Wife Blackmailed

WIFE BLACKMAILED

Monique had just experienced multiple orgasms at the hands of B.D., her son's martial arts instructor. Billy had complained of being bullied by bigger kids at school, so Monique encouraged him to train under the guidance of one of his bullies' father. The father turned out to not only be a martial arts trainer, but a demanding alpha male. Now, she feared, she was being bullied.

B.D. was an irresistible bastard. He was physically imposing, tall, muscular, rugged looking, and charismatic. He was experienced sexually, knowledgeable and skillful in the art of love making. But love had little to do with this story. B.D. knew how to introduce a mature woman to raw sexual bliss.

Monique moved quickly, rolling out of the bed where moments before she had an explosive orgasm that flooded the sheets with vaginal fluid and urine. While climaxing she erupted, spewing fluids not only on the bed, but all over B.D's face, hair, and chest. She was both stunned and embarrassed. In her thirty-five years she had never experience the loss of her bodily functions. She was paradoxically frightened and sexually aroused. Making matters worse B.D. had taken several photos of her nude and ravaged body.

B.D. was now in the shower, so she made a quick exit out of the bedroom. She gathered up her bra and blouse, dressed, smoothed out her rumpled skirt, and dashed out the door wobbling on spiked heels. She made a quick exit to escape the clutches of her new lover.

After driving home, she showered, washed her hair again, and dried off. Stepping into her closet looking for something to wear to work, she glanced at the full-length mirror and took a double take. Her nipples were still aroused, breast swollen enhancing their fullness, and small bruises were noticeable on both her fleshy well-toned thighs. Her cheeks and eyes were red, but her mood was blue. Monique felt the pangs of guilt. She had committed adultery for the first time. She dried her hair, dressed, and went off to the real estate office where she worked. Important paperwork was stacked on her desk.

Thankfully that night, Billy, her son was busy playing video games with his dad. Her husband would not notice her recently ravaged body. He had eyes for numbers, stats, and gaming. He was a technological nerd.

Several days passed since the encounter with B.D. While driving home after picking up her son from school, Billy asked if he could have more martial arts lessons from B.D. She blurted out, "Why?" He told her he needed to hone his skills. "I'm now getting some respect," he bragged.

During dinner Billy ask his dad if he could have another three days of training. He answered tersely, "I am okay with another week. Your mood has improved. Go for it." Later that night Monique fired off a text to B.D. asking if he was willing to continue training Billy. He answered within an hour. They were on for next Monday bright and early.

The next week, like clockwork, Monique chauffeured Billy over to B.D.'s house for an hour of martial arts training. She dressed casually wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. She did not want B.D leering at her voluptuous body. But her conservative dress didn't stop her from admiring B.D.'s athletic frame. His muscled arms and legs rippled as he gracefully trained her son in the fine art of self-defense. He pushed Billy to improve, but never to the point of physical or mental discomfort.

At the close of their final session he walked Monique to the front door. Billy had dashed to the car ready and eager for school. He was a new boy. Monique again thanked B.D. for his coaching. She offered to pay for his services. He smiled and said sternly, "I don't want your money. I want your body."

"What?" Monique shot back defensively.

"You heard me," B.D. said.

"I can't. I'm a married woman," she answered indignantly.

"Yes, that's a fact. But you are also a slut. Be here Monday morning at nine. Wear something that will please me. This is not a request. This is an order." He went in the front door, turned and flashed her a wicked grin. "Don't be late."

Monique drove Billy to school, went home and dressed for work. It was TGIF. She was tired. She had looked forward to the weekend, but it turned out to be stressful. She was consumed by thoughts of B.D.'s last Friday's order. The bastard had the audacity to end their brief conversation with "Don't be late."

