Blackmailed: Whore for a Day

Finally, Joe said. "You like to talk don't you? I know a remedy that will bring some peace. I remember you being quite an enthusiastic little cocksucker."

With this he turned to look at Melinda and canted his body in the seat appearing to do so in order to speak with her without craning his neck. He took a couple of the strands of her red-blond hair, which was almost a shade of orange, between his fingers and smoothed its natural waves. With his other hand he unzipped his trousers and wrestled the erect shaft out of the fly of his khakis. He then swept Mel's hair over her shoulder and, putting his hand on the back of her neck, pulled her face towards his lap. Her resistance was weak at best. She knew as well as he where this was all going, well, as it turned out, not quite as well as he.

Melinda took Joe's member in her mouth tentatively at first, but then, figuring that she should just get it over with, began to suck with a rhythmic bouncing motion as she used her hand to jack off the base of Joe's tool. There were not miles of it, as his pseudonym suggested, but there were plenty of inches with which Melinda could occupy herself. She was simultaneously angry, sad, and humiliated, but she only knew one way to suck cock and that was with gusto. In the finely engineered German auto with all its road sound reduction technologies, the moist and fleshy slurping and smacking noises filled the space.

"Oh, girl, yeah that's it. That's a good little cocksucker." Joe moaned

The car's soundproofing was not so sophisticated that Melinda couldn't hear a car pull in and park a couple slots down from Joe's BMW. When the door slammed and she heard the rhythmic clack of a pair of men's leather-soled dress shoes getting louder as they approached, she tried to sit up to avoid being caught in the act.

However, Joe's hand kept her head from rising. "You don't want to do that. He's already seen me getting sucked off, but all he's seen of you is an anonymous back of the head. If you sit up he's going to be looking you square in the face. So you might as well just keep at it." Joe said to Melinda.

Then he lowered the window, and spoke to the man outside. "Move it along buddy, if you stay I'm going to have to collect the price of admission."

"You can't do that here." Was the deep-voiced retort, which was followed by the fading clack of leather on concrete as the man retreated.

Joe closed the window and returned his attention to running his fingers through Melinda's hair as she kept bobbing her face on his meaty shaft. Soon he was beginning to tense in his hips and thighs, and he was engaging in sustained low moans. Then, not unexpectedly, he shot a glob of his thick slippery man-goo into the back of Mel's throat. Mel swallowed, and habitually continued to suck even when Joe began to wriggle displaying his discomfort as if she were trying to suck his nuts out through his urethra. Finally, Joe pushed her off as he retracted his hips.

"Oh yeah. You've got skills little slut. It's time to go for a ride. That guy's definitely the type to rat us out. The cops could be here any moment."

With that Joe started the car and tucked is waning unit back into his fly before driving off with tires squealing as he rounded corners of the parking deck switchbacks. Soon they were out on the streets and headed to who knows where.

Joe drove out of downtown through residential areas and into an industrial landscape of warehouses, small-scale manufacturing, and wholesalers. There were also odds and ends like gas stations and a row of strip clubs that weren't allowed to be in areas zoned for retail business. Joe drove into a strip of low-slung red-brick light industrial buildings, and drove around behind one of them parking between the loading dock and a green metal door with no knob, nothing but a deadbolt. As they walked in, it was pitch dark beyond the areas illuminated by the bright sunlight filtering in through the open door. This was remedied when Joe flipped on a light. Melinda looked around. It was a sparse and odd space. The floors were bare dusty concrete, and the wall in front of her was unfinished plywood. It took a second for Melinda to put two and two together, but eventually she realized what the thin mattress on the floor along the forward wall and the three inch diameter holes crudely lined with duct tape were for. They were glory-holes.

"Ready?" Joe asked as he flipped another switch, which seemed to have no noticeable effect.

"Ready for what?" Melinda asked in an unnerved fashion.

"To make me a little money. What else? That little switch is like the doughnut shop's 'Hot Donuts Now' sign except it's a 'Warm&Wet Mouth Now' sign. In a minute the first stiff dick is going to come through one of those holes and it'll be time for you to go to work." Joe explained.

