Famous Singer Blackmailed: 2/2 – raped and impregnated her

The woman unlocked the front door and, holding it ajar with the tip of her high-heeled boot, tossed her keys towards the bowl on the nearby table. She missed. The keys hit the floor with a metallic clatter.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, spinning back towards the door. She had to stretch herself nearly in half to reach the two paper grocery bags sitting on the step. Scooping them up into her arms, she moved her foot away from the doorframe, took a couple of steps inside, and without so much as a glance, nudged the door shut with the heel of her stiletto. It slammed behind her with a satisfying thud.

She carried the shopping into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Something wasn’t right. Evening was still clinging to the last threads of daylight, but the night was closing in fast.

Reaching for the light switch, she flicked it on. Nothing. The kitchen remained wrapped in murky shadows. She tried the other switch, the one for the LED light above the counter, but no joy there either. Power cut? Bloody typical—some idiot in the building probably tripped the fuse box again.

But the uneasy feeling, the prickling awareness that someone was watching her, didn’t go away. Still, if she wanted to close the blinds and shut the world out, she needed some sort of light first. She bent down towards the drawer where she kept her torch, but before she could pull it open, it happened.

Hands. Strong, unyielding hands clamped onto her, and a heavy weight shoved her roughly to the floor. She hit the cold tiles hard, her groceries spilling across the floor in a messy heap. The figure above her—definitely a man—was lean and quick, but tall and muscled too. Dressed head-to-toe in black, with a ski mask covering his face, he loomed over her like a shadow come to life.

But she knew exactly who he was.

(If you’re wondering how the woman knew who attacked her, you might want to start at the beginning and then come back to see how it all plays out.)

She fought against him, kicking and writhing, but it was no use—she didn’t stand a chance. His hands wrapped around her throat, firm and terrifyingly precise, while his knee dug into her spine, pinning her down. She couldn’t breathe.

Just as the darkness began to close in, the grip on her throat loosened, and the weight pressing down on her stilled. She lay there, frozen and powerless, gasping for air.

Hot, minty breath brushed against her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine.

“So, you actually went ahead with your pathetic little threat,” she heard the familiar growl of a man’s voice. “Big mistake, you filthy slag. Massive mistake.”

Zephyr Luna yanked her by the hair, hard enough to make her wince. She tried to wriggle free, but his grip was ironclad.

“I know you killed your fiancée,” she spat at him through clenched teeth. “I’m not stupid. My lawyer’s got all the evidence. So go ahead, kill me—it won’t save your sorry arse.”

Zephyr froze for a moment, his expression twisted with rage.
“You’re lying!”

“I’ve got a photo from a private investigator who watched you carrying her body,” she snapped back. “Paid him ten grand to keep his mouth shut, so the police wouldn’t get it. Oh, and there are more photos—of the spot where you buried her. And I know why you did it.”

“Why?” Zephyr barked, his grip tightening. “She was cheating on me, that’s why. Sleeping with half my bloody band, the slag.”

“No, that’s not why,” she hissed, still trying to push him off, but his weight kept her pinned to the floor. “If that were it, you’d have just dumped her. But no, you killed her because you’re a pathetic coward. Oh, and because she made a video of you shagging the drummer. That’s right—I’ve got the tape too, in case you were about to ask.”

She struggled again, but Zephyr’s grip didn’t budge. He pressed her harder against the cold floor, his breath hot against her face.

“Killing me won’t help you,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “You know it won’t.”

“Maybe not,” Zephyr said finally, his tone cold and menacing. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make you suffer.”

He rolled up her skirt and with a swift motion, ripped open her comfortable white cotton panties.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to fuck you, right? Guess what, bitch. No romance, no date. You want it there? I’m asking you, bitch. You want to feel my dick deep in your dirty cunt? You want me to sing along? Tell me, you tart, which one of my songs is your favourite.”

She found it strangely arousing. It wasn’t how she’d imagined it, but with a shadow of fear that he’d change his mind and not let her live with his secret after all, the fact that she was immobilized by his weight, that she was about to become a sex toy to Zephyr’s pleasure, turned her on.

He kept pushing her to the floor with his weight, his body pressing against hers. Now she could feel his erection. He was completely hard and she was wet.

“I can feel your wet cunt,” he told her mockingly. “You want it in there, I know it, slut. Please.”

She was naked from the waist down, realizing how much she wanted it. She’d never been one of those women who found rape arousing. She’d never even understood it. And yet, here she was, with a violent figure dressed in black in a situation where she was in danger of having her bones broken or even killed, aroused, open, wet and horny.

But she’s definitely not going to beg the hazel to kindly rape her.

“Fuck you, you smug asshole,” she growls.

He slapped her. Then he grabbed her hair, lifted her head and growled in her ear, “Try again, bitch, and better.”

She sobbed, her face burning and she felt pain. And she felt lust even more. She didn’t say a word, she was afraid but she was also looking forward to what was next. She couldn’t imagine that a dangerous situation like this would turn her on so much.

“Tell me, slut,” the famous singer told her, his hard cock pushing through the fabric of his sweatpants around her wet, bare pussy. “Tell me how badly you want him in there. Ask. I’m saying this one last time, or I’m going to get up and leave.”

He slapped her again, harder this time.

She cried out more in shock than pain. The most urgent thing she felt was lust.

“Please,” she whispered.

“I can’t hear you,” he shot back. “Did I just hear you begging me to rape you? To fuck you? Ravish you for my pleasure?”

It was like the whole inside of her vagina was itching. Like she needed to scratch herself, but no, she knew she wouldn’t scratch herself there. She needed to fill that hole. She needed him to shove his hard cock in there, up to her balls.

“Please,” she whimpered again. “Fuck me.”

“No, whore,” he told her mockingly. “Fucking someone is when I’m in the mood and you’re in the craving. This is different. I want to use you, I want to make you sore. Tell me, do you want, do you need to be made to be hurt?”

“Yes. Please,” she said, involuntarily moving her pelvis as much as the heavy figure in black, who was still lying on top of her, immobilizing her, would allow. She couldn’t help it, it was more of a reflex than she really wanted to make idle copulatory motions. “Take me. Rape me. Hurt me. Right now.”

“That’s a good slut,” he said, and she finally felt his hard cock penetrate her.

She moaned.

He was rough and harsh. He was big, too; she thought all the talk about his size was just a marketing ploy.

The most famous male singer on the planet just fucked her vagina. He could be anywhere, with anyone, but he was right here, right now, with her, his weight pinning her to the ground as if perhaps she wanted to escape. As if maybe she wanted to defend herself against his body, his cock. He was aggressive and violent. He hit her again.

“This will teach you to be a shameless whore who sticks her nose in other people’s business,” he rasped in her ear. His movements were getting faster and faster, and she felt herself nearing orgasm. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming in pleasure. What if he stopped? What if he didn’t let her cum?

“What did you say last time, bitch?” he said, while he harshly scolded. “You want my baby? Not gonna happen. I’ll cum on your back. Or maybe on the face.”

He chuckled contentedly, never stopping his humping. She felt him begin to shudder gently, and at that moment, right then, she clenched her innards so he couldn’t get it out. She gripped it, locking it inside her vagina, and he had no choice but to thrust two, three times and cum right into her.

The way she gripped him made him even more aroused and he couldn’t even fight back. He could feel the hot cum pulsing out of him in massive doses, right into her.

As he collapsed exhaustedly on top of her, dead to the outside world for the next few seconds, she tensed and pushed him off of her. He didn’t fight back. The woman stood up and quickly headed to the bathroom to wipe herself off.

“I’ll call you,” he shouted after her before zipping up and disappearing into the doorway.

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