Ivy League at Any Cost Pt. 13

"I wasn't that drunk," Janette said. She sounded sad.

Margarette made eye contact with Liz, noticed she was dying to interject.

"We'll get to you in a moment," Margarette said to Liz. "You weren't drinking?"

"Oh I was drinking, but it takes... a lot to get me drunk," she said.

"So you saw Liz and Steve take your friend off to be assaulted, and you did... nothing?"

Janette looked at the ground, the weight of the question crushed her. It was the grudge that Vicki had been carrying for weeks, the one she had tried to let go.

Vicki shut her eyes. This wasn't Janette's fault.

"I didn't know," Janette said. "There was so much I didn't understand. I just thought he was helping her walk to bed. She couldn't..."

Janette audibly sucked in snot from her runny nose. Tears were welling up in her eyes, but hadn't yet broken lose.

"She was too drunk to walk," Janette said.

"And you remember all of this?" Margarette asked.

"Yeah. Yes," Janette said, finding her voice, finding her anger. "I wish I didn't."

"But you weren't drunk?" Margarette asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"That's bullshit, she drank a fifth of--" Liz started.

"Liz, if you speak again out of turn, I will gag you. I believe we have a spare one available. Do. you. understand?" Margarette interrupted.

Janette looked pissed. "How drunk do you think I am now?"

Margarette stopped, letting her control slip for just a minute. Vicki could see her making a decision, whether to humor Janette or reassert control.

"Not very, why?"

"Give me a breathalyzer," she said. "You don't have to take my word for it."

"We don't have a breathalyzer. If you had been drinking to excess, how can we trust your memory?"

"I have one," Sarah said.

"What?"

"I have a breathalyzer," Sarah said again.

Margarette's posture stiffened. She stared straight at the two way mirror. It was obviously some kind of strategy cooked up by Sarah, and Margarette had to decide what to do about it.

Sarah held it up, to Margarette, to the glass.

"What is your point here?" Margarette asked.

"I told you that alcohol doesn't affect me," Janette said. "You don't have to take my word for it, we can prove it."

"Fine," Margarette said. "Sarah blow in it."

Vicki's sister stuck the plastic tube in her mouth and gave it a heaving breath. She held it up. It read 0.02-- some alcohol but not drunk.

"I had a glass of wine," Sarah said.

Margarette took the device and gave it to Janette.

Janette turned it over in her hands, inspecting it, almost like a professional, as if she was judging it against all the other breathalyzers she had held over the years.

She filled her lungs, put the tube to her lips, and blew.

Vicki couldn't take her eyes off of this beautiful woman.

The device read 0.12 percent alcohol. Vicki wasn't an expert, but Janette had given her a primer the night before.

0.12 percent was drunk, probably too drunk to walk, nearly unconscious, and yet Janette was... fine. Her cheeks were just a bit flushed, subdued by the extra layer of makeup they had applied that morning.

Margarette's eyes narrowed, like she had watched a magic trick and was trying to untangle it.

"This is bullshit," Liz said. Margarette stared at her again and Liz cowed. Vicki craved to see Liz gagged, to see her struggle like Vicki had, but Margarette was lost, trying to understand their trick.

She put the detector to her lips and blew. It read 0.00. Margarette looked at Janette, a question on her lips.

"I've been pounding shots since I got here. You ever been up in the north country? Wisconsin, Minnesota?" Janette leaned so far in to her accent she sounded Canadian.

"You're not going to puke on a client are you?"

"I'll be fine," Janette said.

Vicki watched Margarette struggle to change gears, to take the discussion back to the original path.

"Anything else to add?" Margarette asked.

Janette turned to Vicki and said, "I'm sorry."

Margarette turned back to Vicki.

"So the point of that is that you were coerced," Margarette said.

"Yes," Vicki said.

"That it?"

"Afterward, Liz blackmailed me, forcing me in to degrading activities, including sex outside of the program. Two weeks ago, she lured me to an empty office building, where four men..." Deep breath Vicki, "Where for men raped me," Vicki said. She had done an incredible job holding it together until now. Tears were in her eyes when she said, "They did it because I look like my sister."

Margarette looked at the glass for a moment, then back to Sarah.

"This is true?"

"Yeah," Sarah said, choking it off at one word.

"And these were clients?" Margarette asked.

"No," Sarah said.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have listened?" Sarah said. She stared past Margarette, at the glass. It was an accusation.

