Blackmailed Into Servitude Ch. 05-07

Fuck you Scott, I think while slipping my phone back into my pocket. I flush the toilet before I rise, and then I head to the sink. If today was this bad, I can't imagine how the next 43 days will be...

Chapter 7:

Iced Coffee & 3 Creams

Olivia 'Liv' Hartman | 18

Saturday, October 1 ^st

Intense pressure in my bladder, the chainsaw-like buzzing of my phone against my nightstand—I'm not sure which of those things yanked me out of my deep sleep but, considering that I'm groggy and not at all fully rested, my anger is automatically directed at whoever just texted twice in a row and not at the fact that I drank too much water before bed. Instead of getting up to pee, I just clutch my cuddle pillow against my belly with a groan and curl into the fetal position, hoping that exhaustion will win out over the discomfort and pull me back into unconsciousness.

For once, a post-drinking headache doesn't greet me this Saturday morning, though my brain feels hazy and my stomach is a bit nauseous from all the liquor I drank. The only reason that I'm not hungover is because I stopped drinking around 10:00 or 10:30 last night to take care of Taylor. She and I drank so much so fast during our pregame that we skipped buzzed and went straight to drunk before even leaving Sig-Lam-Tau at 9:00 p.m. We were legit the drunkest Sig-Lam girls at that point. Ten minutes after walking into EPIK House—halfway through my first White Claw—it felt like I was on the verge of blacking out, and my stomach started getting queasy. That's when the rational part of me convinced me to stop drinking for a bit. And even though Taylor clearly looked as far gone as I felt on top of acting wilder and more social than I've ever seen her in the five weeks I've known her, she just kept throwing back shots and downing White Claws like they were water and she was dying of dehydration.

Except for that one night when our sorority Bigs forced us to get blackout drunk for a hazing challenge, my reserved and always responsible roommate would normally only drink until she's a little past tipsy, and then she either stops or paces herself until the party shuts down. Because Taylor tries to always be somewhat coherent to make sure nothing happens to either of us. But last night? Last night my bestie intentionally drank herself into oblivion, not like someone who needed to destress after a grueling week of exams but like someone who was trying to drown away trauma. And that's how she ended up stumbling all over the place and slurring some of her words within an hour of being at the frat party. That's how she ended up projectile vomiting into a trashcan by the beer pong tables around 10:00 p.m.

After this sweet, older frat brother named Dylan helped me get Taylor to one of the cleaner bathrooms, I sat there drinking water beside her while she puked her guts out for nearly an hour. Not long after she passed out slumped against the wall, I dozed off against the stall's door. And then I woke up to her tapping me on the arm maybe an hour later. Since she was coherent enough to walk in a somewhat straight line by then, we left Epsilon Pi Kappa and made the 7-minute walk back to our dorm, somehow without getting stopped by the cops who hunt for drunks along frat row. Taylor pretty much passed out immediately after crawling into bed, but I stayed up until around 1:00 a.m. to make sure she didn't puke in her sleep. Not that she had much left in her to throw up at that point. And because I drank water the entire time that I was up keeping an eye on her, I was only a little tipsy by the time I passed out, hence the reason I'm not hungover now.

Despite hydrating as much as I did before bed, my throat and mouth are bone-dry like I haven't had water in days, which makes no sense considering my bladder feels like it's about to explode.

"Ugh," I groan quietly as I roll over—groaning both in frustration and discomfort.

Peeking through one eye, I look across the room at my roommate who's sleeping with her mouth open and one leg sticking out from under the covers, a puddle of drool on her pillow. Snickering at the sight, I reach out from under the warmth of my comforter for the phone charging on my nightstand and then wake it when I grab it.

Great, it's only 7:45, I think, squinting sleepily at this dull screen that's still somehow too bright. I'm definitely gonna try and get another hour... My thought trails off when my gaze falls on the three unread text messages below the time—messages from the one person in the world I don't want anything to do with. Ah crap, that's who just texted me, I think, shutting my eyes and shaking my head. If he's texting me this early, that means he probably wants to do a morning meet-up.

After inhaling slowly and letting it out with a long, quiet huff, I unlock my phone and open the message.

Scott's first message: Good mornin', Olivia.

