Author: Sampson_Simpson2001 (sampson_simpson2001@yahoo.com) Title: The Blackmail of the Lawrence Family - Part 1: Emmy Gets a Package Summary: Young Emmy Lawrence gets an unexpected package in the mail and finds herself being blackmailed into forced webcam exhibitionism. Keywords: fsolo, blackmail, exhib, anal, reluc, voy The Blackmail of the Lawrence Family - Part 1: Emmy Gets a Package (sampson_simpson2001@yahoo.com) Legal Stuff: THIS STORY IS PROTECTED UNDER THE LAWS OF COPYRIGHT. ANY REPRODUCTIONS, ALTERATIONS, AND/OR SALES WITHOUT THE WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. ============================== The Blackmail of the Lawrence Family - Part 1: Emmy Gets a Package Emmy slammed the door and threw her book bag down on the floor. "I'm home!" she shouted. "Something came for you today," called out her mother from the kitchen. "I left it up in your bedroom." "Thanks!" Emmy called back, and started up the stairs. The news from her mom had her excited; she was waiting for early acceptance notification from Stanford and had a good feeling about whatever had arrived in the mail. At the top of the stairs she saw through her bedroom door a tall brown envelope sitting on her bed. Her heart raced. She dashed into the room and looked at the parcel. Her heart sank a bit. Her name and address were hand-written in block letters, and there was no return address on the envelope. It felt slightly heavy in her hands and there was a bulge at the bottom of the envelope. It certainly didn't feel like a college acceptance letter. She tore open the top of the envelope and reached in, pulling out a few pieces of paper, some thick. Reaching farther into the envelope, she was surprised to find what felt like a mobile phone. She pulled it out. It was, indeed, a cell phone, one of the cheap "candy bar" variety. Confused, she rifled through the papers. And, all of a sudden, her heart felt like it stopped completely. The stack of papers turned out to be a single sheet of paper and several large, glossy photographs. Photographs she recognized. Intimately. She looked away for a moment. This was a nightmare. It couldn't be real. She looked back. It was real. Her legs were splayed across the glossy paper, her face clearly visible above her heaving young breasts. Her fingers were at her pussy, spreading her lips wide open and displaying her pink. On her chest was written "Hello /b/ - 3/10/09 2:51 AM" in black marker. Feeling numb, the sound of blood rushing through her ears, her face burning, Emmy flipped to the next photo, even though she already knew what she would find. She found herself staring at close-up of herself, her hands lifting one of her breasts to her mouth, her tongue hanging out and flicking across her nipple. As she stared at the photograph, horrified, she felt an echo of the way her nipples had felt that night as she licked them and took photographs of herself. To her horror, now, she brought a hand to her breasts and felt her nipples becoming hard again. Between her legs, a warm itch was beginning to spread. She flipped to the next photograph. This one was even more obscene; Emmy on her bed, facing away from the camera, her hands reaching back, spreading her cheeks open to display her asshole. Inserted all the way up to the cap was the black sharpie marker she'd used to write on herself. Written on her ass was the word, "Here?" with an arrow pointing toward her anus. In a rush it all came back to her; how she'd been bored and couldn't sleep that night a month earlier. How she'd gone onto the internet, browsed the anonymous image board her ex-boyfriend had introduced her to, where girls often took photos of themselves and posted them up for other users to rate. How, after her first few photographs, all totally vanilla, the forum trolls had responded with "Tits or GTFO," which she'd learned was their standard response. How their repeated posts had gradually worn her down as she posted non-nude after non-nude photograph of herself, drawing their ire. How finally she'd accepted, taking a single photograph of her breasts. How they'd chastised her for not "time-stamping" the photograph, and how she'd blushed as she scribbled the date and time on her chest. How their reactions and constant encouragement had driven her farther and farther, until she'd herself masturbating in front of her camera, taking photographs on a time-delay. Dozens of photographs. How they'd told her to put a sharpie in her pooper, and how she'd rushed to do so, to satisfy their demands. It all came rushing back to her, how she'd felt scared but totally aroused at the same time as she let these anonymous boys see first her breasts, then her pussy, then her asshole, then her fucking herself with a sharpie, in the vagina and the anus, then worked her way up to a hairbrush handle. How she'd finally wound up impaling her cunt on her bed post while her camera snapped happily away, squatting up and down as the smooth wood penetrated her vagina as she filled her ass with the hairbrush handle. How she'd finally collapsed on the bed, exhausted from the show, after two straight hours. Emmy had posted hundreds of photographs of herself, and had received thousands of comments and replies from users. And now all of that was staring her in the face in glossy high definition color. On each photograph was stamped her fully name, Emmy Samantha Lawrence, her age, her high school, her home address and telephone number. Emmy was shocked. She couldn't believe what was happening. Someone had identified her. Someone had recognized her somehow, and they had photographs to prove it. She flipped through the rest of the photographs, her heart pumping faster and faster, until she came to the plain