Student Life Pt. 07

In seconds the now foaming with shampoo water had risen from its starting point midway up my forehead -- with my hair all underneath it -- to the level of my eyes, and it just kept going. It was only as the level hit the top of my nose, threatening to fill my nostrils, that my brain clicked into gear. The water couldn't drain as something was blocking its exit from the loo. Me. My head and hair.

Hurriedly I pushed down on my arms, raising my head a little from its uncomfortable resting place at the bottom of my toilet. The sudden whoosh of the water disappearing gave me a sharp pain for a moment as my hair was tugged along with it down the drainage system.

Now that was disgusting -- but the camera wasn't going to catch it. The building was a new one and I'd not been in the room long -- and had been the only occupant. That meant the only poo gone down here was my own. That was bad enough, but just think if the place had been lived in for years. Generations worth of faeces could have been coating the inside of the pipes, with my hair now floating against that. Instead, they must still be pretty clean. Hopefully.

None of the toilet water had gotten into my system, although I suppose that it wouldn't have killed me if it had. Whatever went into the cistern should have been clean enough, so, while you didn't exactly want to drink from your toilet, it should be safe to do so from whatever was filling the cistern.

My dismount was a clumsy one as I tried to twist to the side as I did so, to make the most of my soaked hair being pulled out from the tubing at the bottom of the pan. If I'd come off the way I went on then that image would have been lost as I blocked the camera again. With a jolt, my boobs bounced back the right way up and a cascade of water spread onto the floor.

Smiling again, I ran my hands through my hair pretending that it was now fully cleaned of my pee. It might have been actually, as there didn't seem much in the way of stickiness or shampoo residue on it. That had presumably all been sucked down with the suddenness of the plug (me that is) being removed.

The big question I had now though, was would he accept this? I'd been told to do something disgusting and by my standards thought I had done so twice -- trying to make sure. I didn't know though whether either counted in its own right, for him, or, if not, whether he would accept two partially disgusting things as one whole one.

Now that it was done, and so far too late, I realised that I could almost have combined the two things into one. What I maybe should have done was the handstand with my head in the loo, and then let rip with the pee. To do my best not to squirt all over the place, but try and let it run all the way down from my pussy, over my upturned boobs, and into the toilet.

I hoped that he didn't think the same and want me to repeat this performance with a few tweaks. I had no idea what he was thinking in the medium or longer-term, but, so far, he seemed to be pushing me onwards. That being the case, then maybe he would just want fresh action, and not to go back for a better version of what had just happened.

My starring role was now over, and there just remained the need to clean up the bathroom as there was liquid all over the floor. I was going to think of it as just 'liquid' for the time being anyway, even though I know what it was and where it had come from. I was just glad -- for the first time -- that the bathrooms were not overgenerously sized so that the spillage was contained in a fairly small area.

I left the table with the laptop where it was while doing this as I didn't want to touch the wood or go into the main bedroom while still dripping. I'd need to wipe the laptop from where I'd touched it, and didn't want to have to go over my entire room to remove the urine smell that must be there, but I was still being protected from smelling by my toothpaste.

If he wanted to watch me cleaning a bathroom floor while still naked then he was welcome to. He'd seen pretty much everything else I could do while that way, so even the shower I was about to take to clean my own mess away would be mild viewing.

However, that left me in a little bit of a quandary. The camera was still looking towards the toilet and wouldn't pick me up in the shower. Usually I'd consider that a good thing -- a very good thing -- but right now I wanted his goodwill. It seemed a very small price to pay, under the circumstances, to let him get that footage as well if it might earn me a bonus point or two. I turned the machine.

I washed my hair very carefully. My entire body felt filthy, but my hair had been as far down the bathroom plumbing as it could go and, although I washed it a number of times, it still didn't feel right to me. I eventually realised that it was in my head, but that hardly helped and my scalp still crawled with imaginary filth as I finally moved on.

