Goddess And Miss Jasmine Pt 04

I woke up the next morning cold, wet, naked, and sore all over. Sasha's brutal kicks that I'd barely felt as I struggled to breath had blossomed into hideous bruises over night and sleeping in the shower stall certainly hadn't helped matters. In retrospect, it's surprising I didn't get sick sleeping in the wet shower but overall I was just miserable.

I studied my reflection in the mirror and found myself covered in bruises. My arms and legs were a mottled mess of purple and my butt was practically black with bruises. My stomach just had one big bruise from Sasha's initial punch. Only my face seemed to be free of her marks but even that seemed a bit redder than usual. Though I wasn't sure if the color was from her slaps, my embarrassment, or just from being cold.

I wrapped myself in a towel to dry off and hopefully warm up a little but even the soft terry cloth towel seemed rough and inflamed my bruises.

I listened carefully at the bathroom door until I was sure Sasha wasn't in our dorm-room before unlocking the door and emerging into our bedroom. My eyes were drawn to the dirty cock still sitting on my pillow and I nearly had a panic attack just looking at it. Suddenly the thought of staying in that room terrified and repulsed me so I quickly grabbed some clothes and pulled them on ignoring the pain as the cloth rubbed against my skin. I hardly paid any attention to what I was putting on other than to make sure it covered my bruises.

I practically fled the room, I was so desperate to get away.

I aimlessly wandered about campus for a long time with my head down not talking to anyone as I tried to come to terms with what had happened the night before. I was too full of nervous energy to stop or sit still and honestly, I think tiring myself out from hours of walking is what kept me focused enough to not have a complete breakdown. I don't know how long exactly but it was several hours at least.

It was afternoon when suddenly I saw one of the emergency call buttons scattered around campus. I'd seen them every day since moving into the dorm and must have passed it a hundred times in my wandering but suddenly it gave me an idea. Go to security and tell them what happened!

I know that would have been the first thought of any objective observer, but I was just so traumatized that it took my brain hours to come up with the solution it would normally reach in seconds. It may seem like a pathetic excuse, but please understand, my brain couldn't handle the reality of what had happened to me and it coped with the trauma by basically shutting down. I suppose it's better than the alternative: going insane.

I'd never been to the security office before but luckily there was a helpful map posted next to the button that pointed it out. I hurried to the office and when I arrived, I found a bored looking woman in a security uniform sitting at the front desk. She barely even glanced at me as she asked what I wanted.

I just kinda froze up at her question. I didn't know how to explain. Finally, she looked up from her computer and saw how scared I was and asked again in a gentler tone. I managed to stammer that I'd been assaulted and wanted to file charges.

The guard seemed a lot more sympathetic once she knew I had a real problem instead of a petty complaint and she asked if I had any marks or bruises. I nodded my head and she said to follow her.

She brought me to a small room with a camera pointed to a wall with height marks on it. It looked like a place they'd take mugshots and for a moment I was irrationally afraid I was being arrested. The guard told me it was important to document everything because the marks might have faded before a court date and we'd want proof to put my attacker behind bars. She asked where the marks were and I told her they were all over.

I started crying as the guard told me I'd have to strip so she could take pictures and document all the marks. I was scared and humiliated all over again, but the guard was nothing but kind and supportive. She kept up a running commentary of positivity and encouragement as I stripped down to my bra and panties. She told me to stand against the wall as she snapped a few pictures before having me turn so she could get me from every angle.

Then she handed me a ruler and said she needed close-ups of my bruises with the ruler to show their size. It seemed to take forever as she took hundreds of photos of me as evidence. And then, just as I thought we were done, she told me we'd come to the hard part. She could see more marks mostly covered by my underwear and she needed me to get fully naked now so she could document those.

It was too much. After every other humiliation and abuse I'd suffered, losing my last scrap of dignity in front of this stranger was just too much. I sobbed and told her I couldn't, but she insisted that I HAD to.

I told her I'd changed my mind and didn't want to file a report anymore and just wanted to leave but she stopped me. She kept saying I was doing the right thing and just had to be brave and keep pressing forward if I wanted justice. If I left now, my attacker would get away with it and hurt me again or move on to other people. I'm ashamed to admit that the idea of Sasha moving on to other people didn't sound too bad to me as long as she left me alone.

I tried walking away from the guard back to the pile of my clothes but was brought up short when she grabbed my bra-strap and pulled me back. She said she was sorry but that it was for my own good and that I'd thank her one day. I struggled and screamed as the guard pulled my last of my clothing off and pinned me down so she could document the marks on my butt and boobs.

I was a sobbing wreck on the floor as she released me. She brought me my clothes and laid them next to me telling me to take as long as I needed to compose myself and to come find her at the front desk when I was ready to continue.

I don't know how long it took me to cry myself out, but I finally managed to convince myself that the guard knew best. She'd obviously done this before and knew what she was doing. I convinced myself she was just using tough love and that I needed to just push through the process and endure the humiliation like she said if I ever wanted to get closure.

