Blackmailed Into Servitude Ch. 08-10

My eyes widen. "Did Taylor tell you that?"

"Nope. Between you and me, I have had a few gloryhole customers from Epsilon Pi Kappa over the years, and one disclosed how Sigma Lambda Tau has a 'must be clean' to become a sister policy just like their frat does. And knowing that tidbit of info is why I figured a girl like you from a sorority like that would choose forty-four days of servicing me over dealing with the law."

"Hmm... That makes sense."

"Mm-hm. And because I respect women—because I'm a big proponent of clear consent—I didn't bend you over my desk and plow you after you signed the paperwork, nor did I grab your head this morning and face-fuck you like they do in aggressive deepthroat porn. I asked you to service me so that I knew you were willing and so that you had a chance to ease into having me inside of you. So yeah, the choices I gave you may have been creepy, but I'm also not all bad or incapable of compassion. Nor are you a victim of anything other than your free will and the consequences you brought on yourself." He stares at me in silence for a moment. "Am I right, or are you a victim of something I've done?"

The truths spoken in his monologue leave me feeling uneasy. "You're right. You didn't force me into doing anything."

"Good. Glad you feel that way. And will you maybe try and reframe how you see me from now on?"

"I'll try."

"Good girl." Scott takes a bite of chicken.

"So... what happened with you and the ex-wife? Given the bitterness in your tone, I'm assuming it's her fault you split?"

"You assume correctly. Long story short, after being together for our entire senior year of college, dating for two memorable years after graduating, and being married for five amazing trips around the sun, I found out she was having a two-year-long affair with the guy from her job who she swore over and over that I had nothing to worry about."

"Oh shit... I'm—I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, I was sorry to find out." A half-hearted chuckle follows. "You may not believe this, but I was a good husband to Stef. We rarely fought. I was never violent. I didn't have a drinking problem. I barely even watched porn during our entire relationship. I never cheated, nor did I ever mess around in the gloryhole booth when a girl was working—"

"Wait," I interject. "You had the gloryhole booths in the shop while you were with her?"

"Yup."

"And did she know about them?"

"Of course. I didn't keep anything from her. She didn't care."

"Oh... I'm sorry for interrupting you. Go on."

"It's fine. All I was gonna say was, I was loyal and treated the woman like a queen, and yet she still cheated on me. And then she had the audacity to not only try and take the house, but she also fought for half my business in the divorce. Thankfully, I had proof of the affair thanks to the P.I. I hired—a different P.I. than who I used for you—and I was lucky that I had a sympathetic judge who had a track record for ruling hard against adulterers."

I shake my head. "Wow... Going after the house I sort of get, but going after the business you built all on your own? That's extremely effed-up."

"Oh yeah. That on top of the infidelity is why I hate her."

I nod. "Totally understandable. So... you're not taking what happened with her out on me, are you? Like, do I look like her or something? Is that why you picked me instead of one of the other girls who robbed your store?"

"I mean, you and my ex are both blue-eyed brunettes, but you don't look alike. Like I said yesterday, I picked you because you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. As for your other question, no, I'm not taking my frustrations out on you, Olivia. If I was, I would've made you agree to being chained and whipped and choked and fucked hard in the kind of way no girl would like. I'd do that to you every day until our arrangement is over. If I was taking my trauma out on you, I'd verbally abuse you every chance I got. I'd degrade you by calling you things like whore and worthless instead of being respectful and addressing you as sweetheart. But I'm not gonna do any of that. Because this isn't about me punishing you for what my ex-wife did to me or for what my mom did to my pops. This is just about me living out my greatest fantasy now that I finally have the chance—a fantasy that involves having a sexually liberal girl who wronged me make amends for her crime by having her agree to give herself to me however I ask, whenever I ask so that she can avoid jail."

"A fantasy inspired by porn, just like your business."

"Exactly," he says with a smile. "Complete submission and no strings attached, on-demand fun is all I want."

I nod. "Well... this," I say, pointing back and forth between us, "might not be about you taking out your frustrations, but the psych major in me thinks that, at some subconscious level, you wanting to completely control me is rooted in the lack of control you've experienced in your childhood. And I'm guessing the desire to have an emotionless, on-demand sexual partner stems from your inability to want a healthy relationship after what happened with your parents and what happened with the ex-wife."

