The sun spilled golden light through the stained-glass windows of the grand auditorium, casting shifting patterns across the polished wooden floor. The air shimmered with an almost sacred reverence, a silent acknowledgment of the years of toil that had led to this moment.
Eleanor Sorensen stood at the foot of the stage, waiting for her name to be called. She was soon to graduate with highest honours in her degree--Social Support and Community Services--a culmination of relentless effort, sleepless nights, and a steadfast belief that she was put on this earth for one purpose: to help others.
As the Grand Chancellor cleared his throat to read the next name, Eleanor's vision blurred--not with nerves, but with memory.
She had learned many things within the walls of lecture halls, but it was beyond them, in the real world, that she had truly understood the magnitude of her calling. It had been during her final work placement, just six months ago, that everything changed.
That night, the call had come in at 9:37 p.m. A young man, Evan, had suffered a panic attack--severe enough that his friends had called for support. When Eleanor arrived at the small apartment, she found six men in various states of unease. Evan sat hunched on the couch, his fingers knotted together, shoulders curled inward as if he wished to fold himself out of existence. His five closest friends lingered nearby, all visibly shaken.
"Hey, Evan," Eleanor had said softly, kneeling beside him. "Rough night?"
He nodded, not meeting her gaze.
"We were supposed to go out," one of the others--Noah, the paramedic--explained. "He'd been looking forward to it all week. Then, out of nowhere, panic attack. We tried to help, but..." He trailed off, his helplessness thick in the air.
Eleanor had seen this before. The guilt. The fear. The exhaustion--not just in Evan, but in his friends. They weren't just worried for him; they were questioning their own ability to help.
"I ruined their night," Evan had muttered. "I've probably ruined their whole week. They work so hard in their jobs as doctors and teachers and emergency workers, and now instead of unwinding; this--"
"You didn't ruin anything," Eleanor had assured him. "But let's talk about why you feel that way."
"They've all missed out on a night out," Evan stammered, loosely waving an arm at his companions; "all because I'm too weak!"
"Hey!" Eleanor stopped him, lowering his hand with her own and leaning in close to him. "They got to spend a night together with you and each other. They haven't lost anything."
Evan looked at her. "They'd have done other things if they got to go out though," he persisted.
"Oh yeah," challenged Eleanor. "Like what?"
Her hand was resting on his lap and a bulge she felt pressing against her arm quickly informed her of the type of fun he'd been hoping for.
It had been a long day, and she'd wanted a quick win. Without thinking she pulled back the top of his pants, took his dick in her mouth and started sucking.
This was meant to be a boost for the struggling friend, however evidently his company thought they'd lost a night of chances to get lucky too, as suddenly a pair of hands lowered her pants to her ankles, and her tits were exposed and getting groped.
Part of her wanted to object, however her mouth being full she could take no immediate action. In this time an unknown dick entered her pussy, another breached via her butthole, and different dicks were placed in her hands and between her newly exposed tits.
This was literally her worst nightmare manifesting. She'd gone too far trying to help a troubled peer and now she was getting raped in every manner imaginable. She found herself almost in tears at the pain and humiliation of having to lay there taking it, fully present to the sensation, the taste, the pain. She was a helper of others, she was far more than just a pair of tits, dick-jerking hands, a cocksucking mouth, and fuckable pussy and ass...