Scott's second message: Hopefully today isn't one of those Saturday mornings where you sleep in late because I'll be swinging by FSU in 20 min or so to bring you and Taylor coffee and some of the best breakfast Tallahassee has to offer. Well, I'm coming by for that and some early morning contractual obligation fulfillment, of course.

Scott's third message: I'll text or call when I'm close.

Fuck, I think, slapping a hand over my eyes and squeezing my temples with my middle finger and thumb like I'm trying to crush my skull. Why? Just why? I sit up while pulling the covers off me, shivering from the usual cold chill of the always too-low air-condition as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Why couldn't what happened yesterday just have been a nightmare?

The bladder pressure is so bad now that I can't even stand upright, leaving me no choice but to tiptoe hurriedly across the room all hunched over. As soon as the door closes gently behind me, I race to the toilet and pull down my sweatpants and undies on my way down.

Eww, I think with a groan when I see the flakey streaks and large white spots crusting the crotch of my panties—panties that I fully intended to change out of after the party only to forget by the time my drunk-ass got home. I can't believe I'm still wearing these... I shake my head and let out a long sigh that's inaudible over the sound of my urine blasting the toilet water. I can't believe I was so scared Scott was gonna surprise me and give me a sniff test last night that I really only washed up my underarms in the sink before I went out...

Being blackmailed into sex is one thing, but I can't believe I'm letting some guy control me to this extent when he's not even around.

Once I'm done pottying and washing my hands, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and then wash my face. When I emerge from the bathroom five-ish minutes later, Taylor is still out cold, so I tiptoe across the room again and then crawl back under my comforter with an exasperated sigh, grabbing my phone from the middle of the bed in the process. Since there's no reason to delay the inevitable, I open my conversation with Scott and start thumbing my response.

My message reads: Oh. How thoughtful of you. I'm staying at Magnolia Hall, but you probably already knew that. To keep anyone I know from seeing me get into your car, let's meet by Landis Hall. There's some street parking right before where University Way turns into Collegiate Loop.

My phone buzzes in my hand a few seconds later.

Scott: Sounds good. I'll head over now since you're already up.

Oh, joy, I think, putting my phone to sleep and setting it down on my belly.

My phone buzzes again a second later.

Scott again: Oh, and I drive a black Jeep Cherokee. Tinted windows.

After texting him back 'K,' I slam my phone on the mattress and then pull the covers up over my head, groaning as I do. Why do I feel like this is what it's going to be like every morning until this arrangement ends?

Σ Λ Τ

It's a cool 67 °F when I walk outside ten minutes later, a welcome change from our always freezing dorm and the sweltering heat that plagued Tallahassee earlier this week. There's only one jogger out and three other sleepy-eyed collegiates roaming around in my immediate vicinity, none of whom I recognize, thankfully. Since it'll probably be another two minutes before my master arrives, I take a slow stroll along the shaded sidewalk to the stone benches across the street from Landis Hall's six street parking spots. Instead of killing time on Instagram like I intended to, I sit there anxiously staring through the trees at the archway that he'll have to drive through to get here, my stomach churning with dread the entire time. A minute or so later, my phone buzzes in my hand.

Scott: Here.

By the time I look back at the turn leading into campus, I spot a black Jeep rounding the bend. A split-second later, a hand sticks out of the driver's side window and does a little two-finger wave.

Here we go, I think, forcing a smile and subtly waving back during my rise from the bench.

After coming to a stop alongside the lone open parking space, Scott grins at me through the open window. "Good mornin', beautiful girl," he says as I'm checking for oncoming traffic.

"Morning," I reply in the cheeriest voice I can muster while powerwalking across the street. I don't even look around to see if anyone I know is walking toward me, I just slink around Jeep's front end with my head down, keeping my face hidden behind my hair until I climb into the passenger's seat.

"You look well-rested," Scott says as I'm pulling the door shut. "Chill night last night?"

I shake my head, briefly meeting his gaze before looking away. "The opposite actually. I drank a bunch to cope with the stressful day that this vengeful bastard and his fake detective goon put me through," I say, briefly glaring at him, "but I had to stop and sober up early to take care of Taylor."

He snickers. "Really? Didn't take Blondie for a wild party girl."

