She knocked on the door a little nervously. After years of flirting, they had finally decided to meet up. Sara and Rick had been friends years ago, and about the time Sara moved, had realized they liked one another and started flirting. Of course, they were both married, but it had seemed safe to flirt since Sara had moved. After all, it would end when they no longer saw one another regularly, right?
Naturally, it hadn’t. They had continued to flirt off and on over the years, sharing pictures, sexts, and increasingly explicit fantasies over the years. After all, they worked miles apart and lived on opposite ends of town, so it wasn’t like it would ever be more than that, and sexting wasn’t really cheating. Only now, Sara was changing jobs and had Mondays off… only a mile or two away from Rick’s house. They’d agreed to meet this week- Sara on the pretext of needing to get some administrative paperwork handled at the new job, and Rick having taken a day of PTO without telling his wife.
Sara was having second thoughts, though, as she stood outside the hotel room, waiting for her quiet knock to be answered. She was petite and curvy, her figure softened by bearing 2 children but still bearing a distinctly hourglass shape. She’d dressed today half for the errand that was her pretext, and half for Rick, in a lightweight tank top sundress and cute bra-panty set that set off her pale skin. Suddenly, the door opened, and he was standing there- she hadn’t seen him in-person in 5 years, and somehow, despite the pictures she had forgotten how attractive he was. She stood frozen a second, just staring, before he took her hand and drew her inside. He hadn’t changed a bit, she thought- still lightly tanned, with soft, dusty hair, beautiful eyes, and an irrepressibly mischievous smile. He wasn’t bulky, but she could see in the shape of his arms that he still worked with his body every day.
“Hey,” she stammered. Why was she so nervous? They had been talking- half in jest and all in seriousness, as they said- about getting a hotel room together for years. This wasn’t exactly new ground… and yet all she could think was that this had been a stupid idea and she wasn’t ready to risk her marriage, even for someone whose kinks lined up so perfectly with hers…but God that wicked smile was making her nipples hard.
“Hey,” was all he replied before pulling her in for a kiss. Oh God, he kissed almost perfectly. Smooth lips marred only by a goatee that scratched at her skin, one hand on her lower back tucking her into him, the other curling in her hair, his tongue sweeping across her lips to part them. She melted into him, telling herself that she would just do this much, and then leave. He bit her lower lip lightly and she whimpered into his mouth, fingers clutching his shoulders as his hands moved down to her ass. He smelled earthy with a hint of citrus- she couldn’t tell if it was a cologne she didn’t recognize, or just him- and his mouth tasted vaguely sweet. When he pulled his head back, she didn’t recognize his expression; something dark, possessive, and it promised things she wasn’t sure she was ready for but oh she wanted so much. His hand tightened in her hair and she felt her knees weaken a little. They had spent hours talking about their kinks, all of the little triggers that sent her down the rabbit hole of submission, and clearly he’d been taking notes. Dammit, she couldn’t do this! Weakly, Sara tried to pull away.
“Rick… I don’t think I can do this. I… I just can’t.”
His smile turned even darker, and for the first time she felt a pang of real fear… and arousal. “Yes, you can,” he said coaxingly, and she was suddenly even more aware of their height difference.
“Rick… I mean… you know how much I want you, but I just can’t…. I don’t think I’d ever stop feeling guilty if I cheated on Matt. Look, I’ll pay you back for half the room, but I’m going to head home.”
Rick took a deep breath, his expression turning mournful and she started to relax. She really did feel guilty about flaking out on something they’d both wanted for so long, but now that she was here and it was real, she just wasn’t ready to cheat. “Well, love, I’m really sorry about that… but you can, and you’re going to.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and started flipping through it casually. Sara looked up in shock, which quickly turned to rage. “Dude. I said no.” Turning on her heel, she marched for the door. What the fuck was he thinking?
Just as she reached the door, his voice came again. “I mean, I can’t imagine Matt will be particularly happy about these photos, after all.” Sara stopped cold. He had to be kidding. Slowly, she turned around. “What photos?” She realized absently that her voice had gone shrill. She knew exactly what photos. Rick’s smile was cold now, and as he held the phone up, she saw some of the pictures she’d sent him over the years loaded in a message, ready to be sent to Matt, his number already typed in.
“You… you can’t. Rick, you can’t! I… I have Meredith’s number, too!” This was a nightmare. In 5 years, he had never once showed signs of being willing to fucking blackmail her into sex! She realized she was shaking. This was some kind of elaborate joke.
Rick’s voice was calm, though. “You don’t have anything explicit of me, nothing that I wouldn’t post on Instagram from the gym, and who do you think Meredith is going to believe, anyway?” He took a step forward, completely into her space, backing her up against the door and bent down to whisper into her ear. “Don’t worry, baby… remember, I know better than anyone how much you fantasize about rape. I’m just giving you your fondest wish… and you’re going to give me everything I’ve ever wanted, or I will send every photo I have of you and a few more I plan on taking, to your husband.”
