Student Life

This wasn't right. Being blackmailed into doing something disgusting was one thing, but having to come up with your own ideas of what to do on top of that was just plain nasty. The whole of my life had turned nasty, but this was sort of making me collude in the process and just added another layer of anguish to my thinking. I had to do this, but I was going to get him back somehow!

Right then girl. Concentrate. What is this blackmailing bastard going to find watching you doing disgusting? My first thought was that he had hours and hours of my videos already available to him. Most were of me running around naked -- both indoors and out -- and masturbating. Lots of masturbating. That was the sort of thing that would be thought of as disgusting if shown in public.

He had all of that. He must have watched chunks of it already, even on fast forward, to get a flavour of what was going on in the various recordings, and, apparently, none of this qualified as disgusting enough for him. Erotic, pornographic, gross. Maybe bits of all of those, but he wants disgusting. Pants!

I was having a hard time with this. He'd just forced me to go and rip the clothes off a guy so that he could then go on to screw me up the arse. That was a bloody horrible thing to have to do, and was a disgusting act that was still causing me pain. Physical, mental and emotional. To then force me to go onto the next task the instant that I returned to my room was inhuman.

Okay then. What for me, would a naked girl be doing that would be disgusting? Things with others who were underage would be sick, rather than disgusting. Animals? Screwing animals would certainly hit the mark for me as disgusting. My mind was ranging too far though, and I needed to rein it in. What, within the limits of my room, would do the trick? There were certainly no animals in here. Thankfully.

What I wanted to do right now was go to the toilet. After a soapy butt-fucking it felt like there was waste that wanted to exit. I'd farted just now, had felt an actual soap-bubble form, and then heard it pop as it stretched too far. My butt cheeks felt damp inside as I moved as well. I wasn't going to touch there to check, but it made sense that some of the mess would have escaped during the procedure.

I needed to see what would exit naturally, and then use tissues to clean out what I could. If I was meeting Scott's friends in an hour or so then having any secretions from there was a big no-no. Having them see me naked would be bad enough, without that to add to it. On top of that, he'd said that there would be a task there as well. The day hadn't started well, but it could certainly get worse.

I went into the bathroom and then stopped. Things that went on in bathrooms could often be classed as disgusting if shown to others. We all did them, but we didn't want to see other people doing them. At least not unless you were paying to do so on some weird specialist website!

I still wasn't sure what the hell I was going to do, but if there was anything worth recording going to come out of it then I needed the laptop in place. My bedside cabinet was about the right height for the machine to rest on, so I dumped the things on the top onto my bed, and then lifted it into the doorway, moving the laptop across.

Was I supposed to announce that I was starting? I didn't know, but decided that he could figure it out. I still wasn't quite sure where this was going, so saying this was it and then not coming up with the goods would be a failure. Better to just roll with it and if it worked it was good, and if not then I'd try something else.

First up, I thought about eating whatever came out of my bum. That would be disgusting. Surely? Poking my fingers in, rummaging around, and then eating the results in a way that said that I was getting great pleasure from the act. Putting on noises of delight. Maybe using toilet paper to wipe some up and eating that as well.

However, I'd just cleaned this sort of thing straight from a guy's cock after he'd fucked me anally. That trumped just eating it when alone, at least in my thinking, so I needed more. I didn't need a poo as such right now, just to get the gooey liquid resulting from my earlier escapades out. A full poo I could maybe have smeared all over my torso. Rubbed shit on my boobs and pussy. That would be disgusting, but the small quantity I thought was now wanting out would not amount to much.

I did need a pee though, and thought that this might work out as disgusting if done right. He already had videos of me peeing outdoors in what had been my collection, and was now his. The first time was when I'd been caught short and just decided to let rip while in the woods one day. I was then still at the stage of filming everything, and so just included it.

I'd recorded it happening a couple of times after that, but it didn't mean anything to me in a sexy way. I had just found out that I liked the freedom of peeing outdoors. Everyone does it when they are forced to -- or, if you were a bloke, it seemed like you did it all the time, that it was no big thing in the same way as it was for a woman. I just quite liked the freedom to drop and loose.