I slowly got dressed and wiped my face and went back out to find the guard. She smiled when she saw me and asked if I'd put on my big-girl panties and was ready to continue. I know she meant well but her condescending language still gets to me even 20 years later as I write this.

I told her I was and she guided me to another room, this one had a small table and a couple chairs. She handed me a pad of paper and told me to write out everything that had happened in as much detail as possible. She warned me that if I left anything out and remembered it later, it'd be hard to convince a judge I wasn't just making it up. Then she left me to write.

My mind was suddenly as blank as the paper. I knew what had happened to me. I knew that I had to tell my story. I just didn't know how to start it. How to translate all the pain and humiliation and suffering into words that others could understand. Just saying I'd been beaten and raped sounded so... tame by comparison to what I'd experienced. These words like "rape" which had seemed so powerful and terrible before now seemed more like a polite euphemism for what had happened to me. But if words like "rape" weren't enough, then what could I actually write?

The guard came back after a few minutes to check on my progress and got annoyed when she saw me staring at a blank page. She asked what was wrong and I truthfully told her I didn't know what to say. She told me that I just had to write what happened and if I wasn't going to take this seriously then I should stop wasting her time.

I was shocked! She'd seen my bruises! She knew what had happened to me in general even if she didn't know the details so why was she suddenly getting so aggressive? I started crying again. It seemed like crying was all I did anymore.

The guard just sighed and said I obviously wasn't ready for this yet. She told me to leave and come back once I'd found my big-girl panties (I hate that phrase) and was ready to deal with it like an adult. She assured me that she'd hold onto the pictures so we wouldn't have to do that part again unless I got new injuries before coming back.

I left the security office with my head hung, ashamed of my own weakness. Why couldn't I just say what happened? I'd already lived it, surely talking about it couldn't be nearly as bad as experiencing it. If I just put pen to paper, Sasha would go to jail and I'd be free. By walking away, I was just giving her the opportunity to do it again. In that moment, I hated myself almost as much as I hated Sasha.

I couldn't bring myself to talk about it, but I was resolved to do something about it so I went straight from the security office to the housing office where I found a bored upperclassman lounging at the desk. He was obviously some sort of work study and couldn't care less about actually helping me.

I told him I needed to change rooms and he asked why. I just told him I couldn't live with my roommate anymore thinking that might be enough but he just smirked and told me I was a big-girl now and needed to learn to work things out with my roommate like a grown-up. I wanted to stand there and argue until he agreed to give me a new room but I knew I wouldn't be able to tell him the truth anymore than I'd been able to write it out.

I was out of options.

I returned to my room and thankfully found it empty. It had been an emotionally exhausting afternoon and I hadn't exactly gotten much sleep in the shower the night before so I was ready to sleep.

I came up short though when I found Sasha's dirty strap-on sitting on my pillow where she'd left it the night before. I'd forgotten about it but now I had to deal with it if I wanted to sleep.

I approached it cautiously as if it might suddenly turn into a snake and tentatively picked it up with 2 fingers. I considered throwing it on Sasha's bed but knew that would just piss her off so instead I brought it to the bathroom and thoroughly cleaned it in the sink. I don't know why I didn't just toss it on the floor or in the trash but instinctively I seemed to know that cleaning it was the best thing to do.

I left it sitting on a towel on the vanity to dry before finally falling into my bed. It didn't occur to me to even flip the pillow before laying my head on it and by the time I thought of it, it seemed too late to actually matter. Even flipping a pillow seem like too much effort as I drifted off to sleep.

I couldn't have been asleep for more than a few minutes though before I was yanked out of bed by my hair. I screamed and struggled but was too disorientated to actually realize what was going on until Sasha had dragged me into the bathroom.

Sasha put me on my knees looking up at her as she demanded to know why I'd locked her out of the bathroom that morning. She'd had to use the disgusting public bathroom instead and hadn't been able to brush her teeth at all. The real reason I'd done it was obvious but I didn't think she'd like that explanation so I stammered something incoherent. Honestly it hadn't even occurred to me that locking myself in the bathroom to get away from her the night before would mean that she couldn't get in to use the bathroom in the morning.

Sasha wasn't happy and I knew I was going to be punished so when she pulled down her pants and underwear I thought she was going to make me eat her out again. I started to cry but she told me to quit my whining and amazingly I was actually able to stop. I guess my body was obeying her even while my mind still wanted to resist.

But instead of pulling me in to lick her, she sat back on the toilet and I was treated to a front row viewing of her peeing. It was gross but after everything else that had happened it didn't even phase me. At least it didn't until she finished and told me to clean her up.

I reached for the toilet paper but she smacked my hand away and told me to use my tongue and lick her clean. It was horrifying but Sasha had already made it abundantly clear that resistance was futile. The only thing trying to get out of it would accomplish would be to earn me a few more bruises so despite my revulsion, I bent forward and tentatively licked the bitter little droplets away from Sasha's pissy pussy.

When I was sure I'd cleaned her, I leaned back and looked up at her. She called me a good girl and said I was finally learning my place. I felt a warm glow of pride at her words and hated myself more than ever because of it.

