Handing out Sarah flyers

Isabel’s breath caught in her throat as Sarah’s fingers traced the edge of her phone, the screen still displaying Isabel’s naked body in sharp, unforgiving clarity. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across Sarah’s smirk.

"Emma’s little campaign speeches are cute," Sarah murmured, tilting her head. "But they won’t mean much when everyone sees you handing out my flyers." She tapped the screen, zooming in on one particularly compromising shot. "Naked except for my campaign sash, maybe?"

Isabel’s stomach twisted as Sarah’s fingers brushed her bare shoulder, the warmth of her touch sickeningly intimate against Isabel’s chilled skin. The campaign sash—emblazoned with Sarah’s name in bold letters—slid over Isabel’s collarbone as Sarah adjusted it with deliberate slowness, her nails scraping lightly.

"You’ll stand by the lockers before first bell," Sarah whispered, her breath hot against Isabel’s ear. "Hand out my flyers. Smile." She tapped her phone screen, enlarging the photo until Isabel’s humiliation filled the display. "And if anyone asks why you're doing it, tell them it's because you wanted to."

Isabel’s lips trembled as Sarah’s fingers tightened on her bare hip, pressing the campaign sash against her skin like a brand. The cold air from the bathroom vents raised goosebumps along her thighs as Sarah stepped back, admiring her handiwork with a predator’s grin.

Sarah’s smirk deepened as she leaned in, her voice a silken threat. "One more rule," she murmured, tracing the edge of the sash where it barely covered Isabel’s chest. "When you hand out my flyers, if someone takes one… they get to touch you. Right here." Her fingertip pressed just above Isabel’s nipple, the pressure deliberate, possessive.

Isabel’s breath hitched as Sarah’s fingertip lingered, the threat burning hotter than the shame crawling up her throat. The sash’s cheap fabric scratched against her bare skin as Sarah adjusted it one last time, letting it ride dangerously high on her hip.

"Go on," Sarah murmured, stepping back to admire her work. She held out a stack of glossy flyers, her manicured nails tapping against the top one. "First bell’s in four minutes. Better hurry."