Annie Gets Blackmailed

by Anne Zvesteit

Part 2

The cock staring back at me just inches from my face throbs expectantly. "I can't do this", I think desperately. "I have to do this, or he'll never give me back the picture he has of me dressed as a woman", I think even more desperately. The picture that could ruin my career.

I open my lipstick-covered lips a little, and bend forward toward the beast that commands me. "Kiss me", it says. Here goes, the first (and last!) time my lips touch another man's cock.

It's smooth, as I expected, except for the veins that I can feel as my lips run across them. I kiss the throbbing shaft one, two, three, four times down the left side, up the left side, pause briefly at the tip (should I kiss that? no!), down the right side, up the right, and before I know it my lips encase the helmet in one last gentle kiss...

"Annie?" I look up to see if Dave is enjoying this, and I'm shocked to see the camera up to his face and pointed at me. Before I can disengage my mouth from his throbbing organ, FLASHclick!, and I stumble away on the floor.

I'm outraged. "Hey! You promised! Goddammit, I ought to..."

Dave interrupts, looking at the display screen on his camera, "Ooh, that's hot. I can see your stockings and your tits and everything." Click click click -beep-. "There, I deleted the first picture, just as I promised."

"You goddamn bastard", I sneer. "We had a deal!"

"And I kept my end of the bargain, Annie. I never promised I wouldn't take more pictures." Dave is grinning, knowing he's got me worse than before. I don't know what he's got planned for me, but I'm certain I'm not gonna get off with just a hand job any more. Or more accurately, he's not.

"Besides, sweetie, you were enjoying it", he grins.

I don't bother dignifying that with an answer. Mainly because I'm not all that sure he's not right, and I'm just not ready to face that just yet. "All right, asshole. What's this one gonna cost me? A lap dance?"

"Baby, if you want this little gem, you're mine for the whole night. So come back here and finish what you started."

Now I'm well and truly beaten. There's a word for people who do what I'm about to do, and it's about to apply to me. I sink back to my knees in front of Dave, whose cock has since gone soft and hangs down over his (surprisingly large!) balls. I move my face close to his groin, still marked with bits of my lipstick, and look up into his eyes. Keeping eye contact all the time, I take his flaccid cock in my hand and guide it slowly into my mouth.

Slowly I suck the cock into my mouth, all the way down until my nose is pressed against his pubic hair. He starts to grow inside my mouth, and I rub my tongue along the shaft as I move my lips back slowly to the bulbous end. "Cocksucker!", screams my mind at me. "You're a filthy whore cocksucker!"

As Dave's cock grows larger and harder in my mouth, I can feel my own cock matching it, pressing against my satin panties insistently. I close my eyes, mouth clamped around the thick, spongy organ. "Cocksucker", I tell myself contentedly, "I am a cocksucker, and I think I like it."

Now Dave is fully hard and starting to make movements with his hips, pushing his cock into my mouth in rythym with my movements. He's not so large that I can't take him almost all the way without gagging, and I suck him up and down again and again and again.

My hands grip the sides of his hips, and he seems to like the feel of me touching him. He caresses my hair, moving his hands down to the back of my neck. I'm almost forty years old, and I never knew until tonight how sensual it is to have the back of your neck stroked. It feels so good I almost forget that I'm sucking another man's cock for the first time in my life.

I take the base of his cock in my hand and squeeze it firmly. This has the effect of sending more blood to the tip, where my tongue is caressing the helmet. Dave gasps in pleasure. I suck the tip while pumping the base with my hand, then every few seconds take it in as far as I can, then go back to sucking the tip. Dave responds with a "Oh, baby, suck it, yeah" every time I do.

I know I've always like the feel of my balls slapping into my wife's pussy, so Dave will probably like having his balls gently patted with my fingertips. He does. Does he like having them gently slapped from behind, too? Ah, yes, he does.

His hands grip the sides of my head, moving me back and forth against his pelvis. He chants "oh, yeah, suck my cock, suck it hard". He's moaning and groaning like he's gonna cum soon, and pushing his cock deep in my mouth.

With my hands free I can't help but to explore my own body as Dave fucks my mouth. My stockings feel so good on my legs, and my breasts feel so deliciously squishy, and my panty straps caress my hips, barely holding the gossamer fabric containing my erect and straining cock.

I'm wondering how I can arrange it so that he doesn't cum in my mouth when suddenly Dave's whole body stiffens as he grips my head tightly and pulls my mouth all the way onto his shaft. I push against his hips to escape, but he's so strong I might as well push against a brick wall.

My efforts to escape only stimulate him even more, and his cock gets rock-hard once, twice, three times. I feel his hot, creamy load shoot against the back of my mouth as Dave lets out a frenzied "Hnnngghh" of release.

I have no choice but to swallow the cum as Dave keeps his cock in my mouth for a few seconds after his orgasm. Then he pulls out, squeezes the final remnants of creamy jizz out to the tip, and rubs it all over my face.

My cock is still rock hard.

Dave smiles and says, "Oh, Annie, that was awesome. You say you've never sucked a cock before? You were born to it. Now, stand up."

I'm still reeling from the revelation that apparently I'm a born cocksucker, so I obediently do what he says. "Cocksucker", my mind repeats, as Dave pulls the dress over my head, being careful not to disturb my wig. "Does she swallow?", my mind asks. "Oh, yeah, like a pro", it answers itself smugly.

Dave pushes me back on the bed, so I'm laying down on my back, still wearing a slip, garter belt and stockings, high heels, and my panties. It seems wrong to see my still-hard cock poking out of my panties and creating a little tent in the soft slip material, so I raise one knee to camoflage it a little.

"God, you look sexy", says Dave, as I've realized that inadvertently I've struck a seductive pose.

"No, I...", I begin, but Dave interrupts.

"Now it's your turn, my little sex kitten", he says with a sly grin.

He lies next to me and forcefully kisses me. I can feel his manly package, flaccid but still quite large and covered in my spit, on my thigh and his hand on my right breast as his tongue explores my mouth. Without realizing quite why, I respond with my own tongue to his strong kisses. What am I doing?

His hands have started caressing me over the whole length of the slip, then down past the slip onto my thighs. He pulls the garter belt strap up and snaps it back down, causing me to cry out in surprise and pleasure.

He pulls away from my recently raped mouth and begins to kiss me down my chest, down my stomach, his hands caressing me the whole way. I don't want them to, but my legs slowly spread open wide as he does this, and finally his head is at my pelvis.

He pulls up the sheer fabric of my slip, and I gasp at the thought that now my panties are fully exposed to view. No one has ever seen me wearing panties like this before. Dave seems to like the view, as he gazes hungrily at my crotch. Pulling aside the thin fabric, he exposes my balls and bends his mouth down to kiss and lick between them.

It's like I was doing to myself earlier, only a hundred times better. I squirm and moan under the ministrations of his able lips and tongue on my pussy, and my feet—still wearing my sexy high heel shoes—clench behind his back in a frenzied embrace.

His tongue caresses my pussy, and his hands caress my stocking-clad legs, lingering at the edges of my panties, moving up over my slip to my breasts. His hands cup the breasts, while his fingertips caress my real nipples through the two layers of thin, soft fabric. Embarrassed at my reckless abandon, but unable to stop, I arch my back and moan in pleasure.

Pulling the thin straps down over my shoulders, exposing my breasts, his hands gently rub the sides and bottom as I moan in pleasure. Then he grips both breasts firmly as his fingertips slide under my bra to tickle my real nipples underneath. If I thought what he was doing before was amazing, this made me almost cum right there.

Then Dave breaks off, pulling my panties back into place over my balls. I'm disappointed briefly, until I notice that he's hard again and says, "On your hands and knees, wench! I'm gonna shove my cock so far up your ass you're gonna taste it in the back of your throat."

