Blackmailed Into Servitude Ch. 05-07

Cum... That's Scott's cum.

"Eww. Eww, eww, eww..."

That's when my eyes begin flooding with tears.

"Olivia?" the blurry female form behind the wheel of the compact SUV asks.

I sniffle while wiping the tears away. "Yup!" I say as cheerily as possible.

"I'm your Uber driver..." She eyes me unsurely during my approach. "Are you okay?"

"Mm-hm!" I yank open the back door and climb in, pulling the door shut behind me.

Now she stares at me in the rearview mirror. "You sure?"

I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. I uh... I just got some bad news, that's all."

"Aw, I'm sorry to hear that, darlin'," she says as the car lurches forward. "Hopefully things will get better for ya soon."

"Thanks! I'm sure they will!" I lie.

No they won't... There's nothing that'll ever make me feel better after what I just did in there... And things will surely only get worse over these next 43 days...

My eyes flood with tears again.

It's ironic... In paying the price for my freedom to keep my life from being ruined, I'm instead going to be doing irreparable damage to my mental health, and this whole ordeal will probably ruin sex for me forever...

Right before the tears begin streaming down my face, I shift closer to the driver's side door so that the woman behind the wheel won't see me crying in the rearview. That's when I feel more wetness in the crotch of my panties—Scott's gross, seminal reminder that my body is his to use however he wants.

Ugh... I feel so dirty...

"Oh, is it alright if we change the drop-off location?" I croak.

"Sure thing!" she says, slowing in the middle of the turn leading out of the parking lot. "Where to?"

"Ummm... could you take me to the CVS near campus? I think it's on the corner of Pensacola and Woodward."

Chapter 6:

Dirty

Olivia 'Liv' Hartman | 18

Friday, September 30 ^th

Great, it's in one of those annoying hard plastic boxes that needs to be cut open, I think, examining the Plan B that I just grabbed from the top shelf. Guess that means I can't just pop it open in the bag and take it during my walk after all.

Since I'd rather not have anyone see this shameful item I'm about to purchase, I keep the box low and check to make sure no one is near the register before leaving the aisle. When I put the emergency contraceptive and the berry-flavored Florus Vivo electrolyte drink on the counter, the cashier glances from my items to my face and then gives me this concerned, sympathetic look. I don't blame her. I used my phone's front camera to check my face before leaving the Uber, so I know my eyes are all red and puffy from the ten minutes of crying that I did on the way here—crying that didn't end until I calmed myself down five minutes ago.

"You okay?" the late twenty-something-year-old woman whispers while passing the Plan B over the scanner. Judging by her expression and the fact that a girl who's clearly been bawling her eyes out is buying a morning-after pill, I'm sure what she's really asking me is, 'Were you raped?'

That's a question most perceptive people would ask a visibly distraught female who's making this kind of purchase in a college town's CVS, which is why I'm glad this place is somewhat empty and void of any familiar faces. I don't need any rumors going around that I was sexually assaulted. Because I wasn't. As much as I didn't want to have sex with Scott, it was 100% consensual.

"Mm-hm. I'm alright," I respond with a smile, looking from her eyes to the item she's bagging. "My allergies are just acting up." That's the lie I prepared for this inevitable question.

The register beeps as she scans the beverage. "Oh... I know how that is," she says in a skeptical tone. "And—" After setting the bag on the counter, she taps something on the screen. "—your total is $57.23."

"Here's sixty," I mutter, extending the folded bills to her while taking the bag with my free hand. The moment she offers me my receipt and change, a cheery "Thank you!" leaves my mouth as I start toward the exit. Now I walk out the way I entered CVS—with my head down, using my curly mane to hide my face.

From here, I just have to walk around the corner, cross the street, and then I'll basically be home. Except, my residence hall isn't my destination. Yet. Instead, I'm heading to the on-campus garage that's a minute's walk from my dorm. That way, I can open this Plan B in my car, take it in privacy, and then dispose of the box in a trashcan where my roommate won't accidentally find it.

Slipping into a semi-conscious trance helps the five-minute trek go by in the blink of an eye. Zoning out also helps me ignore the wetness in the crotch of my panties that's smearing across my folds with each step.

