Diane Blackmailed

... from chapter 14 ...

While the men started in on the skinny whore, Curtis crouched down beside Diane and smacked her breasts from side to side. "Joe was about right, maybe ten days for full absorption." He squeezed them and Diane saw spots in front of her eyes. He let go and stood up, looking down at her. "We may have to refill those once a week." He walked away, ignoring the tears that were running down Diane's face.

CHAPTER 15 [Week 5 Sat - ]

Curtis spent two hours with Diane that Saturday night after the gang had left with their hooker. Diane was surprised that Curtis repeated his session with her from a few weeks back, the rubber bands on her tits and jerking himself off while still wearing his street clothes. When he was finished, he turned her over to Julie. She pimped her out to a line of men who were expecting the redhead with the huge tits they'd seen in the photos. Since Diane's body had absorbed most of the saline since the photos were taken, most of them complained. Julie still made several hundred dollars pimping her, but she was clearly angry with Curtis for passing off inferior goods. She promised them that she would deliver next time and glared at Diane, shaking her head. "I guess I gotta get you out there the same day you get your treatment, honey."

The big-tit crowd tapered off around midnight, then Julie made a phone call to Curtis. She was finished with Diane, what should she do with her? Diane listened with tears in her eyes as they talked about her like a thing. They considered several options for what to do with her body. Call the club that owned the apartment and offer her to them for a few hundred dollars. Curtis knew someone who needed a women to use hard for a porno website, but he wouldn't pay enough to make it worth their time. Diane felt herself getting turned on as they talked about different ways she might be used to make them some money. They had no regard at all about what it would be like for her, she was merely an object to sell, flesh to be traded on the market. She slid her hand between her legs and started masturbating. Julie slapped her face and laughed hard, told Curtis what had just happened.

They ended up putting her out on the street with the other girls. Her boobs - shrinking but still oversized - attracted a good amount of business. Curtis insisted on pimping her out at ten dollars a trick - mainly to undercut the others - but she still raised nearly three hundred dollars by the time they sent her home at nine the next morning.

The telephone was ringing, the sound came to her from a long way off. Diane rolled over and opened her eyes. It was just before noon. She'd had three hours sleep. She was groggy but knew she had to get up and find it. It could be Monish. If he didn't answer, he might go to Vader with pictures. And movies. And...something...she shook her head, was too tired to think straight. She sat up on the edge of the bed, stood up but lost her balance, caught herself on the opposite wall. She inched her way along the wall past the bathroom, past the kitchen, following the sound of the phone.

Diane reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner into the front room. She froze. There was a man sitting on the sofa, wearing nothing but a towel, feet propped up on the end table, holding her phone in his hand. She looked down at herself, naked except for a pair of shiny red boxer shorts someone had put on her during one of her tricks last night. The man's eyes were locked on her oversized tits, his hand still outstretched offering her the phone.

"I'm pretty sure it's fo' you," he said with a big grin.

Diane took it from him, sat on the far end of the sofa, curled her legs up underneath her. "Hello?"

"Diane?" It was Lars. "Diane, we haven't heard from you in a while. Just wondering if everything's OK."

"Sure, Lars, just busy at work, you know how it is..." she lied. She watched the man at the other end of the sofa, he'd gone back to staring at the television set and sipping an icy drink. It was playing a rerun of an old sitcom, something in black and white.

"We're all missing you. It's been a couple of weeks now and you have some real fans here, you know." She closed her eyes and nodded. In the last three weeks, she'd gone so far beyond anything they'd done to her she didn't even know where to start explaining.

"I...I don't know if I can make any time commitment right now. A lot of things are up in the air." Like not knowing when Monish is going to pimp me out to some pervert with a nipple fetish, she thought. She shook her head. Focus!

"Diane, you really sound tired. Are you sure everything's all right?" Lars asked, concerned and listening hard. She took a silent breath and tried to lighten her voice.

"Lars, that's *so* sweet of you to be worried, but I'm OK. Really. Work is just insane is all," she said, trying her best to sound casual about it. "All right, but promise me we'll see you soon, OK?" She did and he hung up the phone.

The man on the sofa flicked the remote control and the television went black.

"You awake?" She nodded. "Monish said to wake you up but I thought that would be rude. I'm in no hurry." He motioned for her to come closer. She crawled across the sofa, big tits swinging gently underneath her. "Mmmm.mmm! I love them melons on you. Come on over here and put 'em in my face."