He says it like a threat, but in my frenzied state I gladly comply. I'm now staring at the headboard with Dave behind me. Again he pulls up my slip, and I gasp in surprise as he pulls my panties down just below my ass. I've never been so vulnerable in my life.

"Wait!", my mind screams, "you're about to get Fucked In The Ass!"

Then Dave's hands are on my hips and I can feel the tip of his cock resting against my anus. It's all slimy—is that his pre-cum or did he lube up? I don't have time to contemplate it as he shoves forcefully and I cry out in pain as his cock goes into me about an inch. My sphincter tightens involuntarily and forces him back out. But not for long. He pushes again and this time the pain is worse and he's in about halfway up his shaft.

He moans in pleasure and begins slow, steady thrusts. "God, you're one tight little wench", he grunts as his pubic hair bumps up against my ass.

Moving slowly at first, Dave pulls back about an inch, then slams his cock all the way in again. Then out a little more, and in all the way again. Slowly but surely Dave increases his thrusts until he's actually exiting my ass and penetrating me again every time.

"You like this, don't you?", he taunts. "God help me, yes!", I think, but all my mouth can do is give a little yelp as his cock slams hard and deep into my ass and his balls swing forward and slap into mine.

Now the pain is receding and I can feel the sensation of his cock stimulating my prostate. My sphincter relaxes and to my great surprise I find that it's making my cock rock hard again. Moaning in pleasure, I begin to push back against his thrusts as he thrusts forward. His cock goes in me farther than ever and I can feel his balls hitting me as he grips my hips over my garter belt straps and starts banging away with abandon.

As Dave slams my ass harder and harder, impaling me on his cock over and over again, my own cock is rubbing against the soft fabric of my slip and panties. My breasts, pulled down by gravity, hang low enough in my bra that they are brushing against my nipples with each vigorous thrust. The nylon stocking material covering them is making my nipples tingle.

Dave, having already orgasmed once, is certainly going to last longer this time. He pumps his cock into my ass again and again and again, and his hands explore my stockings, my waist, my swinging tits, my hips, my pubic hair. He slaps my ass, and plays with the straps holding up my stockings. Sometimes he just rests his hands on the satin fabric on my back, and even that is sensual and exciting.

Then he grips my hips strongly and pulls me to him with each thrust, sending his cock deep inside me until I feel his pubic hair on my ass and his balls swing forward and hit mine. Do I like that feeling? Oh, yes, I do. I match his thrusts forward with my own thrusts backward, and Dave is excited by my excitement.

I hear Dave grunting and I know the end is near and my nipples are rock hard and his balls slam against me and his cock just fills me and...and...and...Uuunnnnggggghhhh I experience the most explosive orgasm I've ever had. Over and over my cock spurts cum into my panties as Dave moans and I feel my ass fill with his hot load. He keeps thrusting a few seconds longer, then shoves his cock in as far as it will go just to make sure every last drop goes inside me.

As he slides out of my ass, I succumb to exhaustion and fall to the bed asleep. I'm vaguely aware that he hasn't deleted that last picture, but at this point I don't care.

Hours later I awake to find myself soaked with cum (both his and mine), panties pulled down around my thighs (elastic stretched way out, I'll have to throw those away, oh well), cum leaking out of my sore and bruised asshole, and wonder what has become of me. It was interesting, yes, and even pleasurable, but now that it's over I'm glad. I've got my pride (what's left of it, anyway), and somehow being the cocksucking, assfucked slutty girlfriend for a casual acquaintance from work just doesn't fit in.

I stagger in to the bathroom to clean up. Dave has apparently found my lipstick and written something on the mirror:

THANKS ANNIE. HAD A GREAT TIME. SEE YOU TOMORROW - BE DRESSED AND READY AT 7 PM.

See you tomorrow? See you tomorrow??? Shit, shit, shit.

And what's worse? "DRESSED" is underlined. Twice.

by Anne Zvesteit

Part 3

So here I am, makeup in disarray, my lingerie and face covered in the dried cum of my office I.T. administrator. He raped my mouth and my ass last night, and I've got a date with him later today. God only knows what he has planned. But until I get that picture back from him, I have to play his game.

I'm late for work, so I jump in the shower for a quick soak under the scalding water, wondering where this is all going. I've been dressing in women's clothes all my life, but suddenly, within the last 24 hours, I've become a cocksucker ("You're a natural", he said) and a doggy-style assfucked slut ("You're not forgetting that amazing orgasm, are you?", my mind taunts me).

Out of the shower and cleaned off, I dress in 100% men's clothes for work today. I don't need any extra stress of being found out.

I've got to fight this. Surely there's laws to protect blackmail victims like me. Maybe I can bring him up on charges and have the evidence sealed by the court. I'll do some research online at lunch and check it out.

Luckily or by design, I don't see my blackmailing tormenter all day. Not that that's unusual, but considering what he did to me last night I've come to expect anything.

Not only do I not find anything helpful (it's as if laws were written by lawyers so that only lawyers can understand them), but as I'm sitting at the computer my e-mail pops up with a message. Subject: Our Date Tonight. Shit, shit, shit.

Annie,

Had a great time last night. Be ready tonight at 7 sharp. Wear a purse.

D.

A purse? I don't have one! Doesn't he fucking know that I'm a closet case? I don't have a fucking purse!

Until now I've bought all my girl clothes and accessories online. I've only ever been out as a woman once, and that was only in a hotel corridor. I can't be seen in the local mall buying a purse, for God's sake. It's Friday and the mall will be packed. Everyone who knows me knows I'm divorced and don't date. If I'm spotted shopping for a purse it will raise questions I don't really want asked. In any case, I need one by 7 tonight. What the hell am I going to do?

Think, Annie, think.

Think. Annie. Think "Annie".

That's it. The bastard is not content to turn me into a sex object. He wants me to go shopping as a woman. He wants to humiliate me more than completely. He wants me to go to the local mall and see someone I know. Maybe even him. He's probably waiting there now. The bastard.

All right, think. There's no time to drive to the next town, and even if I did I can't bring myself to shop for a purse as myself. And there's no way in hell I'm going to go down to the brightly lit, busy mall as Annie.

Think, Annie, think.

I've been practicing my makeup, my walk, my voice, my mannerisms for years now. It's time for the final test. But not the mall. Too dangerous. There's a secondhand thrift store on the way home. I've never been there, and I'm guessing none of my circle of acquaintances has either. Dave didn't say it had to be a Prada purse.

I've got to leave work a little early. There is much to do.

Rushing home, I jump in the shower for a quick leg shave. Luckily I'm not hairy chested, so legs is about all I have to worry about besides my face. Looking at my unkempt bush of pubic hair, I wonder briefly whether I should shave it into a nice, trimmed triangle. No, I'm not ready to make that jump. But I do shave my ass, inside the butt cheeks and out. I never knew my ass was so hairy.

Sighing, I put on my fleshtone bra and falsies. My legs don't see enough sun to be passable by themselves, so I'm going to have to wear hose. Jesus, 30 years of crossdressing and I don't have a single pair of pantyhose instead of stockings and garter belt. Once again my panties drawer fails to yield a single pair that's not sexy. Oh, well, this pair of green string bikini panties will do. God, they feel good caressing my ass.

I pick my least slutty skirt, a pleated A-line that drops to just below knee level, and a long-sleeved peasant blouse. I don't have any flats, but I do have some low heels that go with this outfit. This is one occasion I don't want to attract too much attention.

After applying my makeup, I admire myself in the full length mirror. Not bad, not bad. "It better be", my brain taunts me, "because you have to go out in public like this."

I don't have a purse (duh, that's why I'm going out like this) so I'm going to have to just hold my driver's license and cash in my hand for now. I get in my car, eternally grateful that I chose the tinted windows, and head down my driveway toward my certain doom. I'm more careful to obey all traffic laws now than I was on my driver's test. I've read the stories about what happens to transvestites if they get pulled over by the wrong cop.

