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  • Writer's picturedonnylaja

Tami finally kicks Wanda’s butt

“I just press this red button?” Tami said, even though it was obvious how it worked. Wanda nodded. Tami thought of having Wanda admit on tape her part in the various humiliations the naked girl had been put through, but decided against it. She didn’t want to hear those things described out loud so as to bring back the memories in full. And it could be turned around to show that Tami indeed was a modest girl who hadn’t gotten into all those things willingly. She was not going to risk anything at all with her escape from nudity just hours away.

She had a better idea. “Take off your clothes.”

Wanda’s eyes flashed. “What!” she whispered loudly.

Tami motioned with her head to a little alcove where the vending machines were and a little sofa. “Put them there and walk back to me.”

Wanda’s eyes darted to the sides. There was nobody around, finals being over, even the faculty and staff seeming to have taken off. “Tami -- !”

“Oh, it’s O.K. if it’s me, right? Not you?” The naked girl put her finger on the red button as if about to record her confession. “Do you want this or not?”

Wanda blinked and her eyes got red. After a quick glance of fear and hatred and desperation, she looked down and started walking to the alcove. Midway she stopped and said, “Tami, please -- ”

“Remember you had me walking through the snow?” Tami interrupted, extending one bare foot in front of her as if stepping forward, her toes spread. She also remembered the two workshops with Dr. Congi, the flaunting of her old clothes by Wanda and Lorinda, the squatting in front of the sprinkler in full view of the dorm to clean the burning mud out of her private areas . . . and knew that Wanda remembered these things too. “You have it easy, it’s nice and warm now.”

She saw Wanda turn away from her to stand in front of the sofa, bury her head in her hands, and then, slowly, cross her arms to pull up her tank top. It slid, with a great hesitation as if momentarily stuck, over her shoulders. Then, with even more hesitation, she reached back to undo the clasp of her little bra. She gathered it in front of her breasts, hating to let go, then dropped it to the sofa. It seemed as if she wanted to turn to beg for mercy, but in mid-turn she stopped, realizing it would be futile.

Wanda Percival cleared her throat and unbuttoned her skirt, letting it fall to reveal tiny black thong panties. It was an easy matter to extract this piece of string from her pussy and butt crack, yet she did it as if it were painful. She stood with her bare backside to Tami, hands clutched in front of her chest, legs crossed.

“Over here,” Tami said.

Wanda slowly turned and, looking quickly around and seeing the lobby still deserted except for the two of them, shuffled forward, one arm over her breasts, the other over her pussy, her sneakers squeaking on the clean hard floor.

“You don’t look naked to me,” Tami said, again putting a bare foot forward and wiggling her toes.

Wanda hesitantly edged one sneaker off and then the other, kicking them backward toward the sofa.

It was truly heart-rending to see a once-proud person brought so low, and it might have affected Tami, who was a kind-hearted girl without the deep reserves of sadism that some people had. But Wanda was no more naked than Tami was (and had been for months), and it was only natural that Tami now had a hunger for revenge which was not nearly sated. She spoke in a tone like the Dean’s. “You are showing a lot of modesty, Miss Percival.”

Hating every second, Wanda forced herself to put her hands down to her sides and stand up straight, head up. She kept her gaze averted to the side, albeit with a little spark of resentment and defiance.

Tami looked her former R.A. up and down. “I’ve got a better body than you,” she said, knowing it was very painful for Wanda to hear. But it was almost too obvious to say as the two naked young women stood there in the Rossland lobby face to face, one strong, muscular, shapely, tanned, unashamed, the other pale, weak, cowering, looking scrawny where she was not flabby, her tanned thighs and calves and face only serving to emphasize the paleness of the rest of her.

“Tami . . . please . . . ”

“I’m going to see the Dean. You probably know that. Want to come along?”

“Tami, no!” Wanda whispered, looking Tami in the face for a change.

Tami took a deep breath. “Well,” she said, looking at the tape recorder, “I’ve changed my mind.” Her next moves were like lightning. She smashed the tape recorder down to the floor, shattering it instantly, flew to the sofa, grabbed all of Wanda’s things and stuffed them into the nearby garbage canister, then ran to shove open the stairway door. In a split second nothing was left except the distant sound of hard bare feet disappearing up stairs and a cowering, naked girl shouting “NO! NOOO!”, making a quick motion to pound on the stairway door, then shuffling to the canister to desperately pick through wet garbage to retrieve what she could of her clothes, muttering “Fuck you, Tami, fuck you bitch . . . ”

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