Ivy League at Any Cost Pt. 09

Friday night, the girls were getting ready. Nervous energy. Janette was even more beautiful than normal. Tonight was the night. Their first client.

Vicki did her best to work her own magic. Tasteful pale makeup. Perfect hair, up and wavy and sophisticated, the blouse with just the right amount of cleavage. Nervous smiles and shifting hands. "Big Leagues."

Janette was doing a final touch on her lipstick. She was gorgeous.

Things were still not right between them, but both girls did their best to ignore the tension. It wasn't fair, but Vicki still resented Janette. Her roommate, who she trusted to keep her safe, had abandoned her to get fucked and blackmailed. It didn't matter that they were both blackout drunk, or that Liz had arranged it.

So much of that night was a blank. Although Vicki couldn't remember the details, she was pretty sure she had gone down on Janette. If anything, Janette had been less overtly sexual around her ever since. The absence left her with a shallow sadness.

Vicki had few moments to dwell on it these days. Moments not spent in class were spent lurking around being abused by Liz.

"Is it stupid that I'm nervous?" Vicki asked.

"No," Janette said. "I'm nervous too."

"I'm not so sure it's even about the sex..."

"Is it that we're breaking the law?" Janette asked.

"Shit I hadn't even thought about that," Vicki said.

"Then what are you worried about?" Janette asked.

The anxiety was real but it took a second for Vicki to put her finger on it. Janette kept touching up her outfit, shifting accessories, looking in the mirror.

"You know that moment, the first time you take off your clothes, and they see you, and that look..." Vicki didn't say it out loud, but Janette knew. The look of excitement or disappointment.

Janette turned her full attention to Vicki. She gave her a warm smile in the mirror. "Yeah," Janette said.

"I guess that's what I'm nervous about," Vicki said.

All the girls in the house were dressed in fine evening wear. It would have been sexy if it weren't so damn clinical. They each had an image to uphold, separate from being young and free and fun.

The four specials didn't say anything, but they knew. The other girls came and went with friends in luxury SUVs. Off to parties. A typical Friday night.

When Vicki's ride came, another black SUV not so different than the others, she found herself on shaky legs walking to the door. This was her new life.

"Not forever," she told herself. Ninety days. She got in the car.

--

Vicki's life had turned bleak ever since Liz started blackmailing her. Beaten. Used. Fucked.

This wasn't worse, but it wasn't better either.

Vicki looked past the man on top of her. His cock slid uncomfortably against her insides, thin hands gripping her tits. She periodically gave a low moan, pretending to be into it while she counted the seconds until it would be over.

She had underestimated how hot Liz was. And Bill. They were both apex beauties in their early twenties. Lithe legs and tight asses. Manicured. Hot. Vicki didn't consider herself gay, or even gay adjacent, but getting fucked by Liz turned her on far more than whatever this was.

Her client was a software engineer and venture capitalist. Vicki could tell he worked at his body, a nerd falling into a schedule with a personal trainer. He was proud of it. Confident. It was fine. OK. Not Liz. Not Bill. He was old, in his thirties, maybe even forties.

Vicki closed her eyes, imagining it was Bill fucking her. He groaned above her. She moaned back in response. It didn't feel right. He was too thin, weak. Bill was powerful and thick.

Vicki stretched her wrists above her, up against the headboard. She imagined Liz was watching, was pinning her arms down, sitting on her face, making her lick pussy while this nerd fucked her. Humiliating. That wicked smile.

"I'm coming," the client said above her.

Vicki fought back a sigh and did her best passionate moan.

--

Hours later, the next morning really, but Vicki hadn't slept. The cum in her pussy made it hard for her to ignore what had happened.

She was a whore.

It meant no more or less than the other times she'd been fucked in the last few weeks. That's what she told herself.

Vicki slept all day. She was aware of Janette coming and going, but didn't check in. She took a long bath and prepared herself again.

No nervous energy. Maybe just dread. Friday and Saturday both belonged to the house. She had another client tonight.

Vicki did her best to wash the cum out. She told herself it was professional courtesy for the next client, not that she was revolting and base.

--

Saturdays at the house were much more subdued. Many of the girls were gone. Vicki checked in with the other specials. Few words were spoken.

Janette seemed fine, happy even. Kim and Haley less so, although nothing was obviously wrong.

Vicki had been lying to herself. She had convinced herself that if she could get through the hazing and the torture, that it would be OK, that she liked sex, even with rich strangers.

