50: Karma's a Bitch - II

Mark’s eyes fluttered open in the dimly lit classroom, his body sluggish and sore.

His mind was still foggy, struggling to piece together the events that had led to this moment.

Vanessa showed up, took a picture of him and left after freeing him from the bondage and sex toys.

The wild dream he thought he had was over... 'So why am I still here?..'

The small bag at his feet was soaked, its contents ruined. When Mark fumbled it open, he found his old clothes drenched and unwearable. Worse, his phone and the bottle of chloroform he had brought along were missing.

'It's over... Everything's over now...'

He removed the torn panties and bra, throwing them into the bag with the sex toys. His trembling hands found his blouse, and he buttoned it up nervously, not even realizing the buttons were misaligned. His nipples, still stiff from the suction cups, poked through the thin fabric.

Groggily, Mark stood up. The rows of desks and chairs were bathed in the faint orange glow of a sunset that had already disappeared below the horizon. He glanced around, half-expecting someone to burst in and catch him, but the room was silent.

'Vanessa...' He couldn't still believe it.
Even though everything between them shattered on that night, he had genuinely loved her. When Agatha, Kate and the rest of his family stopped caring, it was only her on his side. He wanted to make up with her. But his pride didn't allow him to apologise.

Never did he think, it would all come to this.

'Once she posts that photo, it will all be over...' Tears started forming in his eyes. He couldn't help but think about the past few weeks he endured, all for it to end so suddenly. And right after he finally got his mom to look at him again

'She would leave me again now...' Mark chuckled wiping the tears off.

He shook his head, the motion weak and unconvincing. 'What should I do...?'

He shuffled out of the building, careful to avoid any lingering students or security guards.

The campus was eerily quiet as Mark slipped past the gates, the chill of the evening air biting at his skin. The city streets stretched out before him, illuminated by flickering streetlights and the neon glow of shop signs. He walked aimlessly, his legs heavy, his mind still hazy.

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision. The events played on a loop in his head, each memory of Vanessa sharper and crueller than the last. He wiped at his face with trembling hands, smudging his eyeliner and makeup further.

Catcalls broke through his daze.

“Hey girl, are you all right? Do you want us to give you some company?”

“How much for a night?”

Mark ignored them, his steps quickening. His dishevelled appearance only seemed to attract more attention. His heart raced as he felt a hand grab his arm.

“Where you running to, huh?” a man’s voice growled, his grip tightening, dragging him towards the man. "Come, maybe we can talk over some drinks. What do you say?"

Mark froze, panic coursing through him. But before he could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“Let her go. She's with me.”

The man hesitated before releasing, grumbling as he walked away. Mark turned, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and relief, to find a familiar face staring back at him.

“Tiffany?” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

The escort he had once called on the night of his graduation, stood before him. Her sharp eyes scanned his face, narrowing as she took in his smeared makeup and trembling frame.

“Oh, you are from that...You look like hell,” she said bluntly. "Where’s your girlfriend?”

Mark didn’t respond. He just stared at her, his lips quivering, unable to form words.

Tiffany’s expression softened, and she sighed. “Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The thumping bass of the club hit Mark like a physical **** as Tiffany led him inside. 'Circle' was alive with energy—flashing lights, gyrating bodies, and music so loud it made the floor vibrate.

Tiffany bypassed the main dance floor, taking Mark to the VIP lounge. The atmosphere changed immediately: quieter, more intimate, and dripping with decadence.

Plush couches lined the walls, and a sleek bar sat at one end. Private rooms with velvet curtains at the sides.

Mark’s eyes darted around, taking in the scene. Couples lounged on the couches barely clothed, their hands wandering freely. One man sat with two women perched on either side of him, their lips pressed against his neck and collarbone. Another girl straddled a man, her moans ringing out above the low murmur of conversation.

Tiffany noticed his lingering gaze and smirked. “Quite the scene, huh?”

Mark nodded absently, a pang of sadness tightening his chest. This—the chaos at the dance floor, this freedom to explore sex—was what he had imagined college would be. Instead, he had spent his days at the mercy of one person before the next.

“Here,” Tiffany said, handing him a vodka shot from behind the bar. "So, trouble at paradise?"

Mark stared at the small glass for a moment before shaking his head.

He climbed onto the barstool, arching his back and reaching for the bottle instead. Tiffany raised an eyebrow as he tipped it back, taking two large gulps before the burn in his throat **** him to stop. He slammed the bottle onto the counter, coughing and sputtering.

“That's vodka, you idiot,” Tiffany said, but her voice was drowned out in his ****-soaked haze. Her words sounded muffled, and Mark found himself giggling uncontrollably. "Who cares?!"

He stumbled off the stool, weaving his way to the women’s restroom. Inside, he splashed his face with cold water before gulping down water from the tap to quench his dried-up throat.

At the sink beside him, a girl was hunched over a trash can, retching. A clutch and a black leather dog-shaped half-mask lay abandoned on the counter.

The mask, crafted from smooth, polished black leather, with sharp, angular edges that lend it an almost mysterious, edgy vibe. The ears are subtly raised, with delicate stitching along the edges allowing it to gently flop, giving them a realistic yet stylized look. The eyes were slits, framed by thin, silver accents that catch the light.

Mark picked it up, turning it over in his hands. On a whim, he wore it on his face, the soft leather moulding comfortably to his features.

Checking the clutch, he took out a deep red lipstick and applied it gently over his lips. The rich red hue contrasting beautifully against his skin. As he finished, he gently pressed his lips together, checking the result in the mirror.