As I'm driving to the thrift store I feel a freedom I've never imagined before. Mixed with abject fear, of course, but the feeling of my legs under my skirt, the different way a woman's shoe hits the accelerator, the way the seatbelt bisects my breasts, the way my hair flips when I check my blind spot before merging, it all makes me feel very...well, womanly. I'm almost smiling as I turn in to the thrift store parking lot.

Parking at the back of the building where no one will see me, I find that I can't leave the car. I'm too scared. The only other time I went out "dressed", I was seen by a guy. True, he didn't seem to know what I was as he looked me over from head to toe (twice!), and in fact I'm almost sure he was checking out my ass after he passed me. I check my makeup in the vanity mirror. Luckily it's okay since I didn't bring any in my nonexistent purse. Okay, you can do this, Annie. You can do this. Now go.

Checking that the parking lot is empty of other people, I get out of the car, lock it, and walk to the front door. You can do this, Annie.

It's a glass door, and as I'm reaching it there's a college student, a guy, coming out. Before I know what's happening, he's holding the door for me and I'm going to have to interact with him. Shit, shit, shit.

I glance up and catch his eyes briefly in thanks, then in my best female voice (here goes!) say "Thanks". Does he know? Is he gonna beat the crap out of me? Or worse, laugh?

"Sure", he says with a flirty smile, and somehow I can feel his eyes checking me out as I go in the store. I did it. I passed.

As I had hoped, it's nearly empty on a Friday night. A single young bohemian-looking guy is in the paperback section, probably looking for biographies of Chè Guevara among the tattered romance novels. Heading to the purse section, I find a couple dozen mostly ugly and out of fashion offerings waiting. But a couple look nice and I try them on for size. They're only 5 bucks each, so I get both. There's even some female style wallets nearby and I grab one of those that strikes my fancy. Hell, this is going so well I may even shop for a dress.

"Excuse me", says the bohemian guy as he taps me on the shoulder, and I just about jump out of my panties in surprise. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Can I get past you to the appliances section?"

"Sure", I mumble, moving out of his way. Okay, dress shopping can wait. I've got to get out of here.

The cashier is a young girl, probably still in high school by the looks of her. She rings up my merchandise and says, "That'll be $15.50, ma'am". She gives me a smile that wordlessly says "I know, and it's okay".

Shoving a twenty at her, I say "Keep the change" and gather up my bags. She looks at me and says, "Thanks. Come back anytime. We have several girls like you who shop here."

Girls like me? I manage to stumble out the door as my mind races. Girls like me? Girls like me? Then it hits me. Of course! It's the perfect shop for Girls Like Me. Cheap, lots of clothes to choose from, including lingerie, shoes, and purses, and anyone in my circle of friends wouldn't shop here in a million years. I wonder how many Girls Like Me there are, but I'm sure as hell not going back in to ask.

Reaching my car, I buckle in quickly and leave the parking lot as soon as I can. The relief is palpable that I've been shopping as a woman without dying of embarrassment.

However, it's not long before traffic slows to a crawl. What's going on? Oh, shit, it's a police sobriety checkpoint. At 6:30 PM? What the hell? I've got to get home. As I get closer I see I have a different problem. They're taking cars at random for sobriety checks. Please, please, please, please, please don't pick me.

I'm lucky. As I get to the front of the line, the officer waves me through. He takes a close look at me as I pass, but I don't know whether he thinks I may be drunk, or he spotted me as a crossdresser, or if he just thinks I'm hot. At this point, I don't care. I've got 5 minutes to get home.

Racing in breathlessly at 6:59, I half expect Dave to be waiting for me. But he's not. He's too smart to be caught breaking and entering. Moments later, however, the doorbell rings. It's Dave, come to keep our date. Shit, shit, shit.

"Hiya, doll", he says effortlessly as he breezes in the living room. "You look nice. Ready to go?"

"Go?", I ask. "You didn't mention anything about going anywhere!"

"Why do you think you'd need a purse?", he asks. He glances over to the coffee table where my recent purchases lay. "Is this it? It's pretty. Let's get going, Annie. You're going to be serving drinks for my poker buddies tonight."

"No way, Dave. Now you've gone too far. If you think you're going to embarrass me in front of all your friends for the whole evening, you're delusional."

"Aww, that's too bad, Annie." He seems genuinely disappointed. "I had hoped to avoid embarrassing you in front of all your colleagues and clients. Besides, dressed like this I don't think anyone will know the truth."

"I...I...I...", I stutter, astounded at Dave's shocking lack of judgement. "I can't pass in front of your friends all evening!", I charge.

"You went shopping this evening, didn't you? In full daylight? Did you meet anyone?", he asks.

"That's different, Dave. I only said 5 words to anyone."

"And that's more than you'll have to say tonight. Plus, it'll be dark and you'll mostly stay in the kitchen." Once again he flashes the grin that he thinks is so charming, and he's right about that.

"It's nobody from work, right? Because if there is, I will seriously go murder-suicide on your ass. Don't shit me, Dave, this is my life you're fucking with."

"Nobody from work. I work there too, you know", he assures me. "Besides, I'm not that mean."

Yeah, just mean enough to rape my mouth and then my ass last night, and blackmail me into liking it. Okay, maybe the blackmail wasn't the reason I liked it, but I'm going to have to think about that some other time.

"You're a fucking bastard, Dave", I mutter to him as I gather my new purse. "Give me a minute to get some makeup and jewelry."

The purse is big enough to fit all my makeup, plus wallet and cell phone. I reapply my lipstick before closing up the purse, but other than that I'm still looking good. I add some dangly clip-on earrings to draw attention away from...well, everything else and return to the living room to find Dave waiting for me. At the last minute I trade my one-inch heels for one-and-a-half inch heels that are prettier. Taller heels, for some reason, force you to walk like a girl. I'm going to need all my tricks tonight if I'm going to pass for several hours in front of a bunch of guys.

Wordlessly we go out to his car, which to my chagrin turns out to be a Kawasaki motorcyle. It looks fast. Oh, this just gets better and better.

Dave climbs on and beckons to me to sit behind him. I can see the headline now: "Motorcycle accident claims two lives: one man, and one girly-fag wearing frilly lingerie". Guess which one is me.

"Come on, it's only ten minutes away", he says. I climb on, determined to use the handholds behind the seat rather than hugging Dave. Thirty seconds into the ride, however, I'm holding on to Dave so tight I can feel my breasts boring holes into his back. Ten minutes at these speeds could take us to the next county. Plus I can feel and see my skirt blowing back up my thighs, exposing my stockings up to the garter straps. A couple of cars honk their approval until I tuck the skirt between me and the chassis.

His apartment is nondescript but clean. He must be a trust fund child, though, because he's got every kind of expensive electronic device ever invented. Whatever buddies are scheduled as my personal hell tonight have not yet appeared. Dave pulls me into the kitchen and tells me the score. Apparently I'm his new girlfriend, and I lost a bet and have agreed to be his serving wench for the evening. Whenever anyone yells "beer wench" or "snacks" or anything similarly obnoxious, I'm to breeze in with the requested item and then leave. I'm not to speak unless Dave gives me the signal. At least I don't have to worry about my voice giving me away.

Soon the buddies arrive, pretty much all at once. I'm introduced to Steve, a thin white blonde in jeans and Nirvana t-shirt, Raj, an Indian with stylish glasses and dark hair, and Ty, a largish black guy in cargo shorts and an oversized jersey. They all give me a good looking over, and seem friendly enough. They seem to know the score, and don't expect me to do more than nod in hello. That's good. And there's been no pointing and laughing. That's better. Nor any beating-to-a-bloody-pulp. Best.

They're immediately laughing and joking among themselves, and it's not long before the "beer wench" calls come. The game room is dark except for the overhead lamp, which suits me fine as I bring them beer and snacks from the kitchen, then retreat for a few minutes between calls. At first I listen at the doorway to see if anyone mentions that, well, did you know, Dave, your "girlfriend" is a guy? But it's just poker and football talk, and I escape back to the kitchen open a beer for myself.

