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Sancia felt a dull panic build in her stomach as she stared down at the paper in front of her, the figures on it starting to swim slightly. She should know this, she should know how to do all of this, but her mind felt utterly blank. Hesitantly the fifteen year old girl dragged her pencil to the first question, and tried desperately to remember where to begin on this sort of problem. With the base of the triangle? One of the angles? She began to scribble down rough lines, bits and pieces coming back to her, as she tried to ignore the ticking of the large wall clock, audible even over the scratching of pencils in the otherwise silent classroom. Mr. Stevenson patrolled up and down between their cheap plastic desks slowly, glancing from paper to paper, eyes sharp for any signs of cheating. She lowered her head as he passed, hyperaware of how much time she had left.
With only two problems left to solve she was snapped out of focus by the shrill ringing bell, swearing under her breath as she scrambled to write down something, anything, for the remaining questions, shoving her long black hair out of her eyes and back over her shoulder. Someone bumped into her desk as the other students all tried to squeeze up to the front to drop their papers down, and she bit back a yelp of irritation, scrawling down a few numbers and then hastily signing her name at the top of the sheet. She squeezed herself into the line, heart thudding, swearing softly to herself. No fucking way she hadn’t bombed that.
She dropped the sheet down and then swung back around to her desk, the classroom now half empty. She slung her backpack off the back of her seat and shoved the textbook inside, zipping it shut with more force then necessary, and half stalking out of the classroom. She spent the bus-ride home staring out the window and trying not to think about what her parents were going to say at the next round of conferences, when they saw where her math grade (really all of her grades, a nasty thought said, she pushed it away) were doing this semester. Everything seemed so much harder than freshman year! She huddled in her seat near the back, backpack pulled to her chest to help hide her breasts, larger than any other girl in her class by quite a margin and a target of ridicule whenever a few of the popular girls felt particularly nasty.
It wasn’t until she lay sprawled in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, sinking back into the soft mattress and kicking her legs absentmindedly over the edge, that she bothered to pull her backpack open again. And discovered her sketchbook was missing.
She sat bolt upright, a real knife of terror lancing through her belly. She dug through everything in the bag again, just to be sure, and then dumped it out on the bedspread, just to be really sure. She practically threw her books aside as she confirmed her first fears; the big, black covered sketchbook she carried everywhere and guarded with her life, was missing. Sancia began to hyperventilate softly as she tried to remember if she could have possibly left it anywhere…in the bathroom, in one of her classrooms, somewhere here in the house, but she vividly remembered having it all through the day. Right up until math class at the very end.
With a groan she realized someone must have snatched it from her bag at the end of class, when she was away from her desk and no-one was looking. They hadn’t stolen her bag though, just the sketchbook, and she realized whoever had it knew what they wanted. Her terror began to mix with anger as she thought about who might have taken it. Stacey. Abigail. Tahiya. Any one of them would have loved to snatch her most valued possession and dangle it over her. But what would they do when they saw the contents? With a thick sensation of dread she thought through the options. Tell an adult? Tell a teacher? Tell everyone at school? Without realizing it she whimpered audibly, her life was over. They’d lock her up in an asylum, they’d call her crazy, her parents would pretend they never knew her. She began to shake uncontrollably, before gulping down air and forcing herself to calm down slightly.
Maybe…maybe someone else had it. Maybe Darryl had it. Maybe he’d see it and he’d understand. Or one of his friends. Jake liked to stare at her sometimes. She tried to cling to some slight hope, rolling over on her belly and grabbing her laptop from the floor. Facebook seemed quiet. No-one posted anything mocking her, no-one private messages. She pulled up Tumblr instead and began to browse her feed, smiling at some of the artwork people half a world away had posted in that day alone. Slowly she began to relax.
Her phone buzzed. Instantly her panic returned. No-one ever texted her except for Nancy, and she had a horrible feeling it wasn’t Nancy. It was an unknown number. She tapped the message open. And there it was, a snapshot of one of her pages. Without even enlarging the image she knew exactly which one it was, which of her crude drawings they’d taken a picture of. A girl, clearly Sancia herself, hanging naked from a rope around her fat tits, tears running down her face and her legs splayed wide and cuffed to the floor. She threw the phone away, it bounced against her pillow and she clutched her legs to her chest. Fuck. Fuck fuck.
