Blackmail Ch. 2

1:23am.

The lights were out, the family asleep. When the phone rang, Susan reached for it sleepily. "Hello?"

"Hello Susan. It's Matt," purred the soft voice in her ear.

Instantly awake, heart pounding, she scrambled out of bed and took the phone with her out into the hall. He kept talking.

"I've been thinking about the other day," he murmured in her ear. She pulled the door closed without latching it, behind her.

"What the hell are you thinking?! Calling at this hour?" she hissed into the phone.

"I was thinking you should come over to please me." Behind her she could hear her husband, Jim moving in the bed.

"Now?!? Are you mad?" She cracked the door and peeked into the bedroom to check on him.

"Susan? Who is it?" Jim's sleepy voice called. She didn't think he was really awake, but she answered him.

"It's nothing hon, just a wrong number. Go back to sleep."

The voice in her ear laughed. "Susan, I'm not crazy. Just horny. I keep seeing you naked body. Hearing the sounds of your pleasure."

Jim rolled over in the bed. "Okay dear." She closed the door again.

"Look," she whispered into the phone again, "I can't. There's no way."

"I'm sorry to hear that." A pause. Then she heard a deep breath as her heart thudded in her chest, her ears. "Can I speak to Jim? Or should I talk with him in the morning?"

She sagged against the wall. "No," she sighed. Internally she was kicking herself. "I'll be over soon."

"Susan..."

"Yes?"

"I want you to wear something slutty. I'll be waiting."

"I don't have anything slutty." She opened the door a crack again, looking in.

"Nothing you wear for Jim? A little outfit, perhaps?"

"I told you before. He's not into any of that stuff."

"Well you'll have to figure something out, won't you?" he asked with an evil chuckle. "I want my slut to look the part."

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath. He laughed again.

"See you soon." Click.

She hung up, closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. Tried to still her pounding heart.

The phone rang again, and she nearly dropped it.

"What?!" she hissed at him. "You want him awake, don't you!"

"You may want to tell him something, in case he wakes up. This may take a while."

"I haven't got a clue what to say."

Jim stirred again in the bedroom. "Honey?"

Hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in her voice, she she called softly into him, "It's okay love, really. Go back to sleep."

"Surely you have a friend how needs your help. You'll think of something." Matt hung up again.

Susan hit the "off" button on the phone and headed back into the bedroom, thinking furiously. She put the phone back into its cradle and sat down on the bed.

"Who was that?" he asked sleepily. She stroked his hair, and he shifted over to her, laying his head against her leg. "I love you, you know that?" He draped his arm around her.

"It's Jane, from down the street. Her baby's sick, she's not sure if she needs to take him to the hospital, and her husband's out of town. She asked me if I could help, and if need be, stay there with the older kids." A lump rose in her throat. "And I love you too."

She bent to kiss him, and then got up. Opening the bottom dresser drawer, she started to pull clothes out, knowing that Jim wouldn't suspect what she was looking for.

"You're such a good friend to her. You know they've been having problems... I've been talking with her husband about it." He yawned.

"Yes," she responded, distracted. "She told me."

"Stay as long as you need to, my love." He rolled back over and was shortly snoring softly again.

She dug deeper in the drawer until her fingers found - there. Pulling the garment out, she looked at it in the dim light from the night light in the hall. A black bustier, given to her almost ten years ago as a bridal shower gift, worn only twice. Jim had liked it well enough, but wasn't too interested. So she had buried it away in the dresser, and had nearly forgotten it was there. Why she hadn't thrown it away when they'd moved, she didn't know.

Finding the accessories that went with it took a little more doing. But she gathered everything together, along with a simple dress out of the closet, and went to the bathroom to change. She pulled off her robe and nightgown, then dressed quickly. She'd forgotten to bring the phone in with her, and didn't want to risk Matt calling back if she took too long.

The bustier fit a little differently now, but that was understandable, it had been nearly a decade after all. And she'd had a baby. But it did still fit. Over this she pulled the loose dress, buttoned down the front.

She went down the hall, she had reached the steps when she heard a soft, "Mommy?"

Susan turned and went to her daughter's room. "Go back to sleep sweetheart," she said, giving the eight year old a hug and a kiss. Lindsay was asleep again almost immediately, as children do, and never felt her mother's tears on her cheek.