"No. No way. I'll do whatever you want to you, but I'm not going to suck a bunch of random strangers' dicks." Melinda said.

"Well if it's because they are strangers, I can take you out there and introduce you to them, who knows you might find out some are not strangers but rather friends and colleagues, but you don't want to renege at this point. In for a penny, in for a pound." Joe said.

Melinda was crestfallen when a little prick poked through one of the holes and she knew she would have to suck it, and who knew how many other strange dicks. Through a thin mail slot up top, a twenty dollar bill was slipped. Joe took Melinda by the hand lead her over to the hole, snatched the twenty, and put a pressure on Mel's shoulders to guide her down to her knees. Barely four inches of a thin dick poked through the hole. It was probably the smallest dick she had seen attached to a full grown male. She leaned forward and took the rigid little stalk in between her lips. Her head had only bobbed three or four times when the over-excited owner of the diminutive pud gave into the thrill and his little guy puked a thin, vaguely bleachy smelling, dollop of jizm into her mouth. Before the dick withdrew another twenty was shoved through the slot, and Melinda thought this meant the guy wanted another bj. Who knew how long the guy would take on his second time? She began to lean in, when she felt Joe's hand on her shoulder.

"It's a tip. That pin-dick, Eddie, is just very grateful. Be glad you don't know what an ugly son-of-a-bitch he is. I'll tell you what, though. You get to keep that. Is that the first cash you've ever earned for sucking dick? I'm not talking about nice dinners or promotions, but cash money." Joe said handing Melinda the Jackson from out of the mail slot.

When she didn't take it, refusing to let him turn her from a blackmail victim into a common whore, he shoved the bill inside the neckline of her dress into her bra.

The next cock was much bigger. It was probably both slightly longer and a little bit thicker than average and had a substantial upward curve to it - like a banana. It was not porn star big, but it was substantial. After a couple minutes of sucking, it was clear that this guy wasn't going to succumb quickly like Eddie. As she was sucking, Melinda felt the cool air as Joe flipped the hem of her dress up onto her lower back, and proceeded to roughly run a hand down the length of her slit. She wriggled involuntarily.

"Wow, you are slut. I thought for sure your cunt was going to be bone dry and I was going to have to breach you like a rapist." Joe said, taunting Melinda about the fact that somehow she had managed to grow aroused despite the traumas that were befalling her.

Melinda felt betrayed by her own body, but reasoned that it was just a conditioned response. She was in a sexual situation and responded accordingly. Like Pavlov's dog salivating to the sound of a bell. Except that this didn't wring true to her. Neither did the idea that she had gotten aroused as a self-defense maneuver knowing that she would, sooner or later, be, for all intents and purposes, raped. In the end Melinda tried not to think about it, and to ignore Joe's taunts.

As she was sucking off the guy with the curved dick, Joe plowed his cock into Melinda's pussy and began to fuck her intensely. His hips slapped rhythmically on her backside and made it difficult for Melinda to maintain her concentration and her own rhythm in the blowjob she was carrying out. Her shoulders soon ached from resisting the thrust of Joe's enthusiastic member. It was not long before the curve dick retracted, while tossing a $5 bill through the slot. This would also be Melinda's to keep.

Joe, having come once, was nowhere near blowing his load yet. Cock after cock, and a shower of bills - mostly Jacksons but some Lincolns, Hamiltons, and the occasional Washington or two from some cheap ass bastard - came through the wall. Melinda was surprised to find herself insulted by such dismal tips. She would admit that her jaw was aching and beginning to cramp, and it was increasingly difficult to muster the adequate saliva, all of which resulted in her performance progressively going downhill, but... a dollar?... really?.

After fifteen or twenty loads, she began to feel nauseous from her tummy full of ejaculate and resolved to start withdrawing rather than swallowing. It was not always possible, and the premature ejaculators were particularly prone to surprise her with a mouthful of spunk. Some of them clearly had brimming nuts, and produced, literally, a mouthful. More often than not when she succeeded in withdrawing she got a shot of seed in the eye, the cheek, her hair, and, in one case - almost in explicably, right in her ear. As the cum began to coat the shoulders and chest of her dress - either from direct shots or drippage, she was glad that she had newly acquired clothes in the trunk of her car. She couldn't go home in the dress she was wearing. She tried to think about where she could clean up before she got home. Changing attire didn't matter if she had globs of man-goo in her hair.

