Blackmailed Again

Author’s Note: Here I am again, about to present another story that is totally irrelevant in terms of canon. Because anyone starts bitching, I realize that this would not actually happen in the Phoenix Wright world, but I also do not care. So enjoy yourselves.

Anything you recognize is clearly not mine.

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When I was very young, I committed my first crime. As a child of only five years old, I walked out of a store carrying a toy I had neither entered with, nor paid for. I felt immediate remorse, but remorse doesn’t really mean anything, does it? Remorse comes after the fact, and does not prevent crime or harm of any sort.

As I grew older I, of course, never again committed a similar crime, though, I never resisted gifts of stockings I knew my friends had stolen from the local shopping mall, just for the thrill. As my parents surely hoped, there was no further error in my actions. Never again, until some months before my twentieth birthday, did I commit a crime. However, this was far worse than the mere thievery of a cheap, plastic toy.

Though I am very much a weak, pathetically small woman (a hundred pounds soaking wet, and scarcely an inch over five feet drawn and quartered) I was, at this time, working as a part-time security guard for a company. For some time a simply gorgeous man, with a long, lean body and silky hair worked along side me.

I got to know him very well. He had a wife named Désirée, who I knew he loved very much. He gained her love by rescuing her, though, I had to admit, the object of my lust hardly appeared capable of rescuing a cat from a bag. He was very sweet and soft-spoken, and like me, tended to trail off into nothingness when he spoke. Though he and I were both sad, meek little creatures, we were both capable of asserting ourselves, should the situation demand it.

Now you see, every time he mention this woman, his ‘Dessie’, I grew a little more hateful. I was very attracted to my co-worker, Ron DeLite, but I couldn’t stand to hear about his wife without quivering with sadness.

I admit, I am far from the most beautiful woman in the world, but I had a relatively attractive body, and was far curvier than that ironing board of a woman. While in recent years it has come to my attention that the word ‘curvy’ is synonymous to the word ‘fat’, I must deny this. A woman with hips and an ass, a medium to full chest, and a slim wait in the middle is curvy. A woman who had both the former, but no middle definition, tends to be fat. My legs and arms were and are slender, though, hardly sticks.

I couldn’t help that I wanted poor Ron so desperately, madly, one might say. I knew some rather awful men during that time period, men who would do anything for the right price. I paid those two men to seduce Ron’s wife ‘Dessie’, and secretly photograph their little session. According to their words when they reported back to me, the woman took little swaying. She was, after all, the sort who loved a little thrill, and what better thrill than a little taste of the forbidden fruit?

So, with pictures in hand I found my way to Ron DeLite’s apartment. It was a very cold night, especially for the way I had dressed myself. I wore a very small, tight skirt, and a black, silky blouse, which I only buttoned about half way. My legs were sheathed in a pair of black, lace topped stockings, and my feet were propped up on a pair of five inch, stiletto heels. It was safe to say I looked like a total whore.

I stole my way into little Ronnie’s home, and swiftly found my way to his bedroom. I knew for a fact his wife was out on her bikes, at least, that would be what she told her husband. In reality, I knew she was off with my male friends again. I wondered why Ron had married this woman when he hardly had the libido to satisfy her. At least, not to my knowledge, but I suppose I was soon to find out.

In his sleep, Ronnie seemed just as soft and meek as he did during his waking hours, perhaps more so. He lay on his side, clutching to himself a small plush of Mask DeMasque. It was cute, in the pathetic sort of way. I smiled, and bent myself over him. Softly, I stroked his hair. “Hello Ronnie.” I whispered.

“Dessie?” He cried, opening his eyes in excitement, only to behold me, his young, inviting coworker, bent over, her breasts almost entirely exposed,m and though he didn't know it, her pussy soaking wet. “You’re not my Dessie!” He cried in shock.

“Of course I’m not, she’s never had tits this great!” I replied, grinned vulgarly.

“How did you get in here?” He demanded. I straighted up, and smiled.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked. Really, what sort of security guard are you? Could you imagine, if your Dessie had been home alone, and you left for work, left that door unlocked, and while she was sleeping, someone broke in and killed, or worse, raped the little...sweety?” My poor Ronnie squirmed in his bed.