The back corner of Traditions Way Garage's third floor is where my blue Volkswagen Jetta is parked. Per usual, it's burning up in my car when I climb behind the wheel, so I cut on the engine, put the air on full blast, and then I get to work carving away at the hard plastic with my sharpest key. Maybe a minute later, I make a hole big enough to tear it open and start wiggling the box out. I'm so anxious to take this thing that I don't bother reading the insert, I just remove the blister pack and pop the pill out right into my mouth.

Please work, I think, swallowing it down with a gulp of cold berry drink.

Pretty much right when I enter Magnolia Hall a minute later, I see my friend Monica 'Momo' Morello and two girls from my floor heading toward the elevators. Since I don't want them asking me why it looks like I've been crying, I duck into the stairwell before they turn around. One flight up, the gooey reminder Scott unloaded inside of me begins leaking out even more than it was during my walk from CVS, wetting the fabric of my underwear like I just peed a little or something. Every other step I take, the slick fabric slaps against my cooch, momentarily sticking to my folds until the subsequent step pulls the crotch of my undies away like a tissue coated in fresh Elmer's Glue being peeled off my flesh.

Dirty... Being all sticky and wet down there for this long makes me feel so unbelievably dirty... And I don't think three showers, a douching, and a pair of new undies will make me feel clean... Not that I'm allowed to change my panties or shower until tomorrow, anyway... I shake my head at the effed-up thought. Am I really gonna obey his command while he's not around?

Yes... Yes, you are... Because, on the off-chance that Scott comes to check in on me while I'm out or something, I don't wanna get spanked... I don't wanna get punished any worse than I'm already being punished.

Unbelievable... This is literally unbelievable.

Just as I'm emerging from the stairwell onto my floor, I catch a glimpse of Monica's door closing. Even though the coast is clear, that doesn't stop me from powerwalking to the end of the hallway. Because the only person I can tolerate talking to right now is my roommate.

As I slip my key into the lock, I don't hear any music or TV sounds coming from inside our dorm room, so I open the door quietly just in case Taylor is asleep. And her napping right now is very probable since I've walked in on her in bed half-asleep every day this week around this time. When the door opens wide enough for me to peek inside, I can instantly tell by how dark it is that the blinds are closed and our burgundy curtains are shut. As expected, I tiptoe into the room and glance over at my roommate's bed only to find a lump under her covers with a bit of blonde hair peeking out from between the comforter and the pillow covering her head.

After what I've been through today, my gut's telling me that Taylor being in bed at this time for the fifth day in a row isn't just because she's stressed like she claims, and I can't help but feel that something horrible happened to her to make her exhibit these textbook signs of depression—something horrible like what happened to me today. My intuition is telling me that because, after being blackmailed into having sex with the worst guy I've ever met, all I want to do is lay in bed for a week straight and cry every single minute that I'm alone.

You wouldn't be acting like this if Scott didn't blackmail you into giving him your virginity, Taylor, I think while carefully pushing the door closed behind me. Unless there's something else going on.

Despite turning the lock nice and slow, the deadbolt still clunks loudly. In the next instant, sheets begin ruffling behind me, prompting me to twirl around all wide-eyed and wincing.

"Oh, there you are," Taylor groans groggily as she rises from her comforter cocoon, brushing her frizzy blonde locks over her shoulder. "You're never back this late."

"Sorry!" I whisper through gritted teeth. "Did I wake you?"

She shakes her head. "No. I was just on my phone. I had the pillow over my head to drown out Sabrina's music," she says, her slight, North Carolinian drawl sounding more noticeable now that she's less groggy.

"Ah. Good. Now I don't feel so bad." I giggle.

"Where've you been?" she asks, clicking on the lamp beside her bed. "I was about to text you to see if you got kidnapped. Figured that was more likely than you getting dinner without me."

Funny you mention that. Because I was basically kidnapped by an ex-cop.

I force a laugh while setting my bookbag on the floor against my desk. "Taylor, you know I'd never eat without you!" I say, unzipping my bag so I can get my laptop out. The moment I see a veiny, brown RealCock 2 dildo rising from the depths of my backpack, I panic and quickly zip the bag shut. "I uh... I was just walking around campus listening to music. Had to decompress after taking two tests back-to-back."