One hour and four beers later, I realize that in my anxiety I forgot to eat dinner and I'm rapidly getting sloppy drunk. Last time I delivered a beer to Steve I found myself flouncing out of the room to catcalls and hoots from the whole table. Get a hold of yourself, girl, before they start getting a hold of you!

After a couple hours, Steve is tapped out and leaves the game. He pops his head in the kitchen and tells me thanks, he had a great time, and I've been a really good sport. I smile and wave a goodbye to him. One down, three to go.

Another half hour, left mostly to myself in the kitchen (it must be getting serious in there), and Raj pops in to say goodbye. And then there were two.

The calls for beer and snacks have subsided, so I'm left alone for another twenty minutes until the silence is broken by Dave loudly groaning and Ty whooping in triumph. I wonder if I should go check on them, but reason that it's better to minimize my chances of Ty noticing what I really am. After a few minutes, Dave comes into the kitchen.

"Game's over, Annie."

"You lost?"

"Yup."

"Too bad. So I can go home now, right?"

"Sure, just as soon as you do a little tonsil-dance on my cock, baby."

Sigh. I briefly ponder the idea of arguing, but after what I did last night to Dave I'm not really in a position to be virginal about it. I might as well get it over with.

This time, I take his hand and lead him back to the bedroom. As we pass the poker table, I notice that Ty has forgotten to take his money with him. If he's that drunk, I hope he got a cab.

In the bedroom, Dave stands at the foot of his bed. He seems to like me on my knees in front of him, and on the theory that whatever gets him off sooner gets me home sooner, I teasingly take off my blouse and skirt. He responds with a grin and a visible rise in his crotch.

Pulling his pants down as before, I see he's already semi-hard from the sight of me in panties, bra, garter belt and stockings. I waste no time in taking his cock slowly into my mouth. I've done this before, so I know what he likes and what he doesn't. Before he's fully hard and too large to fit, I take him all the way in my mouth and slowly pull back, sucking and swirling my tongue as I go. The way Dave is moaning, he's gonna come in about 30 seconds.

I'm getting into it too, feeling pride ("in your cocksucking abilities!", my brain taunts me) and feeling my own cock start to stiffen in my panties. I can feel Dave's hands, larger than I remember them from before, caress my hair, down to my shoulders and then on to caress my breasts. It feels wonderful, but I'm concentrating so much on Dave's cock that it doesn't occur to me that Dave can't reach my breasts in this position.

So if it's not Dave's hands, then whose hands are cupping my breasts? But it's too late to find out. Dave spasms and grabs my head, forcing my mouth over his cock as it stiffens and shoots his cum at the back of my throat. Once again, my efforts to escape only heighten his sensations. It feels like he shot a shot-glass full of cum into my mouth.

At the same time I feel a long, hard object pressing upward on the bottom of my panties. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Disengaging myself from Dave's cock, I spin back to see Ty standing behind me. He's naked. He's erect. And from the looks of it, he's got at least three inches on Dave's average size organ.

"Man, Dave, that was awesome", he crows. "Best porn I ever rented. Will she do me that way?"

My indignant reaction is delayed by the giant glob of cum in my mouth, which I swallow with some difficulty.

"No! What the hell, Dave? I thought he went home. What am I, your personal whore to rent out to whatever...wait a minute." Turning to Ty, "Did you say 'she'?" Ty couldn't have missed the giant boner sticking out of my panties, and with most of my clothes off it's pretty obvious I'm not a real girl. But he called me "she".

"Yeah, baby. I knew all along. It's cool, baby. Hey, if you don't wanna do anything, that's okay. But damn, you make one gorgeous babe, and it looked like you really know how to suck a cock."

"It's only her second time", brags Dave.

"No shit?", replies Ty.

I realize that the situation is completely out of control. I'm sitting on the floor, wearing sexy lingerie, makeup and a wig, with a tummy full of cum. And I'm staring at Ty's enormous cock.

I know, I know, it's a cliche. I'm not gonna change what happened to make it more racially sensitive. He had a huge cock. Not John Holmes big, but big enough that he sticks out in a crowd. Sticks out in a crowd. In spite of everything that just happened, I laugh to myself at that mental image.

And as Dave and Ty discuss my cocksucking skills, it seems like they just ignore me, laying on the floor in my underwear. And I start wondering how much of Ty's cock I could fit in my mouth. A third? Maybe a half, if I push it to the gagging point.

He's not hard yet. If I'm going to get it all in, now's my chance.

Silently I crawl on the floor over to Ty. They both notice and stop their animated discussion. Kneeling on the floor in front of Ty, I look up into his eyes.

"Oh, baby", he croons.

And that's all the encouragement I need. I take his cock with my hand and feed it past my lips. Immediately I push my mouth all the way toward his pubic hairs, but I'm already too late. He's hardening in my mouth, and I stop about an inch from the end, unable to take any more. I can feel him growing in girth, and soon my mouth is literally full of cock, and I have my answer. Half.

Taking the other half in my hand, I start sucking with my mouth and pumping with my hand. I can already taste Ty's pre-cum, and he's making noises like Dave did.

Pretty soon my knees start hurting from the hard floor, though, and I motion for Ty to kneel on the bed. I follow him, crawling on all fours to resume sucking the biggest cock I've ever seen in real life. It fills my world with its thick, veiny power. It waits to send its payload deep into me, and I am powerless to resist it.

Soon I feel motion at the other end of the bed, and my panties are pulled aside to expose my asshole. Dave is hard again, fully lubed, and probing against my tight sphincter.

My gasp of pleasure as Dave pushes his cock into my ass is muted by Ty's cock in my mouth. But I think they both heard it. Now they're both working me over, Ty from the front and Dave from the back.

My mouth is getting sore, and Dave's second orgasm hasn't come yet, so at some secret sign they send each other, they switch places. Flipping me over on my back, Ty pulls off my panties, leaving me only in garter belt, stockings, and bra. My God, he's strong! Putting my high-heel clad feet on his shoulders, he raises my ass off the bed and exposes it for his hard, hungry cock.

I don't know what I expected when Ty shoved his cock deep inside me, but I did my best to relax my sphincter. Even so, it felt like my muscles were ripping apart as he pushed his cock deep inside me. It took ten thrusts before he was in far enough to not be pushed back by my still-tender sphincter muscles.

Meanwhile, Dave is jacking off with his cock just inches from my face. I've seen this in dozens of porno movies, but I never imagined I'd be the girl.

As Ty pumps my ass with his telephone pole of a cock, I eagerly take Dave's cock in my mouth again. He's stroking the bottom as I suck the tip, and Ty spreads my legs wide as he pushes his cock all the way in. His balls are huge as they press against my ass, and I'm not sure but I think he's halfway up my small intestine. I caress Dave's dangling balls with one hand, while with the other I rub my own patch of pubic hair.

Ty begins pumping in earnest, and my own cock responds to the stimulation of my prostate. Then Ty grips my thighs tightly as he rams harder and harder and harder, groaning in pleasure as I feel his cum coat the inside of my ass. He pumps a few more times for good measure, and stays inside of me.

Dave moves his head down so we're in 69 position, and we suck each other's cocks greedily. It's only a few more moments until we both come into each other's mouth.

After a few moments of enjoying the afterglow, Ty pulls out with an audible "plop". Despite ourselves, we all laugh. My ass hurts like hell, though.

"Okay, beer wench, get your clothes on. You're going home.", says Dave.

That's fine with me. I'm tired, and I need to sort some things out. I've done a lot of strange things in the last 48 hours.

Dave and Ty leave the room as I get dressed and reapply makeup. It doesn't have to be great, just enough to last the motorcycle ride home. Luckily (I suppose) all the sticky cum went inside my mouth or my ass, so there's no mess in my hair. A quick brushing gets it back in shape. Wigs are made to be low maintenance.