Now though, it was clear that just doing it into the toilet pan would not satisfy him. For a man that casually sends people off to get anal sex against their will, watching a girl have a normal pee on a toilet would be far from enough. I needed to spice this up to get close to what he might find acceptable, I and wasn't sure how to do that.

****

What I was trying not to think about were the long-term consequences of that video and the accompanying message being sent. If my mother and sister (who was also my best friend) saw it, then the family was going to split. It had to. Even if I spoke to them and said that my blackmailer had done this, that wasn't going to cut it. I'd have to prove that there was one, and there was nothing so far as evidence that wasn't on my laptop -- and he controlled that.

Dad could protest his innocence all he liked, but if I backed him up then that could be seen as a sign that it was actually true that were lovers, and that I was trying to help him. Maybe being remorseful over sending the email. And if I didn't back him up it could be seen in the same light. I wanted him for myself and so was keeping quiet so that I would get him.

On top of that was my personal situation. He wouldn't just send it to the family. The bastard was sure to send it out -- in batches of 50 to avoid spam controls -- to everyone that I had ever had email contact with. If he was going to burn me, then every indication said that he would go all the way. There seemed to be no mercy in him.

My flatmates, my fellow students, my university lecturers and admin would all get it, along with the rest of my friends and whoever was left. This time it wouldn't be a couple of people getting in contact to say I'd accidentally sent them a slightly embarrassing picture of myself. They would all be thinking I was screwing my dad.

Most of them wouldn't know he was my step-dad (not that that made it any better), and I'd be judged accordingly. If they were also not sent out Bcc then this could get even worse, with a mob soon after me. I was catastrophizing here. Thinking of how bad it could get, and the answer was very.

Already my roommates would be thinking my behaviour was dubious -- at best! If it came out that I was having sex with my dad then they would be sure to want me removed, even the guys who were so far getting no-strings sex. Worse though, was that the university itself might have me thrown out, both from the flat and my course. Bringing the institution into disrepute? That sounded about right.

That would leave me standing kerbside with nowhere to go, and nothing to do when I got there. Three suitcases of luggage, but very little money. The accommodation provided through the university might give me some money back, eventually, but I would have to fight for it. I'd not be able to go home, or even couch surf with friends. No one that knew me was likely to help me out, at least not without dodgy motives of their own.

Which would lead to my being in a cheap hotel somewhere desperately trying to not spend the little money I had. Crap! My bank account was controlled by an app on my phone. I realised that by the time I got to this point in proceedings anything in my accounts would have been transferred out. Maybe not directly to him, as that would be an obvious direct link, but certainly not available to me.

In cash I had about enough for a night somewhere. With no university and no family to fall back on I'd need to quickly get a job, and I knew that would not happen immediately even at my most hopeful. Fast food restaurants were about all I was cut out for at this point in life. I had no work experience and no real skills.

I'd also have no references, and no permanent contact address to give either, once my one night in the cheap hotel was over. Would they take on a girl whose only assets were in the suitcases she would need to carry around everywhere as she had no place to leave them safely? Doubtful. Doubtful at best.

My options were... well, limited. If this scenario came to be then I was screwed. Actually, that seemed to be my only real option, at least for a time. Sex. That was something I could do, and there had always been a demand for it throughout the whole of human history. Wasn't it called the oldest profession or something?

I could base myself at the university and use the bathrooms there to clean myself up, and maybe take boys in if needed. I'd go up to them, groups of men that I didn't know yet, and offer blowjobs, or full sex, for the right payment. Basically, whatever they wanted and could pay for. There were loads of men around, and some of them must want sex with me. I was pretty and would dress appropriately for the situation.

I'd have to keep using the hotel to sleep in at first but, if I could then get enough together to pay the deposit and rent a room in a flat share somewhere, then I could start to apply for jobs and a new bank account that was out of his control. Getting any honest work would be a blessing. Once you had one job then it was supposed to be easier to find the next one. As long as I could pay the bills I'd be happy, and then able to stop the sex work. Two, maybe three, months of that tops, I thought.

