Blac Screen

____________

The crunch of frozen grass flowed into the air with a satisfying crispness as Anne bounded over a green strip of the pavement.

For once she was dressed warmly. Thick socks smothered her feet which were then squeezed into cosy running shoes, her freshly shaved legs were wrapped in tight jogging bottoms which clung smooth against her skin as she moved, and her head, ears, and neck were all safely sheltered by a combination of scarf and hat, with a red coat completing the outfit.

A warm way to go for a winter run but her bed would have been warmer still, and cold winds were cruel to eyes that were still shy to see in the new day.

Anne blinked away the built up moisture as she jogged across the common.

It was a Tuesday morning in the middle of February and the city was just beginning to rouse. Typically at this hour Anne would be suffering the interruption of her 3rd alarm and rolling over for her last 5 minutes of sleep. Instead, she was going for a run through the bitter but tranquil streets mapping her neighbourhood, fantasising over the extra time she could have had with her mattress had

he

not torn her away from it.

You'll run each day unless I say otherwise,

he had said.

Before the end of the week you'll join a gym and receive your new exercise clothes. I'll send you a workout plan along with new rules on what you can and can't eat once I've finalised them, and I'll arrange a personal instructor to make sure you stick to it.

By the end of it, you might even be in good enough shape to be worth keeping. If you work hard that is.

She was more than halfway through her run now, with just a few more blocks to go before the finish line of home came into view. What a beautiful sight that would be. Anne needed it to be over too, because her lack of fitness was beginning to take its toll on her lungs.

Panting, she reared the corner and maintained pace, likely looking completely pathetic as she went by. There was no grace to her movements, no finesse. Each step was a loud thud unfitting for a girl her size to be making and each passing minute weighed on her struggling muscles.

Getting fit had always been a nagging dream latched onto the back of her mind since she learned what it meant to be self-conscious of awkward growths of fat and flabby limbs. A personal trainer forcing her when she couldn't force herself was something she might have confessed to needing a week ago under very different circumstances.

I should eat like a pig.

She thought as she thumped along.

I should eat 100 burgers a day and get fat just to spite him.

The thought lacked bite and Anne knew it. However misogynistic and offensive the rule might be she would follow through with it regardless, for she was beginning to learn that it wasn't going to get any kinder than this; only worse.

So why didn't she just give up?

Brad wasn't awake yet when she finally made it home, or at least he hadn't left his room by the look of it. Nothing in the kitchen had been displaced, no lights were turned on, and no footsteps echoed from the bathroom. It was still too early for him.

Hopefully my car is working today.

Anne thought, she really didn't want a repeat of her journey to school yesterday.

Or her journey home for that matter.

Creeping up the creaky stairs, she stifled a yawn and turned, not towards her room but instead she swivelled the opposite way and went into her parent's.

Last night her blackmailer had come up with a new rule for her follow. Fortunately, he hadn't thought of everything.

After every run you'll need to work in time to have a shower and every shower you have is going to be a little different.

He went on to dictate the specifics. For a start she was to shave from neck to toe every single time she washed, though she was to leave her pubic region as it was for the time being.

In addition to this, she also had to spend 2 minutes of her time using the showerhead to masturbate, utilising the heavy pressure to tease and frustrate herself before her day began.

And thirdly, in case Anne had any thoughts of not following these rules, she was to record each and every wash, making use of the tripod that was delivered to her house last night to mount her phone at a good angle, and leaving the screen door open so it had an unobstructed view of her naked body.

Just like the postman who delivered said tripod had gotten.

These rules were inescapable for Anne, and would from now on be part of her new reality.

But his final instruction allowed for one small sidestep.

Oh and by the way, you will not be allowed to lock the bathroom door while you shower, change, or masturbate.

Which, it seemed, was his way of keeping her on edge over getting caught. If the door was unlocked then every step on the landing was going to keep her on her toes; not knowing if someone might not hear the shower running and accidentally wander in.

Or intentionally wander in.

But with her parents out of the country, their en-suite bathroom was unoccupied, which meant there was a bathroom in the house that no one would end up marching into while Anne was... less than decent.

