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kinkabella -> The Blackmail Game (7/24/2004 5:00:37 PM)
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[This story is for the most part, true. Names have been changed and a few things have been left out for the sake of trying to condense a long story into something readable]
In hindsight I can see I have harbored fantasies of being forced to submit for many years. Bondage has played a part in my relationship with my husband virtually from the day we met and for us it was never anything to do with any visual aesthetic of the bindings or other esoteric BDSM interest. It was purely about sex and in particular, my forced submission. We'd been playing our little bondage games for more than ten years before we began exploring the BDSM scene and it became fairly apparent (to me, at least) that the games my husband and I had played in private, while not being unique among many of the couples we met, did tend to fit closest into that fringe area of BDSM play known as Rape Fantasy.
Like many women the word rape immediately used to conjure up all sorts of terrifying things -- things I could barely imagine anybody would actually want to happen to them even in fantasy. About four years ago (not long after we joined a BDSM club and started meeting like-minded people) I remember a couple we know talking about a rape fantasy they had once enacted. They both clearly loved talking about it and spoke enthusiastically about the way they'd set it up. They discussed it for a long time before it happened and said, as I've since discovered for myself, there can often be as much pleasure derived from the planning and plotting of these things as there is in the final realization of those plans. Their plan was relatively simple: one day, when she was least expecting it, he would surprise her and wrestle her into submission. Her instructions were simply to fight and resist vigorously and, apparently, she fought like a wild cat and both were left with lots of bruising and so on afterwards.
Up until they mentioned that (the desperate and physically violent struggle) I had been keenly interested, but that part instantly put me off the idea of ever trying anything similar. I am not an agressive person in any sense of the word and the thought of fighting anybody is a complete anathema to me. Also, being "terrorised" has never appealed to me either and I don't even like watching movies designed to evoke that response. My husband and I talked quite a bit about various forced fantasies and we both agreed that our friends' game would never work for us. However, my husband did persist in now putting a name to the fantasies we shared as pillow talk during our bondage sessions and while reluctant at first, I did slowly become comfortable with hearing him refer to it as rape fantasy. Obviously, there was also a great deal of sensitivity on his part too and he constantly reassured me that these fantasies (usually ones where he'd take me to the BDSM club and allow me to be ravished by everybody there) were just that - fantasies. Neither of us ever qualified that by saying "fantasies that we'd never act out" which, I still think is interesting and a sign that even then, I was mentally chewing over ways to make those fantasies a reality.
About twelve months passed and my husband and I continued going to the club, where we'd play fairly tame BDSM games before returning home to talk through and play out our rape fantasies which were more or less "what if?" scenerios relating to people or things that happened at the club earlier in the night. All very arousing at the time, but still missing the most important ingredient: the sense that it wasn't a game but real, with no safewords.
My husband and I had frequently made little lists of people we knew and acquaintances who we suspected might also be kinky and into what we were into. Among the names in my lists were a few people from work. One of them (I'll call her Lucy) I knew to be on the lookout for a boyfriend after having divorced her husband of many years. She and I got on really well, but I never told her about the things my husband and I got up to in the club however, I was easily able to imagine her getting along with our scene friends and maybe even finding a nice little subby boy of her own. I suspected she had a dominating streak in her, though I wasn't comfortable with the idea of being dominated by her myself. We even invited her to a private kink party we were going to. I warned her in advance what to expect, lying a little and telling her they were all "my husband's friends", but alas, she was so excited and overwhelmed by everything, she got thoroughly drunk and made such a fool of herself she decided it wasn't for her and that was the end of that. She moved on and got a different job not long after, and I haven't seen or heard from her since.
