Sancia and Claire

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Chapter 1

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 hadnÕt 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 wasnÕt 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 anywhereÉin 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 hadnÕt 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. TheyÕd lock her up in an asylum, theyÕd 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.

MaybeÉmaybe someone else had it. Maybe Darryl had it. Maybe heÕd see it and heÕd 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 wasnÕt 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 theyÕd 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 couldnÕt avoid the vibration as it purred a third time and she grabbed it again, looking in horror. TheyÕd 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.

ÒStop it!Ó she frantically texted back Ògive it back its mine stop it!Ó.  Her phone was silent, her eyes glued to the screen, as the word ÒnoÓ bounced up. She didnÕt even realize tears were running down her cheeks as she replied Òwhat do you want? Please give it back. IÕll do anything just donÕt tell anyoneÓ. 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: ÒBehind the auditorium. After school tomorrow.Ó

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 againÉthey could make her do whatever they wanted. A small voice in the back of her head whispered hopefully ÒyesÉthey couldÓ. ÒNo!Ó she cried out, standing up in agitation, but the seed of the thought was there now, and she couldnÕt drive it away.

Her motherÕs voice echoed up from downstairs ÒSancia! DinnerÕs ready!Ó.

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 couldnÕt keep her eyes off her phone, and her mother couldnÕt 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 mindÕs eye, the stuff theyÕd found, and she found herself squirming in her seat.

ÒAre you alright honey?Ó. Her motherÕs voice was concerned. She just nodded and said weakly Òyeah justÉa big lunch today, you know?Ó. Her mother frowned at that, but dropped the subject, sheÕd seen her little girl in enough of her moods to know it would pass in a couple days. StillÉshe hoped everything was okay.  It wasnÕt 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 hadnÕt realized how horny she was until halfway up the stairs, but by the time sheÕd 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 herÉother Tumblr account. The one sheÕd 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 sheÕd 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 ofÉsomething. 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 airÉsheÕd 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 didnÕt care. She pulled the sheet up over herself, shaking slightly, and fell asleep watching videos.