The phone buzzed again. She rolled over on her side, pressing her hands to her ears, trying to ignore it, but she couldn’t avoid the vibration as it purred a third time and she grabbed it again, looking in horror. They’d sent her that drawing where she was skewered between two cocks, in her mouth and pussy, while clamps and chains dragged her tits down to the floor. And the one where she was strung up vertically, pulled taught between an invisible floor and ceiling, with red bullwhip marks across every inch of her flesh, and a fat ball gag in between her lips.
“Stop it!” she frantically texted back “give it back its mine stop it!”. Her phone was silent, her eyes glued to the screen, as the word “no” bounced up. She didn’t even realize tears were running down her cheeks as she replied “what do you want? Please give it back. I’ll do anything just don’t tell anyone”. There was no response for minutes, until she was just about to give up and toss her phone away again, before finally their final words for the evening popped up: “Behind the auditorium. After school tomorrow.”
She set her phone down and rolled her legs off the bed, staring down at the carpet, her heart thudding so loudly she could feel her ribs. She had to do it. She had to see who it was. They could do anything with those pictures. They could ruin her life. She let out a soft whimper again…they could make her do whatever they wanted. A small voice in the back of her head whispered hopefully “yes…they could”. “No!” she cried out, standing up in agitation, but the seed of the thought was there now, and she couldn’t drive it away.
Her mother’s voice echoed up from downstairs “Sancia! Dinner’s ready!”.
Dinner was awkward. Sancia sat there, barely able to focus, pushing spaghetti around her plate. Her father complained about a bad day at work. Her older sister couldn’t keep her eyes off her phone, and her mother couldn’t stop chiding her to put the horrible thing away and join the family. Sancia herself had barely any appetite, and felt like she had to force every bite down, each one hitting the pit in her stomach uselessly. She kept seeing those messages in her mind’s eye, the stuff they’d found, and she found herself squirming in her seat.
“Are you alright honey?”. Her mother’s voice was concerned. She just nodded and said weakly “yeah just…a big lunch today, you know?”. Her mother frowned at that, but dropped the subject, she’d seen her little girl in enough of her moods to know it would pass in a couple days. Still…she hoped everything was okay. It wasn’t natural for a girl her age to be that pale, that quiet, or that lonely, no matter her best efforts as a mother to help her meet people. She bit her lip and excused Sancia early from dinner, taking her half eaten food for herself. It would have been unthinkable to waste it.
Sancia found herself stripping down even as she locked her door. She hadn’t realized how horny she was until halfway up the stairs, but by the time she’d slid her jeans off and wriggled out of her t-shirt her nipples felt like aching pebbles. Her bra and panties hit the floor seconds later as she crawled onto the bed, heavy breasts swinging as she flipped the computer open again, clicking open a private window and logging into her…other Tumblr account. The one she’d never show anyone.
One hand was between her thighs even as she began to scroll down the page, rubbing along her clumsily shaven slit, marked by a couple of tiny pale scars where she’d cut herself the other day. She fought back a groan at a gif of a woman hanging from a tree by one ankle, tied to the ground by the other, while someone out of frame landed a flogger against her splayed slit, hard enough to set her shaking. She grabbed her pillow, shoving it between her thighs and rolling onto her belly as she carefully muted the volume.
The evening was blurry and indistinct. The girl ground and humped at her pillow for what must have been hours, soaking it in her juice, as she clicked from blog to blog. A woman taking two cocks in her ass. What looked like two twins making out on the floor, in identical hogties. Her mother tried knocking on her door once to check on her, and the miserable teen just yelled at her to go away. A bald slave, her head completely smooth, with a ring through her nose, a thick cock gag down her throat and a miserable expression on her face. Sancia found herself speeding up and slowing down and groaning in frustration as she could feel herself approaching the edge of…something. The edge of cumming. The edge of orgasm. Something she knew she had never managed. Finally she panted heavily and rolled back over onto her side, exhausted and miserable, the scent of her arousal thick in the air…she’d have to sneak this pillowcase into the laundry too. She glanced at the clock and realized that she was far overdue to start her homework. She also realized she didn’t care. She pulled the sheet up over herself, shaking slightly, and fell asleep watching videos.
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It was laughable to even try to focus in school the next day. Sancia did her absolute best to keep her head down, away from the teachers attention, and mumbled out any answer she was unlucky enough to be called on for. Through English, Science and History she sat staring at the clock, watching as it ticked excruciatingly around every revolution, dashing out of the room at every bell.