Diane climbed onto his lap, raised herself up slightly so he could suck on her right nipple. She felt his cock stiff underneath her leg. He moved himself around until he'd slid the towel off. His cock slid easily into her wet cunt and he moaned. "Damn, yo' soaked!" Still half asleep, Diane let herself enjoy his mouth on her nipple, his cock inside her. She opened herself as wide as she could, felt him bottom deep inside her pussy. "Bite me," she whispered and he did. "Harder." She felt him pumping faster. She clenched her pussy around the base of his cock. "Harder, harder, harder..." she kept muttering until he jerked hard and came inside her. He pulled his head back and she groaned loud, "oh please, come on, I have to cum! Bite me, bite me!" He pushed her off and stood up, staring at her there on the sofa, legs splayed wide, belly trembling, face desperate. "Phew! I sure got my money's worth." He picked up his pants and shirt from the end table and pulled them on while she watched, angry and horny. "See ya next time, skank."

Diane lay there for ten minutes, eyes closed, one leg hanging off the cushion, the other over the back of the sofa. A small stream of cum trickled out of her pussy, ran down her ass crack and onto the material. She got up and looked at it, thought about wiping it up, thought 'who cares?' and walked toward the kitchen. Who cares, she thought. When you're a totally depraved cum hole who will let anyone do anything they want to you, who the hell cares if your sofa has cum stains on it? In fact, it *should* have cum stains on it. She pictured herself walking back to the soft, opening her legs wide and wiping herself up and down the cushions, soaking them with the cum dripping out of her. She shook her head and went into the kitchen.

She poured herself a glass of orange juice and found a cup of yogurt. As she ate, she noticed there was a message on the phone. She pressed the button. It was Carol. Carol was concerned as well, hadn't heard from her and wondered if everything was all right. Diane would call her back later, set her mind at ease, lie to her too. She was lying to everyone around her, trying to hold her life together. Vader. Rodrigo. Now Lars and Carol. Everything was a lie and it was all because of Monish. The bastard was destroying her little by little.

She took two of the yellow pills and felt better, showered and got dressed. There were no messages from Monish, she had the day free. Diane went shopping for food for the week. It was a little bit futile, she nearly never ate at home anymore, she'd thrown away more food then she'd eaten in the last three weeks, but it gave her a temporary feeling of normalcy. She took her time in the store, fingering cantaloupes, picking canned soups, searching for her favorite ice cream. She noticed that she was looking up and down the aisles a lot, dismissed it as being nervous. She carried the bags to her car, then drove to a coffee shop, ordered a cappuccino and a slice of carrot cake. She noticed that her hand was trembling as she cut into the cake, stopped and took a breath. She looked around, anxious again. What if she ran into someone? One of Monish's customers? Someone who knew about her other life? She took a bite of the cake, couldn't taste it. Someone on the street stopped and looked in the window, looked at her. She thought she recognized his face. He smiled. She lowered her eyes, poked at the cake. Was he one of the men from Johnstown? She thought back to the second orgy, the line of men around her, taking turns on top of her while she lay there with her legs spread wide and moaned and... she shook her head. Focus! She looked out the window. The man was gone. She'd been wrong. She took another bite of the cake but it was flat, tasteless. She set the fork down, pushed the coffee away. Even these simple pleasures were lost now. She couldn't stop the flood of sexual images from creeping into her head with the slightest provocation.

As she drove home, her mind drifted back to the marble column in the apartment. The scrawny little man named Taylor. The whip with the knots in it. She remembered how it felt to completely abandon herself to his will, knowing he was not going to stop, knowing there was nothing she could say, so just slipping into another universe of pain and surrender. He didn't know, she couldn't let him know, that she'd nearly cum as she ground her pussy against the column. She thought of Bailey, how he'd handed her over to Taylor, not knowing how far he was going to go. Interested only in protecting his own job. She was just a thing to her, a thing he could use to get Taylor off her back. She stopped at a red light and looked down, the crotch of her pants showed a small dark spot. The memory of Taylor's flogging was turning her on. She leaned her head against the steering wheel, didn't look up until the driver behind her laid on her horn.

She drove home wondering what Monish had in mind for her tonight. Who would he hand her over to? How far would they go? Could she get Bailey to bring Taylor back. She froze. No! Taylor was insane, he only stopped because he *was* stopped. He would have taken that whip to her tits. She imagined the picture. Herself tied to that pillar, Taylor in front of her, raising his arm, the explosive slice of pain across her chest. She put her hand between her legs and started rubbing herself, felt the dampness with the tip of her finger.