With a heavy sigh, she left the house after pulling on a light jacket. She walked through the dead leaves in the yard, trying not to make too much noise, grateful that Matt's back porch light wasn't on.

She knocked on the door. He opened it, dressed in a worn bathrobe, a glass of red wine in his hand.

"You took your time, I'm not happy about that."

"I had to think of something to tell him, didn't I?"

He just snorted at that. "Not my problem. Would you like some wine?" Still standing in the doorway, he offered her his wine glass.

"No."

"It's Merlot."

"No, thank you."

"It's a good vintage."

"I'm sure it is."

"Suit yourself. Come in."

She stepped past him into the messy living room, holding her jacket tightly around her. He closed the door and walked over. As she looked around the room, noting the dirty dishes on the coffee table, video tapes and CDs scattered around, he turned her to face him and wrapped his arms around her.

She didn't pull away, but she stiffened in his arms. As he leaned in to kiss her, she could smell the wine on his breath.

"Mmmmm, Susan," he breathed, drinking in her scent, "I can't wait to see what you have in store."

"What *I* have in store?" But he didn't answer her, instead pulling her close and pressing his lips to hers. She let him kiss her, thinking to herself, "If I don't respond, maybe, maybe then it'd be over faster, or better yet, he'll lose interest." Even as she thought it though, she felt her resolve waning.

His hands slid down her to her ass, and he pulled her close, his hard cock pressing against her. She couldn't help herself, she started to kiss him back. It did feel good... No one had ever touched her in this kind of way before. As if he owned her. Then she remembered what he'd said the first time. He did own her, in a way. She hated it. And she loved it. And she hated that too.

She took some small comfort in the fact that while he had forced her, it hadn't been violent. He hadn't hurt her. And he had said he'd been attracted to her since she'd moved in. "It's not much," she thought to herself, "but it's something."

Letting her hands slip around his waist, she continued to kiss him back. She wanted to forget who this was, to pretend it was her husband, but she couldn't, quite. His hands moved back up, this time under her jacket, exploring the curves of her body.

He broke the kiss, "I can see you're liking this, aren't you?" She flushed and looked away. This was NOT the way a married woman was supposed to behave. He released her.

"Take off your coat and go up stairs to my room."

She took off her jacket as he refilled his wine glass. Unsure of what to do with it, she placed it on the arm of the couch. She glanced at the stairs and then back at him. She'd never been in his house before. He noticed.

"Second door on the right." He gestured for her to proceed him and she went, aware she had no choice.

He was right behind her, caressing her ass with his free hand. Then he slipped it under her skirt, feeling up to the tops of her stockings.

"Mmmmm. You wore something slutty..."

"You told me to dress like this didn't you?"

He smacked her ass. "Hurry up, my little slut!"

She moved a little faster, and turned into the bedroom, wrinkling her nose at the stale air in there.

There were dirty clothes strewn about the room, some on the floor, some on the bed. She noted the two empty bottles and the number of glasses on the floor by the side of the bed. There was another bottle on the bedside table. Matt saw her taking in the room.

"Yeah, the place is a mess. Hasn't been the same since Brenda left." Putting his glass down, he sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

"So I see." She stood there, looking at him, not wanting to touch anything. And unsure what he wanted tonight. Other than sex.

"Go to the foot of the bed." Susan walked over and stood there. "Look at me and tell me how much you want me."

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. "I don't want you. I want you to leave me the hell alone."

He raised his arms and crossed them behind his head. In a stern voice he spoke her name.

She took a deep breath. Then he reached for a photograph on the bedside table that she hadn't noticed. He looked at it before grinning and turning it for her to see.

"Tell me, Susan."

It was another picture of her, with Tom, the contractor who'd been working on her house. This image showed her hand on his cock through his jeans, and her smiling up at him. She blanched. Yes, she'd known that he had more pictures, but... how many? How long would this go on?

Matt grinned deviously. "Looks like you've been very naughty. Tell me," he repeated.

She met his eyes. In a dead voice, she said, "I want you. Oh baby, oh baby, take me now, I must have your rock hard cock."

"Oh come now Susan, you can do better than that. Or should we just call Jim?" He reached towards the phone on the bedside table. "By the way, how is your daughter?"

