Forced Erotica

by Emmie Combs

  I had many visits to her apartment over the next couple of years, and many of those visits yielded the same results. She continued to torment me and use me however she saw fit. Rarely did I have an orgasm that wasn't associated with pain or in my own mouth. It was with sadness and relief when she took a job in another town and moved away. I had grown accustomed to being her bitch and I was turned on by her tormenting and humiliating me. She would continue to black mail me on occasion, whenever it suited her needs. I would occasionally get an email instructing me to put on panties and email her a picture, and one time she made me jerk off with icy hot and email her the pictures as proof. But the emails started to come with less frequency and eventually not at all.

  After a couple of years, I got a phone call from her out of the blue. I was shocked to hear her voice. She had another slave and had a special treat in store for him. She was going to make him suck a cock. She told me that I still belonged to her, so I was going to be the one to get my dick sucked by another guy. I was horrified at the thought, but Jeanine told me that she had a ton of pictures of me and that I had better do as she said. She told me she could easily post those pictures to one of the many sites online that catered to men wearing panties, or caught jerking off, or eating their own cum. I had no choice but to agree. She told me that they were going to come and stay in my hotel, and that is where it would take place.

  Leading up to the date, Jeanine sent me a package with a new pair of panties and a note instructing me to wear them for when they arrived. I was nervously anticipating the day, and it soon arrived. I waited at work until late for them to check-in, but eventually decided to head home as they had not yet arrived. The following morning, I had an email from Jeanine. It instructed me to come up to her room at 10:00 that morning and to have my panties on. At 10:00 sharp, I left my office and headed to her room.

  Jeanine met me at the door and invited me in. I nervously asked her where the guy was, noting the closed bathroom door, but she told me that he bailed at the last minute. She decided to come anyways so that she could have some fun with me. I was instructed to strip down to my panties and get on the bed. She tied me to the bed and proceeded to bust my balls and smother me. She rode my face to orgasm and then untied me. She pulled a chair up and told me to sit down. She tied my hands behind the chair and tied my ankles to the legs. She pulled my cock out of the side of my panties and started stroking it. She asked me if I wanted to cum and I begged her to let me. "You can come out now, Jim", she called. I was shocked and didn't quite know what was going on. This guy steps out of the bathroom and walks over to us. She puts her hand on his cock and starts stroking it and I'm shocked at how huge it is. She looked down at my cock, and made comment that she was aware of how much smaller mine was. I was nervous as I anticipated what was about to come. I had never imagined allowing a guy to suck my cock. It didn't turn me on at all. But Jeanine had another surprise in mind for me. Sensing my puzzled look, she said "Not to worry, George. Jim isn't going to be sucking your cock. I decided that you are going to suck his. Now open your mouth and take that big fat cock in". I felt all of the blood drain from my face as I realized she wasn't joking. I also knew that I was tied up and completely vulnerable and could do nothing to prevent what was about to happen. Jeanine went to her purse and pulled out her camera. She reached down and squeezed my balls, and again told me to open my mouth. Unable to take the pain any longer, I opened my mouth and Jim stuck his fat cock in. Jeanine squealed with laughter and started snapping pictures of me sucking his cock. She told me I better make him cum or else these pictures would definitely be posted on the internet.

  Not knowing what else to do, I sucked Jim for all that I had. Partly because I didn't want those photos to ever be posted anywhere, and partly to get it over with as quickly as possible. Jeanine grabbed the back of my head and pumped me back and forth on his cock. I was gagging as his big dick slid further down my throat. Jim finally shot his load and Jeanine held me there until I swallowed every last drop. She took a few more pictures of me and then took my cock in her mouth and sucked me off to an incredible orgasm.

