Vicki was still in the bathroom coffee shop. She had done her best to clean up after being force-fed Liz's piss. The soap and water hadn't been enough, could never be enough. Vicki felt she could never be clean again.
It was her punishment for meeting Liz without a buttplug in her ass, for daring to attempt to end this relationship. Her stomach roiled. Her knees still creaked from kneeling on the hard tile floor. It wasn't over. It would never be over. This was her life now.
Vicki needed to move. Liz had ordered an inspection back at the house. The punishment wasn't over.
The buttplug pressed uncomfortably against her insides, a constant reminder of who she was now. Liz's slave.
She couldn't hide in here forever. Vicki unlocked the bathroom door. The heavy clack of the deadbolt made her jump. She took a deep breath. Her whole world smelled like Liz's piss. She had to move forward. She had no choice.
Vicki opened the door and walked in to the coffee shop. Her ass was stretched and uncomfortable. The buttplug was humiliating but at least it was invisible. What truly scared Vicki was that she had no real sense of smell. Her sinuses burned with Liz's piss. Vicki couldn't smell herself and that was terrifying.
She stumbled through the coffee shop praying no one noticed.
Liz. She was still fucking here, sitting at a table, drinking her coffee like nothing had happened. She put her drink down and smiled at Vicki.
Vicki's wet shirt clung to her full breasts, nearly transparent, nipples poking obscenely through thin material. Liz smiled and waved her over.
Vicki shuffled through the coffee shop numb, bumped into a table which made an awkward scraping noise. For a moment, all eyes were on her.
"Is it in?" Liz asked.
Vicki nodded.
"Good. Don't forget, my room. Inspection, got it?" Liz's smile was perfect.
Vicki darted her eyes around the shop. Two boys she didn't recognize were staring at her tits.
"Yes," she said. Vicki had to get the hell out of here. She swallowed her words, but on the inside she was begging, pleading to just go.
"Yes, what?"
Vicki stared at Liz. A world of contempt was communicated with just those eyes and that expecting smirk. Liz was going to make her say it.
"Yes. Master," Vicki whispered.
Liz's eyes lit up. Another cruel smile. She sipped her coffee and stared into Vicki.
"Well you better get going then," she said. "It's not a short walk."
The boy nudged his friend, and both sets of eyes were on her. They looked poised to say something. Vicki launched herself for the door, making it to the street.
The sidewalk outside was lightly traveled. An old man stared at her tits-- no one she knew. Her breathing came in ragged gasps. "Don't panic," she told herself. She just had to get home.
So she walked from one end of campus to the other. Her full ass working around the buttplug with each step, every one a reminder of just how much her plan had backfired, and how soap and water made for inadequate lube.
The sun was shining, but even so the walk was cold, making her nipples even more visible. At least it was Sunday and campus was less packed than normal.
Men and women watched her go by. She told herself that her nipples were just hard from the cold.
--
Vicki prayed for the house to be empty. It wasn't uncommon for the other girls to go home on the weekend, and it typically didn't refill until evening. She made it all the way to her room without being stopped, breathing a sigh of relief. Vicki opened the door.
Janette.
Fuck. She was lying on the bed, freshly showered, in a clingy t-shirt and panties. She wasn't naked, but her outfit left very little to the imagination. Did she ever fucking wear clothes? Janette was reading a textbook but immediately slammed it shut.
"Vicki!" she said.
Fuck. Fuck.
Vicki had dried off on the walk home, but her world still reeked. She needed a shower.
"Janette," Vicki said. Her tone neutral, stomach turning over, a burp forming. Jesus no, she told herself.
"We need to talk," Janette said.
"Yeah, but not now," Vicki said. She started toward the bathroom.
"Now Vicki," Janette said. She leapt off the bed, uncomfortably close. "You've been avoiding me for weeks,"
Those pale blue eyes. Patient. Kind. Worried.
Where was that concern when Steve was raping her? When she was getting throat fucked in front of everyone she knew?
Vicki was going to throw up.
"I'm... I'm sorry," Janette said. She stepped in closer, so close. She put a small hand on Vicki's shoulder. "I was drunk. I know you don't want--"
"Stay the fuck away from me!" Vicki shouted. And she meant it. Fucking Janette, her beautiful, perfect roommate who wanted to fuck her and comfort her and abandon her when Vicki needed her most. She wanted to cry on that bony shoulder and wanted everything to be OK. But things weren't OK. They weren't ever going to be OK. A good cry against sharp ribs wouldn't cut it this time.
Vicki stormed passed Janette, not quite shoving her, slamming the bathroom door behind her. She threw the bathtub facet to max and bent over the tub. The toxic urine belch started a round of dry heaving.
When the first wave of dry heaving passed, and Vicki was able to form a coherent thought again, her first wish was that that Janette was gone, and that she was alone, that no one could hear what she was going through.
Vicki couldn't stand anymore good natured concern.
--
Vicki took a long shower and cried it all out. By the time it was over, Janette was gone. Not that it mattered. She had minutes to put her buttplug back in and get to Liz's room.
It had only been a couple of hours since Vicki's gamble for independence had backfired. It felt like a lifetime. The long shower had given her time to process. She had fallen from hope and independence to this.
Nothing. She was nothing. Liz was extra angry now, not that she ever needed a reason to punish Vicki.
Trapped. As bad as things were with Liz, it would be infinitely worse if she turned Vicki in. She had only the edge of how bad the true punishment would be, but the vacant look in both Liz's and her sister's eyes said more than enough.
