The Diary of a Femdomme – Chapter 3 [CNC] [Blackmail] [Humiliation]
452 0 2
X
Reading Options
Font Size
A- 15px A+
Width
Reset
X
Table of Contents
Loading... please wait.

"Well the problem is" - she begins, after listening for a while - "the only way to resolve this is to instruct a Solicitor and realistically, we're looking at least 80 hours of my time working on this - that's paperwork, statements, court submissions, everything, not including disbursements. You're in some serious shit here."

Sat on the conference room across from her, he looks concerned. He is way over his head. There was no way he ever imagined it to be this serious.

"How much will that cost me?"

"80 hours at £242 an hour, that's a minimum of around £20k", she reads off her calculator.

"oh my god, I really can't afford that, at all"

"Well we operate on a sliding scale, but even at the lower end of the scale, you're still going to need around ten thousand"

"Is there anywhere else I can go?"

"Probably not, you need me for this. If you do it yourself you'll get it wrong and you'll end up losing everything-"

"But I'm already going to lose everything!"

Some silence hangs in air.

"I'll tell you what, you're a nice looking boy, and given all the hours I work, it's been so long since anybody has even smelt me, let alone tasted me."

"...wh-what?"

"Come on, get on your knees like a good boy. I'm allowing you to earn my services by providing yours"

"But.. what? I can't, that's.."

"That's fine, you can leave. Good luck!"

"...but I can't just.. go... I need your help"

She stands up, and as she does so she calmly straightens out the wrinkles in her grey, pencil skirt. She walks slowly around the conference room table, and using the back of her index finger, strokes his cheek.

"...and I need yours"

"Well... what.. what would I need to do?"

"Right now, I want you to get under the table whilst I fill out these forms on your behalf, and I want to feel that pretty tongue pulling my panties to the side, and bringing me to orgasm at this table. Have you got much experience eating pussy?" she says, with a change of tone.

He's flush. He can barely maintain eye contact.

"Not.. really, no"

"Well I hope you do a good job."

"Like.. now?"

"Yes now, get under the fucking table... or the door is behind you, press the button on the left to open the door"

He stares into the void for a few moments, weighing his options. Tepidly, he gets on his knees and crawls along the rough carpet, and she approaches her chair, she pinches the sides of her skirt so as she sits down, the skirt rises up to her waist, exposing her soft, white cotton panties.

She reaches for the stack of papers next to her, takes the pen from her suit jacket, and begins to write.

"It's waiting" she says flatly, almost indifferently.

He moves closer and takes a deep breath of her panties - fresh cotton, warm, her.

His head is running wild. "This is so fucked up, what the fuck? what am I even.. how can I.. fuck"

"Jesus Christ" she exclaims, reaches under the table grabbing his hair so tightly it begins to sting his scalp, pulling him towards her, removing his ability to talk himself out of his internal conflict. "Eat. My. Pussy", she commands.

His tongue wriggles underneath her panties, and begins to slowly and steadily, taste her - taking in her scent, her moisture, her warmth - with long, and slow strokes from the very top to the very bottom of her clitoral hood. Every time his tongue reaches the lowest part, it slides between her labia, collecting some of her lubricant on the tip, and spreads it over her clit with each rise of his tongue.

Her phone vibrates on the table. "Keep going, do not stop." she instructs.

From under the table, he can hear her conversation. "Hi Paul, I'm just with a client at the moment, can I give you a call back later? ..... Probably not too long, no.... maybe an hour? .... okay no worries, chat later". Click.

"Can I stop now?" he pauses. "My tongue is aching"

"Shall I stop filling out these forms?"

"No" he mutters

"Then also no", she offers sweetly, if threateningly.

"But I don't-"

Grabbing his hair again, harder than last time, an aggressive and firm grip, she pulls him back against her pussy.

"I don't give a fuck" she snaps.

He pulls his head back, which only hurts him more but he just has to object - "but this isn't-"

"FOR FUCK SAKE", she rolls her chair back. "You've just fucking told me everything. Do I need to tell them what you told me when you were sat sobbing in the chair 10 minutes ago?". She doesn't blink. She doesn't break eye contact. He knows she is being fucking serious, he doesn't know how many laws and standards her doing this violates.

Defeated, he slowly shakes his head.

"I'm already sick of listening to you complain and you're supposed to be unable to talk, you weren't that fucking good at it anyway", she asserts. "Fucking..." and with that, still grabbing his hair, pulling him out from under the table on all fours, she throws him back. He can feel the immediate pain subside, but the lingering burning is still there, the adrenaline and shock and horror fills his mind, he couldn't speak now if he wanted to. His arms and hands tremble. She removes her panties, standing over him with her pussy exposed.

"I can see your lip going", she smirks. "Are you going to break? Are you going to cry? Already? Are you giving up? Giving in? Do you have £20k to get out of this mess?" without even giving him a moment to answer. He's well and truly rumbled, he knows it, he hates it. He just wishes something, anything, would happen to let him escape this situation. A phone call. A knock on the door. A fire alarm. Anything.

She kneels over him, knowing no help is coming for him. These are confidential meetings. They all know not to disturb when she is consulting with a client. The cameras are off. The door is sealed. The conference room is sound-proofed. The only way out are the red panic buttons dotted around the room - then they would both be

Her hand grabs his t-shirt from the front, pulling the buttons and his collar into a ball in her fist, and pushes him down to the floor as she straddles his hips.