He stared at his reflection: a dishevelled schoolgirl with a naughty puppy mask stared back.

She let out a small bark, curling her fingers into an awkward paw shape, and swiping it in the air like a puppy batting at invisible prey.

Mia giggled, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.

Back in the lounge, Tiffany’s eyes landed on the mask. “Where’d you find that?”

Mia shrugged before sitting down at the counter, her head resting on her arms. Tiffany sighed but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned against the bar and said, “Look, you need to talk if you want me to help."

"..."

"Do you want me to call you a cab home?"

"..."

"Shall I call your girlfriend to pick you up"

"..." Mia shook her head no.

"Then, what do you want to do?"

"...Karma...? Do you know what karma is?" Mia mumbled as she took another shot.

"... What kind of philosophical bullshit are you talking about?"

"..."

*Sigh*"... I don't know what you are so worried about. But Maybe… let loose a little? Don’t think. Don’t stress. Is it something you can fix tonight? No? Then don't think, don't stress, just have a drink or two and let loose. You'll have a clear mind tomorrow."

Mia looked up at Tiffany before nodding. Just as she reached her hand for the bottle, Tiffany shrugged taking it away and slid back another shot glass.

Mia grumbled as she clambered over the stool once more, reaching out toward the bench. Her hand found a basket, and without a second thought, she grabbed it and walked off.

"Wait, those aren't chips..." Tiffany muttered with a resigned sigh.

With a condom wrapper between her teeth, Mia glanced toward the groups lounging in the area. They were a mix of men and women, laughing, kissing, and drinking without a care in the world.

Her eyes darted over the scene: men sprawled comfortably on couches, flanked by women in tight dresses, their breasts exposed and lounged like felines, their every move deliberate and languid.

As the vodka coursed through her veins, Mia sauntered toward one of the low, circular tables where a group was gathered.

A bottle of whiskey rested on the table, catching the glow of the soft overhead lights.

Mia spat out the condom wrapper, unable to chew it, and flung the basket of condoms into the air, scattering them over the crowd and catching their attention.

Without hesitation, she snatched the whiskey bottle, brought it to her lips, and took a long, shaky swig.

The sharp burn of the **** made her eyes water, but she didn’t care. She slammed the bottle back onto the table with a grin, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Who the hell are you?” one of the women asked, her tone a mix of suspicion and amusement. "Are you a new girl? Did Tiffany send you?"

"Girl, that's some outfit," another girl added, her red lips curled into a sneer as she leaned closer to get a better look.

Mia didn’t answer. Instead, she cocked her head to the side like a playful pup, letting out a small, breathy giggle. Without hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed the woman squarely on the mouth, silencing her and leaving the woman flushed.

The group erupted into hoots, the woman stiffening in surprise before melting into the kiss.

Mia pulled her closer as she felt up the woman's breast with her other hand. Reciprocating, the woman slowly unbuttoned Mia's tight blouse, freeing her breasts.

As the kiss ended, Mia’s attention was caught by a movement on the couch - one of the guys sitting on the couch, who was enjoying the show, had just cummed into a girl's mouth.

The girl crouched between his legs just got up, taking a tissue in her hand.

Realising what the girl was about to do, Mia couldn't help but stop her, "Wait!" Throwing her sweaty blouse to one of the guy's faces, she rose on top of the table, swaying slightly. Her grin widened, and then, with a quick motion, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and bunched it up before lifting it just below her breasts, wearing it like a belt.

A mix of gasps and laughter rippled through the group as she stepped onto the table, balancing on all fours like a puppy with her hands and knees.

Her movements were slow and deliberate yet oddly playful, like a puppy exploring new territory.

The group’s laughter turned into a mix of amusement and intrigue as her mask’s floppy ears swayed with every step as she approached the girl.

Reaching her, Mia let out a small, playful growl, tilting her head as she gazed up at her. “Were you about to spit it out?” she teased, her voice dripping with mischief.

The girl blinked in surprise, frozen in place. Mia leaned in closer, her tone softer but no less provocative. “Don’t waste it,” she said, smirking. Then, without waiting for a reply, she closed the gap between them, her lips meeting the girl’s in a sudden, intense kiss.

The taste of cum lingering on her lips seemed to embolden Mia.

Her lips parted slightly, and she coaxed the girl’s mouth open, her tongue teasing before the faint, creamy taste of cum slid into her mouth from the other girl's. The group erupted into cheers and catcalls.

When Mia finally pulled away, she licked her lips theatrically, the motion exaggerated and pup-like. “Mmm... Delicious,” she said, her voice teasing.

Sliding off the table with an almost clumsy wag of her hips, Mia spun around and secured herself on top of the guy's lap.

The dog mask’s floppy ears bounced with her movements, adding an odd, cute charm to her otherwise bold display.

"What's your name?..." The guy couldn't help but ask.

Mia grinned, turning to face him, the mask hiding her flushed cheeks. “Mmma...Karma?” she slurred as she tried to say 'Mia. But do you know what karma is?' The remainder of the words were swallowed in her drunken haze.

Mia pulled back with a giggle surprised by her own speech, the dog mask’s floppy ears bouncing as she tilted her head again. She continued, this time trying not to slur, "Karma’s a little bitch. Hehehe..."

The man, now flushed, seemed lost for words, and the others around the table cheered.

"...Yeah, you really are." He kissed her, embracing her breasts, his hard dick wedged between her cheeks.

/*

A/N: Had to split it. There's going to be one more part for K.a.B.

*/