Her sister Sara had fond memories of her time here.

Vicki couldn't lie anymore. This wasn't for her. She closed her eyes and sighed.

A deep breath. Then another.

She would do this. Grind it out.

--

The client was nervous excitement. Another thirty-ish nerd getting his shit together.

They had a beautiful meal in a restaurant Vicki was a decade away from affording. Awkward laughter and excessive wine. Both of them knew where this was going, and neither of them were comfortable.

His apartment was on the twenty-ninth floor. Not the penthouse, but it still cost millions.

"I want to see you," he said. They both knew what he meant.

As Vicki took her clothes off, she could feel the warmth of his lust. It took the edge off more than the wine. At each step along the way, she made eye contact. He nodded her on, step by step, until she was completely naked.

Pale skin, full breasts, soft stomach and wide hips. She was recently shaved. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she suppressed a shiver.

"You are so beautiful," he said. And he meant it.

Then they were kissing, Vicki naked, Client fully clothed. He lead her to his bed.

The sex was awkward. He kept his clothes on a little too long. Foreplay and kissing were wonderful when it was with your boyfriend, but with a stranger it was bad. Vicki wanted to get it over with.

Eventually he got his clothes off and started fucking her. Missionary. Within moments, he said "It's not working."

He pulled out, his cock slick and half hard.

"Did you come?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Just the wine I guess. Can you get me hard again? With your mouth?"

Vicki came to terms with her reality. She was a whore now. Bought and paid for.

Vicki slid down to his cock, stroking with a soft touch while she ran her tongue across it. It tasted like (now familiar) pussy. Her pussy.

She was bent over his crotch, her butt pointed toward his face. Vicki's asshole and pussy were open and on display. "Little late for modesty," she told herself.

Vicki took his cock in her mouth, trying to ignore how disgusting it felt, how disgusted she was with herself. The Client was so nervous and awkward. He had asked her to go down on him, which should have been a refreshing change of pace from being ordered around by Liz.

He wasn't bad looking, and he was nice, but it wasn't working. In the worst of times, when she was eating Liz's ass or getting fucked by Steve, she was turned on. All the times Liz had humiliated her by stuffing her fingers in Vicki's pussy-- every time she had been wet.

Tonight, nothing.

Vicki spent a half hour teasing his cock, sucking, nibbling, stroking. It got hard, but not hard enough to fuck her. Each time it was awkward, she wanted to stop but could see the expectation in his eyes.

A half hour is a long time to spend sucking cock and licking balls, dealing with expectations and excuses. It was worse than anything Liz had done to her.

When Liz had been beating her or fucking her, making her eat her ass or pussy, Vicki thought she hated it. And she did hate it. She hated Liz, but with a cock in her mouth, going through the motions, Vicki realized a scary truth. The humiliation and the pain turned her on.

"Fuck that," she told herself. Even if some part of her liked the abuse, she wouldn't indulge it.

She doubled down on the cock in her mouth, until finally it was spasming and filling her mouth with wave after wave of salty cum, more than she could hope to swallow.

She hated Liz.

This wasn't over. Vicki was going to win.

--

"I want you to wear this tomorrow," Liz said. "For old times sake."

It was the same silver butt plug. A flood of memories washed over her. Blackmail. The blackout. She felt nauseous.

"Can't you just give me a break? You know what I just did," Vicki said.

Liz slapped her. It shocked Vicki more than it hurt.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that. You think you have it rough?"

Liz trailed off.

Vicki could see a memory play across Liz's face. The punishment. Vicki didn't know how things could get worse, but she saw the trauma play over Liz's face and was rattled.

"Why didn't you just quit?" Vicki asked. Her voice was quiet.

"I thought it would be worth it," Liz said.

"Was it?"

"Only when I graduate," Liz said. The wistful moment was fleeting. "Buttplug. Tomorrow."

--

Vicki was lying in bed, working through her jumble of thoughts. She didn't notice McKayla approach.

"You doing alright?" McKayla asked.

It took a moment for Vicki to even register the question, and then another to process it.

Was she doing alright?

No. No, she was not.

She didn't know what was worse, the constant blackmail and abuse from Liz or that she preferred it over her humdrum routine as a whore.

"First clients. Big deal," McKayla said.

"Yeah," Vicki said. She didn't know where to begin.

"It gets easier," McKayla said. "And at least rush is over. You don't have anything left to prove."

Vicki closed her eyes and imagined the discomfort, both physically and sexually, of walking around class with her ass stuffed.

