Blackmailing Tamar Ch. 05

Tamar mewled and grunted as she pushed her hot little ass back at me, impaling her sweet young pussy harder and harder onto my cock with each thrust. All she wore was a few ruined scraps of lace which had recently been her panties, and her "doggystyle" high heels, which we knew from past experience would elevate her pussy to the perfect height for rear entry. I had begun this fuck my way, grabbing the little slut by her ponytail and forcing her down over the couch ... but it had pretty quickly become obvious that Tamar wanted to be used as much as I wanted to use her. Now, all I had to do was stand firm, and let her fuck herself hard with my cock.

By now, while Tamar was still my fuckslave – make no mistake about that! – she had abandoned any pretense of reluctance. Whereas I had once punished her by forcing her to suck my cock and drink my cum, I now punished her by threatening not to let her visit for a week. She was no longer the college princess ... she was truly a whore for me.

I watched her young body moving back and forth, plunging back onto my cock, relishing the tight-yet-slick grasp of her pussy. This was the fucking life. But I could make it better – I was still in charge. I raised my right hand and waited until I caught the rhythm of Tamar's ass. At the right moment ... SLAP! I brought my hand down onto her, hard, leaving a pale handprint which quickly reddened and left a trace of broken capillaries. Tamar bruised easily, and healed quickly. The perfect combination. At the first slap she shot forward, squealing, one hand instinctively reaching back to protect herself.

"Did anyone say to stop fucking, whore?"

She bit her lip and began sliding on my cock again, more tentatively than before, waiting with each stroke for another hard slap. I let her go for a dozen or so strokes before obliging, harder than before, on the other cheek ... SLAP! Another squeal, followed this time by a sob. She wasn't terribly good with pain, and this was enough to get her crying. Beautiful.

The tears were too nice to waste, so I pulled Tamar back by the hips until she was kneeling on the ground, still facing the couch. I sat down before her, my cock rising up towards her pouting lips as her tongue darted out to intercept a salty tear which had made its way down her cheek. I guided her head to the tip of my cock and she opened her mouth, taking me slowly inside. If there's anything sexier than the sight of a girl crying softly as she sucks your cock, I don't know what it is. She sank her head down over my cock with a little more enthusiasm now, so I grabbed her by the ears and forced her onto my cock deep, holding her in place while she gagged. This felt fantastic, and produced more tears, which traced over her face and onto my cock. So hot.

I was soon ready to cum, and both of us knew it. Tamar increased the intensity of her sucking, trying to pull me over the edge. I grinned at her enthusiasm. "Want cum, Tamar? Want to drink my cum, you fucking little slut?" Without missing a beat, she changed the pitch of her moans to communicate begging, desire, need. I drew a sharp breath as my orgasm struck, and moaned as my hips thrust forward and my cock exploded into her mouth. Her throat worked, swallowing my cum without losing a drop, until I relaxed back, enjoying the post-orgasm rush. Tamar, well-trained by now, disengaged from my cock and began cleaning it with small kisses and licks. Her job done, she rested her face on my thigh and smiled up at me as I caressed her hair. What a perfect slut.

Once she had left to begin her day at college, I picked up my phone. I vaguely recalled it having gone off at some point while Tamar was doing precisely the same thing – going off! – on my cock. I flipped it open and grinned wickedly at the text message on the screen:

"I know you're using Tamar now, you fucking asshole. If you hurt her you'll be fucking sorry."

Veronica hadn't signed off. She hadn't needed to.

I laughed as my fingers began working over the keypad in response. I sent two messages, the first to Veronica:

"We'll see who is going to be fucking sorry, Veronica. Be here at 10AM tomorrow. But only if you really want to come, of your own accord."

The last bit was necessary because I knew she was still trying to trap me into a position where she could extricate herself and her daughter from my clutches. There was no chance, and she probably knew it, but she kept trying anyway. The second message was to Tamar:

"That was hot, you filthy little slut. I want some more, and I know you do too. 11AM tomorrow. Just to be kinky, I want you to "borrow" your Mom's sexiest panties."

I snapped the phone closed, feeling and no doubt looking like the self-satisfied, smug little bastard I am.

The next morning, just before ten, I strained to hear the sound of Veronica's car door closing down at street level. She would be on time – she always was nowadays. The first time she'd been late I had cum on her face and forced her to smear it all over, then wait for it to dry. She hadn't enjoyed it one little bit, and soon after recognized the value of punctuality. I heard the bang of a car door, and a minute or so later heard the clack of high heels outside my apartment door.

