Being A Bully For Her

Victoria never told anyone how the fantasy started. One afternoon she caught herself clenching when the words popped in. Bully. Cunt. Pathetic. Years had passed since the actual bullying, yet the shame still throbbed between her legs like an itch she could not scratch on her own. She’d hinted at the craving with two or three girlfriends, and every single time their faces cooled like bath water. Nothing ruined the mood faster than the word roleplay. She was ready to bury the idea when Lauren happened. Lauren just listened, finished her martini, and said, “Get on your knees when we get back.” No speeches. No pity. Just a promise. Twenty minutes later the bedroom door shut and the game began. Lauren shoved Victoria against the dresser, breath hot on her ear. “Look at you,” Lauren spat, voice low, mocking. “still that little hallway freak.” She yanked Victoria’s cotton panties, hauling the fabric so hard it bit between swollen lips and rode up the crack of her ass. Victoria gasped, hips jerking. The rough twist gave her an ugly, delicious ache she’d only felt alone. Lauren didn’t stop. She marched the woman backward until calves hit the bed, then swept a leg forward and pressed the ball of her bare foot down on Victoria’s chest, pinning her to the mattress. Victoria’s nipples hardened against the sole, and the pressure made her thighs open on instinct. Another jerk—fabric singing against skin—as Lauren gave a second wedgie, quicker, meaner, dragging the wet cotton across clit and asshole until the seam nearly tore. The sound Victoria made was half protest, half plea. She could feel how soaked the cotton had gone, the scent of her own need rising between them. Lauren leaned close, twisting her toes against the flushed skin over Victoria’s sternum. “You like being treated like trash, don’t you?” she whispered, pressing down harder until Victoria’s ribs ached. “Answer me.” “Yes,” Victoria breathed, voice cracking. The single syllable earned her a tight slap between the legs—sting followed by the delicious soak of fresh want sliding down her thigh. Lauren smiled like a predator granted permission. “Stay,” she ordered, lifting her foot only to replace it with the sharp line of her knee against Victoria’s soaked center, grinding just enough to make the girl’s hips buck. The humiliation burned hotter than any touch, and Victoria tipped her head back, offering everything she had. For once, the word bully tasted exactly the way she’d always needed it to.