CHAPTER 3: BLACKMAIL BREEDING PT 1

Rebecca lay back against the soft pillows in the master bedroom, her sundress already pulled up around her waist. The room was quiet except for the low sounds coming from her laptop.

 She had propped it on the bed beside her. On the screen, a woman was on her knees in front of a powerful man, obeying his every command. 

Rebecca’s cheeks burned with shame, but she could not stop watching. Her right hand moved between her thighs, two fingers sliding slowly up and down her wet slit. Her left hand held the edge of the sundress higher, exposing her smooth pussy completely.

She circled her swollen clit with her fingertips, then pushed two fingers inside herself. 

A soft moan escaped her lips. The stretch felt good. Her juices coated her fingers and made wet sounds as she pumped them in and out. She kept her wide, innocent eyes fixed on the screen, breathing faster. 

Her full breasts rose and fell under the thin fabric of the sundress. Her nipples had hardened into stiff peaks that pressed visibly against the material. The bedroom smelled faintly of her arousal.

She spread her legs wider, knees bent, bare feet digging into the sheets. Her fingers moved faster now, making slick, obscene noises. Another moan slipped out, louder this time. 

“Yes…” she whispered, imagining herself in the woman’s place. 

She had never told her husband about these secret desires. The power, the control, the way the woman submitted completely. Her pussy clenched around her fingers as the video grew more intense.

The bedroom door was open. She thought she was completely alone. Her husband was gone until tomorrow night. She pushed a third finger inside, stretching herself, and gasped at the fuller feeling. Her hips rocked up to meet her hand. The wet sounds grew louder in the quiet room.

Marcus stood in the doorway, phone held up, recording everything. He had let himself in with the spare key to drop off some contracts his business partner, Rebecca’s husband had forgotten. He did not announce himself. 

He watched the 29-year-old housewife fuck herself with her fingers while moaning at the dirty video. Her sundress was bunched uselessly at her waist. Her pussy glistened with wetness under the bedroom lights. He captured every second: her flushed face, her spread legs, the way her fingers slid in and out, the soft desperate moans.

Rebecca’s eyes flicked toward the door. 

She froze. 

Horror flooded her face. Her fingers were still buried deep inside her pussy. She yanked her hand away, but it was too late. A thick string of her arousal stretched from her slit to her fingertips before breaking. She snapped her legs shut and pulled the sundress down frantically, but the laptop kept playing the explicit video behind her.

“M-Marcus!” she gasped, voice shaking. “What are you doing here? Get out!”

Marcus stepped into the room, calm and unhurried. He was tall and muscular, his shirt stretched tight across his broad chest.

 A cold smile played on his lips as he stopped at the foot of the bed. He turned his phone screen toward her. The video he had just recorded played clearly: Rebecca with her legs wide open, fingers pumping into her soaked cunt, moaning at the domination scene.

“Look at this,” he said, voice deep and steady. “So clear. Your face is unmistakable. Your pussy too.”

Rebecca’s heart hammered in her chest. Tears filled her wide eyes immediately. “Please delete that. Oh god, please. My husband can’t see this. He can’t.”

Marcus kept the phone in his hand and slowly walked around the side of the bed.

 Rebecca stayed on the mattress, knees pressed together tightly, sundress still rumpled high on her thighs. She could smell her own wetness in the air, strong now that she was no longer lost in pleasure.

“If your husband saw this,” Marcus continued, circling her slowly, “it would destroy everything. The perfect devoted wife touching herself to filthy domination p**n. Finger-fucking her married pussy while he’s away. Imagine the messages he’d get from friends if this got out, the shame, the divorce papers.”

Rebecca’s hands trembled in her lap. 

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m begging you, Marcus. Delete it, i’ll do anything. Please. It was just a private moment. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He stopped beside the bed, towering over her. His eyes moved slowly over her body, her flushed neck, her hard nipples poking through the sundress, the way her thighs pressed together. He did not touch her. Not yet.

“Anything?” he asked, voice low. He replayed a short clip on his phone: the exact moment she pushed three fingers inside herself and moaned loudly. The wet sounds were unmistakable.

“Yes,” Rebecca whispered desperately. “Anything. Money. Whatever you want. Just delete the video. Please don’t tell him.”

Marcus smiled wider. He walked to the other side of the bed, circling her again like a predator. The bedroom air felt thick. 

Rebecca’s pussy was still throbbing from her earlier touching, her juices smeared on her inner thighs. She could feel the wetness cooling on her skin.

“You don’t understand yet,” he said. “You don’t get to decide what ‘anything’ means anymore. From now on, you owe me complete obedience. Every time I call, every time I message, you answer. You do exactly what I say. No questions. No hesitation.”

Rebecca shook her head, tears falling faster. “Marcus, please… this isn’t fair. It was one time. I was alone. I…”

He held up the phone again and let the video play on speaker. Her own moans filled the bedroom. “Fair doesn’t matter. What matters is that I have this and I can send it to your husband in one tap, or post it somewhere it will never disappear. Your choice is simple: obey me, or lose everything.”

She covered her face with both hands, shoulders shaking. Her body still felt warm and sensitive from the masturbation. Her clit pulsed with leftover need, which only made her shame deeper. 

Marcus continued circling the bed slowly, his footsteps quiet on the carpet. He let the silence stretch, letting her feel the weight of what he held over her.

“Take your hands down,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”

Rebecca lowered her hands. Her eyes were red and wet, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her chest rose and fell quickly. The sundress had slipped slightly, exposing more of her soft thighs.

“Good,” Marcus said. “This is the first lesson. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?”

She nodded quickly, voice breaking. “Yes. I understand.”

He stopped at the end of the bed again, arms crossed over his muscular chest. “You’re going to wait for my first demand. It could come tonight. It could come tomorrow. Whenever I decide and when it does, you will not argue. You will not make excuses. You will obey like the woman in that video you were watching.”

Rebecca’s lips trembled. 

More tears slipped down, she could still taste the faint salt from her own fingers on her skin. The laptop screen had gone dark, but the memory of what she had been watching burned in her mind.

Marcus slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’m leaving now. Try to warn your husband or delete anything and it goes public.”

He turned toward the door. 

Rebecca stayed on the bed, a trembling mess. Her sundress was still bunched awkwardly, her pussy still exposed and wet beneath it. She did not dare move to cover herself until he was gone.

At the doorway, Marcus looked back one last time. “Think about how wet you were when I walked in. Think about how quickly you’re going to spread those legs when I tell you to. Sleep well, Rebecca.”

He closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Rebecca collapsed forward on the bed, burying her face in the pillows. 

Sobs shook her soft body and tears soaked the fabric. 

Between her legs, her pussy still ached with unwanted arousal. The shame sat heavy in her stomach, but the fear of what Marcus might demand next sat even heavier. She lay there for a long time, trembling, exposed, and completely trapped.