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Awakening: 7 Slutty Blackmail Tasks

by silkstockingslover 03/13/18

Summary: MILF's sexual awakening by being forced to do 7 slutty tasks.

Note 1: This is an April Fool's Day 2018 Contest Story so please vote.

Note 2: Thanks to DARKBREEZLY for collaborating with me and creating all the illustrations that bring this story to life.

Note 3: Thanks to: Tex Beethoven, thor_p, Robert, and Wayne for editing.

Note 4: A warning: the 'n' word is used a few times in this story; however it's never used to put anyone down, but only for the glory of worship.

An Awakening: 7 Slutty Blackmail Tasks

Being a teacher means being a pillar of the community twenty-four-seven, 365 days a year.

You are judged at school against the strictures of a Puritanical moral code, but that same moral code must also be adhered to in all public settings.

This joyless approach to public life usually isn't a big deal since I live a rather boring life.

I mean, I haven't had sex in three years, at least not with a real person. Thankfully, with the advancement of sex toys (my rabbit vibe and my personal massager being very effective) I didn't really need to endure the complications of an intimate relationship in public or in private.

My husband left me for his younger secretary just over three years ago (he wasn't a teacher or a minister so he could do whatever he wished without becoming unemployed) and I kept myself busy with teaching, writing a novel that I was now close to finishing, and my kids.

I have twin 18-year-old children, a boy and a girl, who are rather polar opposites and definitely not identical in any possible way.

Donald is very academic with a dozen scholarships to choose between from all the best Ivy League schools, although he hasn't chosen yet. He is a bit nerdy looking, awkward and socially inept, but a sweetheart with a heart of gold.

Charlotte only cares about gold... and her phone... and boys. She is a cheerleader, very outgoing and popular and gets tons of attention from the boys with her red hair, green eyes and large lively breasts. Every month when she gets her period I give a huge sigh of relief, truth be told.

In spite of the strictures on my public life I often spend my evenings watching porn (my favorite video is one of Britney Amber as a teacher masturbating in her class and getting caught and being used by four students... the idea of just being taken, used, dp'd is something so exhilarating and so polar opposite of the prim and proper persona I wear in the classroom) and reading Literotica to get myself off... as I find an orgasm (or two) helps me fall asleep faster. I was thus engaged one Saturday evening in the spring when my life came crashing down in a heartbeat.

My phone buzzed and I saw a text from an unknown number. Since students occasionally text me questions, although today was not only Saturday but also the beginning of a week-long spring break, I stopped rubbing myself, my orgasm just beginning to build as Britney on the screen had a cock in all three holes... something I had never done, never even had two cocks at once... and checked the message.

I gasped.

It was a picture of me sucking my ex-husband's cock!

Shortly after someone's wedding like six years ago.

The accompanying message said: Ms. Ambrose, I never knew this side of you existed.

I couldn't believe it! How could someone have this picture? I remember Barry convincing me to suck his cock in a secluded office adjoining a wedding hall. He often made me suck him in risky places as he got off on it and knew I would do it just because he asked. I am by nature rather sexually submissive and like to be told what to do when behind closed doors... or sometimes even in public, usually when I am tipsy and even more easily persuaded to be naughty. I had sucked my husband's cock in the back of a taxi, in a tent we were sharing with another couple while they were asleep, in an airplane on a trip to London (not in the bathroom where it would be relatively safe, but just under one of those tiny blankets in coach), and in the kitchen when my parents were visiting and watching TV in the adjacent living room. The craziest time was in my hospital bed just hours after giving birth to the twins. He even came on my face that time and made me keep it on my face, although he generously let me rub his cum all over my face so it wasn't so obvious. He had also fucked me at a funeral, inside a phone booth (no matter what Superman may think, those windows don't conceal much), at a beach with others in view and at an amusement park. He'd even had me give him a hand job, and a few quick sly sucks, at our wedding reception while we were being fêted at the head table with over 200 people in attendance. The crazy thing was I always said no at first, but still ended up giving in and obeying him and always got turned on doing it.

