Blackmailing the Queen

Chapter 2 – Seeing What Develops

No darkroom at home, and the school closed until monday, I put my precious roll of black and white film in a safe place and tried to make the time pass quickly. I'd taken the photos on friday night, and saturday I had a date with Theresa Mills. I thought about cancelling it, since my mind was filled with distractions, but then I remembered how nice a distraction Theresa could be, and I took her to the Lake.

Theresa was catholic, so her limits were pretty firm, but she had nice tits and let me fondle and suck them while she jacked me off. All I could think of as she stroked my cock was Bill Arnold's dong in Ann Macafee's hand, and later in her mouth. I'd asked Theresa for a blowjob before and been turned down, but I asked again. Her refusal, the sweet lie that it was ("I'd love to suck this nice dick for you, but it's just too big for my little mouth"), was all the more frustrating. I wanted to imagine it was Ann sucking me. Oh well. I told her I was going to come and she increased her tempo and brought a wad of kleenex to the tip to catch the flow. Such a well-prepared girl.

I rubbed her tits and french kissed her, two things she never seemed to get enough of, and she jacked me off again about a hour later. It was a nice date, but it did little to relieve my delicious tension. All I wanted to do was develop that roll of film.

Sunday crawled by, and I hardly slept that night. I went in to school as early as I could, waited for the darkroom to open, and cut my morning classes. I was aware that my haste could ruin this priceless piece of film, so I deliberately made myself slow down. I went into the blackout booth and loaded the reel with the film. Twice my fingers slipped – loading a reel by hand is no easy trick under the best of circumstances – but I finally got the strip into the can and delevoped it with painstaking attention to time and temperature.

The negatives were perfect. They were so crisp, so defined. I could not believe my luck. I was aware of how dangerous it was to print anything when at any moment an instructor or a student might glance over to see what I was doing, but the darkroom was pretty empty and I just had to make a contact sheet at least.

I let the negs dry, then cut them into strips of six. I laid them onto some glossy stock and made a contact print. I developed the thing face down, maddening though that was, and squeegied and dried it that way. I did not look at it until I was alone in a stall in the boys room.

What a treasure. Ann's look of concentration as she stroked that cock.

Ann's pretty lips stretched around that thick, bent cockhead. Ann's averted eyes and submissive posture as the come dripped off her chin.

I drew out my hard dick and came in four slow strokes, my come pouring into the toilet bowl. If only that could be my dick, I thought. If only he had convinced her to fuck him, or even just to strip – I'd love to have photos of those tits and that pussy…

In the calmness that follows a good orgasm, I reflected that I could get in real trouble if anyone saw these photos. Of course, there was no way to link them to me unless they were found on my person, still…

Then I grinned. I grinned probably the biggest grin of my life. Me get in trouble? Not anything like the trouble Ann could get into. I had her. Boy, did I ever. A vast and limitless universe of possibility opened before me. I had her taking coke and giving head to a sleazebag. "Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you," I said quietly to myself. Such a warm feeling to anticipate the future, when such vistas of pleasures lie ahead.

I quickly returned to the darkroom and made a second contact sheet, dangerous though that was, then put the negatives and one sheet into an envelope and went home at lunch to hide the package inside the air vent grille in my room. I did not hide the second contact sheet, though. I had big plans for that one.

I wrote on the back of the sheet:

"Dear Ann. These photos will enjoy a wide distribution to the police, your parents, and the shool population at large unless we can reach an agreement. Imagine hundreds of copies of the picture with Bill Arnold's dick in your mouth or Bill Arnold coming on your face, distributed all over campus. Imagine pictures of you snorting coke being sent to the cops. Imagine a copy of this contact sheet finding its way to your father's office, or to your home and your mother. If you wish to avoid all these things, meet me at the Fish and Chips shop in the Sanderson Mall today after school. We can discuss my terms. Don't worry, I can be reasonable, but don't imagine I am bluffing. I have nothing to lose by publishing these as 8 x 10 glossies."

I folded the sheet into four and put it in an envelope marked "Open in Private!". I went back to school, cut another class, and, when I was sure I was not being observed, slipped the envelope into her locker through the vent. At first it stuck, and I paniced a little, but a little back-and-forth action made it slip right through.

I waited until the next bell rang, then stood across the quad looking through a telephoto lens at Ann's locker. The hubub of the betweenclass activity hid me perfectly, and after two minutes or so I spied her heading toward her locker. She looked just as she always did, aloof and superior. I could not believe that such a debasing scene did nothing to change her attitude, but she clearly still held herself "above it all."

Just for a few moments longer, Ann, I thought.

She opened her locker and the envelop fell to the ground. I must have gasped a little when another girl picked it up, looked at it, and handed it to her. She said something, probably intended to be witty, but Ann frosted her with a snooty look and the girl walked away. Ann read the envelope, closed her locker, and walked over to sit on the planter that surrounded the flagpole. Checking to see that no one was near, she opened the envelope and unfolded the sheet.

She must have opened it to the photo side first, because her face went white, her eyes grew large as saucers, and she clasped the sheet immediately to her chest to hide the side where the photos where. She looked around again, frantic, then noticed the writing on the reverse side. She stuffed the sheet back into the envelope without reading it, then ran off to the girls room, looking a little ill.

I chuckled to myself. Ann looked about as un-superior as a person could, stumbling frantically off to the bathroom clutching sex photos of herself. I knew she was going there to read the note, to scan the photos again in disbelief. I knew she was scared and suffering, and in the darkest reaches of my heart I felt great. She was, I guess, a symbol for all the elite people of the world, to me. She was the embodiment of all the things a normal person never gets to have.

Well, this time it was going to be different. Very, very different.