“That wouldn’t have happened! That is to say, it couldn’t have...but then...I can’t be sure either way...” He muttered. I smiled.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding. Now, I have some very decisive evidence here that will hopefully get me just what I want from you, and maybe will teach you a thing or two about your...shopaholic of a wife”

“What is this?” He asked, and I handed him the photos. Still smiling, I slipped into the bed beside him, and slid my hand under blanket, just at the band of his underwear. Without any warning, my hand pushed itself under the elastic, and gripped the warm flesh of his cock. It had hardened at the sight of those photos, and possibly my earlier presentation, but I knew his heart was pumping wildly for different reasons.

“These can’t be real!” Poor Ronnie cried in denial, as he gazed at picture after picture of his little Dessie sucking the thick, disgusting cocks of my friends, of them making a spit roast of her, of her disgustingly little cunt having object after object shoved into it.

“Do you really think there’s any way these could be fake? Surely as a husband you know your wife’s body very well, even a body as boring as hers, and as I have never had relations with your wife, though, I doubt she’d resist, I would not succeed in tricking you with simple photo manipulation.”

“It does look like my Dessie,” He whispered, almost oblivious to my stocking of his cock, which was growing longer and thicker by the second. “But it just can’t be! My Dessie is a good girl, she would never do that, never! And could you please stop touching meeeeee?” He cried. I ignored his last request. By now his cock felt completely solid. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would taste as sweet as he is.

"But you're so hard Ronnie, you love this." I cooed.

"No, no, no, no! JUST STOP TOUCHING MEEE!" He cried again. His voice seemed high enough to penetrate my skull. My Ronnie's face was flushed with embarrassment.

“No, Ronnie. I will absolutely not stop touching you. In fact, if you don’t want your Dessie publicly humiliated, you will do absolutely everything I ask of you tonight, do you understand?”

“I thought you were my friend, Gwendolyn.” He whispered, glancing at me sadly. Oh, if only I could describe how much that pathetic look turned me on. I couldn’t help but ache to destroy the sad, sad creature known as Ron DeLite. “but...no one will believe you. you’re just a...a...WHORE!”

I sighed, completely unfazed. “So? People will believe their eyes, Ronnie, and they will see your wife as the useless cumbag she is. You’ve said it yourself, all she does is spend your money, and ride around on her bikes. She just wants to push the limits, Ronnie.

“And Ron, darling, we’re the best of friends.” I said, ripping his underwear from his body, and flipping the sheet off of us. “and soon, we’ll be far closer.”

Ron stared at me sadly. He knew his resistance would do no more than cause his wife pain and humiliation, but his compliance would leave him with a guiltier conscience than any other of his crimes. Without another word, I stepped off the bed, and quickly removed my blouse and skirt, so I stood before him in only my small, red push up bra and matching lacy panties.

“Really, Ron,” I began, slipping one hand down my panties, and the other into my bra, “You can’t tell me you aren’t enjoying this. Look at how hard I’ve made your cock, it’s practically as solid as my bones! Oh, it’s going to love being inside my cunt. I assure you, I’m far tighter than anyone you’ve ever had! Truth be told, I’ve never been with any man, but I’ve done away with that pesky little hymen. I do not wish for any pain to come along and crash this wonderful party.”

While it was true I had never had any man or woman penetrate me either vaginally or anally, I had some skill with my hands and mouth, with both sexes. But neither oral nor manual stimulation of another meant much to me.

I unbuttoned my bra and allowed Ron to gaze at my generously full breasts. My nipples stood out. Hard they were roughly the size and shape of the erasers on the end of regular, wooden pencils. The perfect sort of nipples for sucking, as one woman I enjoyed had told me. Nearly naked now, but for my stockings and panties, I straddled Ron’s hips and sat atop him.

“Now Ron,” I began again. “ I don’t think you can deny you would love fucking my tight, little cunt.”

“No!” He cried, though rather weakly. “I would never put something as important as my penis into something as disgusting as that!”

“What’s that?” I asked, pausing in my masturbation of my nipples.

“You heard me, Gwendolyn, you stupid slut!” I struck his face with my open palm.

“Don’t you DARE let me hear you say that again, you useless fuck, or so help me, I will destroy you, not just your wife.” I began tugging and twisting my small nipples again.

“So, Ron,” I whispered, bending over him, my tits in his face. “I want you to suck on my nipples.” I demanded. Without question he obeyed, licking and sucking the left, then the right and back again.