Sara was shaking, tears in her eyes even as she got angrier and angrier. This couldn’t be happening. “Look, I’ll fuck you today, but this is stupid. You know you’re not interested in sex with someone who doesn’t want to do it and you can’t imagine that I actually want to be for-real-raped, can you?”
“I think you want it, and I’m giving you the excuse you need to have it. I know you’re already wet, because I can smell it. And I think I don’t really give a shit, because you’re going to be my personal sex slave, and I can’t actually bring myself to care if it’s wrong or not. Now, come here.”
Sara whimpered, stumbling after him as Rick’s hand encircled the back of her neck, dragging her back into the hotel room. He left her stumbling, swaying, in front of a chair that he dropped into. “Now, strip for me, girl. I’ve been waiting for this for years, and I plan on enjoying every moment of it… and you.” Sara had to admit that this was running just a little too close to so many of her favorite fantasies for her not to be affected. She could feel her nipples hardening, her stomach doing little flip-flops of nervousness and arousal despite her anger. And her pussy… well. Rick hasn’t been kidding about being able to smell her arousal. There was a glorious relief in losing control, in not being able to stop what was happening, even as much as there was terror. At least Rick had never mentioned any particular fetishes that she would consider hard limits… of course, he had never mentioned a willingness to blackmail her, either, which made his silence on the topic of fetishes somewhat less reassuring. Slowly, Sara stepped out of her shoes and lifted the hem of her dress. Oh god, what was she doing? “Now, bitch. I’m about 3 seconds from hitting send if that fucking dress doesn’t come off.” Hurriedly, stumbling, she pulled it off and dropped it, standing and shivering in her bra and panties- the burgundy set she’d bought just last week for today. She knew it set off the creamy pink tones to her skin, the bra lifting her full breasts into heavy mounds that he had spoken of fucking so often, and the hipster panties showing off the curves of her ass and hips.She’d spent hours looking forward to him peeling them off of her slowly, and now this… She stared at him defiantly, but felt an unwelcome flicker of satisfaction when he swallowed at the sight of her. “Keep going.” But this time, his voice was hoarse. Sara wasn’t a dancer, wasn’t a stripper, and had no idea how they made the process of removing a bra look so sexy, and simply fumbled with the clasp behind her back, not realizing that the movement pulled back her shoulders, lifted up her breasts, and as her hands traveled back along her ribcage, trying to prolong the moment before her bra dropped, covered them with teasing hints that took his breath away before the scrap of burgundy lace finally landed on the carpet and revealing her heavy breasts and gently curved belly. She slipped her panties off more quickly, gritting her teeth and standing naked for his inspection. She knew what he’d see: she was short, curvy without being fat but with the softness that bearing children brings. Her breasts were heavy, pendulous, with tiny nipples set in large pink areolas. She shaved only her labia, leaving a neatly trimmed patch of hair above her mons, several shades darker than the dark blonde, shoulder-length hair on her head. Her face was unremarkable, pretty without being noteworthy with high cheekbones and dark, expressive eyes balanced out by thin lips and a long nose. She’d left her hair loose today, and it was already snarled from his hands wrapping in it. Glancing at Rick’s face, she was caught by his expression- there was no inspection here, only appreciation and she found herself feeling a small glow of pride.
“Come here.” His voice was a little unsteady, and Sara felt a bit bolder as she stepped forward, into the open space between his legs. This was, after all, what she had wanted, and there was a curious pleasure in being forced into it. Rick leaned forward and grasped her hips, dragging her into the chair and straddling him and she fumbled gracelessly for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted. She found herself kneeling in his lap, her legs spread a little by the width of his hips and her hands landing on his shoulders automatically to keep herself balanced. Slowly, deliberately, he took her hands and pressed them into the sides of the chair. “Don’t move.” Sara bit her lip and nodded, gripping the chair arms with clammy palms. Abruptly, Rick slapped her breast, hard enough to make her hiss and nearly let go of the chair arms. “Some ground rules, my darling. When I speak to you, you will answer me properly. Now, how do you think that is?”
Sara felt her heartrate rising, and realized her voice was breathy as she answered. “Yes, R-” When his eyes narrowed, she quickly changed her answer. “Yes… Sir?” He smiled then, and she slumped a little in relief. Now his hand raised again, deliberately slowly and unthreateningly, and stroked her cheek. She shuddered a little but found herself leaning into the comfort involuntarily, closing her eyes.
