Vicki spent most of the next Saturday in bed. She only got up to drink water or pee. Everything was sore, not just where she had been fucked. Shivering on a hardwood table for hours had not been good to her.
Between naps, flashes of the evening would run through her body, memories of being objectified and fucked that were so vivid that she could feel them. But that wasn't Vicki. That was just her body.
She didn't leave her room. Janette was gone. No one came to check on her. Vicki was alone.
Around four o'clock she got a knock on the door.
Liz poked her head in.
"Wake up, you're still on tonight," she said.
Vicki was too tired to be scared. She closed her eyes and leaned against her headboard, took a deep, long breath.
"I can't," Vicki said. She couldn't put the despair in to words. Vicki couldn't go out again, to get fucked and punished, humiliated and used. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.
Liz stepped in the room. Vicki should have been scared. She felt nothing. Empty.
"Listen Vicki," Liz said. "You can just quit. I knew you couldn't do this. Your brains weren't good enough to get you in the door, and your body isn't strong enough to keep you here. You want to stay in bed? Good luck."
"I'm not Sarah," Vicki said.
Liz's face twisted into a cruel sneer. "You're right. She was stronger than you are."
Then Liz was gone.
There was a history here, something terrible had happened, Vicki could feel it. But she wasn't her sister. The hatred was just so one sided and unearned.
She looked at the clock. Three hours until show time with no idea who she had to fuck. Vicki willed herself out of bed.
--
"You have any..." Vicki darted her eyes back and forth, and whispered, "Drugs?"
Kim was standing in her underwear, twisting her dark hair into a beautiful cascade of loose curls. It took meticulous planning to look so easy and carefree.
She smiled. Vicki was ridiculous, and they both knew it, but Kim was her only real connection to that world.
"Like weed?" Kim said. She was a bit too carefree and loud.
"Something harder," Vicki said.
"Harder how?" Kim asked.
"Ecstasy," Vicki said. "I read it makes you... want to be touched."
Kim stopped the hair teasing and looked at Vicki, really looked at her, sparkling brown eyes asking a question without words.
Vicki nodded. Whatever bad thing Kim was looking for, Vicki wore it on her face, in her posture, her shoulders, every part of her. Vicki didn't have the will to pretend to be strong anymore.
Kim knew. She hadn't been thrown into the abyss like Vicki, but she knew. This was her world too. Words weren't needed any more.
"Not on short notice," Kim said.
"Right," Vicki said. Her voice felt meek and quiet. She hated it. "Thought I'd try."
Kim held her thin hands out to Vicki. "Can you give me your hands?" she asked.
Vicki looked at those delicate fingers, piano playing fingers, like they were dangerous. Human contact was high voltage.
But just a glimmer of politeness, of consent, hit Vicki like a ray of sunshine. She put her hands on Kim's.
"I'm sorry," Kim said. She let the words settle. "You can do this. Drink a little too much wine. Laugh at things that aren't funny. Bring lube. You don't have to be brilliant for one night, you can be average. You just need to get through it. OK?"
Vicki shut her eyes. Somebody was going to fuck her tonight. Maybe several somebodies. She couldn't control how, whether they were racist assholes or shy programmers. The mechanics of sex weren't exactly difficult, but the invisible weight of a thousand different indignities and pain were just stacked so high, so much pain she couldn't breathe.
"I'll try," Vicki said.
"Yeah?" Kim said. She reached out to Vicki's cheek, wiping away a tear that she hadn't realized was there.
Vicki recoiled at the touch.
"Sorry," Kim said.
"Yeah, no. Don't be," Vicki said. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then Vicki was nodding and shuffling off, going back to her business of getting ready for the night.
--
Vicki tried. There was no gang bang or punishment, just a rich guy who thought he was a bit younger and a bit cooler than he actually was.
She armed herself with a lie.
She confessed over dinner that she hadn't been on many dates, that she hadn't had many "intimate moments," and the few she did have hadn't ended well. She lied and told her date that she was probably just bad at sex, and actually she was a little scared.
This rich man who had purchased her body held her hand and promised that he would be gentle with her, treat her right. Go slow. He'd do his best to show her what good sex was like. Vicki wanted to throw up, but instead she smiled and said, "That would be nice."