And I then stopped my thinking. At this time yesterday, I was a complete virgin. Had the idea of my becoming a sex worker been proposed I'd have been both offended and hysterically amused. Now it seemed a quite likely future if I didn't handle my situation correctly. And that meant coming up with a disgusting idea in the next few minutes to give me time to plan and then carry it out.

****

My plan was a two-part scheme. The first was something that I thought I'd heard of somewhere, but the second was possibly unique to me. I thought that they were both disgusting, gross, and downright weird -- especially part two -- but I knew that I could be putting myself through this for nothing if he didn't approve of my actions.

Sweeping most of the items on top of my bedside table onto my bed -- and then lifting the lamp off more carefully - I carried it to the edge of the bathroom. Placing the laptop on the top I then played around with angles for the camera for both stages, knowing I'd need to adjust halfway through. If I messed this up then I was going to have to produce a stage three, something even worse, and I had no ideas there. Do not mess this up Amy, I was thinking, you can do this!

I was undecided as to whether I should offer commentary while I did this, or stay silent. If I was masturbating I might sometimes call myself a bad girl, a slut, or something similar, depending on where I was, and the likelihood of being overheard. I decided that on this occasion my actions would speak for themselves and to just get on and do it.

After a further moment of indecision, I decided to go back and apply my make-up. He'd wanted that for my visit to David, and if that was the sort of look he liked then I'd give it to him. At this point, I'd give him anything he wanted, and if this made him even one per cent happier about what I was doing then I'd take that.

Sitting, and then lying down, on the bottom of the shower section was easy. It was cramped, but that was what I was wanting. My legs got raised into the air and I kept pushing them up the wall, eventually putting my elbows under me to give as much support as I could. Head and shoulders on the base unit, most of the rest of me resting up against the wall with my hands on my hips holding me steady.

This was now the time for me to try and relax myself a little bit and start with what I thought would be disgusting, and hoped that he would as well. I'd drunk the remains of a cup of tea, and a glass of water, from my table as final preparations. Drinking more when you already needed to get rid of the last lot always felt like it was adding pressure to the bladder, even though you logically knew that this new liquid would take some time to arrive there.

My cunning plan was to pee, but not just to film myself doing so on the toilet, or even outside in nature. Nope, I was going to do it on myself and even then go the whole hog. Not just on legs, or hands, the normal bits of your body that could interrupt your stream. I was going to cover myself as far as I could.

This was going to be disgusting. No getting away from that. But having just recently swallowed, and cleaned, a cock covered in soapy poo and cum, this wasn't even the worst thing that I'd done today! I was feeling both sick and nervous about this now. The task was ahead, and the reasons for it could go on the back burner for a few minutes.

I'd never come up with an acceptable (to me) term for my pee-hole. Guys pee from their cock, but girls pee from their urethra. Hardly comparable. I was too tense to go now though. The awkward position up the wall, and the knowledge of where it was going to end up, were inhibiting me. The bladder being upside-down couldn't help either.

Having done a bit of gymnastics in the past came in useful now, as I was able to release an arm from underneath me, keep my balance, and then massage my privates to try and stimulate the area and get things going. I turned my head and smiled for the camera as I did, trying to tell my audience that this was fun. That this was a good thing. That this was normal for me. Let's enjoy it together.

The first spurt hit the wall behind me and above my head with much of it bouncing off the plastic and then down onto my head. Onto my face. I didn't realise this immediately and hadn't planned for it, but what then dripped down from the walls joined what had already got to the bottom of the shower tray and this all soaked into my hair. This was all disgusting, so I kept on smiling.

That burst had been cut off prematurely, as I'd clenched up as it hit me. As the pressure fell, the stream ran down the wall, across my ear, my shoulder, my torso, and then dribbled downwards from my pussy to trickle down my torso from the top. I just hoped that the camera was picking this up properly.

