Bar trap Part 2

He was the stereotypical type of man you would think of to find in a
tattoo and piercing parlour: lots of piercings in his face and many
tattoos on his forearms, dressed in dirty jeans and a plain black T-
shirt. He came around the counter, went to the door, locked it and put
a "Busy" sign on the handle. Then he walked past us and made a sign to
follow him into the backroom, where he apparently was going to do the
piercings.

"You were right, she's really hot!" He scanned my whole body, then, to
my surprise, touched my lips with his forefinger and stroked along
them. "Nice full suck-lips!" With that, he pushed between them, "Open
up, girl!"

I couldn't think straight, the whole situation was so wrong. Up to then
it was Marc and mainly older clients who had touched and used me, but
only in the confined, and by now familiar space, of one of the
backrooms at Marc's bar. But now, this stranger, who was about my age,
and in a different place that didn't remind me at all of the
whorehouse-like feeling I connected by now to my usual "workplace"?! I
looked in fear at Marc and he only made a quick nod.

So I parted my heavily painted lips and let his finger in. He pushed in
and out a few times, then told me to suck on it. I just did it. When I
thought about it afterwards, and even when I am writing this now, I
wonder why I didn't speak up, run away, get out of the whole situation
as soon as possible, no matter what the outcome would have been - the
same with letting Marc fuck and use me in the beginning of this whole
nightmare.

But then I always come to the conclusion that I would do it probably
exactly the same way again. The thought of getting exposed, of my wife
and my friends believing that I am a pervert who sucks cock and gets
fucked up the ass secretly, a closet sicko, who doesn't care about his
wife and about how dangerous it is to have sex, even if protected, with
many different men. That's enough to make me endure what I am
blackmailed to do.