She hesitated for a full thirty seconds before knocking. This was one aspect of Veronica which I loved. She was so torn. She truly hated me, and truly hated being my fucktoy, yet at a physical level I was meeting sexual needs which she previously hadn't even realized she had. She wanted to run away, yet she wanted to come in and be fucked hard. Neither pure enthusiasm nor pure hatred would have been nearly as interesting.

I opened the door and looked her up and down. Veronica still looked a treat. The makeup was heavier now than when I'd first seen her. Her skirt was a whole lot shorter, and the light low-cut blouse made it fairly obvious she didn't have a bra on. She looked, in short, like a middle aged slut. Again, she hated dressing this way ... but once I'd made my requirements clear, it turned out that she was exceptionally good at picking outfits which made her look completely fuckable. A hint of floral scent wafted in with her. "Come in, Veronica. You look fantastic."

"Fuck you, Anderson."

I laughed. "Yep, that's kind of the idea. Since we're not going to be nice to one another, whore, I want you kneeling in the middle of my living room, hands on your head. Lose the skirt, undo all but the bottom button of your blouse, and pull your tits out."

Veronica blushed in fury and anger, pushing past me into the living room. She turned away from me and dropped her skirt, folding it neatly over a nearby chair. Once she was kneeling, she unbuttoned the blouse nearly all the way and drew back the fabric, exposing those hot ripe breasts. I walked over to her, looming over to her, and bent to cup her breasts, tweaking then pinching her nipples. She whimpered angrily, but her nipples stiffened beautifully. She held her eyes closed, no doubt wishing herself away.

I removed my shirt and pants, but left my boxers on, and returned to my slut. Leaning down, I placed my phone on the carpet in front of her and flipped it open. "Now, slut, somebody sent me a nasty message yesterday. Read it."

Gritting her teeth, Veronica opened her eyes and read. "I can't wait. You haven't fucked my ass in a week though. Why, are you chicken?"

I laughed evilly. "Oh, sorry Veronica. That one was from Tamar. Yours is the next one. But fucking her ass for her sounds like a good idea, don't you think?" She ignored me as I advanced the messages. "Here we are."

She looked furiously at me and read. "I know you're using Tamar now, you fucking asshole. If you hurt her you'll be fucking sorry." She looked up defiantly. "You fucking will be, too, Anderson."

The defiance was fun, but it was time to pull this little whore into line. To this point I had not used her anally – I'd been concentrating on forced oral and humiliation – but something special was needed to change her attitude. I ignored her comment and wandered into the bedroom, returning a few moments later with a short, thin, latex butt plug which flared out just enough to be retained securely. I held it in one hand, rubbing lube over it with the other. "Enough of your nonsense, Veronica. I've put up with your tantrums because they were amusing, but it's time you remembered that you are no more than a filthy little slut whore, blackmailed into fucking the man who is also riding your precious little girl. You are nothing more than fuckmeat, Veronica, and I have the wherewithal to ruin your little family any time I want. Instead, you're going to beg me to slide this plug into your ass."

Her eyes widened. "I can't. I can't take that. Please ... please?"

Needless to say, mercy wasn't high on my list of priorities just then. I placed a hand in the small of Veronica's back and pushed her forwards until she was on all fours, her head on the carpet. "Now, Veronica, reach back and pull those asscheeks wide apart." She paused, her whole body quivering. Slowly her hands came back and pulled her cheeks apart, revealing her cute little asshole. "Beg, Veronica. Beg me to plug you."

"Please don't. Come on. Let me suck your cock. You can cum on my face. I know you love that. Please just don't do this."

I laughed. "I can cum on your face anyway, bitch. But since you don't want the plug, maybe I should just shove my cock in your ass? I haven't lubed it, of course, but if that's what you want?"

The change in her attitude was dramatic. "No! Please? I'll take the plug. Please, Anderson."

"Well, slut, that's not really begging, is it?"

"Please fuck my ass with the plug, Anderson. Please ... sir?"