In an ideal world -- although an ideal one would not have this sort of thing happening -- there would be a decent, real, camera shooting this, rather than a laptop's lens. Good as it might be, for what it was, it was unlikely to be able to get the whole effect of this in clearly. A human operator would also be able to focus on just my face, or the jet of urine coming out, whereas this was just a single overall image. What the hell was I thinking! A person filming me doing this would be simply awful!

The next time I was able to relax enough to hold a steady flow. Again it hit the wall over my head, but now that I expected the splashback I was prepared for it, and able to keep well enough relaxed to pee for a sustained period. It was only as I moved my head slightly to get my face further under it that I lost control again.

On the third attempt, I was finally able to get it perfectly over my face and into my mouth. Disgusting. Surely that was disgusting! When this was done, I almost was as well. All the rest of my bladder's contents barely reached my boobs before running out of steam and becoming a heavy dribble, then a slow one before quitting altogether.

I tried to gracefully right myself, letting my legs gently down, and probably just about managed it. I was being very careful as I was keeping my filled mouth open to the camera the whole time. I wanted him to see this. I wanted bonus points for this, or at least to prove the lengths that I was willing to go to to please him.

Using my tongue I pushed some of the contents -- my piss -- out of my mouth and down my chin. Then, tipping up my head in an exaggerated motion, I swallowed what was in there, before smiling back at the camera. My hair was plastered by piss to the side of my head, and still I smiled for him as I swallowed my pee.

Step one completed, I got myself fully upright and stood. I knew that my head was out of the camera's range now and so ran my tongue around my gums. As I'd been getting ready to do this, I had taken toothpaste and put generous quantities in my mouth, knowing that he would never be able to tell from his vantage point.

I'd barely tasted what had gone inside my mouth as I'd been lying there, and what I'd then swallowed. The strong peppermint from the paste had overridden what had come through, and I was now able to dismiss the remainder on my tongue by licking around and further releasing the mint. It wasn't like it was a big thing, but it was the first time I'd gotten away with something since this had started and I was pretty bloody pleased with myself!

I was therefore in a bizarrely good mood as I stood the laptop on its side and wedged a book of post-it notes underneath to angle it slightly more downwards. My body was sore in one very sensitive area from what had been happening earlier this morning, and my mind was still awhirl and unsettled from what was going on, but a minor victory had lifted my spirits.

That first thing had been something I was aware of people doing from seeing things online and general gossip. Not that I'd ever looked at any of the videos, but people peeing on themselves was apparently a 'thing' that some did. It was meant to cure jellyfish stings and that was the only time I'd ever expected to try it. This next bit though, I thought this was all my own.

"My hair is soaked with my piss," I said to the lens. I ran my hands through the worst clump, deliberately squeezing more of it down the front of my body. "I'd better wash it before I meet anyone. I'd sure get weird responses if I didn't!" I hoped that he'd not get any thoughts of making that a reality in the future!

Bending over the toilet, sideways on so that the camera got a good view, I let my hair lead the way into the bowl and all the way into the water at the bottom before giving a squeeze of the shampoo bottle to let a large dollop hit the surface as well.

Moving around so that my backside was pretty much blocking the view -- and incidentally probably giving him, and any future viewers, one hell of a close-up of what until very recently I'd thought of as my most private area -- I put my hands and elbows onto the rim of the bowl and carefully flipped upwards with my legs, making sure I didn't kick the bedside table.

A handstand with my head resting in the base of the toilet bowl, partially underwater, and my legs up against the wall. I bet no one had ever done anything as downright weird as this, and this had to count as disgusting. Right? It was about to get worse though, as I cautiously lifted one arm and hit the flush mechanism, causing a cascade of water.

I'd tried to keep my eyes open while this was happening, and to look at the laptop, but that was soon impossible. While the torrent came down the sides of the bowl, as I'd expected, and not squirting all over the place and onto my face, what it didn't do was disappear around the u-bend in the traditional manner.