There were three other names on my list, but only one of them I considered seriously as a potential candidate to join our kinky circle of friends. Vic (not his real name) was the maintenence man in the library where I worked and his discreet ogling of me didn't go unnoticed. He was gregarious and often politically incorrect in both his language and manner around me, but I liked his sense of humor a lot. After Lucy moved on he also would occasionally drop little hints that he knew more about me than he was letting on, but I always just acted dumb. I suspect Lucy might have even divulged more than she should have, although she had actually seen me play or even undressed at the party. When I told my husband about this, he was heartily amused and Vic instantly became a character in our shared fantasies -- "the maintenence man drags you down to his shed and does things to you" -- that kind of thing. We even discussed the possibility of inviting him to join the club, but ultimately my husband thought it might not be such a wise idea. He remained in our fantasies, as did the two other men from the maintence department, and many an enjoyable surrender was had with me imagining all of them ravishing and disciplining and otherwise humiliating me on the instructions from my husband. Then, out of the blue, an epiphany happened.
My husband's lists had always included an old friend of his (I'll call him Jeff) who, while not specifically being cited by my husband as being into bondage or BDSM, we both knew well as a foot fetishist. Jeff was a bit like Vic in many ways, but I always felt Jeff was just a little too strange and the thought of having to submit to him gave me the creeps. My husband knew this and it all formed part of his plan to really give me an embarrassing thrill. I no longer remember where he got the idea for the blackmail game from, but he'd clearly spent many hours working on it by the time I first saw it. What he had done was to crop images of my feet (and bound ankles) from dozens of pictures he had. He pasted these into an anonymous letter he'd written to Jeff in which he was offered a prize (me) if he could guess the identity of the owner of the feet. It had been quite a while since I'd seen Jeff and so the chances of him guessing right off the bat were slim, but there was still a chance. The letter also promised more clues, but the "value of the prize" would diminish with each clue he had to ask for. To this day, one of the most thrilling things I've ever done was to press the send button for that email, knowing the game had started and there was no way I'd be able to stop it or retrieve that email from the ether. For the days that followed, I remained in an almost permanent state of arousal with each logging in to retrieve mail at the fake address nearly making me orgasm everytime I saw "new mail" in the inbox. Alas, Jeff isn't exactly one of God's brightest creatures, and after a single reply in which he clearly demonstrated he didn't understand the rules, nothing more was heard from him and the game ended before it really began.
Even though the game proved to be a disappointment in this instance, it deeply sewed the seed which was to become an obsession with me over the following months. I continually found myself thinking of playing the game again with Vic, but I knew it had to be redesigned to make it more playable and enticing for him without giving him all the clues all at once. By now my husband had found new games for me to play. He set me up with a dominant couple we knew for me to be "trained" -- a six month period leading up to his fortieth birthday at which he wanted a formal ceremony to collar me as his birthday present. I thought it was all a bit silly but I went along with it. The training proved to be more fun than I anticipated and there were times where it overlapped with my continued online planning to play the blackmail game again. This planning of mine was done in total secret insofar as my husband was concerned. Not that I hadn't planned to tell him eventually, but just that I didn't want him taking over the game again and disappointing me a second time. I desperately wanted it to succeed and I thought I'd tell all once all the pieces were in place.
It was around this time that I sort of began living two seperate lives. In real life, I had my slave training and the games associated with that. My online life saw me roaming the net, reading up on all the rape fantasy I could lay my hands on, and ultimately to a man I'll call Mike.
Mike wasn't your typical online kinkster. For starters, at seventy-something years of age he was almost twice my age, but he had a certain charm and he wrote BDSM stories that I really enjoyed reading. It wasn't long before I had told him pretty much all there was to know about myself, including my activities in the scene and the blackmail game. I also told him all about Vic and my fantasies about him. Mike immediately took on a role much like my husband had done once he knew the information about Vic and soon he was writing me all sorts of stories about Vic kidnapping me and so on. They were actually a little bit more heavy than I would normally enjoy, but Mike was so creative in the way he told the stories, adding all sorts of little details that I was able to include in my plans for the next blackmail game. Between stories Mike would drop subtle and not so subtle hints that he could make my fantasies about Vic a reality. He also made it clear that, if I opted to take up his offer, he would not let me back out at all. The thought of being so totally committed to playing scared me a little and I still had doubts Mike could be as subtle as I knew he needed to be for the plan to succeed. For me, this success depended more on making the lead up to being outed to Vic being as long and tantalizing as possible. Could Mike be trusted to play that way?