“Good girl.” She felt his other hand rise up and cup her head, his fingers tangling gently in her hair, and she made a small sound in her throat at the sensation. When he pulled her head forward, she went willingly this time, her body already pliant from years of trained responses she had given him the keys to exploit, and his lips were surprisingly gentle on hers when their mouths met. For a long, slow time they simply kissed, his hand tightening in her hair until she was making small sounds of need against his mouth and her hands were sore from gripping the chair arms. Eventually, his free hand drifted down to cup her throat, drawing a gasping moan from her, before finding her breast and toying with her nipples. At this point, she was writhing against him, having almost completely forgotten her earlier reticence. As Rick teased and toyed with her nipples, stroking and grasping her breasts, Sara found her hips arching against him in little jerks, and when he took one nipple between his long fingers and twisted it tightly, she gave a little gasping scream into his mouth. “You like that, don’t you?” he tore his mouth away from hers long enough to ask, his own voice unsteady. “You like being out of control, being forced to perform for me. You love being my own personal little fucktoy.” Sara’s head dropped in embarrassment, hiding her face behind her hair as she flushed crimson. His hand tightened in her hair and lifted her face up, the other hand gripping her nipple tightly as she realized her mistake.
“Y-yes, Sir. I’m sorry, yes, Sir,” she gasped, shaking in his grip.
“Better.” His fingers on her nipple gentled, but kept stroking the now-sore one, a pleasure-pain reminder of their power differential, and he kept her face lifted, denying her the ability to hide her embarrassment, or her arousal.
“Th-thank you, Sir,” she whispered, and this time, he smiled. She whimpered. His hand dropped from her nipple to run along her waist, tracing the dip and curve there, dropping down to her thigh and returning to her pussy. She couldn’t help it- Sara gasped when his fingers reached her sensitive labia, and her hips jerked against him.
His smile got darker. “You’re so wet.” Sara made a tiny, involuntary sound as his fingers brushed along her labia, exquisitely sensitive since being shaved this morning, coating his fingers in her juices. Deliberately avoiding her clit, he toyed with her labia for a while, just stroking teasingly, maddeningly, until her hips jerked in need against him. Tightening his hand in her hair again, he lifted his fingers to his mouth, forcing her to watch him lick his fingers clean, and smirking at her indrawn breath as she watched his tongue remove every drop of her arousal from his skin. His hand returned to her cunt, cupping it now, and she moaned, her hips jerking against his palm.
“Oh God, please…” she panted, not even sure what exactly she wanted, only that it wasn’t enough.
The slap to her pussy was sharp, the slickness of her skin carrying the crack, and she yelped, twisting against the hand in her hair. “Please what?”
“Please Sir! Please please please…..” Two long fingers pressed themselves inside her and she screamed softly, writhing against them as he stroked her cunt from the inside out, his thumb pressed against her clit.
His voice came again, low and almost harsh now, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, my darling little slut? To used and controlled and fucked with no choices whatsoever. To be helpless against whatever I want to do to you.”
She could barely form words now, but did her best to answer him, stuttering incoherently, “Y ye yessss Sirrrrrr.”
“Good slut. Now, I’m going to adjust my rhythm and when I find the one that’s going to let you cum all over my hand, you’re going to tell me. Clear?”
An equally incoherent attempt at words followed this, and it was a short time before she was gasping, “Yes there yes pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease Sir,” and her breathing turned jerky. Rick adjusted his grip from her hair to her throat, drawing another strangled noise of arousal from her and a muffled, “pleeeeeease?”
Correctly interpreting her plea, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her breast, saying around her nipple, “Now.” An inarticulate scream followed, Sara writhing and shaking against him, her pussy clenching against his fingers as she writhed in orgasm. Rick kept toying with her, dragging it out until he felt her start to pull away, overstimulated and spasming against him. Slowly, he released her throat and let her body drop onto his lap, removing his fingers and drawing a last whimpering gasp from her throat as she collapsed against him, hands still clenched tightly on the arms of the chair. “Mmmmmm good girl,” he told her gently, slowly drawing her arms down and onto the back of the chair to change their position without yet allowing her to use them.
Sara curled against him, still shaking and occasionally spasming a little against him as her overstimulated pussy dragged against the material of his pants. That was the best orgasm she’d had in… she couldn’t remember. And he was so warm, one hand running up and down her back slowly. Drowsily, she closed her eyes. This was the Rick she remembered, smelling amazing and so comforting even while she was dripping wet because of him. “Now, now,” his voice came quietly, “you’re not finished yet, little whore.” Reflexively, her hips jerked at the casual insult. Without opening her eyes, she felt his fingers against her lips and opened her mouth immediately. She didn’t relish the taste of herself, but she knew exactly what was being asked and she wasn’t about to refuse him anything after that orgasm. Except maybe walking. She might have to refuse to walk… mostly because she wasn’t sure if she could. Gently, she sucked his fingers clean, running her tongue between them and swirling it around each fingertip, pressing herself forward to take them in down to the knuckle, cleaning her juices from every inch of his skin. She could feel his erection against her stomach and distantly wanted to do something about it, but she was still limp from her orgasm and couldn’t quite move yet. Apparently, he remembered that about her, however, and didn’t push just yet. She was quite sure, however, given that it wasn’t even noon yet, that she was nowhere near finished.
End Part 1
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/alkbgr/the_coworker_part_1_mfdubconblackmailbdsm