Now he nods while staring blankly at the bottle he's turning slowly on top of the table. "I'd be lying if I said that you were completely wrong..." He looks up at me with this vulnerable look. And then his expression morphs into a smirk. "But I have some theories about you too, missy."

I arch a brow. "Oh? And what are they?"

"I'll tell ya in a sec. But first, tell me about your parents."

"My dad is a firefighter. Chief firefighter. And my mom was a teacher, but now she owns a little restaurant in town."

"Cool, cool. Churchy conservative folks?"

"Very. The only Sundays I didn't go to church were during the weekends I spent here in Tallahassee. You assume that because it's a bible belt stereotype?"

"That and the fact that, like Taylor, you moved out of state to attend a top party school and did whatever it took, no matter how illegal or skanky to join one of the sluttiest sororities on campus. That's not somethin' you do unless you're actively trying to go wild after spending your high school living under the rule of strict parents who didn't let you date or do anything fun... Would I be correct to assume you didn't have much fun the last four years of your life?"

I nod.

"How many boyfriends did you have in high school?"

"Two."

"And how many hookups have you had since being at FSU?"

"Not counting what happened with us yesterday? One."

"Interesting... So, after you learned about Sig-Lam-Tau and how their motto is 'Frequent Sex, Safe Sex,' did you continue rushing because you were tired of being a goody-girl who didn't get a chance to explore and have fun in high school?"

At first, I bobble my head, but then I begin nodding. "Yeah."

"See? I knew part of you yearned to be a promiscuous girl."

I avert my gaze, and he chuckles.

"Aside from your sorority sisters forcing you to practice deepthroating on dildos suction-cupped to walls, what other sex-related hazing did they put you through? It had to be something real naughty if both your sorority and EPIK frat gotta get tested weekly during rush, right?"

"You would be correct."

He gestures for me to continue. "I need details, sweetheart. We have a confidentiality agreement, remember? I promise that your sisters or the EPIK brothers will find out you told me."

The alcohol has me feeling loose, so I start telling him how they got us blackout drunk, made us tell them secrets, and then made us take nude pictures as blackmail in case anyone snitched on Sig-Lam-Tau hazing practices. I tell him about Lingerie paintball and how we were taken back to our rival sorority house after being captured. I tell him about how we were blindfolded and forced to ride the vibrating Sybian while being interrogated. I tell him how an EPIK frat boy had to beat off less than a foot away from us while the vibrator was on. I tell him how Taylor got jizzed on during her interrogation. To wrap things up, I talk about the EPIK spiral and how Taylor won. Of course, Scott was smiling during all of that.

"Sheesh," the grinning man says, shaking his head. "So, let me get this straight... your sorority sisters blackmailed you with nudes they made you take while blacked out, they embarrassed you by making you girls ride Sybians to orgasm in front of not only your sisters but also frat guys while frat pledges jizzed on y'all, they had you commit robberies, and then they made you race to blow random guys on top of forcing you all to drink from a chalice with the spunk of thirty dudes and the spit of your sisters? They forced you to do all of that and yet I'm a bad guy for offering to not turn you into the cops if you agreed to hook up with me for six weeks?"

I bobble my head side-to-side. He has a point.

"Lemme ask you something... If your sorority asked you to fuck a guy instead of just blowing them, would you have done it?"

I shrug. "I dunno..."

He snickers. "C'mon... Answer with a yes or no, Liv."

After pondering it for a bit, I sigh. "Uhh... I mean... I probably would've."

"I knew it!" Scott slouches in his chair and crosses his arm. "So, that hypothetical scenario aside, how is what they put you girls through not worse than me proposing our arrangement?"

I shrug. "I dunno..."

"Is it because I'm a man who's nearly twice your age and they're girls who preached sisterhood and female empowerment before torturing you, forcing you to blow guys you didn't wanna blow, and making you drink from a chalice filled with semen?"

I nod. "Looking back on it, what they made us do was equally as shitty."

"Oh, without a doubt! At least I got your consent."

My head bobbles side to side. "True..."

"And at least I'm going to figure out what makes you cum so I can ensure you derive as much pleasure during the rest of our time together."