sheet of white paper she'd passed up. There was one sentence printed in the middle of the paper in stark black and white: "Call me." With a start she remembered the phone. It sat on her bed where she'd dropped it, looming. Her hands trembling, Emmy picked up the phone, a small nokia with a camera. She powered on the mobile phone, listened to the chime as it powered up. Once it was on she pulled up the phonebook. There was only one number listed there. The name said, "Me." Heart pumping, fingers shaking, Emmy pressed the "Dial" button and raised the phone to her ear. It rang, two times, and then she heard a click. She said nothing, and there was silence on the other end of the phone. Then she heard breathing. "Hello?" Emmy said, her voice sounding small in her ears. "Emmy," said the voice on the other end of the phone. "Emily Lawrence. Four-oh-five Central Ave, Dawson, Ohio." She caught her breath. "Sixteen years old. Senior at Dawson high school. Excellent grades, top of her class. Skipped her sophomore year. Applied for early acceptance at Stanford. " Emmy couldn't believe what she was hearing. Whoever this was on the other end of the phone seemed to know everything about her. Before she had a chance to speak he continued. "Parents Melinda and George Lawrence. George Lawrence, aged 42, high profile defense attorney at Lawrence, Sullivan and Sullivan. Melinda Lawrence, aged 37, successful real estate agent. One brother, Brian Lawrence, aged 21, Junior at Ohio State University majoring in Sociology." Finally Emmy snapped out of her paralysis. "Who are you?" she asked, fear in her voice. "Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, and I know exactly what you did. As you've probably already guessed from the photographs I sent you." Emmy's eyes fell again on the pile of photographs. "Now we both know that a smart girl like you can't have photographs like those getting around. It would ruin your chances at getting into Stanford, not to mention the other seven universities you've applied at. It would ruin your parents' careers. "In short, if I released those photographs, it would ruin your entire life." The voice on the other end of the phone let the last statement hang in the air between the two phones. Emmy could hear her heart beating in the silence. Finally she spoke. "What do you want from me?" "Right now I want you to sit down and turn on your laptop," said the voice on the other end of the phone. Emmy did as he said, sitting at her desk and powering on the laptop. It was a top of the line machine, a gift from her parents for her excellent grades, and it was fully running within a matter of seconds. "Are you sitting in front of it?" asked the voice. "Yes," said Emmy. "Good. Now start Yahoo Messenger and sign in with the credentials I'm about to give you." She started up the program and typed in the username and password he gave her. It worked and in a few seconds she was logged in. "This isn't my Yahoo account," she protested. "There are already thousands of buddies on this account." Indeed there were - the buddy list on the program must have contained four or five thousand names. She scrolled through the list and saw that many were online. "It's an account I set up for you," said the voice on the other end of the phone. "Those buddies on that list are people who've all been promised a webcam show from a hot underage girl." Emmy's heart skipped a beat. "You mean-" "Yes," said the voice on the phone. "That girl is you. Now open up your webcam." "No," started Emmy. "Isn't there something else-" "Open up the webcam, Emmy," said the voice on the phone. "Open it up in the next thirty seconds or I'll click the submit button on this email to Stanford and the other schools you've applied to with those photos attached to it." Emmy felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. She couldn't believe this was happening. If only she could go back in time, stop herself from posting those photographs, from showing herself t o those anonymous forumers... "Tick tock, Emmy," said the voice. "You've got fifteen seconds left." That snapped her out of it. She pulled open the menu and clicked the "Open my webcam"' button. On the screen in front of her a window popped open and she saw herself, watching the screen. Within seconds, she saw the list of people watching her webcam begin to fill. Quickly she adjusted the webcam so that her face wasn't visible. "Ah, there we go," said the voice on the other end of the phone. "That's better. It's nice to see you again." Emmy's blood ran cold as she realized that the voice on the other end of the phone was one of the people watching her. She scanned through the list but before she could even begin to take in the names already there, more and more started popping up. Within fifteen seconds, hundreds of people had logged onto her webcam. "Now move the camera so we can all see your pretty face." "No," she started again. "I don't want them to-" "I don't care what you want, Emmy. If you say `no' to me one more time I'm sending these photos." Instant messages began to pop up on her screen. She glanced at a few. "WOW! I can't believe you're real," said one. "Get those tits out," said another. "You going to cam?" read a third. The voice on the other end of the phone spoke. "They're watching you, aren't they, Emmy? Are they talking to you yet?" "Yes," she replied, the tears welling up in her eyes. She sniffed them back and said, "What do you want?" "I want you to take off your sweater," said the voice. Trembling, Emmy did so, pulling the fabric up and over her head. She had a lacy bra on underneath, holding in her full C-cup breasts. She'd been an early developer and her breasts had long been the topic of