At and the College Confessions

Katrina woke up in a room she didn't recognize. From the crumpled clothes heaped on the floor and the style of the posters around the walls, she could tell it was a guy's room... but it certainly wasn't her boyfriend's bedroom. Oops.

Not for the first time, she tried to piece together some memories for clues as to how she'd got in this situation again. The owner of the bed wasn't present to help her out with that -- she was alone and naked under the dirty sheets. Where were her clothes?

The nightclub. Fancy dress party. James had persuaded her to wear a super-slutty outfit. She'd let a bunch of people spank her, and then... had James abandoned her there? The night got blurry after that, and then there was a big blank. She'd drunk way too much... again. Her body wasn't happy with her at all. Her mouth was sticky and dry, her head was throbbing badly, and -- she shifted her body slightly and winced -- she felt pretty damn sore down there, like she'd been fucked six ways from Sunday. In, as the pain was making her quickly aware, both places -- front and back.

Whatever she'd drunk last night, her insides apparently wanted it out. She felt the nausea rising quickly. No time to look for clothes. She slid out of the bed and flung open the door, looked across a hall. One door was ajar -- a bathroom? Kat dashed naked across the hall to it. Yes it was. She pushed the door shut quickly and rushed over to the toilet, vomiting violently into it for a couple of minutes before flushing her stomach contents away. She had to pee, too. She certainly had drunk a lot of booze -- her urine smelled like wine. Shit, she felt sore down there.

She cleaned herself up and checked herself over -- as usual, nothing serious, just what you'd expect from too much booze and a long hard fucking. She examined herself in the mirror. Apart from the pallor and bleariness of a hangover, she was otherwise in fairly decent shape. Her long, thick black hair was tangled and in need of a brush, her big blue eyes were not at their brightest, and her full lips were lacking in color, like the rest of her skin. But apart from being pale, her complexion was still flawless and smooth, and she still looked beautiful even on a bad day. There was a little light bruising here and there over her naked body, but nothing major - Kat didn't bruise easily. Her pert C-cup breasts still stood up proudly, and her five foot nine, slender, long-legged athlete's body remained beautiful despite the punishment she gave it. She fingered her nipples lightly, and the shaved mound between her legs. Tender, but not too bad. She slid her finger back to touch her anus. It hurt. A lot.

"You done puking up the last of your cum and vodka cocktail?" a guy's voice called from the hall. The door opened and Kat was caught naked with the fingers of one hand groping her own nipples, and the other between her legs, with one finger almost up her bum.

The guy standing there was tall -- maybe six foot two, slim and gangling, with a mop of dirty blond hair and an expression that was half smirk, half astonishment. "After all you got last night and you still want more? You're unbelievable!"

Katrina crossed one arm over her breasts to hide her dark nipples, and kept the other hand between her legs to cover her private areas in a vain attempt at modesty. She recognized the guy as one of James' friends but couldn't recall his name. "Hi. Where's James?" she demanded.

"James dumped you last night." The guy's eyes sparkled with apparent amusement and enjoyment of Katrina's nakedness. "He -- and these are his words -- got fed up with having a girlfriend who was a slut and a whore."

"He's the one who had me dress up as a slut last night then left me there," replied Kat defensively, feeling her cheeks starting to flush with shame.

"After learning about your behavior over the last couple of months, I suppose he felt it was appropriate."

"My behavior?"

"He found out about you cheating on him... with like ten other guys."

"Ten? No way, it was just a couple of times, when..."

"Maybe on a couple of occasions, but how many guys did you fuck each time? Seems like whenever you cheated on him, you didn't just do it with one guy, you had a whole gang-bang. Speaking of which, how much do you remember about last night?"

"Not much," admitted Kat. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Okay -- I'll tell you what happened last night, if you give me your version of your previous couple of months of sexcapades ...when you were out fucking everyone except my friend. I'm very interested to know."

"Can I have a glass of water?"

"Sure, come down to the kitchen."

"I don't have any clothes on."

"That didn't seem to bother you last night."

Kat sighed. "Where are my clothes?"

"All you had here was your coat, but I threw that outside."

