Victoria is Blackmailed!

Copyright (c) 2022 Cassidy Egan All rights reserved.

Victoria the Vicar's Wife has a Problem with IT.

"Oliver. Can you spare me a couple of minutes?" asked Mrs. Appleby.

Oliver Tallow wasn't pleased to be interrupted by the middle aged, housewife from next door. All day at school he'd relished with anticipation the fact that today, unusually, he'd have about an hour before his mother returned home. An hour he planned to use masturbating or engaged in the 'Devil's pastime' as his mother often referred to it, accusingly. "Is there something the matter, Mrs. Appleby?"

"I've been looking out for you all afternoon, hoping to catch you just as soon as you got home," she replied. "Your mother has told me often of how good you are with computers. I was doing something on Kenneth's PC, and it seems to have gone haywire."

That was typical of his mother, he thought, a classic example of her hypocrisy. She refused to let him have his own computer or mobile phone, only allowing him supervised access to her laptop in the kitchen, in case he accessed what she referred to as 'filth', yet the woman had no problem bragging about how tech savvy her son was to the neighbours. "What's wrong with it?" asked Oliver. "Is it malware or ransomware? Did you pick up a virus?"

"I'm sorry, Oliver. I've no idea what any of those terms mean. Could you come over to the house and have a look at it now?"

"I've a lot of homework to do, Mrs. Appleby," said Oliver with a shrug of his shoulders to suggest that he would love to help her, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. His mother locked away the computer when she wasn't there, but he had only that day bought an old copy of Fiesta from his friend Timmy Burke, and the cover girl alone promised to supercharge his masturbatory fantasies. "But, just as soon as I'm finished, I'll call in and take a look? How's that?"

With a look of desperation on her face, Mrs. Appleby placed her hand on his arm and said, almost pleadingly, "Please, Oliver. Can't you come with me now? You might be able to fix what's wrong before my husband comes back from the church. He has all his sermons and correspondence, and God knows what else saved on the thing. He'll be so annoyed with me if everything's lost."

"Okay, Mrs. Appleby," Oliver said defeatedly. "Just let me leave my schoolbag inside the door and I'll be there in a minute."

"That's okay," said Mrs. Appleby. "I'll wait. We can go together."

Oliver thought, Jesus! This woman's almost as controlling as my mother. I'm eighteen years old. Legally a man, I think. Why do these women continue to treat me like a child?

Frumpy was the word that came into his head when he looked at Mrs. Appleby, as she walked down his driveway and entered her own garden. He recalled something his mother said about her being past her mid-forties but in his opinion, if anything, she seemed to go out of her way to appear as if she was older. She dressed very like his mother, and he wondered if this was because both were so involved in the local church. They both wore baggy cardigans over ruffled, collared blouses, buttoned up to their necks. The helms of their dark skirts were always long, so they stretched well past their knees, even in summer, and their shoes were flat and practical. In the case of Mrs. Appleby, she added to this unappealing presentation by wearing very large glasses, and having her red hair pulled back into a severe bun.

"The PC is on the desk in his study," she said once they were inside her house. "Can I bring you a sandwich while you work? You must be hungry after a long day at school."

"That's okay, Mrs. Appleby," responded Oliver.

"Please, call me Victoria," she said giving a rare smile. "You're all grown up now, and I've known you and your mum for years. It seems silly to be so formal."

Despite his refusal of her offer, she quickly returned from the kitchen with a glass of Coke. "Do you know what's the matter with it?" she asked, as she placed the drink on the desk beside him and leaned over his shoulder to take a look at the computer's screen.

"It looks like you've picked up a virus," replied Oliver. "It seems to be locking everything up."

"That sounds bad," said Victoria looking very concerned.

"It can be. Depends on the virus, but I think I should be able to fix it."

"That's wonderful, Oliver," she said.

"It might take a little while, though."

"Oh," she replied disappointedly. "I was hoping you could have it sorted before Kenneth gets back. He'll be so annoyed when he finds out I was using it."

"I'll do my best," said Oliver. "What time are you expecting him home?"

"Not for another hour. He's meeting with members of the local Women's Institute in the vestry. Your mother's probably there too."

