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   Chapter 3 Claire forced herself to maintain a steady pace, refusing to
look back at the storage shed, until she had made it around the corner of
the building.  As soon as she was sure she was out of sight she pressed
herself up against the wall, mashing one hand to her mouth, breathing in
loud hisses through her fingers, and trying to retain her composure.  Her
entire body felt shaky, and her chest heaved as she forced herself to calm
down.  In her mind she just kept seeing that pathetic naked girl, down in
the dirt, groaning as she humped at Claire's shoe, and she kept remembering
how suddenly the idea sprang into her head.  "Kick her", she had thought,
and she had realized how easy it would be to slam her foot into the girl's
face.  The urge had been so strong, and she felt her leg twitch before she
forced herself to yank it back, shaken and trying not to show the cracks in
her composure.

   She knew then that she needed to get out of there, needed to get some
fresh air and a clear head, and so abruptly she had left, leaving Sancia to
scramble into her clothes while Claire put as much distance between them as
she could.  It had seemed like such a fun idea at first, humiliating the
poor girl, making her strip herself, grovel and beg, but with it came a
rush of power Claire couldn't have understood to anticipate.  Even now her
mind raced as she thought about the degree of control she had over her
classmate.  She really could make her do anything.  She really could make
her do anything at all, and if Sancia's sketches were any indication,
"anything at all" might be a lot.  She smiled as she thought of the picture
she'd just secretly snapped, of Sancia's filthy naked body, staring up with
that expression on her face from the floor.

   Claire took a deep breath and started walking again, trying to brush the
dust off of her skirt with limited success.  She knew she must look messy
herself, with her hair plastered to her head and sawdust stuck to the back
of her thighs, but she forced herself to smile as she dug out her bus pass,
walking up to the stop just as the driver was about to pull away.  Running
half an hour after school, this bus was almost entirely deserted, the seats
less than a third full with students who either had detention or just
missed their first trip.  She sat down near the front, right behind the
driver, as she always did and folder her hands over her bag in her lap. 
And as the bus rumbled up to speed, the seat vibrating beneath her, she
began to think.

   She disembarked at the edge of town, one of the last students to leave,
and the only one at this stop.  Claire paused, as she always unconsciously
did, to stare at the trailer park in front of her, and then began to walk
briskly towards home, winding the tiny streets that threaded between the
squalid homes.  They lived near the back, where the lot met the woods, and
she pushed the flimsy door open cautiously after mounting the steps, poking
her head inside.  Her mother lay sprawled on the couch, a cigarette hanging
between her fingers, seemingly asleep.  And her father wouldn't be home for
another few hours.  The perfectly dressed girl slipped inside on tiptoes
and snuck her way to the far back, where her room occupied the very end of
the unit, a tiny space no more than six feet deep and ten across, barely
large enough to hold her mattress and the nightstand she used as a desk.

   Sliding the door shut Claire felt a thin sense of relief slide over her
as she closed her eyes for a moment.  She was home and safe.  For the first
time she wondered if Sancia would tell on her, but she dismissed it.  She
wasn't that crazy.  She began to unbutton her blouse, gingerly slipping it
over her shoulders and sliding it onto the hanger, wincing slightly at how
dirty she'd let it become.  Her skirt she threw on the laundry pile.  She
gazed into her closet for a moment, counting the outfits that hung in
there. A half dozen perfect ensembles, color matched and expensive,
representing over a year and a half of hours every spent night helping
strangers online with their homework, collecting as much money in her
PayPal as possible before spending it all on the clothes that let her
pretend at school.  That let her forget for a bit what was waiting for her
at home.

   She sighed slightly, and sat down on the edge of her bed, in just her
panties.  She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror that hung on the
far wall and frowned, caressing the bulges of her still forming breasts. 
That stupid slut had such great tits, and it just wasn't fair.  Even with
two years to catch up on, Claire knew she'd never have a figure like that,
she was always going to be scrawny and slight.  Well, life might not be
fair in some ways, but it certainly paid off karma in others, she thought
to herself with a grim grin on her face.  Part of her wanted to pull up her
photos of Sancia's crude sketches again, but she forced herself to set that
aside and instead set up her aging laptop her uncle gave her on the
nightstand, splaying out her textbooks alongside her.  Homework first.

