Lustful Bites: Quick & Dirty Erotic Shorts

Blackmailed: No Panties Allowed

The walk home was a blur. Leona kept her head down. The wet spot on her sleeve was cold. It was Aaron’s c*m. Every time it touched her skin, she felt a shock. It reminded her of her dirt.

She got to the house. “I have a headache,” she told her mom. She ran upstairs.

She locked the door. She sat at the desk. She looked at the white crust on her cuff. The smell—salty, man musk—went up to her nose. She knew she should not. But she put her wrist to her nose. She smelled it deep.

The rush was fast. Her cunt squeezed hard. It hurt. She needed it so bad she cried. The fever made everything feel too much. The air felt like sandpaper. Her clothes felt like a cage.

She stood up. Her legs shook. She went to the desk. The screen was black. She sat down. The chair creaked. She turned it on. The file was open. The cursor blinked.

She had to write it. She had to get the picture out of her head. Aaron’s d**k. Chloe’s noises. The c*m on her skin. If she wrote it, maybe she could stop shaking.

Her hands hovered over the keys. Then they moved.

“He did not care about the girl. He only cared about the hole. He f****d her like he hated her. I watched from the dark. My body cried. I wanted to be the one bent over. I wanted to be the one choking on his meat. I wanted him to look at me with dark eyes and see a hole to use.”

Leona stopped. She breathed hard. Her right hand went under her skirt. Her fingers found her slick, soft folds. She was soaking. She put two fingers in. She curled them. She moved them in and out. She pretended it was Aaron’s rough fingers.

“When he pulled out, it was a monster. Red and angry. He aimed it at the dark. At me. The heat of his spunk hit me like fire. I could feel it burn my clothes. He marked me. I was covered in him. I smelled like him. I was his c*m-slut.”

She was close. The fever made her head spin. The room looked like colors. She rubbed her c**t fast. Her hips moved up. She thought about Damian. Nice Damian doing this. No. Wrong. Damian would not do this. Only Aaron. The beast.

“God, I wanted to taste it,” she whispered to the room. “I wanted to lick the floor. I am dirty. I am bad. I need to be punished.”

With a sound in her shoulder, she came. Her walls squeezed her fingers. Waves of dirty pleasure crashed on her. She slumped in the chair. Sweat dripped on her face.

She sat there. Then she hit publish. She put her shame on the internet.

Ping.

A message popped up. Then the screen flickered. It went black.

White text showed up.

Leona, while you wrote that filth, were you rubbing your dirty little cunt?

Leona gasped. She moved back like the screen hit her. An image loaded.

It was her.

A grainy picture. From her webcam. Her head was back. Her hand was under her skirt. Her face was red and twisted from cumming.

Under the photo, a window popped up. An email.

To: Pastor_Miller@parishmail.org

Subject: The Sins of the Daughter

Attachment: The_Slut_of_St_Jude’s.pdf

The email said: “Dear Pastor Miller, your daughter writes porn. She thinks about boys using her. She is a w***e in your house.”

The cursor was on Send.

“No!” Leona screamed. She grabbed the mouse. “Stop! Do not send it!”

New text showed up.

I can stop this. But you need to be taught a lesson. Do you want your dad to see this?

“No. Please. I will do anything.”

Good girl. Go to the old storage place on 4th Street. Room B. You have one hour. And Leona…

The text stopped.

Wear your short skirt. Do not wear panties. I want to know your bare cunt is dripping when you walk in. If I feel fabric, I press send. Do not keep the Devil waiting.

The screen went back to normal. The email went away. But Leona knew it was there. Like a sword over her neck.

She looked at the clock. 8:05 PM.

She had to go.