I moaned with pleasure. I loved having my breasts teased far more than most women did, for whatever reason. After just a few minutes of Ron’s licking and sucking, my panties were completely soaked. “That’s enough, “ I snapped, standing up. I slid my panties down my legs, and stepped out of them. “Mmm, Ron, is your Dessie’s cunt half as nice as this?” I asked, smiling gently.

I took very good care of myself. There wasn’t a moment when my little pussy was too hairy, or smelled oddly. On this day, I had taken special care to remove every single hair. I looked very neat and tidy, in fact, the lips were so small that they were barely there at all, and my clit wasn’t much bigger than a...well, there isn’t much that’s small and round enough to compare it to. “Well, Ronnie?” I asked, sitting on the bed and spreading my legs widely apart. I began rubbing my tiny clit, and in moments I was squirming and moaning under my own touch.

“Yes...Gwendolyn, you....cunt is far more attractive than Dessie’s.” He whispered meekly, defeated. He didn’t, however, appear to be denying it, even to himself.

“Do you think you’ll love this little cunt a lot more than your Dessie’s?” I asked, still rubbing myself.

“Yes. Your little hole looks so small.” He whispered, gazing at me, his hand wrapped around his cock.

“Stop that,” I ordered instantly, though, the sight of him beating himself off aroused me more. “I want your full attention for this.”

“For what?”

“I want you to lick and suck me here,” I began, gesturing to my cunt, “But before you do it, I want you to beg for me to let you. Absolutely do not touch me until I allow it.”

Ron’s face turned bright red. “Oh please...” He started, staring at my pretty little pussy, “Let me lick and suck your beautiful little...cunt, please, Gwendolyn. I want to get you off, and make you feel amazing, please, I want to know how much more delicious your cunt is than my...whore wife’s.” I grabbed his hair and pulled him to my cunt, which he hungrily began licking.

The effect was almost instant. He was simply amazing, there are no few words to describe his skills. I moaned and cried out my delight. “Oh Ron, you’re so wonderful at this! Oh please, do not stop this!” I cried, bucking my hips against his face. His tongue circled my clit as he sucked it gently, applying as much pressure as he could. I felt so weak under his near torture of my pussy. Not even a minute passed before I came, crying out my pleasure. “Ronnie...” I muttered,” rolling him onto his back, and laying on top of him, my cunt still facing him. “Tell me, before you continue, how does it taste?”

“Wonderful...” Came his weak reply, before he began teasing me.

“Good.” I replied, just as quietly as I began sucking his large cock. I licked and teased the very tip gently, and beneath me poor Ronnie squirmed in delight, his cries of pleasure muffled. Slowly, I began to shove his thick, delicious cock down my throat, applying as much suction as I could manage with so little air. I gripped his balls in my left hand, and began squeezing and caressing them gently.

“Mmm...Gwenny...I think I’m coming” Ron muttered. I pulled back instantly.

“Not yet you’re not! I want you to fill my cunt with that come!” I cried, switching myself around and squatting so my little cunt was just above his thick, gorgeous cock. “You’re never going to believe how tight I am” I said, and lowered myself quickly.

“OH!” Ron cried, his voice filled with passion as I began riding his delicious prick. I don’t think I could have imagined the loss of my virginity any better than it was.

Below me lay my precious Ron, in the throes of ecstasy, moaning and squirming, his hands gripped my hips and forcing me to ride him faster and faster. Above him I moaned out my pleasure, pumping my hips like mad. “Ron....Oh God.” I cried, my body completely stunned by its first internal orgasm. Never could I have thought having a warm, thick cock inside me could feel so good.

As my frenzied riding grew faster, Ron shot a thick load of delicious, Ronnie Cream into my freshly deflowered cunt.

I whimpered, sitting on his cock and writhing with delight. “Mmm, Ron?”

“Yes, Gwenny?”

“Would you like to fuck me again sometime?” I asked, gazing down at him with begging eyes.

“Yes, but next time, make it less like rape.” He asked frankly. “But for now, let’s hold one another. You might as well stay. I have some matters to settle with...Désirée when she arrives home, so your presence here hardly makes a difference. I don’t expect to call her my wife once more.”

So there you have at. At the tender age of nineteen I single handedly destroyed a marriage, and practically raped a man. I can't say I really regret my actions...not totally, after all, I got some of the best sex of my life after it. I returned to him again and again.

I later found out his wife had moved onto someone else a bit more interesting, and when Ron found out who this man was, he was terribly depressed. I sent my 'friends' after her with a much more violent quest, and slutty little Dessie learned not to trust men so easily.