Blackmailing Julie

BLACKMAILING JULIE

Part II

After the punishments of that Sunday night, I noticed a change in Julie. From that point on she was more fearful, and more obedient. It may have been my imagination, but after that day it seemed as if her mouth was always open a little wider, her tongue was always flickering a little faster, and her use of the word "sir" was always a little more heartfelt.

When I arrived for my visit the following day I had Julie spread for me again, so I could inspect the results of my handiwork the night before. While her pussy was obviously still quite tender, and in general still reddish in colour, there was no permanent damage done. Still, I decided to take it easy on her: after all, I didn't want my cocksucking machine to have a breakdown and end up out of commission. After letting her beg me for forgiveness one last time, I spent the evening relaxing on her couch while she gave my cock a long, gentle tongue bath, followed by a slow blowjob. After I'd filled her mouth with cum, I made her hold it there and apologize to me another ten times before I finally let her swallow it.

***

Later that week, home on my own, I noticed that my apartment was filthy. It had been a while since I'd given it a good cleaning, but after a long day at work, I just didn't have the energy for chores. I picked up my phone.

"Hello, cocksucker," I said, and listened to Julie's respectful greeting. "I have some chores that need doing. Get down to my apartment, now."

I hung up without waiting for a response. During the five-minute interval it took for her to arrive, I dug out some cleaning supplies from the cupboard – a bucket, a sponge, some soaps, a mop, a broom, old rags.

Then I heard a timid knock on my door. I purposely waited for a few minutes, imagining Julie standing outside my door in the hallway, nervous, wondering what was going to happen. I'd never brought her by my place since the blackmailing began, and being here was probably not something she'd enjoy. After a few more timid knocks over the next few minutes, I pulled the door open. Julie entered, and I closed it behind her.

She stood nervously inside the doorway. I looked at her. "Well?" I said, "What the fuck are you waiting for? Strip, bitch."

Julie performed her usual obedient striptease for me, taking off every item of clothing and piling it on the floor beside her shoes. I stood to the side with my arms crossed, and watched her strip. When she was done she stood awkwardly in her nakedness, arms dangling at her sides, fighting the urge to cover her private parts. "Put your hands on your head and open your mouth," I said, and left her there.

I went into the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee. I took my time, and about five minutes later I returned to the entrance area and found Julie as I'd left here: naked, standing erect with her hands on her head and her mouth gaping open. I took a sip of my coffee and looked at her. "Oh," I said with mock surprise, "you're still here."

"Yes, sir." she said.

"I'm not in the mood to use your holes right now, but you might as well make yourself useful. There's some cleaning stuff in the other room. Get in there and get to work. You can start by scrubbing the floors, in every room, with the sponge in the bucket. I want you to scrub 'em on your hands and knees. Make every square-inch spotless. Do you understand me, cocksucker?"

"Yes, sir." Julie said, still standing with her hands on her head. I took another sip of coffee.

"Well, then what the FUCK are you waiting for? Jesus. Make yourself useful, bitch. Try to convince me there's more to you than three holes and a pair of titties."

Julie scrambled past me into the other room, and I heard the clanking and sloshing of the cleaning equipment. When I sauntered into the living room a few minutes later, Julie was already hard at work. I was greeted by the sight of her ass, pointing into the air, as she scrubbed the floor on all fours facing away from me. From across the room, the shape of her ass was perfect. It had that "apple-round" look you read about in books. Her small, smooth slit protruded from between her cheeks; above the slit, her anus stood out clearly, like a bulls eye on a dartboard, slightly darker than the rest of her pale skin.

I sipped my coffee yet again and continued to watch. Julie was working quickly, obviously out of fear. She would dip the sponge into the soapy bucket, wring it out, then scrub the floor vigorously in all directions. Once done, she'd slide the bucket over a few feet, and then repeat the process. All her activities gave me fantastic views of her naked body, as she was constantly stretching, twisting, bending, spreading her cheeks, and jiggling her breasts… it was a pornographers dream. As a bonus, my floor was getting cleaned, too.

I walked past Julie without saying a word, popped a DVD in the player, and settled in on the couch. For the next hour or so I enjoyed my movie, feet up on the coffee table, while Julie worked. I made my best effort to ignore her, though of course when she was facing away from me I stole a few glances at her bare ass. My goal was to reinforce to Julie what she was to me: not a mistreated girlfriend, not a lover, not even a sex object, but merely an object. I wanted her to realize that she was a tool: something that was only valuable to me until she had finished whatever task I requested, whether that task was a blowjob, an asslicking, or a floor scrubbing. Once a task was complete, she would be put away and ignored until needed again.