I stare at him for a moment. "Here's a question... If you're just blackmailing so you can use me for my body, why would you wanna take the time to make sure I also... finish?"

"You know how some girls get off giving head even though they're not actually deriving any pleasure from choking on dick?"

"Um, I live in a sorority house with like ten girls who routinely organize blowbangs, so yeah."

His brown eyes go wide and his jaw drops. "Geezus... Well, driving women to orgasm—seeing women restless with a toe-curling, body-quaking, screaming like their being murdered orgasm that I gave them—gets me all riled up."

"So, basically, stroking your ego makes you nut harder. Gotcha."

"Yeah, but I also thoroughly enjoy giving pleasure to the woman I'm being intimate with. Well, if I like her, that is. If I'm with someone worth a damn, I need her to enjoy herself. Otherwise, it's hard for me to fully enjoy myself."

"Then why do you want to do that with me? Clearly you hate me. Because you wouldn't make this arrangement last beyond this weekend if you liked me—if you thought I was worth a damn."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong. I do like you."

"You're attracted to me. That's not the same thing."

Scott slowly shakes his head. "I am attracted to you. But I also like you."

"You barely know me."

"Sure. But I know what kind of girl you are. It took all of five minutes to discern that when we first spoke in my office."

"Oh? And what kind of girl am I?"

"You're a smart girl with morals who's kind-hearted and the furthest thing from a bitch."

I snicker. "I robbed your store and reluctantly sucked off two guys as a part of initiation all because I was committed to joining the sluttiest sorority on campus—a sorority whose motto is 'Frequent Sex, Safe Sex.' Are you sure about me having morals?"

"Everyone does questionable shit and goes a little wild during freshman year of college, especially after growing up with strict parents. But that doesn't change the fact that you're still the same sweet, responsible girl you were back in Small Town, Georgia."

I nod. "I suppose you're not wrong about that."

"A few promiscuous acts don't make you a whore, just like one robbery doesn't make you a kleptomaniac. And that's why I gave you a choice to do this thing with me instead of turning you and your sorority sisters in. Just like with Taylor, it took a few seconds of talking to you to figure out that you didn't deserve to have your life ruined over that. I'm sure the other girls don't either. And since you were so driven to join SLUT sorority for what I assume was to achieve some sort of sexual awakening, I chose to punish you by making you have that awakening with me. Now, had you been a spoiled bitch with a bad attitude who was an actual slut, I would've just offered you the choice between jail or a few days in the gloryhole booth so I could make money off you."

"I see... Well, I guess I should consider myself lucky that I'm nothing like Holly 'The Homie Hopper' then. She's the most spoiled bitch to ever walk the Earth!"

He smiles curiously. "First off, are you saying that you're grateful for being blackmailed into being with me?"

"I'm grateful that I didn't have to suffer one of the other two alternatives," I sass back.

"Same thing... Second question, who's this Holly, and why is her nickname the Homie Hopper?" Intrigue flashes across his face.

"Holly's the mean girl of our sorority who literally makes it a practice to sleep her way through friend groups in frats and her residence hall, hence homie hopper."

"Oh... I can tell by the way you say her name and talk about her that you hate her."

"She's honestly the worst girl I've ever met. Like, she's been a bitch to everyone in our pledge group, especially towards Taylor."

"Wait, why Taylor? She's the sweetest girl ever."

"Right? I don't know what Holly's problem is with her. She probably just targeted Taylor for being shy and quiet and prettier than her. Like, from day one, she's been picking on her—constantly making fun of her for wearing affordable clothes by calling her shit like Taylor Thrift."

"Clever, but mean."

"Yeah. And that was the nicest thing she's ever said to her... All I've thought about since meeting with you yesterday was how much I wish Holly was the one in my shoes instead. She deserves this. Hell, given all the blowbangs and gangbangs she's participated in this year, she probably would've jumped at the chance to do a three-day sentence in the booth." I snicker.

His look of intrigue grows more intense. "Is that so..."

"She's a certified cum-dumpster and a dick-sucking addict. And she's probably waaay better in bed than me! Want me to invite her over? You can get your P.I. to find out what store she robbed for her heist challenge, blackmail her into being your sex slave, and have her for six weeks instead of me!" I grin.

