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Authors: Elliot Mabeuse

Tags: #Erotic, #Romance

Helene Blackmailed (7 page)

BOOK: Helene Blackmailed
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“You like it like this,” he said. “You like to be treated like this, to be taken and fucked by a man who’ll do anything to have you. That’s why you’re so excited, isn’t it? You know I’m going to strip your clothes off you and tie you up, then lay you down on the bed and fuck you good and hard. You know I’m going to make you suck my cock too, don’t you, Helene? You know I’m going to put my big cock in your pretty mouth and you’re going to show me what a hot little thing you are.”

Helene kept both hands at her sides balled into fists, wanting to touch him but knowing that he wouldn’t let her interfere with what he had planned for her. He took the knife in his hand again and she watched as he very carefully inserted the blade beneath the top button on her blouse. He moved it until he caught the thread against the edge and then he gave a little flick.

The button popped free and skittered across the bare wooden floor. Her blouse parted under the insistent pressure of her breasts, showing the tops of the full mounds in their brief, gauzy bra, swollen with excitement. She could feel his breath in her ear as he slid the knife down to the next button, right between her breasts and he cut that one away too.

She looked down to see the silver blade of the knife sliding against her warm flesh. He was destroying a favorite blouse but she hardly cared about that. The feel of that cold blade gliding against her skin was wickedly entrancing. He was careful to keep the sharp edge away from her skin, but even so, the pressure of steel against skin was enough to make her legs tremble with wild and delicious fear.

He held her like that, with his hand over her mouth, and he cut the buttons of her blouse one by one, slowly, deliberately. When he finished he increased his grip, telling her to hold very still. She felt the blade slide up between her breasts and beneath her bra, then he turned it and with a quick flick he sliced the bra in two. He pulled the ruined blouse from her skirt then turned her around.

The knife was back at her throat now, his other gloved hand holding her hair. He pushed her down, slowly, inexorably down to her knees, though he hardly had to use force. Helene’s legs were like water and she had to reach out and dig her nails into his trousers to keep her balance as she sank down, eyes closed, almost afraid to look. She heard the harsh rasp of his zipper and the metallic clink of his belt as he opened it, and she felt the subtle movement in the air as he dropped his pants. She could sense the maleness of his lust, feel it like heat on her lips. Maybe it was the scent of him or the feel of his heat on her cheeks, but she could sense the urgency of his cock reaching for her. She lifted her face and looked up at him and saw the wild intensity in his eyes, his jaw clenched hard. She knew what he wanted.

She felt herself melting and she opened her mouth and leaned forward, letting his swollen hardness slide over her lips. That spear of urgent flesh slid into her mouth, impossibly hot and throbbing with masculine potency and desire for her.

It was his need that did it, the savage desire she felt from him. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt from anyone else and it made her achingly weak and compliant. She wanted to be good to him. She knew that she was the cause of his need and she wanted desperately to give him what he wanted, what he was so determined to take. She opened her mouth wide and sucked hungrily on his cock, leaning forward until she felt the brush of his hair against her nose and the dull head of his phallus nudging against the back of her throat.

“Oh, yes!” he groaned in breathless pleasure. “You hot little tease!”

The breathy excitement in his voice thrilled her. He reached down and took thick handfuls of her rich hair and its silkiness in his fingers was like the slickness of her mouth sliding over his cock. Helene fell into an erotic trance. Her blouse was open and her breasts hung free of the confines of her cut bra. She already felt ravaged by his desire and she put her hands up tentatively and felt the muscles of his thighs, like cords of steel. His whole body was hard for her, muscles rigid with the need for release.

He began to fuck her, holding her hair in his hands and pumping into her saliva-slick mouth. He thrust so hard that he knocked her off her knees and onto her bottom so that she was forced to sit beneath him, her skirt up around her thighs. From here she could hardly maintain contact and she had to reach up and take him in her hand and pull him down so she could get the head in her mouth. She sat there in the shelter of his powerful legs, head thrown back, nursing at his hard cock, masturbating him into her sucking mouth.

