[Fiction] The Decline

[Officelover]

Will slept there that night. Not cuddling with her, not in drunk heaven or even in hangover hell with her in bed. But on the floor at the foot of her bed, despite being naked and in pain from his recent rectal realignment, Will Tugley found himself strangely horny.

When he was sure Jule was asleep, he got up and looked at her sleeping. She snored, softly but audibly, like a true feminist would, as she slept on her back, and though she was under paisley sheets, Will knew that she was naked. She had fallen asleep early, right after she fucked him she seemed exhausted, and hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes before turning in. Will wondered for a moment why she trusted him—leaving him in her room while she slept. He knew that, as much as he fantasized about revenge or winding his way out of the trap, there was nothing he could do, and if he got caught trying, his life would be over.

My life is already over, he thought. Will slowly, silently turned and fished his phone out of his jacket pocket. He crept up to the bed. He knew it was going to be tricky work. Will worked the corner of the sheet off—he was happy it was one-sheet weather now. It was slow work, and it came as a great relief to him when he exposed the first heaving breast.

Her snoring was stable; Will decided to switch sides and work the other corner off. This side was loosely tucked into the bed, and he pulled it out quick, not really thinking about how he would replace it. He winced, and decided he wouldn’t try to push it back in later. It would be too compromising, and besides, she would probably think nothing of it. Soon enough, the whole sheet was pulled down below her waist, and standing at the foot of the bed, Will had a front row seat to her breasts. He wanted to get her pretty little pussy too, but decided not to be greedy.

He took out his phone, got to his camera, and took a picture. Flash. He muffled it with his hand within a fraction of a second, and whipped around, attempting to block out the light. Stupid, stupid. He turned around. No noise, except the snoring.

He turned off the flash, snapped some dark pictures (he would change the brightness later) and placed his phone on the ground. He didn’t want to tempt fate, he just wanted to cover her up. He knew it would be harder to put the cloth on her than to take it off. He worked it up, unrolling it inch by inch, rather than letting it sink to her in large sections.

He picked up his phone, lay back down at the foot of her bed, and masturbated, knowing he had some power over her now.

That morning, he woke up with foot in his face. In his mouth. He tried opening his eyes, but failed. “Good morning, fuckboy.” Release. Jule towered over him, no longer naked. “I’ve got to go to class in half an hour, so you better eat quick.” She indicated a bowl of hot cereal two yards away. “Why don’t you crawl over there and eat it?” She said, giving his cock a little tug.

He slumped up and started to get up. Jule knocked him down with her feet. “I said crawl. What do you say?”

“Sorry, miss.”

Will crawled over to the bowl, and knew there was no way he would get this bowl off the ground. He picked a little up in his hands, and, “Uh-uh. You should know better, use your mouth only.” He slowly lowered his head into the bowl, careful to get his nose into the mixture. Apparently, it wasn’t fast enough for Jule because she smashed his face into the bowl and laughed about not having all day.

“Well, this was fun, slave, you should come over again some night and make yourself useful. I’ve got to head out, but before we go, I’d like to see your phone.”

Will nervously handed over his smartphone, wondering if she knew. She spent a while, obviously switching between apps. “Vicky Tugley. Ugly name. Sister or cousin?”

“My sister, Miss.”

“Kali tells me you gave her your sister’s information. It’d be a fucking shame if we had to send her something disgusting. Is she older or younger? How old is she?”

“She’s seventeen.”

“So young. Junior or senior.”

“Junior.”

“What are all these black pictures?” She showed him the pictures he had presumably taken last night.

“Those are just pictures I tried to take last night.”

“Last night?”

“Before I got here, miss. Of the sky. Full of stars, but it looks black on camera.”
She looked at a few things more, and handed him back his phone. “I was looking to see if you were writing anything about me,” she said, “you know, Will, I like you more than I let on.”

She kissed him on the forehead, and they left.

Later that day, in the back of sociology class, after Will looked around and made sure no one was looking at him, he took out his phone and opened Instagram and artificially raised the brightness, trying his best to enhance them into recognition. Finally, after messing around with the photos’ properties, he got a couple of photos of her face and breasts. A little blurry, maybe, but recognizably her.

Leverage, he thought.

[Rascal.]

Good story keep up the good work!!