whispers in the school hallway. "Very nice, Emily," said the voice. "Now you know what I'm going to ask you to do next." Unable to hold back, Emily began to weep openly. "Ah ah ah," said the voice. "We're trying to make a lot of people very happy, so chin up and stop crying." "I'm s-sorry," she blathered. "It's just-" "I know, I know," said the voice. "It's horrible being forced to do this in front of so many people. But just remember, you were perfectly happy to do this yourself the other night." That was true, realized Emily. In fact, it had made her so horny, letting those strangers see her pussy, that she'd masturbated herself to a blinding orgasm, even squirting a bit at the peak of it. She tried to get back into that groove now as she reached behind her and fumbled with the clasp of her bra. "That's right," said the voice on the phone. "Let's see them." She freed the clasp and brought her hands up to her shoulders, sliding the straps off. She hesitated for a moment, the thin fabric held on only by her hands, and then let it fall. Her sixteen year-old breasts sprang free. On the webcam Emmy was shocked to see that her nipples were rock hard. "Now rub them." She complied, bringing both hands up to squeeze her breasts. Despite the horror of what was happening to her, the itch between her legs grew strong. She rubbed her legs together, trying to ignore it, but each time her fingers pinched her nipples it sent waves of pleasure through her body. "Lick them like you did the other night." She brought one breast up to her mouth and slowly flicked her tongue across it. It felt incredible. She brought the other up, pulled them both up and together so she could get her tongue on both nipples at the same time. The salty taste of her sweat filled her mouth; she'd rushed home from school. "Excellent work, Emmy." "Is that it? Can we be done?" Her voice sounded small and weak in her ears, quivering. On the other end of the phone she heard laughter. "Come on, now, Emily. We both know what you're capable of. I want you to do what you did to yourself the other night. All of it." Emmy closed her eyes as she realized that this wasn't going to end quickly. Then she stood up and pulled down the zipper of her skirt, letting the thin fabric fall to the floor. On her screen, she had literally hundreds of messages popping up, too many to take in. The ones she could see were mostly people voicing approval, and several telling her what to do. She knew what they wanted to see. Emmy slid down the pink panties, felt the cool breeze blowing across her shaved vagina. Fully naked now, she sat back in the chair at her computer desk. "Spread those legs," said the voice on the phone. "I want to see that pussy of yours." Resigned to her fate, Emmy complied, slowly opening her legs in front of the camera. "Mmmm, that's beautiful," said the voice on the phone. "Now finger yourself for all of us to see." Emmy brought one hand down to her vagina and slid it up from the bottom of her cunt to the clitoris. She was soaking wet, unbelievably so. She couldn't remember ever having been this wet. On the webcam she could see a stain spreading across her computer chair where her pussy juices dripped down and met the fabric. As her fingers touched her clit, electricity poured through her body from her toes to her fingertips. It felt incredible. She began to run her pussy harder, faster. Finally, her fingers soaked with juices, she slid one finger inside, feeling the warmth and tightness of her young pussy wrap around her. Not content with one, she slipped in another. "That feels good, doesn't it?" Emmy said nothing, but even she could hear the sound of her own heavy breathing on the phone. "You're enjoying this, you know. You might not realize it, but this is just the kind of slut you are. You like having hundreds of strangers staring at your sopping wet cunt." Emmy shook her head, but as she did she knew that the stranger on the phone spoke the truth. Her sopping cunt didn't lie. "Show us the fingers," he said. Emmy brought them up to her face, held them in front of the webcam. They were gleaming with vaginal fluids. "Now lick them clean." Like a robot, Emmy put the fingers into her mouth, tasting the salty pussy juice that coated them. She licked them until she couldn't taste it anymore, swallowing the flavor. "Now, Emily, I want you to turn around and show us that sweet little asshole of yours." Emmy didn't even object this time, just turned herself around on the chair, got onto her knees. Looking behind her, she could see her ass framed perfectly in the webcam. She held the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she reached back and parted her ass cheeks, revealing her tight, light brown anus. She felt something strange welling up inside of her. When she spoke she couldn't believe how her voice sounded. "Is that what you want to see?" she asked, her voice thick and throaty, tinged with lust. "You want to see this little asshole?" "Oh yeah," said the voice. "I've got my cock in my hand right now, jerking off watching you." "Tell me what you want," she said. "Tell me what to do to myself." "Three fingers in your ass, now," said the voice. Emmy didn't wasted any time, dipping her fingers into her cunt, coating them with her slippery juices. Bringing her hand back up to her asshole, she used one hand to spread a cheek open and slid a finger into her bowels with the other. It was tight and she had trouble getting it inside. Finally it popped in and she marveled at how good it could feel to have something up your ass. "I said three, Emmy." Her heart pumping, Emmy pulled her finger out, coated all three fingers with her pussy juices, then brought it up to her mouth and spat on