Blackmailed Into Servitude Ch. 01-04

"Well, well, well," the smirking man says in a playful tone as he rises from the office chair, "the curly-haired crook returns to the scene of the crime..." As the man who appears to be about five-foot-ten strolls around the desk, he picks up the thick envelope that was sitting near the edge. "Not that I'm surprised. Figured you'd choose a sit-down with me over a jail cell and a court battle."

I force a smile. "Offering me a way to make things right instead of turning me in was very generous of you," I croak as sincerely as possible, "so thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Bonham... Also, I'm so sorry for what happened last week."

"Sure thing. And thanks for the apology," he says half-heartedly, his sin-filled, brown eyes fixated on me in a predatory way as he approaches the private investigator. "And please, call me Scott." Now he turns his attention to Jonathan Brady and extends the thick envelope to him. "Thanks for your services, sir."

Why does it feel like I've just been sold to this man?

The P.I. takes the envelope, with a curt nod. "Anytime, Mr. Bonham." The older man reaches into his pocket, pulls out my cellphone, and then holds it out to his employer.

"I'll be in touch," Scott says as he takes it.

P.I. Brady gives him another nod, turns without looking at me, and then exits the office, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Wait, is he leaving, leaving?" I ask, my eyes wide with fear.

Scott nods. "Yeah. But don't worry, I'll call ya an Uber when we're all done here. Just set your bag on the couch and have a seat over here, Oliva," he says as he walks back to his work station, gesturing to the seat on the opposite side of the desk from where he was sitting.

Ah crap... What did I get myself into?

Chapter 3:

Three Nights in the Booth Or...

Olivia 'Liv' Hartman | 18

Friday, September 30 ^th

Without a word, I set my bookbag down on the black, faux leather couch cushion—the one cushion that doesn't have gross, crusty white stuff on it—and then I shuffle over to the folding chair.

"So," Scott says right when I sit down, "before we get down to business..." He flops down onto his seat and then sighs in relief. "Just in case you were wondering, which I'm sure you are, I just wanna let you know that you're not here because Taylor ratted on you or anything. That sweet girl you abandoned and left to take the fall was as loyal as they come, unlike the rest of her so-called sorority sisters." A faint look of disgust flashes on his face. "She didn't tell me your names, how to find you—nothing."

The guilt I feel from hearing that leaves me too stunned to react, so I just stare at him.

"Wanna know how I found you?"

"Your private investigator used the license plate to find us, right?" I pipe up.

He shakes his head. "Nah. I got Taylor's full name from her license, so I was able to find her on Instagram. And since her account was public, I was able to see the pictures of you two, along with all her FSU and Sigma Lambda Tau posts. With all that information, it wasn't hard to identify the rest of you..." He scans my face for a moment, staring at me with something between desire and vengeful fury. "Oh, and speaking of Taylor... she confessed that you all robbing my business was a part of your sorority's initiation challenge. Is that right?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"And how many pledges were in your sorority this year?"

"Uh... Twenty."

His dark eyes widen with intrigue. "So, wait... did the fifteen other girls also rob sex shops in Tallahassee?"

I shrug. "I don't know where they had to go for their challenges."

"I see," he mutters as a sinister smile creeps across his face, like that revelation makes him happy instead of disappointed that there are more sorority thieves out there. "And did you get accepted to the sorority, or are you still rushing?"

"No, I officially became a sister this past Sunday."

His brows raise. "Taylor and the other three accomplices too?"

"Mm-hm."

A grin stretches across his face as he does a slow-clap. "Wow. Congratulations. I'm so glad that you all were able to become sorority members at my expense—at my business's expense!" he says in the most sarcastic voice ever.

I wince while shaking my head side-to-side. "I'm so sorry... Truly. I didn't even wanna do it. None of us did."

"But you still did anyway. And you didn't just take a bunch of cheap sex toys. No, you stole seven $500 dildos before I caught your accomplices shoplifting vibrators. Wait... I mean six $500 dildos. Because one dropped out when you yanked your bag of loot through the window," he says, gesturing to a veiny, fleshy, light-brown dong on the other end of his desk that's nestled between his second monitor and the wall. "Did you take the RealCock 2 dildos because you wanted to swipe some realistic toys or because your sorority sisters or president asked you to?"