  Jeanine and Jim disappeared into the bathroom and I could hear them taking a shower. I struggled to get free, but eventually gave up. After about 20 minutes, they both came out and she told Jim to load up the car as they were leaving. When he left the room, she walked over to her bag and pulled something out. It was a piece of Styrofoam that was about 4 inches square and about a quarter of an inch thick with a smaller hole cut in the middle. She looked down at my now limp cock and smiled. She grabbed my balls and pulled them through the hole and then used her finger to poke my cock through so that my cock and balls were now sticking through the hole. She bent down and started to suck on my cock. Even though I had had an orgasm a short while ago, it didn't take long for my cock to swell to a full erection. As my cock grew in her mouth, I could feel the hole tightening around my cock and balls. She continued to suck me off for about another 10 minutes. Just as I was about to cum again, she stopped, leaving my hard cock pulsing in mid air.

  Jeanine smiled as she got the last of her things together. She pulled a pair of her panties out of her bag and shoved them in my mouth and secured it with a piece of duct tape. "I'm going to loosen your ropes slightly so that you have a chance to get free. If you don't, I suppose one of your housekeepers will find you. I'm going to let the front desk know that we will be staying another night, however we really aren't. I would say that your cock is swollen enough to where you won't be able to lose your erection at this point. You probably have about 4 hours or so before permanent damage will be done. " She kissed me on the forehead and walked out the door.

  I struggled with the ropes and looked down at my trapped cock that was now starting to turn purple. Panic was setting in as I knew I had to get free before someone found me like this. After about 3 hours, I finally got my hands free and was able to break the Styrofoam off of my now black cock. The blood started to circulate and I was thankful that no permanent damage was done.

  I haven't seen Jeanine since that day. She did send me an email once asking me if I had seen the pictures. I knew she had posted them somewhere online. It was her style and I wouldn't have expected anything less from her. Honestly, I couldn't blame her if she did. I continue to search the internet for the photos that I know she posted and could still blackmail me with to this day. She still holds me under her power. I long for her humiliation and torture. I long to see her powerful pussy over top of me....dominating me....as she makes me swallow my own load.

  The End.

  Three Strikes, I'm Out?

  My heart skipped a beat when the boss stopped by my cubicle, and I'm sure I blushed when his eye caught mine. I was on the phone with a client, and suddenly very conscious of my end of the conversation - especially when the boss smiled and gave me a thumbs up as he listened - but also eager to get off the phone so I could find out why he had stopped by to see me. My position was very much an entry-level one, so even though I knew him to be a hands-on leader, it was unusual that he'd stop by a cubicle like mine. For a moment, I indulged the thought that he would ask me out, but quickly focused on work again, conscious that he was listening carefully to my phone conversation.

  "Nice work, Bailey," he said, reaching out to shake my hand, "glad to hear such a professional approach with our clients over the phone!"

  "Wow, thanks, Mr..."

  "No need to be so formal, Bailey," he interrupted me, "please, call me Jason."

  "Oh, really? Well, thanks, Jason! So, what can I do for you?"

  "Well, I'm a little disappointed in you. You know we've been trying to put together a team for the softball league, and yet you don't share with me that you were a star on your college team?"

  "Well, that was a few years ago. And I don't know if I'd use the word 'star'..."

  "Are you kidding? We're not exactly a pro league, we need every decent player we can get! And once Laura in accounting spilled your secret, I looked up your colleg
e stats. If you hit only half as well as you did your senior year, you'd be a great addition to our lineup! Oh, and I really need a catcher I can count on."

  "So you're the pitcher?" I really hadn't thought much about playing since graduating two years back and deciding to focus on my career. But the thought of being able to play with Jason - I still couldn't believe he wanted me to call him Jason - was definitely a selling point. I'd had a huge crush on this guy since the first time we'd met.

  "That's me - pitcher, wrangler of new members of the team, pretty much a utility man when it comes to keeping this team running. So, are you in?"

  "Sure, count me in. When do we practice?"

  "Well, unfortunately I'll need you to jump right into a game - our first game is Friday. You up for it? Our next practice isn't until next Tuesday."

  "Sure, what the heck. Why not!"

