Ivy League at Any Cost Pt. 10

Liz seemed disinterested.

"I know we have our differences," Vicki began, "But you promised that you wouldn't put us in a position out there that you hadn't prepared us for. I'm not ready for this."

Something in Liz's stoic exterior broke, if only for a moment. She took a deep breath. "It's a bunch of coked up Wallstreet bros. They probably have small dicks. Maybe they'll just poke and grope. Or maybe they'll want to stick with the theme. Bukakke. You know what that is?"

Vicki shook her head. She probably should know. What the fuck was she doing with her life? She was a sex slave. She should be googling this shit.

"You just get on your knees, and they come on your face. Five, six, seven guys. Shot after shot. Sometimes you have to drink it, sometimes you don't," Liz said. "Mostly just expect some fondling, jokes about how your pussy smells like fish. All that clever shit."

Liz pulled her phone out and started to scroll. "Just relax for a minute, we have a night ahead."

--

An hour and a half in, Liz commanded her to take her clothes off. The SUV was cold as hell. "That's the point," Liz told her. "You can leave your panties on."

The SUV was big, but not so big that Vicki didn't have to flail around to get her clothes off. The jacket was easy, but the dress was not. Liz had to unzip the back, and it took what felt like minutes of scooting to get it off. Bill would occasional check her out in the mirror.

They drove another half hour into the city, down boulevards and avenues in neighborhoods Vicki didn't recognize, eventually landing in a semi-lit alley. Vicki's arms were goosebumps. Her nipples were hard and uncomfortable. She shivered and chattered, knowing that darkness waited for her, wanting anything but the cold.

"Here's our stop," Liz said, and pulled the red collar out of her purse. "Put this on, and take your panties off."

"I thought that was for rush," Vicki said.

"Tonight is a special occasion," Liz said. "Get out."

"Can I get my clothes?" Vicki asked.

"This is it," Liz said. She handed Vicki the collar. There was a leash attached.

Vicki craned her head to look around outside. It was dark. No obvious people. Her hands were shaking as she put on the collar. She knew it wasn't just the cold.

She caught Bill's eyes in the mirror as she kicked her legs up to slide off her panties. It never felt normal.

Liz opened the door, and Vicki stepped out into the night. It was unseasonably warm, and Vicki was grateful to be even slightly less freezing. Liz followed after, grabbing the leash.

She was standing in an alley wearing only a red collar and pumps, still shivering from the SUV. Vicki heard a twinkle of drunk laughter and looked down the alley to the street. A pack of college girls stumbled by. She prayed no one would notice her.

Liz banged on a door, tiny fist on steel. The sound made Vicki jump as it echoed down the alley.

Vicki kept looking over her shoulder.

There was no response at first. Time went by. It may have been seconds but felt like hours. Vicki was naked in an alley, exposed, her heart pounded as she watched small crowds wander down the street at the the end of an alley.

Liz didn't bother to talk, just pulled Vicki close by the leash. Vicki clicked toward her tormentor, closer and closer, the pressure not stopping until her full breasts were pushing against Liz's tight body.

"You love this," Liz said.

"I don't," Vicki said. She was cold and nervous, terrified that someone would see her, dread in her stomach, knowing that whatever was about to happen would be infinitely worse.

Liz grazed her hand across Vicki's hips, down between her thighs. "Let's check," she said.

The heavy steel door opened with a creak. A forty something year old man opened the door. He looked like a cook. He was wearing a clean smock, was forty pounds overweight and balding.

He took a look at Liz, then over to Vicki. Vicki prayed she wouldn't have to fuck him. He smiled and showed coffee stained teeth.

"Come on in," he said. "Whats with the leash?"

"I like it," Liz said.

He shrugged, then led them down a short hallway into a commercial kitchen. Liz walked first, pulling Vicki loosely by the leash. Her heels clicked on the rough tile floor.

The kitchen was cramped but well lit. Thankfully there were no cooks or busboys running through. It seemed empty, with only muffled laughter coming from an adjacent room. The restaurant was cold like the SUV. Goosebumps rose on Vicki's arms.

"Over here," the man said. He gestured to a stainless steel sink.

He turned the water on, an overbearing whooshing sound of high pressure water in an otherwise quiet room. Vicki was completely naked and cold. The man ran his hand through the water, testing the temperature.