"We were told exactly what to take," I confess despite the voice in my head screaming not to implicate Cindy. And after the words leave my mouth, I remember how the part of the security footage that showed me and Taylor in this office also recorded sound. Crap...

Scott nods. "Tell me something... Was putting your future on the line worth joining a sorority that required you to commit a felony to get in?"

I shake my head. "Honestly? No. If I could travel back in time to last week, I would bow out of the initiation process."

He slouches in his seat and crosses his arms. "But you can't go back. All you can do now to keep your life from turning into something out of Orange Is the New Black is to come to an arrangement with the store owner who decided to be generous enough to give you a chance to save your future... Have you watched Orange Is the New Black?"

I nod. "I have, and that's part of the reason I am so extremely grateful that you've chosen to be so very generous, Scott." I clasp my hands together. "Just tell me what I need to do to make things right so that me and my friends don't have to go to jail for that stupid initiation challenge."

The smirk that appears on his Face is so devious that it makes me nervous. "I take it that Detective Brady filled you in on how much time you and your friends are facing should I submit the surveillance footage of your robbery to the authorities?"

I nod. "Yes, he did."

"And he disclosed to you how cases like these turned out for the pledges who went to trial for hazing-related thefts?"

"Yes."

"So, Olivia... my question to you now is, what's your freedom and your future worth to you? What are you willing to do to keep from losing what could very well be five years of your life?"

Being asked that gives me pause. It gives me pause because I know when men with leverage ask desperate girls questions like that, it's usually followed by a depraved proposition of a sexual nature. "I'd do—I'd do almost anything," I mutter in hopes that saying almost lets him know there are lines I won't cross.

"I see... Well, you've got two options to clear your name, so hopefully one of them will be something you'd consider."

I want to ask if he's going to coerce me into doing something sexual with him, but I decide against it just in case that offends him or in case it motivates him to ask. "Uh... Okay... And what are the options?"

"Option number one is... Well... Do you know what a gloryhole booth is?"

My heart skips a beat and my eyes damn-near bulge out of my skull. "Um... yes. But why are you asking me that? You're not planning on locking me in a booth and pimping me out, are you?"

Scott smirks and shakes his head. "First of all, I would never lock you in a booth. You wouldn't be a prisoner while you're here, you'd just be an employee who can walk out whenever she's ready."

"An employee who'd suck off guys for money, right?"

"No... Women come here all the time for anonymous fun, and they don't do what they do for money. How it works in my shop is, when a promiscuous young woman strolls in looking to mess around, I simply call my list of regulars. And once those gentlemen come in, they submit official, recent blood-work results showing that they're STD-free, and then they pay the premium to rent out the arcade rooms for whatever it is they choose to do during their allotted twenty-minute sessions. So, for option one, what I'm asking you is: would you willingly want to service anonymous men for free this weekend while I'm up-front collecting admission fees?"

My jaw drops as my eyes bulge even more than before. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he says somewhat sternly.

My head shakes side-to-side, not to say no but as a manifestation of my disbelief. "Wait... Taylor said her aunt and uncle paid you for all the crap we stole, so why did you bring me here to suck dick for money?"

"Again, you're not servicing patrons for money. And Taylor's family did pay for what was stolen, which is why you'd just be working in the booth until you've earned the monetary equivalent of the amount it'd take to convince me not to turn you in."

My entire body is visibly trembling now, and my eyes are burning. "Oh? And exactly how many random dicks would I have to service to make that happen?" I sass despite trying super hard to keep cool.

Scott snickers. "Well, I have, a list of about 200 regulars, and I'd be willing to delete the footage and forget what all of you girls did here last Friday if you were to take care of all of them."

"What?!" I shriek. "You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking."

"No, I'm dead serious..."

"There's no fricken way I'm blowing 200 guys! That's disgusting!"