"Oh, I hear that," she says, eyeing me curiously. "I did the same thing yesterday."

Scott must've hidden that dildo in my bag while I was in the bathroom... I'm gonna have to hide that somewhere next time Taylor leaves the room.

I sit on the edge of my bed, subtly wincing when the cold stickiness in my undies mashes against my labia. "Also kinda figured you maybe needed some space since you've seemed so down all week."

"Oh, no. You don't need to give me space."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I told you, I'm just in a bit of a funk after nearly losing my scholarship and almost getting arrested because of that stupid heist. And then four days of back-to-back exams on top of that just has me burnt out, that's all."

"So you're not mad at me right?"

"Of course not! You're my bestie, Liv! My sister. Why would you even ask that?"

I shrug. "Maybe because I left you behind after the heist?"

Taylor shakes her head. "I told you that I'm not mad at you for that. If anything, I'm mad at myself for even agreeing to participate in that stupid challenge."

"Oh... Okay... Well, my gut's telling me something's wrong, and I can't figure out what."

She giggles. "I just told you what!"

I offer a smile. "So, nothing happened while you were gone last weekend? Like, nothing... bad?"

Her smile fades as her eyes narrow into a squint. "Umm... No."

"If something bad did happen, you'd tell me, right?"

A brief pause follows. "Of course, I would... Where is this coming from?"

I shrug again. "I dunno... You just don't seem stressed and burnt out to me. You seem depressed. And I can't help but feel like you being all depressed since Sunday has something to do with you randomly losing your virginity while you were gone this weekend."

For a second, Taylor looks taken aback. A beat later, she sighs, and then a halfhearted smile follows. "Liv, I promise nothing happened to me while I was gone. Like I said on Sunday, I just hooked up with the neighbor boy who I used to always hang with whenever I visited my aunt in St. Augustine. I wasn't, like, sexually assaulted if that's what you're worried about. I'm just overwhelmed, especially after this week of tests kicked my ass."

Nodding, I twist my mouth to the side. "Okay... But... it's just that... you've told me that you wanted to wait to lose it to someone special. And then, out of nowhere, that changed last weekend."

"Liv... We're in a sorority nicknamed SLUT House whose motto is 'Frequent Sex, Safe Sex'—a sorority full of promiscuous girls who used to call me Taylor Celi-Betty and constantly make fun of me for being a celibate virgin. I just wanted to get it over with, that's all. And my aunt's neighbor's son being someone I'd been crushing on since I was 12 made him just special enough to give myself to." A somewhat insincere giggle follows.

As I search her topaz eyes for a sign of deceit, an urge comes over me to just confide what I went through today in hopes that she'll feel more comfortable sharing the trauma I suspect Scott put her through. But when I open my mouth to speak, a voice in my head screams not to.

Don't say anything... If she's telling the truth—if Scott wasn't lying about not blackmailing her into giving up her virginity to him in exchange for keeping quiet about the heist, I'd just be confessing for nothing. And I don't want her to know what I did with him today. I don't want anyone to ever know about the dirty deal I made with him.

"Liv?" Taylor says quietly, snapping me out of the trance I slipped into.

"Sorry," I mutter, smiling while rubbing a hand down my face, "my brain's so fried, I zoned out trying to read you." A nervous giggle follows.

She snickers while eying me curiously. "Well, you can stop wasting what little brainpower you have left trying to read me. I'm not lying to you."

"I know. I believe you, Taylor."

"Good. But thanks for checking in though, Liv. I truly appreciate it."

"No need to thank me. You know I'm always here for ya, bestie!"

"And I'm always here for you too," she says with a smile. A split second later, her expression turns into one of concern. "Which is why it's my turn to ask, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah... I'm fine. Why?"

Taylor shrugs, and then she scans my face the way the private investigator did earlier. "You seem kinda off today. Like, kinda sad or something... And your eyes seem a little puffy... You haven't been crying, have you?"

I squint and smirk. "No." A nervous snicker follows. "My eyes are puffy because I stayed up super late studying two nights in a row and then woke up early today to cram more. And I probably just seem off or sad because I've been worried about you on top of being burnt out."

Her eyes flick back and forth between mine, searching for deceit the way I just did to her. "Ah, okay... I guess I really haven't seen you this tired before."