Joe had taken breaks from fucking Melinda. After his second round without climax, on the third go he breached her backside. While Melinda was not a stranger to anal sex, this made her scream a little. The guy on the other side of the wall was lucky she didn't bite his cock off when the dick entered her butt. She hadn't had anal sex in a couple years, and then it had always been a very gradual process involving lots of lube and usually a finger or toy introduced to warm things up in prelude to taking a cock, a little at a time initially, in her bung. This time involve minimal lube and a very abrupt introduction of the man's tool inside her. Either because of the additional tightness, gradually rising arousal, or a sadistic streak, Joe climaxed relatively rapidly once he was in Melinda's butt. Melinda wondered if it was the latter. That is, did her pain arouse him?

Melinda lost count at about 25 men she had serviced, and there were several still after that. There were huge cocks and tiny ones, but mostly commonly they were give or take 6 or 6-1/2 inches. There were the ramrod straight and those curved in all directions. She sucked circumcised and uncircumcised dicks. There were white ones and black ones, and quite a number of brown ones of ambiguous ethnicity. Mexican? Indian? Thai? American Indian? All of the above? Who knew? Disturbingly, there were clean soap-scented dicks and filthy musky lint-covered ones. Some had tufts of curly pubs that jutted through around the edge of the hole, and some had none. While most of the cum was mildly flavored if at all, occasionally she got a load that made her gag and spit. Some of the men barely put out a drop, and some seemed to yield an impossibly large volume of the white slippery goo.

Finally, the line came to an end. Melinda suspected some of the men came by more than once but there were too many dicks to keep track of individual members. She didn't know if she'd be able to eat anything more substantial than pudding, and there were no steak dinners on the horizon for a day or two, but she'd gotten through it. Melinda was ecstatic when there were no more, though she had no idea what else might be in store for her. As she had been sucking the final cock, Joe had been separating his earnings, which was all in twenties, from Melinda's which ranged from dollar bills to a solitary $50. When she finished and Joe handed her the tip stack, Melinda just starred at it for a moment. Did she take it, and let him make her a whore for a day, or did she let the bastard walk off with almost twice as much cash? She decided to take it. Melinda estimated that it was probably between $300 and $500, but was not willing to count it in front of him as though she really was a common whore. She had no pockets, and had to follow the precedent and split the money between her bra and stockings. How could she show up from a shopping trip with more cash than when she left, Melinda thought? But she realized her husband was not really likely to see how much was in her wallet, and, up to a reasonable amount, was not likely to care.

"Can I get cleaned up somewhere?" Melinda asked as it seemed Joe was satisfied and was about to take her back to her car.

"On your own time." He said.

When they exited the building, Joe got a large beach towel from the trunk. Without offering it to Melinda to clean up, he spread the towel over his passenger seat and head rest so that Melinda wouldn't drip spunk all over his car's interior. Melinda contemplated shaking her head like a big dog to see how much would fly off in droplets to various surfaces of the upscale sedan's interior. However, she decided to hold off, and not push her luck if he was about to take her back to her car. Besides, the yield would likely be minimal as much of the special sauce was by now caked in and solidified.

It was a little earlier than expected, and so Melinda was afraid to ask if they were going back to the library. She didn't want to push her luck or draw attention. However, as they drove along, with Melinda exceedingly self-conscious about her cum-covered appearance being viewed by passing cars and people on the sidewalk, she became increasingly confident that they were going back toward the library.

They were about five blocks from where she had left her car when he pulled over to the curb, "This is your stop." Joe said.

"But my car is blocks away, and I'm all messy." Melinda complained.

"I can chauffer you there, but I'm going to have to stop and pimp you out on the way to pay for my troubles. Is that what you want?" Joe asked.

"Fine." Melinda said, angered at being made to engage in a jizm-soaked walk of shame over four blocks through a downtown neighborhood. She began to wipe herself off on his towel as she got out.