Liz connected the leash to a knob on a cabinet. It was more ceremonial than functional. Vicki felt like livestock. She could have bolted but forced herself to stay still.

"You're going to wash up, got it?" the man said. Vicki was pretty sure he was more than a cook, maybe even the owner.

"I already did," Vicki said. Hours ago. She had gone in to the night expecting to be fucked and had taken the appropriate precautions, the semi-standard enema and douche.

"Don't care," he said. "Shoes." He flipped a switch on the faucet, and the running water changed into a spray. He pulled the faucet away from the sink. It was connected by tubing.

Vicki cursed under her breath. The collar limited her movement. She pulled her leg up and slipped off her first shoe. Everything was awkward, breasts swaying, trying to angle her body away so he couldn't see every inch of her pussy.

The man was strangely professional, but even so Vicki couldn't help but feel his leering gaze. Liz looked delighted.

"I'll take those," Liz said.

The floor was cold on her bare feet.

"There's soap on the counter," he said.

"Soap?"

Without warning, he turned the jet on Vicki. She screamed, startled more than anything. The water was cool, almost cold. She was shivering immediately. He ran the water across her collar bone, down to her breasts, belly and thighs.

"We don't have all night," Liz said. She nodded at the soap.

Fuck. Vicki grabbed the bottle of blue liquid soap. Fucking dish soap. She dumped it on her breasts, then started on the rest of her body.

"Turn around," the man, Vicki thought of him as Chef, said. She turned her back to him. "Get the main area. Armpits, pussy, ass."

Vicki followed orders. The sudsy water flowed down her body, across the tile to a drain in the floor. She tried to keep it functional, not sexual, but it was difficult in front of Chef.

"Why don't you help her?" Liz asked. "Vicki, bend over."

Vicki closed her eyes. Was this man going to fuck her? She didn't get that vibe, but vibe meant nothing when she was naked and helpless. He hadn't made any moves for his clothing. Why did she care that he wasn't her type? This wasn't about attraction. It had never been about attraction.

She put her elbows on the counter and bent over. Vicki felt a rough hand on her ass, a moment of clarity hit her. No matter what was about to happen, this was worse than eating Liz's ass. Vicki closed her eyes.

Soapy fingers ran between her cheeks and down to her pussy, grinding and fondling her shivering body. Vicki didn't react. A blast of cold water hit her most intimate areas, followed by another round of soap.

"Spread your legs," Liz said. Vicki followed orders, opening her body to anything.

She felt soapy fingers stroke around her pussy, between her lips, grinding around.

"You don't have to go easy on her, she likes it," Liz said.

The rough hand stroked her again, then a finger pushed inside her pussy. It was big, about the size of two of Liz's slender fingers. It shouldn't have gone in so easy. Vicki cursed herself. Why did her body make it so easy on them?

He stroked her insides only briefly before pulling his finger out.

"Asshole too," he said.

"Can Liz do it?" Vicki said. She turned to face him. Vicki hated herself for asking, but his fingers were so big, and she didn't know where he had been or what he had done. This was a sushi restaurant. Had he spent all day chopping the heads off of fish?

He shrugged and looked at Liz.

"No, you do it. She needs the practice," Liz said.

He shot another round of soap on her ass, and worked his rough hands on her body. Calloused palms cupped her ass, rubbing and grinding as he worked his way to her asshole. He massaged it only briefly before shoving his finger inside.

Vicki should have been used to this by now but wasn't. Couldn't. The finger was huge in her ass, stretching her uncomfortably. The soap wasn't enough, but he wasn't trying to fuck her. After a disgusting wiggle or two, he pulled out of her, leaving her feeling empty.

He sprayed her down again, focusing on her pussy and ass, but eventually getting every area below her neck. Vicki was shivering, painfully cold and clammy, nipples stiff. She told herself it was from the cold and not from being used.

The man held his fingers up to his nose and sniffed.

"Good enough," he said, and turned the water off. "Here's the deal. You know about Nyotaimori?"

"Just a little," Vicki said.

"Well this ain't it. I got a bachelor party out there that wants something exotic. You lie on the table. Naked. I cover you in fish. So far so good?"

Vicki nodded. It wasn't a tech billionaire or a private flight, but her expectations in life were lower these days.

"So here's the difference. They get to touch you. They are encouraged to touch you, but you only gotta fuck the groom and the best man," he said.

"Don't worry about that," Liz said. "I have something special planned."