Liz looked panicked. There was a side conversation going on that she didn't quite follow, and that was dangerous.

"And you found them?"

"Yes," Sarah said.

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing that will get back to the House," Sarah said.

"This is a fucking mess," Margarette said. She ran her fingers through her hair. "Any thing else?" she asked Vicki.

Vicki wanted to put something in to words, the suffering, abuse, not knowing, the pain. She struggled to find a way to express just how much hurt they had caused.

"No," she said.

"McKayla," Margarette said. "Explain yourself."

"I didn't know this was going on," she said. "Liz made comments, racist statements. She seemed to be extra focused on humiliating Vicki, but it seemed within the normal scope of rush. I didn't know about their history."

"Where were you on the night in question?"

"I was out. I had... I was going through a breakup. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"You neglected your duties," Margarette said.

"Yes," McKayla said. "In retrospect, it's possible Liz forced the breakup, that she was at root of it. I'll never know."

"You should have been at that party," Margarette said.

"Yes," McKayla said.

"Anything else to add?"

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

Margarette cycled through the room, staring at each girl, pondering. Then she left the room again.

Things had gone perfectly. Margarette seemed to be on Vicki's side, or at least seemed to acknowledge she was telling the truth.

But Vicki was nervous. The people behind the glass wanted her to be guilty.

Margarette stormed back in the room, a combination of a shirt and pants folded over her arm. She approached Vicki first. It took all of Vicki's willpower not to flinch as she approached. The older woman undid Vicki's handcuffs.

"Put these clothes on," she told Vicki. She didn't have privacy and there were no panties, but she would take it. Even when they fit poorly she was grateful.

Liz looked horrified.

"OK, here's what happens," she said. "Liz, take off you clothes."

"What?" Liz was outraged. "She's the one who--"

"Not. Another. Fucking. Word," Margarette said. She stared in to Liz.

Liz started unbuttoning her shirt. Vicki should have enjoyed the shift in power, to see Liz dominated, but she was too busy hanging on Margarette's every tic.

Margarette folded Liz's wrists over and applied Vicki's cuffs. Liz's eyes were wild. It felt gratifying, finally seeing Liz in bondage.

Vicki had spent so much time being degraded by Liz, but now that Liz was tied up, rendered harmless, Vicki could tell herself the truth. She hated Liz but found her immensely attractive. She was the right combination of lean muscle and feminine grace.

"I'll get back to you," Margarette said to Liz.

"McKayla, there will be consequences, up to the termination of your sorority and scholarship. Honestly we need time to figure out the best damage control strategy. If someone takes the fall, it will be you. Hazing gone wrong," Margarette said.

"I understand," McKayla said.

"You are not a scapegoat," Margarette said. "If we close it up, it will be your fault. You allowed this to happen."

McKayla nodded. It seemed to satisfy Margarette.

"Vicki," she began.

Here it was. The threat of imminent torture loomed, but more than anything Vicki wanted to be heard, for a group of people to recognize the terrible things they had done to her, to recognize and make it right.

"I'm sorry," Margarette said. "You traded your body for entrance and tuition at an elite university, with the understanding and consent that you would be having sex with strangers, sex in a controlled environment under specific rules. This is a not difficult concept to understand. We did not honor that agreement. I apologize."

"Liz, we are drawing up the papers for your expulsion now. If you fight us, we will press charges. Hazing is a crime these days. You can walk away, or accept your punishment," Margarette said.

Liz put her head down. She didn't speak.

"Quite frankly, there are no third chances here. Your only hope is that we have a bunch of very entitled people who had penciled in fucking Vicki raw. They are willing to make concessions to use you instead," Margarette said. "Simply put, your body has value to me."

Liz raised her chin, defiant rage shone in her eyes. "Do your worst," she said.

"Very well," Margarette said. She left the room, and came back almost immediately, rolling a cart.

It reminded Vicki of a movie, the scene where the interrogator wheels in his torture implements. It wasn't far from the truth. On the cart was a vast array of sex toys. Dildos, buttplugs, crops, whips, and things she didn't even recognize.

And peeled ginger, sculpted in to the shape of a buttplug.

Margarette pressed up against Liz, snaking her fingers through the blonde woman's hair and lowered her down to the table, face against steel. Liz was bent over, exposed, and vulnerable, like Vicki had been so many times.