"Hey, don't gunk up my towel or I'll have to claim the rest of my time." Joe said making clear that he was aware he was getting Melinda back earlier than he had "contracted" with her.

"Sorry." Melinda said getting out, almost tragically forgetting the keys she had stowed in his console due to a lack of purse or pockets before snatching them up, and beginning to walk.

She was looking for any place that had a public restroom where she could clean up. Being the weekend, most of the buildings were card-key access only. She walked three blocks passing only two people. However, they both clearly noticed the mess. The second sniffed and wrinkled his nose in disgust. As she got closer to the library, she realized it might be the one place that was open. Then she realized that she would have to walk past it, all the way to her car, to get a change of clothes, a black skirt and cream blouse, and then go back to get cleaned up. This added only one homeless man to the people seeing, and smelling, her. She was not about to get inside her car with the stench of cum on her clothes and in her hair.

Melinda attracted a number of glances when she entered the library lobby from the ten or twelve people who were either at the circulation desk or in the adjacent "reading room", which was really an open space with chairs and study carousels. She walked hurriedly to the little hall off of which were located the restrooms. It occurred to her that the morning's humiliation of having to thumb through a photographic "Kama Sutra" was small potatoes compared to having to enter a public space looking, and smelling, worse than a low-class streetwalker.

Once in the ladies room, she ran the sink and began to vigorously wash her face and hair. How would she explain arriving home with damp hair? She wondered if she shouldn't rent a motel room with towels and maybe a hairdryer with her new cash. She mustn't create a credit card record; she knew that much. She wondered if they would even rent a room without a card, but reasoned someone would with that wad of cash she had. However, because she was early, she still might get home and take a steamy cleansing shower before her husband arrived home. She, therefore, hurried. After she had gotten mostly clean, she knew she wouldn't feel truly clean until she had had a long hot shower, she took the dress off in the handicapped stall, and, looking for tell-tale signs of her illicit activities briefly as she carefully put the money in her wallet and deep in the purse she had brought with her, donned the skirt and blouse - almost forgetting to put on panties in her hurried state. She stuffed the dress into the trash can, and did one more careful look in the mirror, and running her hands around her neck and the back of her head looking for evidence she might not see but feared was present.

Satisfied, she began an interminable trek back to the car and an even dreadfully slower drive back home. Going home she prayed that she would beat her husband home and would have time to put herself in order. Every light seemed to be red, and every imaginable traffic delay seemed to pour forth before her.

Just as she was beginning to relax and have confidence in her story to explain the wet hair, hair-dresser visit, she noticed the black BMW in the cul-de-sac in front of her house. She tried to calm herself. BMW's are a common enough vehicle, particularly in the upper-middle class area in which she lived. If it was him, she'd kill him and bury the corpse before her husband got home. Then she almost spontaneously vomited when she noticed the garage was open and her husband's car was parked in its usual space. Maybe she could still intervene? All hope was lost when she realized Joe's car was empty. In a white-hot rage, she felt like driving right into his precious "beamer" for some manner of revenge, but she held back.

Trying to calm herself, to catch her breath, and to appear normal - though she knew her face had to be flushed and her heart was beating out of her chest - she parked in the garage, nearly knocking her side rearview mirror off in her panicked state. While trying to restrain her gate, to appear normal, she walked far too rapidly into the living room to see Joe sitting across the coffee table from her husband.

"Hey, hon, this is Joe Wright, and he says he knows you and you owe him twenty dollars." Melinda's husband said in a poorly concealed suspicious tone as though trying to discern fact from fiction, and a little uneasy about the stranger's presence on his doorstep.

"Sorry, Mel, I must have counted wrong. I went through it again, and damned if I wasn't missing a twenty. The only thing I can figure is I gave it to you by mistake." Joe said in an apologetic tone.

"Oh, no problem, Joe. Here you go." Melinda said, playing along for dear life. She cautiously dug into her purse, rather than extracting her wallet and risk having the stack of bills fall to the carpet.

She dug out a $20 and handed it to him, unaware of how awkward she looked not stepping too close but rather extending her arm and leaning towards him as if trying to avoid catching an ailment from him.