It was the first time she'd ever called me that on her own. Perfect. I touched the plug to her asshole and watched her flinch away. Slowly, surely, I pressed it forward. Her breath caught momentarily as the plug pressured her ass, then slid through. She groaned louder, though, when the ridge of the plug forced her ass to flare wide. I held it there, maximizing her discomfort for a few seconds, before pressing it home. Her muscles closed around the ridge, holding it tight, and I rocked back to admire my handiwork. It was a hot picture, so I snapped a couple of photos – one can never have too much blackmail material.

"Stand up, slut."

She stood up gingerly, trying to get used to the unusual feel of the plug in her ass, feeling the muscles work to try unsuccessfully to expel the invading object. I undid the last button of her blouse and tossed it aside, leaving her naked but for a pair of slutty high heels. Time to reveal the plan for the morning. "Now, Veronica, you seem to have a fascination with what Tamar and I do when we're alone, don't you?"

She didn't answer. The defiance was gone from her face, and her hips kept working slightly in response to the plug. Eventually, softly, she said "I want to protect her."

I laughed. "Well, slut, so far you're doing a fantastic job, aren't you?" She blushed as a momentary resurgence of anger flooded through her. "Well, Veronica, today's your lucky day. Not only are you going to find out what I do to your daughter, you're going to watch."

Veronica looked puzzled, but she let herself be guided from the living room into my bedroom, and over to my closet. The closet was one of those old-fashioned ones with row upon row of angled horizontal slats. It looked awful, like some sort of 70s throwback, but it was perfect for my purpose. I opened it up, and realization struck for Veronica. The clothes were gone, and a series of ropes had already been fastened to strategic points in the cupboard's interior. "No!" she protested. "No fucking way!!"

Enough was enough. I shoved the worthless bitch into the cupboard. "You don't have a fucking choice here, Veronica. Do you really want to test my resolve? Well?" She did not answer, but passively resisted as I grabbed her wrists and tied them together, behind her back. Next, two ropes secured her elbows, pulling them apart and rendering her arms immobile. At this point the fight went out of Veronica. Her fingers reached futilely for the ropes and, finding nothing, she realized she was beaten. There was no resistance as I secured a rope around her waist, then one to each knee and one to each ankle. It was a great position – she wasn't in any particular discomfort (she'd be stiff and sore when she emerged, but no more than that) but she couldn't move a muscle.

We weren't done, though. I produced two nipple clamps and waved them before her face. She paled. "No. Come on. You don't need to use those."

I gave her a stern look. "Did you really think you would get away with the attitude you've been displaying, Veronica? Think yourself lucky I don't just pierce them. That would be hard to explain to hubby, don't you think?" I fixed each clamp to her nipples, enjoying her moans of pain, watching how little she could move in response. It was exquisite. One more touch. I took out a ball gag. She'd never seen one before, and looked on in incomprehension until I gripped her jaws and commended her to open. The ball went in before she realized what was going on, and I fixed the straps on her head.

She couldn't move, she couldn't talk, she had a plug in her ass and clamps on her nipples. And she was about to watch me fuck her daughter. I turned on some music as I left the room, just enough to cover any incidental sounds. She was in for a show, that was for sure.

It took another ten minutes for Tamar to arrive. I had to resist the temptation to keep going back into the bedroom to check on Veronica, but I wanted her to feel abandoned and irrelevant. Because, of course, she was. Eventually, her daughter knocked on the door and I opened it. Fuck, Tamar looked like a tramp. She had on a skirt so short it was barely there, and a spaghetti strap satin top which I swear only just covered her nipples. Her long blonde hair was teased out, and her makeup screamed "stripper". She had gone to a lot of trouble, and I liked what I saw. Coming in the door, she wrapped her arms around me and I indulged her in a long, deep kiss before breaking away and commanding her to the bedroom. "Stand in the middle of the bed."

She smiled wickedly and led me into the bedroom, giving a little more wiggle with her ass than was strictly necessary, then kneeling on the bed before rising to a standing position. Standing on the bed in heels was harder than she expected, and she nearly fell before catching herself against the wall. She faced me as I stood to one side, just taking in the sight of her, and relishing the knowledge that her mother was watching. So far, so good. Tamar was in just the right mood, and there was no sign that her mother was even there.

Since Tamar was looking so much like a stripper, I'd decided she could put on a show. "Striptease for me, slut," I said. "Make me want you bad."

