Ivy League at Any Cost Pt. 11

Vicki spent most of the next Saturday in bed. She only got up to drink water or pee. Everything was sore, not just where she had been fucked. Shivering on a hardwood table for hours had not been good to her.

Between naps, flashes of the evening would run through her body, memories of being objectified and fucked that were so vivid that she could feel them. But that wasn't Vicki. That was just her body.

She didn't leave her room. Janette was gone. No one came to check on her. Vicki was alone.

Around four o'clock she got a knock on the door.

Liz poked her head in.

"Wake up, you're still on tonight," she said.

Vicki was too tired to be scared. She closed her eyes and leaned against her headboard, took a deep, long breath.

"I can't," Vicki said. She couldn't put the despair in to words. Vicki couldn't go out again, to get fucked and punished, humiliated and used. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.

Liz stepped in the room. Vicki should have been scared. She felt nothing. Empty.

"Listen Vicki," Liz said. "You can just quit. I knew you couldn't do this. Your brains weren't good enough to get you in the door, and your body isn't strong enough to keep you here. You want to stay in bed? Good luck."

"I'm not Sarah," Vicki said.

Liz's face twisted into a cruel sneer. "You're right. She was stronger than you are."

Then Liz was gone.

There was a history here, something terrible had happened, Vicki could feel it. But she wasn't her sister. The hatred was just so one sided and unearned.

She looked at the clock. Three hours until show time with no idea who she had to fuck. Vicki willed herself out of bed.

--

"You have any..." Vicki darted her eyes back and forth, and whispered, "Drugs?"

Kim was standing in her underwear, twisting her dark hair into a beautiful cascade of loose curls. It took meticulous planning to look so easy and carefree.

She smiled. Vicki was ridiculous, and they both knew it, but Kim was her only real connection to that world.

"Like weed?" Kim said. She was a bit too carefree and loud.

"Something harder," Vicki said.

"Harder how?" Kim asked.

"Ecstasy," Vicki said. "I read it makes you... want to be touched."

Kim stopped the hair teasing and looked at Vicki, really looked at her, sparkling brown eyes asking a question without words.

Vicki nodded. Whatever bad thing Kim was looking for, Vicki wore it on her face, in her posture, her shoulders, every part of her. Vicki didn't have the will to pretend to be strong anymore.

Kim knew. She hadn't been thrown into the abyss like Vicki, but she knew. This was her world too. Words weren't needed any more.

"Not on short notice," Kim said.

"Right," Vicki said. Her voice felt meek and quiet. She hated it. "Thought I'd try."

Kim held her thin hands out to Vicki. "Can you give me your hands?" she asked.

Vicki looked at those delicate fingers, piano playing fingers, like they were dangerous. Human contact was high voltage.

But just a glimmer of politeness, of consent, hit Vicki like a ray of sunshine. She put her hands on Kim's.

"I'm sorry," Kim said. She let the words settle. "You can do this. Drink a little too much wine. Laugh at things that aren't funny. Bring lube. You don't have to be brilliant for one night, you can be average. You just need to get through it. OK?"

Vicki shut her eyes. Somebody was going to fuck her tonight. Maybe several somebodies. She couldn't control how, whether they were racist assholes or shy programmers. The mechanics of sex weren't exactly difficult, but the invisible weight of a thousand different indignities and pain were just stacked so high, so much pain she couldn't breathe.

"I'll try," Vicki said.

"Yeah?" Kim said. She reached out to Vicki's cheek, wiping away a tear that she hadn't realized was there.

Vicki recoiled at the touch.

"Sorry," Kim said.

"Yeah, no. Don't be," Vicki said. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then Vicki was nodding and shuffling off, going back to her business of getting ready for the night.

--

Vicki tried. There was no gang bang or punishment, just a rich guy who thought he was a bit younger and a bit cooler than he actually was.

She armed herself with a lie.

She confessed over dinner that she hadn't been on many dates, that she hadn't had many "intimate moments," and the few she did have hadn't ended well. She lied and told her date that she was probably just bad at sex, and actually she was a little scared.

This rich man who had purchased her body held her hand and promised that he would be gentle with her, treat her right. Go slow. He'd do his best to show her what good sex was like. Vicki wanted to throw up, but instead she smiled and said, "That would be nice."

He kept his word. Vicki let him act out his nice guy fantasy, and he was gentle, over communicating, tender.