"What the fuck? What did you do that for?"

"It was covered in cum... and fuck knows what else. So were you, but I made you get in the shower when I brought you back here."

Kat could feel her cheeks still getting hotter and redder, but her defenses kicked in and she kept her composure. "Well... then could I at least have a shirt or something?"

The guy returned to his room and she followed him, running into one of his house-mates in the hall, who stood there leering at her nude body. She paused, startled and embarrassed, and then rushed through to the bedroom. The guy handed her a creased and faded tan shirt, and she put it on hurriedly. The cuffs hung down over her hands, but her ass and privates were only just barely covered. Also, it seemed to be missing all but two buttons, which were up at the neck and collar.

"Great," scowled Kat, and followed the guy grudgingly down to the kitchen, wrapping the shirt around her body and folding her arms tightly over it to hold it shut. "By the way," she said as they went downstairs, "what's your name?"

"You don't even remember my name?" Laughing, the guy looked back up at her, obviously enjoying the view of her intimate areas, exposed to him from his vantage point below her. "I've hung out with you and James like a dozen times. I guess you never noticed me. It's Jonathan. Jon."

He led her into the kitchen and she sat down at the table, struggling to cover herself. Unfortunately the kitchen chair was not cushioned and sitting on the hard wood hurt her ass like hell. Jon handed her a glass of water, which she began sipping at gratefully. The hangover would take a while to dissipate but the water certainly helped immediately with her dry mouth and nausea.

Jon studied her with an amused expression, and she thought she read both disdain and pity there, too. She could handle the amusement best, and focused on that.

"So," he said, "I have the phone number of a girl called Miriam who said to pass it along to you -- she said she has some photos you might be interested in."

The name triggered a memory in Kat from the previous night -- some dom girl dressed in a school uniform... Kat had ended up groveling on the floor of the nightclub in her underwear and letting the girl whip her?

"She helped me piece together some of the evening's events that I missed," continued Jon. "Apparently there wasn't much you weren't willing to do to humiliate yourself, in order to get people to buy you drinks. I'd seen how much you'd had to drink already, and after we left with James, I eventually decided I'd better go back to check on you, despite what he said. By that time, though, it looked like you'd already been gang-banged by half the guys in the club." He shook his head in disbelief. "I found you in the men's room in the middle of a crowd of guys, and took you out of there even though you still seemed to want more. You kept telling me what a horny slut you were. Hell, you were shouting it at every guy we passed on the way out."

Jon's words unlocked some more images from the booze-fogged murk of Katrina's memory. Images of being on her knees, giving a blow-job... and on her back, naked, her legs opened eagerly to receive one of the many masked men that stood around her...

"Some of this coming back to you?" Jon asked. "Speaking of coming... you certainly got your fill last night. It's hard to believe -- when I first saw you, I thought you were some kind of goddess, strutting around like you were untouchable. But then you get enough booze in you and suddenly it's not enough for you to be wanted by everyone around, you have to let them do you, too?"

Kat paused. "So, did you... 'do me'..?"

"You don't remember?"

"If I did, I wouldn't have to ask, would I?" Kat responded sourly.

Jon shrugged, and told her what else he knew of the previous night's events. As he described the Halloween evening from what he'd seen and what he'd been told by both participants and by voyeurs, more of Katrina's memory returned to her and she had to wonder exactly how many men she'd had sex with last night (was it really a dozen or more?) ...and if any of it had made its way on to the internet. ('Kat and the Succubus Costume'). She guessed that's how James had found out about her earlier 'indiscretions', and Jon told her that yes, there had been some pictures of her posted in some very compromising positions, which had found their way to James eventually. This girl Miriam apparently had more, too -- Jon gave Kat a scrap of paper with her number and suggested that she call her sometime soon.

Kat tried to recapture the feelings of the previous night, but it was almost like someone else had taken over her body -- she did still vaguely recall the sense of freedom though, of relinquishing control and letting the total submissive out, damn all the consequences, and acting like an animal in heat.

Jon had stopped talking, and Katrina realized that he still hadn't described much of what happened after the club, and so still hadn't answered her question. She tried again. "So, did you..."

