Blac Screen

. This story is not too friendly for those who want to skip chapters.

I would strongly recommend any readers who are struggling to recall certain specifics to skim through the previous two parts. If any kind, dedicated fan would like to make a quick recap of each chapter along with a "who's who" it would be much appreciated. I dislike having recaps at the beginning of stories but I can make them available for those who need them, if enough people voice an interest.

. All characters are over 18.

. No characters are based on anyone real or fictional.

. I've run out of bullet points to make.

. Thanks for all the support! Please enjoy! (But not too much.)

________

"Noah?"

"Here."

"James?"

"Here."

"Yasmine?"

"Here."

With a gentle flick the young teacher ticked off each name as she called them.

Standing at the front of the class, Miss Owens could already see she had a full house from the absence of empty desks. Today's register was a simple formality.

"Tom?"

"Here."

"Michelle?"

"Here."

"Liza?"

"Here Miss!"

She ticked off 3 more names.

By September Olivia Owens will have been teaching for 3 years and working at this particular school for the last 2 of them. By all other accounts she remained new to the game but in her head she felt as experienced as the most hardened veteran of the teacher's lounge.

She'd seen it all in the short time span she'd been working here; every ludicrous excuse for missed homework, every inane reason two school boys could find to fight, and every absurd rumour that could be invented at 9 in the morning and believed by the 400 teenagers it spread to by the final bell.

However, there was one thing that still spooked her; one thing that always chilled her to her very core...

A student replying cheerfully to their name during registration.

Olivia held back a shudder.

The start of her lessons had always been a chorus of "here", given to her with an enthusiasm that rivalled Eeyore or Marvin the manically depressed robot, but every now and then a student would appear who couldn't stop themselves from answering their name like it was rollcall for cheerleading auditions, giving Olivia the most joyful response she'd had to any question since she'd asked her nephews if they wanted ice cream.

Liza Laraway was one of these students.

The popular girl was a new fixture in her classroom, having only just transferred to her Physics block the other day.

Every lesson so far the pretty girl would stride into the classroom, giggling with whoever she chose to walk in with, take her seat with a big grin on her face, and eagerly yell "here!" as soon as her name was called.

And it wasn't just for registration either; it was every answer she gave.

Every. Single. One.

I thought popular kids were meant to be indifferent and unexcitable.

The girl had reasons to be happy she supposed. She was young, well liked, and absolutely beautiful. Olivia was hardly at the age to be jealous about that since she was only 28 and she knew she was still as good looking a woman now as she was at 20.

Despite this, the older she got the more afraid she was of age catching up with her.

It was irrational and she knew she was still young but 18 year old supermodels made her envious of how carefree they could afford to be about their fortunate genetics.

Olivia worked hard in the gym every week to keep herself in shape, spending hours trimming down fat, toning up her muscles, and keeping a strict diet.

At their age all she needed to do was keep away from too many burgers and doughnuts.

Still, she was more than satisfied with the body she hid under her smart skirt suit. Olivia put in blood, sweat, and tears to keep her figure in shape and when she caught herself naked in the mirror after a shower all the pain became worthwhile for that feeling of pride.

If anything she was tighter and healthier now than she was at 18!

Unfortunately, that fact didn't quell the slight resentment she held for the "Lizas" of this world.

"William?"

"Here."

"Tiffany?"

"Here."

"Annabel?"

...

Miss Owens frowned at the disturbance to her rhythm and scanned the room.

"Annabel?" She repeated louder.

Olivia saw her sitting near the back of the class, looking distractedly at the row of students to her right.

"Annabel!"

The girl looked up, startled, as if she was just pulled out of a spell.

"Here! Sorry Miss!"

"Are you joining us today or will you spend the lesson daydreaming?" The teacher asked, irritated.

Annabel stuttered and mumbled out an apology.

Miss Owens cut her off before she could finish. "Just stay awake if you could Miss Adams. Fred?"

"Here."

"Jack?"

