[darkstalker]

She is pushed roughly against the metal locker, the woman’s lips against her own, the woman’s tongue probing and pushing back against Clare’s throat making her wince. The flavor is off, or maybe it’s just the idea of it.
She has seen Irene and Teresa kissing, their lips in passionate embrace when they thought they were alone or that Clare wasn’t looking. So it isn’t the idea of a woman with another woman she tries to tell herself.
But as the other woman’s hands trail over her buttocks, nails digging into her ass cheeks and spreading them, Clare yelps. She tries to pull away from the embrace of the woman, pushing against her chest and swallowing, trying to catch her breath. The woman still insist on having her hands on her hips, moving them about. “St-stop,” says Clare.
“Oh no...” says the woman with the long braid, leaning forward and suckling on her lower lip. “I know you like it.” The woman’s hand wanders up to her left breast, stroking it and rubbing it. “I know you’re horny and you want to fuck!”
“No...” says Clare. “Please.... Ahhh!!”
She cries out as she feels the woman twist her nipple, pinching it. Her nipple is being squeezed between the woman’s forefinger and thumb and Clare tries to push back. “No... don’t...”
“You know you want it,” says the woman, gripping her hair hard and running her tongue up and over Clare’s neck and trailing her ear. That is her last nerve. Clare pushes roughly against the woman, slamming her hands into the woman’s chest and shoving her backwards so she stumbles. “Stop!” Clare yells.
“Is something the matter here girls?” says a condescending voice from behind them. Both turn to look at the bespectacled man with a black rimmed hat fitting closely to his head, a dark smile twisting his lips. “Is there a problem we need to address girls?” he says, tilting his hat.
Both girls stares, hearts beating rapidly. The man before them is Rubel Aliford. One of the head directors of the university. But that smile he has, it always puts Clare on edge. Like he is undressing her with his eyes.
“Clare?” he says. Clare runs her hands over arms, shivering.
“No...” she says. “Nothing is wrong.”
The man chuckles. “Very well then, let’s keep it that way.” With a curt nod he walks off down the hall, his shoes echoing down the corridor. Clare watches, her heart beating a steady rhythm in her chest. She doesn’t even notice until the woman is right on her and she is getting slammed back into the locker.
“Later. In the dorms. At six. Don’t be late.”
And with that the woman storms off, her braid swinging violently from side to side. Clare leans back, sucking in mouthfuls of air. Her heart is beating wildly and she feels her chest where the woman pinched her nipple. It feels somewhat painful.
Clare swallows. The woman, Ophelia, has been harassing her and other girls on campus for several weeks now. She’d take it up with the staff, but they worry her more. No. She clenches her hand into a fist, biting back her tears. No. She’ll confront Ophelia herself and have this stop. This is too much to allow to go on....

A few hours later, Clare stands at the door to the apartment 2B. She is hesitant, sucking in deep breaths. Ophelia has been harassing her for some time now and she wants it to stop, but... is this playing into her hands?
She raises her hand in a small fist but is hesitant to knock. Lowering her fist she tries the door, finding it odd that it’s already open. Lifting a brow, she pushes the door open, seeing Ophelia, laying across the bed tossing darts at the wall. Each dart hits with a thud and she turns, smiling, aiming a dart at Clare’s face.
Without a word or warning she tosses it at Clare’s face. Clare catches the dart deftly, the point before her left eye. Tossing the item aside she stares at the woman across from her who turns, sitting on her bed, a playful grin on her face. “Ophelia...” she says darkly.
“Clare!” she says, springing out of the bed and moving towards Clare quickly, grabbing her and spinning her around suddenly. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Clare notes even before she is dropped, near unceremoniously on the bed, that Ophelia has kicked the door shut with her heel, the door booming closed. Ophelia smiles, her hand on the lock, snapping it shut. She turns, lifting the bolt in place. “I’ve been expecting you,” she says, lowering her hand slowly, trailing it across the door. “It’s so nice of you to drop by. I half expected Rubel to be at the door with you.”
She turns, her eyes shining, but something dark twisting inside them. “But here you are. All alone.” She walks slowly towards Clare, her hips swaying from side to side. “It just makes me giddy inside, to see that my bitch comes down on her lonesome.”
“I’m not here for that,” says Clare, rising from the bed.
Ophelia simply pushes her back down. “Shut up Clare.”
“Ophelia, you try anything and I swear... I’ll report you to the dean.”
Ophelia leans close, her hand trailing Clare’s neck. “To that old fart? Mm.... I doubt it.” She leans forward, her lips brushing against Clare’s. Clare can’t deny some desire hidden in her, a wanting for some... experimentation since seeing Teresa and Irene kissing, passionately. She’d seen two older women kissing, their affection there, and wondered if she could feel that towards another woman herself. Love. Passion. She hasn’t felt it towards any man yet but there are women she’s somewhat interested in. However; Ophelia isn’t one of them.
And as Ophelia leans her back onto the bed Clare tries to push herself back up. “No,” she says. “Let go. I...”
The slap across her face is sudden. She turns, her hand cupping the swelling cheek. “Wha-what was that for?!” she says.
Ophelia leans in, kissing Clare lightly on the upper lip, lingering there almost playfully. “For being a disobedient slut Clare.”
“What?!” says Clare suddenly trying to push off the bed. “I’m not... gkkkk....!”
She feels Ophelia’s hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing tightly, the woman cocking her head, smiling. “Oh Clare,” she says, a light sing song to her voice. “What do you think you’re here for? Don’t you recognize the game yet?”
The fingers squeeze tighter and Clare gasp, trying to claw at Ophelia’s arm. “I’m going to make you my slut Clare. My little bitch. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Ophelia’s mouth is suddenly on her own, pressing against it, forcing her tongue between Clare’s slightly parted lips, exploring her intimately. Clare stares wide eyed, feeling the invasion of her privacy. Part of her feeling violated but another... feeling strangely aroused.
As Ophelia draws away, she smiles. She slaps Clare roughly once more, her hair flinging into her eyes from the blow. “Well,” says Ophelia, cupping Clare’s cheek. “We should begin your training now. Shall we?”
Her hands trail down Clare’s body, running over her breasts. Clare simply stares, her eyes wide, breathing coming out lightly. Her heart thunders as she feels that woman’s hands play across her chest. “These are nice,” says Ophelia. “Not as big as mine, but they’ll do.”
“Wh-wha-...” is all Clare can say before Ophelia grips the lapels of her blouse and suddenly jerks it open, buttons flying into the air as they are torn from the material. Clare screams from surprise as much as anything else.
“Well, what do we have here,” says Ophelia, her hands trailing over Clare’s stomach and over her chest. “It’s like unwrapping a present!”
“Get off!” says Clare, her eyes going golden as she flings the woman off, slamming her into the back wall. She springs from the bed, running towards the door only to find her face slamming against it with a thud, arm pulled back, hair gripped tightly, burning at the scalp, her face pressed tightly against the door.
“Oh what a bad girl you are,” says Ophelia, running her tongue teasingly over Clare’s upper earlobe. “But that’s all right. We can fix that.”
She turns Clare around roughly, and throws her on the bed, gripping her blouse as she does so, yanking it away from Clare’s shoulders so she stumbles onto the bed with only her bra cover her upper torso.
Clare turns, her hand automatically covering her chest. “Give it back Ophelia,” she hisses.