Ready to go, Dave opens the door and I exit ahead of him. He says, "Thanks, and good luck."

I'm wondering what he meant by "good luck" when I hear the door close and lock behind me.

"You bastard!", I yell as I pound the door, but I know he's not coming back out. The more noise I make, the more attention I draw to myself. Shit, shit, shit.

"Dave, you're a fucking bastard", I mutter. At least I have my cell phone. We're a big enough city that taxis are available 24 hours. You just might have to wait a while. I call a taxi to meet me, giving a description of myself (I leave out the part about cum dripping out of my distended asshole into my panties), and look for a place to wait the 10 minutes until it gets here.

I can't just stand on the corner, unless I want to meet the vice squad up close and personal. I don't know if hookers ply this part of town, but I'm not going to be mistaken for the first. I decide to wait on the steps to the manager's office.

Shortly the taxi arrives, and I climb wearily in the back. I give the driver my address and slump in the seat.

"Long night, eh?", he inquires.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you..."

Annie Gets Blackmailed

by Anne Zvesteit

Part 4

I thought it was all over after being forced to be the "beer wench" for Dave and his poker buddies. Dave and his friend Ty had their way with me, then cast me out into the night to find my own way home. Fine. It's finally over. I can go back to being a closet transvestite.

Then, bright and early Monday at work, I get a package via intraoffice mail. There's no return department listed, and it's about the size of a large chocolate Easter bunny. Ripping open the envelope, I find that it's not a chocolate Easter bunny. Unless they're making Easter bunnies out of latex in the shape of a man's sexual organs, that is.

There's a note, written in untraceable block letter writing:

Practice, practice, practice. You'd better put in some DEEP practice for the show you're putting on Friday night. Take care of your THROAT.

Shit, shit, shit. So it's not over. Dave can still cut my career off at the knees and make me a laughingstock with a single e-mail. He's got me by the short-and-curlies, and apparently I'm going to be kissing his short-and-curlies if I want him to keep quiet.

I'd never even touched another man's cock before last Thursday. Last weekend I learned that I'm a natural born cocksucker and I'm willing to take it up the ass. But deep throating? That's a whole different ballgame. And what's this about a show?

I remember how Ty paid Dave to watch me suck Dave's cock, and how afterwards I fucked them both silly. God, what's become of me? Am I still doing this because I'm being blackmailed? Or because I like it?

In any case, I can't very well leave a 7" flesh-colored latex dildo (with realistic balls, nice touch, Dave) lying on my desk. I take it out to my car and put it in the trunk where no one can find it. I'll think about what to do with it later.

Okay, it's later and I'm driving home and wondering how I can get out of this. How low will I debase myself before it's too much? How big is my audience going to be? Will any of them be as big as Ty? Cause his cock was just enormou...shut up, shut up, shut up!

I want...no, I need those pictures back. Dave may be calculating and sly, but so far he hasn't lied to me. I'll do his stupid little show if that's the end of it. Otherwise, I'll just have to kill him. I'm not sure yet if I'm serious about that last part. If I'm going to lose my career, he's going to pay too. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

So I practice. The urge to gag is strong. You have to take it little by little. After an hour I was able to keep the dildo in for 3 seconds. Long enough to take a digital picture.

I set up the camera to just get my mouth and the dildo. Nothing that will identify me if it gets out. Set the timer and...gag,gag,gag,gag,FLASH! Spit the dildo out and check the picture.

It came out all right. I create a throwaway e-mail account, go down to a WiFi-enabled coffee shop and send my picture to Dave's work e-dress with this message:

Agreed. But this is the end. If you cross me, YOUr hold over me WILL end. I am BEing DEADly serious.

I'm taking a chance threatening him with murder, but between the coffee shop and the throwaway e-mail, I'm pretty anonymous. Dave, however, will know that two can play this game.

Almost immediately, I get a response from a similar throwaway account:

Agreed. Do a good show Friday and I will leave you alone.

So that's that. I've got to go home. I've got some practicing to do.

The gag reflex is surprisingly resilient. You can shove a dildo down your throat all night, and it still makes you want to gag. But with perseverance you can overcome it. By midnight I was able to keep it in for 10 seconds.

The next night I worked on thrusts. Dave will want to fuck my mouth like he did last weekend, and I'll be damned if I'll let him control my reaction to it. I'm in control this time, and I'm going to deep throat his cock until he begs for mercy.

Wednesday, a different position. Lying on the bed, head hanging off the edge. It has the advantage, I find, that it makes a pretty straight shot down the throat, with the disadvantage that you get testicles resting on your eyes. Or maybe that's a benefit. I've now mastered the art of breathing on the out stroke, holding my breath on the in.

Thursday, I give my sore and battered throat a rest. The dildo looks lonely, though, so I take off my panties and let it explore my ass. It finds my prostate and stimulates it, again and again and again, and my orgasm shoots almost three feet in the air.

Friday night. Last time he showed up at 7:00, and I assume tonight will be the same. I start with a long, hot shower and full body shave. I make sure to shave my ass as well, as it's likely Dave will be sticking his cock back there. Gazing at my bushy pubes, I have a sudden desire to clean them up. So I shave them into a nice, trim triangle. Except for the penis and testicles, it looks a lot like a pussy.

What to wear? I'm putting on a show, apparently, so I'll want to dress in my best. I have a matching bra/garter/panty set in Prostitute Red, with red nylon stockings to match. Add a red satin slip to complete the lingerie portion. Then a flouncy red dress, mid-thigh height (just enough to cover the garter straps, unless I want to show them) and low cut enough to give a glimpse of the lacy trim on my slip. As for shoes, it's time to break out the 2-1/2" Fuck Me pumps I've been waiting for a special occasion to wear. If this isn't a special occasion, I don't know what is.

Next, the wig and makeup. A few finishing touches with clip-on earrings and bracelets for ankles and wrists, and the woman staring back at me from the mirror is one hot, sexy piece of ass. Dave wants a show, he's gonna get a fucking show. I spank myself on the ass to prove it.

I think my panties are already riding up my ass. God, I love that.

It's almost seven, so I gather up my makeup, driver's license and cash into my clutch purse. And I wait.

But not for long. Promptly at 7:00 the doorbell rings. It's not Dave, it's Ty.

"Dave couldn't be here", he explains, "so he sent me to pick you up. Are you ready?"

My arrogance withers. Considering that just last week I had this guy's enormous cock shoved deep in my mouth and then in my ass, I think I did pretty well to blankly nod yes. We go out to Ty's car, which thankfully is actually a car rather than a two-wheeled death machine like Dave's.

We drive in silence for a while, then Ty glances at me and says, "Hey, uh, I'm sorry about kicking you out last Friday. I didn't know Dave was gonna do that."

"I made it home okay, Ty. I'm a big girl.", I answer. I'm still kinda pissed that Ty let it happen, but mostly at Dave.

"You look fine tonight", Ty says. The way he says "fine" makes me blush. "Thanks", I reply.

Am I ashamed that while he drove, I stole glances at Ty's crotch? Yes, I am. Did he notice me doing so? Yes, he did.

We drive on in silence until we get to a nondescript house in a quiet neighborhood. This is it? I guess I was half expecting a strip club or something, but I guess they're all busy now, aren't they?

Ty opens my door and holds my hand as I swing my stockinged legs out of the car. There's a skill there that you have to learn, how to get in and out of a car without showing your panties. I'm learning.

Tyleads me to the back door, then into a back bedroom to get ready. There's a girl in the bathroom putting on makeup. So it's gonna be a lesbian show, huh? Well, that'll be a change from my recent activities, which mostly seem to involve genitalia of the male type.

