Ivy League at Any Cost Pt. 11

He kissed her on the neck and put his hands around her waist. His fingers were long and strong, wrapping around her body, almost meeting in the middle. In another life, she would have liked it.

This wasn't sex. This was vandalism. Vicki wanted Frank to tie her up, to spit on her or hit her, to leave a mark. But she knew better than to ask. She was already on thin ice, just barely getting him to fuck her raw against the wall.

She let her imagination carry her through the sex, creating a scenario in her head, some Nathaniel Hawthorne shit. But instead of wearing a scarlet letter, the villagers just tied her up in the middle of town. They called her a whore, then fucked her as punishment. Each man filling her with come while their wives looked on jealous, and even when her body was done, they kept going. Vicki lived in that fantasy, until the pain from imaginary sex lined up with the feeling of Frank's cock boring inside of her.

The fantasy and the cock inside of her mixed into something... pleasant. Not an orgasm, but enough to keep him lubricated and her protected.

Then he was shaking, his strong hands gripping her uncomfortably tight, his cock pressing too hard into her, jerking and spasming.

"Oh god!" Vicki said.

He groaned behind her. His whole body tensed for a moment, then collapsed against her. His lips were on her neck and around her ear. Licking and kissing.

The kisses made her skin crawl. She wanted to tell him to stop, but knew better than to break the illusion.

She hung out for as long as she could stand, long enough for him to play with her nipple while they laid in bed. Vicki counted the seconds until she could leave, while Frank built their future life together in his innocent mind.

And then Vicki left.

She walked home in the cool night. Her hair was a mess and she was full of come. She hated herself, and soon Frank would hate her too, but Vicki found herself smiling.

She had broken the rules, had slept with an unverified person, was beyond the firewall. Vicki had defied Liz and the House. It wasn't coercion or blackmail this time. She did it, not because she wanted to fuck Frank, but because she could.

Vicki didn't own her body any more. It belonged to Liz now. It was property and Vicki no longer had the keys. But she could kick out the windows and spray paint the walls. They couldn't stop her. Not Liz. Not the Council. Fuck them.

--

Liz drove them both in to the city. Vicki tried not to think about how their last adventure together had ended.

Just being so close to Liz made her uncomfortable. The tender moment with McKayla actually did humanize Liz a little, but it didn't really matter if you saw your torturer as human. Maybe it was worse.

Vicki tried a few times to discuss the presentation, but Liz wasn't interested. Vicki had the distinct impression that she'd be handling all of it by herself.

That was fine with her.

Vicki dressed professional but attractive. Her shirt was a bit too low cut, but her dark jacket made it tasteful. Liz even allowed her to wear a bra.

They stopped on the outskirts of the city then took a train downtown, exiting among scores of skyscrapers, most of them nondescript. It was a maze of impossibly tall buildings.

Most of the lights were off and foot traffic had largely stopped. It felt like a movie, the moment right before the zombies attack.

Liz walked them to one of the skyscrapers, and used a keycard to pass the empty front desk. They took an elevator to the ninth floor and exited into an office. The ceilings were low and most of the lights were off. Only the main area and a conference room in the back were illuminated.

"This is our stop," Liz said. She lead Vicki to the back conference room. The only sound was the quiet crunch of their feet on thin carpet.

The meeting was strange from the beginning. There were four men, all under forty. They knew Liz. She introduced Vicki, and told them that she would be leading the presentation.

Their eyes were on her immediately, following her breasts more than her eyes. It felt wrong. Felt like a job for the House.

Her heart was racing. "Just nerves," she told herself. She was good at this. Vicki would assert control.

Liz loaded the presentation then sat with the boys. Vicki stood in front of a monitor and started to talk.

"Thank you everyone for joining us. I'm very excited to be here tonight. Liz and I have worked hard to put this presentation together..." Vicki started. The men looked disinterested. A few whispers back and forth. One of them was in Liz's ear. The few that paid attention to Vicki were only looking at her breasts.

"Um, this presentation," Vicki clicked to the next slide. "We did a bottom up analysis of your business position, your competition, and available acquisition targets."