Scott laughs. "Liv, that's actually a brilliant idea. But, as enticing as that sounds, I don't want a slutty bitch as my plaything. I want the sweet, semi-innocent, gorgeous girl who's secretly desperate for a sexual awakening."

"Oh joy," I sigh out with a smile and a roll of my eyes.

"And speaking of your sexual awakening," he says, nodding toward the empty plates before us, "it's time we get started on that. So, get up, strip, and then head upstairs."

My heart starts racing. "Now? We're not gonna, like, let our food digest? I'm all bloated."

"Yes. Now. The obedience play has begun, so chop, chop, sweetheart. I'd hate to have to punish you with anything other than pleasure tonight."

Alright... I take a deep breath, rise from my seat, and begin pulling my top over my head. Here we go again...

Chapter 9:

What Gets You Off

Olivia 'Liv' Hartman | 18

Saturday, October 1 ^st

Even though I can't see the face of the man who's following me up the stairs, I can feel his hungry eyes ogling my naked form like an invisible pressure is against my backside—I can feel Scott staring up at the intimate area between my legs that he's been craving since I first fulfilled my contractual obligation with him. Oddly enough, being exposed like this in front of him again doesn't have me feeling nearly as uncomfortable as I felt yesterday. That's probably because he's already watched me strip and then filmed me pleasuring myself a foot away from him. For someone like me, being forced to go through something as traumatic as that in front of a perv stranger who I despise makes it kinda hard to feel as embarrassed and vulnerable the second time around.

Also, I don't know if it's how bad I'm buzzing from the alcohol, the fact that getting to know him a bit tonight somewhat humanized him in my mind, the fact that I've already had his cock in my mouth and my cooch, or if it was the realization that choosing to be his sex slave really was something I willingly agreed to, but the idea of him violating me all night long doesn't have me freaking out or dreading it nearly as bad as I was on the drive over here.

That's not even the worst part. Since I've stripped in the kitchen, all I've been thinking about is all the different ways he might torture me with pleasure for hours on end, and now things are getting wet down below.

There's no way I'm turned on by the thought of what he's gonna do to me, I think, clenching my jaw. There's just no way.

Sigma Lambda Tau... S-L-T... Slut! Slut! Slut! My sorority's cheer is recited in my head.

Maybe you are a tried-and-true Sig Lam SLUT, Liv, I think, subtly shaking my head. If you weren't a SLUT, you wouldn't have agreed to be this creep's free use fuck doll so quickly. No... scratch that... You would have agreed to it. Because you wouldn't do something like this with someone like him if some part of you deep down inside didn't want it...

"My room is at the end of the hall," Scott says right when I reach the top of the stairs, startling me for some reason. "That open door straight ahead."

"Okay," I mutter.

The bedroom I walk into isn't brightly lit, but it's not dim either. It's bathed in a soft, yellow glow—the kind of lighting couples use to set the mood. The furniture in here is black, and it's clear by the style and quality of the wood that a good bit of money was spent on making this room look like it underwent professional interior design. Now that I know he had a wife, it's evident that she was behind making this house look like a model home.

A few feet from the queen-sized bed ahead, my gaze wanders to the assortment of sex toys lined up neatly and spaced evenly apart a few inches down from the pillows. The one that catches my attention is the monster-sized, way too girthy RealCock 2 at the end beside the ribbed glass dildo.

"An assortment of dildos and vibrators for us to experiment with," Scott says as he stands beside me with his arm pressed against mine.

"There are so many...," I say in awe.

"If we don't sample the best toys my shop has to offer, how else are we gonna figure out which ones work best for you?" he says with a grin.

I bobble my head side-to-side, clenching my thighs from the thought of him stuffing me with different-sized phalluses and buzzing me with one vibrantly colored item after another.

"Once we're all done toy-testing and figuring out which mouth and finger techniques make you climax," he says, pointing to the last item on the right, "I'm gonna slip those crotchless, vibrating panties on you and then I'm gonna have my fun while you're helplessly cumming around me." Now he turns to me with a smoldering look and a fiendish smile. "During that time, we're gonna figure out how rough you like it..."