Cheating and consequences

Amber's fingers danced over her clit, her breath quickening as she stared at the photo on her phone. The image was a the same shot of raw intimacy, capturing her and Dele in the throes of passion. Her face was partially obscured by her tangled red hair, sweat-slicked cheeks and forehead. Her green eyes were half-lidded with a mix of exhaustion and lingering pleasure, her lips parted in a soft moan. Dale’s body loomed over hers, his dark silhouette contrasting sharply with the pale skin of her back.

Amber bit her lip, her fingers moving faster as she imagined Dele’s thick cock pounding into her again. She could almost feel the heat of his body, the way his hands gripped her hips, the rough texture of his tattoos against her skin. She closed her eyes, picturing his deep voice whispering dirty things in her ear, making her shiver with anticipation.

Amber’s breath hitched as she zoomed in on the photo, her fingers tracing the outline of Dele’s hand on her hip. The bruises were a testament to his urgency, and the way his cock had filled her made her core throb with need. She loved how he took control, how he made her feel utterly consumed by him. The image was a reminder of their raw, unfiltered passion, and it fueled her desire even more.

Her eyes flicked to the clock on her bedside table, and her heart skipped a beat. She cursed under her breath—she was late for her test. Panic set in as she realized how little she had studied. The last few days had been a whirlwind of emotions and physical exhaustion, leaving her with barely any time to prepare. But she had a plan. She had spent hours making cheat sheets, carefully folding them into tiny squares and hiding them in strategic places: inside her bra, tucked into her wrist sleeves, even sewn into the lining of her pants. All she needed to do was keep an eye on the tutor and she could pull off the perfect cheat.

Quickly, she dressed in a long-sleeved top that hugged her curves and showed just enough cleavage to distract. She paired it with tight jeans that would help conceal the cheat sheets. Her choker necklace was a necessity, hiding the bruise on her neck from Dele’s passionate grip. She grabbed her bag and ran out the door, her mind racing with both anticipation and anxiety.

Amber sprinted through the campus, her heart pounding in sync with her footsteps. She reached the testing center just as the proctor was closing the doors. Panting, she flashed her ID and took a seat at the back of the room, her mind still reeling from the rush.

The test began, and Amber’s eyes darted between the questions and the tutor, who paced the aisles with hawk-eyed vigilance. She managed to discreetly unfold one of her cheat sheets and glance at it under the cover of her long hair. Her plan seemed to be working—until fatigue set in. The lack of sleep and the adrenaline crash left her feeling drowsy, her eyelids heavy. She shook her head, trying to stay focused, but the words on the paper blurred together.

Finally, the test ended, and Amber handed in her paper with a sigh of relief. She stumbled out of the testing center and found a bench nearby, collapsing onto it with exhaustion. As she sat there, catching her breath, her phone buzzed in her pocket. A message from an unknown number had arrived.

Curious, she opened it, and her blood ran cold. The picture was a close-up of her during the test, her hand partially obscured by her hair, but the cheat sheet clearly visible. Her face was a mix of panic and concentration, her lips slightly parted as she read the notes. The photo captured the moment perfectly, leaving no doubt about what she had been doing.

Amber’s hands trembled as she stared at the image. Who could have taken this? And why send it to her now? Fear gripped her, mingling with the lingering drowsiness. She felt exposed, ****, as if every secret she had tried to keep was now laid bare for someone else to see.

Amber’s heart pounded as she read the message, her mind racing. The sender wanted her to meet under the stadium benches. She hesitated, but the threat of exposure pushed her to act. With a deep breath, she made her way there, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

When she arrived, she found a skinny freshman waiting for her. He looked about 18, with pimples dotting his face and a very nerdy look about him. His glasses were thick, and he wore an oversized hoodie that seemed to swallow him whole. He introduced himself as Oswald, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to sound authoritative.

“What do you want?” Amber demanded, her eyes narrowing.

Oswald attempted to puff out his chest, but it only made him look more ridiculous. “You’re dancing my song from now on,” he said, his tone sleazy and crude. “I own you, and I can ruin your life with this.” He waved his phone, displaying the incriminating photo.

Amber crossed her arms, confronting him with defiance. “You don’t have anything too incriminating.”

Oswald smirked, clearly enjoying the power he thought he held. “Oh, really? I’m going to show it to the campus rector, and you’ll be expelled. You need to come to my place or pay the consequences.”

Amber stared at him, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. She didn’t believe his threats, but she was too tired to argue. “Whatever,” she muttered. “Send the address over message, okay? I’m off to sleep.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, leaving Oswald with his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

Amber dragged herself back to her dorm room, the weight of exhaustion pulling her down. She collapsed onto her bed, the soft mattress cradling her tired body. Her mind buzzed with thoughts, but she **** herself to close her eyes, hoping sleep would bring some clarity.

When she woke up, the room was bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight. Amber lay there for a moment, letting the events of the day replay in her mind. The test, the panic, the encounter with Oswald—it all felt like a bad dream. But the message on her phone was real, and so was the photo.

She sat up slowly, running a hand through her tangled hair. The picture of her looking at a cheat sheet meant nothing, really. It was impossible to know what the test was about, when it was taken, or if it was even on campus. And even if it was, the rector had more important things to worry about than who might be cheating on a test.

Amber’s lips curled into a small, defiant smile. Oswald thought he had power over her, but he was just a scared little boy playing at being a big man. She could handle him. She had faced worse, after all.

With a sigh, she stretched out on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The bruises on her hips from Dele’s grip were still tender, a reminder of the passion they shared. She touched them lightly, feeling a pang of longing. She missed him, missed the way he made her feel alive, consumed by desire.

But right now, she needed to focus on herself. Oswald’s threats were empty, and she knew it. She just needed to stay calm, stay smart. She would figure this out, just like she always did.

Amber closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the sun soothe her. She would deal with Oswald later. For now, she just needed a little more rest, a little more time to gather her strength.

Amber's thoughts drifted back to Oswald, and a strange sensation stirred within her. The idea of being at someone's mercy, even if it was that of a pathetic little boy, sent a shiver down her spine. She imagined the power dynamics shifting, the thrill of being asked to do degrading things to stay in his good graces. Her nipples hardened under her tank top, and she felt a familiar ache between her legs.

She reached down, her fingers brushing against her clit, teasing herself as she thought about what could happen. The orgasm that had eluded her earlier began to build again, but just as she was on the edge, her phone buzzed. Amber sighed, frustration mingling with arousal. She glanced at the screen and saw another message from the junior blackmailer.

"This is going to be hot," she muttered to herself, though the excitement was tempered by the knowledge that Oswald was far from the kind of man who could truly dominate her. He was just a kid playing at something he didn't understand. Still, the idea of turning the tables on him, of showing him just how out of his depth he was, had its own appeal.

She opened the message and read the address he had sent. It was a small apartment off-campus, nothing too fancy. Amber smirked. This was going to be easier than she thought. She decided right then that she would go to him, not because she was afraid of his threats, but because she wanted to teach him a lesson. He had bitten off more than he could chew, and she was going to make sure he regretted it.

Amber pulled herself up from the bed and dressed quickly, selecting an outfit that would make her feel powerful—a tight black dress with ample cleavage, elegantly hugging her curves and secured by delicate shoulder straps. She applied bold red lipstick, adding a touch of defiance to her look.

As she stepped out of her dorm room, she felt a surge of confidence. Oswald might think he had the upper hand, but he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Amber was ready to show him just how wrong he was.