"I need help," Vick said.

Oh Fuck.

McKayla's face was a mix of concern.

Fuck.

It was true, but why did she say it?

McKayla stepped in to the room and closed the door behind her.

Vicki had to do something, test the limits of this bondage. She had to do it in a way that wouldn't blow back on her.

A long pause.

Her heart was racing. Now or never.

And then Vicki started to talk, words coming out before she had a chance to consider them.

"I saw Liz and Steve... you know," Vicki said. "Together."

Steve and McKayla had broken up recently. Liz was somehow involved, but Vicki didn't know the details.

McKayla's face was stone. "Good for them," she said. "Why should I care?"

"It's not that. Liz saw me. She said if I told anyone, that she'd say I was fucking Steve, said she'd put me on trial," Vicki said.

It was close enough to the truth.

McKayla stared her down. She betrayed nothing. The girl would make a good poker player.

"Don't worry about her," McKayla said. "Don't get me wrong. As pledge captain, her word is sufficient to get you in serious shit, but when it comes to a trial I have veto power. She'd need real evidence."

"Oh," Vicki said, "well that helps."

Vicki's heart soared. Any evidence that existed, the butt plug, the shirt, cum stains and missing panties was all circumstantial. If it was Liz and Steve's word against hers, then McKayla would save her.

Probably.

"Vicki," McKayla said.

"Yeah?" Vicki said.

"Stay away from them. Both of them, unless you're on house business," McKayla said. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice. It was a price Vicki was willing to pay.

--

The weight of her predicament was lifted off Vicki's shoulders. Vicki wore normal clothes for the first time in weeks. The familiar constriction of a bra was a comfort, even if it wasn't exactly comfortable. She was free.

Liz texted her to meet up at the coffee shop for "an inspection." Vicki knew what that meant.

Vicki left the butt plug in her purse, almost as a sign of confidence.

Liz had no power over her anymore. She smiled at the thought.

--

Vicki arrived before Liz, strangely nervous. The next fifteen minutes would be the most important of her life. Liz wouldn't like it. She would fight and cuss and threaten, but Vicki had her. All Liz had was a bluff.

"Stay the course," she told herself.

She sipped her coffee and waited.

When Liz arrived, it took her half a second to find Vicki waiting, and another half second to process that Vick was wearing normal clothes.

Liz skulked up to her table, standing over her. "What the fuck is this?" she hissed.

"You better sit down," Vicki said. "Lets talk."

Vicki projected a confidence she didn't feel. Liz's eyes darted around, but she sat down.

"You better explain yourself--" Liz started.

"We're done," Vicki said. "I'm done. From here on out, we're just sisters. This is the last time we meet like this."

Liz's eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched.

"You must be the dumbest cunt in the--"

"Fine," Vicki interrupted again. "Threaten. Cuss. Whatever. Get it out, but we both know you can't do shit to me, not without McKayla, and she isn't your biggest fan right now."

Liz took a moment just to breathe, gathering herself. Her next words were measured and cold.

"She won't give a shit when she finds out how you went to Steve's house and fucked his brains out," Liz said.

"Stay away from me," Vicki said. She scooted back her chair and started to get up.

"McKayla doesn't like me, but she'll believe me when I show her the video," Liz said.

Vicki's stomach turned over. She had been forced to watch Steve and Liz fuck, been forced to clean them with her tongue, had a buttplug shoved up her ass. She had laid face down while Steve fucked her from behind. Despite her shame, she had come wildly.

Had they filmed it all? What could they take out of context? Was Liz in frame when Steve fucked her? She couldn't remember. Fuck.

She sat down.

"His doorbell has a camera. How you going to explain showing up at his house, then leaving an hour later with wet hair?"

The gears turned in Vicki's head. They hadn't filmed her fucking Steve?

If Liz was threatening with doorbell footage, that meant no real sex footage existed.

Thank god.

Liz held up the phone and played two videos. They were taken from the perspective of Steve's doorbell. Vicki ringing, looking sheepish, followed by another video of Vicki walking out of the front.

"Little bit of a waddle there sister. The 'I got fucked so hard I can barely walk,' walk," Liz said.

It wasn't so bad. It was... circumstantial.

Vicki did the math. How could she explain showing up at Steve's house? How could she explain the wet hair, and (god help her), the I-just-got-fucked-aura?

She couldn't explain it, not after McKayla told her to stay away. Liz would rat her out, and McKayla would believe it.

