Disclaimer: Please be advised that the following work of fiction contains themes of rape. Any similarity to actual characters or situations is purely coincidental. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
For six years, I’ve been weaving a web of deceit around her. My attraction to her beauty and allure has been a constant pull, drawing me closer. I’ve wormed my way into her trust, studying her every move, searching for weaknesses to exploit. I’ve aided her in questionable endeavors, all the while biding my time, awaiting the perfect moment to wield the ultimate weapon of blackmail.
But it wasn’t my talent or any of my schemes that led to my triumph—it was luck and, I suppose, her own foolishness. As of now, she has two strikes against her: the security guard monitoring the CCTV footage caught her making out with a subordinate in a secluded office hallway. There wasn’t much action involved, but it was clear as day that he was kissing and fondling her nipples. The other one was that she deliberately withheld information from her subordinates. It prevented them from adapting to her new policies, as shown in a screenshot.
Okay, the second strike may not be as significant, but it still counts. The first one, well, let’s just say that I’m not the only cold-hearted, vile motherfucker around. Some people are truly rotten to the core, so much so that you can confide in them about your most sinister plans and they will not blink an eye. In fact, they’d even help you out if they could get in on the action. That was the guard who saw the CCTV footage.
Somehow, he managed to erase it from the recording without anyone noticing, but he was kind enough to give me a copy for blackmail purposes. All the guy wanted in return was a chance to sleep with her.
And so here we are, the big, burly guard and me, lean and wiry like a coyote. I’m self-aware enough to admit that I’m not exactly easy on the eyes, and neither is the guard. We’re both well below her league, but fate has dealt us an unethical hand, gifting us with this porcelain-skinned beauty locked in the same room as us. She’s the whitest Filipina you’ll ever meet—must be the Russian ancestry. Her long red hair, petite body with C-cup breasts, and long waxed legs are all ours to enjoy. Even in her current state, her face is a vision; she’s realized how she’s been betrayed by me of all people, and the mix of anger and defeat on her face is incredibly alluring. Those teary eyes are doing strange things to my libido.
I wanted to enjoy her by myself, but this guard demanded he go first and asked me to leave the room to themselves. I tried to protest, but the motherfucker has leverage since he has the recording after all. You can’t get everything you want, I guess, so I let him have his fun. I got out of the room, and it was the longest 30 minutes of my life. But it was also the most sexually teasing. Hearing her pained sobs and moans was such a delight to the ears, and I could only imagine what nasty things he’s forced upon her.
Then, the door opened, and the guard emerged. The guard has a sinister grin on his face and boasts that she smelled like expensive perfume and had completely shaved genitals, possibly from waxing, that had been intended for her boyfriend. This situation couldn’t get any better. Or could it?
I locked myself in the room with her, and she’s even prettier now. Her skin is all red with pain, stress, and shame. Her face is infinitely more arousing with all those tears and ruined makeup. Her hair is even more alluring now that it has some traces of cum in it. Gotta hand it to the guard; it looks like he came twice in 30 minutes. That’s better than any of the honest guys I know. Unless the cum leaking from her vagina is hers, or… I’m not sure. I like to think the guy busted a nut, used her hair to wipe the semen off it, and then fucked and creampied her pussy. Her tits were quite reddened as well; it looks like the guard snacked on them.
This needs to be documented. That guard can’t be trusted. He double-crossed me, technically, earlier by forcing his desires on me. I need my own leverage. Typical, but it always works: photographs of her naked, abused body. It never made sense to me why these things work—wouldn’t people be more sympathetic to their pligh…