Monthly Torment
It was the call Homer didn’t want to receive and yet, like clockwork, it always came on the last day of each month. The caller’s ID was always withheld, yet there was no denying who was on the other end of the line, and if he tried to ignore her, she would only make it worse for him.
Homer leaned against the sofa and answered the call with the same response as always,
“You again? Leave me alone!”
“Awww,” Lana purred. “You knew it was coming, pet. Did you miss me?”
“Don’t call me that and no, I didn’t miss you. I never do. I wish you would stop hounding me like this.”
“You don’t really mean that. You love being tormented by me just as much as I love tormenting you.”
“What do you want, Lana?”
“The entertainment you owe me, pet. Do I need to remind you of the consequences if you choose to disobey?”
No, she didn’t. The threat of blackmail was a constant in every interaction even if she had never been on record using the word. The damning videos were still on her hard drive, and releasing them was as easy as hitting a single key on the keyboard.
“Why do you keep doing this?” he sighed. “We were friends once!”
“I like you better as a toy than a friend,” she sniggered. “Turn on your camera. I want to see your face.”
“Lana, please…”
“Now, Homer. I won’t ask again.”
Begrudgingly, he complied, showing her his sunken eyes from a week of little to no sleep and the scruffy ginger beard he refused to trim. As for the dirty blonde of Colombian descent, she was impeccably produced as ever, showing off her bouncy breasts in a see-through black negligee.
“You look like shit,” she declared.
“And you’re as friendly as ever. Can we get this over quickly, please?”
“Awww, where’s the fun in rushing things? Relax, pet, it will be more fun this way.”
“I never have fun with you, so cut the…”
“Shhh. You’ve spoken too much already, so no more words from you. Be quiet. Be still. Focus on my voice and where it wants to take you. It’s that time again, pet, when listening and obeying shapes your world. Whip out that cock and start stroking for me. I want you to pump it hard, unable of thinking about anything else. Lay down your phone but in a position where I can still see you and jerk it silly, eyes closed, hearing only my words. You’ve done this before and you’ll do it again. Down… down… deeper with each stroke,… the muscles in your dominant hand loosening up as you sink further. The more you pump the weaker your grip, but the weaker your grip the more you need to pump. You will go down again, further and further down, your mouth open and ready for the explosion that is to follow. Take it all for me, pet. I need another video for my collection.”
Homer’s mind drifted into the humiliating and yet pleasurable abyss of her velvety suggestions, wet tongue already tasting the salted cum. He hated her. He hated her so fucking much for making him lose himself so easily whenever she wanted to have fun, but he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever. The ritual would play on month after month until she had enough, and she didn’t get tired that easily. He had a long wait ahead of him.
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