The screen showed a sleek graph summarizing their cashflow, available capital, and borrowing base. All the information needed to make a big move.

"Is this for real?" the lead man asked, more to Liz than to Vicki. She was so bad with names. Was it Joe? No, not Joe. Hank?

"Excuse me," Vicki said. "Was there a question?"

"You're boring me," he said.

Vicki's heart sank. This presentation wasn't random. She had to build on a foundation of concepts. If she lost him on the summary then...

"Take off your shirt," he said.

"What?"

"Bra too," he continued. "You can keep the jacket though. It's kind of sexy."

She looked to Liz, to those cruel eyes and smile.

Vicki closed her eyes. She wasn't religious, but she would have prayed to be anywhere else in the universe. She was alone in a conference room, with a woman who wanted to torture her and a group of guys who wanted to fuck her.

"You heard him," Liz said.

Vicki's hands started to shake. She could run. Liz would turn her in and then what? Punishment at the best, exile at worst.

Even before she had decided what to do, her hands were working to take off her blouse. It took longer than it should have, her hands shaking so bad she could barely work the buttons.

Vicki turned around, taking off her shirt and bra with her back turned. There were scattered hoots, like it was a burlesque show, like they didn't mind the teasing because it was all coming off eventually. Vicki put her jacket back on before turning back around. Her stomach and cleavage were visible, but at least her breasts were hidden.

"Do continue," Liz said.

The presentation. Vicki looked at the screen. Cashflow. Acquisitions. She clicked to the next slide.

"As you can see, your debt level is low relative to your..." she made eye contact. Mistake.

RUN. Her body shouted. She ignored her body.

She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"Whats wrong Vicki?" Liz asked. "Lose your nerve? How will you ever get an internship if you can't stand some heckling."

"Your debt level is low compared to competitors. Speaking frankly, if you don't buy a competitor, you face the very real prospect of..."

"Take your skirt off," the leader said.

"Think of this as practice," Liz said. "If you can get through this presentation, you can get through anything. The rest of your life will be a breeze."

It was a lie, but Vicki leaned in to it. She swallowed. Her throat was so dry. She did what they said. She lowered her skirt. Her panties were dark, not sexy but not unsexy either. The men looked at each other and smiled.

"The very real prospect of a hostile takeover," she said.

"You know she licks my asshole? Almost daily," Liz said. "She claims she doesn't like it, but she does."

Run. Run. Run. RUN.

"Turn around," a man said. "I want to see your ass."

Vicki followed orders again. Why did she always do what they told her?

"You know, I thought you were full of shit, but I can see the resemblance. She looks just like her sister," he said.

"What?" Vicki said. Anger seared her body, overwhelming her feelings of shame and helplessness.

"But not as hot," Liz said.

"Oh I don't know, let's see more before we make up our minds," he said.

Vicki looked at the man. She struggled to keep her composure, struggled to speak without emotion leaking through her voice. Confidence was all she had left. It was her only hope.

"You know my sister?"

"Sarah? Yeah, I know her. Used to work for her. Spent a lot of hours together. Late nights," he said. "I never did get to fuck her though, but it's OK. I think I'm going to enjoy her sister even more anyway. Now why don't you come over here and sit on my lap?"

Vicki looked at Liz. She wouldn't beg, couldn't be weak. Not now.

"Here's the thing about Vicki, and I speak from experience," Liz said, ignoring Vicki. "The more she pretends not to like it, the more she does, and the more it hurts, the wetter she gets. Don't take my word for it though. Give her a try."

Vicki slipped out of her shoes.

Every bit of this was planned. Preordained. They were all in on it. Eyes like wolves, ready to fuck her sister, settling for the next best thing. Surely they weren't in the program. They knew Sarah by name. This was something separate. Revenge.

"This isn't House business Liz," Vicki said. "You do this and there is no coming back for us."

"It's a good thing no one will know," she said. Then smiled.

Instinct took over. No more words, no more thoughts. Vicki bolted, sprinting along the edge of the wall around the men, racing toward the exit.

Vicki never really had a chance. Strong arms grabbed her as she ran by, picked her up by the shoulders and slammed her onto the conference room table.