“Get up,” he said. He reached down and took hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet, then pressed her back against the wall. Helene was nearly delirious with need and she forgot all about the injunction of not touching. He’d already debased her, cutting off her clothes and fucking her mouth, treating her like his personal property. What more did she have to lose?

She grabbed on to him as he leaned against her and dug her nails into his shoulders as his hand went under her skirt. The sexy panties she’d worn just in case she might see him today were now nothing more than an impediment and he shoved them aside, his fingers pushing up brutally inside her. Helene groaned in masochistic pleasure. It was terrible the way he used her, the way he treated her so callously and yet it made her wild for more. She reached down and pulled her skirt up, then spread her thighs and thrust her hips out to give herself more fully to him. His fingers hurt her. They felt wonderful.

He pulled the torn blouse down over her shoulders, then her bra. She kissed him feverishly and he had to pull back from her as his hands went to the waist of her skirt.

“Where the fuck is the zipper on this thing?”

“In the back. In the back,” she gasped.

“Take it off. Your panties too.”

He stepped back from her to give her room. Her hands were shaking as she found the clasp at the back of her skirt and opened it, then pulled down the zipper and slid her skirt down her legs. Her slip followed and then her panties. She held on to the doorknob as she stepped out of them, then stood there, uncertain and expectant, dressed only in her shoes.

Despite her burning need for him she was naked now and very self-conscious. Aside from his jacket, he was still fully dressed and her nakedness seemed just another sign of her shame and subservience to this man. His pants were down around his thighs, his cock gleaming with her own saliva, another sign of her degradation. She stood before him as naked as a slave awaiting his orders, hoping desperately that he liked what he saw.

For a moment she flashed back to herself at work, the way she’d been before she’d met him. She briefly remembered what it was like to be her normal self, to wield power over others, to have her advice and opinions sought out by her peers. And yet with that memory came a feeling of coldness and distance, of a woman who kept within herself, and that was so very far removed from what she felt now, alive all over, naked and exposed and aching to feel his furious male need unleashed on her again.

“Just like when we met,” he said. “Remember? I had you undress for me. You still love it, don’t you?”

Helene stood there trying to keep from panting with lust, too impatient to answer. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“Lean against the door and don’t move, just like before. Just wait for me. I have to get something.”

She did as he said, still tasting his cock in her mouth, the male musk of him. He went into the back and came out directly carrying a thin riding crop and a bunch of rope. Helene felt her stomach tighten with a palpable jolt so hard she felt herself squeeze out a rivulet of moisture. Had it really come to this? To ropes and whips? Had she really fallen so far?

He bound her wrists quickly behind her back. Already it was becoming familiar to her, like a game she knew they would play and yet a game that thrilled her with its precise ritual—now even more so, since he held that whip under his arm as he tied her and she knew what was coming. He was taking possession of her again, taking over her body and once her wrists were tied it was as if her nakedness didn’t matter anymore. Her nakedness was his now, just as her body was his, to play with, to do with as he wanted.

He made her lean against the door facing him with her legs apart and he stood over her, his gloved hands all over her body. Helene stood there with her eyes closed enduring his touch, thrilling to the indignity of being caressed and used like this. The more callously and harshly he used her, the more excited she became.

This was not what she’d expected to happen. When she’d gone to meet him for lunch she’d expected some tenderness, some attempt to put their relationship on a level that was more than just sexual, but now that hardly seemed to matter. This was enough. He’d told her that what he did to her was an expression of what he felt and that was more than enough—this feeling of helplessness, this frisson of fear she felt with him, her vulnerability and nakedness and her consuming arousal.

“No,” she said. “No!” as he pushed the tip of the crop against the insides of her knees, making her part her thighs even more.

She didn’t know precisely what was coming, but she knew she was about to cross some line—some last barrier was about to fall. He was going to use the whip on her. He was going to cement his dominance and her submission and she was going to go from being a lover to being something else. She was going to cross that line from being the victim to being the accomplice and it frightened her.

