[interesting]

And so begins the second chapter in the Bundle of Trials... I hope you enjoy.
============================================

Blackmail. Such an ugly word. It's Scottish, you know. It's not black and it's not mail. The original word is actually 'mal', which meant agreement or speech. It was penned in the 16th century and it represented a tribute, or rent, that was paid to a Scottish chief for protection. You pay us, we protect you, from everyone, even ourselves. Extortion. It wasn't even a legal term until 1968. They called it black rent before that. Such a nast word. A bad word.

As bad as the cock that's currently ramming my cunt.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Name's Prissy. Maybe you heard of me. Princess, but I like Prissy. I don't let anyone except a few people - my lovers, generally, call me Princess. My dad's idea. To call me that, not to only get lovers to call me that. Wonder what he'd think, seeing me on all fours, hands tied to the bed post, clamps on my nipples, while a man pounds tirelessly into me to get some personal satisfaction.

But let's go back a little bit, to a few days before I became a whore. No, the word is wrong. Besides, I'm not getting paid. And for the record, this isn't rape. I'm being blackmailed, but I'm not being coerced into sex. I know. It sounds confusing. But I would never let him do this to me if I didn't want it in the first place. But it is still nasty, as is the man doing it.

Okay. Enough about the sex for now. Seriously.

As with all my crazy stories, this one started with a party to which I was NOT invited. Emphasis on the negative, not that it's ever stopped me before. A pretty girl can get in pretty much anywhere. See what I did there? Pretty girl, pretty much. And I am very much. I know it, and there's no point not flaunting it.

I have this friend, Marq. Marquis. Best friend. Fuck friend, sometimes. Not often. Sometimes, when I need a dick inside me and I can't find anyone else, I call on him. He's good with that. He's also good with finding things to do on boring evenings. Like finding out that a fraternity on campus is holding an open kegger. There'll be booze, music, hot guys, hotter girls. Because I'm into girls too. I dated this model a few weeks back, who was introduced to me during sex games. We had a blast, truly, and I cared for her a lot, but before we could really get serious, she went and did some real porn. Well, real... we got her on camera sticking a dildo in her pussy and ass, for the whole virtual world to see. Somehow, that didn't sit with me. Don't ask me why, although I'm not the one who broke it off. She asked what I thought of it, I told her I would never fuck on camera and I didn't like that she did; a day or so later, she said we weren't good together, even after all the good times we'd shared (like that threesome with that Jim fellow or that hot date where we were first introduced by Cassie and Claire).

I'm ranting again. Story. But details are fun. Anyway.

The fraternity was nothing special except that the semester was about to start. It was a Thursday, and our first classes were the next week, starting Monday, so it was a last big score. Now, I don't study at university, because I already completed college. I work as a temp for an agency, and I meet all sorts of gorgeous people. So to me, it was like any other day (and I worked on that Friday, not that I cared). But to them, it's the end of the world. So they party hard. Hard liquor, hard dancing, hard drugs (not that I'm into that shit, but some are, and I saw my share that night). To be fair, I got there at eight and I was pretty hammered by nine, with my wingman Marq by my side. I was dancing in the living room most of the time with the other girls there, being objectified by the male population checking in on us. I don't mind it much, to be honest, as long as their hands stay where they need to be (it can be on me, if I so desire, but it's my call). Now, nobody knew who I was, so Marq introduced me as his cousin. It was funny that way. He's studying computer sciences, not that it matters here. In order to keep my buzz going, I kept the alcohol flowing at a steady pace, my wingman looking out for me all the while. He was doing such a great job at it I figured I would blow some steam by blowing him off (in the sexual sense of the word), but my mind was too gone in the rhythm to act on it.

It gets to be around 10:30 before I notice that my wingman is no longer at his seat. I mind, because he's supposed to have my back. So I head away from the dance floor like a woman on a mission, and Lord! help anyone who gets in my way. I make my way through the halls of the building and, in my half-inebriated state, I attempt to figure out what happened to him. So of course, I start coming up with only the logical explanations : he's been kidnapped and is being held for ransom; or perhaps his hidden criminal past has caught up with him; maybe he's been hired by the government to track down a rogue satellite in orbit.

He's not in the other living room. He's not in the kitchen. He's not in the dining hall. There's a lot of people here. Pretty people. I end up face kissing a few of the girls as I make my way through the house. I love the effect it has on people. I get offered a drink which I gulp down, then trade saliva with the guy who offered it. I've lost count of how many lips I've touched since the beginning of the evening - not that I usually care about these things.