The weekend dragged on. She had an open house on Sunday. There were several couples stopping by in the early afternoon, but the last few of hours dragged on leaving her alone with her tormented thoughts. Monday morning was closing in. There seemed to be no escape. If she didn't show, the bastard would surely blackmail her. He had taken a few photos of her bruised and ravaged body after their torrid sex. He had forced her to look at his phone. It revealed several revealing photos of her swollen breasts, aroused nipples, and slightly bruised thighs. He had evidence. She knew he would use it.

She woke up early Monday morning, made breakfast for Billy, and saw her husband off to work. As he left the house her mounting guilt intensified. If she ignored the bastard's demands, she would pay with prolonged grief. If she complied, her guilt would be washed away by intense erotic pleasure. Her mind was shot through with nagging guilt; but her body craved the bastard's masterful sexual skills.

After driving Billy to school, she showered, wash her hair, and shaved clean the small patch of dark hair adorning her aching pussy. Scanning her closet, she seized on the appropriate outfit. A micro mini black skirt she had worn to a costume party back in her college days. The black skirt just barely covered her voluptuous ass. When she moved about the closet her satin smooth flesh rippled beneath the clingy material. She chose white stockings and attached them to a black garter belt. The white fabric of the sheer stockings added alluring contrast with her olive complexion. She chose the black spiked heels she wore the last time she was seduced by the bastard. She looked at the floor length mirror in her closet and gasped, "Fucking slut." She completed the outfit with a bra she bought years ago at Victoria's Secret. The bra was designed with small openings where her large nipples poked through. Over her bra she put on a sheer nearly transparent silver blouse. She had only warned this blouse with a camisole. Every time she moved the sheer material of the blouse massaged her extended nipples.

She was just about to leave the house when it donned on her that this outfit was not appropriate for public consumption. She camouflaged her slutty out fit with a black house coat with gold trim around the neck and sleeves. "It's now or never," she shouted to the empty house. "God help me!"

She drove to B.D.'s house, parked, took a deep breath and approached the front door. Her right hand trembled as she rang the doorbell. B.D. greeted her with a lascivious grin and motioned for her to enter. "Have a seat on the sofa. I have coffee brewing." He moved to the kitchen, poured two mugs of black coffee, spiked one with the same aphrodisiac he used before, and sweetened it with a splash of brandy. He had already taken Viagra earlier in the morning; the pump was primed, he mused. B.D. returned to the living room, gave the spiked mug to Monique, and placed his on the coffee table. Before sitting he retrieved a joint from his tan khaki pants. He picked up the lighter from the coffee table and lit the marijuana. His black tank top revealed us muscled arms with shoulders inked with a voluptuous brunette on one shoulder, and a skull dripping blood on the other. "A little something to spice things up," he said lustfully.

He settled in next to Monique, took a long drag on the joint and said, "Dressed a bit conservatively this morning." He held onto the M.J. for several seconds, and the exhaled a cloud of smoke directly at Monique. He handed her the joint. She retrieved it and stared at the fat funning looking cigarette. "It's been a long time since I've imbibed, "she confessed. She took a drag on the joint, held it in for a few seconds and then coughed, releasing another plume of smoke into the room.

Monique coughed again, and quickly took a sip of coffee. The pot immediately took effect. She instantly felt a calm take over her. She took another sip of coffee soothing her slightly irritated throat. B.D. took a long slow drag on the cigarette and then handed it to Monique. This time she slowly inhaled the pot, holding it in her lungs for sever seconds before exhaling. She handed back the joint and fell back on the softness of the sofa. Her body was now relaxed; the previous tension had disappeared leaving her floating on an imaginary cloud. She slowly crossed her legs exposing her white sheer stockings and silky-smooth upper thighs adorned with a black garter belt. Any feeling of tension was gone replaced by sensual tingling in her nipples and clit. Her every movement caused the sheer blouse to drag across her nipples sending erotic sparks throughout her breasts and cunt. She felt moisture pooling in her bikini underwear.

B.D. finally broke the silence, "Are you going to show me your attire? Will it please me?" he said.