Oliver had a lightbulb moment. Perhaps he could exploit this situation. Oh, boy, what he could do with an hour's unbridled use of a computer with a high-speed WIFI connection. "I don't want to appear rude, Mrs. Appleby, but..."

"Victoria," she corrected him with a smile.

"I don't want to be rude, Victoria, but what I need to do requires concentration. Could you leave me alone to work on it for a while."

"Well... Yes, of course, I'll leave you to it," replied Victoria, although there was an uncertainty to her tone. "I suppose, I could be getting on with some things I need to do around the house and the garden. You'll call me if you need anything, or when you've sorted it out?"

"Just as soon as I'm finished, Mrs.... I'm sorry, Victoria. I'll call you immediately I've sorted out the problem."

Once he was alone, Oliver set to work. In less than ten minutes he had unlocked the PC and downloaded some free security software from the internet.

Then, as he ran a quick virus scan and clean, he quietly went to the door of the study. Victoria had left it slightly ajar. He opened it and looked outside. The woman was nowhere to be seen. Perfect. He closed the door thinking it was finally time when he could engage in some of the Devil's pastime.

Returning to the PC, Oliver flexed and stretched his fingers, just like an old-fashioned safe cracker might do, called up a search engine, and was about to input the address of his favourite porn site, when another idea struck him. Just what had Kenneth, the parish vicar, got in his search history that he was so keen for his wife to avoid?

Bingo. Listed in the history was a page entitled, Lacey Takes Two Cocks. The dirty, old bastard. It was typical of the religious hypocrisy to be found everywhere in this small, country village. He shouldn't really be surprised. The stifling sanctimoniousness was to be encountered everywhere., whether it was his mother, or at his school and now even evidenced on the vicar's personal computer.

But wait. The time stamp. This page was accessed less than ninety minutes ago. That means... Oh, holy fuck! That means it must have been Mrs. Appleby accessing porn, not her husband. The horny, old cunt. No wonder she was so keen for Kenneth not to find out she'd used his PC. She must have been accessing dodgy porn websites when she picked up the virus.

Oliver couldn't wait any longer, he clicked on the link to open the page. Before he hit the play button, he looked at the frozen scene. It was so obviously an old clip, the sort that was categorized on porn sites as 'vintage' or 'classic', and the quality didn't promise to be great. The screenshot showed a big breasted, red-haired woman who was wearing an old-fashioned school uniform of the English style. Grey blazer and short, pleated skirt with a white blouse and short necktie. There was even a straw boater hat on the desk where she was lying spread eagled, while two male schoolteachers, wearing black gowns and mortar-board hats, stood at either end of the desk with their erections exposed. Another confirmation of the vintage of the clip was the fact that the front of her short skirt was pulled up and she wore no panties, revealing an unshaved mound with a generous amount of pubic hair.

He took a screengrab of the image and sent it to the nearby printer. Because of his normally very restricted access to the internet, his main source of pornography was purchasing old softcore magazines, such as his recently acquired copy of Fiesta, from his friend, Timmy. Timmy had come across a hidden stash of his grandad's wank mags in their attic. Some of them dated as far back as the seventies, with titles like Mayfair, Knave and Penthouse. They weren't always the most inspirational, and most were very tame compared to what was freely available on the internet, but Oliver couldn't afford to be choosy. Although every now and then he would come across a model, or a picture spread that caught his attention and he'd carefully cut out her photographs and compile his own, secret album that he hid in the garden shed.

This screengrab was definitely going into the album. Her beautiful, big tits made sure of that. Also, there was something vaguely familiar about the woman on the screen. Oliver tried to remember if she'd been someone who'd caught his eye in one of the older magazines that he'd acquired.

Anyway, at that moment he had no time to waste on such details. Mrs. Appleby could come back at any moment. As he returned to the desk from the printer, he gave the bulge in the front of his pants a quick and pleasurable squeeze. Just as soon as he sat back in the swivel chair, he pressed play on the screen, and lost no time taking out his already hard cock.