it for lubrication. Bringing the hand back to her asshole, she crossed the three fingers together and pressed against her asshole with them. It felt impossible. Emmy was scared for a moment. What would the voice on the other end of the phone do if she wasn't able to meet his demands? As if reading her mind, he said, "If you don't get those three fingers up your asshole in the next minute I click send." Heart racing, Emmy pushed against her anus. With excruciating slowness, she felt her anus begin to give way to the fingers. She kept pushing until the first knuckle of all three fingers had entered her ass. "Keep going," said the voice on the phone. "I don't want to see any knuckles on that hand." Determined, Emmy took a deep breath and tried to relax herself. Miraculously, it seemed to work. The fingers slid further and further into her ass until, as demanded, she had worked them in up to the second knuckle. Still she pushed, until they were in as far as she could get them. "I'm so proud of you!" said the voice on the phone. "Now finger bang your asshole with those fingers." Despite the humiliation, the fear, some part of Emily was glad to comply. Her asshole seemed to be defying her; it wanted to be filled. She began to slide the three fingers in and out of her asshole, working them farther and farther in each time. It both hurt and felt great at the same time. She continued to ass fuck herself, feeling the pussy juices leaking out and dripping onto the chair beneath her. After a few minutes the voice on the phone said, "Now show us how that tight little asshole looks. Take both hands and spread it open." Emmy was almost sad to feel the three fingers exiting her ass. She reached back with both hands and spread her cheeks. "No," said the voice. "I mean spread that asshole. Get a finger on both hands in and open it up for us." Emily couldn't believe what she was hearing, but her hands seemed to be on auto-pilot. She slipped her middle finger of both hands into her ass and slowly began to stretch. Looking back at the webcam, she could clearly see the tiny dark circle at the center of her rosebud begin to open. Still she stretched, and stretched. As it widened she slid both index fingers in and pulled even harder. Soon Emmy's anus was gaping wide open for the strangers to see. She began to wonder what all of the viewers were doing; probably jerking off, she suspected. She held her anus wide open, feeling the air blow into it. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. "Go get the hairbrush, Emmy," said the phone. "Get the hairbrush and the sharpie and double-fuck yourself until you cum." Both were within arms reach. Emmy grabbed them, put each one into her mouth to lube it up, and then reached behind her with both hands. Her pussy was so wet and her asshole stretched so wide that they both went in easily. She pushed each one in as far as she could; the hairbrush was nothing more than bristles poking out of her pussy, the sharpie marker nothing more than a pen cap. She began to work them in and out, feeling the waves of pleasure rippling through her body as she penetrated herself. The itching between her legs spread and spread as she worked, her breathing becoming ragged. Despite her hatred at the man on the phone, her body was racing toward an orgasm and she was powerless to stop it; in fact, she wanted it, badly. She plunged the devices in and out of her asshole and pussy, faster and faster, until finally the orgasm washed over her. She almost shouted out with pleasure as it washed over her in waves of warmth, leaving her tingly and trembling and weak. As it finally subsided she remembered herself, remembered where she was, what she was doing. Remembered that hundreds of men she'd never even seen before today had just watched her perform a double penetration on herself, most of them probably masturbating to ejaculation as she worked herself over. She leaned over the back of the chair for a moment, before turning back around to face the webcam. Her face was flushed, her hair stuck to her head with sweat from the exertion. Scrolling through the webcam window, she guessed that more than a thousand people were now watching her. "Are we done now?" asked Emmy. "You got what you wanted. Will you leave me alone now?" Again she heard laughter on the other end of the phone. "We're finished for today, Emily Lawrence of Dawson Ohio. I came while I was watching you, you know." "I'm so glad to hear that," she said sarcastically. "You should be," said the voice. "I'm going to freeze it, and at some point in the future, I'm going to mail you a whole lot of it, and then you're going to swallow it." Her heart sank again as realization washed over her. This wasn't going to end today. This wasn't a one-time thing. "We're done for today," said the voice on the phone. "But we're just getting started. I've got big plans for you." With that, the phone clicked. Emily looked at it - whoever the stranger on the other end of the phone was, he was gone. She looked at the computer screen, saw herself framed in the window. She clicked the webcam off. The image disappeared. The chat windows stayed open, though - thousands of people telling her that they'd just masturbated watching her. Emily logged off of Yahoo and closed the program, then crashed down on her bed, exhausted. The entire experience had left her completely drained; the realization that she was being blackmailed, the fear, the arousal and the overpowering orgasm it had all come together as in the end. As she drifted off into sleep, the last thing young Emily Lawrence thought was what it would be like to get down on her hands and knees and let that list of a thousand guys do whatever they wanted to her.