And her abuser would never know.

Red and sweaty, Anne pulled off her clothes one by one and turned on the hot water.

The run had been exhausting, but not as bad as she had initially feared. Nonetheless, the exercise had left her feeling dirty and this shower, despite her master's edits, was not unwelcome.

Easing a palm under the stream, she waited for the temperature to settle before adjusting the taps accordingly. A hot shower was needed after that cold run.

Satisfied, Anne turned away to fulfil the first unsavoury task; setting up the camera.

The tripod had been left in the bathroom from the night before, so all that was required was mounting the phone in its grasp and pressing record.

She had to wonder if pressing the button was even necessary; he could turn on the camera himself just as he did with her laptop. Anne didn't assume he was magical or anything, but it had already been well established he had taken control of her mobile as well as her computer, so he should be able to do the same things. That made logical sense to her anyway.

First, Anne let it record her unlocking the bathroom door before she turned it back to face the shower. It was easier being naked like this, knowing that although she was being recorded she wasn't currently being watched.

Probably not being watched anyway.

With the water now perfect she stepped into the cubicle and sighed reflexively. It felt good.

This wasn't the first shower Anne had taken under her new rules. Last night she had been permitted one after a horrible evening of torture. It had taken nearly an hour to wash the smell of arousal from her body, and then at the end of it the showerhead had nearly been enough to push her to cumming in a culmination of all her denial.

It wasn't quite so effective now.

Her pouty lips formed a soft O as the pressure hit her sensitive pussy, sparking an odd flood of pleasure. It wasn't the same feeling that her fingers produced, it was something alien to that. Something weaker but less predictable. Something weird.

The red light of her camera stared at her and Anne stared back; her 2 minutes had begun.

I wonder how much worse today is going to get.

The water hit a sensitive spot and she moaned.

I wonder...

___________

Sick. Olivia felt sick.

A fast cooling cup of coffee sat on her desk, challenging her; staring at her. She grimaced and looked away, losing the bout.

Weak.

She could almost hear the paper cup laughing at her, gurgling with a mouth full of hot liquid, spluttering carelessly over her desk and staining the cheap wood. "Olivia" was written across the side, and the dotted "i's" were its eyes, never blinking and never breaking sight.

It saw through her façade of normality, asking her why she bothered stopping by her normal coffee shop to buy a drink she didn't drink, asking her why she came into work early to do work she wasn't doing, asking why she didn't call in sick when she felt so sick and was sick to be here.

Her head fell to her hands and she rubbed her temples, trying to ease her headache.

Sleep hadn't come to Olivia last night; it was unwelcome. When the first rays of dawn flitted through the blinds her eyes were wired open, staring at the same tiny spot in the ceiling they'd been fixed on for hours, attempting to process things that made her shiver.

She hadn't quite managed it.

Most of the morning had passed now and the exhaustion was beginning to claw at her. It was felt in her failing muscles, her restless, bouncing leg, and the twitch in her eyelid that refused to pass. It was felt in her slow wit and her foggy memory. It was felt deep in her bones; such a deep feeling that it seemed to her that she was mere moments away from crumbling into a sloppy pile of flesh, fat, and skin as her skeleton spun to dust.

Even then she doubted sleep would come to her, how could it? What nightmares would she face when the exhaustion finally seized her?

But then again the waking world was already a nightmare wasn't it?

A horrible, horrible nightmare.

Someone knocked on the glass of the door and Olivia jumped.

They were gentle knocks with a cheerful, rhythmic beat; unthreatening but Olivia still cowered at the sound of them.

Her instincts screamed her to alertness, ready to run or fight, and the impulse didn't ease much when Mrs Bailey's sunny face peered around the opening door.

A friend.

"Good morning, Olivia!" The older woman smiled warmly, in a way that would convince anyone she meant it. "You're in early today."

"Mrs Bailey." The flat response wasn't much of a greeting. Olivia pressed a sharp nail firmly into her thigh until there was pain. She needed to regain composure, why was she being so formal? "Yeah, I just had some work to finish before first class. May as well do it here."