He kept his word. Vicki let him act out his nice guy fantasy, and he was gentle, over communicating, tender.
He was nice enough to show her the proper way to suck his cock. He was patient with her. What a hero. Vicki swallowed his come and counted her blessings. At least he spared the rest of her sore body.
--
Vicki survived the weekend. She got outside, went to class. Answered questions. She was really fucking good at this, at school. Despite the pain and distractions, she liked it. This was the real Vicki, and it was nice to be reminded of it.
Her Chem Lab partner, Frank, was still cute. He had that super lean, skate board punk body with a journalist's brain. Vicki saw the way his eyes followed her, how he hung on her every word. He was smitten. The real Vicki, the one from just a few months ago, would have been intimidated and excited, wondering whether he really liked her or if it was just in her head. She would have bounced around all of her insecurities for days, ignoring his lingering eyes, questioning how any one could want her stupid, fat body.
She had gained an unwanted super power these last weeks. Vicki knew with absolute confidence when someone wanted to fuck her.
Frank worried about her, about the rumor he had heard, that she had been forced to give a blow job in front of a whole sorority. He wanted to protect her but had too much sense to infringe on her agency. It was quaint.
Like everything in life, her time with Frank was tainted by an invisible expectation of sex. Vicki could feel it even if Frank couldn't.
But he was also the closest thing to real human contact Vicki had left, close to an actual friend. He was a drink of water in the desert, and Vicki drank deep.
--
Vicki was on her knees, licking Liz's asshole.
"I need a favor," Liz said.
Vicki had to stop, just for a minute, and laugh. Once she started, she couldn't stop. She had to pull away from Liz and just sit on her knees and cackle.
"What's so fucking funny?" Liz asked.
"I'm licking your asshole and THEN you ask for a favor?"
Liz actually chuckled too. Not malicious or cruel. Not calculated. Just laughed.
"OK yeah, I see it," Liz said. "But don't stop. Keep going while I talk."
That invisible filament of camaraderie was immediately severed as Vicki sat back up, pushing her lips into Liz's firm ass, running her tongue around Liz's asshole again.
The task was meant to be degrading, and it largely succeeded. Vicki was still coming to terms with the idea that some part of her sexuality was tied up in being degraded, but Liz rarely followed up with anything more. There just wasn't enough privacy or time.
"The favor," Liz said. "I have a presentation to do, almost like a job interview. I'm supposed to do some business analysis and present it to a small team. Real people. Industry leaders."
Vicki just listened, not stopping. She alternated licking the inside of Liz's cheeks, kissing and running her lips across smooth skin, licking around her asshole, with the occasional direct hit. She didn't have a method to evaluate her technique, but Liz didn't complain.
"I need you to do it," Liz said.
"What?" Vicki asked. Liz pulled away.
"Why don't you put your clothes back on and sit down," Liz said. As much as possible, Liz liked to strip her naked, but it was difficult to find time when they were guaranteed not to be interrupted.
Vicki followed orders. Liz didn't bother to put her panties back on and just watched Vicki get dressed.
By the time Vicki was clothed and sitting in the desk chair, something had changed. Liz was looking at her like she was a person.
"There is a lot of analysis to do, and I'm not going to get there. Real business isn't about spreadsheets. It's about trust and connections. But there isn't a presentation on that," Liz said.
"What do you want?" Vicki asked.
"Do the analysis. We'll present it together, but you'll answer the questions."
"I'm doing your work?"
"Yeah," Liz said.
"You're not even going to sugar coat it? Not going to lie to me?" Vicki asked.
"Who gives a shit. Hiring smart people is the secret of business," Liz said.
It was the closest thing to a compliment Liz had ever given her, and it wasn't about sex, or her body, or even sorority life. It was about the real Vicki. She was smart.
"OK," Vicki said. "How long do I have?"
"Four days," Liz said.
"And how long have you had it?"
"Three weeks," Liz said.
Vicki didn't know the full scope, but she could guess. School was intense. A three week project would be... significant. Impossible?
"That is not ideal," Vicki said.