It was my custom to shave fully once a week and this seemed as good a time as any. I was still hoping to get back into my blackmailer's good books -- assuming that he had any -- and so I made sure to make as much of a show of my pubic trimming as I could. I sorted out my landing strip while standing with legs akimbo and facing the laptop, knowing that some guys seemed to like this sort of thing. Both my pits and legs I just did quickly and efficiently, before turning off the shower and drying myself.

Replacing the bedside cabinet and dumping the items that had previously been on the top back into place, I realised that I'd had enough. I was knackered. Physically I'd not been doing much, so I recognised it must be a mental thing, but I was still exhausted. I first sat, then lay on top of the quilt -- in case he called my crawling underneath it an attempt to cover myself up or something -- and cried.

****

When I saw the time, it was obvious that I must have dozed a little, but I hadn't been aware of that, or of time passing by. I cannot say that I was exactly refreshed by the rest I'd had, but it couldn't hurt. I was supposed to be meeting Scott's friends at some point, there was a task of some kind ahead, and he'd said that I was going to be punished as well. I was going to need all the rest I could get.

'Now that you are back in the land of the living, it is time to go and meet your flatmate's friends. Full hair and make-up. Offer them drinks while giving them plenty of time to admire you. Sit and chat for a little while, legs open. Then return here for your assignment.'

At the top of the bed I'd only have been partly in shot, but he must have guessed what I was doing there when I stopped moving. Unless I'd snored as well? I acknowledged the command, and then set about getting myself ready while thinking about this one. For the first time I'd be naked in front of strangers -- not that I knew my flatmates that well -- and if it was going to happen once, then I bet that it would again as well.

Sooner or later he'd tire of the limits of the flat and those in it to have me, supposedly of my own free will, embarrass myself in this way in front of them all, and humiliate myself (again supposedly at my own wish) in private with the guys. In the not distant future, I was going to be meeting strangers like these gamer friends, and it wasn't going to go well for me.

I was going to fuck Scott today, and then tomorrow probably start again with Connor, but with him getting a different entrance into my body. Then back to David -- although I could only see him willing to accept my mouth -- and then back to Scott again. Round and round the wheel of my life was spinning, but I couldn't get off.

Last night I'd said something to the others along the lines of 'I will stay naked if you have friends around, unless they object.' I couldn't tell if Scott had invited the two now in the living area prior to that, or had deliberately done so afterwards to show me off, but the blackmailer (who I'd have to come up with a name for, as I couldn't just keep calling him that) had agreed on my behalf that I'd turn up naked for them.

It was a bit of a stupid thing to have had to say to the guys anyway, as what bloke wouldn't want an attractive blonde to wander around naked in front of him? For the girls that was different. If either of them brought a friend over I didn't expect to have to exhibit myself, but most guys of my age would love a chance to see me in my birthday suit. And not just see for a second, but have me permanently like that indoors.

Make-up refreshed again, I headed through. On exiting my room I could see the TV was on and a game was being played by the people on the couch. Some sort of running around blasting enemies thing that I think Scott had called Borderlands earlier in the week. He'd been quite excited about getting this latest version of it and playing it through with his mates at the earliest opportunity.

My paranoia was back full steam in my head though when I realised two things. One was that I was being allowed to do this with no laptop. Therefore, there was no evidence that I was carrying this through as I'd been told. For all that he knew I could stand here, where they were not aware of me, for a while before returning to my room and telling him all about it. Making up a story about how terrible it was.

At some point last night I'd wondered if it was somehow Connor doing this and so had called me through to his room. He'd maybe seen me drop my phone at the library and picked it up to return to me at home. Perhaps had a quick nosy through the contents and had seen the videos -- and taken it from there. Now though, I knew that wasn't the case.

If it had been him there was no way that he'd have let me put him down and stop him from touching me this morning. His ego wouldn't take it. He'd have revealed himself as the blackmailer and then probably revealed himself in another sense. Screwed me into submission over the kitchen table or something.