As she unloaded the groceries, she kept looking at the telephone. When would he call? She wished she had Saabira's number. She could casually ask about coming over again. Maybe Masozi would be there. Maybe she could convince Saabira to phone her.

Diane's head swum. No. She couldn't initiate, it would be all wrong, they'd do it all wrong. She opened one of the cans of soup and made herself a small dinner salad, kept the telephone nearby. It's sick, she told herself. These are blackmailers. I need to get back to Lars, need to get back to normal kink players, not these perverts Monish was pimping her out to.

She thought about phoning Lars but didn't. She was paralyzed. Monish might call her at any time and she'd have to cancel on Lars. She was trapped. Monish ran her entire world now, her universe. Everything she thought about pointed right back to him. He was the key to everything. Everything going forward depended on what kind of mood he was in, how he wanted to use her, whether he wanted her to keep her job or not. She ate the soup and salad and drank a glass of wine, waiting for the phone to ring but nothing happened.

Monday and Tuesday at work were very stressful for Diane. Bailey told her that Taylor had reneged on his promise and had in fact taken photos of her this time at the apartment. Diane's stomach twisted, she was now being blackmailed by a pervert who thought he was a captain on the high seas, meting out punishment with his evil knotted whip, working himself into a lather, taking out forty five years of sexual frustration on the territory of her back.

Vader and Rodrigo seemed to be consciously avoiding her. Around lunchtime Tuesday, Carol had called and left her a message that she got a strange phone call from a man named Monish. He'd asked her how Diane was doing. Diane tried to assure her that it was probably a wrong number, just a weird coincidence but she knew better. Monish was sending her a signal, just reminding her who owned her, who made her decisions now.

Tuesday night at ten, Diane heard a car pull into her driveway. She'd been sitting at the kitchen table, a half-eaten bowl of soup in front of her, sipping on her second glass of wine. She heard footsteps on the walkway, then heard the front door open. Three men came in, all faces she recognized from Monish's crew. She didn't bother standing up, just turned and looked at them. She hadn't been touched in nearly three days and was ready for anything.

Two of the men held her arms and the third unbuttoned her blouse, undid her bra. He took a measuring tape out of his pocket and wrapped it around her, measuring her bust, jotting the number down in a notepad. He took two head-on and two profile photographs with a pocket camera, then the three of them walked out, got into their car and drove away.

Diane noticed she was flushed with heat, her nipples hard, her pussy soaked. She needed to do something, she needed to fuck someone - something. She thought about herself on her back on a mattress somewhere, a tongue between her legs. She closed her eyes and touched herself. The tongue was Katie's. And standing over her, watching both of them, was Masozi. She gave no sign she approved or disapproved, she just watched and stared. Diane took her hand away from her crotch and went into the den. She flipped open her computer and started surfing the chat rooms. She found herself flicking from one to another lesbian chat, introducing herself to different women, offering to "go private for one on one" with them. Nobody took her up on it and her frustration grew.

She spent another hour surfing video sites. Lesbian S&M, picturing herself on her back on the tables, on her knees taking the dildoes, knees spread wide so they could attach weighted clamps to her cunt lips then made her walk around the room, waddling like a duck, the round lead balls swinging between her knees.

She surfed over to one of the S&M chat sites. She had to create an account, had to sign up for a one-week introductory membership ($9.95), and found herself talking to three other people, all submissives. She went to another and opened an account for free. This time, there were dozens of names but whenever she went one-on-one with someone, it turned out to be a pay-per-minute ad. She laughed. Here she was, hot, frustrated and available, and completely unable to find anyone on the entire planet who wanted to play with her.

Diane changed her approach and went to the local singles sites. She flitted from room to room, starting conversations, offering to upload pictures of herself from a variety of sessions. She did that four times before she realized that once the person on the other end had the pictures, they were gone. Probably off to a bathroom to jerk off. A real live woman on the other end of the wire was too much for them, they ran off to their little hidey-holes to play with themselves and her pictures.

She finally found someone who wanted to have a one-on-one conversation. They connected by voice and he spent half an hour talking to her about his fantasies with ice skaters. She tried to get into it, tried to play a fantasy game, but it was boring, mundane.

She looked at the clock. It was four-thirty in the morning. Diane shook her head. She'd been up all night trying to find someone to fuck her and she'd failed miserably. And if she didn't get at least a little sleep, she'd be a wreck tomorrow.

