You've let her do more than enough.

It's not that you don't trust Diabolique...scratch that, it's exactly that you don't trust her. She already tricked you into signing up for quarantine, who knows what else she's got brewing in her cauldron? You owe her a lot, but you don't owe her allowing her free rein to **** you. "Sorry, Diabolique. I'll have to earn the last 1% of your forgiveness anoOoOOoooh!"

Your refusal is cut off by your bimboi body's healing factor kicking in and the holes trying to close around your piercings only to be cut off by cold, hard steel. A feverish flush washes over you like a wanting wave as your body responds to the pain with a gush of pain killers. Your nipples and cock are achingly hard and your ass even more achingly empty. You realize too late Diabolique's diabolical prank, if you leave these in, you'll be constantly horny and begging to be milked. It occurs to you that this low grade fever explains a lot of Becca's crazier impulses, and you certainly don't want to end up as wild and wanton as her, so you try to unscrew your piercings. "Hey! They won't come off! What did you do, Diabolique?!"

"Me? I just gave you a taste of your own medicine. It's not like I chose to walk around hot and horny all the time. So now you can put up with it for awhile and I'll give you the solvent to dissolve the super glue on your pretty piercings. Heee heee heew" Diabolique laughs musically but maliciously. You wish she wasn't so goddamned cute when she laughed. It makes it harder to hate her when you have a hard on for her at the same time.

You also wish she didn't have a point. Your libido is wild too, but it's mostly manageable and it stems from your own innate desires. You chose your change, but Diabolique had hers thrust upon her. Perhaps this is a penance you should pay? You owe her a lot more than an apology, maybe even more than the freedom you sort of willingly gave up. You ask yourself, is there any limit to what I owe her if she doesn't feel justice is done.

Then it hits you. Fuck yes it does. You aren't helping her by letting her **** you. If anything, letting her bully you without any resistance is enabling a cycle of **** and will only lead to more sorrow for her and potentially other victims. You stand firm, very firm as another tremor throbs through you, and refuse resolutely, "No. You'll take these out now, or I will report this **** to the RA's. I will do a lot to make amends to you, Diabolique, but I won't let you destroy yourself to hurt me."

She stares at you for a good long time. She looks hard for any cracks in your resolve, but it's as hard as the steel in your hard, crying cock. She ponders the probability of anyone believing a version of events where this makes you the bad guy, and seems to come up with the math in your favor. Finally, she sighs and pulls out a locket from her black blouse. You wish you could say you weren't ogling her creamy cleavage so elegantly framed by the white lace, but it's like her cruelty only makes her coquettish coolness more compelling. She opens the locket, carefully hiding the pictures inside from your sight, and takes out a teeny tiny eye dropper. She sighs and applies a drop to the end of every screw on end, and says, "Huff! Fine! Be that way! They should come off now, so you don't have to be a tattle tale. I was gonna take them off anyway...eventually."

You look at her fetchingly frustrated face and smile warmly. You think you could learn to like this bully belle. You look on your bed and see a plain pair of panties, a bra, stockings, a white blouse and a shortish pleated skirt. Without removing the piercings, you start putting on your clothes, panting by the time you are dressed, but enduring the feeling of hot, hurty horniness...for now. Diabolique notices you aren't removing your piercings and asks, "What? Don't you trust me?! I said you can take them off! Why are you walking around wearing them if you know you don't have to?!"

You turn and answer, "Because you weren't wrong that I need to learn my lesson. A part of me still hasn't accepted the weight of my crime, or I wouldn't have blamed you for tricking me into quarantine when I should have volunteered for it. The lesson wouldn't mean anything if I didn't have a choice in it, and I don't want your sorrow to turn to hate. You're better than that, Diabolique." She looks at you like she wants to punch a crater in your face and fuck the hole. She looks at you like you are some kind of unfathomable alien that she cannot begin to comprehend. She looks at you like she is scared of you...like she is scared of what she is going to end up doing to you if she keeps this up...like she's scared of what it will do to her.

Then, she looks at you like she wants to kiss you, and cries out, "Dammit, why did you have to be a cute, kind, caring cunt?! Couldn't you just be evil so I can vanquish you and move on?!" Diabolique doesn't vanquish you, but she does tackle you to your bottom bunk and pin you down, kissing your buzzing beestung lips and caressing your tingling tongue with hers. Buttons fly as she rips open your blouse and then she pulls your bra down to nurse your painfully puffy nipples. You moan and writhe against her, unable to stop her as she kisses your boo boos down to your belly button, then flips up your skirt to pet your pulsing prick. You know you don't deserve her being so loving all of a sudden, but you get the feeling this isn't about you.

"I'm not a bad person! I swear I'm not! I just..." Diabolique drones on as she peels off your panties and lifts her petticoats to line her pale prick up against your hot hole. "I think I need to hate fuck you...and hate kiss you...and hate hold you...just to get it out of my system!" You know you definitely don't deserve this, but Diabolique does, even if you can't begin to fathom why she wants it. Not that she seems to be asking permission. She SLAMS into you in one throttling thrust that rattles your teeth and curls your toes. The gothic lolita lets loose, grabbing your wide hips with her dainty digits, digging deep as she pulls you on and off her pistoning prick. You hope you have a clean uniform in the closet, because yours is soon soaked with spurts and sweat.

Now you fully understand why Becca endures the constant hum of hungry horniness...the trade off is mind blowing orgasms that push your bimboi body to its lewdest limits. Every few seconds your body heals around it's piercings and seizes and spasms as the pinching pain is replaced by a paroxysm of pleasure. Your cunt clenches tighter around her cock with every sweltering surge, which in turn spurs her to pound you harder, creating a filthy feverish feedback loop.

"Fucking SHHLP stupid SLURP slut! Why MMPH are SICK you LAP so MMM fucking LICK cute?!" Diabolique questions you between kisses as she punishes you with her prick. You love feeling her hurt and hatred filling you up as your legs wrap around her lovingly. There is something different from the way you felt when you lustfully let Slade dominate ****, defile, and destroy you. You can't quite put your finger on it, then a particularly powerful climax comes crashing down on you and weighs you down with a heavy awareness...you aren't an object of hatred being weaponized to hurt others this time. You are a vessel of hope and healing being used to hold the hurt and hatred and humiliation killing Diabolique inside.

"Fuck NNNH fuck MOAN fuck OOOOH you!" Diabolique still has plenty to spare apparently, but she lets at least a gallon go as she floods you with her searing seed. She keeps pumping...forcing her spurts out of you like thick ropes of regret. You hold her tight as she screams and sobs into your neck and fucks another hot, hateful load into you. Finally, she slumps over you, spent and sobbing and you squeeze her as tight as you can.

You rock back and forth until her sniffles turn to wet whimpers and eventually calm coos. She pushes away slightly, and you release her from your grip. She looks down at you, a mix of love and loathing twisting her face making it ambivalently alarming and alluring. "I still don't forgive you...but...maybe I can try to start. If we aren't going to be mortal enemies, I guess we can try to get along in the meantime. So, call me Dee. All my friends do...not that I've made any, and not that we're friends..." Dee trails off embarrassed and you smile and nod, letting her know you understand, even if she doesn't quite yet.

"Oh shit! We're gonna be late for class! Hurry up! There's more clothes in the closet! I don't want to get blamed for you being tardy either!" Dee hops up and rushes out the door, leaving you to scramble to change into another school uniform and worry about whether Dee will ever forgive you later. You don't have time to remove the piercings, so on top of everything you will have to find your first class horny as well...