Black Mail Merri

Making sure she wasn't followed, was part of the game. It wasn't like anyone knows, or if anyone did that they would even care, but Merri casually looked over her shoulder for the 7th time. Making sure she was not followed to the Library. The morning crowd of the quad didn't change. No one leaping behind light poles, or diving into trashcans to avoid direction. The humiliation that would destroy her if anyone knew what she had done, or what she was doing now. She laughed nervously. It was laugh or turn around and chicken out. If she chickened out she would run. And if she ran she would drop her gift. Nothing could be worse than if she broke it. Merri turned back and swallowed hard. Walking with renewed purpose, she never looked back.

Merri steps inside the library. She sucks in a short breath in through her teeth. The pervy janitor who control's the library's air conditioner keeps it set at just above "meat locker". Everyone knows this. Merri feels her confidence melt against the warm shame blossoming in her cheeks. She isn't wearing a bra. Her pale nipples begin to perk up. Then stiffening to the point of aching. They cut through the thin cotton of her shirt.

The Library isn't busy yet, but when she leaves the boys will be outside waiting. They know the edge of "acceptable behavior" and stay just inside. When it's time to leave she will feign confidence, and pretend to ignore them. Behind her sunglasses Merri will soak in their drooling stares. Headphones in and her iPod off, the boys won't know she's listening. They don't know. They could never know. How she burned with what they said, and how they laughed. How could she ever step foot on campus again if they knew they were what finally pushed her over the edge when her fingers go exploring tonight. This too was part of the game.

Merri walks all the way across the building to the covered walk out to the East Wing. The East Wing was her school kept the entire computer coding wing. The elevator seemed older than the building itself, it that was possible. The numbers descended to the lobby. Merri closes her eyes and squeezes her thighs together even tighter with a fresh wave of humiliation. This is it. If she could walk away If she would chicken out, no, if she could walk away. If she could just walk chicken out away.

If she could take one step chicken away from the door fucking pussy before the door opens. Get out now before that fucking bell can.

Ring.

Pavlov's niece exhales in a shudder, her eyes still closed she takes a weak step forward and on to someone else's shoe. Merri's foot slides off a work boot. She reaches out and is caught by a pair of strong rough hands. Merri's eyes finally open, and it's Him looking back at her.

He is older. He was not one of the boys she was used to seeing here. She liked the "geeks". Intelligence was a huge turn on to her. None of the mouth breathers waiting for her walk of shame below would have ever been found on this side of the building.

He is strong. Not at all like the keyboard cowboys. If they weren't overweight a steady diet of Starbucks and Adderall left them perpetual adolescents. He was a man, when he grabbed her she was safe from falling. When was the last time she felt that save and so afraid. In His grip, she would later confess to herself, she could do nothing without His permission.

He sees me. When the boys did look, no, when the boys stared, or worse followed it raised the stakes, but at times had ruined the game. Then during Finals, when they sat inches away from the screen meticulous search for bugs in their lines of code, Merri walked a little slower. Bounced a little harder. Her skirt swayed a little higher. The boys, her coders, she never knew what she wanted from them. She wanted Him to look at her. She whimpered inwardly thinking of what she wanted Him to watch.

"Miss." He gives me that Merri that polite smile we save for strangers moves her callously out of his way and walks by as though He felt nothing. He felt nothing, and He walked away. The humiliation and abandonment were not apart of the game.

Defeated Merri stepped into the elevator and stared at the floor. Merri thought about Him all 5 floors. He had to work around school, somewhere. She had casually asked her girlfriends if they had seen him. While a few had none knew anything more about him than "intensity". Until now it had always been the mark of a good day to see Him. Even if it was only across he quad. Knowing He was out there, somewhere, was satisfying.

Finally in the lab, Merri's thought of nothing but delivering her gift. She held it more consciously now than ever before. She was past the point of no return. Far past caring whether or not the boys were watching her or not. Anyone could have followed, or not.

In the furthest corner of the Lab was an old HP desktop no one else bothered to use. Nearly every time Merri had to plug and unplug both the computer and the monitor before it finally kicked to life. One day the computer give up the ghost it was a chilling thought.

The harddrive coughed, whined, sputtered, and finally spun to life. It was at least booting up. It wasn't until the desktop popped up on the old CRT monitor, a cartoon profile her school's mascot, could Merri finally begin to finish her task. She navigated through a network of files within files. Another part of the "game" to run the labyrinth. It hadn't been here last week or the week before – a two week lesson of patience and diligence. Had she the file been there, and she had not looked…

Merri froze in place.

Homework_11.txt.

Humility, outrage, weakness and desire fought for control inside Merri. After three deep concentrating breaths, Merri sent the file to be printed. Not opening the file before printing is part of the game. She had miss understood the rules once, and failed to complete an assignment on time. Failure was no longer an option.

Merri was to remain at the computer and not get up to retrieve her assignment until it had completely finished printing. Dot Matrix printer. This part of the game was always the hardest. Someone would eventually come. Someone would see what she was printing. Someone could pick it up and know what she let herself be subjected to.

When it finally finished. Merri properly, quietly, pushed away from the desk. Mindful of her posture she walked to the printer tore it free from machine and returned to her seat. With three deep breaths, she was finally ready to finish playing the game.

---

Sharon,

What a good girl you've been. How long can you keep up the charade? You've been carrying my gift around with you. But I'm the only one who knows. I can see it. I can see it in the way you walk. Stairs seem….more interesting to you now. I'm still watching you. Im always watching you. I was behind you on the bus Tuesday. You were on Reddit, posting something in a masturbation sub. You almost caught me looking but I'm too smart for you.

I never got to see what you wrote and the mystery is just too delicious. Maybe you were wondering if it's ok to constantly masturbate in public. That you wear remote control panties, and you can't help yourself from going to the park, not to jog, not this time. You find a nice shady tree, bring up your kindle, set your panties on low while you read some filthy stories and admire the flesh parade that jogs past you.

Or do you jog with them, following a tight ass bouncing along the trail in front of you until you have to take a knee and ride out another orgasm, wondering if you'll finally be caught. Because we both know you want to be caught. Caught and punished for your inability to control yourself in public.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/288yos/black_mail_merri