Not normally one for cursing, she muttered, "Fuck," under her breath. "Twice in one night," she thought.

"Mmmmm, a mouth like a sailor." His grin widened again and he picked up his glass. "I'm sure I can find other uses for it."

She ignored that comment. "Please. You've got me here. You know you can do what you want to my body. Do you have to make me do this too?"

"You will do what I say when I say. I will do with you what I want, where and when I want to. Out of doors, in your house, in your church. So. Tell me. What brings you here?"

Her hands were clenched at her sides. She hated this. She hated him, being here, and most of all she hated herself for getting into this situation in the first place.

Closing her eyes, she said, "I'm here because you called. Because you want me." She couldn't believe she was going to say this... "Because I want you too," she whispered. After that admission she couldn't look at him.

"Mmmmm. Good. Take off your dress."

Without an argument and only a slight hesitation, she unbuttoned her dress, still not looking at him. The bustier came into view and he raised his glass in appreciation. "Very nice."

He took a long sip as she slid the dress off her shoulders and let it puddle around her feet, exposing to him her garter belt and stockings.... and the fact that she wasn't wearing panties. She hadn't been able to find the ones that belonged with the outfit. His smile broadened again.

"So Susan... What will you be for me tonight?"

"Be for you? What do you want?"

"Susan." He spoke her name sternly.

She sighed, "Yes, Matt?"

"What will you be for me tonight?"

"Anything you want me to be."

"So, you are...?" His eyes roamed over her body, her lingerie. He licked his lips.

She grimaced in frustration. She was sure she knew what he wanted her to say, but she didn't want the words in her mouth. "What. Do. You. Want?!?"

"A slut. What are you?"

"Then I'm your slut tonight."

He sat up, putting the wine glass down again, and moved to sit at the end of the bed, right in front of her. "Tonight?" His hand went to her ass.

"No," she hug her head, "Not just tonight, apparently." "God," she thought to herself, and not for the first time, "what the hell am I doing? It doesn't matter if I want him or not, I SHOULDN'T be here!"

"Ah, I may tire of you yet...." Hope sprang up in her, a pathetic little thing. "But... No promises." And that tiny spark died again, scarcely born. She sighed as he squeezed her ass possessively.

"Mmmmm. You're so firm."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I try to take care of myself."

"That's good. Brenda didn't."

Susan heard a hollow laugh somewhere back in her mind. She found herself considering gaining weight. A great deal of it.

His hand on her ass moved, one finger traveling down the crack, and she shivered at his touch. Some part of her *did* want him, she had already admitted that.... She could feel herself growing excited, could feel the moisture growing between her legs. Then his finger pressed against her tight hole.

She tried to shift away from him as he reached for her breast with his other hand. "No- Please!"

He didn't stop, holding her in place instead of groping her, and pushed his finger in. She moaned and whispered, "No..."

Pushing it in deeper, he was clearly enjoying doing this to her. He pulled his finger almost out, then back in it went.

"No! Please, stop it!"

"But it's so tight," he said, his eyes on her.

"Yes, it is, but it hurts! Please, I beg you!" He pushed his finger deep again. "Oohhh god," she moaned again.

"Susan, bend over."

She looked at him in alarm, fear clear on her face. But the expression on his face told her not to argue. With great reluctance, she bent over the footboard. He withdrew his finger and stood up. His erection was clearly visible under his robe.

He caressed her ass with both hands as he moved behind her. "Hmmm. Susan... I want to use you, but to show you that I do have some heart, I won't take you there."

She sagged in relief. "God..." she breathed, "Thank you."

"Spread your legs. Show me your pussy." She could feel his eyes on her as she complied. He admired the way the garter belt and stockings framed her ass.

One of his hands went to her pussy, the other one smacked her ass. She jumped, not expecting the stinging slap. He slid a finger into her and she moaned, feeling him stir more inside of her than her wet pussy.

He slipped his hand forward, moving between her lips up to her clit.

"So tell me what you are."

She buried her face in the quilt as his finger moved in tight circles over her little nub. Trying again and failing to pretend this wasn't happening, at least not like this. She moaned again. Both of his hands on her now, one on her clit, with the other he slid two fingers back into her. She wiggled her hips around his hands and he smiled at her reaction, his cock straining under his robe.