Marq is not on the first floor, so I head up the stairs, tumbling my way past the people huddled in the path before me. I almost fall on my face as I reach the top. I feel hands grabbing my ass - no, they're helping me up - no, they're doing both. I turn around. The jock giggles. I slap him. He laughs. I laugh too.

I make my way to the first door on the right, and I open it. No one. I head over the next, supporting myself against the wall. That last drink really hit me hard. I didn't pace myself like the others, and I was already pretty far gone, I think. I open the next door and walk in on a dream-come-true! Nudity, yes! Win!

There she is, in all her glory, being pounded hard while she sucks on a cock. Two jocks and a babe. I'm instantly turned on, and their eyes turn towards mine. And I sense their gaze peering into my soul. I need to get out or I'll be sucked into the vortex. But it's already too late. I spend the next hour being ravaged by two very energetic studs and one very vocal cheerleader (I don't actually know she's one, but she certainly feels like it). They take turns on me, then double team me. There's so much pleasure in their bodies as I get fondled every which way imaginable. It's all a blur of bodies and flesh, and I absolutely adore every moment of it. At some point, I'm not even sure how many people there are in the room. Did other partners come in, or are my three partners just smothering me?

I wake up a little later, naked, in the same bed... My head aches, and I'm fairly certain I've got bite marks all over my body. My hand wanders across the sheets and I grope a breast. My female partner in pleasure is also there, as buck naked as I am. The daze is still there, but I'm conscious enough to touch between my legs and felt the dampness and warmth. Not the way I thought this party would go. Where's Marq? Not that I regret it - it was a heck of a ride - but I hadn't planned it like that, and now, I'm going to be wondering all week about the identity of my partners. Well, at least, I can ask the gorgeous girl resting beside me. It seems like the party's still going on, so I must not have been out for so long.

As I pull the sheets off of me, I notice something odd on my skin. My belly. My arms. My legs. Words written in marker, maybe. Slut. Cum-depot. Whore. Bitch. Lady Sucks-A-Lot. That one's actually funny. I check the girl beside me. She is equally written on. Swell. Looks like people had fun with us while we were out. I place my hand on her warm shoulder, my head still in a daze. She barely stirs. She's lying on her front, so I can't really see her face. I try to twist her around; eventually, she rolls over, wrapping one arm around me. I indulge in the sensation for a moment, then observe the contours of her face. Gorgeous lips which I end up kissing. A funny-looking nose. Nice cheekbones. Warm features. She stirs from my kisses.

"Another minute..."
"Hey... Hi."

She barely opens her eyes, looks at me and appears extremely confused. For a moment, I see her mind trying to understand why she's naked in a bed with another girl, until I see the spot of realization.

"Hey..." she whimpers.
"Had fun?"
"uh-huh."
"Name's Prissy. You?"
"I'm... Nancy... Hi."

I kiss her again, then caress her short brown hair.

"Some romp, eh?" I say.

She barely acknowledges me before she lapses back into slumber. At least, I have her name now. I'm still dazed, but I don't want to sleep anymore here. I slap my cheeks a few times, then roll out of bed. I wish I could get to know her more - she's certainly a wonderful person - but I need my clothes. Where are they? I find a sock. I had a green blouse... or was it blue? No green. It's not here. None of my clothes are there. Great. I get the fuck of a lifetime and the prank of a lifetime all-in-one. Well, I certainly don't mind walking out naked, but I don't have to. I put on my one sock and grab the top sheet from the bed, and drape it around my body. Toga. It covers all the curse words on my body except for my arms. We are in a frat house, after all. There's no clock on the wall, and I don't have my watch. Or my purse. Stealing my clothes : funny. Stealing my cards : crime. I'm going to kill someone.

I walk out of the room and into a crowded hallway. I hear a scream.

"Toga!"

The rest of the crowd cheers on as they spot me. I smile coyly at them, then call out. Speaking loud makes my head hurt, but I'm pissed.

"Funny... so, anyway, someone stole my fucking purse... with my keys to my home and my ID... and if you don't want the fucking cops to come to this fucking party and raid your fucking asses, you will fucking tell me where the fuck my fucking purse and stuff is..."

Everyone is taken aback by my aggresive words. One boy - he looks like he`s barely fifteen, clearly not legal for the place - answers for the group.

"uh... some guy took it..."
"Guy I was with?"

No one's stupid here. They know I was getting fucked hard in the other room.

"No... those guys are downstairs..."
"Then who the fuck took my stuff?"