Throughout the hour, focused on my movie, I vaguely noticed that Julie was moving around different areas and rooms of the apartment, scrubbing as I instructed. Eventually, I heard the scrubbing stop, and a padding of bare feet on the still-damp floors. There was a pause, and then I heard a little voice.

"S-s-sir. I'm done, sir." she said, standing a few feet to the left of where I was sitting. I pretended I hadn't noticed or heard her, and continued to watch my movie. She repeated herself, louder.

I jerked around to face her. "What the fuck are you doing here, bothering me?" I thundered, "you stupid fucking cunt. I told you I'm not interested in your holes today. Damn it, can't you go one day without sucking on my cock, you horny little slut?"

"I'm sorry!" she whimpered, "I-I—what should I do now then, sir?"

I stared at her, cowering naked, and noticed that her knees were red from kneeling on the hard floor, and soapy water had left scummy gray streaks down her arms onto her chest and stomach. I sighed. "I suppose I can't expect a dumb cocksucker like you to think for yourself, even a little bit, can I?" I paused.

"No, sir." Julie responded, when she realized I was waiting.

"Right. I want you to clean anything that needs it. Start with the bathroom. Scrub everything, the tub, the toilet. Then take my dirty laundry from the basket by the bed into the laundry room and do that. After that, clean all the dishes in the sink and scrub down the kitchen. That should be sufficient for today. Got that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. I'll be here, watching TV, and I do not want to be bothered again. When you are done, just stand over in that corner," I said, pointing to a corner of the living room, "with your hands on your head and your mouth open. When I have time to deal with you, I'll deal with you."

"Yes, sir." she said, and began to leave.

"Oh, and cocksucker?" I said.

"Yes, sir?"

"Be warned that I will be inspecting your work later. All of it. And if anything is not spotless, you WILL be punished. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not convinced you do. Get that big blue book off the shelf. That one, there," I said, pointing. "Yes, that one. Look up the word 'spotless' and read the definition to me, cocksucker."

Julie obeyed. I watch as she stretched her short, bare body up on to her toes in order to reach the top shelf. She pulled down the heavy book, and flipped through it frantically. When she reached the correct page, Julie glanced at me to make sure I was listening, and then began to read:

"Spotless. Immaculate. Absolutely neat, clean and pure."

"Very good, cocksucker. You may put the book back on the shelf. Keep that definition in mind while you clean."

"Yes, sir."

"Now get to work, cocksucker."

I spent the next hour watching the exciting conclusion to my movie, an experience which was marred only slightly by the sounds of cleaning and scrubbing in the background. I heard the washing machine start, then water running in the kitchen sink, followed some time later by silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julie standing in the corner as I'd instructed. I switched DVDs and watched about half an hour worth of extra features. They were kind of boring, but I liked the idea of leaving Julie standing, waiting, and thinking about what I might do to her if her definition of "immaculate" did not equal mine.

Once I was completely done with the movie, I ignored her and I walked past her into the kitchen. Everything was nice and clean, with the floor shining, the sink glistening, and all the dishes put away. I put my empty coffee cup into the sink. Then I went into the bathroom, where everything was similarly shiny, took a piss, brushed my teeth, and then visited the bedroom to get ready for bed, noticing piles of clean, neatly folded laundry on the dresser. Since there were no obvious flaws with Julie's cleaning, and I was tired, I decided to end the evening. The fear of punishment would be enough for her, this time.

I walked back out into the living room, glanced over at Julie in her naked-hands-on-head-gaping-mouth position, and pretended again to be surprised. "What are you still doing here, cocksucker? Get lost."

I turned out the lights and headed into the bedroom, leaving Julie to try to dress herself in the dark. I heard the apartment door click as she carefully closed it behind her.

***

I dropped by the next day for a couple quick cocksucks, including my first visit that was so early in the morning Julie had barely woken. Her hair was mussed, and her eyes squinty as she pulled off her pajamas in her doorway, knelt, and sucked. As her lips slid up and down my cock, images of her scrubbing my floors naked flashed through my brain. I thought about the humiliation and degradation she must feel at being so coarsely used, abused, and objectified, with absolutely no recourse of action. Any revenge she tried to extract on me would come back to haunt her tenfold, whether it was at my own hand or at the hands of the court system.

I glanced down at her, with her messy blonde hair, cute slightly upturned nose, spattering of freckles, and small mouth stretched around my cock. Below her hair, I could just see the curve of her back and two round circles of her ass. Most of all, however, I enjoyed the utter attention and seriousness with which she undertook her task, and the way every movement of her lips and tongue carefully emulated the lessons I had taught her over the previous months. When my cock finally exploded into her waiting mouth, I wondered how many times she would brush her teeth before she went to work, how long it would take for the taste of my cum to fade, and how many times during the day she would speculate about what would await her when she returned home.

