William Davis - Blackmailed

Sprawling there on the bed, where he had shoved her down, Carla's legs were splayed, obscenely, and he could see the pink flesh of her pussy, glistening dully moist and palpitant in the dim light of the bedroom.

Inside his shorts, his massive erection stirred and jerked involuntarily, and Carla's eyes were glued to the spot, her interest intense.

This man's lips, tongue and hands had ignited a slow fuse that was sputtering away in her, and she was trapped in a morass of ecstatic sensations that raced through her voluptuous body in waves of erotic anticipation. The thing that really bothered her… and the reason she didn't want to become involved, this afternoon… was the telephone call she had received just before Jay's arrival. It was Joan who had called… and Carla had convinced her to come to her apartment that same afternoon. She had already agreed to having Jay there… but she hated to turn him away and lose the money. She hated worse the fact that he had turned out to be so ardent. Now… I'm all worked up… and I'll have to go through with it! Not that she didn't like the idea of being turned on by a man; she had been thinking of Joan, and the delicious things she had in mind for her. It had been farthest from her mind that she'd be responding to Jay… but she was. There was nothing she could do about it… now… She just hoped that she could get rid of him… before Joan arrived.

A mewling hum of anticipation emitted from her throat, as her eyes devoured him, watching the lurch of the outsized bulge in his shorts. Then, her own hands, well-manicured and lotion-softened, slid, sinuously, up over her body to the full moons of her breasts, where her fingers played, narcissistically, with the distended, berry-like buds of her nipples, the darker pink of their aureoles drawing up in sensitive wrinkles of soft flesh.

"God!" she moaned, finally, anxious for him to go on now, "Get your shorts off… so you can start fucking me… with that big cock of yours!"

While Jay had been watching her, he had reached back of him, to get the object he needed, from his shirt pocket. Now, he held it behind him, a lewd smile of anticipation on his face. She's hot… already… and it won't be long… now… before she'd be crawling up the walls!

Carla closed her eyes, expecting that he would be on top of her, digging and poking at her body and shoving his hard cock into her cunt. Then, he'd fuck her for all he was worth… until he came, frantically… and that would be that…

… But, it didn't happen that way!

She was caught by surprise, as the unexpected happened. Her body jerked, spasmodically, involuntarily, at the light, tickle of something that was moving inch by tortuous inch up the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, heading, she knew for the pulsating portal of her cuntal passage that gaped open to him, because of her obscenely splayed thighs.

Her eyes flew open, widening, as she gaped down to where Jay was leaning over her, a gaily colored blue and green peacock feather held in his fingers, lightly, as he twirled it, teasingly, on her vibrant, sex-tingling flesh. Instantly, she clamped her legs together.

"What the hell… do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

Jay grinned down at her, salaciously. "Getting you good and ready… for some wild fucking!" he told her, and went right on with his tantalizing torture of her, dragging it now up the valley of her close-held thighs.

Instinctively, her hands flew to her pubic mound, protectively, knowing in a flash that if he were actually to use the feather on her cunt there would be no end to her arousal… and she didn't want that. She still held the image, in her mind, of the expected pleasures she would have with the dark-haired Joan… when she arrived.

"My God, Jay… don't do that… to me!"

"Why not…?" he grunted. "It feels good… doesn't it?"

"Yes… but it's torture!"

"Not really! This'll turn you on… like nothing you've ever had before!" he grated, intent on what he was doing. "So you might as well lie back and enjoy it… for a while!"

Catching up her hands by the wrists, in a steel-fingered grasp, he pulled them away from the pulsating slit of her pussy.

"Now… open your legs!" he ordered.

"No! I-I won't let you do it!"

"I've paid you… in advance… you little whore!" he bellowed. "And, I'll do what the hell I please! Understand?"

Carla understood. She slowly relaxed the muscles of her thighs, to allow them to spread apart for his idea of fun. It could be worse! She told herself. At least… he's not one of the weird ones with whips… and crazy clothes!

The detective's triumph over her gave him a definite edge, now. Damn! It won't be long… until she's begging for mercy! Then… we'll see…

Jay released her hands, then, and focusing his full attention on what he was doing, began to tantalize her naked flesh with the peacock feather.

Groaning with helplessness, Carla felt the teasing lightness of the soft tip of the feather, as it tracked tiny circles of fire on the smooth skin of her inner thighs, darting into the hollows on either side of her sparsely hair fringed cuntal lips. She could have screamed with the excruciating torment, as it moved, relentlessly, toward its obvious target, through a deviously tortuous route.

Inexorably, the feather in his hand moved closer and closer, until finally, it trailed into the coralline moistness of her vaginal furrow, fringed, lightly, with the soft auburn curls of her pubic hair. Around and around he twisted it, dipping into her cuntal opening, momentarily, only to drag it, between the inner, petal-like lips that had begun to flower open with blood engorgement, and as he watched with lewd satisfaction he saw them begin to turn to a darker shade of pink.

Never had Carla experienced such an ecstatically sexy, nerve-charged, exciting sensation. She writhed on the bed, her hips undulating up to that torturing feather, and her breath came in uncontrolled, short, sharp pantings, as she felt him thrust it, twirlingly, in and out of her moist cuntal passage, igniting searing flames of desire that raced, unchecked in her nerve endings, like an all-consuming prairie fire, leaping before a strong wind and destroying all in its path.

She was ready… and already she had had enough of the feather, as she became aware of the slippery, warm moisture that exuded from the inner walls of her vaginal tunnel to ooze in viscid droplets into her cuntal portal. God! She was on fire with a desire she had never before felt.

"Oh, my God… Jay! Stop it! I can't stand it!" she groaned. "Stop playing around with me… and fuck me… damn it!"

"Later… Baby!"

Jay wasn't about to stop… yet; he wanted her completely helpless… He twisted the feather farther into the moist depths of her cent; then finally, after long moments it left her vagina and pirouetted upward to dance through the sparse, auburn fringe to the pulsating bud of her erectile clitoris, hidden in the defile of her womanly slit. He moved it, tormentingly, up and down the short length of the miniature phallus, coming to rest with a twirling motion on the sensitive triangle of its blood-engorged, sensitive head. She stifled a scream. Never, ever, had she experienced such exquisite agony… and joy, at the same time. She killed the building scream, in her throat, because she wouldn't allow him to know that he had subjugated her with an insignificant feather.

The peacock feather, in Jay's hand, danced teasingly on her throbbing clitoris for only a few moments, and just at the point when she was sure she could stand no more of it, the lust-inciting feather was suddenly gone. Then, she felt it trailing up through the fleecy softness of her pubic hair, across her abdomen and out over the flat, white plane of her smooth belly, dipping with a saucy twirl into the shallow depression of her navel and moving out to her groin to tantalize the soft hollows there.