  "Alright, I'll make sure we have a uniform for you tomorrow, and I'll e-mail you the full schedule and directions to the field where we play. Thanks so much, Bailey, knew I could count on you to be a team player - literally!"

  My phone rang again, and Jason said, "Alright, back to work - see you tomorrow!"

  *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

  I had to admit, it was exciting to be back on the field again, especially without the pressure of playing for a winning college team. A few of the colleagues I already knew greeted me when I arrived at the field that Friday evening, and I was quickly introduced to those I hadn't met. It was an odd feeling at first, putting on the catcher's gear, but I soon felt at home as I crouched behind the plate, awaiting the first delivery from Jason. I had a great top of the first, throwing out a runner who attempted to steal second, and was having a great time catching pitches again. Slow-pitch was a big adjustment from the fast-pitch I'd played in college, but I quickly remembered the pleasure of being part of a team, the joy of competition.

  Jason had put me in the lineup as the cleanup hitter, a vote of confidence which I wore proudly as I marched up to the plate for my first at-bat, with two of my teammates on base. Swing, strike one. Wow, I was way ahead of that pitch. I thought I'd made the adjustment by playing catcher, but apparently I was still off. Oh well, shake it off. Swing, strike two. OK, Bailey, calm down. I called time, stepped out of the batter's box, leaned the bat against my legs, and reached up to adjust my cap, tightening the hairband holding up my long blonde ponytail. Alright, this is it. Swing, strike three. I sulked back to the bench and hung my head. I hadn't struck out swinging since, like, ever!

  One at-bat was just one at-bat, I told myself. Harder to tell myself that when the game was over, and I'd gone 0-4. My teammates were fine with it - after all, it was my first game, and it was just for fun anyway! Oh, and we'd managed to win, in spite of my complete inability to hit anyone in. But my inner athlete had returned, the competitive spirit that had made me a successful college player, and I was humiliated by being unable to catch up to - or I should say, slow down for, the balloon pitches from the opposing pitcher.

  Jason found me still sitting on the bench after many of the other players had already headed home. "Hey, Bailey, don't be so hard on yourself - it's just a game!" He stood above me, resting one foot up on the bench next to where I was sitting.

  "Yeah, I know. I just can't believe how different it is to hit those slow pitches - guess I'm still used to the rhythm of the fast-pitch game, even after a few years away from playing!"

  "Well, I can tell that you're a very talented player - so it's just a matter of getting your timing down. You need to be a little more patient than you're used to, the ball just isn't coming at you as fast. I'd be happy to stick around for a while tonight if you'd like to work on your rhythm?"

  I looked up at him, was once again pulled in by his genuine smile, and nodded, smiling back, taking him up on the offer.

  We hung out at the field for at least another hour, Jason or I occasionally breaking down into laughter at my ridiculous swings, until I finally started to feel comfortable, hitting a few solid ground balls, ropes out to the outfield, and even, finally, a home run over the right-field fence.

  "On that note, Bailey, why don't we call it a night."

  "Thanks so much, Jason, I really appreciate your taking the time to do this!"

  "Hey, my pleasure. After all, we can't have our cleanup hitter swinging through every pitch, can we?"

  *-*-*-*-*-*-*

  What started out as a fairly innocent office crush quickly became an all-consuming passion. Not only was I seeing Jason at work, but every Tuesday night for practice, every Friday night for games. And I was in uncharted territory. Throughout my high school and college years, I'd always had guys falling all over me, always had a date - or more - whenever I wanted. I was the successful athlete with the great body, who looked equally good - and knew it - sliding into second or dancing at the club. Now, I was the one drooling over the cute, successful guy. And although we were spending lots of time together, and he was perfectly charming, he either wasn't interested, or was playing hard-to-get. And it was driving me up the wall: I had never had to practice the techniques of trying to win someone's affections, and I sucked at it!