"Oh, she's not. I've never seen her drink like that before. But I guess that's what five exams in four days does to her," I say, side-eyeing him again, searching for a reaction. My mouth partially opens to utter something accusatory that implies he's the reason she drank herself to oblivion like I did, but I decide against it out of fear of punishment. That and I don't want him thinking I talked to her about what happened yesterday.

"Ah, I see. Well, I hope this breakfast cheers her up some. You know, if she's not too hungover to eat." An annoying heh-heh-heh of a chuckle follows.

I force a smile. "I'm sure it'll make her day once she's able to eat..." I tip my chin up and sniff rapidly. "What'd you get for us anyway? Smells so good in here."

"Wasn't sure what y'all liked, so I got waffles, two different kinds of breakfast burritos for each of you, and two omelets with peppers, onions, and cheddar cheese."

My eyes go wide. "Oh wow! That's—that's very generous of you. Thanks."

His warm smile turns into a devious smirk. "Hey now. Don't thank me yet, sweetheart. You still gotta earn your breakfast and these coffees," he says, pointing at the two iced drinks in the cupholders between us.

"I figured as much," I say through a sigh. "So... ummm... where are we going? Your place?"

"Nah. I live almost twenty minutes from here. Besides, I only came by this morning to get the blowie I forgot to ask for yesterday, so I figured we could just go to the parking garage near your dorm."

"Oh... Okay... I'm guessing you mean Tradition's Way Garage?"

He nods. "That sounds right. Will we be able to find a spot there, or should we try somewhere else?"

"Uhhhh... Overnight parking is usually filled up, especially on weekend mornings. But that's only the top two floors. There should be a few spots on the ground level or the second floor."

"Perfect. Because I can't wait too much longer. And to tide me over until your oral presentation, I'm gonna need you to give me a handy on the drive over."

My eyes go wide. "Umm... you're kidding, right?"

"You should know by now that I don't joke about my demands, Liv."

"Yeah." My head bobbles as I glance at the closed passenger window. "It's just... your tint's dark, but it's not dark enough to keep people from seeing in here."

Scott smirks. "That's why I brought this—" His words trail off as he turns and reaches for something in the backseat. A black hand towel is what he retrieves and holds out to me. "—so you can cover your handy work until we're somewhere secluded."

"Oh," I mutter, taking the soft cloth from him. "I suppose that'll do the trick."

"Indeed it will." He scans the area ahead and then briefly looks over his shoulder before turning back to me with a grin. "Okay, we're clear. Get to jerking."

Without even hesitating, I lean over the center console and feverishly work to undo his shorts. As I unzip him, a bulge quickly swells against the fabric. By the time I reach into his boxers and curl my fingers around his twitching manhood, he's already almost fully erect.

"You see what you do to me?" he asks as my free hand covers his lap with the towel. "Got me rock-hard before you even started."

"Consider me flattered," I say flatly while trying to pull his long dong through the hole of his underwear. Once I get his boner out, I sit upright, check to make sure no one is walking by, and then I give his length a slow stroke from base to tip and then back down.

"Argh," he growls in pleasure, his cock throbbing in response. Groans and heavy breathing follow the instant I begin jerking him faster. His eyes close soon after. "Good girl... Keep going just like that." Maybe ten seconds into it, he reaches over my arm and then shifts the Jeep into drive. "As soon as we pull into the parking garage—" His words trail off as he checks his side-view mirror. An SUV cruises by a beat later, and then he pulls out of the spot. "—I want you to get to sucking."

"As you wish," I mutter, nervously looking at the people coming down the sidewalk toward us, scanning their eyes to see if they've noticed what's going on in here.

"Urgh... Fugh-k." he groans, slightly writhing in his seat. "You give good handjobs."

"Thanks," I say flatly.

"Seriously. Your speed, your grip, the little twist you do on the upstroke—it's all perfect. Makes me wonder if you're equally proficient at blowjobs... Tell me... can you deepthroat, Liv?"

"Uhhh... Yeah?"

He glances at me with a grin and half-open, pleasure-drunk eyes. "Oh yeah? Someone get a lot of practice in high school?"

"Nope. Not at all. If you must know, I didn't learn until I got here."

"Ah. You sure didn't waste any time practicing."