The impact knocked the breath out of her. Rough hands ripped off her panties, and cool air flooded over her body. They pulled her hips away from the table for better access.

"Please don't" she said, gasping for breath.

"You don't have to pretend any more Vicki," Liz said. "We know you like it. We can feel it."

--

Years earlier. Vicki saw herself reading outside in the sun. A nerd. Even back then she was beautiful. Why hadn't she been able to see it?

"When you get arrested, they take you phone," Sarah said.

"Well thanks for that information," Vicki said. She tried to ignore her rebel older sister. Sarah had never been arrested...that Vicki knew of. It was a miracle they even had the same parents. Maybe the age gap explained some of their differences. Vicki made a mental note for later research.

"Don't put my number in to your phone," Sarah said. "That's a crutch. You need to memorize it, so when you get in real trouble, you don't have to rely on something that the MAN can take from you."

"Yeah whatever," Vicki said. Typical Sarah bullshit. Show how cool she is by the rules she breaks (or pretends to break).

Vicki hadn't even bothered to put her sister's number in her phone yet. She already knew it by heart, having relied on her sister for years, way before she had a cell phone of her own.

Vicki pushed the contact menu on her phone, and opened a new entry. She named it "Sarah" instead of "Sister." She put the phone number in and held it up for her sister to see.

"Jesus you are prickly," Sarah said. "If you really wanted to hurt my feelings, you should have asked me for it first, pretended that you didn't already have it memorized."

"Fuck off," Vicki said.

--

Vicki smelled the egg drop soup more than she tasted it. She wasn't hungry, but it smelled nice. Behind her, an older couple were arguing about whether to call the police or to let this girl sit longer. She was in a take-out Chinese restaurant. The lobby was small and was empty except for Vicki and the couple.

Vicki felt a slick wetness between her thighs. It didn't register as good or bad. Just a thing. An observation.

She slurped some soup. Also, where were her panties?

Vicki realized she didn't know where she was, what time it was, or how she got there. Odd.

Something had happened. Something bad. Vicki didn't quite remember what it was. She didn't really want to remember. She decided to keep smelling her soup.

"Miss," the older man said. He was a little round and had concerned eyes. "Is there someone we can call?"

She realized that the nice old man wasn't speaking English. He was speaking... Mandarin? She understood it. The old man certainly looked Chinese. Maybe Vicki was Chinese too.

Her body was tired. Even lifting the little plastic spoon felt difficult.

"I don't have my phone," she said back. Hey, she spoke Mandarin. Neat!

Why didn't she have her phone? Procedure. The girls always left their phones at the house before going on a call. Safer for the clients that way.

Her hands started shaking. Egg drop soup slopped over the side of her spoon. Vicki dropped it before she could set it down, flicking yellow liquid across the table.

Don't think, don't think, don't think.

It didn't work.

Flashes of what had happen. What the men had done to her. This time she hadn't pretended to like it. She told them to stop.

They didn't.

Strong hands holding her down, too large cocks inside of her. More than one. The whole time they were calling her Sarah. Held down on a conference room table and used. Whispers in her ear explaining years of frustration, happy to finally use Sarah's body.

Vicki threw up all over the table.

"I'm sorry," Vicki said. "I'm sorry."

Her world was spiraling out of control. Yellow throw-up in this nice couple's restaurant, dripping off the rounded edges of the cheap plastic table.

"I'm calling the police," the older woman said.

She had to stop them. The police were bad. She didn't know why.

"No," she told the nice elderly couple. "I have someone to call."

She couldn't stop shaking. Vicki knew she had to get her shit together or this good natured couple was going to ruin her life even more.

"My sister," she said. Sarah was involved in this. She didn't know exactly how, but all things pointed back to her. The sister who she bickered with and was jealous of for years. The one who didn't fight hard enough when Vicki decided to ruin her own life.

The memory of the afternoon sun was still so fresh. A simpler time. Her mom would tell her to stay out of trouble. But Sarah never told her to stay away from trouble. Her big sister told her just to be prepared when it comes.

She turned to the sweet elderly couple and recited her sister's phone number from memory.