"Your turn," interrupted Jon. "How about you tell me about the other gang-bangs that you enjoyed while you were supposed to be dating James." He refilled her glass of water. "I've got plenty of time."

Kat sighed, thought back over the past few months, and did as Jon asked.

***

There were a few parties that Kat had attended without James' company. At one of them, there had been a guy called Sean (also called 'total stud-muffin' by some of her friends, and 'scary out-of-control alcoholic' by others) whom she had ended up in the bathroom with after a lot of drinking and flirting. She had ended up chasing him there, as far as she could remember, to try and steal his drink because he had poured all the remaining crème liqueur into his pint glass.

Despite his excessive alcohol consumption, he -- like Kat -- still managed to keep in great shape, and he had a magnetic confidence and a handsome face that glowed with enthusiasm for life beneath an unruly mop of dark hair. He had a cheekiness that bordered dangerously on arrogance, but in Kat's similar state of inebriation, all she had seen was a winning charm, and she had been drawn in like a butterfly to nectar.

Unfortunately, this butterfly had already drunk a little too much nectar that night, and so her memories of it were vague. She'd been wearing hot pink 'Backstage Bambi' lipstick, which hadn't survived well after half a pint more of liqueur interspersed, toward the end, with sticky-sweet snogging. She'd worn a little red blouse and low-riding tight blue jeans, brazenly showing off the lacy white thong at her hips ("very patriotic," someone had said). She remembered being reluctant as Sean had started trying to pull them off her, but it had given his hands easier access to the parts of her that felt the most pleasure, and by then her desires had taken over.

Had she intended to cheat on James that night? Not consciously, but she could probably have guessed what might happen, knowing how easily her inhibitions could slip away - like her clothes - once she got into a certain state.

She remembered moments of the events afterwards. Sean's mouth as they kissed, his strong tongue, his hand beneath her blouse, cupping her breasts, as his other hand tried to slide into her panties beneath her jeans. Him quickly getting frustrated with the lack of access, undoing her jeans and pulling them down and off, along with her panties, and then fingering her. Pulling her blouse up over her arms and over her face, leaving it there to pin her arms and blindfold her as he laid her down on the floor.

Kat remembered them fucking like that on the floor, with him -- still mostly dressed, in white shirt and black jeans -- on top of her, lying pinned and blind on her back on the bathmat enjoying the hot, carefree, in-the-moment sex. Then her anxiety, upon realizing there was no lock on the bathroom door when the muted noise of the party suddenly became much louder and she could hear the laughing voices of more guys immediately above her.

Sean had shared her with at least two of them. There had been some threat of naked photos of her in that compromising position, evidence of the "rare catch of the albino giraffe," and some athletics joke involving the triple jump. She could have yelled for help but instead she gave in to their cajolement, some part of her getting off on the thrill, especially when she heard the bathroom door open again to allow more voyeurs. So she'd let them have her, pinned down, blindfolded and helpless, and while she'd struggled and bucked a bit while they (she still didn't even know who, exactly) started to take turns with her, she'd swiftly submitted and was quickly cooing soft sounds of pleasure.

***

Jon listened, leaning back on his chair at the kitchen table and obviously enjoying himself, as Kat grudgingly related to him what she remembered. While her memories of the party were vague (she was uncertain but she had suspicions that there may have been even more misadventures that night), she did recall quite clearly the situation with another guy, Damien. It had all started out quite innocently -- so she still told herself -- before getting out of control.

Like her, Damien was on the college athletics team. He was a sprinter, she was a distance runner. Of course, they made jokes about that. He was quick out of the gate, she could go all night - that kind of thing. They were both in relationships, so they kept their flirting innocent enough, but they did push the boundaries of propriety.

Kat found him pretty damn attractive -- he was broad, with rock-solid muscles like a pebble beach, had a beautiful, confident smile and a strong, magnetic personality that almost made her melt. Secretly she knew full well that he felt very attracted to her, too (most guys were), though neither of them said anything.