Monique gathered the strength to stand, pushed herself up from the sofa, and then walked slowly to the middle of the room. Her legs felt rubbery. She gazed at B.D. for long lust filled moments before slowly unbuttoning her black house coat. When the last button was released, she turned her back to him and tossed the housecoat aside.

B.D.'s cock lurched in his pants. Monique shifted her weight, slowly rocking her hips; her fleshy ass moved rhythmically beneath the short tight skirt. She slowly pivoted and revealed her full breasts, nipples poking through the bra. The nearly transparent blouse hid nothing. Monique's nipples were overly sensitive, especially when she was aroused. Her mini skirt revealed her upper thighs adorned with a black garter belt.

B.D. gazed at her. Sensual lust surged through his body. His cock was now rock hard. "Come here Monique. Join me on the sofa."

Monique walked slowly toward the sofa and slid down slowly next to the bastard. He is a fucking bastard, she thought. She laid her head back on the sofa, crossed her legs and gazed up at the ceiling. Time seemed to stop, her body tingled, and her cunt throbbed with mounting desire.

B. D cleared his throat and said, "Monique, have you ever had ménage a trois?"

"What?" She was stunned by the question.

"You know, a threesome."

"No way."

"Have you read about it?" B.D. studied her.

"I don't know. Perhaps girl talk." There was a long pause. "I did stumble across a few stories on the Internet."

"Did it turn you on?" B. D. could see Monique squirming knowing that he had caught her off guard.

"I don't remember." There was a long pause; the room fell silent. "Maybe a little." She picked up her coffee mug and took a long tug on the spiked brew. She felt vulnerable, aroused, and incredibly horny. Suddenly images of B.D. and another stranger kissing, licking, and stroking her voluptuous body took over her thoughts. Vaginal fluids leaked from her cunt and trickled down her upper thighs.

"Would you like to try it?" B.D. gazed at her tortured body. He knew she was on fire, consumed by erotic images of two alpha males dominating her with hot physical sex.

"I can visualize it, fantasize about it, but no way could I really do it." Monique turned, faced him, and looked him directly in his dark menacing eyes.

"I could arrange it. I showed a close friend of mine a couple of the photos I took after our hot sex. He thought you were sexy. He is a big dude, strong, well built, and experienced. He is the vice president of a local motorcycle club. He comes by my dealership quite often and we hit the bars for a few cold ones. He is a little younger, short and stocky. An old girlfriend confided in me that he is hung like a horse." B. D. smiled enjoying Monique's body kidnapping her sensibilities. She was his; he owned her now.

"I am leaving B.D." She attempted to stand up but immediately lost her balance, teetering on spiked heels, and sank back down next to B.D. Monique was overwhelmed, her head swimming with erotic images. She needed a release.

"He will be here in 10 minutes." B.D. announced authoritatively.

"Monique stumbled to her feet, walked unsteadily across the living room, bent down to pick up her housecoat and hustled toward the front door. B.D intercepted her and threw her up against the entry wall. He yanked her up several inches off the floor. Her legs dangled helplessly; her skirt pushed up around her hips. The nipples of her full breasts were stiff and swollen resembling fleshy straws ready to be milked.

"Listen Monique, I was just playing with you. I was only teasing. Calm down. No one is coming over. We have the house to ourselves," B.D. said smiling. He lowered her backdown bunching her skirt around her full hips. He gently smoothed her hair, tilted her head toward his, and softly kissed the dark-haired beauty. He tenderly nibbled her trembling lips, kissed her tenderly, and began exploring her mouth eventually finding her soft tongue.

She kissed him back for long moments and then abruptly pushed him away and yelled, "You bastard." Monique staggered back to the living room, sank down on the sofa and retrieved her coffee mug. The coffee had cooled, but the brew calmed her nerves. Anger and lust consumed her.

B.D. approached the sofa, peeled off his tank top, kicked off his sandals, and dropped his khaki pants. His manhood was at full staff, the blue veined monster bulging with blood. "Stand up," he commanded.