***

Sometimes, I would purposely leave her be for a few days. As tempting as it was to visit every day, morning and night (now that she was trained, her blowjobs were unequaled) I knew that it would be better in the long run to let her keep some semblance of her normal life. I enjoyed the idea of her going to work, to dinner, out with friends, perhaps even dating, all the while wondering when there would be a knock at the door and she would once again face my hard cock bobbing in her face, my insults, my degrading tasks, or the sting of my belt. I also didn't want her to get an inflated sense of her importance to me. After all, I had a life, too. I dated other women, went to the movies, worked, partied, and drank. Julie was just a backup, something to use when it was convenient for me. Julie was like that favourite old porn mag you pulled out from under the mattress when you got home from a date that didn't work out – with her mouth in place of a wad of tissues, of course.

No, Julie could be used for far more than an occasional fuck and suck. She was mine to punish, and I knew of more ways to use and abuse her than she could ever have dreamed.

***

"Faster!" I called out, and sat back, watching Julie crawl. It was the following weekend, and Julie and I were playing a game of fetch. Together, we had visited the neighbourhood pet store, when Julie had purchased some things at my request. She was now the proud owner of a dog collar, a long leather leash, and some plastic dog bowls. To these toys, I had added an old rubber dildo I'd found in my apartment, left there by some long-forgotten ex girlfriend.

Now I was sitting on a kitchen chair, tossing the dildo across Julie's apartment. She was scrambling on all fours, naked, collar around her neck, leash streaming behind her, to repeatedly fetch the dildo and carry it back to me in her mouth. The dildo was realistically shaped and coloured like an oversized cock, complete with veins. I instructed her to carry it with the head in her mouth, "the way you're used to, cocksocker," I'd laughed.

Every time she'd returned the dildo to me, I had her drop it at my feet, then sit back on a squatting position, hook her arms up in front of her like a dog, open her mouth, and stick out her tongue. Earlier, I'd pulled her hair up into two buns on top of her head, and tied them in place with some thin red gift ribbon. The effect was surprisingly dog-like, and I took great pains to point this out to her.

"Good bitch. Here you go, fetch your bone again." I tossed the dildo yet again, extra far this time, and it landed partially behind the couch. I watched from the other room as she desperately tried to dig it out with her face, knowing that I was watching and that using her hands for any task was forbidden during this game. Eventually she succeeded, crawled back cross the room with the rubber cock hanging out of her mouth, dropped it, and assumed her squat position.

"Well, cocksucker, your bowls are done," I said. In between tosses, I'd been carefully painting Julie's name on the side of each of the dog bowls. The word "JULIE" was now neatly emblazoned in white block letters across each. I'd contemplated using her nickname, cocksucker, but thought that it would be more humiliating to see her real name on there. "Cocksucker" could apply to anyone in that context; "Julie" was specific to one person, and every time she saw those bowls I wanted her to remember who they were for.

I filled one bowl half full of water, then set it down on the floor. "Drink up, doggy." She obediently crawled over, and put her face tentatively into the bowl and tapped the water surface with her tongue. "Faster! I know you're thirsty, bitch." I stood over her, grabbed her leash, and pulled it taught so there was just enough pressure on her throat to remind her I was there. When her drinking was still too tentative, I put one foot on the back of her head and pressed her face down into the bowl. She thrashed, and water sloshed over the side of the bowl and onto the floor.

"Now you've made a mess," I observed. "Drink everything in the bowl, then lick up the slop on the floor. Now." Finally, she listened, and began to drink the water more effectively. As a reward, I took my foot off the back of her head, but I still stood over her and kept the leash tight in my hand. After much slopping and slurping, the level of the water in the bowl dropped and was finally licked clean. At my encouragement, she did the same to the floor around the bowl, and carefully licked up all the obvious spatters. When done, she sat back, assumed her dog position, and stuck out her tongue.

"Good girl!" I stuck the rubber dildo into her mouth. "This should keep your mouth happy," I said, and headed into the kitchen with the other bowl. I opened the fridge and contemplated my options. I decided to start with a generous squirt of ketchup into the bottom of the bowl. To that, I added a few scoops of yogurt, and a handful of leftover rice from a Tupperware container. From the cupboard, I seasoned the meal with a generous squirt of vinegar, a hefty shaking of salt and pepper, and five or six drops of hot sauce. I topped the bowl off with a handful of crumbled crackers. I used a spoon to mix it all into one glob, and once the crackers began to grow soggy, I decided that the feast was ready. I headed back to the living room.