"As the aggrieve party, you can be the first to punish her," Margarette said. "Quite frankly, her offense is so terrible, nothing is off limits."

A new kind of weight fell on Vicki. The air felt thick.

Vicki looked down at the spread of sex toys, triggering memories of abuse. Dildos and being measured, paddles and forced blow jobs, the feeling of lashes on her body, real and imagined.

Liz was bent over, her ass exposed, her hamstrings tight and defined. Vicki felt a thrill, the idea that after so much time, Liz was hers. Not just to punish, but to do... anything.

"Except your body," Margarette said.

"What?" Vicki asked. She was safe now, what did they want with her body?

"She cannot kiss or lick your body. We must protect the clients."

Vicki felt the violence from the Presentation more than she remembered it. Disgust and pain and anger and helplessness. Liz could have killed her. Vicki couldn't touch Liz because she was a threat, because the specter of disease--

Don't think.

Vicki just stood for a moment, lost in possibility and memory.

She made a decision.

"We've all been punished enough," Vicki said. She walked around and looked Liz in the eyes. Liz was defiant. That face that had hurt her and humiliated her. Her cruel smile was gone but those eyes said that she would do it again. "Just make sure she can't hurt anyone else. Jail maybe, I don't care. Just take me home."

"That's not how this works," Margarette said. "Whether by your hand or another, punishment is coming."

Vicki looked down at Liz. It was outside of her control. Liz would make it, or she wouldn't. Vicki was beyond searching for retribution, she was past being thrilled by the suffering of another, no matter how much they deserved it.

"I'm sorry," she said.

--

EPILOGUE

Years later.

The House wrapped their potential liability up in a diversion. The girls were just the victim of individual bad actors, hazing gone wrong. It happens. There were NDAs and cash settlements. Vicki got to keep her scholarship, and even received a lump sum payment, but her connections and network disappeared.

It was a blessing.

Vicki's shoulders were tired. Too much time spent hunched over a computer writing brief after brief after brief. Claire would be home waiting for her. The elevator couldn't go fast enough.

Her relationship with Janette had been passionate and wonderful, but they weren't compatible. Janette was uninhibited, willing to add or subtract partners as the mood struck her. Vicki was monogamous, and jealous, and damaged. It had crushed her when she realized the two of them weren't meant to be. She got over it. Eventually.

Janette had passed through her life several times over the years. They often found themselves in bed together, falling into old patterns.

But that had to stop, now that Vicki had Claire.

Vicki smiled, thinking of the woman waiting for her, just seconds away.

Vicki took off her glasses and squeezed her eyes shut. Vicki was... happy? No. Satisfied. It had taken years of therapy to get to this place. The therapy helped, but that wasn't the source of her satisfaction today.

The grand jury handed out another round of indictments. Vicki was an assistant US Attorney working what would surely become the most infamous sex trafficking case in United States history. It had taken time and leverage, but Margarette had flipped. Vicki's boss was about to become famous. Hell, he might even become president one day.

Vicki knew Sarah didn't agree with her decision to destroy the House and the people behind it, and she obviously should never have told her about the investigation in the first place. But Sarah was her sister, and she loved her.

Sarah assured her that she was a victim, just like Vicki. If Sarah had been involved, if she had been a ring leader or trafficker, what would Vicki have done? She didn't know. Fortunately she would never have to know.

In any case, Sarah didn't tell her to stop fighting. She just told Vicki to be prepared for the blowback when it came for her. It was good advice. There had been difficult times along the way, where Vicki's physical safety or political safety were not guaranteed.

But not after today. Most of these men would die of natural causes, hiding in a 3rd world country or on appeal, but she couldn't control that. At least the world would know the truth.

Vicki finally felt safe.

The elevator dinged, and Vicki covered the short distance to the apartment where she found her love waiting.

Vicki loved Claire. She wasn't completely comfortable saying it, but every day it got easier. Claire was capable and kind, almost handsome more than beautiful-- except for those eyes. Vicki could always fall into those green eyes. More than her looks or her laugh or her unending love and support, she was just a good match. Whatever they had together just sort of worked.

Vicki put her stuff down and kissed Claire on the lips, more ceremonial than sexual. Quick. Hello.

"Is it done?" Claire asked.

"Yeah," Vicki said.

Claire's face lit up.

"I'll get the champagne," she said.