He snickers while trying to suppress a smile. "Well, technically, you wouldn't be orally servicing all of them since about half of my regulars tend to only pay for a full-service booth rental."

"And what's full-service?" I search is eyes intensely for the answer in the brief silence that follows. "Like, vaginal intercourse?" I blurt out before he can respond.

Scott nods slowly and dramatically. "Condom optional. And they can finish wherever they want."

My face scrunches up. "Ewww! What? No! I'd rather go to jail than let a hundred random guys inseminate me through a hole in the wall on top of having to blow the same number of men! Just... eww! Like, what's wrong with you? What kind of man proposes that as a blackmail option instead of what guys in your situation normally ask a girl?"

"The kind of man who's a vengeful, criminal-hating, porn-obsessed bastard that owns a sex shop with a popular gloryhole setup?" he says with a smirk. "And the kind of man who'd rather make a lot of money instead of coercing a girl nearly half my age into having sex with him."

I blink away the tears. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not gonna choose that option no matter what."

He grins instead of looking disappointed like I expect. "You sure?"

"Oh, I'm very sure! Because there's no way I'd be able to live with myself after doing something like that."

"What if I told you that I just read about how 21 percent of female inmates are raped by fellow inmates? Can't imagine how many ladies would flock to a beautiful, rather innocent young girl like yourself after they see you walk into the cellblock for the first time... I mean, how is the risk of getting shanked and sexually assaulted while incarcerated not worse than willingly having risk-free, once-in-a-lifetime fun in a gloryhole booth for a weekend?"

A montage of all the horrible things I've seen happen to women in Orange Is the New Black and in prison documentaries flashes in my mind, sending sickening fear buzzing through my entire being. "You said there were two options, right?"

"Mm-hm," he says, giving me a curt nod.

"So, what's the second option?"

As though he's pausing for dramatic effect, he sits there staring at me in silence for a good five seconds or so. "Your choices are: you either do three nights in the booth or... you just service me every day for the next... let's say—let's say for today and the entire month of October plus one additional week. That's one week of service for every $1,000 in products that were stolen from me."

I snicker reflexively and shake my head as my eyes flood with tears again. "I knew that was coming eventually... As soon as your private investigator told me that you were holding off on turning in the evidence until we could work out an arrangement, I knew that didn't mean you wanted me to work in your shop for free or something."

"And yet you decided to meet with me anyway," he growls darkly with a Cheshire grin. "Does that mean you came here prepared to give yourself to me in exchange for your freedom?"

I stare at him in silence, blinking away the tears while wiping the salty droplets from my cheeks. "Is this what you offered Taylor? Because she was a virgin before she disappeared for two days, and then she came back saying that she lost her virginity."

Scott smiles. "When Taylor told me that she was a virgin, I pumped the breaks on this proposal and instead opted to let her call her family so they could just repay me for what you girls stole. She was too sweet and innocent to ruin like that. I'm not that heartless." His smile grows darker.

"So... why me?" I mewl. "Why not one of the other girls?"

"If I'm being honest? It's because you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and I thought it'd be nice to have you as a... companion for a month or so since you don't seem like a bitch."

I sniffle. "Perfect... And, let me guess... you proposed the gloryhole booth option first so I'd be more inclined to pick this less extreme but still insanely messed-up option, right?"

"Yup. And if you're considering it," he says while opening the folder in front of him, "it may ease your mind to know that I, like my patrons, am STD-free..." He pushes some stapled papers over to me. "These are my results. I got tested Wednesday for every possible disease, and I haven't been with anyone since. Also, I have an email straight from the doctor's office if you wanna confirm that this paperwork came from the clinic's email address. I'll even let you call them to verify if you want."

"Of course you got tested in anticipation of me coming here today..." I mutter while scanning the list of diseases he was screened for, checking to make sure the that word Negative is next to all of them.

Scott shrugs. "What can I say? I like to be ready for anything."

"You know blackmailing someone into having sex is super illegal, right?"

