Elf Blackmail

>It's a bit after 1p, your usual lunch in the parking garage just as routine as your weekly schedule at the office
>Something catches your eye in the break room when you go to dispose of your empty can
>Pointed ears, a faint hint of sandalwood and what looks like a nice handful of bosom underneath the blouse of a straw-blonde elf
>It isn't until you notice the beauty mark under her right eye you recognize her

>Freshman year at high school, you recall, P.E. was the worst time if you didn't have a monstergirl who'd vouch for you
>the blonde in question, your biggest tormentor for a few months along with her clique of teenage treetossers
>she was anything but the prim and proper little princess she pretended to be, or her entourage for that matter
>they'd put your shorts in their lockers so you'd ask for them back, go under the belt when it came time for stretching, and worst you remember this little number in particular tying your shoelaces around your wrist and ankles so she could rub you off in the shed when the teacher asked you to put away the equipment
>sometime after, probably before mid-terms, something pushed you over the edge
>you feigned a sprain on the track for this chance
>you waited for her to be all alone, just after the other knife-eared hyenas got into the shower
>she didn't expect you to squeeze yourself in a girl's locker, or for you to tackle her onto the floor
>that same scent of sandalwood, thick in her hair
>she looked up at you, shocked that her favorite pair of shorts had the stones to jump her in the girl's locker room with a sizable erection rubbing against her
>the way her neck felt in your palms always gives you the shivers to this day
>you remember giving her one warning; come after school to settle it alone or you'd ruin her for marriage
>she nodded before her lips started turning blue, accepting what you had in mind for her that day

>The wait for that final bell was maddening not only from the encounter to come, but because the image of that elf's face in fear tickled something deep inside you
>you practically skip out into the halls when classes dismissed, your destination in mind
>the boy's locker room; a place only a lunatic that wanted to be less than 40 feet from the girls' side could brave, and you're fairly sure you counted that description
>it was a short wait, the straw-haired knife ear avoiding your eyes
>she wanted to pay you restitution in exchange for her virginity, and as a gesture of good will she would see you had no problems for the rest of your school life
>You accepted on one other condition you remember to this day
>Her pretty little lips around your cock, and a picture to make sure she never broke her promise
>She looked into your eyes with tears the entire time you used her throat for yourself, grabbing her hair like reins
>Not a single whimper, even as you finished deep inside her slathering mouth
>her lips were white with your seed as you snapped that vacant look on her face
>the face that haunted her throughout the rest of school
>you realized one thing about elves after that day
>It's all the more fun to torment an elf by reminding them of embarrassments, years after the fact you fucked her throat senseless in the locker room with photos as proof
>From that day on, she begged you to never reveal them

>In your reminiscing she recognizes you, that same horrified expression coming back into your memory
>She begs you not to pass them around the coworkers; all the leverage you needed to turn her back into that sluttly little elf who gave you head under the cafeteria table throughout your school years coming into play before you
>A similar exchange, this time with no photos, under your desk
>Workplace encounters were discouraged, but not outwardly forbidden so long as you kept it private
>By the time you clock out at the end of the day, the pretty little treetosser has to fix herself up in the bathroom after giving you head for two-hours under the cubicle
>you wait by her car, the same her daddy bought her for her graduation present, with the biggest shit-eating grin on your face as she approaches
>the photos in your hand, she knows what you're after
>she doesn't even bother to beg you this time, unlocking the doors and opening up her blouse as she lays on the backseat
>you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you jump right onto her bared chest
>as you're rocking your hips into her firm boobs, she stifles her moans as you take her on a trip down memory lane on prom night
>she starts losing control of her lips as full-blown quenya starts leaking out of her mouth, you were never really fluent enough to tell what she was moaning at you
>you oblige regardless, and after a good three-ish minutes after your eruption the backseat (and her face) look like they had an unfortunate accident in a glue vat
>The elf, struggling to catch her breath, whispers something in plain english to your ear

"You're terrible, blackmailing me into this like back then... if you wanted sex, you could have just asked me during lunch."
>You peck her on the forehead, zipping your fly and moving into the driver's seat
>To think they said you can't fall in love high school
>You fell for a closet-masochist elf who needed a good grip to set her on the right path
"I still want those pictures burned, you pervert."