He was nice enough to show her the proper way to suck his cock. He was patient with her. What a hero. Vicki swallowed his come and counted her blessings. At least he spared the rest of her sore body.

--

Vicki survived the weekend. She got outside, went to class. Answered questions. She was really fucking good at this, at school. Despite the pain and distractions, she liked it. This was the real Vicki, and it was nice to be reminded of it.

Her Chem Lab partner, Frank, was still cute. He had that super lean, skate board punk body with a journalist's brain. Vicki saw the way his eyes followed her, how he hung on her every word. He was smitten. The real Vicki, the one from just a few months ago, would have been intimidated and excited, wondering whether he really liked her or if it was just in her head. She would have bounced around all of her insecurities for days, ignoring his lingering eyes, questioning how any one could want her stupid, fat body.

She had gained an unwanted super power these last weeks. Vicki knew with absolute confidence when someone wanted to fuck her.

Frank worried about her, about the rumor he had heard, that she had been forced to give a blow job in front of a whole sorority. He wanted to protect her but had too much sense to infringe on her agency. It was quaint.

Like everything in life, her time with Frank was tainted by an invisible expectation of sex. Vicki could feel it even if Frank couldn't.

But he was also the closest thing to real human contact Vicki had left, close to an actual friend. He was a drink of water in the desert, and Vicki drank deep.

--

Vicki was on her knees, licking Liz's asshole.

"I need a favor," Liz said.

Vicki had to stop, just for a minute, and laugh. Once she started, she couldn't stop. She had to pull away from Liz and just sit on her knees and cackle.

"What's so fucking funny?" Liz asked.

"I'm licking your asshole and THEN you ask for a favor?"

Liz actually chuckled too. Not malicious or cruel. Not calculated. Just laughed.

"OK yeah, I see it," Liz said. "But don't stop. Keep going while I talk."

That invisible filament of camaraderie was immediately severed as Vicki sat back up, pushing her lips into Liz's firm ass, running her tongue around Liz's asshole again.

The task was meant to be degrading, and it largely succeeded. Vicki was still coming to terms with the idea that some part of her sexuality was tied up in being degraded, but Liz rarely followed up with anything more. There just wasn't enough privacy or time.

"The favor," Liz said. "I have a presentation to do, almost like a job interview. I'm supposed to do some business analysis and present it to a small team. Real people. Industry leaders."

Vicki just listened, not stopping. She alternated licking the inside of Liz's cheeks, kissing and running her lips across smooth skin, licking around her asshole, with the occasional direct hit. She didn't have a method to evaluate her technique, but Liz didn't complain.

"I need you to do it," Liz said.

"What?" Vicki asked. Liz pulled away.

"Why don't you put your clothes back on and sit down," Liz said. As much as possible, Liz liked to strip her naked, but it was difficult to find time when they were guaranteed not to be interrupted.

Vicki followed orders. Liz didn't bother to put her panties back on and just watched Vicki get dressed.

By the time Vicki was clothed and sitting in the desk chair, something had changed. Liz was looking at her like she was a person.

"There is a lot of analysis to do, and I'm not going to get there. Real business isn't about spreadsheets. It's about trust and connections. But there isn't a presentation on that," Liz said.

"What do you want?" Vicki asked.

"Do the analysis. We'll present it together, but you'll answer the questions."

"I'm doing your work?"

"Yeah," Liz said.

"You're not even going to sugar coat it? Not going to lie to me?" Vicki asked.

"Who gives a shit. Hiring smart people is the secret of business," Liz said.

It was the closest thing to a compliment Liz had ever given her, and it wasn't about sex, or her body, or even sorority life. It was about the real Vicki. She was smart.

"OK," Vicki said. "How long do I have?"

"Four days," Liz said.

"And how long have you had it?"

"Three weeks," Liz said.

Vicki didn't know the full scope, but she could guess. School was intense. A three week project would be... significant. Impossible?

"That is not ideal," Vicki said.

"I get it," Liz said. "A big ask. Not reasonable, maybe not even fair. Putting you in an awkward spot. So I'll tell you what. You go back to you eating my ass, and I'll think about my obligation to be fair to you."

It wasn't a joke or a bluff. Liz lifted up her skirt. Vicki went back to it.

--

Some time later, Vicki was strangely excited. The project was large, complicated, but not difficult. It would just take time, and she had very little of it.

