Quote:
Originally Posted by prey4me
Given that rape, blackmail, extorted and otherwise non-consensual sex is enriched by shame and despair, these thoughts on blackmail really intensify it for me:
I envision an ever-escalating scheme of entrapment, psychological enslavement, and guilt. You might start out by revealing just a portion of the compromising material, and asking for "an occasional blowjob" for "consideration and appreciation, keeping things hush-hush."
Perhaps I would insist that my victim wear clothes that I like and pose and model for me--no nudity, but very exotic and risque.
Then reveal more of the damning evidence, and raise the stakes to a few basic fucks. But get them captured and imaged in one way or another.
Now the victim is getting deeply ensnared. Turn her into my obedient fuck bitch. Call her at irregular hours, and start making her interrupt her regular life and schedule to come (hither) and service me. Make her start lying to other people when we have our get-togethers.
Make her wear lingerie that I like. Get her to engage in increasingly strange and perverted (to her) acts.
The ultimate shaming, victimization, and control? pimping her out to my friends. (That's you guys, you know!)  |
I like how the control and degradation crescendos. If I were the victim, I envision part of the desperation is trying to maintain a facade of a normal life outside this increasingly out-of-control trap. At first it's easy to compartmentalize this situation, but as time goes on, it becomes increasingly difficult and desperate.
I picture myself at a social function with my friends, try to conceal my crestfallen expression as I hear your terse, inflexible voice on the other end of the line. I get off the phone, making lying excuses to my friends. Then cut to me in a dirty gas station bathroom changing into on one the outfits that you have specified for me, changing my hair and makeup. The gas station guys snicker and elbow each other as I click-clack across the concrete back to my car.