Daniel stopped then. He left her leaning back on her bound wrists against the door with her legs spread and he began to undress. He loosened his tie and removed it, dropped his trousers and took them off, then began to unbutton his shirt. As he did so he watched her and he seemed to be reading her mind.

“Have you ever been whipped?” he asked her.

She shook her head no, trying to keep her eyes from the massive bulge in his shorts.

“Of course not. You’ve never done any of this, have you?” he asked. “All of this, everything we’ve done since that first day is new to you, isn’t it?”

He unbuttoned his cuffs and slipped his shirt off.

“You must be so confused. You never had any idea you were like this, did you?”

She wanted to object. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t like this—that she was nothing of the kind. Again, she thought back to her office persona—the person she knew herself to be—but she couldn’t hold on to that feeling. She liked this version of herself better. She liked seeing the lust in his eyes when he looked at her. She liked the way he took her and used her and she liked the way he stripped down for action with her. She liked the way her nakedness seemed to bring out the animal in him and she loved the sight of his rampant hardness. His cock looked like it would tear through the front of his shorts.

He came over to her and took her hair again. He bent her face back for his kiss and as he did, he ran the tip of the whip up the insides of her legs. He let it toy with her pussy and Helene sucked his tongue hungrily into her mouth, daring him now to use the whip on her, daring him to take what was his.

The first blow spanked against her naked cunt and Helene jerked sharply. He stepped back to gain some room and she was able to look down and see the whip land again against the swollen lips of her pussy and a sharp, pre-orgasmic thrill spiked through her body, draining all the fight out of her. It was so glorious and so obscene. He began to whip her, bringing the whip up smartly against her sex as he held her head back and kissed her, loving her mouth and punishing her pussy. Helene, her hands tied behind her, spread her legs and gave herself over to this dual ravishment, each slap against her naked flesh driving her higher in her lust.

He whipped her and kissed her, the tip of the leather crop growing dark and slick with her own nectar of arousal. With every blow of the whip she groaned and sucked his tongue, inviting more, for she knew that she was being whipped because of his own wild need for her. It was his desire that made him do it, his need to possess her and so it was something she deserved.

When at last he stopped, she was trembling, hanging on the precipice of an unimaginable orgasm. Quickly he dropped the whip and stripped off his shorts. He reached down and slid his forearms between her legs then picked her up, pressing his palms against the door so that she hung with her legs over his arms, straddling them. She was open and spread, just inches above his straining cock and slowly, awkwardly he lowered her, sliding his hands down and pushing his hips forward at the same time until the blunt head of his shaft parted her wet, baby-soft labia and began to work its way inside her.

His strength was incredible as he held her like that, letting her slowly sink down onto his cock. She was as helpless as a child in his arms, unable to stop his maddening penetration, unable to keep him out even if she’d wanted to and all she could do was kiss blindly at his face, urging him to hurry and fill her before her orgasm took her but it was too late. The pressure of his hardness inside her, the way her own weight made her clit press down against his rigid stalk brought her own wicked pleasure bubbling up through her body. She fought against it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of making her come so quickly and easily but it was no use and she cried out though teeth clenched in denial as his conquering manhood forced her to surrender her pleasure to him.

Her orgasm and the spasms of release that racked her body seemed to satisfy him momentarily and he held her nailed against the door on his cock as she sobbed and shook through her climax. Then he pulled his cock carefully from her, as if it had become fused to her, and lowered her gently to her feet.

“On the couch,” he said. He took her arm and pulled her toward the sofa. He turned her around and pushed her down on her back. “Spread.”

Her body was still shaking, her nerves were raw and hypersensitive from her orgasm and she could hardly control her muscles but Daniel took her ankles in his hands and forced her knees up against her chest.

“Wait,” she said. “Give me a second to catch my breath— Oh God!”

BOOK: Helene Blackmailed
3.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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