Blackmailing the MILF Chapter 2

It had been four months since Michael had started to blackmail Saskia and Emma.

Four months of steadying increasing payments, from an, almost, reasonable £200 each, increasing each month until it was reaching the point that paying was unsustainable. They realised that eventually the amount would reach the point where there would be no way of paying it, and the thought of what would happen then terrified them.

This fear was foremost in their minds, never going, never giving them peace. It was started to affect their relationships, with their husbands, kids, family and friends.
To make matters worse, it was starting to affect their work, leaving them to be in jeopardy of losing their jobs and careers. This was doubly dangerous with the world in the current economic climate.

Their woes increased when they received the coded text that gave them the amount of the next payment, £10,000, each.

Michael phoned them a couple of days later at the time stated in the text to make arrangements for collecting the money. He always demanded that they were together when he rung, it saved him the effort of repeating himself.

“Hello ladies, have you got the money?” he demanded

Saskia started to reply “There’s a problem, we’re having trou…” “What the fuck you mean there’s a problem. You pay me the money, or everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY sees the film of you two lezzing it up. Can’t see the fucking problem there”

“But we haven’t got that amount of money. We’ve used everything, all our savings, our credit cards, we can’t get any more loans, THERE IS NOTHING LEFT” He could hear Emma start to cry in the background.

“Tell her to stop fucking crying will you, okay I’m a reasonable man, and you are lucky you’ve caught me in a good mood. Met me Friday evening at the Railwayman’s Arms in Hazeltown, you know it?” Both women knew it by reputation, but the fear of exposure overruled any fear that the pub held. “Good, met me at seven, sharp”

“Oh” he added, almost as an afterthought “wear everything you were wearing when you met Monica, and I don’t just mean your outerwear, ya hear me”

“You mean our under…” “Yep, I fucking do” they heard the phone go down.

Emma looked at her, “Why’s he want that” “I think I can guess, but I suppose we’ll have to humour him”, the women looked at each other, a look that combined both resignation and apprehension about the meeting.

Hazeltown had a reputation as one of the roughest parts of the county, the Railwayman’s Arms as one of its roughest pubs. So it ways with no little trepidation that they locked Emma’s Fiesta and started to enter the pub.

Their nervousness was not helped by the blatant leering of a group of men standing smoking outside the door. They entered to wolf-whistles and a barrage of obscene comments “Fuck look at the tits on them” “Fuck I’m goin’ to do them some damage later” “come here luv and suck me knob”. A couple even went as far as groping their bums as they tried to walk past. Fear stopped them saying anything, fear of something worse happening later when they left.

All they could do is hope that when they did, the car would still be there, unmolested, and the men would be gone.

As they opened the inner set of doors the first thing that hit them was the smell, a combination of stale beer, stale sweat and, surprisingly so long after the ban, stale cigarette smoke. They nervously looked around its dark, forbidding interior. As they their eyes become accustomed to the low lights, they noticed its air of dilapidation, scarred tables, stained, dirty lino that stuck to the soles of their shoes as they walked. The few people, nearly all men, all looked the same. All had the look of people eking out their existence day to day, waiting for the next giro.

As the door opened the Phil, the barman looked up and spotted the two ladies standing in the doorway. One glance was all he needed for him to know that these were the two Mike told him about. ‘Not bad’ he thought ‘especially the blonde.

As they looked around they realised that they could not see Michael anywhere. They were reluctant to wander around in case it gave out the wrong signals. Suddenly they become aware of the barman signalling to them.

His appraisal become more open as they approached “Saskia and Emma?” he asked, unnecessarily. “He’s upstairs, go through the door over there” he pointed to a door in the left wall “straight up the stairs, door ahead of you”

As the women walked away he pressed a button under the bar, this button was connected to a buzzer in an upstairs room.

To get to the door they had to walk past some men playing pool. More wolf-whistling and lewd comments came to their ears.

As they entered they noticed Michael sitting at a table placed opposite the door. “Sit” he commanded, indicating seats at the back of the table. He was positioned so that they had to squeeze past him to get there. As they did he deliberately pushed his crotch forward, so that his cock would knock against their bums, as they moved past them he grabbed their thighs to ‘help’ them past, moving his hands up and down and holding Emma practically longer then was strictly necessary, while playing with the tops of her stockings. Again, just the same as they entered, neither woman could protest at the treatment.

As they tried to make themselves comfy, they realised that he was still standing. Looking up they saw the leer on his face as he openly stared down at the cleavage they were showing.

“Right sexy ladies, what’re ya drinking?” “Nothing thanks” they both said.

“Now don’t be like that, my treat”

“Orange juice” “Same for me” Emma added, “Right you are two orange juices coming up” He walked to the darkest part of the bar, out of sight of the two nervous women. Pouring the drinks himself, he pulled a couple of small, glass bottles of liquid, one clear, the other a slightly pale golden colour, from his jacket pocket. He poured four drops out of each bottle into the glasses and stirred the concoction. He then returned to where his victims waited, put the drinks down and sat opposite them.

Both women ignored the drinks. Saskia was the first to speak “look, I’m sorry but there is no…” Michael silenced her with a wave of his hand.

“I’m not going to talk business until we have finished our drinks so drink up” With that both women took a sip of their drinks, and grimaced. “That’s got vodka in it, we asked for a plain orange juice” Saskia put her glass on the old wooden table.

“What don’t you like it? Now don’t insult me, that wouldn’t be smart. Drink up” This was spoken in a voice that brooked no argument. They steeled themselves and drank both large drinks in a four long gulps.
They were getting more and more agitated as they waited for their blackmailer to finish his drink, an activity that he was taking his time over, the fact that whenever he put his glass down he made sure that they saw him clocking their tits didn’t help their comfort levels either.

The longer he took, the worse it was, then suddenly, which they didn’t know at the time, the combination of drink and drugs took over, and they started to relax.

Michael noticed the slumping of the shoulders and the slight glazing of the eyes. ‘Result’ he thought ‘playtime’.

“Now here’s the deal. For the next couple of months I own you. You do what I say, when I say it, how I say it.