  Jason was in his early 40s, had enjoyed great success in business, but not at the expense of his personal life - he was well-liked by employees and business partners alike, and enjoyed life to the fullest when he wasn't working. He was an avid runner, skier, active in many local community causes, and rarely said 'no' to a fun night out, whether a trip to the symphony with some of his wealthy older colleagues, or a visit to the pub for a few beers after a hard day of work.

  My first attempt to send him signals that I was interested in more than just catching his balls, was to select a few of my more revealing outfits to wear to the office, and then find excuses to be passing by his office or meet him as he got off the elevator. Whether it was my favorite red silk blouse which showed off my perfect breasts, or a short black skirt which left little of my long, athletic legs to the imagination, I rearranged my closet so that anything I picked would show off my great figure. Rather than putting my hair up, as I often did for work, I let it down, showing off my long blonde locks. Similarly, although I often wore glasses to the office, knowing I'd spend several hours working at the computer, I began wearing my contacts instead, showing off my big blue eyes.

  Let's just say, it backfired. Not that Jason didn't notice - he did. I felt warm and tingly each time I felt his eyes moving over my body, enjoying the view that I was so eager to show him. And not that Jason didn't appreciate - he did. But even as he asked me out - after enjoying several days worth of these outfits - I was once again feeling out of my element: rather than having him wrapped around my little finger, I was wrapped around his.

  "You know, Bailey, you don't need to dress like that to get my attention. It's much more effective to leave something to the imagination. And if you're going for a sexy office look, you should really stick with the glasses. But hey, I appreciate the effort. What time should I pick you up Saturday night?"

  "Um, really? I mean, um, how about 7?"

  We had a delightful time that Saturday evening, went out for dinner and drinks and then to a dance club, where I discovered that among his many other talents, he was a great dancer. After enjoying ourselves on the dance floor, we talked for an hour or so over another round of drinks, and then he drove me home, walking me to the door of my apartment.

  "Well, Bailey, I had a lovely time, you're great company."

  "I had a wonderful time, Jason. Best night out in a long time. Would you like to..."

  He interrupted me before I could finish what I'm sure was an obvious question, "I'd better be going, Bailey. See you at the office on Monday." He leaned in, put his finger on my chin to raise my lips to meet his, and kissed me, warmly and softly, and then was off without another word.

  I let myself into my apartment and collapsed onto the sofa, confused. It was a perfect evening, and yet I was doubting myself. Let's just say, no man had ever left me at my doorway with
just a kiss after a great night out before. I may have left a guy, gone back to my place on the excuse of homework or a game the next day, but anytime I invited someone in, he unfailingly accepted.

  Strike one?

  *-*-*-*-*-*-*

  We began to see each other regularly outside of work - and softball - over the next few weeks, always having a wonderful time in each other's company, yet never progressing beyond the occasional kiss, embrace, or playful touch. After several of these encounters, my frustration growing, I decided it was time to try another tactic. I'd learned enough about him to venture an educated guess about what he might like in terms of playful dress-up, and I planned to surprise him on our next encounter.

  He was going to pick me up at 7:30 on a Saturday. Earlier that day, I made a trip to the mall to pick up the things I'd need to complement what I already had on hand, and by 7:15, I was dressed and ready for him. I'd found my old high school cheerleading uniform, which still fit - although my breasts had grown fuller since high school, so the top looked as if I'd chosen it specifically to show off my tits. My high school colors were blue and white, the uniform's top was a blue sleeveless v-neck, and the skirt was white, pleated, with blue trim. My trip to the mall had added to my wardrobe a matching blue bra and thong panties, as well as blue hair ties which I used to pull my hair up into ponytails.

  At 7:25 - Jason was always punctual, so I knew he'd arrive exactly at 7:30 if not one or two minutes earlier - I left my apartment, walked down the hall, right out the front door of the building, and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for him. If it wasn't such a quiet neighborhood, I probably wouldn't have risked it - but fortunately, as I'd guessed, Jason was the first person to see me when he arrived a few minutes later.