   Maybe it was easy work, or maybe it was because Claire was more
motivated then usual, but she blew through all of her work in under an
hour. The math came easily, as it always did, the science questions were
moronically simple to figure out, and she found the words flowing easily as
she typed up the first third of her literary analysis for an essay due at
the end of the week, planned, as always, to be completed with a day to
spare for additional review.  She hadn't realized how tense she'd been,
sitting with her shoulders hunched forward, until she finally closed it
down and let out a sigh.  With the completion of her work for the day came
the familiar feeling of release, almost like a drug, and she shifted over
onto her side as she pulled up the folder with Sancia's shared drawings.

   Her classmate was so fucked up.  So completely fucked up.  Claire found
herself smiling again as she slowly clicked through them.  Was that really
supposed to be a huge fat dildo shoved up her asshole, as she lay on the
ground, hands between her legs, her holes raised to the air?  Everything
was so grotesque, and Claire couldn't pull herself away.  She kept
remembering how she looked, scared and naked and needy, and now she could
imagine just what the girl would look like in all of these drawings.

   The thirteen year old girl groaned and slid one hand under her panties,
stroking herself slowly.  She had never masturbated much, but this...this
made her feel like nothing else had before.  For the first time it occurred
to her that Sancia couldn't be making this up on her own, and she pulled up
her browser.  Her first few searches were clumsy.  "Naked girl chains". 
"Tied up slut".  Even the tamer stuff that came up arrested her attention
in the way her short forays into regular porn hadn't.  And then she clicked
on one link that looked just like any of the others, verified that she was
eighteen, and froze at the sight of a woman her mother's age, her mouth
thrown open in a silent scream, tied and suspended on the edge of a sharp
wooden triangle, with what looked like thick metal skewers shoved straight
through her breasts, and what was unmistakably a set of power cables
running from clamps on her pussy.

   Claire must have stared at the image for a good three minutes.  She kept
running around the different details, eyes bouncing around the image on a
loop.  Just below it was the top of a video frame.  She scrolled down, then
scrambled to grab her headphones, plugging them in before hitting play. 
There was a logo, a quick fade to black, and then the screams began.  A
clip as one of the skewers was shoved sideways into her breast.  The
alternating shrieks and sobs as someone off screen played with the electric
cables, clearly shocking her repeatedly.  The soft begging, almost
impossible to understand.  And then the other woman strode into view. 
Younger, beautiful, wearing nothing but tall leather boots and a black
corset cut underneath her breasts.  The camera panned around to show her as
she grabbed the whimpering victim by the chin, spat on her face, and then
slapped her hard across the cheek.  "Shut up!" she roared and was met only
with whimpers in return.  The clip ended.

   Claire rolled onto her back, trying to process what she just saw.  Her
body felt aflame in a way it never had before, not even that afternoon. 
She hoisted her computer onto her lap and played the clip again, watching,
wide eyed, all the way through.  She watched through the clip again.  She
paused it when the woman stepped into frame.  She stared at her boots,
studying the way they buckled up to her thighs.  She pored over the blurry
image of the corset, so unlike the ones in the history books.  She found
herself browsing shopping results for boots just like hers, and gawping at
the price.  And she imagined herself, dressed like that, striding into the
room.  And she thought of Sancia, screaming for mercy.  And how she could
just turn up the voltage in response, and leave her to shriek.

   Very carefully Claire closed the laptop.  She pushed it off her belly
and began to think.  She could do whatever she wanted with Sancia but
something told her she couldn't quite do that.  Not yet.  But she could get
there.  Her mind raced.  Sancia was so desperate for attention.  So hungry
for anyone to pay attention to her.  And now completely terrified of
Claire. That could be a powerful mix.  Claire knew firsthand what it was
like to grapple with that need to be paid attention to, to be validated. 
And the fear that came with along with it.  But Claire also knew that she
was strong, and smart, smarter than anyone else, and she'd squashed that
fear and with it anyone's ability to hurt her.  And Sancia was so obviously
weak, and so pitifully stupid, like all the other kids at school.  And
Sancia could be hurt.  Something like a plan began to form in Claire's
mind; less than a plan really, but a set of paths, and possibilities.  She
thought again about the sketches, and what they could become, and she
smiled to herself.

   She spent the rest of the night on her belly, reading.  And watching. 
And absorbing.  Girls kneeling.  Girls begging.  Girls screaming.  She
discovered the word slave, and she knew it was perfect.  Sancia was going
to be a slave.  Her slave.  Utterly helpless.

   (Chapter 4:
http://www1.asstr.org/files/Authors/Goddess_Agony/Sancia_and_Claire/Sancia%
20and%20Claire%20Chapter%204.txt?nocache=cQmfUTNMeDYDAqXeumaf)