Which mean Vicki was fucked.

Vicki had been blackmailed into going over there, but it wasn't like McKayla would know or care. Somewhere out there were a group of old rich guys that wanted her to be guilty. Guilty meant they got to fuck her and humiliate her.

Liz watched her with a cruel smile.

Vicki had nothing. The doorbell would be enough. She wanted to curl up in the fetal position but sat motionless.

"What do you think I should do about this... this impertinence?" Liz asked.

"Please," Vicki said. "This isn't right. You don't have to do this."

She cursed herself for showing any weakness, but she didn't stop. Vicki was willing to beg.

"Your first mistake was fucking Steve. But this is different. Even if McKayla wanted to cut you a break, and believe me she won't want to-- It won't matter," Liz said.

"Why are you doing this?" Vicki said.

"The real question is, what are you willing to do to keep this just between us?"

Silence. It was awkward. One breath. Then another. Vicki's heart was racing, but her mind was blank.

"Shall I send it then?" Liz said.

"No," Vicki said. Meek. "Please. Don't send it."

"What are you willing to do?"

"Anything," Vicki said. Jesus, it was true. She would do anything.

"Did you follow my instructions?" Liz asked. Vicki knew what she meant. Was the buttplug in her ass?

"No," Vicki said.

Liz let a sneer slip through. Vicki was hanging on every look, every emotion. Her life was in this girl's hands.

Liz looked around the coffee shop. "Come with me," she said.

She lead Vicki to the unisex bathroom at the back of the coffee shop and locked the door.

"Tell me the truth. We both know you enjoy this," Liz said.

"I'll say anything you want," Vicki said. Whatever Liz was going to do, it was going to be here. Not exactly in public but close enough.

"Fine, whatever. Keep pretending," Liz said. "But the usual isn't going to be enough. You thought you could defy me, go to McKayla. You deserve to be punished."

Liz looked around, almost for inspiration, like she didn't know what she would do to Vicki. It was terrifying.

"Get on your knees," she said.

The floor didn't look dirty, but Vicki was disgusted anyway.

"You have bigger problems," she told herself. Vicki got down on her knees. The tile was cold and immediately uncomfortable.

Liz pulled her skirt up and slid down her panties. Vicki got a well-lit view of an immaculately groomed pussy as Liz lowered herself down to Vicki's lips.

"For your punishment," Liz said. "I'm going to piss in your mouth. You can swallow it, or not. I don't give a shit."

Vicki wanted to beg, ask for forgiveness, for the belt, or just to eat her pussy, but she knew it was pointless. The more she begged, the more Liz would lean in to it.

"Say yes master," Liz commanded.

Vicki blinked away tears that she didn't know had formed. The pressure in her face was overwhelming. She didn't even feel like running. Vicki just wanted to let go.

"Yes master," she said. Jesus she meant it. She forced herself to think of something else, anything else. She wouldn't break down crying.

"You deserve this," Liz said. Liz ran her fingers through Vicki's dark hair, suddenly gripping and pulling her close. Vicki's lips were pressed tight against Liz's pussy.

"Drink fast," she said.

Vicki opened her mouth and waited.

The stream was intense. Vicki forced herself not to pull away. She didn't have time to process the taste. She just felt warmth as she swallowed as much as she could.

Two gulps in, then the taste and smell hit her.

She didn't have time to think. She just tried to swallow, but she wasn't fast enough. Liz's piss filled her throat and her nose. Then she was jerking away in reflex, coughing, her whole world that smell.

"Jesus fuck Vicki," she heard Liz's derision but couldn't process.

Vicki spent long moments coughing and gagging on the bathroom floor, aware of Liz and running water, but not much else.

"You're covered in piss," Liz said. "You better clean up before the manager finds you."

Vicki was done coughing, aware of the painfully hard tile on her knees and hands.

"Look at me," Liz commanded.

Vicki looked up, aware of the tears in her eyes. Liz looked so perfect. Always perfect.

"I'm not going to forget this," Liz said. "Where is the buttplug?"

"In my purse," Vicki said.

"Clean yourself up," Liz said. "I'll be right back." Then she was off.

Vicki forced herself to get off the floor and lock the door. Damage control. She had to clean up and get out of here.

Vicki turned on the faucet and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and red. Hair was wet. She was soaked in piss.

Vicki lost it, gagging in the sink. Both relieved and disappointed that nothing came up. Her stomach churned as Vicki dwelled on the source of her fullness.