She continued the register, though her mind had been dragged somewhere else.

Adams.

The name made Olivia shiver.

Of course, I always forget the two of them are siblings.

Anne and Brad Adams were not true siblings; they were step siblings, which is why Olivia always had a hard time imagining them as brother and sister.

The two were ice and fire, in both personality and looks.

That wasn't to say Anne was not as attractive as her step-brother, but simply that where she was cute he was hard.

Although maybe hard wasn't the word she should have used...

"Michael?"

"Here."

"Stephanie?"

"Here."

"Chris?"

"Here."

On the other side of the room Anne was allowing the paranoia to slowly consume her.

Her blackmailer was in her school.

She looked around her classmates with new intensity. No one was looking back at her or paying her any attention, and yet, every time she turned her head it felt as if there were intense eyes digging into the back of her.

Anne swung back around.

Greg frowned at her, noticing her weird behaviour and answered "here" as his name was called next.

One of these people could be the one controlling her, the one making her life into a living hell, but who?

"Kate?"

"Here."

"Luke?"

"Here."

"Aaron?"

"Here."

Maybe the blackmailer wasn't even someone in this class. It could be someone from any one of her classes.

Or none of them.

Every single one of her peers now looked suspicious to her, even the girls. Anne was becoming increasingly convinced that every person paying no attention to her was doing it intentionally, so she wouldn't be tipped off.

Of course, maybe that's what they wanted her to think!

You're being ridiculous.

She scolded herself.

Think, who in the school would actually be capable of this.

The obvious answer there was to look at the intelligent people, specifically the computer geeks. They would be the only ones with the knowledge to pull off such technological feats that her blackmailer had.

But on the other hand, perhaps she could consider that someone didn't need to have knowledge of whichever virus or program they had stuck into her computer. Maybe they simply had the instructions needed to use it and nothing else.

That would leave...

everyone

as a possibility.

Shit!

Okay what was the next line of thinking she should take? Who hated her the most? Who was the most perverted? Who had access to her laptop?

Anne's eyes widened.

There was one person who had easy access to her room, someone who effortlessly could have left the box of sex items on her doorstep without having to travel far and has the moral ambiguity and perverseness to be capable of abusing her like this.

Someone who hates her.

Someone who wants to see her brought down.

Someone who lives with her...

"Brad?" Miss Owens called, flat tone masking the memories flooding through her mind.

"Here."

Anne stared at her step brother, sitting nonchalantly across the room as if he didn't have a care in the world. The brother she never wanted; the last person she wished to ever be involved in her exchange of circumstances.

Was he her blackmailer?

_______

Part 3: A teacher and her student.

Anne knew she had a strained relationship with her step brother but would he go this far? It seemed almost impossible to consider that he would do all this to her, despite everything.

She had known him for years, the guy was cruel but he wasn't a monster.

At least Anne thought he wasn't...

"No one let Moaner out until she apologises for waking me up."

Or maybe he was.

Still, Anne had a hard time believing it was Brad who spent his break forcing her to run around the girl's toilets naked, forcing her to text him all those humiliating pictures, and forcing her to play with herself to the edge of cumming on video chat. He was much more direct in his typical abuse.

Wait a second...

Her blackmailer was forcing her to text them!

If his true identity was Brad then Anne currently had the opportunity to test him.

If she sent her master a message now and Brad looked down at his phone then it is more than likely that he was the culprit. If he didn't open his phone and her blackmailer replied then he was exonerated.

The same concept could apply to everyone in the room here and now, or in any of her future classes.

This was going to work.

Anne pulled out her phone.

But what should I say?

She shifted uncomfortably and felt her backwards thong rub against her clit.

____

Up the front of the class, Miss Owens finished giving out instructions as to which pages everyone should be reading and the questions they needed to answer.

Olivia was feeling lazy today.

The topic at hand was easily picked up if read properly so she wasn't completely neglecting her teaching duties. Once they had finished the work she'd get her ass into gear and talk them through each of the questions on the whiteboard; that should be enough.

