blackmailed into a new life M/CD

[pssst84@web.de]

In the heart of a bustling city, where the skyscrapers kissed the clouds and the streets were a blur of neon lights, there lived a young man named Marcus. Marcus was a man of simple tastes, preferring the quiet sanctuary of his apartment to the sound of the city below. He had a job that paid the bills, a few friends who knew his name, and a collection of comic books that had seen better days. Life was, for the most part, predictable and comfortable.

Marcus worked as a data entry clerk at a mid-sized company, tucked away in one of those very skyscrapers. His days were a monotonous pattern of clicks and clacks, the rhythmic dance of fingers on a keyboard. He liked it that way. Predictable meant safe, and safe was what he needed. But Marcus had a secret, a curiosity that had been growing like a weed in the cracks of his mundane life. He found himself drawn to the allure of the unconventional, the thrill of the unknown. It was a secret he kept hidden, buried deep beneath layers of societal norms and personal insecurities.

One evening, as Marcus was about to leave the office, his coworker, Tom, called out to him. "Hey, man," Tom said, his voice cutting through the office chatter like a hot knife through butter. "I need a favor." Marcus knew Tom as the kind of person who could charm the birds out of the trees with a single smile, but something in his tone was off. It was a warning bell that Marcus chose to ignore, eager to get home and lose himself in his favorite comic book.

"What's up?" Marcus asked, turning to face Tom. The office lights cast a stark, almost harsh, light on Tom's features, revealing a glint in his eye that sent a shiver down Marcus' spine. "It's nothing big," Tom said, his smile never reaching his eyes. "I just need you to pick up a package for me from the front desk." Marcus shrugged, "Sure, no problem." He couldn't have known that this simple request would be the thread that would begin to unravel the fabric of his carefully constructed reality.

The package was small and unassuming, nestled in the crook of Marcus' arm as he rode the elevator down to the lobby. The weight of it was deceptive, hinting at something substantial inside. He had to admit, he was curious. As he stepped into the cool evening air, the city's pulse quickened around him, the sounds of traffic and distant laughter melding into a symphony of urban life.

Once home, Marcus placed the package on his kitchen counter and took a deep breath. The anticipation was like a tight coil in his stomach. With trembling hands, he tore open the box, revealing a tangle of fabric and lace. Women's clothes. Panties, pantyhose, and a short dress that looked like it had been made for someone much smaller than him. But the most alarming item was the pair of high heels, their shiny black patent leather reflecting the flickering light from the street outside.

Accompanying the clothing was a note, scrawled in a hasty hand. It read: "Wear these tonight. My place. 8 PM sharp. Don't disappoint." Marcus felt the blood drain from his face as he realized the gravity of his situation. He had been blackmailed. His secret, the one he had guarded so fiercely, was out, and in the hands of the last person he wanted to know about it. The fear and anger coiled within him, a potent mix that had his heart racing and his palms sweaty.

He had two choices: confront Tom and risk losing his job and his dignity, or give in to the humiliation. But as he stared at the delicate garments laid out before him, Marcus felt something else stirring. A strange thrill, a hint of excitement that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Perhaps it was the allure of the forbidden, the chance to finally indulge in his hidden desires without the burden of judgment. With a resigned sigh, he decided to go through with it. After all, it was just one night, and maybe, just maybe, it would give him the closure he needed.

He took a shower, his mind racing with thoughts of what awaited him. The hot water cascading over his body did little to ease the tension that had settled in his shoulders. As he dried off, the scent of the perfume from the clothes filled the air, wrapping around him like a seductive embrace. With a shaky hand, he pulled out the panties, feeling the silky fabric against his skin. They were a vibrant pink, with lace trim that tickled as he slid them up his legs. Next were the pantyhose, which he had never put on before. They clung to him like a second skin, smoothing over his curves and leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

The dress was a size too small, but that was the point. It hugged his body like a glove, the hemline teasing the tops of his thighs. He stepped into the high heels, wobbling slightly as he tried to balance. They were uncomfortable, but also surprisingly empowering. The way they made him stand tall, the way they made him feel... it was like he was someone else entirely.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Marcus felt a mix of disgust and fascination. He didn't recognize the person staring back at him, but there was something undeniably alluring about the sight. He knew he had to go through with it, if only to satisfy the burning curiosity that had been smoldering inside him for so long.

