The afternoon air was warm as Hannah walked across campus toward the field house. After returning everything in her room to its usual place, she'd pulled on her navy blue one-piece swimsuit, the one she'd bought last spring when she thought she might try out for the swim team once she got to the University. Those plans had never worked out though as she'd been kept busy with classes and friends since the school year started.
Over the suit, she'd put an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweat shorts, then stepped into her sandals and headed out. The facilities in the field house were open to any students, so she was free to use the pool anytime she wanted as long as there were no classes or team practices. This afternoon she knew she had at least an hour. That would be more than plenty of time to work off her sexual frustration from earlier.
Who the hell did he think he was anyway? He was just some guy she'd partied with over the summer. He was taking the whole 'yes, sir' thing too far. He didn't have the skill to make it work and she knew it. Hell he'd never really done anything special to make her cum other than remind her of the summer.
The girl at the desk smiled when Hannah scanned her card through the reader.
"Back again?" she asked, waving and giving Hannah a smile.
"Yep, just working off some stress."
"I know the feeling. Just wait until midterm week!"
Hannah laughed, then pushed open the door of the women's locker room. There were three or four older students gathered around a single locker, looking at photographs. From their voices, she made out that they were from a summer vacation ritual that one of them had missed. "Next year," she heard one of them laugh.
The combination lock opened easily and Hannah pulled her shirt over her head, folded it carefully and rested it gently down on the single shelf. She slipped off her shorts and placed them on top of her shirt and then removed her sandals, putting them in the bottom of the locker. Grabbing her towel, Hannah headed out to the pool area.
The water was cool and felt wonderful. She relaxed into the exercise, feeling her muscles stretch and loosen as she got into the flow of her stroke. After fifteen minutes, she was feeling the warm, familiar burn that meant she was ready to start in for real. There were two other swimmers in the pool, each in their own lap lane, neither swimming anywhere near fast enough to keep up with Hannah. Of course, she thought, they probably aren't working off a ton of sexual tension either.
She swam a full thirty minutes full-out, then relaxed a bit for another fifteen. An hour altogether, of good, hard physical work. But she was still restless. Damn him. Damn them all.
The other swimmers were long gone by the time she climbed out of the pool. The sleek blue suit glistened from the water. Hannah caught a glimpse of herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror outside the locker room. From her slim legs, to her small, tight ass to her flat belly, there was nothing not to love. She even turned herself on, imagining what it might be like to encounter another woman like herself, another nymph with that same soaking wet blue suit, hair damp and flat against her head and neck, mouth closed but lips still full and pouting, eyes burning and hungry for something. She knew what but wouldn't admit it. She felt the bottom of her stomach churn again. She knew she would be going back online once she got to her room. She had to find some sort of release. The craving was too strong.
As she raised the towel, she turned to face herself directly in the mirror. She put her feet shoulder width apart, leaned back just a bit, accentuating the leg muscles and jutting her small breasts slightly upward. The hunger was getting bigger. She'd noticed it growing all summer, the need to play out those scenes she'd read about or watched in video clips. The need to find someone who could turn her into that kind of woman in the stories she'd devoured eagerly.
Rubbing her arms dry with the towel, she wondered about the hunger. Was this what it felt like to be an addict? Or a psycho? Or even a vampire? The need to have something that is outside your control. Something you have to go after and seek? The need so strong that you would take risks, make sacrifices, maybe destroy yourself just to fill it?
Hannah noticed that she was rubbing herself hard with the stiff towel. The skin of her arms was red and raw. She smiled and reached down to dry her legs. She scrubbed even harder, feeling the fierce fabric chewing away at her delicate flesh. She wanted to pull the suit off and run the towel hard over her nipples, maybe grab it and pull it between her legs like one of those feather boas the strippers played with. Her eyes darted around the big room. She was alone, there were no windows and the only doors led to the locker rooms. She slid the top of her suit down over her shoulders, rolled it down around her waist. Then, she rubbed hard across her chest, back and forth, fast. Soon her nipples were red and raw. It brought tears to her eyes but she loved the feeling. She wanted to slide a hand between her legs but couldn't imagine masturbating right there near the pool deck.
"Get hold of yourself," she thought, shaking her head. She bit her lip, the feeling giving her something to focus on. Hannah pulled the suit back into place and started walking toward the locker room, feeling the pain of the fabric against her sensitive nipples with each step she took.
As soon as she stepped through the wooden door between the pool and the locker room, Hannah knew something was wrong. She had no idea what it was or how she knew, but she felt a cold terror come over her. She paused just inside the door, hand still holding it open, as she glanced around nervously. Had to be her head playing with her, she thought. "It's nothing. Don't be so jumpy."
Just as Hannah started to step further into the room, the lights went out. She saw a figure in the shadow behind the door. They pushed the door closed and Hannah heard the twist of the lock, the bolt sliding into place.
"Please..." she whimpered softly into the darkness. She inched her way forward slowly, a hand out in front of her, feet moving slowly to keep from tripping. Hannah knew the general way to her locker and from there to the other door. If it was unlocked, she could run out, get help, and be safe.
The room remained black and silent. "Who's there?" she asked, but there was no response. She reached her hand out to the left, felt the bank of lockers where it should be, and moved forward a little more confidently. She stumbled over a box someone had left in the aisle and heard several quiet giggles from different parts of the room. She was not alone and there was more than one other person.
"What do you want?" she asked gently, her heart pounding in her chest. More than answer, though, she was hoping to be ignored. If she could make it to the door, she would be out of danger.
In another minute, she felt the end of the row of lockers and launched out into the open space between that bank and the bench that separated those lockers from hers. Her feet shuffled quietly against the concrete floor. Her toe felt the metal pipe that supported the bench and she was able to reorient herself again. Another ten feet or so and she would be standing directly in front of her own locker. From there, the door was ten feet ahead, then a turn to the left. She felt some rising confidence that she would make it to the outside.
Suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, the light blazed on. Hannah's eyes burned and she raised her arms to shield them. Almost immediately, she realized that was a mistake, but it was too late. Hands grabbed her upper arms and another cupped itself over her mouth.
Her eyes widened when she saw the five goth girls in the locker room with her. Sharon was the one holding her left arm and Leslie, the tall one she thought of as the Amazon, was standing at the end of the bench. Her right hand was on her hip, her left hand held a coil of rope. Her face was painted with the smirk of a young kid who had just finished torturing a cat and was about to move on to the kittens. Hannah didn't really know the other three girls but all were staring at her with undisguised disdain.
"Ah, so the little preppie bitch finds herself unescorted tonight. That must be unusual, hmm? Little Miss Popularity..." Leslie walked slowly toward Hannah, smirking and swaying her hips. "Little cunt who likes to watch the boys watch her?" She exaggerated her walk into a strut, flipped her hair back with her hand, and pursed her lips. "The boys like me," she said in a mocking tone, "I'm Little Miss Perfect and my pussy is gold-plated."
Leslie stopped directly in front of Hannah. She raised the coil of rope over Hannah's head and dropped it down. It hung loosely around her neck, the end hanging loose just below her elbow.
"Gold plated cunt, no? So much better than all of us losers?" Leslie's face was only an inch away from Hannah's.
"Stop it! I don't know why you're being like this! I'm just a girl like you!"
All five of the goth girls broke into laughter at that. "You stupid little bitch!" Sharon barked, "we're NOTHING like you. You don't talk like us, you don't dress like us, you don't act like us. You are the complete opposite of us."
"No, no, I don't know what you mean," Hannah protested.
"Strip her," Leslie said nonchalantly, ignoring Hannah. "She has a nice little body, let's see what sort of fun we can have with it."