"And so is stealing over $5,000-worth of goods from a store..." Scott stares at me for a few beats. "Listen, I'm not forcing you to do anything. If you wanna walk out, I'll return your phone to you and you can call the cops on me for what I just proposed to you. But, if you do that, I promise that you're the only one who'd be going to jail. Well, I mean the only one out of me and you, because all your accomplices will be going down with you. Well, except for Taylor. I won't press charges against her. But that doesn't mean she won't run the risk of losing her scholarship and getting kicked out of FSU once they learn she was involved in your heist scandal... And when the cops question me on your sexual coercion claims, I'd just say you're a lying thief and then I'd tell them that I actually offered you to work here until you paid off your debts. Look, I even have the paperwork for your employment right here..." He opens another folder and pushes over a packet titled Temporary Employee Contract—a contract that's got my name and today's date filled in the blanks.

From what I've just skimmed, the contract seems to stipulate that I'd work here until my hours of free labor at the current minimum wage rate makes up for the value of what was stolen.

"Also," Scott continues, "just so you know, I turned off the mics for the security cameras in here, so there's no evidence that I propositioned either option to you."

I sigh while shaking my head. "You really planned this out and covered all your bases, huh?"

"What can I say? I'm somewhat of a strategic genius."

No, you're a fucking predatory psychopath, I think, glaring at him.

"I can't tell if that look means you're upset at yourself because you're about to say you wanna go with option two or if it means you're pissed at me for my choice of punishment alternatives," he says after a short pause.

I cross my arms and avert my gaze.

"Okay then... Time's a-wastin', so what's it gonna be, criminal? Three nights in the booth servicing 200 gentlemen, thirty-seven days of being my personal, free use companion, or would you prefer to take your chances in court?"

I sigh and palm the upper half of my face, using my thumb and middle finger to massage my temples. Despite the fact that Scott's a creep of the highest order, letting him fuck me for a little over five weeks is still better than even a year in prison... It's not like I didn't have my first ever drunken one-night-stand with a frat douche I barely knew a few weekends ago... And it's not like I didn't suck off two random frat boys last Sunday in order to complete Sig-Lam-Tau's initiation ceremony... I mean, there's a reason I joined a sorority that treats hook-up culture like a religion. There's a reason I chose to rush a house whose motto is 'Frequent Sex, Safe Sex.' It also helps to know that Scott is STD-free...

"Uh..." I sigh again. "Fuck... Um... Can you tell me exactly what being your free use companion entails?"

"Of course. In fact, I can show you." Scott opens a third folder, pulls out another stapled packet, and then starts writing something on the top page. When he's done, he clicks his pen and then slides the papers over to me. "In a nutshell, you'll be agreeing to satisfy my needs however I want, as many times per day as I desire, whenever I ask until this sex contract ends. And don't worry, I promise I won't ask you to do some 50 Shades type of stuff or any of that Tijuana Burger Girl food-play, nor will I be abusive to you in any way, shape, or form. Unless you ask for it, of course... And, to start, I won't initiate anything. I'll let you take the lead and perform all activities on me until you're comfortable enough to let me take control." As I open my mouth to speak, he blurts out, "Before you answer, take a few minutes to read the sex contract I've written up so you have all the details. Full disclosure: the terms are non-negotiable."

Sniffling and wiping another tear from my cheek, I look from him to the packets on the table before me. By the time I'm finished reading through all the disgusting terms, conditions, and unthinkable acts I'd have to perform with and on this creep, my eyes are watering.

"This is bullshit, Scott," I croak, fighting off the urge to sob uncontrollably.

The smirking man across from me squints. "Which part?"

"Umm... All of it?" I slam my finger down on the second paragraph, hitting the table with a thud. "But let's start with this line that says how me signing this means that I'm swearing that I wasn't coerced into agreeing to the terms of this contract, which is what is clearly happening here."

He shakes his head. "I'm not forcing you to sign or agree to anything. I gave you two options, and I told you that you could walk whenever and face the repercussions of the crime you committed. And because I wanted to be upfront about exactly what I'd require of you, I laid everything out in writing as to not deceive you. So, if you choose to select this option and sign this agreement to avoid jail, that's on you, not me. There's no gun to your head."