At 8 PM, Marcus knocked on Tom's door, dressed as instructed. His heart hammered against his ribs like a drum, each beat a countdown to the moment his life would change forever. The door swung open, and Tom's grin was wide and predatory. "You look perfect," he purred, his eyes raking over Marcus' transformed figure. Marcus took a deep breath and stepped into the lion's den, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

The apartment was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of candles and something else, something musky and intoxicating. The walls were adorned with velvet drapes, casting deep shadows that danced and flickered with the light from the candles. Tom led Marcus through to the living room, where a single chair sat in the center, surrounded by a ring of soft, plush pillows.

"Hands behind your back," Tom ordered, his tone now firm and unyielding. Marcus complied, feeling a strange mix of fear and anticipation as the cold plastic of the zipties bit into his wrists. The sound of the tie being pulled tight was like a gunshot in the quiet room, echoing in his ears as he felt the bonds dig into his skin. He tried to scream, to protest, but Tom's hand was already over his mouth, stifling the sound before it could escape.

Tom's eyes gleamed as he surveyed his captive. He moved closer, his breath hot against Marcus' neck as he whispered, "Shh, it's going to be okay. You're going to do as I say, and you might even enjoy it." Marcus' heart was racing so fast he could feel it in his throat, but he nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

Tom's hands began to roam, gliding over the dress, feeling the curves of Marcus' body beneath the fabric. Each touch was a brand, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Marcus squirmed, torn between the urge to pull away and the strange thrill that coursed through him. He had never felt so powerless, so exposed, and yet... so alive. Tom's hands were sure and deliberate, exploring every inch of him with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

As Tom stepped back to admire his handiwork, Marcus felt the first stirrings of arousal, the heat pooling low in his belly. He couldn't believe what was happening to him, couldn't believe he was letting this happen. But the truth was, he was curious. He had always wondered what it would feel like to give in to the fantasies that had plagued his mind for so long. And now, with the pressure of the situation and the thrill of the unknown, he was about to find out.

Tom leaned in, his breath ghosting over Marcus' ear. "You're going to sit in that chair, and I'm going to show you what a good little slut you can be," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. Marcus' legs trembled as he walked to the chair, his high heels clicking against the hardwood floor. He sat down, his hands bound behind his back, the dress riding up even further.

Tom produced a camera from his pocket, the lens gleaming in the candlelight. "Smile for the camera," he said, his voice low and dangerous. Marcus knew that this was it, the moment where his world would change forever. He took a deep breath and forced a smile, his heart racing as the camera's shutter clicked, capturing his humiliation for all eternity.

But even as he felt the cold metal of the ziptie tightening around his wrists, Marcus couldn't ignore the thrill that shot through him. The fear was still there, but it was mingled with something else, something darker and more primal. He watched as Tom set the camera aside and approached him with a purposeful stride, his eyes never leaving Marcus' bound form.

Marcus' protests grew louder, his voice muffled by the fabric of the panties that Tom had shoved into his mouth. The taste was unmistakable, and the thought of where they had been sent a wave of revulsion through him. But the heat in Tom's gaze told him that his reaction was exactly what Tom wanted to see. With a sadistic smile, Tom pulled out a roll of silver PVC tape and began to wrap it around Marcus' head, sealing his mouth shut. The sticky tape clung to his skin, each pass tighter than the last, until his voice was nothing but a muffled moan.

Tom stepped back, admiring his work. "Mm, you look so hot," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. Marcus felt a flare of anger, his eyes flashing with defiance as he tried to struggle against the bonds. But Tom was too strong, too in control. All he could do was watch as Tom circled him, his eyes devouring every inch of Marcus' exposed flesh.

The apartment was silent except for the sound of Tom's footsteps and Marcus' muffled protests. The anticipation was unbearable, a coil of tension that wound tighter with each passing second. Marcus knew he should be terrified, should be begging for release, but instead, he found himself leaning into the feeling of helplessness. It was like the mask of his everyday life had been torn away, revealing the raw, pulsing need that had been hidden beneath.