Julie was still squatting naked, with her hands hooked in front of her and the dildo dangling from her open mouth. Her ribboned "dog ears" were slightly askew, and her knees were glowing red again from all the crawling. The leash ran down from her neck, between her breasts, and dangled between her thighs onto the floor.

"Dinner is served, doggy! Thank your master."

"Thank you, sir," she said, her voice muffled by the dildo.

"What's that? I can't understand you, cocksucker."

"Thank you, sir!" she repeated, louder, with more enunciation around the rubber cock. I yanked it out of her mouth, grabbed the end of the leash, and pointed to the bowl.

"Dig in."

When Julie saw what was in the bowl, she pulled back instinctively. "What – what is – I can't –" she stuttered, and tears began to well in her eyes.

"Why, you ungrateful bitch!" I said, and pulled the collar tight, choking her. "You eat my ass, you swallow my cum, but you won't eat perfectly good food from your own kitchen? Food that I myself took the time to prepare?"

"I-I'm sorry," she sputtered.

"You better be. I could be home, relaxing, but instead I'm here preparing food for you, you pathetic little cunt. I could just fuck your mouth, fuck your ass, and then leave. But instead I'm paying you attention. I'm taking the time to train you. I'm taking care of you. Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

"Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Thank you for what?"

"Thank you for the food, sir."

"Good girl." I relaxed my grip on the leash. "Now eat. It's nothing that will harm you. I wouldn't want to poison my little cocksucker. After all, who would suck my dick then, hmm?"

And so Julie began to eat, slowly, breathing audibly through her nose in a vain attempt to avoid the taste. Once again, I assisted her by shoving her face down into the mush with my foot. The chewing and swallowing noises were loud, and it seemed to take forever, but eventually Julie finished. When the bowl was licked clean she sat back on her haunches again, assumed the dog squat, and opened her mouth.

I couldn't help but laugh at the sight. Her entire face was smeared with traces of the food. It was on her chin, on her cheeks, on her forehead, and there were even chunks in her hair. I scooped some of it onto my hand and held it in front of her face. "You missed some of your delicious meal, bitch." She obediently licked and sucked my fingers clean.

I glanced at my watch and realized it was getting late. "Well, well, I have to be heading home soon, cocksucker. But since I'm in such a nice mood today, I'll give you some dessert first."

I unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly, and fed my semi-erect cock into her open mouth. She began to suck, with her usual skilled and efficient technique, while I gripped her leash tightly in my hand to ensure her face stayed securely in my crotch. Soon I was ready to cum, but I resisted, and instead pushed her mouth away from my cock.

"Pick up the bowl."

Julie hesitated. I repeated the command, and she quickly picked up the bowl, kneeling in front of me, and looked up with puzzlement.

"Suck me again. Keep sucking until I tell you, and then hold the bowl up under my cock and milk my cum into the bowl. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Julie did as she was told, putting my cock back in her mouth and sucking until I gave the signal. Then she held the bowl under my cock with her left hand, and used the right to jerk me off into the bowl, as I grunted in pleasure. When all my cum was spent, I told her to put the bowl back on the floor. As she was doing so, I wiped my cock off on her ribboned hair.

I looked down at her, and saw her kneeling and eying the bowl with repulsion. "There you go, doggy!" I laughed, zipping up my fly, "dessert is served!" I glanced down at the splatters of runny semen in the bowl, looked back and her, and said, "Eat up!"

Reluctantly, Julie leaned forward and began to lick. I stood back and watched the scene: the slender, naked girl, collared and leashed on all fours, ass in the hair, with her face buried in a dog bowl with her name printed on the side of it. Licking up cum. My cum.

This was true justice, I thought.

When she was done, Julie resumed her squatting position and looked up at me. "Well?" I said, "Aren't you going to thank me and tell me how yummy it was?"

"Thank you, sir. It was very yummy."

"What was?"

"Your cum sir. Thank you for letting me eat your cum for dessert." Her face quivered.

"You are welcome, Julie," I said, and saw the surprise in her eyes when I called her by her real name. "I'm taking a piss and then heading home. Clean this place up, and I will see you again soon, doggy."

I headed into her bathroom, leaving her in the kitchen, naked save for the dog collar, washing out the dog bowls. I took a piss, flushed, and then washed my hands. As I was leaving I noticed her toothbrush standing in its holder. For fun, I pulled it out and tossed it into the toilet. It floated in gentle circles in the clear water. I headed home, chuckling to myself, leaving the surprise for Julie to discover later. After all, why should the fun stop just because I've left?