If Oliver hadn't been so distracted by the imminent prospect of a quick, illicit wank, as he returned from the printer, he might have caught a fleeting glimpse of a disappearing shadow in the corner of the window immediately behind the desk. Victoria Appleby had watched his every move and action from the garden, her concern mounting, and her worst fears confirmed when Oliver had opened the webpage for Lacey Takes Two Cocks.

********

Victoria had met with Jacqueline Pinot only a week before. She was the only contact the vicar's wife had maintained with her previous life. They met at most twice a year and, as usual, on this occasion they'd spent the day in London. A little shopping, although it was only Jackie who bought anything, followed by a late lunch with too many glasses of Sauvignon Blanc.

"Don't you miss the days when you were known as Lacey Stark, and I was Nicole Bardot?" asked Jackie, as a fresh bottle of wine was delivered to their table.

Victoria didn't reply until after the waiter had left them alone again. "No."

"Darling, I simply don't believe you. The fun we had. Don't you remember?"

It had been fun. Great fun, for a while. As she turned twenty, Victoria had been encouraged to leverage her good looks and killer body into a career as a model, but although her then agent had insisted that topless and nude posing was a gateway to the high-end fashion magazines and runways, it only led to offers to appear in increasingly hardcore pornographic films. But it really had been trilling and enjoyable, especially after she'd met Jackie on one of the sets. They'd filmed a very hot and steamy lesbian scene before they'd even exchanged their real first names.

What followed was a wild and raucous period of about two years, where they both earned decent money, although Victoria squandered hers on clothes, parties and more than her fair share of recreational drugs. Jackie was always the more astute of the two, especially when it came to business. She became an agent, signing up Victoria almost immediately, and even directed a couple of films. She was talking about setting up her own production company just before she snared what they commonly referred to as a 'normal'. Someone completely removed from the porn industry. In this case it was a rich, well-to-do banker who had no idea that she'd made her way through life as Nicole Bardot, the porn star. The banker swept Jackie off her feet and married her.

Victoria was happy for her friend, but the fun went out of the life along with Jackie. She carried on for a while, but it just wasn't the same afterwards, and as is the case with most careers in porn, the types of offers she received were getting increasingly extreme, until her new agent actually booked her to appear in a bukkake with as many as fifteen men. That was when she quit the business.

Going straight, as she thought of it, was far harder than she'd anticipated. Living off her rapidly dwindling savings, she tried to get a regular job but was totally underqualified for anything that paid well. Then one day she met Kenneth Appleby. It was only on their third date that he informed her he was a curate, hoping to become a vicar in due course. She'd never been strongly religious, but she liked him enough to continue the relationship. Then, after they'd been going out for a year, he was successful in his application for the vicarship of a small town called Davon-on-the-Wey and he asked if she would marry him. She agreed.

Victoria threw herself wholeheartedly into the role of a vicar's wife. She involved herself in lots of the church's activities, including running the Sunday school and coaching the local girl's hockey team. Along the way, she and Kenneth had two children, a boy, and a girl, both now away at university.

Soon her previous life was completely blotted out. Her only link being these infrequent hook-ups with her best friend.

"You haven't forgotten the many escapades we had?" asked Jackie, with a little laugh.

"What are you up to?" asked Victoria suspiciously.

"Nothing," replied Jackie, displaying a deliberately mock innocence. "Just taking a trip down memory lane with an old friend. What's the harm in that?"

"Come on, Jackie. I know you too long. What are you really up to?"

"Well, darling. Have you ever done an internet search for Lacey Stark or Nicole Bardot?"

"No, but I'm guessing you have."

"They're all up there. All our old films. There we are, sucking and fucking in all our glory."

"Jackie, please! Keep your voice down."

"Well, it's true, darling. All you have to do is key in our old stage names and they're all there, lined up in little screenshots ready to play. Someone's making money off our labours, even now after... What must it be? Twenty years?"

"Closer to twenty-five," replied Victoria. "But what does it matter? It's not as if anyone would recognise us. Not now after all this time."

"Out of idle curiosity, I also typed in the name of Alexa Valentine. "I had her on the books for a while. A Brazilian blonde with silicone implants and an irrational fear of semen seeping into her ears. I would have understood if it were her eyes, that stings like unlubricated anal, but her ears? That really was weird. Don't you remember her?"