One evening after a race event, she let him take her back to his house to give her a massage... and it felt great. They kept it proper -- she kept her clothes on, and he kept his hands from straying inappropriately. But it strengthened the unspoken spark between them, and got her pretty excited, even while she told herself it was all innocent.

He offered her another massage after some training a couple of days later, and again, she accepted. And again, until it quickly became a regular arrangement. One time, he suggested she take off her t-shirt so he could rub her back better. She told herself that it made sense, and she complied. The thrill of his touch against her skin increased. The next time, he suggested she take off her running pants as well, so he could massage her legs properly. So she lay there on his bed in just her underwear while his hands moved all over her bared skin, loving his touch while still reassuring herself that they weren't doing anything improper. She maintained this thought the next few times he massaged her, after she'd slid out of her bra, too, and after his strong fingers had begun to linger near or brush over places that sent even more of a thrill through her. It had happened so gradually that she was still able to delude herself she was still in control, while secretly she started to yearn for his touch.

One evening when she was invited her back for a massage, Kat arrived at Damien's house with him to find two of his friends in his room. She was surprised to see them, but he said to relax and just pretend they weren't there -- they'd got a dvd to watch and their player was broken, so he'd offered the use of his. In exchange, they'd brought beer. Katrina accepted one. She'd have preferred that the two of them were alone, but her secret craving for his touch won through, and she lay down on the bed as usual.

Damien massaged her shoulders through her shirt while the muted sound of a Thai martial arts movie played in the background and the smell of beer wafted gently over her. "Why don't you lose this," he suggested gently, tugging at her t-shirt. She decided to go ahead and pretend the other guys weren't there, pulling it off over her head and facing away from them, resting her cheek on her arms as she lay on her belly on the bed.

Damien's strong hands massaged her neck and shoulders, sliding down her slender back and kneading her shoulder-blades. His fingers caught under her bra, their smooth movement over her skin interrupted. He left them there, unmoving. He didn't need to say anything -- the pause in their work was enough. She undid her bra and slid out of it. It was just like sunbathing, really -- innocent enough.

His fingers continued to massage her back, along her spine and down her sides, pausing again at the waistband of her running pants. He pulled on them very slightly -- not enough to tug them down, just enough to make his intention known. Wordlessly, she lifted her hips in assent, and he pulled her pants down slowly, and off along with her socks as he reached her ankles. Kat felt that if anyone spoke, it would break the spell, and she would lose her nerve. While they remained silent, she could still pretend that it was just the two of them, and only he could see her lying there in just her skimpy, red, lace-trim panties.

He started to gently rub her hamstrings, then slid his hands down to work on her calf muscles before moving back up again. His hands slowly moved up her thighs and massaged closer to her ass and her lower glutes, until his fingers actually slid a little way under her knicker elastic. One finger moved over her pussy and she let out an involuntary muffled squeak of surprised pleasure. Her body was almost humming with anticipation now and every little touch sent a thrill through her. She was breathing deeply, enjoying every sensation.

Damien moved his hands up, brushing her buttocks and sliding them up along her spine to rub her neck and shoulders before working down her back again. His hands kneaded her lats, and slid down a little so that they brushed the sides of her breasts as they did so. She bit back another little gasp of pleasure. He did it again, firmer this time, his fingertips making her tingle until she felt her nipples began to react, pressed beneath her into the bed-covers.

Progressing steadily down to her lower back, his fingers brushed underneath the elastic of her panties at the waist. And again as he massaged the base of her spine, lower, a fingertip beneath her panties almost sliding between the cleft of her ass. While everyone remained silent, the spell still held, and Kat continued to focus only on Damien's wonderful touch.

Moving down from her back to her thighs, he brushed her buttocks again, more firmly. Still, she could pretend that every inappropriate touch was accidental, and the spell remained unbroken. But such a strong yearning had awoken in her now that she cared little for anything except her growing arousal. When her masseur's hands began to linger on her inner thighs, brushing a finger delicately between her legs, she found herself lifting her hips and backing up into his touch, pressing herself eagerly against his fingers. She was his now, and he knew it. Without further pretense at accident, he massaged her clit through the thin damp cloth of her panties, causing her to react with breathy gasps.