Ty explains the score to me. The crowd is waiting in the living room. It's about 10 guys, and they're all so-called "Admirers" of cross-gender girls, so there's no chance of a mass assault by an angry mob. Well, not much anyway. They're paying to see me and the girl (whose name is Dana apparently) have sex on stage. They're likely to tip, and tip well, if they like what they see. After the stage show ends, by prearranged signal they can ask one or both of the girls for special "favors", for which they will pay handsomely. Ty gets a small cut for being the bodyguard and making sure things don't get out of hand. He hands me an envelope. Inside is a small stack of $100 dollar bills that he says is my cut from the entrance fee. If I put on a good show, he explains, and get requests for afterward, I can make up to $500 or more per guy.

I'm shocked. Between the entrance fee and a couple guys afterwards, I can make more money in a couple hours than in a whole week at my job.

Dana appears from the bathroom. She's hot. Tall and leggy, wearing a sexy dress that gives tantalizing hints of gorgeous lingerie underneath, I think to myself that I'd gladly give my envelope of $100's to fuck her. Instead I'm being paid to do it. There's something familiar about her, though. She's not a business client, is she?

"Hiya, doll. Welcome to showbiz!", she says with a fetching smile.

Wait, I know that smile. "Dave? Is that you?", I ask incredulously.

"Yes, but tonight, dear, it's Dana. Are you ready to put on a show?"

I should have known it would come to this. "I'm ready, Dana. Let's go put on a show!"

Annie Gets Blackmailed

by Anne Zvesteit

Part 5

How did I get into this? Just over a week ago I was a happily closeted nights-and-weekends transvestite who never left the house en femme, as they say. Then, in the space of just seven days, I found out that A) I'm a natural born cocksucker, B) I've taken two different cocks deep into my previously virgin ass, C) it may have started as blackmail but there's no way to deny that I liked it, and D) I'm about to put on a stage show in front of a bunch of so-called Admirers. God, I've become a whore!

No, wait. I may have enjoyed it at the time, but my primary motivation is to get the pictures Dave has. A casual acquaintance at work, he is my tormentor, my blackmailer, my first cock, and now, my show partner.

If I hadn't met him until tonight, I'd think he was a smokin' hot babe. Originally I only knew him peripherally as my office I.T. administrator. What a surprise when I got backstage to find him putting on makeup in the bathroom and emerging as Dana.

Okay, blackmail and career jeopardy and abject humiliation and stage fright enough to kill an elephant aside, I'm actually looking forward to this a little. I can make a little money from this and buy Dave's silence once and for all. And the orgasms, oh my God, they were...stop! Stop thinking that! You're here to pay off your blackmail debt, Annie, and that's all!

So Dave—no, it's Dana tonight—Dana and I part the curtain from the hallway into the suburban living room where my final humiliation will take place. Dana is gorgeous in her white evening gown, diaphanous enough to tantalize with hints of sexy black bra, garter belt, and...is that the hint of string bikini panties?...I guess I'll find out soon enough. Dana has a swimmer's build, tall and thin (and with a legitimate reason to shave her legs, I realize with a start).

I'm not so stunning as she, but my own lingerie rubs and caresses me in all the right places, and with my 2-1/2" Fuck Me pumps that I wore for the first time today, that old silly song "Yellow Polka Dot Bikini", pops in my head unexpectedly, but with slightly different lyrics:

2…3…4…tell the people who's a whore...

They were a sexy, sleazy, pair of whore shoes

That she wore for the first time today

A sexy, sleazy, pair of whore shoes

"Fuck me silly" is all that they say

I never said I was particularly sane.

A voice on a microphone (it's Ty, I realize, the other guy who's shoved his cock into my mouth and ass recently) announces the start of the show. Then music takes over (Ravel's Bolero, I recognize it) and the audience politely applauds. It's the moment of truth.

Before I can think about how scared I am, Dana pulls me out onto the makeshift runway, nothing more than floorboards placed on the carpet. It's very dark, and I can just make out the audience, sitting around the end of the stage in a sunken living room from the 1970's. They collectively gasp at the two lovely ladies, and my confidence surges. I can do this. I can do this.

Dana and I strut the twenty feet to the end of the runway, swishing and sashaying and click-clacking on my absurdly high heels. If you've never been a runway model, even in the privacy of your own home, you're missing something. I feel glorious with my garter belt stretching and contracting against my thighs as it worked to hold up the silk hose that caress my legs and give a little kiss to each other with each step. My breasts bounce and jiggle in their satin prison, and my panties cup my ass a little tighter with every passing second.

By the time I reach the end of the runway, with Dana close behind, I'm in an ecstacy of womanliness, and I would gladly suck and fuck every last man in the room twice. They can tell, and their catcalls and whistles tell of their approval.

Then a spotlight came on and I'm completely blinded. "My God", I think, "I'm completely spotlighted and they can see everything. Do they still think I'm pretty?"

They do. The cheers and catcalls increase as Dana comes up behind me and puts her hands on my ankles. Running her hands lightly up my legs, I feel the electric shivers of an orgasm starting. No! Not so soon! I want it to last!

Dana's hands creep up my thighs, taking my dress and slip with them and briefly showing a glimpse of my garter belt and panties before letting them drop again and continuing up my torso. She lingers briefly (too briefly!) at my breasts, then pulls my hands around my back to where her crotch waited as she kissed my neck softly.

As my hands grope in vain for the panties covering Dana's rock hard erection, Dana whispers, "It's all part of the show", and I feel two thick bracelets click over my wrists.

I try to bring my hands out in front again to see what kind of gift Dana had bought for me, but they won't move. The realization hits me suddenly that it was not bracelets at all, but handcuffs. Where the hell was she hiding those?

Then the true realization hits me: I'm handcuffed and helpless, spotlighted on stage in front of a group of twisted perverts who've paid hundreds of dollars to see me on stage. There's no telling what they'll do to me.

They could rape me (although I was perfectly willing to take them all on a moment ago), or take pictures of me and all have their blackmailed slutty girlfriend on tap, or keep me here indefinitely as their fuck-and-suck maid, or....

"The defendant has been apprehended, your honor", Dana says loudly.

A voice from the back answers, "Then let the trial begin".

Oh, shit.

"I'm on trial? What the fuck for?", I demand. "Dave, this wasn't in the..."

"The defendant will be silent!", shouts the judge. Dave turns me around to face him and slaps me, hard, on the cheek. I fall to the ground in shock and despair, and with my dress up over my hip, displaying my panty-clad ass for all the audience to gape over.

I struggle to my knees and attempt to rise. It's not easy with both hands cuffed behind my back. I'm not beaten yet, although I change my attitude to a less angry tone.

"Look, Dave, I'm not sure I..."

Dave slaps me hard again, but this time I'm ready and stay on my feet. The judge intones, "The defendent will keep her mouth shut, or it will be filled with something that will keep her silent." I don't want to even think about what that might be.

The judge is now in full control. "The defendant will remain on her knees for the reading of the charges." There's no use fighting at this point, so I obey.

"The jury will rise for the reading of the charges."

The audience now rises from their chairs to form a circle around me. Like wolves slavering over a lamb, they sense my fear. Baring their wolf fangs for the kill, they remove their robes all at once. Underneath they're wearing every manner of S&M bondage gear you've ever seen. Cock rings, nipple clamps, and things I don't even know the names of. They're all wearing silken masks that hide their faces. Any one of them could be my boss, or my next door neighbor, and I wouldn't know.

My fear increases tenfold, and they grin at the sight of it. They're all sporting huge erections, some stroking them slowly, some just leering at me.

Dana produces a card from somewhere and reads, "The defendant, Anne Zvesteit, is charged with wanton sluttery unbecoming a lady, and loose morals to the detriment of society."

"You're one to talk about loose morals, asshole", I mutter under my breath. But not quietly enough. She heard me.