It wasn't that kind of celebration, but Vicki didn't have the heart to tell her. Vicki put her feet up, sipped her drink. Her shoulders were sore.

Claire sat on the Ottoman next to her legs, and started rubbing her feet. She could read Vicki and had an idea about the complex layers of emotions, even if she didn't exactly understand them.

"What can I do?" she asked.

Vicki took a deep breath. There was a lot to process. Liz and Janette and Sarah and all the terrible things that had happened to Vicki and girls like her. Liz was cruel and dangerous but also a victim.

Vicki had lost track of Liz after the trial, on purpose. She later ran in to her on the cover of a magazine, "40 under 40." She was the Vice President of a Fortune 500 company.

"I just don't want to feel... anything tonight," she said.

Claire looked up at her, green eyes asking a question.

"You're sure?"

Vicki nodded. "I need it to hurt."

Claire put Vicki's feet to the side. Vicki watched her girlfriend process, going through the mental gymnastics to become the person Vicki would need her to be.

"OK," she said. "Wait for me in the bedroom while I get ready."

Vicki stood up. She took off her clothes, in the living room, in front of Claire. She felt like being vulnerable. Claire raised an eyebrow but didn't stop her.

Vicki waiting for Claire's gaze, basking in the attention, knowing that her girlfriend liked what she saw. Vicki had put on a few pounds since the sorority days, but she was still beautiful, sexy even. Along the way she stopped shaving and let her pubes grow out. Long enough to be wild but not so long as to cause trouble.

But most of all she was comfortable. She knew what she wanted and stopped feeling guilty about it.

"Bedroom. Now." Claire said.

Vicki sauntered to the bedroom, confident that Claire's eyes followed her ass the whole way. Claire would need a moment to find the cruelty necessary to do what what came next.

Vicki found the handcuffs and put them on. She found the hook in the closet. It was inconspicuous, almost like it was for hanging clothes, but not quite. She looped her cuffs over the hook. Vicki was just barely tall enough to reach it. She had to stand on her toes which tightened her calves and stretched her body. Claire liked it this way. In her wilder moments, Claire would say the pose made her want to fuck Vicki. Not make love.

And she waited, anticipation building. Even before Claire came to her, she was turned on, ready for sex, but wanting to be denied.

Vicki kept her back turned to the door, so she felt Claire before she saw her.

"I'm going take you right here, like this, all tied up and vulnerable. I'm going to fill your ass and fuck you until you collapse," Claire whispered. Her lips were right against Vicki's ear. It almost tickled. "Would you like that?"

Vicki let her imagination run wild for a moment before croaking a simple, "Yes."

"How will you earn it?" Claire whispered again.

"Pain," Vicki said.

"Of what sort?"

"The belt," Vicki said.

"Very well,"

"Claire?" Vicki asked.

"Yes?"

"Only stop when you hear a safeword," Vicki said.

There was a long pause.

"I understand," Claire said. She sounded sad. Vicki knew she'd get over it.

Then it started. The strokes were vicious from the get go. It was what Vicki asked for, what she needed. She wanted to feel the lash on her naked body. The hits started on her ass, and moved around between her upper back and thighs.

Vicki counted each stroke. The blows were hard enough to rattled her sense of self, so that every cell in her body was focusing and anticipating and surviving the pain.

"Spread your legs," Claire commanded. Vicki followed orders.

Claire circled around her, tracing her fingers across her welts, amplifying the stinging pain running through her body, only stopping when she looked Vicki in the eyes. Claire's expression was... different. Cruel.

Vicki loved this beautiful woman who accepted her as she was, who was willing to change and explore and role play and to hurt her because it was what Vicki needed.

She felt Claire's strong hands on her pussy, kneading and stroking the way Vicki liked. It was wrong. Vicki didn't want to be indulged, to be touched in the way she liked, she needed the cruelty, but she said nothing. Claire needed things too, even if it was only a chance to bring a dash of her own desire to treat her love with tenderness, even when Vicki had no room for kindness or good intentions.

Vicki felt a finger slide in. It felt good, great. They were just getting started and she was ready. She needed Claire to fuck her.

"How does that feel?" Claire asked. She had her cruel voice on, the character.

"Fuck you," Vicki said. The anger felt real, she needed to feel it. Not at Claire, at... everything.

Claire spent more moments massaging Vicki from the inside, pleasure building until Vicki absently leaned in to it, shifting her hips to follow Claire's fingers.