As Sasha pulled her pants up, I thought we were done but before I knew it, she grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face into the toilet. I fought desperately but I had no leverage and she was just too strong. I panicked and yelled as my face hit the water so I was out of air and had a mouthful of piss-water right from the first moment.

Sasha held me there for so long that my mind was going fuzzy from lack of oxygen. I was fully convinced I was about to drown in my roommate's golden piss when finally, blessedly, Sasha pulled the flush and I was able to grab a quick breath as the water rushed down the drain.

The bowl refilled far quicker than I'd have liked but at least my lungs were filled this time. I heard Sasha joke about rinsing the piss out of my hair as she flushed a few more times before finally letting me up.

I knelt in front of the toilet coughing and gasping for air but Sasha wasn't going to give me time to really recover. She told me I had 3 minutes to clean myself up because we were going out for the evening and she wanted me presentable. On her way out, she casually mentioned that if I ever locked her bathroom door again, she'd make sure I drank nothing but piss for the rest of the semester. There was no doubt in my mind she meant it.

With only 3 minutes, I didn't have time for a shower or really to get ready so I focused on the biggest issue. I stuck my head under the sink's faucet and tried to rinse the piss out of my hair. When I estimated I'd done that for about 2 minutes, I started running a brush through my tangled hair. There was no time for make-up or styling. I was just hoping to not smell like piss and for relatively knot-free hair.

Sasha opened the bathroom door and pulled me out saying my time was up. My top was soaked so she tossed me a sweater and told me to change. As I did so, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The green sweater and nice jeans actually looked pretty good on me and hid all my bruises. To anyone who didn't know what I'd been through, it looked like I was a pretty 18-year-old who just stepped out of the shower.

"Let's go," she said and grabbed me by the arm dragging me out of our room.

Sasha locked elbows with me as she guided me to our destination. Anyone else would see a pair of friends walking together but in reality she had a firm grip on me so I couldn't run away. As we walked, I realized that it was later than I thought, it was already sunset. I wasn't sure if I'd spent longer in the security office than I thought or if I'd slept longer than I thought but either way, one thing was clear: I hadn't eaten all day and I was starving.

I timidly asked Sasha where we were going and if we could stop by the dining hall on the way but she just laughed at that saying it was probably better if I didn't eat.

Sasha led me to Greek Row and we arrived just as the sunset finally faded from the sky. I guess they took sunset to be some sort of signal to start because as we walked down the road, it seemed like every house was starting a party. I could hear music turning on from every house. Lights were coming on and kegs seemed to pop out like garden sprinklers.

It really was interesting seeing the whole street transform in a few minutes like that though of course I was rather distracted and couldn't appreciate it at the time.

I'm not sure if Sasha had a destination when we left our dorm room or if she picked a house at random, but she guided me up the steps to a house a greeted the black man standing at the door. He smiled and told us to go right in. "Ladies drink for free," he assured us.

And true to his word, almost as soon as we walked in, we were each handed a solo cup of beer. Sasha told me to drink up saying it would help. Silly me, I thought by help she meant help fill my belly and make me less hungry. I didn't realize she meant that the alcohol would help me get through what she had in mind for me.

I drained the first cup in just a few minutes and nearly puked it up right after. I'd never had more than a sip of beer at a time before. It was so nasty! And on an empty stomach, I could feel it's effects right away. But before I'd even stopped gagging on that first cup, Sasha handed me hers and told me to drink up. When I hesitated, she looked me right in the eye and told me that I'd want to be drunk as soon as possible. "It's gonna happen either way, so you may as well be too drunk to remember it."

I was too scared to ask what "it" was but I believed her that I wouldn't want to remember "it" so I drained her beer as well and reached for a third.

Most of the rest of the night is a bit blurry. I remember going for another beer (I think my fourth but it could easily have been my fifth) and turning around to find Sasha gone. I had a moment of panic realizing I was drunk and alone before thinking that I had a chance to escape. Both those thoughts were quickly overshadowed though by the realization that I had to pee REALLY badly.

I don't remember finding a bathroom, but I do remember standing in front of the mirror swaying and trying to focus on my own reflection. It was trippy and I felt warm and just generally good. I realized that I liked feeling drunk and started to wonder why I'd never done this before.

As soon as I left the bathroom, Sasha found me. She was with a black guy but I couldn't get my eyes to focus enough to see what he looked like. He's just a vaguely human-shaped blur in my memory. I do remember Sasha handing me yet another cup. I looked in it and thought it was water because it was clear. And probably because I was too drunk to think it could be anything else.

The burn in my throat and my subsequent coughing fit proved that wrong, but it clearly had the intended effect and that's my last memory for a while.

The very next thing I remember is being on my hands and knees dry-heaving into a bucket. The bucket was full of... well I'll leave that to your imagination. Suffice it to say, my stomach felt about a gallon emptier.

I heard a conversation behind me and looked back to see a guy (I assume the same one from before my black-out) talking to Sasha by the door. He handed her some money and walked away.