cum on her body, especially her thighs and knees. My cock was hard again. The sight of her cunt, the rolling pin still embedded between her luscious lips just made me want to lick her again. I slowly withdrew the rolling pin. which was shining and juicy. There were splashes of my cum on her buttocks. I couldn't help but lick them and then I put my face to her cunt, burying it between her lips. She came again. My nose and mouth nestled in her cunt, the bridge of my nose against her anus, my cheeks smashed against her cheeks, fucking her with my whole face, covered in cunt juice and semen.

When her orgasm had subsided, I moved back up the bed and jerked off again, this time I came over her face, which she turned towards me, her mouth open. There wasn't much cum this time, but there was enough that some went in her mouth and her cheeks were smeared as she lay there, her mouth open, her beautiful eyes smiling at mine.

When we had cleaned up we put the photos on the computer and chose the ones to post. This time we were very careful to blur out anything that might give us away. I even removed all of her moles.

We were in bed later that night, after having counted the tributes and imagining Carmel tied down to receive them live, and wondering what the response would be.

We still hadn't come up with a plan when his email arrived.

Nice¸ he said. The rolling pin is an inspired touch. Tomorrow we might take it up a notch. Since I know who you are, you can send me photos directly to this address without the faces blurred, as well as the ones to the website. Standby. PS Let me know how many tributes you get.

End part 2