I decided to test him by setting up a dummy address for Vic and playing the role of him, just to see how Mike might approach him and draw him into the game. By now I had already given Mike quite a few photos of myself which he could use to play a convincing game and all he needed was an address to begin playing. But something unexpected happened even before the game got started. Mike suddenly got suspicious and wondered whether or not I was trying to trap him into committing a crime. The thought had never occured to me, but it was an important issue and I knew Vic, if ever he was approached by a stranger such as Mike, would be thinking the very same thing. The way around it proved to be quite simple. I suggested he word his first letter in such a way as to suggest he was playing an online game with a mutual friend and would he be interested in playing?
Even though it was still just roleplaying at this stage (albeit me roleplaying and Mike thinking it was real) it still gave me a thrill when I received the first contact email from Mike. It was a most convincing letter however, as I feared, Mike had immediately ignored my suggestions and went way overboard with what he said I would be willing to do for my "new master." Not knowing what else to do, I decided to keep playing the charade and for the next couple of weeks Mike thought Vic was turning me into the office sex slave and I wrote plenty of tales back to Mike telling him all the juicy details which of course, were complete fabrications. Ultimately I ended up writing myself into a corner and the only way I could see out was to make up yet another lie and tell Mike (writing to him as Vic) that my husband had discovered what was going on and put a stop to it. Naturally, Mike was disappointed and my character invention of Vic disappeared from the net, never to be heard of again. As fate would have it, Mike himself disappeared from the net shortly after to go away on some big touring holiday for a couple of months.
Whilst saved from having my second blackmail game backfire in my face, I was still now more desperate than ever to play again, and play for real. I was still getting my slave training in real life and during one session I threw caution to the wind and brought up the subect of Vic with my training Master and Mistress. It added a bit of spice to the fun we were all already having and many games now included the possibility that my fantasy might indeed come true. At one point, I was taken naked in the back of a van to an unknown address. Blindfolded and bound, I was then caressed and massaged by a stranger (it was hinted it might be Vic, but I later found out it was somebody from within the scene who I knew well) It was a wonderfully erotic night and the thought it might have been Vic touching me all over was incredibly exciting.
About a month before my training was due to conclude, my husband got a new job that threw all his plans, including my training and collaring, out the window. With heavy work committments everything I had been doing in real life ground to a halt, leaving me in a strange kind of limbo and feeling totally unsatisfied. Things stayed this way right up until Christmas of that year, when I could take it no longer. As much as I had been disappointed by Mike's clumsy approach to "Vic", I decided to give him a second chance. This proved to be difficult, because I first had to tell him the game I played with him had all been a set up. He took the news badly at first, but I was able to console him by sending even more pictures of myself in bondage and being disciplined. I also agreed to accept whatever punishment he might prescribe for my deception -- an offer he keenly accepted.
I had from time to time been subscribed to various groups that roleplay various humiliation games but I'd never actively taken part in any. As part of Mike's punishment, he created a group of his own in which, he said, I would be required to do whatever he said and report to the group members. The group was called "Serendipity Says" -- a name taken after a code word which was to have been sent to Vic and which he would use to prove he'd been contacted by Mike to get around the possible entrapment issues. Each day Mike would, through the group, set me small humiliating challenges. I could easily have simply pretended to do them, but he discovered a way to ensure I would comply: he had, somehow, tracked down the email address for a Mistress friend of mine I'd told him about and he'd already been in touch with her and told her everything. She confirmed this as true which, as I said, added a whole new dimention to what I thought would be a simple online game.
The Mistress (Emma) he'd contacted had played with me on many occasions with my husband's full blessing and even encouragement. She provided the perfect cover for me to play Mike's game and my husband, who had been neglecting me and my desires for a few months, had his interest in going out to BDSM parties renewed after speaking with Mistress Emma. He still wasn't brought into the loop about Mike or the previous blackmail game -- a fact Mistress Emma now could use as her own blackmailing hold over me. After a few weeks of being variously humiliated and disciplined by Mistress Emma (all on Mike's command through private emails between them) the subject of Vic and the blackmail game was raised, not just in passing, but seriously.