Her heels clopped on the floor as she walked around her desk to take her seat. Olivia could barely wait until 4:30 rolled around and she was free to get out of here. The exhausted teacher wanted to run a nice hot bubble bath, play some gentle music, and waste the night away until her roommate returned from work; then the two of them could order a takeaway, stick on a film, and vent about their lives all night until sleepiness took over.

It would be a relaxing girl's night to combat the Monday blues.

I wonder what movies are out.

As she sat down, something out of place on her desk caught her eye.

A letter?

OVILIA OWENS

was written in big black ink across the back of the envelope.

Was this from a student?

Miss Owens surveyed her class with caution. It seemed as if this was something teachers should ignore. It was likely either a nasty message or a perverted one; those are the two lines teenagers walked between the most comfortably. Olivia wasn't sure which one she found more distasteful.

A cute love letter might be sweet though, however inappropriate.

The curiosity was digging at her now. Olivia picked up the letter with her delicate, manicured hands and held it up. No one in the room appeared to be looking at her.

She opened it.

Inside was a white piece of paper folded into thirds. Olivia pulled it out and unfolded it.

Miss Owens

the message started,

before you read the rest of the letter please make you have seen the photographs provided.

Photographs?

Alarms were rapidly going off in the teacher's head. Something definitely wasn't right here.

With nervous fingers, Olivia reached into the envelope, feeling the sharp edges of the apparent pictures.

She shouldn't look at these; that's what every instinct was telling her. Olivia should just pull out her hand, put the envelope in her drawer and never look at it again.

That's what she should do.

Miss Owens pulled out the pictures.

An icy hand gripped her heart. The teacher gasped and immediately looked towards the seat Brad Adams was occupying. He wasn't looking at her.

Shit shit shit shit shit!

Her grasp on the photographs tightened, sending creases through the images. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

How did someone even get these photos!?

Olivia looked down at the captured moment from the night she had sworn to forget. It had been a mistake; a drunken mistake that she hadn't even realised she had made until the morning came and brought the horrifying realisation of what she had done along with the worst hangover of her adult life.

Miss Owens had fucked her student.

She looked up at Brad again. He still didn't appear to be aware of her or of the letter but it could simply be an act to divert suspicion away from him.

Until now Olivia was certain the young man was completely unaware that he had even had sex with his teacher that night; the only two people in the world that knew were Olivia and her roommate. That's what she thought anyway...

It was a fool's hope to assume she had gotten away with something so imprudent.

That night was the biggest regret of her life. She and her roommate had gone on a girls night out and got

wasted

. Olivia had just broken up with her boyfriend and was looking to talk over her issues with a bottle of tequila and more cocktails than her wallet would like her to remember, Brad was out with his friends for one of their 18th birthdays and they were likely just looking for girls to take back and fuck.

Well, Olivia got her drinks to inhale and he found his girl to fuck.

Brad had come up to the two of them alone and pretty drunk himself. This was a blessing because it stopped him from recognising his dressed up Physics teacher with her hair down and her tits out, and allowed him to spend the night making slurred conversation with her cleavage exclusively.

Unfortunately, Olivia didn't recognise him either in the state she was in, and she continued not to recognise him until she woke up several hours later after a night of incredibly intense fucking and looked over to see who gave it to her.

Even the panic she felt now couldn't match the fear that went through her when she identified her naked student snoring just inches away from her; Olivia's heart hurt for a full week after that scare.

Who took these photographs? Did someone leave a camera in her room?

She apprehensively picked up the first one, almost afraid it would burn her skin on touch.

The teacher was pictured on her knees in front of him, still dressed in the short skirt, low cut top, and open-toed heels that she worn out that evening; only her breasts were pulled out of the top, exposing her hard nipples to the camera. Her face was fortunately obscured, but only because it was buried into Brad's crotch as the teacher took his hard dick deep into her throat.

Olivia winced, she looked like a slut but at least she couldn't be seen. Maybe all the photos were like that.

