Pouring salt on the wound

She continued, her voice a blend of nervousness and a strained effort at boldness. "It's personal, right? Not something I'd just offer to anyone. It shows... it shows I'm sorry. For everything – taking your car, my attitude, the way I've treated you. It's a... a personal sacrifice, a way to make up for my wrongs. It's definitely not something I want to do with you, so it won't be easy for me..."

It didn't escape my attention that she heavily emphasized the 'you' in her last sentence. I had to admit, that stung. How bad was her opinion of me?

Her reasoning for offering a blowjob, though laced with hesitation, had a bizarre sense of innocence to it, as if she were trying to rationalize her proposal as a fair trade. It was flimsy reasoning, at best. Still, she managed to hold herself with the usual air of a popular, rich girl, but her stammering betrayed her nervousness.

I watched her closely, taking in her body language, the way she nervously played with the fabric of her skirt. It was clear I had her exactly where I wanted her. She was ****, and she was mine.

As I made eye contact with her, I noticed for the first time that my teeth had been clenched tightly. A strange, uncomfortable heat began to spread through me.

Everything I told her earlier, it was all part of a plan to make her feel guilty, to get more out of her. I was pretty much gaslighting her, putting on this whole act. I picked my words and stories just right, acting like I had been deeply hurt. It was like playing a part in a drama. And because I knew I was just acting, I had detached myself from what I was saying.

But the problem was – it wasn't just an act. Not really. She _had _made me feel awkward and pathetic. Numerous times, in fact, and some part of me hated her for that. Hated what she represented, the snobby, rich bitch who tortured everyone else because she could.

As I processed this emotion, feeling the rawness of it, I realized this was my chance to put her in her place. I was ready to show her. Show her I felt hurt. Show her I felt angry. Most importantly, show her I could be cruel.

Sneering at Veronica's offer, I quipped, "I guess if that's all you can think of to apologize, then I'll have to accept".

There was a brief flicker of relief on her face, probably because it signaled and end to the awkward discussion. Still, her face shone with a mix of disappointment and nervousness from the nature of her proposal. Some part of her probably hoped I'd turn down her offer. Sorry to disappoint.

She thought this was over. I couldn't resist smiling. It was far from over.

"I guess the rumors about you being a slut were true, huh?"

Her face twisted in shock and anger, the insult cutting deep. Veronica's usual poised demeanor crumbled for a moment, revealing a raw, **** side.

Elizabeth, witnessing this exchange, was a mixture of confusion and concern. Her eyes widened, not quite understanding the gravity of what was unfolding.

Before Elizabeth could say anything, I turned to her, "Oh, come on! We were all thinking it. Elizabeth, don't you agree that Veronica is being slutty?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth, a look of confusion crossing her face. "Well, I mean, it's kind of—"

I cut her off swiftly. "Kind of a generous offer, right? She's really trying to make amends here."

Elizabeth, now looking even more puzzled, tried to clarify. "Uh, yeah, but I think, like maybe—"

"Maybe it's exactly what's needed to even the score. I completely agree," I continued for her, again changing the direction of her sentence. "You know, since Veronica took my car and all."

Elizabeth hesitated, then nodded slowly, though it was clear she was still trying to process everything.

I turned back to Veronica. "And you, proposing this, just proves those rumors, doesn't it? But hey, it's a fair trade, right? You're just trying to make things right."

Veronica's expression flickered between anger and resignation. "I'm not a slut," she said quietly, though her voice lacked conviction. She sounded unsure. Just another small push.

"Sure, you're not," I said sarcastically. "But you're doing a great job of convincing us otherwise."

Elizabeth chimed in, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, it's a bit... unconventional," she said, clearly trying to wrap her head around the situation.

"Unconventional, but necessary," I interjected, cutting her off. "Given the circumstances, it's quite a lenient solution."

Elizabeth, looking a bit lost, nodded slowly, her eyes shifting between Veronica and me. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. It's lenient," she murmured, her agreement more a product of confusion than conviction.

I was pretty sure she didn't actually know what "lenient" meant.

I felt the uncomfortable heat begin to deepen, becoming heavier throughout my body. It was not a good feeling, almost like I was straining myself, so I made another push in the hopes of ending the conversation quickly.