There's a long pause as everyone (or most everyone) seems to actually consider my question, but nobody seems to know. I sigh and start heading back downstairs. Nancy won't know. Some of the people start telling me they'll ask around, but I feel like an idiot, sleeping after sex like that, in a weird place, making myself vulnerable. It was hotter than hot, but now I'm paying the price for that awesome fuck. When I reach the main floor, I get a few toga calls but I ignore them. I look around the room, hoping to see Marq, but I don't. He's not there, and I'm in a toga, all fucked out, and I feel like shit. I should feel good about the sex, but the prank just made it icky.

As I head towards the living room, I see one of the guys - the black one with the curly hair - whom I was with in the room, chatting away with some chick. I get mad as I walk towards him. He spots me, and his smile dies as my eyes plunge daggers into his soul.

"Well, here's the fucker," I greet him.
"Hey... hi..."
"Yeah, so can I ask you something?"

The girl he's with is eyeing me like I'm her worst enemy, but I don't give a shit at that point.

"Yeah... sure..."
"So after you fucked me good upstairs, you and your boytoy..."
"My what?..."

The girl seems shocked, and I figure she might be his girlfriend, and he might have done it behind her back, but again, I don't care.

"Yeah, you and the other guy who fucked me and Nancy... you left us alone in that room after you were done..."
"Well, uh..."
"Yeah, we fell asleep. Still, someone stole my clothes and my purse..."

The girl punches him in the shoulder.

"Wayne? Did you fuck her?"
"Lady, take a number," I reply.
"Shut up, whore!" she replies.

I punch her in the face and she collapses, stunned. I don't break anything with my punch, but the party freezes. I stare at this Wayne character as I continue my interrogation.

"I don't care about the fuck, and it was great, but I need my fucking stuff."
"Look, lady..."
"It's Prissy. Know who you're fucking with when you fuck..."
"Yeah, well, I mean Prissy... it was still there when I... left the room."

He's fessing up in front of his girlfiend. He must really be intimidated.

"And the other dick?" I ask.
"He didn't take it... Me and Paulo left at the same time..."
"And you didn't see anyone else coming in? No one entered while we were fucking?"
"uh..."

He seems to be trying really hard, and I wish I could go easy on him, but I don't want to. All this has made me mad, and when I catch up to Marq, he'll get what's coming too.

"Well, some guy in a leather jacket walked in - like you did..."
"Describe him."
"I don't know... short hair, weird nose..."
"And then he left."
"Yeah... he said he'd come back."
"Ah fuck!"

I walk away. I want to punch everyone. I make my way towards the exit, and no one get in my way. I must look like a mess. Not the best way to make friends. No purse means no money, no home keys, no way to get inside my apartment, no phone to call a cab or a friend, and I don't know anyone's number except my mom, and I'm not calling her. Not like this. I'd rather get arrested by the police.

I walk on the lawn for a moment and I stop. I start crying. I don't cry usually, but I'm still dazed from the drinking, upset and angry, and my emotions are out of control. A girl actually comes over to check on me, and I tell her everything, how I'm just a whore and how I can't do anything right - you know, the usual. She stays with me for a while, giving me a big hug. I thank her and let her get back to the party. She did her civic duty.

Walking home it is. This is San Francisco. Walking home in a toga is no big deal. It will be a long walk, though. Two hours at least, in the middle of the night, naked under the sheets. with just one sock. Yeah. Best plan ever.

I'm barely past the gate when I see a sports car pull up in front of me. I stare at the vehicle (a convertible), then at the driver.

"Hey..." he says in a raspy voice. "Get in."
"Why?" I ask.
"I'll drive you home. Heading out, anyway."

I don't know this man. You don't take candy from strangers. Then again, you don't get fucked by random strangers at a party either. I'm disobeying all the rules today.

"Why would you drive me home?"
"Because you're in a toga..."

I don't even have the energy to argue, but I`m not riding with him.

"Bite me."

I start to walk away, but he pulls his car up alongside.

"I'll give you back your stuff..."

I freeze, and my head slowly tilts towards him.

"You have my stuff..."

My voice is ice, and I can sense he feels it.

"I'm not messing with you about that... but I couldn't resist."

He has a crooked nose.

"So... you walk in, finding a foursome going on, leave and then come back, and steal my clothes?"
"And the other girl's... but you came out first."
"Why?"
"Just get in the car and I'll tell you, and give you back your stuff..."

This is a bad idea, I tell myself. You'll end up getting raped, or kidnapped, or some other nonsense we see in Hollywood movies.

"Fine," I answer.

He unlocks and opens the passenger door and, with nothing but a sheet to cover my nudity, I sit down beside him. If you're gonna be stupid, might as well be stupid all the way.