She sat alone at lunch. Nancy, her only friend, was still out sick with the flu. As she shoveled the foul mashed potatoes into her mouth she stared down where, half hidden by her lunch tray she kept her phone open. She stared at those images, and tried to silence the mixture of fear and a strange excitement. No-one bothered her. No-one cared where she sat. Shrill laughter broke out one table over, and she ignored it. Whatever normal loneliness set in at this time was drowning beneath her new anxiety.
Math class was the worst. The tests came back, handed out down the rows, from student to student, and she heard a snicker as hers was passed back…she groaned softly at the 43% and crumpled it up. The stupid blonde bitch three seats back wasn’t gloating, but everyone in the room knew she had a perfect score again, and her silent smugness was insufferable.
She tried desperately to pay attention, deeply aware of how much catching up she had to do to scrape by a passing grade this semester, but even on the best of days the sprawling figures on the whiteboard made almost no sense, and today she barely picked up on a word out of the teacher’s mouth. Her foot was tapping restlessly against the floor for almost five minutes before she realized and forced it flat, chest heaving with every heavy breath. She found herself counting along with the second hand as it inched down the last minute of class, and as the bell split the air she took off out the door, fighting down the urge to run, as the halls began to swarm with eager teenagers trying to fight their way outside.
She had to push against the flow, struggling to make her way towards the far end of the complex, where the auditorium was poorly grafted onto the building, along with the theater rooms and the music rehearsal halls. She found herself suddenly free of the crowd in a hallway she’d barely set foot in, the big grey double doors at the end cracked open to the late spring day outside. Heart thudding again she stepped forward slowly, down the seemingly endless row of lockers, and forced herself to push the doors open.
There was no-one there The asphalt periphery that ran around the school was deserted. The baseball field stood a few hundred yards off. Down the wall a ways the theater storage shed jutted out from the building. She was alone. She let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, dropping her hands from her backpack. A giggle slipped out through her lips, and then she was giggling uncontrollably. There was no-one there. A note of panic slipped into her laughter as she wondered what they really wanted then, but she turned around and stepped back towards the open doors.
And froze. There she was. Striding down the corridor towards her. The blonde bitch. The stupid genius kid blond “skipped two grades” know it all blonde bitch. Claire. For the briefest of seconds Sancia held out a fragment of hope that it was a coincidence, but no, as she approached the expression on her scrawny thirteen year old face told the older teen everything she needed to know. She felt like the breath had been knocked out of her.
A bubble of rage rose inside her as she approached. “Give it back give it back you fucking bitch” Sancia found herself yelling, without any care for who heard her, feeling her hands clench into fists, as the other girl stepped out into the sun, tanned legs framed by her perfect black skirt, with a perfect white blouse above it and her insufferably perfect curls framing her face. Claire just giggled and pulled the black book from out of her waist bag as she stepped out the doors into the sun.
“You want this?” her high voice taunted as she dangled it from her fingertips. Sancia lunged for it and the younger girl darted backwards, before swinging it up and heaving it over her head onto the pavement. Sancia gasped and dove for it, falling onto her knees, while the blonde bitch laughed at her desperation. She couldn’t bring herself to care, she just pawed through it to make sure it was the right one…yes, there they were, there they all were, everything intact. She rose unsteadily to her feet, the book pulled close to her belly, fingers wrapped tight around the edges. “Was…that all you wanted? To laugh?”. There was bitterness in her voice, her worst fears and her unspoken hopes seemingly dashed in an instant.
“Nope” the scrawny blonde said perkily, “I want a lot more then that”. Sancia stared at her uncomprehendingly, until the girl sighed and with a hand on her hip said “I have pictures of every page. On my phone and on my computer. And I can send them to every other student. And every teacher. And your parents. At any time.”
Sancia felt her face begin to flush as she realized the hole she was suddenly in. She could make her do whatever she wanted alright. But it wasn’t Darryl, or Jake, or anyone else she’d allowed herself the slightest hope for. It was Claire fucking Marcus, insufferable thirteen year old prodigy, and one of the most admired and despised girls at the entire school. “What do you want?” she asked in a low voice. “You want my money? You want me to do your homework?”. She stared at the asphalt.