"Exactly. Now you know what to expect when the second round of exams comes around." I giggle.

She lets out a little laugh too. "Well, now that you don't have to worry about me anymore, hopefully, you'll be back to your smiley, high-energy self after a nice, long nap!"

I shake my head. "I don't need a nap. All I need right now is to get drunk as fuck as soon as possible."

"Um, same!"

My face lights up. "Does that mean you're feeling up to going to the EPIK House mixer tonight?"

"Of course!"

"Yay! Then let's get dinner now so we can get ready and head on over to Sig-Lam-Tau by seven for the pre-pregame!"

"Kay!" Taylor says while hopping down from her bed. "Lemme just brush my hair quick!"

"You don't have to rush," I mutter as I pull out my phone, "I'm still debating if I wanna order from Grub Hub or..." My words trail off when I see a missed text from Scott.

Scott: Hey, Olivia. The Uber app said you were dropped off 20 min ago, so I'm guessing someone forgot to let me know they made it home safely?

Uh-oh...

"Everything okay," Taylor asks from her desk.

I don't even look up at her, I just start thumbing a response and answer her with a, "Mm-hm."

Me: I didn't forget. I stopped at CVS and then I took a slow walk back, so I just got to my room a bit ago. And I'm only just seeing your message because I was about to text you.

My heart races as I navigate back to the Grub Hub app. "Um... Thai or Mexican food, Tay?" I ask, my voice wavering slightly.

"Ooh! Thai, if that's okay with you," Taylor replies.

"Perfect. Because I've been craving that all week."

Before I even get a chance to finish typing 'Thai' into the search bar, my phone buzzes and chimes with another text.

Scott: I don't know... 20 min is a long time considering that CVS is right across the street from campus. And I find it hard to believe that you'd forget about me considering that your panties are probably all wet and sticky with my baby gravy since you left... Makes me wonder if you were just choosing to not text me right away. But you wouldn't disobey me like that, would you?

Me: No, I wouldn't disobey you. I swear that I just walked through the door.

His response pops up damn near two seconds after I hit send, like he pre-typed it and sent it as soon as he got my last text.

Scott: Guess you're gonna have to prove to me how obedient you are so I can learn to trust you... You have 1 min to send me a video of you pulling down your pants so I can see if you followed the other instruction I gave you.

One minute? My heart throttles, and my blood becomes pure adrenaline.

Me: K.

I tap send on my one-letter text as I spring off the edge of my bed, and then I full-on jog toward the bathroom.

"Whoa! You okay, Liv?" Taylor asks worriedly as I'm pulling in the door behind me.

The lights get clicked on right before I shut the door. "Yup!"

Great, now she's gonna assume I'm having an urgent number 2 situation, I think while my shaky hands scramble to undo my shorts button.

In three quick taps, I get the camera app open, the flash gets turned on, and then the video recording begins with a shot of my legs and feet. Only after my phone is in position do I use my thumb to pull my panties' waistband away from my crotch while urgently tugging them and my shorts toward my knees. Almost immediately, the dried semen gluing the fabric to my labia pulls my sensitive flesh like a band-aid.

"Ah," I whimper quietly, wincing from the light pain.

A moment later, I watch in disgust as milky goo strings stretch between my vulva and the crotch of my crusty panties like spider webs made of snot.

So gross, I think, bringing my phone closer until a clear shot of my glistening vadge and the creamy mess below appears on-screen.

Figuring there's not enough time to film any more evidence, I stop the recording, open my conversation with Scott, and then attach the video—I do all that while standing frozen in front of the sink with my underwear and shorts still around my thighs. It isn't until the message says 'sent' that I finally pull up my bottoms. And because I'm expecting him to ask for more perverted evidence of my obedience, I sit on the toilet and wait for his next command like the good little slave I am.

Thirty seconds later, his text comes.

Scott: Oof... if you're that wet and sticky down there, there's no doubt in my mind that you're following the rules. Good girl, Olivia. Don't forget, I may or may not check back in a bit later to make sure you're still being obedient, so be sure to check your phone frequently. And remember, no showering until I say so. I want you to keep marinating in my cream overnight, my dirty little criminal. Fair warning: the punishment for disobedience may include a mix of spanking and public embarrassment.