There was no way he'd have sent me through to David, and shortly to Scott as well. Did any bloke want his woman shared with others? At least not until he'd gotten full worth out of her himself he didn't. Connor would have wanted to be first in each of my sexual entrances, at the very least, before I was shared around.

The same was pretty much true about Scott as well, and David was gay and so wouldn't want this either. Unless... unless he wasn't? Could that have been some sort of a bluff, or lie, to throw me off? No. Any man that wanted to screw girls would take me for their own long before sharing me. It could not, therefore, be anyone that I knew. QED.

However, and this was a big however, that didn't mean that one of them was not in on it now. The phone numbers, email addresses, and social media details for them were all on my phone and laptop. He could easily have contacted one -- or more -- of them and promised my body to them in return for help in setting me up.

Connor didn't seem a good possibility for that. Self-centred, and self-absorbed, as he was, I thought that he'd want to screw me on his own terms. Which left the possibly gay David, and Scott. Having Scott get me last would persuade me to put him at the bottom of the list, but having his friends here now like this made him a tempting candidate.

The reason for my being allowed to come out here and do what I had to without the laptop watching my every move would be that there was no need for that if Scott was in league with the enemy. He'd report back directly.

I knew that this could be paranoid thinking, but I'd have to act as if any of the guys could be in on this -- while putting Scott at the top of the list. He came across as a bit of a big kid. If he'd been sold this as some sort of big prank, some dare, or a lost bet even, then maybe he'd go ahead with helping the blackmailer without realising what I was in reality going through.

The second thing that bothered me immediately was that one of the guys was black. I'd grown up in an area with some Asians, mostly Indian or Chinese, but no black people that I'd ever really noticed. That wasn't an issue for me though, as although I didn't know any black guys personally, it wasn't his colouring that bothered me.

What was, or could be, was that you heard things about black men. The most important in this situation being that they were all supposed to have big dicks. Like really big dicks. This had been born out in the porn I'd seen, although I knew that this was pretty much fake. All the women were beautiful with large breasts, and the blokes were all well hung. Fakes, to one degree or another.

The thing that bothered me in this set-up was that the blackmailer had said that there would be some sort of task related to being out here and seen by these guys. Was I supposed to find out if the stories were true? And, if so, then there was only one likely way to achieve that. I'd end up with his cock inside me somewhere.

Again, in itself, that wasn't an issue. Well. Okay, it was, it really was! On that level it wasn't that he was black and might have sex with me, it was that I wasn't very likely to be getting a choice in the matter! It was an issue as I didn't want sexual activity with anyone. Not for a hell of a long time to come now!

There was a whole section of some of the porn I'd seen, and certainly in a lot that I'd skipped by, of a big black bloke pounding away at the 'tight' pussy of some teenaged, naïve, small-framed, blonde girl. I fit that bill to a t, and was afraid that this was why he was here. Soon there would be another video uploaded showing this same scenario, but this time I would be the star.

While I hated that idea, hated it, it was the possibility of this being premeditated that really bothered me. If the blackmailer knew that this black man was going to be coming round to the flat today then he'd had advanced warning. He'd only get that by colluding with one of the others. And as they were Scott's friends, and he'd know who he invited... then Scott was either the bastard himself, or in touch with him. Which put me back to my suspicions again.

When I went up to see the two guys they tried to be polite at first and look me in the eyes, but it didn't last. I ended up telling them that they were free to look at whatever they wanted -- as were all of my flatmates -- and I even gave them a little twirl so that they could see all angles. It wasn't like I spread myself down there using my fingers, but I gave them a full show.

I gave them the same spiel I'd given the others about keeping this to ourselves so that no one would complain about it -- and if they managed to then there could be repeat performances on future occasions. However, if they talked about it to others, and this became well known around the university -- and it would, as that's the way gossip works -- then I'd need to stop doing this.

"Think about it guys. Keep quiet and this could happen on a regular basis -- a hot blonde serving you drinks while naked, and letting you openly look at her boobs and pussy... or you talk outside of here and it all comes to a crashing halt."