Flipping to the next one, Miss Owens found it to be from the same blowjob but taken 2 seconds earlier, just before she had taken his cock in her mouth when her face was very unobstructed and very,

very

clear.

It would be obvious to anyone who saw that it was her.

Fuck!

The rest were no better. Once it was clear that the girl in just one of the images was her it wasn't important how many of the others showed her face; so long as the man and woman photographed were clearly the same people from picture to picture then that was all that was needed to conclude that she was the woman in all the photos.

And one was what they had.

The rest showed her, in less detail, getting fucked over the bed, against the hard wall, with her face pressed into the floor, and so on. 8 pictures of Olivia Owens getting taken in every way she needed to be and then some, and the look captured on her intoxicated face made it clear she loved every second of it.

Oh my god!

It was humiliating enough to know someone simply saw these pictures let alone consider the threat of EVERYONE seeing them.

Oh fuck she was about to get fired! She would never work as a teacher again anywhere!

Trying to keep herself calm, Olivia looked carefully at each of the pictures, struggling to see if anything stood out about them. It was hard to ignore the statuesque figure of her student fucking her small, athletic body but the teacher tried her hardest to shut down that part of her brain.

It was clear the camera that took the pictures was mounted on her desk, from its position relative to where they were and the stagnancy of the room between photographs. In fact it almost looked like it came from her computer...

She gasped.

Her webcam!

Someone had hacked her webcam and captured images of her whole night!

That meant they could be anyone... They could be anyone in the whole world and there was no way to know who.

Fuck!

The situation was now more dire than simply a dumb student fucking with her and lacking the balls to execute their threat. She could be dealing with a dangerous man, someone who didn't care about ruining her life, or putting her in an awful position.

This letter was very likely a declaration of blackmail.

With shaky hands, the Physics teacher returned the offending pictures into the envelope before any student could wander up and see them on her desk. She was embarrassed enough as it was.

The terror was beginning to take over her body as the awareness of what was happening really started to sink in. In all likelihood, her life was about to be destroyed.

The young teacher held the letter tight; trying hard to hold back the emotions from leaking to her class of unsuspecting students. She couldn't afford to show them weakness nor alert them to the brewing situation.

Be strong Olivia!

She told herself.

Read the letter, figure out what he wants, and then work out the best way to solve this.

Miss Owens started reading.

____

Anne typed out a careful text to her blackmailer. It seemed like it would do the trick.

Sir, this thong is getting very uncomfortable and causing me pain. May I take it off?

Pressing send, she put the phone down and looked around the room to see if her trap caught a blackmailer.

Anne was extremely proud of her plan.

Should the blackmailer reply and she saw no one in the classroom touch their phone, then she could scratch everyone present off the list.

Should the blackmailer reply and she saw someone check their phone at the exact moment he would be typing, it was a near certainty that she had found her man.

And in a worst case scenario where he doesn't reply before the lesson ends, then the effort still wasn't wasted; even then there was still information to be digested.

Because if the blackmailer WAS in the room and he didn't want to expose his identity then waiting until the lesson was over to reply was the smart thing to do; but if he were in a different classroom, then no such restriction would be needed and he could reply freely.

Now, while there were 100 other factors that could stop him replying in the same timeframe the simple fact that he was able to intelligently reply in a different classroom but not this one tipped the odds slightly. It meant that it was more likely the blackmailer was in her Physics class if he didn't reply before the lesson ended, even if it was only

slightly

more likely.

This was a good plan; there was no way to lose.

Plus her thong WAS actually becoming deeply irritating, so Anne wouldn't mind him agreeing to her request.

Across the room she kept her eyes locked on Brad, only looking away for mere moments to make sure no one else was texting either.

Come on you bastard, take out your phone! I know it is you! You are about to get outplayed, I'm going to put you in jail and laugh at you the way you and your friends laughed at me!

His eyes never left his book.

Come on... Come oooooon. Look!