There was an energy in Claire’s voice when she answered, an edge to the girl with perfect composure. If Sancia didn’t know better she would have thought the girl was nervous. “Show me your tits”. Sancia’s face snapped up. She stuttered, stepping back once, thrown off guard. “W-what?”. There was something in the younger girl’s eyes as she repeated more firmly “Show me your tits”. Sancia’s eyes were wide. She never expected this from the girl. Slowly she reached down and rolled her t-shirt up, to reveal her featureless grey bra, supporting her fat breasts. Claire reached forward and grabbed the edge of her bra, yanking it down and causing Sancia to grunt in pain as the other girl wrenched it aside until her nipple was exposed. The blonde grinned. She grabbed it between two fingers and twisted it around roughly and older teen felt her knees shake, letting out a guttural gasp as her electrified nerves sent spasms up her spine.
There was an excitement, barely suppressed, in Claire’s voice as she said “no I mean…take off your bra. And your shirt”. Sancia gaped at her, and then looked around frantically…the back of the school was deserted, but if anyone came along she’d be completely exposed. “Right here?” she hissed. Claire nodded, a firmness in her voice. “Right here. Do it. Or I share with everyone”.
Sancia felt herself gulp. Sliding her backback down onto the ground first, she wriggled her shirt over her head and let it fall to the ground, and then reached back and unbuckled her bra, letting it fall forward as well, shrugging it off her shoulders. She shivered slightly as a warm breeze gusted around the building. Claire’s expression was inscrutable. Almost greedy. But cautious. She gently lifted one of Sancia’s breasts with one hand, and the girl felt herself go weak at the knees again. Then suddenly Claire grabbed her nipple roughly, pinching sharply between her fingers, and began to stride off along the side of the building. Sancia choked down a shriek as she stumbled along, pain lancing up from her poor nipple as she called out “w-wait stop!”, dragged along by her fat tit.
Claire released her in front of the theater storage shed. One and a half stories tall, bolted onto the side of the building and built from slabs of corrugated metal. The scrawny girl heaved on the sliding door until it creaked open just wide enough to squeeze inside, and she slipped in through the dark gap. Sancia stared, glancing at the door, then back at her discarded shirt and bra a hundred feet away. With another gulp she slipped through the door as well, and immediately gasped at the heat. The small, dark space was like a cramped oven, lit only by sunlight slipping through the cracks in the walls, and stacked high with old lumber and plywood, the ground thick with sawdust and grime, a set of shelves stuffed with old and run town tools.
Claire was sitting about four feet off the ground on the edge of a huge plywood stack, staring down at the dark haired girl with what looked like a grin on her face in the dim light, kicking her legs back and forth playfully. Sancia could already feel a trickle of sweat on her forehead as she stared up at the girl, anger and curiosity and fear in equal measure swirling inside her. “What do you actually want?” Her voice came out weaker and more fearful than she wanted. In response Claire poked the tip of her shoe into Sancia’s left breast and giggled softly “take off your pants. Your shoes. Everything.” Sancia stepped back quickly, hands flying up to protect herself “No! I won’t! You can’t make me!” Even as she said it, the voice in her head said “…she can make you. You know she can.”
Claire slipped her phone out of her bag, holding it high over Sancia’s head, and began to tap at the screen “Tahiya’s going to love this then. You think she calls you a slut now, just wait till she sees how much of a slut you really are”.
Sancia whimpered and cried out “Stop! Alright! Alright….” Slowly she reached down and began to slide her jeans down her thighs, the denim sticking to her sweating flesh. She peeled them off and then kicked off her shoes and socks, and finally with a shuddering breath she slid her white panties down as well. With a horrible sinking feeling she finally allowed herself to realize how sticky her pussy was, and she desperately hoped Claire would mistake it for sweat. When her clothes were in a heap on the floor she softly asked “now what?”
Claire leered down at her as she stripped herself naked, exposing herself completely. “Now?” she said simply, “now you beg. Beg me to keep it a secret”. Sancia’s breath caught slightly but then she began to implore “please…please Claire please don’t tell anyo-“
“No!” Claire cut her off, rolling her eyes, “beg properly. Down on the floor.” Shakily Sancia sunk down to her knees, and then onto her hands, tits swinging as she looked up at her blonde tormenter. She opened her mouth again but before she even got a word out Claire hopped down and planted her tennis shoe in the small of her back, forcing her down. Sancia groaned as her face was forced down to the floor, her breasts mashing beneath her against the dusty concrete, sawdust fluttering around her nose as she inhaled.