I let them think about that and left them to their game while I went and fulfilled the drinks orders. I didn't think they'd keep quiet forever, as guys are going to talk about this sort of thing, aren't they? I hoped that they would stay quiet for long enough. Long enough for what I wasn't sure though! For this to have come to an end, and for me to be able to wear clothes again? I had no idea how long that would take. What the blackmailer wanted from me in the long term was still an unknown.

I figured that if it was some random guy jerking me around then there was a chance of his tiring of the game and either quitting, or making it an occasional thing, rather than a constant source of stress. Maybe if I told him exactly what this was doing to me, and potentially my future, he would stop? Given the earlier email message he'd threatened to send that didn't seem likely, but what choice did I have but to at least try to get through to him?

While getting ice from the freezer (of which we had two between the six of us, the same with fridges -- although we only had one larger than normal cooker and oven to try and share), I wondered when, or if, I'd ever get used to being ogled at by men. If you worked in a strip club or something did this ever become a part of you and so stop being so bloody embarrassing? I hoped that it would always bother me -- I'd have started dying inside if it didn't.

The black guy -- called Paul -- stood and stretched as I came back to the sofa area. He wasn't especially tall, but didn't need to be to tower over me as I was a little short for a woman, but he was bulky. He had a slightly chubby face, but the sort of body that many American footballers seem to have. The type where you are not quite sure if they are fat and overweight, or just muscly. I hoped that I'd not find out with him.

He seemed a nice enough man. Polite in his conversation, not swearing, willing to hear me talk and so not overbearing. However, as I was doing what I'd been told to, and sitting on the other sofa with my legs parted way, way, more than I would have even if fully clothed, and so showing off some of the interior of my pussy, as I knew my lips had parted, I never wanted to see him again.

The other one, Mike, wasn't really saying much and was leaving the conversation to Scott and Paul. I was trying to concentrate on what was being said rather than worry if Scott was in league with him and would report back if I didn't show myself off like this -- or was I now doing what I was told in fear, and he was sniggering away somewhere at my situation, guessing that I'd do as I was told without any further surveillance.

My pussy was on full display to these three men and I was supposed to ignore that fact. Bloody awful! And yet... and yet there was something else as well. I knew that at least somewhere in the back of my brain there was a small part of me that was not totally opposed to this. 99% may have been, but that was not all the way. I was a bit of an exhibitionist -- privately -- but apparently there was a small element that liked being seen as well.

I'd never studied phycology or any of that stuff, but I was aware that people sometimes deliberately did things that seemed to be the opposite of what made good sense in their situation. They couldn't properly explain it as, rationally, it was plain daft. My running around naked in stupid places probably came under that heading.

Somewhere inside me a small element had enjoyed parts of what I'd had to do so far. Certainly with Connor my body had reacted. With David it had come close. Here, with the three guys all closely watching my private parts as we talked about nothing much, I was also reacting. Could feel it in my nipples, and there were tingles, albeit small ones elsewhere as well.

That made it time to leave, I couldn't sit there with hardening nipples, waiting for my pussy to start leaking or something, and my body giving off signs of arousal! Not when they were watching me so closely I couldn't. I'd been in there a while -- how long I couldn't tell as there was no clock up on the wall, and I had nothing else to look at as a reference -- but it was certainly time to git.

I told them that it had been nice to talk, that they were welcome to come over anytime -- although the others would obviously need to be consulted by Scott -- and left them to their game. I didn't look back at them as I headed away, but play didn't restart so I felt sure that there would be six eyes glued to my butt as I walked away as nonchalantly as I could.

I got back to my room, and within moments there was another message up on the screen of the laptop, and being read out. Another cut and paste job. I wondered how many of these he had ready to go at a moment's notice. Exactly how far ahead was he planning? In a way, it would be a relief to get the next dozen items in one go, as at least I could prepare myself mentally for them in that case.