She pinches me on my real nipple, hard enough to cause me to cry out in pain. I'm vaguely aware of the jury murmuring its approval as Dana roughly shoves a dildo in my open mouth (where the hell did she hide that?) and straps it to my head. It's not such a long dildo that I can't breathe, but it's thick and fills my whole mouth. The fake testicles rest on my chin, reminding me that it's not just a carrot in my mouth.

"Yhhh ahhhohh, Ah hahha hihh hoo ho hiss", I sputter. It sounded a lot more intelligent in my mind.

"Anne Zvesteit", the judge intones, "you are accused of wanton sluttery and loose morals. Do you agree that you need to be punished?"

The thought of what these ten freaks would think is appropriate punishment scared the shit out of me. I shook my head "no" and pleaded to Dana with my eyes, hoping for one last chance to escape without permanent body damage.

"Then prosecutor", called the judge, "bring your first evidence."

Evidence? I realize that in my fear and panic I played right into their desires. Dave is going to show them the pictures he has. Probably give them all copies to take home and wank over, and maybe post all over town. This is my worst nightmare come to life. And I've still got a dildo strapped in my mouth.

"Exhibit A, your honor", says Dana, "is the way she's dressed. Look at her—she's got 'fuck me' written all over her."

Huh? I hadn't expected that.

The jury murmurs and the judge says, "What am I bid for the honor of showing exhibit A to the jury?"

Several of the freaks hold up cards with dollar amounts on them. Five dollars, ten dollars, 25 dollars. Fifty wins it, from a guy wearing only black leather straps. Even without seeing his face, I can tell he's drooling at the prospect.

So my punishment is to be sold to the highest bidder? God, how stupid I was. In my girlish naivitee I just accepted that they would throw down several hundred dollars each to see a live show of two crossdressers in action. You know, the kind of thing you can rent on DVD for a couple bucks? I was stupid and naive and now I'm going to pay the price.

Juror 6 (not able to see their faces, I'm numbering them from left to right) comes forward to expose Exhibit A: my clothing. Okay, I can deal with this. They might even take the handcuffs off so they can get the dress off me.

Then he produces a switchblade knife from somewhere in the leather straps he's wearing. Oh, shit, he's gonna kill me. It's a snuff film and they're going to kill me on camera and sell it to other perverts just as sick and twisted as they are.

I try to squirm away in panic, but two of the other jurors rush forward to grab me securely. On my knees, hands cuffed behind my back, and with a dildo strapped in my mouth, I'm pretty helpless and they hold me fast as Juror 6 advances with his gleaming knife. He's really enjoying my fear, and I wonder abstractly if he's going to cut off my head and keep it in the refrigerator after he kills me, Jeffrey Dahmer style.

With an evil grin he comes near me, knife blade gleaming in the harsh spotlight as I struggle in vain to escape. Taking the hem of my dress in hand, he slices it neatly all the way up to my cleavage, cutting only the dress with a skill that's impressive and disturbing at the same time.

I breathe a sigh of relief and relax until the Jurors holding my arms let them go and roughly rip the dress off my shoulders. The Jurors murmur their approval of my humiliation. Juror 6 neatly cuts the straps on my slip, letting it fall to the floor and leaving me in must my bra, panties, garter belt and stockings. All in bright Prostitute Red, of course.

I have to explain something about being forcefully exposed in your underwear. In many ways it's more intimate and terrible than being completely naked. If I were naked I could pretend to myself that I'm just a biological animal and this is my natural state. Being exposed in ultrasexy lingerie, with the tatters of my sleek dress hanging from my bound hands behind me, there's no escaping the fact that I'm a sexual target for these sick fucks. They can, and probably will, do anything they want to me, and I'm powerless to fight them. My nameless fear returns as the Jury collectively gasps at Exhibit A: Just Look At What She's Wearing. Score this one for the prosecution.

"The defendant is found guilty of loose morals and is sentenced to corporal punishment. What am I bid to administer fifty lashes on her soft, pink bottom?", asks the Judge.

Again the bid cards go up. Fifty, a hundred, then Juror #1 wins it for $150.

Fifty lashes! I almost choke on the dildo strapped in my mouth. I haven't been spanked since I was five, and I have no intention of...

I'm not able to finish my thought as Dana and Juror #2 grab me roughly to my feet as Juror #1 sits in a chair on stage. In my 2-1/2" heels I can barely walk, much less fight, and they throw me roughly face down onto Juror #1's lap. Arms bound behind me, panty-clad ass exposed and waiting for punishment, there's not much point in fighting it. I look back at my punisher as if to plead with him to go easy on my virgin ass.

In response he raises his hand and slaps my ass hard with his palm. The force of it sends my crotch rubbing against his leg, and despite myself I feel a thrill from the feel of my panties against his skin. The Jurors all shout "One!" as he strikes me, and I know that my ass will be red and sore from that spank alone.

"Two!" "Three!" "Four!" The punishment continues unabated until I'm crying like a little girl, choking back my sobs on the dildo still shoved deep in my mouth. "Forty Four!" "Forty Five" "Forty Six!" I can feel Juror #1's cock poking me in the tummy insistently. He's rock hard with excitement.

Finally the punishment ends with cheers from all the Jurors. I'm dumped like a sack of potatoes to the floor, and my ass is probably red enough to match my panties as I sob quietly to myself.

At least the trial is over. Convicted and punished, maybe I can go home now. I know one thing—I'm never having anything to do with these sick fucks again.

"Well administered, Juror 1", says the Judge. "Now, for the other charges."

Other charges? Shit, shit, shit.

Dana produces yet another card from God knows where on her svelte and sexy body. "The defendant is accused of being a natural born cocksucker and hiding her talent from the general populace", she announces.

Before a couple weeks ago I'd never even touched another man's genitals. After Dave, the I.T. admin from work, blackmailed me into giving him a blowjob, however, he announced that I was "born to it". Sadly for my defense, it was not the last blowjob I was to give, nor even the only man I'd given one to. And I'm guessing he won't be the last either, given the leering wolf pack surrounding me with cocks exposed and ready to go.

"Run the film, please", Dana says. Film? There's film? Shit, shit, shit. If Dave can get me to willingly go to a gang rape on stage with just a couple of still pictures, what can he get me to do with videotape? And where did he get it?

A projector starts up by remote control, displaying a grainy video of an empty bedroom on the blank wall behind Dana. It's my bedroom.

The door opens onscreen and into the bedroom walks Dave, holding the hand of a pretty girl with long brown hair. She's wearing a short sleeved dress that shows off her legs nicely, and looking very nervous. The girl is me.

On the screen the woman kneels down before him and drop his pants and underwear to the floor. By her reaction it's obvious that this is the first time she's ever done this.

The Jurors murmur their approval, and I'm powerless to do anything but watch as the girl onscreen hesitates briefly, then kisses the man's cock up and down. I cringe as I see the man pull out his camera and takes a picture just as she kisses the tip of his cock. God, I was so naive.

She's angry, he's smug. They argue, he wins. Then, her spirit broken, she saddles up and sucks his cock like the whore she is.

The Jurors cheer loudly as the virgin girl onscreen gives the guy onscreen a blowjob, at first hesitantly, then obviously getting into it. Most of them are stroking their cocks as they watch, and they cheer when the guy onscreen holds the girl's head roughly on his cock and shoots his load at the back of her throat. I can only watch numbly from the floor as my last shred of dignity is torn away. Crossdresser, cock sucker, and now...porn star. Mom would be so proud.

The video ends and the Judge speaks up. "The evidence is overwhelming, isn't it, Jurors?", he asks. They roar their assent. Hell, even I have to admit I'm guilty on this one.

"Then what am I bid to administer the punishment?", the Judge intones.

This time, they don't bother with the bid cards. "Fifty", says Juror 10. "One hundred", says Juror 9. Eventually they tap out at two hundred dollars. But what is the punishment?