He withdrew his hand, wet with her juices, and slapped her a second time. She cried out again. Another smack, then he pushed his fingers back into her. Her breath was coming faster, a little ragged, and small moans kept escaping her.

"Now, what are you?"

"I'm.. I'm a slut," she panted.

"Yessssss!" He slid his fingers deep. More moans from her, she could feel that she was getting close... so close.

He stopped.

She gasped, confused at the sudden lack of stimulation, unsure of what to do as he withdrew his hands. Still bent over the bed, she turned her head to look back at him.

He knelt down, his face was just inches from her sex. She could feel his hot breath on her.

"Spread your lips for me," he ordered.

Slipping her hands under her body, down to her pussy, she opened herself for him, arching her back also, angling her hips to give him better access. He inhaled deeply.

"You smell so sweet."

"Thank you," she said, again in a whisper, not knowing what to say. Then she had no more words as he pressed his face into her. She moaned as he tongued her clit first, then moved back, dipping into her, tasting.

His jaw worked as he ran his tongue in and out of her, over her lips, to her clit and back. She shuddered as he tasted her, teased her, pleased her. He pressed his jaw into her hard, and she moaned more.

He shrugged out of his robe and stroked himself as he worked her pussy over with lips and tongue.

She pulled her hands out from under her body and she clutched at the bedding as he ate her like a man starved. Up and down, front to back, running his goatee over her lips- THAT was something she'd never felt from her clean shaven husband! He wrapped his mouth over her clit, sucking as he fluttered his tongue over it.

Moaning louder, she started to shake. He worked his tongue faster as her body tensed. There was nothing else in the world for her at that moment. No thought, nearly no breath, just his mouth on her, taking her past what she had thought her limits were.

She cried out as her orgasm claimed her. It hit her hard, arching her back, and she thrust back against his eager mouth. She shook with the strength of it, and then sagged on the bed, gasping for air. He kept going, following the movements of her body even as she collapsed. He continued to work on her clit as she soaked his face with her juices, and slipped two fingers into her pussy to feel the contractions there brought on by her climax.

"Ohhh.... oh god... stop... please," she pleaded, gulping for air, "No more..."

He sat back, his face wet with her cum, his goatee matted with it, "Was that good for you, Susan?" he smiled, licking his lips. "You do taste good!"

Susan slowly came back to herself, catching her breath. His hands traveled over her body, toying with the garters, slipping his fingers under the bottom edge of the bustier she still wore.

"Tell me...." He first unhooked the garters, then his hands moved to the fastenings on the front of the garment, as he spoke he slowly undid the little hooks and pulled the garment off, "Does Jim do that to you?"

"Not... Not for a very long time." She wouldn't admit that her husband had *never* done that to her- at least, not nearly so well.

He slapped her ass, hard.

She yelped in pain and surprise. "What did you do that for?!"

"Because I can." He hit her again, "That's for asking questions."

She hid her face in the blankets.

"Not used to pain, huh, Susan?" He admired the red hand print on her ass.

A muffled "No." was her answer. She struggled not to cry, and tried to wipe away the tears that sprang to her eyes with out him seeing.

"A slut like you needs to get used to it." He paused, and she heard the sound of him pulling something towards him. Then his belt came down hard across her back. She never saw the blow coming.

She screamed.

"You're such a dirty little whore!" he shouted over her cries.

The belt came down again, on her ass this time.

"Stop, PLEASE!"

"What are you, Susan?!"

Another blow.

She screamed again, and hoping that saying it would stop the attack, she cried out, "I'm a slut! Please, I beg you! Please stop," she sobbed.

He struck her again, and she slipped off the end of the bed where she had been leaning, and curled up on the floor.

One more blow as she huddled there, and one more scream.

"Now, who's a slut?"

Whimpering, she said, "I am." She didn't move, curled up tight, her hair covering her face. Her back was on fire. She hadn't been in this much pain since her miscarriage. And no one had *ever* treated her like this.

"Yesss."

"Oh god," she whispered, realizing-- the welts on her back would become bruises. "You've marked me..." They might not be permanent, but it would be more than a week before they were gone.

"Yes. You're mine."

"What if Jim sees? How am I going to explain this away? If I tell him the truth, your little game is done."