Precisely at 8 pm, the email came.
“Sluttytits,
Good work. Your cameras are all operational. Your bitch girlfriend is hot, by the way.
Right now, you are going to take off the rest of your clothes and sit naked here in front of the computer. I have turned on your microphone. You are to read out the statement below, in full, at least three times, beginning to end. You are to speak clearly and slowly, and you are to make it sound like everything you are saying is the complete truth, because we both know it is. You are to make eye contact with the camera while you read. The whole time you are speaking, you are to finger your pussy. If, at the end of three times through the statement, you have not orgasmed, you are to continue reading it and playing with your cunt until you do.
When you are done you will get another email, so don’t get up.”
Laura looked over the rest of the email. The statement was horrid. She didn’t want to read it. She knew her blackmailer would be recording her. She didn’t want to masturbate for him, or to say these horrible things. But she knew she would have to. She felt upset, and she hated it. It seemed like all the time these days she was either lost in lust or on the verge of tears. She didn’t want to be. She decided she wouldn’t cry tonight. She was going to be in control of that.
Slowly, Laura stood up, and pulled down the replacement skirt and panties she’d put on when she got home. Her cunt bare, she sat back down on the seat. She took a moment to compose herself, and then looked into the camera, moved her hand to start stroking her twat, and began reading the words from the screen.
“Hi. My name is Laura Smith. I have 32DD tits and I like it when they’re covered in cum.
I claim to be a lesbian, but really I’m not. Really I think about being fucked by cocks all day. I would love to have a cock in my mouth right now to suck on. It could fill my mouth up with cum, or just piss down my throat, and I wouldn’t care. I like drinking cum. I like drinking piss.
I tease all my male friends. I wear slutty outfits that show off my ass and tits. I do that because I want them to rape me. I fantasize so much about my male friends just pushing me down and fucking me. They would cum in my pussy and I would orgasm and squeal and beg them for more. They might even impregnate me. When I think about getting pregnant from being raped by my friends I nearly cum. If I got pregnant my slutty tits would get even bigger and my friends could milk me like a cow.
Please, if you are hearing me say this, rape me. Please. I want it so much. Break into my house and rape me, or catch me on the way to work and just push me down and stick your cock in me. Women can rape me too if you want.
I would like if you rape my girlfriend too. Her name is Erica Chalmers and she’s a fake lesbian just like me. At night we giggle together about all the boys we’re teasing while we lick each other’s twats. We tell everyone that we’re not into boys at all because it drives men crazy. We tell people that a lesbian is something you are born as but secretly we choose to pretend to be lesbians just to tease boys. We like licking cunts but we like it even more when we are fucked by men.
I lie about things all the time. I lie about being a lesbian. I lie about not wanting to be raped. Sometimes I tell lies about being raped, just because it’s fun. Really it would be hard for me to be raped because my cunt juices up whenever I think I’m about to be fucked. The more painful and violent the sex is the better. I particularly like it when people hurt my tits and my cunt. When I’m being raped I scream and say, ‘Stop, stop,’ but that’s only because it’s not fun if I just consent. I don’t really want people to stop. I want them to fuck me harder. If you hear me say stop or no, it really means yes.
My favorite food is cum and my second-favorite food is piss. I hate it when people treat me like a human but I love it when people treat me like an animal or a thing. I love it when people just use me for their fun without asking permission.
I know someday this video might play in court and I just want to reiterate that if I’m saying that I’ve been raped, I’m lying. You caught me! It was a fun game where I lied but I only did it for attention. I love being fucked violently and I tease people until they do it to me. I kept up my allegations this far because I thought it would be hot to have a video of me nude and masturbating played in court at a rape trial. But seriously, I’m such a lying slut.
Anyway, that’s all I have to say. My house is at….”
And Laura read out her address, and then her phone number, and then the address of her workplace. And then she read the whole statement again. And again. She hadn’t orgasmed by the time she’d read it three times, so she started over. On the fourth pass through, she got as far as “my slutty tits would get even bigger” before her orgasm finally hit. She moaned and bounced on the computer seat until the waves of pleasure had passed over her, and then she tried to focus on the screen. She had read it three times and cum, but maybe having started a fourth read she had to finish it? She took a deep breath, and without any real enthusiasm, idly massaged her cunt while she read through the remainder of the degrading statement.