The Jurors part ways to show a low, sturdy coffee table which was hidden behind them. It's got some sort of mattress or wrestling pad custom fit to match it, and a sheet covering it. Four of the Jurors lift me up bodily (Juror 7 takes the opportunity to caress my panty-clad ass—I "Mmph!" in protest, but he just leers) and deposit me on my back on the table, holding me there in case I tried to escape.

The winner, Juror 4, approaches me with a big grin and an even bigger erection. He gently removes the dildo strapped to my mouth, tossing it aside carelessly. I guess with 10 hard cocks around (eleven, if you count Dana) we're not going to need any dildos tonight. Despite myself, I'm grateful to him for removing it.

He motions to the Jurors holding me, and they move me so that my head hangs off the edge of the table. I can feel their hands holding on to my ankles and my belly, and I'm surprised at how sensual it is, even now, to have strong manly hands caressing my body.

"You know what's coming", says Juror 4. "Just be a good girl and I'll make it nice for you."

Okay, Annie. This is why Dave suggested you practice your deep throating skills. You can do this. You've even practiced this position.

I nod my head and open my mouth for his hard, hungry cock. It's a largish one, bigger than mine but not what you'd call huge by any means. He starts off just pushing the tip in and out as I lick and suck the most sensitive parts. He starts to get frantic, like he's gonna come before he ever shoves it home to the Promised Land. Opening my throat wide, I take his cock as he pushes it in all the way until his pubic hair hits my chin and his balls hang into my eyes. If I hadn't been practicing all week I would have barfed for sure. Gee, thanks, Dave.

With a muffled "Hnnnngghhhh" he comes down my throat, not allowing me to breathe as he spurts his creamy load down my throat. Luckily an orgasm takes only a few seconds, and I can hold my breath. One of the Jurors holding me notices I've got an erection and starts to caress my cock through my panties. The others murmur their approval at the show they've just watched as Juror 4 removes his balls from my eyes and slides his cock out of my mouth so I can breathe again.

They all crowd around now and rub their hands on my legs, my torso, my neck, my feet, my hips, my breasts, my panties, everywhere. The feeling is incredible as I come to the realization that they're all turned on by me. I'm in control, despite being handcuffed in lingerie and manhandled and forced to suck the cock of an anonymous masked stranger.

I allow myself to moan and writhe beneath them, and pick one of them, Juror 6 I think. "I want to suck your cock", I breathe to him in a sultry voice. Less than 2 seconds later he's in my mouth, groaning and grunting in pleasure. I continue to moan and writhe as he shoves his cock deep in my throat.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch of glimpse of Dana, on her knees, with three Jurors taking turns in her mouth as she strokes two others with her hands. God, she's beautiful.

Then the hands caressing me roll me over on my stomach. Juror 6 is nearing orgasm now and his cock spins in my mouth until I'm looking at his pubic hair instead of his balls. I can feel someone unlocking the handcuffs, but it doesn't matter because Juror 6 is orgasming with a high pitched squeal, shooting cum onto my tongue as I suck the tip of his cock hungrily. I swallow his cum and massage his balls with my newly freed hands, causing his orgasm to last a couple seconds longer.

Any semblance of order is gone, and one of the Jurors pulls me up by the hips until I'm on my hands and knees. I feel my panties being pulled down to my ankles as I eagerly take the next cock into my mouth. I'm getting too tired to do much in the way of a good quality blowjob (Jesus, now you're a fucking expert on giving head???), but it doesn't matter as the Juror pumps his cock in and out. Just as he's shooting his cum onto my tongue, I feel something pressing against my exposed anus and brace myself to be violated once again. I have no idea whose cock is in my ass, my mouth, or my hands, and I don't care. I want them all, desperately.

Just when my own cock screams for release, I'm flipped over by a beautiful girl in black lingerie (it's Dana!), who straddles me 69-style and begins to lick my balls as she would a woman's pussy. She's not wearing panties, and I guide her pussy down to my waiting mouth. It's not long before I have the unique experience of feeling my own ass penetrated by an unknown Juror as I watch a huge cock pushed forcefully into her ass, just inches from my face.

I'm close to release now, but by mutual unspoken agreement Dana and I do not take each other's cock until the Jurors fucking our tight, pretty asses are ready. The cock slamming home into Dana's ass is mesmerizing, even as I relish the pressure on my own prostate that Dana gets to watch.

Then both Jurors fucking us speed up their tempo and slam harder and harder and the scrotum is hitting me in the forehead with each pump and Dana takes my cock in her mouth and I take hers and the pleasure is indescribable and the Jurors climax, sending Dana over the edge. Her cock stiffening and spurting hot cum into my mouth sends me over the edge and oh, my God it seems to go on forever, spurting into Dana's mouth as I eagerly accept the same into mine, and waves of intense pleasure course through my whole body. My ex-wife once tried to explain what the female orgasm feels like, and now I think I know.

By some strange coincidence everyone is spent at about the same time. Or maybe they're just really good at this. I'm not the first girl they've violated, that's for sure. But I'm happy, deliriously happy, as I lay on the makeshift mattress enjoying the afterglow. I don't know what the hell I've become in the last two weeks, but I'm certain it's what I've wanted all my life without ever realizing it.

Before long, Ty appears with a change of clothes. It's a flouncy black floral skirt and red satin blouse. I never did take off my shoes. I reach up and give him a peck on the cheek in thanks, then get dressed as a few of Jurors murmur "Don't go" and "God, you're hot" and the like. I'm amazed to find that, after all that's transpired tonight I can still blush.

Ty has a cordless microphone in his hand, probably the one he used as Judge, but he doesn't use it when he announces, "The defendant is found guilty of being a hot piece of ass, isn't she gentlemen?"

The Jurors shout their approval, and Ty continues. "But there is one more charge levelled at the defendant. Let's see the evidence."

I'm crushed. I thought the ordeal was over with a happy ending. These assholes don't care for me. I'm just a plaything to be toyed with and thrown away to them. Hell, they'll probably fuck me again, then kill me and toss my body in the river. Whatever. I don't care any more.

The projector starts up again. The video is still grainy, but this time it's a different view of my house – my living room. How many spy cameras did Dave plant??? The stereo begins to pound out the sounds of a crowd cheering, then the opening chords of "Bad Boyfriend" by Garbage.

Oh. My. God.

And there I am, on screen, in lingerie and strutting up to the center of the screen with a stereo remote control in my hand like a microphone. The Jurors are elated by this unexpected bonus, and cheer loudly at my humiliation.

I watch, numb, as the music swells and onscreen, I begin to dance. It's not the studio version I was singing along with; I guess they found a live version of the song and spliced it in with the spy camera feed. It's not perfect but it's close.

As I watch myself dancing and strutting and vamping for my nonexistent audience, I'm struck by how good I look when I'm not self-conscious, as I am now. I wish I could be that girl on screen, full of confidence and charisma, instead of an embarrassed, ugly, sexual deviant being laughed at by a crowd of sexual deviants.

But wait. They're not laughing so much as they are cheering. They're not making fun of me, they like my performance for what it is – a sexy, confident rock and roll babe with the audience in the palm of her hand.

Dana sidles up and holds my hand. She's got the microphone in her other hand. As the video nears its end, she whispers in my ear. "Wanna know the secret to show business? Always leave them wanting more."

Always leave them wanting more. Hmmm.

As the song ends and the recorded audience cheers, the Jurors surround me, hugging me and telling me how great I was, how sexy I looked, what a show!

The audience applause returns to the speakers, but slightly different. A different song is starting. I can't quite place it yet. Dana announces to the crowd, "The defendant, Annie Zvesteit, is hereby accused of being a hot babe, a man eater, a siren, a temptress, a femme fatale, a…"

Now I recognize the song. It's one of Garbage's biggest hits. Dana and I say it together: "…Supervixen".

I take the microphone from Dana's hand and strut to center stage. The Jurors, down in the sunken living room, roar their approval.

Always leave them wanting more.

*********************************************
© 2006 by Anne Zvesteit. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.