In a flash, Tamar's demeanor changed from lighthearted college chick to sultry siren. She looked right at me and slowly, seductively licked her lips. Her hips began to move, almost imperceptibly at first, then a little more, and a little more, swaying in time with the music which still wafted gently through the room. I kept my gaze on Tamar, carefully refraining from looking towards the closet. I knew Veronica could see everything, and I hoped she was enjoying the show as much as I was. Tamar continued to tease, moving her body this way and that, reaching down to the hem of her top and drawing it up to expose her navel and taut, girlish stomach. She held it there, just below her breasts, and continued to dance, then let it the shirt drop back into place.

My personal stripper bent down and removed her shoes to reveal red-painted toes. With a more secure footing, she stood again and began to dance with more energy, turning this way and that, showing off her exceptionally hot young body to best effect. She lifted the hem of her top again, but no teasing this time. It came off and she tossed it to one side where it fell, as luck would have it right at the closet door. I couldn't suppress a grin. Still dancing, Tamar caressed and pinched her nipples, eyes closing as she enjoyed her own touch. Eventually her hands slid languorously down her body, her thumbs hooking into the top of her skirt. "Want it to come off?" she teased.

I smiled. "But of course. I need to see whether you have followed my instructions."

She laughed and her thumbs moved downwards, pushing her skirt over her hips. She let it fall, left it on the bed and kept dancing. Tamar was clad now in a black lace thong, highlighted with red embroidered roses. I knew those panties – I had seen them on Veronica. "Good girl," I said softly. "Do you like wearing your Mom's panties, you filthy little whore?"

She blushed. "It feels ... nasty."

"Who do you think she wears those for?"

"Dad, I suppose. But I can't imagine ... ewww. Besides, she's old and dry. I bet they never fuck any more anyway."

I laughed and let her keep dancing. Did you hear that, Veronica? Your daughter is here, stripteasing on my bed, wearing your panties, while you're tied in the closet watching. And you're apparently too old and dry to fuck. Still laughing to myself, I stood and undressed before walking over to the bed.

"Kneel down, Tamar, and suck my cock."

She immediately dropped to her knees while I stood beside the bed. The heights were awkward ... she needed to stretch her neck out and down to get my cock without falling off the bed, but she did it without a second thought. Several months as a fuckslave had taught her well. Tamar began with soft licks and kisses, tasting my pre-cum and kissing along the length of my shaft, before dipping her mouth down over me, engulfing me in warm wetness. Not really sucking yet, just taking me into her mouth. She lifted her mouth away, and the wet skin felt suddenly cool as she continued kissing my shaft. Finally she sank her mouth onto my cock in earnest, working me hard, but not too hard. Neither of us wanted me to cum just yet.

I decided it was time to have a little more fun, humiliating both the daughter and the mother at once. I tapped Tamar on the head. "Keep sucking me, slut, but moo like a cow."

I saw her eyebrows raise. Moo? She did so, though, suckling on my cock and sounding like a heifer. I laughed at her and she blushed. "Now oink like a pig!" She did so, still sucking. "You really are a little piggy, aren't you Tamar? My own little fuckpig, snorting and sucking." She kept oinking, sucking and blushing. "Imagine what your Mom would say if she could see you now."

Tamar wasn't so enthusiastic now. She was embarrassed, humiliated. Sometimes she got so into the sex that she forgot she was my slave, not my girlfriend, and that while I love fucking her, I am not ultimately concerned whether she's having fun or not. Had she known Mommy really was watching, she'd probably have died of shock.

I pushed her face off my cock and sent her sprawling onto the bed. I rolled onto it and caught her panties in one hand. I pulled hard, and there was the sound of shearing fabric, and a gasp as the panties dug into Tamar's leg before tearing from her body. "Fuck! Mom's gonna kill me."

I tossed the panties aside, chuckling to myself. Without further ado, I pushed Tamar into a conventional missionary position and slid into her. She grunted, a hot fulfilled little grunt, as I bottomed out in her. While I was nice and firmly inside her, I carefully linked my ankles over hers and used my hands to brace her shoulders so that she could barely move. I whispered "Struggle, fuckwhore. Pretend I'm raping you and you need to get away."

She didn't need any more encouragement. We'd played this game before, and she was very convincing. She tensed her body and then, without warning, began thrashing to try to throw me off, crying and groaning with the effort, her nails becoming claws to scratch at me. I grabbed on harder, resisting her escape, and pounding her pussy with my cock. The harder she fought to get away, the more tightly I grabbed and held her. The more furiously she struggled, the harder I fucked her. It was like fucking a lioness, and I loved it.