It turned out that Mistress Emma already found out plenty about the blackmail game from Mike. She had also made contact with Vic and had somehow solicited his email address from him. This fact alone immediately gave me a rush of mixed emotions -- dread combined with sheer exhilleration. Mistress Emma hadn't at this stage told Mike she had the information he wanted, and for a while she used this to begin seriously playing a blackmail game of her own. "I'll tell Mike," became a phrase that would have me instantly obeying her every whim around that time.
Mistress Emma wasn't simply some play-Domme. She was a professional Dominatrix and she had a well equipped dungeon in her home where she would see clients. It wasn't long before she was using me to attract more clients who, she said, would pay handsomely to be dominated with me. It occured to me that Mistress Emma was selling me, but I wasn't getting paid for it. Doing it for free like this added to the humiliation of the sessions she sold me at. Her clients weren't permitted to have sex with me, but I frequently was ordered to kneel before them and masterbate them until they ejaculated. Often they'd be bound, either to a pole or to the St Andrew's Cross Mistress had in her dungeon, and she'd torture them as I masterbated their cocks, scolding them if they even looked like they were enjoying what I was forced to do to them. Invariably their spunk would gush unexpectedly from their cocks and more than once I had my face and breasts covered in their filthy discharges. It was worst when they got it in my hair. The stuff would instantly cool and harden, matting my hair and making me feel thoroughly humiliated even after I had washed it out. What is it about a man's jism that makes it stink like that? It usually would take at least two showers before I could breathe through my nose without smelling the awful, pungent scent that continued to linger.
Occasionally Mistress would permit her clients to dominate me and most wouldn't hesitate when Mistress would invite them to pick from her extensive collection of floggers, whips, paddles and assorted spankers. Usually, it wasn't just the punishment tools her clients wanted to use on me. In one particularly memorable session, one of Mistress Emma's clients selected the largest dildo in the dungeon (a freakishly large pink plastic thing complete with grotesque looking balls) and placed in on the floor in the middle of the dungeon. He then had me kneel over it and, with my hands obediently behind my head, fuck myself on it while he stung my ass with hard hits of a wooden paddle. I lost count of the number of whacks he game me, but they really, really hurt and brought me to tears. All the while he was doing this he kept barking orders at me to fuck myself harder and faster. To my enduring astonishment, I eventually orgasmed and my juices were clearly evident on the plastic shaft after he was finally finished spanking me. Like all the other clients, no session was ever complete unless I'd masterbated all the hot spunk from their cocks, and I masterbated this guy with one hand while being forced to suck my own juices from the shaft of the huge dildo. I think that's probably the most disgusting thing I have ever been forced to do in my life.
After a couple of weeks of humiliations like this, Mike started to get impatient with demands I hurry up and get Vic's email address for him. I told Mistress this and she seemed unconcerned, confiding in me that she had already received plenty of similar demands from him and had grown irritated by them. She told me to leave it with her, which I was happy to do, although I began to suspect she now had no intention of giving Mike the information he wanted anyway. This all happened a few days before what came to be the most memorable of all the sessions I did in Mistress Emma's dungeon.
Before this client arrived (a voyeur, she told me) she shackled my ankles to the ends of a long spreader bar and bound my wrists together behind my back. On this particular occasion she also told me her client had a thing for gagged women. Gags are something I've never been comfortable with and I begged Mistress not to gag me, but she insisted and I was in no position to stop her. It was an evil looking thing: a leather head harness with a small, thick imitation cock attached to the mouth strap. Once in place, my mouth instantly began filling with saliva and swallowing made me acutely aware of the horrible taste of rubber. I stood there in the middle of her dungeon, dribbling like a baby and watching as she began preparing herself for her client.