Tom reached out and traced a finger along the edge of the tape, his touch sending a shiver down Marcus' spine. "You're going to be my little plaything tonight," he whispered, his breath hot against Marcus' ear. "And I'm going to show you just how much fun we can have together."

Marcus felt a strange mix of dread and excitement as Tom's hand slid down to the zipper of the dress. With a quick tug, it was open, exposing his now-hard cock, trapped between the layers of the panties and the pantyhose. Tom's eyes lit up with a predatory glint as he reached out and began to stroke Marcus through the fabric. Marcus' breath hitched, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to process the sensations. It was wrong, it was humiliating, but it also felt... right.

Tom's touch grew firmer, more insistent, as he worked Marcus' cock over the silky material. Marcus could feel the pressure building, the heat in his cheeks growing as he tried to stifle his moans. His whole body was taut with need, the fabric of the panties and pantyhose adding a layer of friction that only served to drive him closer to the edge. It was a sensation he had never experienced before, and he couldn't help but crave more.

The strokes grew faster, more erratic, as Tom's excitement grew. Marcus could feel the wetness seep through the fabric, a testament to his own arousal. He knew he should be fighting, should be screaming for Tom to stop, but the pleasure was too intense. And with a final, desperate buck of his hips, Marcus came, the warmth of his release spilling out over the panties and down his thighs. The sound of his muffled cries filled the room, a symphony of shame and ecstasy.

Tom stepped back, a smug smile playing on his lips as he watched Marcus' body tremble with the aftershocks of his climax. He unbuckled his own belt, his cock already straining against the fabric of his pants. With a quick tug, it was free, standing proud and hard before him. He stroked it once, twice, his eyes never leaving Marcus' tear-streaked face. And then, with a grunt of pleasure, he came, his hot seed spurting onto Marcus' face, the sticky warmth of it mixing with the salty taste of his own tears.

"Good girk" Tom murmured, his voice a mockery of affection. "You were such a good little slut for me." Marcus flinched, the words hitting him like a slap in the face. He had never felt so degraded, so used. And yet, there was a part of him that reveled in the praise, that wanted more.

"Now," Tom said, tucking his cock back into his pants, "If you want me to let you go, you have to be a good girl for me. Do everything I say, without question. Understand?" Marcus nodded, his eyes wide with fear. He would do anything to escape this nightmare, even if it meant playing along with Tom's twisted games.

The rest of the night was a blur of pain and pleasure, of submission and degradation. Tom pushed Marcus' boundaries, testing his limits until he was sure he had broken him. But through it all, Marcus held onto the hope that if he played the part well enough, if he gave Tom what he wanted, he would be released. And so, he endured, each touch, each command, each humiliation, with the promise of freedom dancing just out of reach.

As the night grew later, Tom grew more and more demanding. The zipties remained tight around his wrists, the tape over his mouth a constant reminder of his helplessness. But even as he felt his body being used, his mind was racing, trying to find a way out. He knew he couldn't go on like this forever, that he had to find a way to regain control. And so, he waited, biding his time, hoping that Tom would make a mistake that he could exploit.

Marcus had never felt so alive, so in the moment, as he sat there in Tom's apartment, dressed in women's clothes and bound by his own desires. He knew that this was just the beginning, that he had so much more to explore and understand about himself. And even though he was terrified of what the future held, there was also a strange sense of liberation in the air. For the first time in his life, he was truly experiencing something real, something raw and unfiltered by the constraints of the world outside.

The hours ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Marcus' body was a canvas for Tom's desires, painted with the colors of lust and power. And as the sun began to rise, casting a pale light through the windows, he knew that he had reached a crossroads. He could either embrace this new side of himself, or he could fight it, deny it, and return to the safety of his old life. But as he looked into Tom's eyes, he realized that there was no going back. The die had been cast, and he was forever changed.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced the gloom, Marcus felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. He had faced his fears, his desires, and he had survived. And with that knowledge, he found a strength he never knew he had. He looked up at Tom, the man who had brought him to this moment, and whispered through the tape, "I'll be good. Just let me go." Tom's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with victory. "Good girl," he said, and for the first time that night, Marcus felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he would get out of this with more than just bruised pride.

[Boundngagged75]

Hot! We need a lot more CD stories in these forums. They always make for the best stories I enjoyed the blackmail element too. Thanks for sharing