"No, it's like that! Despite what you may think about me for agreeing to this arrangement, I am not that kind of girl." I glare at him while jerking him a bit faster in hopes that I can get him to nut before it's time to swallow this long, girthy meat pole. "I learned how to using a dildo, okay?"

"Urrrgh," he growls in pleasure. "Oh. Interesting. So... you wanted to learn to be ready for your first college boyfriend."

"Umm... No."

"Then why?"

"It's not something I can discuss."

"Ah... Lemme guess. It's something sorority-related?"

I remain quiet.

"Oh, c'mon. We have a confidentiality agreement, remember? So, tell me." The command comes off a bit stern.

I sigh. "Ugh. Fine... As a part of our initiation, our sorority Bigs suction-cupped dildos to a wall and made us all kneel beside each other and practice deepthroating until we could control our gag reflexes."

"Holy shit..." he says as he begins to turn into the parking garage's entrance. There's no ticket booth or gate, so he cruises right in, and the car rocks from the small speed bump. "Not sure why I'm surprised. That sounds like something a sorority known as SLUT House would force their pledges to do, especially considering they made you all steal a bunch of dildos."

"Yup."

"You'll have to tell me about what else you did during initiation over dinner later. But, for now—" He rests his hand on my wrist to stop me from beating him off. "—it's time to show me what that mouth can do. But save your deepthroat technique for after we park." Grinning, he lifts his arm to grant me access.

Like the obedient, submissive pet that I've become, I immediately lean over the center console, bring my wide-open mouth to the erection I'm gripping at the base, and then wrap my lips tightly around the head of his dick without hesitation—without wincing in disgust.

"Ooh-ugh," he groans as I slowly take him deeper into my mouth.

Only after I've swallowed about half of his length do I begin bobbing my head back and forth with shallow movements, slurping quietly as I do.

"Ah-uh-urgh." That's what Scott growls as he gently bucks his pelvis up into my face, driving his erection up into my mouth just as I'm lifting my head away. On the way back down, I begin slathering his shaft with my tongue, and a long groan rattles in his throat in response. "Holy fuck, Liv... Ahh... Mmm-rgh..." He writhes restlessly as I pick up the pace a bit. "Wasn't expecting you to be so... eager and enthusiastic... Geezusss."

Me either, I think, slowing down my bobbing speed as I feel the Jeep round a corner. But this is what Sig-Lam-Tau prepared me for, I guess.

While I was hesitant to have sex with Scott yesterday, I wasn't at all reluctant about doing hand stuff or giving him a BJ today. It's not just because those acts are not as intimate as vaginal intercourse. And it's not just because being forced to ride him bareback broke me in. I mean, that's part of it, but not the primary reason. The real reason for my lack of hesitancy today is the fact that this isn't the first time in the past seven days that I've been required to beat off and blow some guy I didn't know—this isn't the first time I've had to perform these kinds of sex acts on a guy who I didn't want to do these things with.

Last Sunday was the infamous Sig-Lam-Tau initiation ritual known as Sigma's EPIK Spiral. It's called the EPIK Spiral because thirty naked pledges from EPIK frat were tied to chairs that were literally arranged in a spiral pattern in the middle of our sorority's cafeteria. They were naked and tied to chairs with noise-canceling headphones over their ears because all of us mask- and hood-wearing Sigmas had to race to see who could milk the most helpless frat boys into little cups using our mouths and hands. And us girls were wearing black masks and black hoodies for the same reason that the EPIK pledges were blindfolded before being escorted to the Sig-Lam-Tau house, and that reason was to keep those boys from knowing which sorority was being slutty by sucking and jerking them for sport. Getting random guys to nut in cups for us wasn't even the craziest part of the challenge. The craziest part was that we had to pool all 30 of their loads into a chalice that all 20 of us pledges then had to take turns drinking from it like it was communion wine in order to complete our initiation.

The thing is, having a one-night stand is something I'm barely comfortable with, and I'm not too keen on doing anything more than making out with a guy who I don't actually like. That being the case, I wasn't excited to learn what our initiation challenge entailed. So, at first, I reluctantly opted to only jerk off my first boy toy at the beginning of the spiral. I gave a handy to a guy I'd never even spoken to before for the same reason I robbed Scott's shop. Because I desperately wanted to get into the sorority.