Vicki didn't know how she would present this yet, or how she would find the time to polish this into something impressive, but she would do it. Vicki had used her body to get in to the university, but she was determined to use her brain to stay there.

It was possible, but she needed help. She had only one friend left, one who was inquisitive and analytical, who hung on her every word and was dying to spend time with her.

She called Frank.

"I need a favor," Vicki said.

--

"Can you talk?" McKayla asked.

Vicki was in her room, crafting the presentation. She had spent nearly every waking moment working on the project with Frank, and it was finally coming together. She was already reading their work with the eye of a presenter. What data to pull out, how to present it. She had been good at this once, captain of her speech and debate team.

McKayla sat down on Janette's vacant bed.

"I heard it got a little rough on Friday," McKayla said.

Tied down. Naked. Gross men eating sushi off her body. Racism... and other things.

She didn't want to think about the other things.

"Yeah," Vicki said.

"I'm..." McKayla started, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

"Liz is a bitch, but she wasn't wrong. She... I... we were cruel during rush, because sometimes the real world is cruel," McKayla said.

"Thanks?" Vicki shot back. Way more sarcasm than intended. Jesus Vicki, McKayla was trying. But everything just hurt so bad.

Admitting weakness hurt. Even acknowledging that she didn't like getting fucked by those strangers, of being objectified and used, just knowing that she didn't choose it, that she didn't like it, made it all hurt worse.

And McKayla apologizing crushed her, even though she tried to ignore it. It meant McKayla knew. This it wasn't just Liz. It wasn't just revenge on her sister for something that had happens years ago. This was the job.

"Am I only here because your clients need an Asian girl to fuck?"

McKayla looked almost sad. Distant. Running through old memories. Deciding what to say and not say.

"I don't know Vicki," she said. "We all took different paths to get here. The thing we all have in common is that we choose to be here, and someone credible vouched for us."

So much pain came crashing through Vicki. She could feel it in her face, neck, the tips of her fingers and toes. She wanted to scream.

Sarah did this to her. Vicki knew she had twisted her sister's arm, but it didn't matter. Sarah tried to warn her, but no words were sufficient. She should have just said no.

Vicki wanted to believe it was all just Liz. She spent so much of her time being abused by Liz, that it was easy to lose focus on the truth. They were members of a larger organization whose goal was to exploit her body for money or power. There were no friends here.

She wondered just how evil her sister was. Clearly, Liz's revenge plot started with Sarah, even if Vicki didn't know the details. The feeling coated her like a film. For all the times Liz had fucked her or beaten her, made her service her ass or pussy, likely Liz had been forced to do the same by Sarah.

"And she didn't warn me," Vicki thought.

Vicki had a moment of desperate clarity. She needed Sarah. A sister who loved her, who would look out for her. But she couldn't trust her now. Vicki was trapped.

How much of her suffering was the organization and how much was Liz? Maybe they didn't know all the cruelties. If they knew, they would stop it right?

"I'll be OK," Vicki cut it off. Let the feeling die. Let this discussion die. No more reflecting on poor old Vicki.

McKayla started to get up.

"Liz said something odd the other day," Vicki said.

"Yeah?"

"She was going on in her normal angry way, and she said something about figging. Like it was a punishment?" Vicki's words were racing ahead of her mind, but she couldn't stop. She needed to know how complicit McKayla, hell even Sarah, were in this.

McKayla stopped. "Why are you asking?"

"Well I googled it, and it's like a... torture method for slaves. Wikipedia--"

"Vicki... Jesus, where to begin?" McKayla had something to say but needed time to find it. "The threats about the firewall, about secrecy, putting girls on trial, about punishment-- it's not a bluff."

McKayla kind of stared off in to space for a moment.

"Liz didn't rush at this sorority. She pledged at another university. In the program. I don't know the details, but she got in trouble. Broke the code," McKayla said. "She didn't tell me everything, but we used to be close. And... Liz got to stay in the program but she had to make amends. Had to show she was serious."

"The figging," Vicki said.

"Yeah," McKayla said. "What I'm going to say sounds terrible, and I guess it is terrible. Part of her punishment... the council stripped her naked. They put ginger in her. She had to fuck them all or otherwise please them before she could take it out. Liz was... she just said how much it hurt. It hurt so bad that she stopped caring who fucked her. She was going to do anything to get through it. So she did."