Mistress Emma is a tall, slender woman and her black latex jumpsuit accentuated the freakishness of the large, black plastic strap-on dildo she put on. It looked obscene dancing up from her loins as she strode around the dungeon, impatiently checking her watch. The final thing she did was to clip a chain to my cuffed wrists behind my back. An electric winch raised my wrists high up behind me until I was forced to bend over in an awkward, uncomfortable position. The doorbell chimed just as Mistress finished raising my arms and she glided over to the door and opened it.
I knew the instant I caught a glimpse of the grinning face that greeted her that it was Vic. She welcomed him into the dungeon and invited him to inspect me. I could feel my face, neck and ears burning hotly with a blushing embarrassment as Vic casually wandered around me, grinning at me but without making it obvious he knew me. Mistress asked him if he brought his camera. The thought of him having photos of me like this had once been an arousing fantasy, but now I wasn't so sure. I watched helplessly as he retrived a small digital camera from a pocket in his jacket and then proceded to take shots of me from various angles. Mistresses "assisted" by spreading my ass cheeks and crudely suggesting I enjoy anal sex more than anything. Fact was I was virtually an anal virgin, but I instinctively knew when I saw Mistress greasing up her strap-on with lubricant that that was soon going to change. Dramatically.
Mistress teased my fearfully puckered anus with the tip of the dildo for a few minutes, gently testing my resistence with ever-increasing forcefulness. The plastic cock was easily as large as any of the largest cocks I'd seen on her clients and the thought of being impaled by it genuinely frightened me. I could feel Vic's looming presence behind me also, capturing my torment with his camera. He said very little except when Mistress asked him how much of the dildo he'd like to see her force into my ass. "All of it," was his reply, and I could tell from his tone he was really enjoying everything.
The only times previously I'd been penetrated in the ass (by my husband with a small buttplug) really hurt. This time, despite the much larger size of the dildo, Mistress was somehow able to push a few inches of it relatively painlessly into my anus. It still felt huge and uncomfortable, not to mention thoroughly humiliating with Vic keenly watching on and photographing everything. The last couple of inches were another matter altogether. That really did hurt, especially once Mistress began slowly thrusting her hips to simulate a fucking action. I tried not to look at Vic as the torturous humiliation continued, but when I did finally glance back at him it was to see him standing behind, watching the plastic cock slip slowly in and out of my burning ass as he masterbated his rigidly erect cock in time to Mistress Emma's gyrations.
Mistress said very little directly to me but the one word I did hear her clearly say to me was "surprise", whispered quietly close to the back of my neck just before she withdrew the dildo from my ass. It was a surprise indeed -- one I totally hadn't been expecting. There was absolutely no denying now that Vic knew all he needed to know about me.
It transpired that Mistress had decided to bring Vic into the game herself because she had the same reservations about trusting Mike that I had had in the previous game. Mike was eventually given Vic's email address and he confirmed everybody's suspicions, but Vic humored him and the games continued without him ever knowing that Vic was actually taking instructions from Mistress Emma and not him. This worked well for a while, but Vic, like Mistress Emma, quickly grew tired of Mike's crazy requests and angry demands. In fact, what ultimately led to his being cut from the picture completely was the realization that Mike was actually now jealous that he wasn't around to participate and give his orders in person. Not that Mistress Emma (or Vic for that matter) would have stood for his nonsense in real life. There was a heated argument and that was that. Mike blamed me, of course, and things became so bad with Mike and his angry emails to me that I eventually became forced to tell my husband everything. Once he'd dealt with Mike, he dropped the bombshell: he'd actually known everything that had been happening from the day Mike had contacted Mistress Emma. How he managed to keep a straight face around me when he knew what was going on, to this day, amazes me.
Vic ended up joining the club and together with my husband, Mistress Emma, and a small select handful of other scene friends, we continued playing our kinky games with each other. I've since changed jobs and don't see much of Vic anymore, but I think he still sees Mistress Emma on a regular basis. Turns out he wasn't the dom I thought he might be but rather a submissive. Life is full of little surprises!
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"You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll be waiting."
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