"Vaguely. She got out of the business even before you did. Married a football coach or something. What about her?"

"Darling, imagine my surprise when I found clips, she'd made only in the last couple of years? Can you believe that? She came out of retirement. Was in something called, Slutty Grandmas, Volume 6. She was being fucked by this ripped Adonis who could only have been half her age. Apparently, these videos of older women with much younger men are growing in popularity."

"You're not..." said Victoria in real shock. "You're not really thinking of getting back into the business, are you?"

"Why not?" replied Jackie indignantly. "Porn is all the rage, these days. It's almost respectable. There's truckloads of money to be made from it."

"Perhaps. But I imagine any money is being made by the owners of the sites that deal in that filth. No different than our day when it was the producers and distributors that made the millions. Not the likes of us. Not the actual people who take part in the films. Besides, it's not as if you need the money. Didn't your banker leave you very well off in the divorce settlement?"

"Money isn't everything. I miss the buzz and excitement. The idea that millions of cocks could be going off watching me being fucked. Don't you miss it at all?"

"I'm happy being a vicar's wife. I don't want to go back to all that sleaze. Besides, neither of us look as good as we did back then."

"Speak for yourself," her companion snapped.

"You're my best friend, Jackie. I'd never mean to hurt your feelings, but you have to accept the reality."

"I still look fuckable for my age." As Jackie said this, she pushed out her chest and placed her hands on her hips to emphasize the slimness of her waist. "And you look even better. Positively ravishing, darling."

It was true, Victoria knew she looked good today. Before she'd set out that morning, she'd taken care to look her best. A consequence of the friendly rivalry that had always existed between the two women, a throwback to their professional days. Her fiery-red hair hung loose to her shoulders and gone were her glasses. She wore a blue, floral summer dress, which was low cut enough to foreground her ample breasts and showed off how coaching the girl's hockey team for so many years had maintained her figure. She'd applied makeup, but only after she took her seat on the train.

Jackie really was determined to keep the subject going. "Besides, in our day, it was all fake tits sitting on a beanpole figure, not that either of us needed to go under the knife, thankfully. But today's taste in body shape is much more varied and naturalistic. There's all shapes and sizes on these porn sites. Mind you, a good set of tits still goes a long way."

"You're seriously thinking of going back into porn?" asked Victoria in dismay.

"Come on. The two of us back together. It'll be fun. Lacey and Nicole Ride Again, or Lacey and Nicole Get Ridden Again." She laughed at her own joke. "I've done my research. The high-end production costs of our day have been replaced by do-it-yourself amateurs. We can own the website, keep production costs negligible and I haven't even told you yet about OnlyFans."

"Only... What? No, it doesn't matter. As much as I love you, Jackie, I'm never doing pornographic films ever again. Sorry count me out."

In the week that followed her conversation with Jackie, Victoria's resolve never to return to her former career intensified, but so too did her curiosity about her old films now being commonly available on the internet. On the day she knew her husband, Kenneth, would be tied up for most of the afternoon, meeting with the Women's Institute, she gave into temptation and turned on his personal computer and searched for a video clip from all those years ago.

As she watched images of two men fucking her younger self, it wasn't long before she felt her nipples harden, and her pussy moisten, then the screen went berserk with random popups, before freezing completely. The only recourse she could think of in her desperation was the often surly, young man who lived next door. The one who used to have an obvious crush on her daughter, and whose mother had told her countless times was a whiz with computers. There was always the chance he'd come across the video, but what choice did she have? She had to take the risk.

Now as she looked through the window into the study, she witnessed, to her horror, Oliver discovering the file, then opening it. The fact that he was masturbating to it, in her own home, was disturbing, but not nearly as worrying as the thought that the young man might have recognised her as the woman in the school uniform being double fucked on the desk.

Christ! If her past life was exposed in this small, closeknit village, her life and marriage would be ruined. Had Oliver recognised her? The only way she could know for certain was to disturb him in the study and gauge his reaction.

"Everything sorted, Oliver?" she called out as with deliberate slowness, she opened the door to the study and put her head inside.