"Oh well then in that case don't let me keep you! I only popped in to see if you had any of those mechanics textbooks lying around."

"The old ones?"

Agatha smiled again. Well, in truth she hadn't stopped smiling, but it shone more in certain moments than others; as a good smile should. A trustworthy smile.

But I don't trust you.

"Well, there are many old textbooks we don't use any longer but you're too young to have seen most of those I should think. I'm certain you know the one I'm after so I'm going to just stop babbling on, may I have a look in the cupboard?"

Olivia shook her head, not ungrateful for the distraction. "No don't worry I'll grab them for you. How many were you after?"

"15 would be nice but any you have will do."

"Let's see then." Olivia pushed the nose of her glasses back onto her face and stood with unanticipated difficulty; she had almost forgotten the pain in her legs while she was leisurely seated. It had been the same surprise when she got out of bed this morning, she could only hope Agatha didn't notice anything amiss.

What would that even matter if she did? Was this woman a detective now? Was she going to catch a muttered curse and immediately unravel all the depraved things Olivia did last night?

That would be ridiculous.

"Olivia, is everything okay?"

Too long. She had been still for too long.

Get it together!

Her mind cried.

Get it together get it together get it together!

"Of course!" Olivia let the cheerful light touch her tone, maybe slightly more than intended. That would just scream that something was off, she shouldn't come across too upbeat either.

Distraction was her best tool.

"Sorry, what did you want these for? Are you teaching something from the old syllabus."

"Oh no no, nothing like that-"

Good, she got side-tracked.

"-I'm not a strong lover of the new textbook, it doesn't cover certain topics as well as the old one did but maybe that's just my stubborn old brain refusing to budge."

"I know what you mean."

The cupboard was a mess; Olivia really needed to put some time aside to get everything in order. Books, papers, and boxes were here, there, and everywhere. Digging through it was an odyssey.

It was typically aggravating, but this morning of all days it was therapeutic. The river of conversation ran dry and in its place the search sucked her up, she had no time to think over the tortures she'd put herself through. The stripping, the masturbation, the exposure; she didn't think about any of it at...

Olivia froze, crouched over the latest pile of junk.

Shit.

She was thinking about it.

Even as her body got moving again the dam within her was starting to shatter. A shard of concrete crumbled and there was the image of her crawling around, wiggling her ass; great needles of water shot through and suddenly she was humping her pillow and moaning as loud as she could; vast cracks splinted every inch of the wall and there she was again, holding the banana and... and....

No, it was too much to think about right now. She couldn't bear it.

The whole thing was a trap; 100's of hours of stolen footage from her laptop had been accumulated and all she'd achieved was providing him with more.

To call herself an idiot would be too kind; a complete and utter fool was slightly better but still not enough. Where was this going to lead now that he knew he could control her? He'd just ask for more and more and more until one day she said no and then...

And then it would all be for nothing.

"Found them." She yelled over her shoulder, voice cracking. "But I only have 6."

"6 will be perfect dear, thank you very much."

There might have been more than 6 but she could go no further. Olivia needed to be left alone and quickly.

"Hello everyone, you may call me Miss Cum Bucket and today I'll be teaching you how to treat a woman while she's pleasuring herself."

Her grip on the textbooks clamped, she had to force her muscles to ease before it turned into a wrestling match between the two teachers.

Agatha took them happily; unaware she almost had to fight to pry them from Olivia's hands.

"Are you sure you're okay, Olivia? You seem pale."

"It's nothing, I'm just tired. Thank you though... for your concern."

Neither one of them was convinced but fortunately it wasn't pressed further.

"Alright then dear, if you're sure. If you ever need to talk about anything don't hesitate to find me, okay?"

Yeah, sure. I'm certain you have lots of experience with manipulative rapists coercing you for sexual pleasure, you fat old cow.

Too harsh. The thought left a bad taste and the guilt followed in a snap; this wasn't her.

"I won't forget, thank you Agatha."

As the door closed with a delicate click Olivia fell back into her chair far less gracefully than she intended.