When she was done, she took her hand out of her pussy, wiped it clean on her boobs, and leant back in the chair, waiting for what came next. She was proud of herself. Despite the horrible things she had had to say, she hadn’t cried. She was scared out of her mind, of course – she’d just given out her address and invited strangers to rape her – but she’d managed to avoid crying.
The email came quickly.
“Good little bitch cunt,
Don’t worry your pretty head – not many people will see your video, for now, providing you’re a good little twat. That’ll just be for my private file.
But I am worried about what I saw on the cameras you set up at your work.
It looked like your boss tried to enjoy your body, but then you ran away from him, and then you TOLD someone.
Good little twats don’t tell tales.
So I want you to go back into work. I want you to dress like a girl who lies about being raped. You know what that looks like, and I’ll see on your camera, so you’d better get it right.
You’re going to tell anyone you need to that you lied. Your boss was a total gentleman with you. Whatever you said, you made it up, because you’re a dumb little slut who likes attention.
That’s not me adding a flourish by the way – that’s an order. You are going to literally tell them you’re a dumb little slut that likes attention.
You’re going to apologize to your boss, and to anyone else relevant.
You’re going to tell your whole team that you lied about being molested because you’re a dumb little slut who likes attention, whether they knew about your allegation or not.
And you’re going to beg anyone you need to to be forgiven and keep your job. Do whatever it takes. If they don’t impose a punishment on you, you should ask them to punish you.
That’s all. Have fun at work tomorrow, bitch cunt. And remember, $1,000 due on Friday.
– A stranger.”
Laura looked at it again and again. No. No, she thought. It wasn’t fair. She’d tried so hard. She’d tried to have some control over her life. But now things were going to be even worse with her boss. And, on top of it all, despite her intentions, here she was. Crying.
Chapter 10
THE LIAR
She had been told to dress “like a girl who lies about being raped”. Laura didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she could make some guesses. It was going to be humiliating, and she wanted to die inside, but only metaphorically. The picture of the knife remained horrifyingly literal, and Laura knew she definitely wanted to go on living, even if her life was becoming a nightmare.
It took Laura a while to select an outfit. She tried on several work outfits that were more risqué than she’d normally wear, but started feeling worried about each of them, that they might be too conservative for her blackmailer. She would only get one chance to get it right and if she failed the best she could hope for was a further humiliating punishment, and at worst, the knife. In the end Laura dressed herself in her shortest skirt – a pleated tartan thing – and no panties. She wore red high heels, and a button-up white business shirt with no bra. She looked like Erica had on the weekend, really, although at least Laura’s shirt had buttons. The shirt was reasonably opaque, so you couldn’t immediately tell that Laura had no bra on, although she thought if her nipples got hard they would probably poke through the material. She decided to put a spare pair of panties and a bra in her handbag, so that if everything got too hard she’d at least have them available. Finally, she put on make-up, and looked at herself. Pink hair, pink lipstick, bulging cleavage, barely concealed ass – she looked like a whore. She felt sick inside, but she had no doubt this would satisfy her blackmailer. It would do.
Erica drove her into work. Her girlfriend was clearly curious about Laura’s sluttish attire, but she knew better than to ask about it. Laura sat in the passenger seat, trying to keep her legs tightly closed. She knew there was a camera under the glove compartment focused on her groin, because she had put it there just yesterday. Right now it had a perfect view up her skirt to her shaved cunt, if she parted her legs even a little. Having to think about her pussy the whole drive, if only to conceal it, was distracting, and Laura was embarrassed to feel her twat getting a little aroused by the end of the journey.
When they reached work, Erica left her in the carpark and continued on to her own office. It was cold and overcast; Laura shivered as she crossed the bitumen parking lot, and hurried inside the large departmental offices building, heading straight for the HR section and her scheduled meeting with Chelle.
The meeting was in a large conference room, dominated by a long, round, mahogany table. Chelle was already there, sitting in one of the elegant high-backed conference chairs, and so was Alistair, who was clearly terrified and drenched in flop-sweat. In addition, two other men were present, though taking a back seat. One was Laura’s union rep, who she couldn’t for the life of her recall the name of. The other was John Mackey, Laura’s divisional head – Alistair’s boss.
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