Now I want to stress I'm not a slut. Since college I have only ever had sex with my ex. I have to admit that I did go rather crazy in my freshman year of college and fucked maybe twenty guys that year, half of them one wild night at a frat party (all right, I really was a little slut for a while), but then I knuckled down and concentrated on my studies except for a brief lesbian encounter where I licked a girl while drunk at a party. I liked that, but was petrified to be outed as a lesbian and thus never considered doing it again. Once I fell under Barry's thrall I was constantly terrified of getting caught when he wanted to have sex in risky places, but those always ended up being the most pleasurable sexual encounters. The fear factor added such an edge that I just came and came! (And Barry had to stuff my panties in my mouth to stifle my boisterous excitement.) So once I was married I wasn't a slut except when ordered to be one by my husband. That doesn't count, does it?

Then during the past three years after he left I got into reading erotica and watching lesbian porn. I had a few go-to scenes when I was in a lesbian mood including: the always hot Kendra James seducing her daughter-in-law played by Veronica Vain in Almost Caught, the seduction of a son's girlfriend when he was there with Nina Elle and Cleo Vixen called Tasting Cleo, or my all-time favourite where MILF Lolo Punzel seduces her best friend's daughter played by Dylan Daniels while chatting with the mother. I realize in retrospect the idea of getting caught was also a major turn-on in the porn I watched.

As I pondered my slut-hood, or hopefully lack of it, a second text arrived.

I nervously clicked on it and found myself gasping at another picture of myself, this time with a full load on my face.

I recalled Barry making me rub it all over my face like a facial cream before returning to the wedding reception where a friend commented on how shiny my face was. I was mortified, yet that night back in the hotel room I let Barry fuck me hard to multiple orgasms.

This pic was followed by the words: Although I do like your choice of facial cream.

Who the fuck was doing this? My ex? He was the only one who had these pictures, which he'd promised he had deleted the next morning when I was sober.

I called him (he still lived nearby, wanting to spend time with our children, which I parsimoniously allowed) and asked, "You deleted those pictures from the wedding, right?"

"Of course," he answered, after a brief hesitation.

'You're one hundred percent sure?" I asked, and since I was staring at one of them I knew he was lying.

"Okay, okay," he admitted. "I transferred them to my laptop before you made me delete them."

"When?" I asked.

"After you passed out that night," he replied.

"And where is that laptop?" I asked, already thinking the worst.

"Oh God!" he said.


"It was stolen a couple of weeks ago," he said.

"What?" I repeated, even though I'd heard him.

"The house was broken into and a few things were taken," he explained, "including my old laptop."

"And the pictures were still on it?" I asked, even though it was obvious they were.

"Shit, maybe," he said, before adding, "I hadn't used that laptop in a couple of years."

"Fuck, you idiot!" I snarled, and hung up.

I looked at the pictures again.

They didn't implicate him at all... sure his cock was in view and I could recognize it, but that was it.


Another text.

No picture this time, but just as scary.

Ms. Ambrose I'm going to help you re-live that inner slut.

I stared at the words.

Relive? Did this person know me?

I finally responded back: Who are you?

The response back replied: Your one-week Puppet Master.

What on earth did that mean?

I responded: ?

His response realised my biggest fear: If you want these pictures to stay secret and not go to the school board and online you will perform seven tasks I will assign to you.

Oh my God!

I pleaded a response: Please, do you want money?

He responded: I don't want money. I'm doing this for your benefit.

I scoffed.

I responded: For me?

He responded: Yes and that will become clear as the week progresses. Check your phone tomorrow morning. Task one will be sent sometime before noon.

I responded: And if I say no?

He responded: Well, we already know what Superintendent Walsh thinks of breaking the moral code. Any claims you made about not posing for these pictures or the cock in question belonging to your husband would fall on deaf ears. Correct?

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