That remains to be seen

Steph hugs and cuddles you as you cry, rocking you in her arms until you sob yourself to sleep.

When you awake you find yourself alone, the late morning sun shining through your bedroom window, and an urgent need in your bladder. You swing you legs off the bed, but as you stand you realise how sore you are. Groaning, you hobble down the hall to the bathroom, every part of you aching. Your pussy and ass feel stretched and sore, although a nervous examination shows no tearing.

You feel like you'd kill for a shower. You turn the water on as hot as you can stand it, letting it stream over your body as you carefully soap yourself. You can see bruises where strong fingers groped and squeezed you, and feel the tender soreness of your holes when you wash them. You groan from the ache, then groan again as the memories of last night come back again.

Finally, you turn off the shower and wrap yourself in a towel before heading back to your room. Your roommates seem to be out, making you thankful you don't have to deal with their questions yet. You pick up your phone, intending to call Steph to thank her for caring for you, then freeze in horror as you unlock it.

You have 243 new text messages. And 58 missed calls. And 79 email notifications.

Shuddering, you sit down on your bed. Steeling yourself you start to look at the messages.

"Woooooo girl! Heard about the party you put on last night!"

"What up bitch? Still fucking and sucking every guy on campus?"

"Thanks for the slut show! Too bad you passed out before I got some of you."

With a sob you keep reading, finding almost all of them in the same theme, some with pictures of you attached, your holes full of cocks, an expression of degraded bliss on your face. There's even a video of you bucking and riding one cock while you scream for others to fill your ass and mouth.

After the first fifty or so you can't continue. You're heart is beating madly in shame and fear, and though it pains you to admit it, some excitement as well.

You're about to turn off your phone and huddle back into bed when it chimes with a new email notification. You're about to ignore it when you see it is marked urgent. With curious trepidation, you open it.

"Lisa Carter: Student Identification Number 2406732. This email is notice for you to attend a mandatory meeting with Dean of Students Dr. Sharon Dalmus at 10:00 AM this Monday. This meeting is part of an investigation into events which have come to our attention. We wish to repeat and emphasise that your attendance at this meeting is mandatory, and failure to attend could result in the most serious consequences. Thank you for your attention to this matter."

With a groaning sob you fall back on your bed, curling into a ball as you pull the covers over your naked body and start to weep brokenly.