"Please, please, you don't have-"

Inhaling and rolling her eyes, she takes her panties with her free hand and pushes them into his mouth. He screams but it's entirely ineffective. He struggles, he panics, he can taste her, he's helpless. The tears drip down his face as she uses her fingers to push every single fibre of her panties into his mouth, filling it completely.

"You were fucking terrible with your tongue", she snarls. "I can tell you were out of practice, and you have to pay your bills somehow".

Reaching behind her, she pulls down his sweatpants and his underwear with her hand, not entirely surprised that he is rock hard.

"Are you hard?!" she laughs

"Oh my God! How fucking pathetic even are you?!"

He mumbles frantically, muffled by the cotton, his red, swollen eyes wide open, shaking his head.

"hahaha fucking hell. I mean, it's not..." she pauses while she grabs his cock and inspects with her hand, "its... well, I guess it'll have to do".

Her pussy swallows his cock whole. Every single inch. All the way inside her. She can feel his legs trying to kick her off, trying to shake her, but he's not strong enough to move her whole body weight, all he's managing to do is grind his pubic hair against her clit, tickling it, stimulating it, as her pussy grips his cock and fills her from the inside.

Her hips begin to rock forwards and backwards, pulling herself up and down his shaft, a few inches with each thrust.

"Your tongue got me so worked up, but it just wasn't enough" she talks at her silent, resigned, reluctant, partner. "This is what I need right now though", she purrs, letting her head roll back to the ceiling, and her eyes closed as the cock inside her presses into the walls of her pussy. "I'll give you credit where it's due though-" her phone vibrates again.

She places her finger over her lips and gives him a "sssh", smiling.

"How.. how can she be fucking making jokes? who the fuck is this? what the fuck is happening? Why can't I just do something?" he pleads with himself.

"Hi Paul" she answers energetically. "No it's fine, he's just filling out some forms.... why what are they claiming? .... Does it say that on the Part 14 form? ... Yeah I can wait ... ". She continues to hump this whimpering little slut from above, bringing herself to closer orgasm - more consistent, stable motions, back and forth, back and forth, up and down.

The sensations across his body are all-consuming - violation in a way he's never experienced, fear on a deep biological level, scared for the situation he's got himself into, being milked against his will, blackmailed for dick. "... right well that's not what she said in her first statement, so she's clearly full of shit, and there's no way that's going to get signed off on, can you... Can you dig up the.. can you dig up the original statement and attach it to our - uh - our submissions? ... okay, thanks!". Click. The phone is dropped carelessly onto the floor.

"Fucking hell" she pants, "I was so fucking close then, you nearly made me cum on the phone!"

He grunts something through the panties. She leans forward, face-to-face, she's on all fours on top of him, her whole body pulling her pussy back and forth along his cock. The whole length of the shaft, reaching her cervix. The tip of his cock leaking his reluctant, horrified precum inside her.

"Oh fuck I'm nearly there, I can feel it, I'm going to cum on your cock - you're going to make me cum".

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

As he looks up at her, taking advantage of him from the very beginning, he watches her tits bouncing through her blouse, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, as her pussy firmly contracts around his cock, feeling her climax on his dick, the dick she forcibly took from him.

"Fuuuuucckkkkkkkkk" she releases.

The sights, smells, and the feelings running through his body overwhelm him, and he watches her pent-up sexual frustrations unleashing over his gentials, the more he tries to hold himself back from climax, the closer he gets, the harder it becomes to control himself. "please please please dont cum, don't, don't, don't cum" he begs himself.

She takes a deep breath, and clearly satiated, she lifts herself up from the floor, and in doing so, for the last time, pulls her tight pussy along the full length of his shaft - and unfortunately for him, pulling him over the edge of orgasm. With panties stuffed in his mouth, his Solicitors juices covering his hips, thighs, and genitals, having just been raped, his cock twitches in the room and releases rope after rope of cum into the cold, empty air.

"Fucking pathetic", shaking her head. Sneering, looking literally and figuratively down on him.

She whips her panties out of his mouth and he takes a deep, sharp intake of breath.

"What the fuck..." he whimpers, "that.. that was my first time...."

"I could tell" she responds, casually, as she pulls her now spit-soaked panties over her legs, pulls down her skirt, and adjusts herself using the reflection of her phone. He takes the opportunity to pull his own underwear and sweatpants over himself, hiding his cum-riddled body, his shame.

"Get in the chair, sign that and stay there", she demands, handing him the pen and piece of text filled, jargon populated, paper, one that he struggles to read and make sense of. He makes a scribble on the dotted line.

She collects the paperwork, placing it into her bag, and returns her pen back into the inside pocket of her suit jacket. She calmly and professionally walks to the door, presses and presses her ID badge against the lock, which releases with a magnetic clunk.

Walking down the hall from the conference room, she notes the posters lining the wall which highlight the importance of her services and spots the person she needs to speak to just entering the men's bathroom - "Officer!" she says, and he waits with the gents door half open.

"Look-" she offers, "my client is in an absolute state right now, he's in there crying and exhausted. You and I both know that this isn't really going to go anywhere, you have very limited evidence and it'll never make it past the CPS. He didn't really even need to consult with me, so I'm going to go home; let him sober up in his cell, here's his pre-signed paperwork for the caution you can offer to him in the morning and then you'll never see him again".

The officer nods his head, "yeah, fair enough, thanks for that!"

"No worries!" she extends, leaving the officer to his duties.

2