The man raised his eyebrow.

"Whatever. They touch. They grope. After dinner, you fuck 'em. Public, private, however they want to do it. Got it?"

Vicki was freezing, naked, violated, and leashed to the cabinet. It was only going to get worse. She'd been promised three months of prostitution. Her sister called it sex slavery. Those words felt more accurate all the time.

"Yeah," Vicki said.

--

Liz lead Vicki by her leash out of the kitchen into a mostly vacant dining room.

A party was in full swing. There was a pack of eight men, a bunch of mid-twenties millionaires, not rich enough to be famous, but rich enough to feel powerful and entitled. Bottles of wine, Saki, and beer littered the table.

They whooped and cheered when they spotted Vicki. She felt so short without her heels on. Her body still glistened from the shower. Her full breasts bounced as she stepped. She did her best to be proud, not meek. With each step, she swayed her hips, tried to imagine herself as a runway model.

She heard them making comments to each other about her big tits and shaved pussy. Vicki was Asian America, something she had mostly made her peace with. She still felt out of place at moments, mostly surrounded by WASPy girls. This was her moment. She was exactly what they wanted, dark nipples and pale skin. It should have been empowering. It was the opposite.

Despite her best efforts, the leash made her feel less than, a naked slave among people, allowed to go only where they dictated.

The men talked too loudly, the Saki flowing too freely. Vicki thought she could pick out the best man, the center of attention. The groom looked a bit sheepish and embarrassed, cutting his eyes away from her after staring.

Vicki tried to place herself above it. She was an unattainable beauty, like a nude model. But her self deception came crashing down immediately at the yank of her leash.

Liz lead her to a long dining table and nodded. Vicki climbed on to the table, trying to ignore the comments. She could feel the anticipation from the men.

She crawled down the table on her hands and knees, her pussy and ass awkwardly exposed, breasts swaying. Vicki held her head low, letting her hair cover her face. She was so damn cold, with only the heat from embarrassment to help.

Vicki then flipped over, her breasts pointed up for the men to ogle. Liz stretched Vicki's arms above her head, wrapped the leash around her petite wrists, and gave it to one of the men.

Once again it was almost ceremonial. Vicki wasn't completely restrained, but there was some resistance whenever she tried to move her hands.

An intrusive thought leapt in front of the others. All eyes were on her, not just because she was naked and helpless, but because she was hot. Stretched out and on display, it pulled her belly tighter, her breasts higher. A sheen of damp water still covered her body. Her nipples were hard.

Whatever they paid wasn't enough. They shouldn't get to fuck her. She was better than them.

Liz forced Vicki's legs apart, providing a nice thigh gap for the men to get a clear view of her pussy. It was freshly shaved and bare. She had an odd angle, looking up at a group of men who stared down at her exposed body. An odd angle, but a familiar feeling.

"Now that your serving dish has arrived, we will get started," Chef boomed. "As a reminder, in traditional Nyotamori there are strict requirements. The food never touches flesh, and you are forbidden from touching the girl."

The room feel quiet. Vicki had the confidence to look around. Disappointment shone in the men's eyes.

The chef smiled. "Fortunately, this ain't traditional Nyotamori. Touch away boys."

They cheered. Vicki's stomach sank, as cruel desire broke out across her audience's faces.

"I promise you only the safest, cleanest fish," Chef said. "So clean, you can taste it raw."

Liz nodded.

"She has something extra special planned," Chef said.

Liz was holding what looked like a ladle. It was dark wood, heavily lacquered and polished. On one end, was the scoop of a normal ladle, but the handle was much thicker than it should be and a groove ran from the scoop all the way down to the end.

Vicki stared at the ceiling as Liz approached. The men couldn't decide whether to stare at the naked Asian spread out below them, or her arguably hotter (although clothed) pimp.

Vicki felt Liz's familiar fingers on her breasts. The room went silent. Vicki stared at a water spot in the ceiling. The fingers closed on her nipple and pulled, just hard enough to get her attention. Liz dangled the ladle in front of Vicki's mouth.

"Suck," she said.

Vicki squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She hated her life, hated the place her choices had lead her. She leaned her head forward and took the wooden handle in her mouth.

"Fuck," one of the boys said.

