You cheated off me.

You spin to face your accuser, blonde hair swirling around your fine features as your hands land on your hips (not at all) coincidentally thrusting your barely covered breasts at the speaker.

“How dare you?” you counter angrily as you take the measure of your accuser. He’s a small man, barely your height, his face set in a mask that you don’t know how to interpret. You think you recognize him from your math class, you remembered his test better than you did him, as you’d been certain he’d never dare complain about your cheating, not when you could just fuck the teacher to get around any complaints (or tell your boyfriend that he’d been hitting on you, that would have solved it too). Besides, he’d never complained before. Something was different, but he was well below your notice, hell, below even a random fuck in the halls, so you ignored it.

“I dare because I have you on video,” he replies, holding up a cell. The small screen showed her cheating off him, not at all subtly. “Now, you may be able to threaten, or seduce everyone here to keep them off your back, but I can go over your head, not that that’s hard given how often you’re on your knees, and get you expelled. You’ll have a chance to be a real whore, not just a slut. You want that?”

Your future flashed before you, an endless parade of sucking cock for cash and taking it up the ass for rent. You’d be lying if the thought didn’t get your juices flowing down south, but the idea of fucking for fun while your gullible (but rich) husband paid for your closet full of sexy clothes also appealed. So, it was time to decide, let him get you expelled, maybe torch a few other careers on the way down, or convince him to keep the footage to himself, at least until you can get your own leverage…