“Now, try again” Claire said slowly, and in a much weaker voice Sancia began again “please Claire please I’ll do anything at all but you can’t tell anyone it has to be a secret no-one can find out my parents can’t find out pleeeeease” she mewled pathetically. Claire struggled to keep her own composure under control as her groveling classmate begged under her feet, her own nipples aching beneath her blouse, her budding breasts too small to require a bra yet. The scope of possibility unfolded in front of her…this pathetic slut, completely sick in the head and utterly obedient to her. She twisted and ground her foot into the girl’s back while she thought, earning another whimper, her ass wriggling in the air.
“You are a stupid depraved fucked up slut, aren’t you?” Claire said slowly, and the words hit Sancia like a brick. She physically spasmed on the floor as insults she’d tried to brush off from bullies for years hit home from a girl who saw her like this. Claire ground her foot down again “Say it, say it out loud”. Sancia choked and then forced herself to repeat, her voice trembling “I…I’m a stupid fucked up slut”. A sob wracked her body, oh god it was so real, so horribly real. All those nights she’d dreamed about a man who would fuck her silly and call her a slut and none of it felt like this, none of it felt so awful like this, trapped in this filthy shed, naked and sweaty and scared. Her pussy clenched, a trickle of juice dripping down her thigh.
Claire smiled down at her, pulling her foot back. Suddenly her head jerked up, and an expression of fear flitted across her face also. Outside the faint sound of footsteps was audible, unmistakably drawing closer to the tool shed. “Quick, quick” she hissed, grabbing Sancia’s clothes and tossing them behind the plywood stack “get back there, hide!” Sancia scrambled after her gesture in a panic, forcing herself around the corner and ducking down, fighting back a series of whimpers as she scraped her flesh across the rough edges of the boards. There was barely enough room between the stack and the wall, her tits flattened against her chest, forced to awkwardly slide and crouch with one leg folded, the other outstretched. She didn’t dare to poke her head out over the edge as the door creaked further open, and the footsteps stopped inside.
“Claire? What the hell are you doing?” It was a boy’s voice. Probably upperclassman. Claire just murmured awkwardly “just…hanging out”. There was an awkward silence. “oh…kay” he said suspiciously, and then the sound of lumber being yanked around, and a few thumps. Sancia could feel her thighs starting to ache, but she couldn’t rest on the floor without doing the splits. She softly spit out a piece of fluff that floated onto her lips. Boards dragged along the ground. What sounded like a of nails being dropped back onto a shelf. And then, mercifully, footsteps retreating again and Claire dragging the door back closed. “Get back out here” she whispered.
Sancia squeezed back out from around the corner and Claire stifled a laugh. Her hair was a mess, streaked with spiderwebs and sawdust. Her sweaty naked body had attracted a mixture of filth and dirt, and there looked like an oil stain on one of her breasts from where they had mashed to the floor. Sancia glanced down at herself and cringed, pulling her arms around herself and closing her eyes, rocking back and forth slightly “please…please stop. Please can I just go home?”
Her eyes flew wide seconds later at the sudden pressure on her pussy and she stared up into Claire’s face above her, sweat soaked as well but still under control. The flat of Claire’s shoe was pressed against her dripping slit, and as she glared down at the miserable slut she began to rock it back and forth slightly. Sancia groaned loudly, involuntarily, and found herself rocking her hips forward. Claire found herself smiling as she continued to grind her shoe against the needy girl’s pussy, until suddenly she yanked it away, stepping back. “Get dressed” she snapped, and Sancia found herself crying out in frustration as her pussy twitched and squeezed, desperate for attention.
Claire pulled her phone out again as Sancia struggled into her filthy dusty pants, not even bothering to pull her panties or her socks on, just wadding them in one hand. Her eyes darted to the corners of the room “Claire…can you please…go get my shirt, and my bag outside?”. The blonde glanced up from her phone “oh no, I need to take off, I’m about to miss my next bus”. She flashed a white smile, and then shoved the phone back in her bag and squeezed her way back out through the door and just like that she was gone, leaving Sancia alone and half naked. The suddenness of her departure left Sansia mildly stunned, such intensity suddenly turned off like flipping a switch. She poked her head out the door and saw Claire already a few hundred feet away. With a gulp, she slid herself through as well, and then dashed for her remaining clothes, lying abandoned in the middle of the hot asphalt, gulping down the cool air as she skidded to a halt and yanked her shirt down over her head.
She sat back against the brick wall of the school and buried her head in her arms. Her entire body was shaking violently. Everything about the last half hour felt completely unreal. Between her thighs her pussy still throbbed, and all she could think about was Claire’s shoe pressing down, how good it felt to have it there, and…what it felt like to admit she was a fucked up slut. She sobbed.
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