A month; how was she going to survive a month of this shit?

"My name is Olivia Owens, and I'm a shameless whore who fucks her drunk students."

Olivia reached out with shaking hands and raised the full coffee cup to her cracked lips.

It was cold.

________________

Maggie and Beth were waiting for her in the common area.

The room was split into 3, not by doors or walls but by purpose.

Stepping in would find yourself first in the kitchen, which wasn't truly a kitchen in any real sense of the word. There was a sink, a kettle, and a microwave; the first of which was always filled with dirty cutlery and unwashed plates. Aside from the cupboards and drawers that these came from that was it; that's all the kitchen had to offer along with two small, white tables students had to battle to eat off of.

After the kitchen was a sort of lounge; the true meat of the common area. Here the tables were more abundant and colourful, dotted about the room like scattered sweets on the living room carpet. Each one came with matching chairs, so the purple table sported 5 purple chairs, the red table 5 red chairs, and so on. However, they very rarely found themselves in their assigned spots since people were inclined to move them around wherever they pleased. As such the area ended up looking less artistic and more "explosion at the paint factory"; far from bland but also far from elegant. Behind all this stood a few lockers that were rarely used for being too small though they were equally colourful at the least.

It was brightly lit and inviting, a stark contrast to the dull kitchen that preceded it.

Finally, to the far right of common room computers were available on larger, more formal desks. Each desk was quartered with a monitor centred on each section. 3 desks in total meant 12 computers, which was far from enough for the multitudes of people who needed them. Often the people sat working would be outnumbered 2 to 1 by lurking students, pacing up and down and waiting to fight for their place. There were other computer rooms in the building of course but they weren't always open for use.

Anne usually just brought her laptop with her to avoid the stress, but this early in the morning there were only a few people occupying spots should she need one.

Her two friends were sat in the middle section, on a bright yellow table pushed back against the clear glass wall, probably so they could watch the people play football outside if Anne had to take a guess.

Typical.

It was Beth who saw her first, as she often would.

"There she is, speak of the devil."

Panic set in.

It was brief, a lightning bolt through her brain in the form of a thought, but it stung; the image of a secret being released, of 2 friends pilling through pictures, ploughing through videos, seeing EVERYTHING.

Laughing.

And it was gone. She saw Beth's smile and relaxed.

Nothing had happened, her secret was safe.

"Did I interrupt something?"

An empty blue chair awaited her and she took it, opposite her friends.

"Where were you yesterday?" Maggie blurted the instant her ass hit the cushion. "You disappeared."

"I went home at lunch."

Beth pouted with shapely lips that Anne had once been so envious of. She still was, actually.

"You said you wanted to stay at mine."

Shit!

Anne had forgotten about that.

"We assumed you had gone to stay at Adam's instead." She continued. "But then he messaged both of us later asking if we'd seen you. Apparently you weren't replying to his texts."

Time to herself was brief last night, but not non-existent. She'd messed up. It was stupid; she'd let him leave marks in her real life after only 2 days, and now Anne was creating a trail of suspicious activity. A message to a friend was a simple thing and something she would normally do, avoiding it was small but it was still something.

A little missing text here, a little disappearing act there, maybe throw in a few glum looks and lack of concentration and then...

Spotlight. The heat would be on her and the questions would stir.

But maybe... Maybe she could just tell them?

Anne looked from Beth to Maggie and then back to Beth, taking in their concerned glances. Being alone hurt, bearing this burden as she had was already beginning to force her into isolation.

Maybe she should ask for help...

"I'm sorry," She said, sincerely. "It was a hectic day, I was stressed; I didn't think anyone was going to start worrying."

Beth took her hand in hers and smiled with perfect, pearly teeth. "It's okay you big dummy. No need to be so dramatic. As long as you're alright it doesn't matter."

"Have you still not replied to Adam?" Maggie asked.

Anne shook her head.

"Why not?"

"Obviously because he pissed her off!" Beth scolded, saving Anne from another excuse. "He never should have agreed to tutor that bitch. I told him not to."