"Elizabeth, this might be a bit confusing for you, right?" I said, watching her closely. Her face showed a flicker of understanding, followed by a slow, hesitant nod. "I guess it's tough to keep up when you're not that smart. So, why don't you ask any questions you have?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, unsure whether to address my insult or to follow my instructions. Like I predicted, she choose the latter, seemingly trying to get the conversation back on track. "But don't you think that this is kind of... I mean, isn't it a bit too much for just borrowing a car?"

I chuckled dismissively at her question. "That's a silly question! You're all tits and no brains, aren't you, Elizabeth?" Her face fell at the insult, her mouth opening slightly in shock, hurt flashing in her eyes. I took a moment to admire her lips, soft and pink and wet from whatever lip balm all of the cheerleaders seemed to use.

Ignoring her hurt expression, I plowed on. "Let me break it down for you. Veronica here took my car without asking. That's stealing. And now she's trying to make it right. She chose her form of apology based on who she is. Simple."

Elizabeth looked confused, trying to process the situation. "I think I get it now. So, you're saying that because she took your car, she has to... do this?"

"No, don't be silly. She doesn't have to do this, she chose to do this," I said, nodding. "And the real question here isn't about the car. It's about why Veronica chose to act like a slut. That's the real question you should be asking. But you'll need to ask her that."

After a moment's hesitation, Elizabeth turned to Veronica. "V, why are you being like this, like a slut..." There was a slow pause as she emphasized the last word, as if she was tasting the idea for the first time. I'm sure she had heard the rumors about her best friend, but I could tell she had never before considering whether they were true.

I could feel Veronica cringe a little as Elizabeth continued, "I mean, is this really how you want to make things right?"

Throughout this exchange, Veronica stayed silent, not answering the question. her expression growing sadder and more pained with each passing moment. It was clear she was hurt by Elizabeth's words, her best friend unwittingly revealing that she might believe the rumors.

I realized that I would have to take back control of the situation before Veronica decided that she did not, in fact, want to offer me one, heavenly blowjob. Maybe, if I could get Elizabeth to endorse it?

"Elizabeth, do you think Veronica is making a good choice here? Trying to fix her mistake?" I prodded further, watching as Elizabeth struggled with the question.

"Well, I guess if it's to make up for stealing the car..." Elizabeth's voice trailed off, her uncertainty evident.

"And you agree that it's a fair way to settle this?" I pressed on, leading the conversation.

"I... suppose so. If that's what Veronica thinks is best..." Elizabeth replied, her tone still hesitant.

Veronica's face was a mix of emotions – hurt, confusion, and a sense of defeat. It was clear that the conversation was taking a toll on her, her usual fiery spirit dampened by the situation she found herself in.

"So, Veronica, do you have an answer for Elizabeth's question?" I prodded, watching her closely.

Veronica, still silent up to this point, took a moment to collect her thoughts. Her usual confident demeanor was replaced with a pensive and **** air. She looked almost ethereal in her contemplative state, her beauty underscored by a sense of defeat.

"Yes," she muttered after a pause, her voice barely audible.

I wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily. "Yes, what?" I pressed, needing to hear her say it.

She looked up, her eyes meeting mine. There was a defeated look in her gaze, but also a tiny hint of something else, some twisted form of pride. It was hard to place where it came from - perhaps it was her way of owning the situation, of trying to find some semblance of control in a scenario where she had none.

"Yes, I'm being a ... slut," she finally said, her voice shaky but clear. "Yes, it's what I have to do." She looked at me timidly as I raised an eyebrow to indicate my displeasure for her word choice. "No, sorry, it's what I want to do, to make things right."

The admission hung heavy in the air, a stark confession that seemed to weigh on her. Her body language spoke volumes; she was shaken, but the way she held herself, the slight lift of her chin, suggested she was trying to embrace her decision, no matter how difficult it was for her.

In that moment, Veronica was a complex mixture of vulnerability and a strange, defiant courage. It was a side of her I had never seen before, and it was both unsettling and strangely compelling.

I chuckled softly, "There you go. Even Veronica admits she's being a slut. Can't argue with that, can we, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth, still looking a bit dazed, just nodded along, accepting my words without question. It was almost too easy, manipulating their confusion and guilt to my advantage.

They both sat there, nodding, a mixture of acceptance and defeat on their faces. I had managed to twist the situation entirely in my favor, playing on their emotions and insecurities. The power I held in this moment was palpable, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph.