David's mind had begun to play a dangerous game.
Initially following his assault on his mother he had felt immense guilt for his actions. He had been moved by all sorts of desires and emotions, the least of which was compassion. But as time passed, some of the more selfish thoughts and reactions had returned.
Why was he supposed to feel guilty? He wasn't the one who had cheated on their spouse. He hadn't betrayed the family. He wasn't having sex with strangers. That was her. Those were her wrongs, not his!
From the moment the teenager slipped into this line of thinking, there was a swift and dangerous progression. As he sat alone in his room, he felt his own self serving righteousness return, with a hint of bitterness added in. A sense of justification soon followed, along with the familiar need that almost never left the teenage boy's mind.
He tried recalling the sensation of his mother's breasts beneath his hands, but was unable to. For a while he tried stroking his cock just to his imagination, but found himself only capable of getting erect and not much else. So he waited, patiently, till everyone had gone to bed.
Certain that he was the only one intent on venturing out late in the evening he would slip back downstairs to the study and the computer that contained the images that had begun the little expedition earlier in the day.
The computer was still on and the computer was already open to a curious file. There was a pending box on the screen: "Are you sure you want to remove the folder "Picts" and move all its contents to the Recycle Bin?" David clicked "No". Now more curious then ever he double clicked on the folder and a plethora of thumbnails began to fill in across the screen.
It was a jackpot for the young man. Dozens of images of his mother having sex, giving blowjobs, stripping, being groped, watching porn, masturbating, and more filled the screen. David's cock immediately flew to attention and his hand plunged into his shorts. Alex's son furiously masturbated as he clicked through scene after scene of his mother's perfect naked form. His favorites were ones of her bent over with someone fucking her from behind. The look of ecstasy on her face was intense and soon he felt his jizz flood his pants. Still he stroked until there was nothing left but the wet stain across the material.
David's mind reeled with all the possibilities. Maybe she was telling the truth. But he decided he didn't care. He had something in mind. Quietly he burned the file to disc and carried it up to his bedroom. David would jack off to it several times that night. While he waited for his cock to harden again, he would evaluate his desires, and come up dissatisfied with only the promise of self-fulfillment. He wanted more and he needed a way he could get it.
Alex woke early the next morning. She had slept uneasily and was feeling more trapped then ever. So far, she had never seemed to fulfill the blackmailer's infinite desire and only succeeded in getting her son involved in the affair. She wondered how much longer things would go on this way and how far her sanity and values would travel. Part of her unrest, however, had come from the awareness that she was beginning to be aroused more and more by the threats and possibilities of each new day. And it was beginning to be an incontrollable urge to fulfill that urgent driving need. If the blackmailer did not contact her, she was forced to do it on her own. But a small emptiness in the pit of her stomach always throbbed, reminding her that she wanted more. And no matter how hard she tried to deny it, it would not fade until she was back in some compromising position.
Despite this arousal and desire, Alex was not ignorant of the fact that her whole life rode on her ability to fulfill the blackmailer's demands. No matter what she was feeling, she could not allow herself to forget that she was here for her daughter, Annabelle, and her family. This was all for her family.
She would shower silently her mind torturing her with the tug of war between sexual wants and personal responsibilities. She would fight off the urge to masturbate in the shower and also recognized that she would need to soon, if there was no requirement for today. Luckily for her lust, by the time she had reached the computer, there was another message waiting.
"Dearest darling- we are having such a good time are we not? It is disappointing to me that you seem to be getting so little from our little game, so we will have a new opportunity for personal return today."
Alex knew that the person controlling her actions and behavior was aware of the sexual urgency which was building within her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was watching her every movement, every plunge of her fingers between her legs. And she was fully aware of the fact he knew she could not fight of the delight of release.
"Click on the link below the message. I have taken a liberty and posted some of our pictures for you. There are several eager applicants for your services and I would hate to have you disappoint your new clientele. Make sure to see three of them today. Ta-ta!"
The web address was just a grouping of numbers and dots which made no sense to Alex, but it was highlighted in the familiar blue color so she clicked away. Instantly a dozen images popped up on her screen, each one a flashing display of pornography. Different websites promising the youngest of young, barely legal, the girl next door, soccer moms, threesomes, lesbians, and more jumped to the forefront of her screen. Alex's stomach turned as she tried to close the windows, blatant advertisements of the seediness of humanity. She had managed to close all but one of them and in her eager battle; she nearly closed the last one. The one she was intended to see.
Her pointer had drifted to the angry red box in the corner of the window that contained a white X. But just before her forefinger descended and the page would have blinked away, Alex realized that the profile was for her.
A single image of her body with legs spread and fingers diddling occupied the top left corner of the page and personal data about NauTyTeacher69 filled out the remainder. More pictures of her were periodically interspersed to keep the sites visitors engaged. At first there was a sense of precariousness which caused Alex's spirits to plummet. Her face, her body, her degradation and shame were on display for the entire world to see, and she had no idea what she could do.
As the startled buzz settled, she realized that all she could do was obey.
The teacher in her took over and she began to examine the pages' contents and what her next task was. The site was for independent amateur escorts. It was free to join if you were offering services, but had a membership charge if you were looking for them. The top page was her profile- her measurements, occupation, age, state, and other data was listed clinically. Then came the more sexual portion of the page. There was a list of her fetishes, of the activities she performed, of her own personal sexual preferences (position, size, etc), and a going rate for her company by the hour. Alex nervously clicked to her requests page.
Already over one hundred 'private messages' occupied the space, requesting meetings and performances and sexual favors. As she scanned the page she realized that three of them had already been responded to and her personal planner was highlighted with a fateful red.
Another click, a new page. This one showed her scheduled appointments for the day. There were three scheduled and they took up the entirety of the day. There were one hour gaps between them, allowing for transportation time, and a little recovery. Alex swallowed heavily as she clicked into her first appointment. It was two hours from now at a seedy motel by the airport. The request was posted by a middle aged man who went by the screen name PaulBunyan56. He wanted her to dress like 'an innocent elementary school marm'. Alex figured that would be a more sexed up version of her normal work outfit.
Alex tried summoning as much offense and mock anger towards her blackmailer as she dressed. She could not allow for the fact that she was now more aroused then ever, and her body, if not her mind was looking forward to the day's challenge.
Nervousness would become the preeminent emotion in the attractive mother's mind as she drove to her destination. She was unsure of herself sexually, unsure of her future, and unsure of her own conscience. If she could not fight off the things that welled up within her, how would she ever be a good wife and mother? So intent on her internal workings, Alex drove by the motel the first time. By the time she broke from the quiet tortured reverie she was five minutes past. Now more nervous then ever, she pulled a U-turn and headed back the way she had come.
She parked her car in the back of the building and sat there studying the aging appearance of the den. Steeling herself for the coming assault, she marched up the stairs. Room 201, room 202, room 203, room 204. The brass door markers breezed by as she stalked to her fate. Room 213. This was it.
The drapes old and tattered, but their heavy cloth still effectively hid the room's contents from outside view. Nervously she knocked, her heart pounding in her chest. Alex could hear feet as they padded towards the door. The rattle of the door knob as it twisted signaled Alex's last opportunity to flee and then it swung open.
Her eyes struggled to adjust to the dank exterior of the room and its occupants. In the doorway, a tall heavyset man who was obviously PaulBunyan56 greeted her in a deep growling voice.
"Come in."
Alex obediently stepped across the threshold and into the motel room, her eyes glued to the floor. In silence she awkwardly shifted from one heel to another, her eyes flicking upwards to scan the faces of the three men assembled there. Paul Bunyan was by far the oldest and was probably the father of the two others in the room. They all bore the same piggish nose and body shape. Alex could tell simply by looking at the boys that they were bullies. They were to big and awkward to be popular or athletic, and too stupid looking to be geeks. The loose plaid shirt and oversized jeans finished the profile. They were bullies. Young men who used their size and strength to get what they wanted out of their failed existence. As a teacher, she had a way of picking them from a crowd.
"She really looks like a school teacher," the younger, nineteen year-old said.
"Yessir she does. Doesn't look like most of these whores."