"Jesus," Vicki said. She did her best to feign interest in the story, and it was interesting in a way, but Vicki had already put most of it together. It was amazing how much thinking you could get done when you were licking someone's asshole.

"Vicki, if Liz is hinting around at this story, it may actually be a good thing. It means she trusts you, that she wants you to stay out of trouble. She... uh... we aren't really friends any more. If she wants to confide in you, you might want to listen. It'd be good for both of you."

It occurred to Vicki that McKayla was once a good person. Maybe she still was.

"Yeah," Vicki said. "I'll see how I can help."

So McKayla wasn't in on it. She knew parts of Vicki's story, knew that they had turned her into a sushi table and fucked her, but she also felt bad about it. She probably didn't know about the ginger or how it burned so much that Vicki had begged them to fuck her in the ass just to make it stop. It meant maybe Vicki could trust her. Maybe she could trust Sarah.

It wasn't much but it was something.

--

Vicki and Frank let their other classes suffer for a few days, but they got the work done. The presentation was rounding in to shape. Vicki was good at this. It felt nice to be good at something.

And Frank was there, always there. Helping. Attentive. He wanted so desperately to fuck her but did his very best to hide it. He wanted to be polite about it, respect her boundaries.

In another life or another time, she would have wanted to fuck him right back. But not now.

"Hey," Vicki said.

Anyway, it was forbidden. Her first violation had been coerced. She just couldn't prove it. Even if she wanted to fuck him, breaking the code now would be suicide.

And something occurred to her. When had she had stopped fighting back? Liz set her up. She just needed to prove it. Jesus Vicki, get your shit together. This wasn't rocket science. She just had to think.

"Yeah?" Frank asked. Those attentive eyes were searching her face for every minuscule hint of desire.

There was still hope to get out from under this mess. She needed to plead her case, tell the truth, find an angle, find evidence. She was a victim.

"You want to get dinner?" Vicki asked.

--

Hours later, Vicki walked back to her dorm. Finally satisfied.

Not sexually, despite the fact that her pussy was full of Frank's come. The sex hadn't lasted long, but that was probably a good thing. Vicki relived her evening, feeling a raw mix of satisfaction and guilt.

They went back to his place after dinner. His roommate was out. She stripped in front of him, turning her back while she peeled off her shirt and unhooked her bra. When she turn around, his face lit up like Christmas morning.

When he tried to kiss her, she diverted. She ran her hand along his cock, and said she wanted more than his lips.

Then he was fumbling with his clothes. Vicki stepped out of her skirt. He undid his belt. She left her panties in a puddle at her feet.

"You are so hot," he told her.

Vicki found a clear spot along the wall, within arms reach. She turned to face it, pressing her hands into the wall, spreading her legs, and arching her back-- pushing her ass out toward him, letting him see all of her.

"I've waited too long," Vicki lied. "I need you inside of me. Right now."

"I have protection--"

"I'm on the pill, and I can't wait," Vicki said.

Frank was frozen for just a moment.

Then he peeled off his pants and underwear. His cock sprung loose immediately. It was long and veiny, just like the rest of him. Vicki put her face against the wall, confident he was caught in her gravity.

Vicky really didn't want to break her friendship with Frank, but she wanted to hurt Liz. Her body was a precious commodity to Liz and a group of invisible, rich men.

She was going to ruin it.

"Vicki," he said from behind her. He sounded hesitant.

"Please Frank, I finally realized how much you mean to me," she lied again. "These last few days have been torture. Don't talk. Just fill me and stretch me. I want you to find the bottom of me. Please."

Those words did it. She heard his breathing and felt him approach. One hand on her hip, the other lining his cock up against her. He was long and thick, and she wasn't quite ready. He pushed it in as commanded, Vicki not wet enough, uncomfortable friction that she owned. She asked for this.

Vicki hoped he was as long and thick as he felt, hoped his cock would ruin her for the next limp-dick millionaire.

"That's it," she said. He pushed against her resistance. Always deeper.

"Oh god Vicki, you feel so good," he said.

Vicki pressed her cheek against the cool wall as he slid deeper and deeper in to her, until his cock was pressing uncomfortably against her insides. He'd reached her limit. His hips weren't against her.

"You are so big," she said. The words were true, but the sexuality in her voice was a lie. "Fuck me Frank. Don't stop."