Just as she was saying goodbye to the current room, someone pinged her. "You're local?" the screen typed. She took a quick breath. "Yes." "Need a quick fix?" "Yes." "What do you do?" "Anything you want." "anything?" "anything."

The person on the other end gave her an address and signed off. Diane looked up directions. It was less than twenty minutes away. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that this was stupid and dangerous, but it was a much quieter voice than the one between her legs. She put on a black bra and panty set and a red dress and drove across town to the address. When she got there, she saw that the house was dark. She walked to the porch and looked into the front window. The inside was dark but there was a soft blue glow coming through an open door just barely visible. She knocked on the window. There was no answer. She knocked again. There was movement inside now, a figure came through the door and she saw it get bigger as it headed her way. The front porch light flicked on and she heard the door open. A middle aged man with a big pot belly and long, thinning hair opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. He was wearing a pair of cotton striped pajama bottom and a dirty athletic shirt that left his big hairy gut exposed.

"You can't be here," he said anxiously. Diane looked at him, torn between the desire in her cunt and her revulsion at the man's appearance. She noticed the outline of his half-stiff cock through the material and her cunt won. She said "let's go inside." The man's eyes got wider and he waved his hand. "You can't be here," he repeated. Then, someone pushed him out onto the porch. He stumbled and fell off the porch and onto the sidewalk. A short, wiry woman lunged through the door and at Diane. "You fuckin' whore, you're back?" she screamed, raising her arm. Diane saw that she had a leather belt in her hand, folded double. She swung it and hit Diane's raised arm. "Get the fuck off my property! Go on!" She swung again and hit Diane across the hip. She stumbled backward, pushed her way through a bush and ran to her car. "And STAY out!" the woman screamed. Then, she turned to her husband and raised the belt again. Diane sped out of the driveway and into the night.

At work the next day, Bailey told her that Taylor was going to see them again on the weekend, she should do what she can to be prepared. She had to hold her excitement in, if Taylor ever got wind of that, it would be over, he would go crazy on her. So, she begged Bailey to change Taylor's mind, promise whatever he needed to so he would change his mind.

Vader avoided her again, came by once to drop off some paperwork but just dropped it on her desk and kept walking. Diane was concerned. Did he know something? Or was Bailey telling him things? Was her job in jeopardy?

She had lunch at a cafe a few doors down from the office. The woman who served her was a tall, muscular black woman wearing skin tight pants and a loose blouse. Diane stared at her bottom, picturing Masozi, naked and glistening that first night. She thought about Masozi's pussy, the way it tasted and felt against her face, the flood of liquid that soaked her mouth and chin and ran down her body, soaking her belly, thighs, knees...

"Do you know what you want?" the waitress asked again. Diane blushed red, she noticed she was staring at the woman's crotch, less than two feet away. She looked up and saw the condescending look on the waitress's face. "For lunch," she added with a growl.

"Y...yes, I...the tuna sandwich," Diane stammered. The waitress walked to the kitchen, turned back and saw she'd guessed right, Diane was staring at her ass in the tight outfit. She snorted and walked into the kitchen.

Diane wanted to get up and run but couldn't. Her legs wouldn't respond, she was paralyzed in the chair. She tried to think of ways to get back in touch with Katie, Saabira, or possibly Masozi. She was afraid to go to her directly, she wanted to go through one of the others. But how?

The waitress brought the sandwich, leaned forward in an exaggerated way to hand it to Diane. "Like the view?" she sneered. Diane blushed. She was right, Diane's eyes had been focused on her cleavage since she came through the kitchen door. She sat the plate on the table. Diane heard her whisper "fucking dyke" as she walked away. She felt a gush of wetness between her legs as she took a deep breath and drank in the smell of the sandwich.

CHAPTER 16

Monish sent a limo for her at five. He was in the back seat with two others, the driver hidden behind the sliding glass. They drank and talked, ignoring her. Diane asked Monish if he'd heard anything from that Saabira woman. Monish laughed and teased her. "You like her, hey?" Diane shook her head but didn't say anything. "Well, I'm sorry if you do. They ain't on my list no more. They told me they were gonna set me up with a three day show for you, some kind of lesbian S&M festival. Five thousand dollars. Then, they pulled out on me. I already spent that fuckin' money, fucking cunt-ass bitches!" He growled it and Diane flinched, pushed herself back into the corner of the limo and stayed quiet the rest of the trip. She was never going to see them again.

... let me know if you want more...