"You gentlemen are going to get the ultimate experience. Soy sauce with just a hint of pussy," Chef said. "Although not a normal part of Nyotaimori, we like to think of this as our tradition. Which one of you would like to insert this in her?" he asked.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck," Vicki's internal voice yelled at her. And it was obvious when she knew what to look for. The "ladle" was a big wooden dildo, designed to fit into her pussy and funnel soy sauce to the base, where these sickos could dip in their sushi.

There were things Vicki wanted to say, wanted to do. Make accusations and insults. But she did nothing. She laid on the table. Didn't move.

"I'll do it," the best man said. His hair was blond and shaggy, pulled back into a pony tail. His expensive suit was tailored. He kind of chuckled at his friends, both embarrassed and emboldened to be doing this.

He took the dildo from the Liz and positioned himself over Vicki. He rubbed it around her pussy. The end of it was round and extremely smooth. It was like he was trying to turn her on, to get her ready for it. But it wasn't happening. Nothing about the situation, the cold, the men, their hungry eyes, and their use of her body, could put her in a sexual place.

After superficial movements to get her ready, he started to push it inside of her. It wasn't as big as the contest dildo, but also was only lubricated by her spit. He had to work it into her, a half inch at a time, back and forth. Vicki concentrated on her breathing, actually had to lock down her hips and muscles to lean into the penetration.

"She must be pretty tight," one of his idiot friends said.

"You wouldn't believe," her violator said, as he kept pushing it deeper and deeper into her.

Finally the pressure stopped, and she was left with just fullness. The man let the ladle rest on the table, and she felt a weird pressure as the handle pressed up into her.

Then dinner started in earnest. The process went slowly. Her breasts and stomach were covered by simple nigiri, fresh cuts of fish on rice. The area between her hips, thighs, and even her pussy were covered in thin cuts of sashimi -- salmon and tuna and yellow tail all clammy and cool on her skin.

The chef took a ceramic soy sauce container, making a show of it to the guests. "Gentlemen, may you enjoy eating this meal as much as we enjoyed preparing it for you," he said. A second later Vicki felt the cool splash of soy sauce on her pussy, drenching her until it ran down to the ladle, collecting in the scoop between her thighs. The men around her cheered.

Then they started to eat, encouraged to touch Vicki while they did so. Each time they pulled a piece of nigiri off her breasts or stomach, they would intentionally poke or caress her. Each piece of sashimi would be dragged across her skin. The closer it was to her pussy, the more likely they were to run the meat across her labia, across her clit, down the soy sauce soaked dildo that distended her pussy.

"This is the best soy sauce I've ever tasted," one of the men said. "I wonder what's the secret?" He took a piece of sashimi and tried to bury it in her pussy. Fortunately or unfortunately, Vicki's pussy was already filled by the ladle, so he succeeded only in rubbing it around her pussy, occasionally poking her with the ends of his chopsticks.

It was the worst night of her life, and that was saying something. Cold and uncomfortable, poked and molested. Not a person. Something to be laughed at and used.

As the meal was winding down, Chef and Liz came back.

"Can I have your attention?" Liz said. After a round of jokes, the teasing on her nipple stopped and the group quieted down.

Liz approached closer. She put her hand between Vicki's hips and pulled the dildo out of her. Vicki felt a brief moment of relief, fully grasping how much the pressure in her pussy had compounded her displeasure.

Her body was stiff. She had been laying in one position for too long. She felt the wetness of soy sauce between her legs, feeling like she had pissed herself.

"Slide her ass down to the edge and hold her leash," Liz said. The leash was still wrapped around her slender wrists. One of the clients tightened the slack, biting slightly into her flesh and constricting her movement.

"Here's the plan. You guys want to fuck her?" Liz asked.

"Oh yeah," the best man said.

"Well I have something special for the groom to be." Liz said. "How do you feel about something special?"

He looked nervous, but shook his head yes.

"Well I want you to do me a favor then," Liz said. "I want you to fuck her tight little asshole, her virgin asshole. But you need to be a gentleman. You can only fuck her after she asks for it. Make her beg even. You think you can do that?"

He looked confused, but agreed. He turned to the best man. "This is... safe?"

"Of course," he said. "You have no fucking idea how much this cost. Trust me. What do you think that blood test was for? Nothing but the best."

Vicki watched the groom's face break from suspicion to accepting to something like joy. A sly grin broke across his face, growing and growing. He drank in Vicki's body as if seeing it for the first time. Smooth thighs, ample breasts, the curve of her belly.