"What?" Monique glared at him; her anger was palpable.

"Stand up!" B.D. approached, lean down, and offered her his hand.

"Why? I'm happy here." She looked down avoiding his menacing stare.

"Get up off your fucking ass!" B.D. eyes narrowed as he reached down and yanked her up from the soothing comfort of the sofa.

Monique stumbled to her feet, pushed him aside, awkwardly crossed the room, and headed for the bathroom. The door slammed shut and locked.

B.D. approached the closed door and called out, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Relieving myself, you bastard," she yelled through the closed door.

B.D. waited outside the door. He stroked his enraged cock preparing it for a round of smoldering anger sex. He heard the toilet flush followed by the sound of running water. Moments later Monique unlocked and opened the door. She confronted B.D. and shouted, "Move out of the way." She attempted to squeeze past him, but he grabbed her and slapped her hard across the face. Monique fell backward, shocked by his violent outburst. Her left cheek instantly turned bright red.

B.D. pushed her back into the bathroom, quickly twisted her body around so she was facing the bathroom mirror. He forcefully bent her down over the bathroom basin, yanked up her black mini skirt, and slapped her hard on her voluptuous ass. She cried out, "Bastard. You're hurting me."

B.D. ignored her protest and slapped her ass again sending ripples of flesh in motion. Her crotchless panties gaped open giving him open access to her quivering cunt. He slapped her again sending her ass flesh in motion. He quickly dropped to his knees and began kissing and licking her quivering ass. After bathing her ass with his sensual kissing, he plunged his tongue deep in her pussy. He French kissed her pussy finding her sensitive clit.

Monique stopped her protests and began softly moaning with erotic pleasure. Soon the small bathroom was filled with heavy breathing, moans, and sucking sounds. B.D. stood erect and plunged his massive cock into her moist pussy. She cried out while pushing back against his brutal attack. Her ass quivered as he pounded her with his massive organ. The bathroom echoed for long moments with the sounds of slapping flesh. Monique cried out, "Fucking monster, I'm cumming, oh my God, I'm cummmmiiiiingg!."" Monique's body quaked and shuddered violently. The spasms consumed her spreading rapidly from her cunt to her hips and abs. Her legs trembled as he continued pounding the helpless woman.

Monique looked up at the mirror. She saw B.D.'s lust contorted face, his eyes menacingly staring into her soft gray-green eyes. He looked like the devil. She was both frightened and sexually aroused. She wanted more. She wanted to be dominated by the bastard.

B.D. pulled her up and yanked her out of the bathroom and down the hallway to the master bedroom. He pushed her down on the bed. Her skirt was reduced to a narrow black band around her hips, her legs splayed open providing an unobstructed view of her sheer white stockings, garter belt, and silky-smooth toned thighs. He lowered himself down on the bed and began licking her thighs, labia, and clit. He spent long lusty moments French kissing her cunt. He pulled back, stroked his massive cock, veins gorged with blood, and plunged to the depth of her being. Monique shriek with ecstatic pleasure while B.D. plowed her sex starved cunt.

Monique's eyes suddenly rolled to the back of her head, her moaning morphed into screams of ecstasy, and her whole body exploded with uncontrollable spasms. She arched her back, yelled something unintelligible, and shot an arcing stream of urine across the bed. The second volley struck his face, chest, and muscled abs.

Monique's body twitched and quaked on the bed for several minutes. When the spasms stopped, she rolled up into a fetal position. She nearly passed out. She could hear the shower running, so while B.D. was cleaning up she gathered up her belongings, put on her housecoat and walked as quickly as she could out the front door. She hopped in her car and headed home. It was nearly time to pick up Billy from school. She rushed home, used the garage door entrance for privacy, showered, brushed her hair, and put on makeup. Her body ached with deep sexual satisfaction. She felt equal amounts of bodily pleasure and moral guilt.

To be continued ...